Trying to get to Laos and Myanmar: one battle after another

The morning of Monday 2/23/26, I was supposed to fly from Washington DC to Asia for international school visits in Vientiane, Laos and Yangon, Myanmar [formerly Burma]. 

I was supposed to...

• arrive in Laos the evening of 2/24/26 and Myanmar the evening of 3/1/26.
• have two connections en route to Laos: Dubai and Bangkok.
• speak for six days between the two schools.
• fly home the way I came.

None of that happened.

Landmark Mekong Riverside Hotel, Vientiane, Laos

Here’s a quick list of how it unraveled:

Problem 1: SNOWSTORM

Problem 2: FLIGHT CANCELED 

Problem 3: NO BOARDING PASS

Problem 4: NOT ENOUGH PASSPORT PAGES

Problem 5: NO CASH

Problem 6: EMAILS NOT DELIVERING

Problem 7: SAME-DAY FLIGHT

Problem 8: PASSPORT NUMBERS DON’T MATCH

Problem 9: MYANMAR EMBASSY CLOSED

Problem 10: LANDING AFTER MIDNIGHT

Problem 11: WAR GROUNDED MIDDLE EAST FLIGHTS

Problem 12: COULD NOT GET VERIFICATION CODE

Explanations:

Problem 1: SNOWSTORM

A sizable storm was predicted for DC for 2/22/26, the night before my trip commenced. Rather than risk not being able to get to the airport—missing my first flight would have a disastrous ripple effect—I got a hotel room near it. That proved unnecessary because my area did not end up receiving enough snow to disrupt road travel the next morning.

Problem 2: FLIGHT CANCELED 

I missed my first flight anyway.

First, my 10:30 am Emirates departure was delayed…then delayed several more times. Almost always a bad sign. Sure enough, around 1 pm the flight was canceled. 

Since I was supposed to start speaking at the first school on Thursday 2/26/26, I needed to arrive in Laos no later than Wednesday, and since it takes two days to get to Asia from DC, I pushed to be rebooked on a same-day flight. After at least two exasperating hours on the phone with the airline, I got my wish: a 10 pm departure. And now three connections [Dublin, Dubai, Bangkok].

Rather than waste time commuting home and back again, I just stayed at the airport, racking up over 14 hours there. 

Emirates did not have a lounge at Dulles but did have an agreement with the Air France lounge. I talked my way in by explaining that an Emirates problem would strand me at the airport for the rest of the day. It was not about the free food, though I did partake. I simply wanted a quiet, not gross place to work. I said I’d be there only a short time. Instead I rode it out till it closed at 8 pm, and no one noticed [or cared].

Problem 3: NO BOARDING PASS

Luckily, I had not checked a bag.

I arrived in Bangkok around midday on Wednesday 2/25/26. Facing an eight-hour layover, I intended to again try to talk my way into the Emirates lounge on the grounds that the flight rebooking meant I lost my cushion day. [When arranging international school visits, I always build a day into the schedule between landing and going to work so I have time to acclimate, rest, and maybe explore.]

However, my last leg, Bangkok to Vientiane, was on a regional carrier departing at 8:50 pm—and I did not yet have the boarding pass for it. That meant I could not yet go through security, which meant I had no access to the lounge. And the ticket counter for the airline would not open till 6 pm.

So I simply sat in the limbo area of the airport for the afternoon, bound to one of the only outlets I found in the vast area so I could plug in my laptop and get some work done.

Problem 4: NOT ENOUGH PASSPORT PAGES

This was the big one.

When I went to get my boarding pass, an airline rep said that the ticket number I provided was not in their system. I searched through the multiple emails I’d gotten when I was rebooked and found a different ticket number that did work. Why two? Who knows.

Then he dropped the bigger bomb. He said that to travel on, I needed two blank pages in my passport. I said I have them. He said they are the wrong kind—for endorsements [whatever that is], not visas.

I’m a seasoned traveler and hyper-organized on top of it. 

But this nearly steamrolled me.

I did not know that not all passport pages are interchangeable.

