I recently overheard someone describe teaching English in Thailand as a “paid holiday.” They said it with a smirk, like we spend our days sipping coconuts under palm trees while casually correcting the odd verb tense. To that person, I would like to cordially invite you to my Friday afternoon Prathom 6 (Primary 6) class. It begins at 2:10 p.m., a time when the classroom temperature rivals that of a low oven, and ends at 3 p.m., which is also, coincidentally, when everyone’s will to live begins to wobble.

There are 38 students. Two are asleep. Three are actively arguing. One is trying to show me a TikTok dance while another is building something out of erasers. I am trying - and failing - to explain the difference between “much” and “many” using a whiteboard that’s seen better decades and a marker that ran out of ink halfway through last term. When the bell rings, it’s less a dismissal and more a jail break. I slump into my chair, covered in sweat, possibly glue, and reevaluating my life choices.

Then I head to the office, where I am asked if I might be available tomorrow for a “fun English camp” at 7 a.m., unpaid, of course, “just for the students.” So yes, technically, I’m in paradise. But if this is a holiday, it’s the kind where you miss your flight and lose your luggage.

Trevor