I know I should write an actual account of what has actually been happening over here in Thailand for the last however many months. But today I am actually being inspired to write about something else.
For those who have talked to me a lot whilst being a teacher in Thailand, you have most likely heard me talk about my High School Music teacher, Mrs. Funk.
This is because Mrs. Funk was probably the teacher I had the worst relationship with throughout my whole life.
I am a pretty great student. I have always been. I don’t make trouble. I do my work. I learn easily. I think that if you asked my teachers growing up how I was in class they would tend to agree that I was very, very well behaved and smart. (this isn’t me boasting about myself, this is to set up how ridiculous the situation was with Mrs. Funk)
The one thing I will say is that I tend to be very enthusiastic. Still am. Always. And especially about something I love–music–I tend to be over enthusiastic. But the problem with that was that somehow or another this caused Mrs. Funk to pick me out as the “problem student” right off the bat.
So then I just sort of became the problem student.
Because that was what she expected of me! All of my actions just became that way because of the way she was choosing to view me.
I remember her calling me back after some choir class and talking about “needing my support” and I muttered something sassy under my breath like “maybe if you picked better songs you’d have my support” and she just snaps “that is what I mean right there!”
I was troublesome.
Not in life. Not for real. But for her, yes, I was troublesome.
And I have been reflecting back on those moments now being a young and totally clueless teacher in a foreign country, and just how now I’m on the receiving end of that. Which at first I found kind of humbling…but the story continues…
Because this semester there were two returning older teachers who came back into the Thepnaree school environment that I had grown accustomed to.
And calling back to the days of Mrs. Funk–they find me (and my roommate, too) troublesome.
Which is a hard thing to have thought about me, because I would actually say that I try very actively to be as least troublesome as possible.
Which is why then I decided–fuck it. Why don’t I just own troublesome.
I’m reading a book about the history of the human race and I can guarantee that each and every name mentioned in that book was called “troublesome” by someone that didn’t understand them. Shit, Galileo was troublesome. Charlemagne was troublesome. Elizabeth I was troublesome. I mean, lets calm down Brenna because lord knows I’m not trying to call myself the next Galileo.
But the point is this: maybe I am some spoiled millennial who believes more in having fun than in strict discipline. Maybe I am some free spirit who doesn’t like to be told that I’m wrong. Maybe I am a strong-willed motherfucker who is not going to change my behavior just because one or two people don’t agree with it.
Maybe I am troublesome.
And let the judgment of others rain down on me because of it. But the judgements not going to come from me. Not anymore.
And if you were wondering how the story of the infamous Mrs. Funk has ended (yes there is a very satisfying ending). She moved on from Holy Family and started teaching music somewhere else. And she has currently been found guilty of 4 counts of sexual assault in the State of Minnesota for having an affair with one of the students.
So the moral of the story is this: maybe Teacher Boo knows best.