I asked if they could simply use one of the pages with only two stamps, and they said no. They double-checked with Laos immigration—still no. My only option, they said, was to get a new passport.

My spirit sunk.

It was night.

My flight was boarding in an hour. 

It typically takes weeks to get a new passport.

I shook off the shock and WhatsApped my school contact to profusely apologize that I was going to miss at least day 1 and ask if the school had any sway with immigration; sometimes these international schools know tricks. Alas, not in this case. So I returned to that one outlet to make my game plan.

By then it was close to 9 pm. I booked an affordable hotel that was near the American Embassy in Bangkok so I would not have a long trek in the early morning.

My Viber Out didn’t work so I could not call the hotel to ask if they had a shuttle.

Problem 5: NO CASH

So I took public transportation to the hotel. For the train out of the airport, I could pay simply by tapping a credit card. But then I had to change lines to a system that, unbeknownst to me, accepts only cash. 

I was only transiting through Thailand and had no local currency.

So I had to use an ATM in the subway station—felt sketchy. My first attempt seemed to work, yet no cash came out. Reaffirmed the sketchiness. I had no choice but to try again—and that time, money discharged. Later I got only one confirmation email from my bank, which was a small relief.

At the hotel, I prepared for my morning mission as if I’d be storming the beach at Normandy. 

I gathered my passport, paperwork, a portable charger, an umbrella, sunscreen, a baseball cap, a malaria pill, water, and a snack for what could be a long, hot outdoor wait. I quickly showered and went to bed, hoping the little sleep I was about to get would not be further reduced by racing thoughts.

On my way out pre-dawn on Thursday, I asked for a late checkout and the best I could get was 12:30 pm…but I did not check out. Instead I checked my bag at the front desk. 

This way, if I got back earlier than 12:30 pm, I could simply pick up my bag and return to my room to refresh, but if the my embassy adventure stretched past 12:30 pm, I wouldn’t have to worry that they’d enter my room and move my stuff. 

The embassy would open at 8 am. I wanted to be first in line, so I got there at 5:30 am. 

That did make me first; others began showing up only minutes later. By sunrise, dozens. 

An hour later, hundreds.

The embassy had separate lines for visa applicants versus Americans in a bind. I seemed to be the only lunkhead in the latter category.

Problem 6: EMAILS NOT DELIVERING

Around 7:30 am, an embassy staffer asked me to email my situation to someone in the building. That was the first step to getting inside. I did so, attaching a copy of my passport, visa application, flight itinerary, and school contract. 

Thirty minutes later, I was told the email had not arrived, so I resent. Soon after, I was asked to send a third time. Then I was asked to use my Outlook email. I said I do not have an Outlook or any other email. These glitches intensified my anxiety—I didn’t have time for delays. So I tried sending via a different app—Gmail instead of Mail—and mercifully, that worked.

By 8:30 am, I was let in. 

They have a café in there. And a lifesaving staff who agreed to issue me an emergency passport within hours. Though I’d never brought even one extra passport photo on trips, for some reason this time I took three. I needed one of them for this.

Emergency passports are more restrictive than standard passports. I checked if it would be accepted by both Laos and Myanmar, and understood that it would. 

I paid $130 at 9 am and was told to come back to pick up the passport at 2 pm. 

For what felt like the first time in days, I breathed out.

Problem 7: SAME-DAY FLIGHT

To salvage the second and final day at the Laos school, I had to book a flight that departed that day. Since it was already mid-afternoon, time was of the essence.

So as soon as I got my new [purple, temporary] passport, I sent the school the new passport number so they could book me a flight while I walked back to the hotel, retrieved my bag, and returned to the airport [again by subway—ready with cash this time].

But I did not have to rush that much because I already knew which flight I would take—the one I was not allowed on the night before. Departure 8:50 pm. Plenty of time for my favorite, pad see ew.

My emergency passport got me to Laos without incident. The staff at the Vientiane International School was gracious about my preventable travel snafu and had nimbly condensed as much as possible of the original two-day schedule into one.

