Storms in the Land of the Thunder Dragon

The first storm! It's amazing. I love it. I love rain. I love weather. I love it when all the dust gets slapped back down into the earth and told in no uncertain terms that nostrils are not good places to be. Especially mine. It gives me time alone that I cherish too. There is much to do. Term has started and the students have been here a few days. My literary club has attracted 42 students. In the service of banter I asked for 2 and compromised my way up to 5. That was a joke, but 42 is going to be interesting to manage. How many students does it take to change a lightbulb? Or organise a short story competition? Lightening! Boom!!! Right outside my window. It's getting exciting.

As Head of Science I decided I needed to pay a visit to a nearby school to tap up the science teachers for schemes of work and yearly action plans. A chance encounter with a physicist when I was opening a bank account with my principle facilitated this audacious move. And it meant I got to borrow the warden's car! Genius. The freedom of the roads (including the 11km suspension smasher) was mine. I want a car. My mate Greg included it in his list of 3 freedoms he had to arrange on return to UK – phone, broadband, car. Ford was on to something, and loathe them as we might, they don't half set you free, especially in a place like this. So off I went on my first solo adventure of any significance (walk to river aside).

They use a 'spiral curriculum' over here. The material builds over the years with frequent revisits along the way. It's good, but it means that if you haven't taught before, it's impossible to figure out what depth you teach the material to in the examination year without going through all the previous years' textbooks. And if you taught everything in the textbook or on the syllabus for this year, you wouldn't finish. You wouldn't come close. The Bhutanese curriculum is much harder than the UK curriculum year-on-year. GCSE equivalent here includes a lot of A-Level stuff and there's generally more material to cover. They touch on relativistic effects on mass in GCSE! And there's more practical science relevant to this society too – machines and mechanical advantages etc.

Rain is screaming down now, battering my roof. Lightening frequent. Checked for leaks. I have some. Right through the front door is a good one! My two rivers might meet and make a lake. Luckily the towel I bought here has no absorbent qualities whatsoever so I can use it to block up the door.

The start of the year is very different here. Most of the work we would have completed before students arrive is done when they arrive. So work is being done in the staffroom and the children are pootling about the place tidying rooms and generally entertaining themselves. This sounds outrageous, but it doesn't lead to the mischief and mass revolution that it would lead to back home. I get a courteous bow whenever I walk by. Sometimes the girls shuffle away from me nervously. Every child stands up if they were previously seated. In the first assembly the school stood for an hour. On their feet! Without calling their human rights lawyers. Or whining. I did a little, on the inside.

Back home education is taken for granted, especially by a large percentage of students who see it more as a sentence than an opportunity. Perhaps that's an unfair statement given the current state of the economy and the degradation of higher education in the misguided pursuit of 'University for All'. Education is very much a privilege here. Student's were turned away. The government aims for total inclusion, but it's difficult. The student's here all come from the villages I described, and this place must be surreal in the first instance. What it offers is nothing short of miraculous. The first tranche of politicians all seemed to benefit from exchange programs, gaining their education in places like Oxford, Harvard and the Canadian universities. The selection process was rigorous and ruthless. Make the cut and you're destined for wealth and greatness, miss it and.. I don't know. Nothing changes. But they come back. Economists who could be running banks run Ministries or join the Civil Service. They appreciate their gain and respect their roots. I suppose not all of them do, but it's more common than you'd think.

The cut isn't quite so brutal nowadays, but at the end of the year, those that achieve high enough marks will get college places sponsored by the government. Those that don't might pay for themselves. The rest will 'loiter'. It's a word I've heard several times. It suggest being left behind, but with an implication of fault. 'To leave oneself behind'. But they'll still be ahead because they've had something that their parent's perhaps only dreamt of – an opportunity to develop their minds and become critical in their thinking, to become independent and empowered, which is after all the fundamental aim of education.

The electricity went out ten minutes ago and now my head torch is lighting the way. It's getting cold. The rain is easing off but the sky is all crackles and booms. The Land of the Thunder Dragon is in full roar.