The Story Of Alann's Dream
I still remember the look on her face. On the last night of our Asian excursion, we were sitting at the dinner table in a Bangkok restaurant with our expert guide, Alann. For the last three days, she'd led our small group through the majestic ruins of Angkor Wat and the exotic culture of Cambodia's Siem Reap province. Now, prompted by our curious questions, she was sharing the story of her life and how she'd bucked tradition to become a female tour guide in a country where women are discouraged from advancing themselves beyond anything more than a traditional housewife. Alann's face held an odd mixture of emotions. I saw the excitement for her dreams of one day building a school in her village and travelling to Madrid in order to practice speaking Spanish. There was also a deep sadness which, as much as she tried to conceal it, poked out from under her excitement. Soon, I would understand why.
Earlier that day, during the drive from Siem Reap to Bangkok, Alann had asked our bus driver to stop along the side of the highway. She led us to her village, Tourlveang, where she'd grown up and where her family still lives. In the stifling heat and humidity, we had the privilege of being introduced to many of the villagers and to her father and grandmother. We also met her prized pigs. Before departing, she showed us a piece of land being flattened by a bulldozer.
"For my school," she explained. "My dream is to build a school for the young people in my village and the villages nearby. There they will learn to speak English for free so they can get good paying jobs." Alann went on to explain that English language skills are taught in secondary school (junior high school) and high school, but children coming from rural villages like hers are often at a disadvantage. Lacking extra money to pay for private English lessons while they are young, they arrive at secondary school and find themselves far behind their urban living peers who have been able to afford the benefit of private lessons. Most quit their language studies and consequently, are shut out of the good job opportunities that require knowing how to speak English.
"What I'm doing is trying to shape them with the market need," continued Alann. "Siem Reap is a great touristic province and people need to be able to speak a foreign language in order to get a job that can pay for their own university and catch what they wish to do."
Back at the dinner table in our restaurant, I asked her how she learned to speak English.
"When I was young, I would study sometimes with the monk at the temple in the district. When I went to junior high school and then high school, I used all of my meal budget to put into extra language classes. I was very lucky to get a scholarship to go to university, but my English couldn't be used properly yet, so I did an intensive study for many hours a day at the cheap language school to get some certificates. I used all my breakfast budget to pay for the classes. Every morning, I ate leftover food from the landlord who I lived with. Most days it was just rice and soy sauce. When I got my certificates, I applied for a job—first as a receptionist then as a tour guide so I could practice more and more."
Alann recognizes the extra effort she's made and that she was fortunate to go to university. She doesn't want it to be this difficult for others. "Most other students from the countryside can't do this because they think they need to eat and also they need flavour. They can't swallow old rice every morning just with soy sauce. So many of them in the next generation graduate with weak English and can only find low paying jobs."
Lying in bed that night, listening to the clamour out on the street, I thought about the sacrifices Alann had made to improve her prospects. I thought about the people we'd met in her village and her dream for a proper school that would teach English to a new generation.
Before saying goodbye at the restaurant, Alann had spoken to us about how difficult it was for her as a woman in Cambodia, trying to improve herself and realize her dream. Doing what she knew was right brought with it isolation and often scorn from many traditional Cambodians who found her ways much too progressive. Quickly, I understood the sadness she tried to conceal and sensed the depth of her loneliness. This was the price of progress. Alann is a pioneer, a Cambodian woman breaking free from out-dated traditions, who has worked hard and sacrificed much to improve her lot in life. Now she wants to give others the same opportunities. However, not everyone approves of her ambition and their disapproval can make life feel like a constant uphill battle.
I had to find a way to help her.
Earlier that day, during the drive from Siem Reap to Bangkok, Alann had asked our bus driver to stop along the side of the highway. She led us to her village, Tourlveang, where she'd grown up and where her family still lives. In the stifling heat and humidity, we had the privilege of being introduced to many of the villagers and to her father and grandmother. We also met her prized pigs. Before departing, she showed us a piece of land being flattened by a bulldozer.
"For my school," she explained. "My dream is to build a school for the young people in my village and the villages nearby. There they will learn to speak English for free so they can get good paying jobs." Alann went on to explain that English language skills are taught in secondary school (junior high school) and high school, but children coming from rural villages like hers are often at a disadvantage. Lacking extra money to pay for private English lessons while they are young, they arrive at secondary school and find themselves far behind their urban living peers who have been able to afford the benefit of private lessons. Most quit their language studies and consequently, are shut out of the good job opportunities that require knowing how to speak English.