The head of school, who’s been on the international circuit for much of his career, told me he, too, once had to get an emergency passport, which made me go a little easier on myself.

Friday afternoon through Saturday night were serene. I discovered that only a one-minute walk from my hotel was a charmingly unauthorized Batman-themed guesthouse. What are the chances? 

Saturday I visited Buddha Park [partially on a secret mission to be revealed later] and the temple Pha That Luang. 

The serenity was short-lived.

Problem 8: PASSPORT NUMBERS DON’T MATCH

This was the second big one.

Early Sunday 3/1/26, I went to the Vientiane airport for my flight to Yangon. 

It had not occurred to me that the Myanmar visa I’d applied for and printed from home had the old passport number. 

But it occurred to the airline. 

They would not let me board because they thought Myanmar immigration would not let me in. I said that I still had the old passport with me and that I was going to work with kids. Can’t let down the kids! 

They contacted immigration about my situation, and after maybe 20 minutes, immigration texted back. The airline rep held up her phone so I could see a single word: “denied.”

First I couldn’t get into the country. Now I couldn’t leave.

Or rather couldn’t leave for my intended destination.

The rep said the only thing I could do with an emergency passport is go home.

That was a simultaneous sucker punch and groin kick, way more alarming than when I was told to get a new passport. 

It took a few minutes to snap myself out of a mild catatonic state and restore my resolve. I’d come that far, figuratively and literally—I wasn’t going home without [another] fight. I learned that the Myanmar Embassy in Laos might be able to help.

Going to the American Embassy in Thailand was one thing. I’m American, and Bangkok has an infrastructure that caters more to foreigners. But going to the Myanmar Embassy in Laos was several steps deeper into the unknown. I’m neither Lao nor Burmese, and the cultural differences between Laos and the West seemed more pronounced. 

For the second time in five days, I messaged a school contact [this time in Myanmar] with bad news. For the second time in five days, my contact was supportive. I also messaged my Laos contact to ask if she could recommend a decent hotel near the Myanmar Embassy. She knew just the place. Though several online reviewers said their rooms were swarming with mosquitoes, I had bigger concerns and booked a night. My contact also generously ordered me a taxi.

I arrived at the hotel several hours before check-in, so I set up shop near the one working outlet I found in the large ground floor [echoes of the Bangkok airport]. Frantically, I began emailing both the Myanmar Embassy and, as a head’s up/backup, the American Embassy [which, I’d read, might be able to step in if I didn’t get anywhere with Myanmar]. I also asked the Myanmar school to whip up and send me a letter of invitation to show the embassy. 

And again I planned to get up at 5 am on Monday to be first in line so if successful, I could try to fly to Yangon later that day.

I did not know that you don’t have to go that early for the Myanmar Embassy in Laos. I also did not know something else important about that embassy...

Problem 9: MYANMAR EMBASSY CLOSED

I was the first. I was the only. 

And after standing outside the closed gate in the dark for almost an hour, hoping the stray dogs wouldn’t pay me any mind, I noticed a posted list of 2026 holidays the embassy observed. One of them was on 3/2/26...which was that day. 

That meant I just lost day 1 at the Myanmar school.

Though I felt defeated, this fluke might mean I could get back the day I lost at the Laos school. It was only 7 am! I booked a second night at the Laos hotel, then contacted my VIS host to see if the school could reschedule that lost day for today. While I waited for a reply, I ironed a shirt in case they said yes. Unfortunately, though they’d already planned for a second day with me, they weren’t ready to implement it that day.

So I worked in my hotel room. [By the way, I did not encounter a single mosquito in there.] 

That afternoon, although the embassy was closed, an embassy contact replied to my email: “Currently we can issue visa only and can’t accept emergency passport. First, you will need apply for passport at American embassy in Vientiane.”

Thing is, I had just done that in Bangkok. The emergency passport had been my only option because a full passport would take two to three weeks to process.

The American Embassy also wrote back: “If you come into any complications while in Laos, feel free to contact us”…but then said that they could not influence Myanmar immigration policy. In other words, if I come into any complications besides this one.

