When I first arrived in Thailand to teach, I braced myself for all the classroom challenges I could think of. What I didn’t expect was how much of my energy would be spent navigating the politics outside the classroom.

The students? They're the highlight of my job. Funny, polite (most of the time), and full of energy. But once the classroom door closes behind me, I sometimes dread walking back into the staffroom. There are the informal hierarchies no one tells you about: who gets listened to, who gets sidelined, and how smiling silence can sometimes mean disapproval. I’ve been excluded from meetings I later found out I was supposed to attend. I’ve seen Thai teachers who are warm and friendly in private turn cold in front of superiors, especially when foreign staff are around. I’ve had ideas ignored until someone else, more senior or better connected, suggested the same thing a week later.

There’s also an unspoken rule that foreign teachers should “know their place.” In some schools, that’s code for: smile, teach, and don’t ask questions. That can feel infantilizing, especially for experienced educators who genuinely want to contribute. I’ve seen good teachers lose motivation, not because of students or pay, but because they’re kept at arm’s length by the people they’re supposed to be working alongside. Of course, not every school is like this. I’ve met supportive Thai staff, fair bosses, and colleagues who went out of their way to make foreign teachers feel included. But when the staffroom atmosphere turns cliquey or passive-aggressive, it chips away at the enjoyment of a job that, at its core, should be about students and learning and not office politics.

I still love teaching in Thailand. But if we want to retain good teachers, schools need to look beyond just contracts and curriculum, and start building genuine, respectful teamwork across the cultural divide.

Donna