Many volunteers join TASSEL saying that they were emotionally moved by something that they heard about TASSEL; that they desperately wanted to help because the stories they heard broke their hearts so much. I admire that attitude tremendously and resonate with that much more now. But when I first joined, that wasn’t really the truth for me. I frankly first joined TASSEL without any convincing reason in particular. Even when I first heard about the stories of people suffering in the Cambodian villages, I found it difficult to feel a genuine emotional connection beyond superficial sympathy. The rural Cambodians were people thousands of miles away - people that I had never met, people I had no reason to deeply care for.

 

It was once I started to see the students, initially via online VSee (phonics) lessons, that the emotional connection started to build. Even from day one, the energy of the students was infectious. To start with, the emotional connection came simply from the fact that I had a ton of fun teaching the students. These students aren’t your regular set of students - not one student takes any single class for granted. They are so enthusiastic and so willing to learn, and this is something you can tell just by observing their body language. I took this excitement that they were showing in class at face value, and thought their lives were filled with the same joy and smiles that their behavior in class showed.

 

As time passed, though, I observed that the beaming faces that they showed in class were a bit of a facade. Of course, the students very much enjoyed the lessons, and were always so excited to learn. However, the smiles that they showed in class were not reflective of their overall physical, mental, or emotional state. Slowly, the cracks started to appear. A student once fainted in the middle of class - it turns out that they had not, and could not, eat breakfast that morning. Some students stopped coming to class because they needed to work to support their families. People got sick. People died. It’s one thing to hear about somebody suffering, but it is a totally different proposition when somebody seems happy on the surface, and yet you find out they most certainly are not. All this only hit me harder when I went to visit Cambodia myself, and saw the suffering with my own eyes. I found this contrast between what appeared on the surface, and the deeper reality that I slowly came to know of, quite heartbreaking. Lastingly heartbreaking.

 

Underneath the layer of suffering though, turned out to be a layer of hope. When one understands the way our TASSEL community - despite their struggles - lead their lives, suddenly we see the best of what humanity has to offer. When we see our student Sophea*, who has led the most difficult life one could imagine, now working day and night to learn English well enough to fulfill his dream of becoming a TASSEL teacher. When we hear about the local teachers going on treacherous journeys through rivers and forests simply to check on the well-being of our students living in extremely remote areas. I remember speaking to Teacher Vanna specifically about that point, and asked him why he put himself at such risk. He simply responded - “if we don’t help, who will?”

 

I like to think of TASSEL as a garden. Clearly, it is people like the local Khmer teachers, or our founder Joji, who are planting most of the flowers in this metaphorical garden. But each of us, including you and I, have a flower of our own to take care of too. In order to allow the garden to flourish, we must water our own flowers. Bit by bit, with consistency. That is how our flowers stay alive.

 

If there is anything I have learned from TASSEL, and if there is anything I would like you, the reader, to take away from this, it is that. Neither I nor anyone reading this (most probably) are the saviours for the needy - we are not doing the heavylifting. However, each of us has a crucial role in ensuring that our flower stays bright and alive, and we must contribute consistently to do so. Flowers do not bloom by throwing a bucket load of water one day, and then forgetting about it afterwards. It is the consistency that matters most. Let us work together, day by day, week by week, and month by month, to take care of our own flowers, and to collectively build the most prosperous and beautiful garden possible. Then, maybe, the students’ smiles won’t need be facades anymore.