Even so, I planned to return to the Myanmar Embassy the next morning, Tuesday [but two hours later].

My reputation got there ahead of me. With smiles, a groundskeeper and later a security guard both said “Oh, you are the American who emailed.” 

Just before 8:30 am, a sympathetic man arrived and invited me in. No security. We sat in his cozy office and he almost immediately assured me that they could not only provide a new visa, but also put it into the passport itself, which he said was better. [The visa I’d gotten online was legit, but on a sheet of paper.] 

For good measure, I also asked if the ambassador could write me a brief letter of approval, and he did.

I also needed two passport photos—the exact number I had left.

I waited about an hour while they prepared the visa. Someone brought me tea. For only the second time in eight days, I felt at ease. 

When I was leaving the embassy, a staffer said I’m lucky because the previous ambassador would not have approved this. I told her I knew I was lucky even before I heard that.

I asked if I could thank the ambassador and they gave me his WhatsApp number. He wrote back that he was happy to help and was there if I needed more help. It was so desperately compassionate.

Like I did with the Laos school, I asked the Myanmar school if they could book my flight for that day. They did. It was more than double the price of the Bangkok-Vientiane flight. 

Like the Laos school, the Yangon school rearranged the original schedule now that we had three days instead of four.

At the airport, the visa was airtight, but the airline reps were nervous about my emergency passport. They made me sign a waiver stating that if Myanmar did not let me in, I would not expect them to pay for my return flight. I signed, with confidence. 

The ambassador had my back.

Problem 10: LANDING AFTER MIDNIGHT

Constrained by short notice, we had only two flight options, both with a connection in Bangkok: one that would get to Yangon at 10:30 pm, the other at 12:15 am. Naturally I preferred the first. The next morning was a 7:30 pickup to do six energetic sessions with kids.

I was told that this intinerary would involve two airlines that do not have an agreement, so my bag could not be checked through to Yangon. I would have to retrieve it and go back through security in Thailand—and the layover for the 10:30 arrival was not long enough for that. Sigh.

But at the airport I found out that I could have checked the bag through. Instantly lost more than an hour and a half of sleep.

Par for the course on this trip, bad soon turned to worse. We ended up landing even later, at 12:45 am. I didn’t get to bed till about 2 am. At least I’d gotten almost eight hours each of the previous two nights.

Wednesday was my first of three days at the International School of Yangon, where I was welcomed in grand style.

After school, I visited the striking Shwedagon Pagoda, the most sacred in the country.

The day was a blissful reprieve from the ongoing headaches of this trip. As I had after receiving the emergency passport, I thought I was in the clear.

I should have known better.

Problem 11: WAR GROUNDED MIDDLE EAST FLIGHTS

This was the third big one.

Thursday morning kicked me in the groin again, hard. The previous weekend, the United States and Israel had attacked Iran, and Iran’s widespread retaliation had grounded commercial flights going in or out of the Middle East.

My return flight on Friday was on Emirates. All Emirates flights go through Dubai.

Sure enough, my flight was canceled…shortly before I had to do seven back-to-back talks for kids and staff. I knew from past experience—one as recently as the week before—that rebooking international itineraries can take hours. Especially when you are in a country whose government blocks some of the internet. For example, WhatsApp didn’t work for me in Myanmar.

[Speaking of war and government, the people of Myanmar are suffering from the aftermath of a 2021 military coup and for years the military is has been committing genocide against the country’s Muslim Rohingya population.]

So I couldn’t start trying to find another way home till late afternoon…and then only for a short time because the school staff was taking me to dinner. The head of school kindly let me take his phone to my hotel to call and try to make headway before our reservation. 

I did not make headway.

So the night before I was supposed to fly home, I went to bed without knowing how—or when—I could fly home.

On Friday, I had only two talks, then spent three stressful hours in a conference room at the school juggling between chatting with airline reps online and talking with an airline customer service supervisor on the head’s phone. [Interspersed with this: students asking for autographs, hopefully oblivious to my tense state.]

