Mol-lee, Tomorrow...You Teach...Okay?

I was sitting at my desk, diligently working away on the next week’s lesson plans when Em, my assistant Thai teacher, slid open the shaded door to the office and peeked inside, “Mol-lee.” I saw her lips form my name as she stepped inside. Removing my earphones, I gave her a smile, “Yes?”
“Mol-lee, you go talk. Principal Lin.” She said as she came to my desk fanning herself with a piece of paper.
“What? Principal Lin? She wants me? Why?” I asked in disbelief, shuffling the papers on my desk and trying to put them in logical order so that I could continue with them without losing my spot.
“Yeeees, Mol-lee. Go talk. Ah, Principal Lin need to speak wit you.” She cooed slouched with her hip on my desk.
“Oooooh,” I toyed with my English co-workers as I pushed myself away from my desk. Their bodies all turned towards me and eyes watched as I followed Em to the door. With my mind racing with lesson plans, I followed her outside as my coworkers chuckled at me through the sliding glass door: math activities, do we continue with phonetic /n/ or should I break it up and add in some verb enforcement? I was going to continue with the concept of more, but is it too fast? What could Principal Lin want? Did I do something wrong?
Shuffling along the stone walkway towards the main office, Em began to try to explain, “Tomorrow you no teach student. Teach other school. Far away," she said with a wave of the hand.
“Far away? What? I don’t teach students tomorrow? No teaching?” I little bubble of joy lifted inside me and erupted as a smirk on my lips as I entertained the thought of a day off.
“Yeeees, Yeeeees, you teach. But not at school, not in classroom. We go….uh,” she thought aloud in Thai as we ascended the stairs and came to the office door, “I doh-no. Principal Lin.” She smiled to me as my face squinted in confusion and we walked through the door.

“Ah, Mol-lee,” Principal Lin called from her desk. Her large body filled the width of the desk and her little chubby arms sat on top like two stubby sausages stuffed into a bright, coral, linen blazer. “Sit, parease.” She instructed with a flop of her arm to a small metal chair in front of her desk.
“Thank you.” I answered still unsure of what exactly was going on and a little hesitant. I looked back at Em for encouragement and she smiled and nodded to me.
“Mol-lee, tomorrow, ah…KG2 (my classroom Kindergarten 2) go to Siria Centah. You know Siria Centah?” she asked, her white powdered face looking at me expectantly.
“No, I’m sorry I don’t. Where?” I asked leaning in towards her, hoping that if I get closer, hear better, that I could understand better.
“Uh, you, Em, Oy (my other Thai assistant) Me, Dr. and KG2 all go, go, go,” her hands waved around the air in front of her like two sparring birds flapping wildly about. By this time all I understood was that myself, my two Thai teachers, The Principal, and the Doctor, being the Head of the Ministry of Education (gasp) were all going somewhere tomorrow. But where?
“Okay, we all go…”
She interrupted, “I have two car to, uh,” she moved her clutched hands side to side while swaying her body.
“Driving?” I asked. I have always been darn good at charades.
“Mmmm, yeees. We go to The Centah. You know? Uh, Aus-tri-a Centah. Ah, li-berry. Books, you know? Li-berry? Yes. You go with children and look, look, look, around,” Her head moving about to imaginary books and shelves.
“Okay. So tomorrow Me, Em, Oy KG2 go and look in a center? Like a field trip. We go and just look around?” I asked in disbelief but with a small hope. The Ministry of Education’s Grandchildren are my students; maybe this was a special perk? “I don’t teach tomorrow? We go and look?”
“No. Tomorrow you teach. You teach KG2.” She smiled triumphantly.
Wait a cotton-picking minute- what? “So I teach about the Austria Center? I don’t know Austria Center? What is it? What do I teach?” My breathing became a little unsteady, but as I pictured it in my mind I calmed. What could it be? A field trip, some plaques on the wall in English I read to the children, they get a little history, we learn some Austrian stuff and badda-bing, everyone’s happy…right?
“Mol-lee, you go and teach, I doh-no maybe some picture, maybe…story, maybe…I doh-no. You teach, teachteach, and people watching,”
“People are watching? Who? Watching me teach?” I asked in disbelief. Oh, this was getting good.
“Yeeees,” she smiled, her thick hands clasped in front of her bosom which rested on the top of her desk. “Some people…you know…some children no have mother or father, very poor…”
“Orphans?”
“Yes, okay. They give money to the children no mother, and make li-berry. Grand opening. You, me, Oy, Em go and open. First time.” -Holy shitballs…what?- “Okay, Mol-lee. You teach for me.” She asked with her sweetest smile plastered on in red-hot lipstick.
“Okay, we go to Austria Center. I teach, maybe draw a picture of what we see, and people watch (?) and then we come back to school…when?” I struggled to understand exactly what the heck I was in for.
“We drive back to school 12 o’clock. Okay?”
“A field trip? We are going on a field trip. Come back at 12 0’clock?” I half asked half answered.
“Okay, I think okay. Thank you Mol-lee. You come to school tomorrow morning, what time?” She asked.
“I come here at 8 o’clock.”
“I think tomorrow you come in 7:45. Okay. Thank you Mol-lee.”
“Okay.” I shrugged as I got up and looked at Em. Her face would tell me what was really going on.

As we descended the stairs I turned to Em, “What are we doing?”
“We go to Austria Center and you teach,” her hands straightened horizontally in front of her, “people come watch ‘oh, cute, cute the children’ and you teachteachteach.”
“What do I teach? I don’t know Austria Center?”
“No, Mol-lee, you teach, same same.”
“I teach what I would teach tomorrow? We take workbooks?”
“No, I think maybe game, maybe sing-song, story…”
“Wait, Em, people are going to be watching me teach, what? On a stage?”
“Yeeees. Many people come and watch, looking around and watching teach.”
Oh, God. I finally got it. I understood. How could I be so stupid? It isn’t a field trip, it’s a publicity thing. I have to cart my kids into a building and try to teach them while rich Farang and god-knows-who circle us like cute-thirsty vultures going in for the cheek pinch. Oh, no. And three hours? Three hours of it? How am I going to teach three hours with people cruising around us? What the hell am I going to teach? Think Molly, think.

I slid back the door to the English office and my co-workers all turned my way. Their eyes widened as I stood, shocked in the doorway, “Oh, no Molly. What does she want you to do?”