"What I'm doing is trying to shape them with the market need," continued Alann. "Siem Reap is a great touristic province and people need to be able to speak a foreign language in order to get a job that can pay for their own university and catch what they wish to do."
Back at the dinner table in our restaurant, I asked her how she learned to speak English.
"When I was young, I would study sometimes with the monk at the temple in the district. When I went to junior high school and then high school, I used all of my meal budget to put into extra language classes. I was very lucky to get a scholarship to go to university, but my English couldn't be used properly yet, so I did an intensive study for many hours a day at the cheap language school to get some certificates. I used all my breakfast budget to pay for the classes. Every morning, I ate leftover food from the landlord who I lived with. Most days it was just rice and soy sauce. When I got my certificates, I applied for a job—first as a receptionist then as a tour guide so I could practice more and more."
Alann recognizes the extra effort she's made and that she was fortunate to go to university. She doesn't want it to be this difficult for others. "Most other students from the countryside can't do this because they think they need to eat and also they need flavour. They can't swallow old rice every morning just with soy sauce. So many of them in the next generation graduate with weak English and can only find low paying jobs."
Lying in bed that night, listening to the clamour out on the street, I thought about the sacrifices Alann had made to improve her prospects. I thought about the people we'd met in her village and her dream for a proper school that would teach English to a new generation.
Before saying goodbye at the restaurant, Alann had spoken to us about how difficult it was for her as a woman in Cambodia, trying to improve herself and realize her dream. Doing what she knew was right brought with it isolation and often scorn from many traditional Cambodians who found her ways much too progressive. Quickly, I understood the sadness she tried to conceal and sensed the depth of her loneliness. This was the price of progress. Alann is a pioneer, a Cambodian woman breaking free from out-dated traditions, who has worked hard and sacrificed much to improve her lot in life. Now she wants to give others the same opportunities. However, not everyone approves of her ambition and their disapproval can make life feel like a constant uphill battle.
I had to find a way to help her.
I want to be an English teacher. I want the next generation to know this language so they can achieve their goals and each one individually, reach the dream that comes from the bottom of their heart. — Thor Chamrong, Male, Grade 7, Tourlveang, Cambodia
Cambodia is a country still recovering from the devastation wrought by the Vietnam War and the brutal Khmer Rouge regime. Poverty is rampant and work options for rural families are limited to farming or working in garment factories. A growing area is the tourism industry. If young people could find good work as guides or working in hotels, they could support themselves to keep their education going. Education is what will rebuild a country, giving the people of Cambodia the hope and skills to build a new future.
Back home in Canada, I kept in touch with Alann and asked how I could help her with her dream. She told me that although she didn't have the funds to build her dream school, she was undeterred and going to get started with small steps. Using her own money and some donations, she'd had desks constructed and a white board installed in the patio area of her family home to create a temporary classroom. She hired a teacher, agreeing to pay $2.00 U.S. a day. On the first day of classes, 106 students turned up, hoping to participate. By the end of the week, it was up to 200. With heavy hearts, Alann and the teacher were forced to turn those from neighbouring villages away, promising to find a solution in the future that will accommodate everyone. For now, their temporary classroom is simply too small.
I like the classes because we have a clean patio and a polite teacher. She explains things well and understands the students' needs. — Thor Chamrong
The teacher comes each day to instruct 63 students in English for two hours —32 students in the first hour and 31 students during the second hour. So keen to learn are the students that they begin to arrive at the temporary classroom 30 minutes beforehand to ensure a good spot. The classes are crowded and the learning environment is less than ideal. But, it's a start. In October and November, the classroom, being under the flood line, will be unusable due to heavy rainfall and classes will cease. Her dream of building a proper schoolhouse on her land above the flood line remains her ultimate goal.
Your help is greatly needed to make Alann's dream become a reality. $20,000 U.S. is the estimate for a new school building and ALL contributions will go directly towards the construction of a new school on her prepared land. A new school will create an ideal learning environment, allowing for more classes to be offered and more students to attend. A new school will be built above the flood line so classes can continue during the rainy season and during harvest season. A new school will have a room and bed for a permanent teacher.
I ask everyone to please find it in your heart to support this worthy cause and make a donation.
Keir Overton, Alann's Dream Coordinator, Dundas, Canada.