Emirates had rebooked me for more than a week later, and I couldn’t wait that long. I had to get back for other speaking gigs the following week.

Sometimes I reached an agent who did not seem competent, so I would try again. Finally I got someone who was on it. After an hour of helping by chat, she asked for a number to call. In the two minutes it took me to step away and ask the head of school what number to give the rep, the chat disconnected. Mamma mia.

When the chances that Emirates would rebook me on another carrier that day died an ugly death, the assistant to the head contacted the school’s travel agent. Given that the unrest in the Middle East impacted air travel worldwide, it was a challenge to find same-day flights that were affordable...but I had to go with something. 

At 2 pm, the assistant found passage to Seoul, but it departed just before 6 pm so I had to confirm—and find a reasonable itinerary from Seoul to home—by 3 pm. 

Problem 12: COULD NOT GET VERIFICATION CODE

Fate had one last laugh at my expense.

To pay for that last leg, the site prompted me to verify my identity by texting a code to my phone. But due to the spotty internet, that code didn’t arrive after many attempts. After everything that happened the past two weeks, this was when I came closest to losing it. 

My ISY contact saved the day by helping me with a VPN. As soon as the flight was booked, I packed up and dashed to the ride to the airport that the school provided.

Because I could not fly west to get home, this trip took me literally around the world: DC-Dublin-Dubai-Bangkok-Vientiane-Bangkok-Yangon-Bangkok-Seoul-Los Angeles-DC. 

I’d passed through the Bangkok airport so much that I began to recognize certain employees. 

Of course on a five-hour leg home [Bangkok-Seoul], I had a middle seat. But I slept most of the way anyway.

Ultimately I lost two days of work and on top of that spent just shy of $2,000 [including three unplanned nights in hotels, three extra flights, a replacement visa in Myanmar, and five days of international data plan on my phone] to make it through.

 

But let’s look at the positives. 

Both schools were lovely.

And I did not get malaria or typhoid.

Quirks of the trip:

Laos accepts U.S. currency—but the bills must be new or close to it. If there’s even one fold or sign of wear, their banks won’t accept it, so neither will the restaurants or taxis.

At the sweet café in my Myanmar hotel, I ordered two scrambled eggs. After I ate them, they brought more. They thought I meant two plates of two eggs each. That night, I ordered a chicken sandwich and specified only chicken and bun—no sauce. They brought me only a bun. I tried to clarify, then they brought me a bun with chicken—and sauce. Third time, they nailed it.

On one of the umpteen flights I took, the pilot made an announcement asking passengers not to photograph the crew.

I added Ireland and Korea to the list of countries I’ve passed through without leaving the airport.

The airports [except for my origin, Dulles in DC]:

Dublin

Dubai

Bangkok

Vientiane, Laos

Yangon, Myanmar

Seoul

Los Angeles

DC [Reagan]

The boarding passes [8 out of 10]:

Lessons about international travel from my cautionary tale:

• three months before departure, make sure your passport has enough blank visa pages for your destinations
• bring extra passport photos
• travel light in case you have to move around quickly
• when things go wrong, stay cool; it will be hard but it will serve you better until things go right again

Levity:

in my first Laos hotel

helpful Burmese phrases

[I regret not having the chance to use the last one]

the sign on a broken diaper-changing table in a 
Bangkok airport bathroom summed it up...

Thank you again to my hosts, Terea at VIS and Nadine at ISY, for your patience and flexibility.

"Legendary" school visits - IASL newsletter

In 2024, I recorded a talk on censorship for an International Association of School Librarianship conference. 

The December 2025 newsletter for IASL, Region 4 [Latin America & Caribbean], humbled me with this profile:

"...his school visits have become legendary for their energy, humor, and impact. Marc is the rare author whose real-life adventures often rival the stories he writes. During his visit to Tanzania, for instance, a UFO reportedly crashed on campus the night before he arrived!"

