I wanted to test myself on my travels – to push my limits and face some fears. I don’t like heights and I jumped off the 30 foot deck of a boat in the Halong Bay of Vietnam. I ate bugs that made my stomach churn in Bangkok. I held a snake that made my skin crawl in the Mekong Delta. I learned to meet strangers, attempt new languages, and to be alone in new cities.
Public speaking is not a fear I planned to face while backpacking through Southeast Asia. But the first time I stood in front of a class of twenty Thai children, all of them anxiously awaiting this white girl to teach them some English, my stomach shot to my throat and the summer sweat that already speckled my hairline turned cold and clammy.
I was relieved when I didn’t have to utter the first word. One of the older looking children, thirteenish and clearly a leader in the classroom, suddenly stood and all nineteen pupils followed, their miniature wooden chairs sliding noisily across the sandy concrete.
“Good afternoon, teacher!” they exclaimed in unison.
“Good afternoon, class” I wearily responded, suddenly feeling the presence of an invisible script.
“How are you today?” they asked with charming self-satisfaction.
