For only the second time in Bhutan I had to accompany a boy
upstairs to our VP’s office since he
directly disobeyed me and back bit me as
they say. Namchag Wangdi has caused problems in other classes too and is a
constant disruption leading a group of unruly boys also in the class. Classroom
management has always been a challenge for me and although I’m pretty
permissive I also have limits especially when incessant chattering interrupts
my teaching. During a group activity I allow for discussion but when I’m giving
direct instruction and students are talking it naturally disturbs me. In this
instance I asked the boy to go outside and wait for me and he superciliously
sauntered out of the room while smiling and remarking god knows what in
Sharchop. So I indeed marched him upstairs since he has acted inappropriately
all year. Such occurrences always depress me since I loathe dragging administration
into my own disciplinary actions mainly for fear that the boy will get a
thrashing which thankfully he didn’t. So now it’s four o’clock and the bell for
dismissal rings out over the schoolyard. A few days later a boy named Dawa sexually
harassed a girl named Tenzin who came to me crying demanding to see the VP.
Apparently the rambunctious rapscallion told some filthy words to Tenzin but I
knew the trip up stairs to the admin would turn out badly for Dawa. Sure enough
VP started for his stick and I left the room muttering a weak objection to the
effect of, “You know how I feel about beating.” I could hear some solid whacks
as I drew the curtain leaving the office. Officially beating is banned in the
kingdom but most teachers still covertly whack with sticks or pull earlobes
etc.
On Tuesday we celebrated a triple gem of a holiday
commemorating the beloved Fourth King’s coronation, Social Forestry Day, and
the Death Anniversary of Buddha. In honor of the occasion school was cancelled
and I took two boys up to Darchin. One of them the reader knows as Nima
Gyeltson and the other was Gyempo a strapping lad who is rather reticent with
dewy eyes and bulging calves who basically glided up the hillside with a Sherpa
stride. We went a different way (still finding new paths) through thick forest reminiscent
of a jungle with giant bells of wild honeysuckle cascading from the mossy green
canopy. The trail wound through a ravine with vegetation dripping over the vertical
walls of the ravine so it seemed we were climbing vines like Tarzan. Mist draped
the dripping green ridge creating a most otherworldly habitat with clacking
frogs and whirring cicadas keeping our time. Up at the small temple in the
rolling green pastures a puja was happening with the sickly acetic lama back in
station. In fact he lay wrapped in a gray cloak by the hearth while Kezang the
attractive villager I’d met previously from Chakademi served us Suja or butter
tea on the other side of the room from the convalescing lama. On the way down
the hillsides the boys ran ahead singing popular Bhutanese pop songs as they
descended through blue pine and past the last faded rhodedron flower a dying
ruby in a ray of light.
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