American International School of Muscat, Oman

Part of a series: Middle East, October 2023:

• Jordan—American Community School, Amman
• Jordan—Jerash (Greco-Roman ruins)
• Jordan—Dead Sea
• Jordan—Petra (Nabataean Arab city/archaeological site)
• Jordan—Wadi Rum (desert)
• Oman—American International School of Muscat
• Oman—Wadi Shab (hike/swim)

After a profound week in Jordan, I flew to the bottom of the Arabian Peninsula to speak for three days at the American International School of Muscat in Oman. 

I arrived on 10/15/23, then stayed in my fifth hotel in five nights (10/11 Amman, 10/12 Petra, 10/13 Wadi Rum, 10/14 Amman but only for a few hours because my flight to Oman departed at 2:25 am.).

As with my host Paige Spilles at the American Community School in Amman, I was blessed with a standout host in Ryan Callaway (who has worked with my Paige). He picked me up at the airport, took me to dinner with colleagues, invited me to play ultimate frisbee with staff in 100° weather, invited me to his home, and recommended/found me a guide for Wadi Shab.

The Israel-Hamas war was in week 2 but Oman is further removed than Jordan both geographically and culturally. I’m told there are few Palestinians at the school and in the country (not that only Palestinians have strong feelings about the situation). 

I felt no guardedness from certain students the way I did in Jordan.

As with ACS, I worked primarily with high schoolers: an assembly, a breakout writing or visual literacy workshop with each class, and a screening of Batman & Bill (for staff).

Thank you again to Ryan and TAISM for hosting me with such warmth.

American Community School, Jordan—two days after Hamas attacked Israel

Part of a series: Middle East, October 2023:

• Jordan—American Community School, Amman
• Jordan—Jerash (Greco-Roman ruins)
• Jordan—Dead Sea
• Jordan—Petra (Nabataean Arab city/archaeological site)
• Jordan—Wadi Rum (desert)
• Oman—American International School of Muscat
• Oman—Wadi Shab (hike/swim)

Whew, what a year in school visits.

In Taiwan in March, a trip in the works since before the pandemic, two of my three librarian hosts were unable to be there for my school visit because of unexpected, 11th hour developments—one due to a family matter, the other because she got COVID.

In Georgia in August and Texas in September, schools canceled me when I refused to omit the word “gay” from talks to elementary students. 

Then came an issue even more personal for me.

I am sharing it here because I feel it has the potential to be insightful and inspiring, as it was for some people directly involved. For others, it may instead be infuriating. 

The month before an October trip to speak at an American school in both Jordan and Oman and a side trip to see Israel for the first time, parents at the Jordan school were in a “fervor” when they discovered that I am on the board of an Israeli organization.

Except I’m not.

But I am Jewish. 

The parents were referring to my time serving on the regional board of BBYO, a Jewish youth group—yes, when I was a teenager.

This somewhat fraught situation was about to get even more complicated. I departed for Jordan the evening of 10/6/23, and while I was on the plane, Hamas attacked Israel, murdering about 1,200 people (primarily civilians) in a day and seizing more than 200 hostages.

In the Middle East, the weekend is Friday and Saturday. I was scheduled to present for three days at the American Community School in Amman starting on Monday 10/10. This would include three assemblies (elementary, middle, and high), a professional development workshop, and writing/visual literacy workshops for smaller groups of high schoolers (meaning I would see every participating high schooler twice). 

The night before, I was asked to join a Zoom with heads of school, none of whom I’d been in touch with before. 

They wanted to check if I felt safe and wanted to update me on the rising tension at the school, which has a significant Palestinian population. They also—understandably—wanted to know if I planned to mention the geopolitical situation that had gotten even more volatile overnight. I said no. They asked how I would answer if a student asked me about it. I said I would say it’s a valid question, though not a topic I was there to discuss, nor one about which I have any authority.

I appreciated their sensitivity on both fronts.

Earlier that day, an administrative assistant, who is Palestinian, was asked to read several of my books to assess them for content that could be problematic for their population. (Page 1 of Bill the Boy Wonder mentions that Bill Finger was Jewish.) The assistant wondered if the mention of Hitler (in Boys of Steel) would upset their (few) Jewish students. Otherwise the assistant expressed no concerns.

That same Sunday night, more than one anonymous account posted “Free Palestine” or similar comments under my Instagram posts related to Judaism.

The following morning, my first at the school, the administration received a petition from 127 parents who did not want my visit to proceed. They had seen and disapproved of my Facebook post of 10/7.

(With great disappointment, I called off my trip to Israel.)

Head of school Joelle Basnight saw this as a chance for the school to live up to its stated commitment to inclusivity. 

Unlike Georgia and Texas, ACS did not cancel my visit—which would have been the path of least resistance. And the stakes in Jordan were serious on a whole other level. 

I, too, was eager to carry on and prepared to compartmentalize.

I applauded and thanked the school—not on my own behalf but rather for the kids. I told staff how much I appreciated their courage—which I would repeat numerous times over the next three days.

Before each assembly, school leaders reminded students how to treat a guest. At least one teacher cautioned against ad hominem. 

However…students were allowed to opt out of attending. I said that I am not in favor of opt-out options. I believe we should require students to attend all events within a safe space, even those that may be beyond their comfort zone. 

The world is challenging. We do students no favors by trying to shield them from this.  

The subsequent discussions with teachers and parents are fertile opportunities for growth.

But due to the fragility of the circumstances, I felt in this case it was acceptable to offer an opt-out (not that it was up to me). 

I was originally told that 30 high schoolers chose to skip my talk, but later learned it was more. A few tried to walk out during the assembly, but staff stopped them, saying “You already made your choice.”

Some kids wore the Arabic headdress called a keffiyeh or hattah and/or shirts referencing Palestine. I did not feel threatened, but did not feel welcomed by that segment. I was told that students did not wear keffiyehs on Sunday, the first day of school after the attack, and instead started on Monday—the day I arrived. So it was indeed a statement aimed at me.

Of course I am not an official ambassador of Israel or the Jewish people. That said, I understood—emotions were in overdrive and we all have the right to support our communities. Some students have family members in Gaza. (The following week, after the 10/17 explosion at a hospital in Gaza, ACS closed for three days of mourning.)

The high school audience was virtually nonreactive. Typical teen behavior? More protest? Likely some of both. I was told that they would not get a Q&A session.

(The middle and elementary audiences, however, let themselves enjoy the presentation. They laughed and applauded at the usual cues. And I was able to answer questions.)

The high school breakout sessions were more charged—at first. Fewer kids, smaller space, nowhere to hide for them or me. But the material is engaging, if I may say so, and my approach, as always, shows kids I respect their intelligence and value their opinion. They warmed to me. We got our Q&A. I felt I had a few breakthroughs with Palestinian students.

After one session, a senior asked my advice on his college application essay. After another, a high schooler walking out with his friends turned back to me and placed his hand on his heart. This silent gesture moved me deeply.

Throughout my time at the school, to my surprise, none of the Jewish staff or students approached me and identified themselves as such. Indifference? Fear? Likely some of both.

A central element of who I am combined with highly distressing current events meant my hosts had to contend with more than they signed up for. I was frequently asked if I was still comfortable. My hosts answered hard questions and sometimes had to be the bearer of bad news. They thought of everything. 

Example 1: my hosts suggested that the division heads hold their pre-assembly debrief with students before they enter the auditorium—in other words, before they see me. That probably wouldn’t have occurred to me but seemed like a good call. 

Example 2: I used the same laptop for every workshop and one night we left it out in the library overnight; the next morning, my hosts suggested that I check my presentations before starting in case anyone had modified it. (No one had.)

On my third and final day at the school, I was told that a high school student, the child of a prominent politician, had told a staff member that after hearing her friends discuss the assembly, she regretted that she had opted out of it.

Despite the underlying feeling of unease, I felt the visit went smoothly. I did not directly hear a single negative comment or see a single instance of inappropriate behavior. I realize I was not privy to all that happened behind the scenes, but that is all the more reason I hold this school in the highest regard. 

Despite intense objection and fear of reprisal, they forged ahead as planned because they felt that was in the best interest of their students—and in the spirit of the school. 

This was bravery. This was conviction. This was leadership. 

Thank you yet again to ACS for showing how it’s done. 

I echo the sentiments of some of your staff who told me they feel my visit will have positive ripple effects beyond any academic boost from my sessions.

A primary goal of my school visits is to inspire students to speak up for whatever cause is meaningful to them—even when that is difficult. 

A primary goal of this school visit was to connect with kids one human to another and embolden them to view others not as symbols but as individuals.

Phnom Penh, Cambodia, including the Killing Fields

Part of a series: Asia, March 2023:

• Taiwan—Taipei American School 
• Malaysia—EARCOS conference (Kota Kinabalu)
• Malaysia—Survivor Island (Borneo)
• Cambodia—schools and history in Phnom Penh
• Cambodia—Siem Reap
• Cambodia—Angkor Wat/other temples

On 3/26/23, after a dream day on Survivor Island (Pulau Tiga off the coast of Borneo), I woke at 2:50 am for my 3:20 am ride to the airport for my 5:20 am flight to Phnom Penh. This would be my third week in Asia and my third country on the trip.

rotary design, Phnom Penh style

That it was, in more ways than one.

When I was there, the lows were in the high 70s, highs in the mid-90s. 

My Phnom Penh hotel, Baitong, was a form of a dream as well—no false notes. Wonderful staff, nicely designed, environmentally conscious, good food, the convenience of good food on site, cool rooftop for eating that food, a small bakery on site with nutless banana muffins (my favorite), even a tranquil “forest pool.”

It also had a second, more traditional pool...except for the fact that you could look up into the pool from the lobby.

Soon after settling in, I set out for what would be the two most emotionally challenging stops of my three weeks in Asia: the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum (formerly the S-21 torture prison, and before that, a high school) and the Killing Fields. 

I went in knowing virtually nothing about Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge, the Communist regime that tyrannized its own people from 1975 to 1979. For starters, I did know not “Khmer” is a term that some Cambodians use to refer to themselves and their language. And while I was familiar with the term “Killing Fields” (from the title of a movie I’ve never seen), I did not know that it refers to more than one site around the country, though it now seems obvious.

The prison was converted to a museum very quickly after the Vietnamese toppled Pol Pot’s rule. The place is almost unbearable. You walk throughout rooms where innocent people were tortured beyond human comprehension. In some spots you think you can almost still see the bloodstains on the floors and walls. At least 20,000 Cambodians suffered and were murdered there. The number known to have survived: 12.

barbed wire

dozens of displays of victims

some were kids

The photo on the wall shows the same room but with 

a victim. It was grotesque and profoundly sad.

As a child, this man survived the prison and now

sells a book about his experience at the museum.

I visited the most well-known Killing Fields site, Choeung Ek, which is in Phnom Penh. Also nearly unbearable.

Buddhist stupa with grim contents

For the next three days, I spoke at two schools: Canadian International on Monday and Tuesday, Australian International on Wednesday. Yes, an American speaking at a Canadian and an Australian school in Cambodia. That’s some kind of punchline in the making. Yet for now, it was only a fulfilling round of assemblies and writing workshops with a largely Cambodian group of young people. 

Though I’ve been to Asia multiple times before, including a similarly long trip in 2016 (that also included three countries, one of which was also Malaysia), this trip marked the first time I rode in a tuk-tuk (three-wheeled, motorized taxi common throughout Asia). It was how I got to and from CIS. With an app called Grab (comparable to Lyft), it was easy—and not nearly as loud or fast as I was expecting. The breeze was nice, too.

Thank you again to my hosts at both schools, Lisa and Stacy, for the enriching privilege of visiting your country. They took a chance on me on fairly short notice and I’m grateful. I was Stacy’s first in-person author since COVID, her first American author…and since she’s retiring at the end of the school year, her last author.

me and the Mekong River