Search “day in the life of a teacher in Thailand” and you’ll find hundreds of videos following roughly the same script. A sunrise. An iced coffee. A classroom full of cheering kids. A sunset over the night market.

All of it real, to be fair. Just stitched together from about six different days, with the marking, the paperwork, and the lesson where nobody understood the present perfect tense left on the cutting room floor.

So I’m putting an average day down on paper instead. Less cinematic, I’ll admit. But a lot more honest.

Before I went behind the scenes at Impact Teaching, I spent a year teaching at a regular Thai high school in Phetchabun. If you’ve never heard of it, you’re not alone, which is a shame for such a beautiful province that sits almost exactly in the middle of the country.

These days I’m on the other side of it, working with our partner schools and the teachers we place in them, everywhere from international kindergartens to big government high schools like mine. Every school runs things its own way, so wherever your day might look different from mine, I’ll flag it as we go.

One honest note before the alarm goes off. You don’t get to hand-pick your school. We’ll get as close to your preferences on location and school type as we possibly can, but we can’t promise them, and the teachers who do best here are the ones who can roll with that, like I did. Phetchabun wasn’t remotely on my radar before I ended up there, and now I can’t drive down to Bangkok without stopping off. If you’re reading this, I’d guess you’re at least thinking about it, so better you hear it now than later down the line.

What I can promise is that you’ll be photographed more in your first month than at your own graduation, and that the staffroom will never, under any circumstances, run out of snacks.

6.30am: The cold shower

Everyone’s morning looks different, so I’ll keep mine brief. A lap of the block with the dog, then into the shower, which in a lot of Thai homes means cold water and nothing else. Water heaters just aren’t standard here.

For most of the year, you won’t miss one. Then the cool season arrives and you find out how soft you’ve become. It only hit 18°C today, and as daft as it sounds, I was freezing.

Breakfast could wait. Plenty of teachers grab something from a stall on the way in, and you’ll have a regular within a week, but I saved mine for school.

7.30am: The ride in

Outside Bangkok, a moped is the way to get around, and the ride to school was one of my favourite parts of the day. Down the main street past the stalls setting up, through a few sets of lights, and by the last one the sun was already warm on my back.

There are worse ways to start a working day. Ask anyone who’s stood at a British bus stop in November.

At the gate, the school security guard gives you the same cheerful hello as every other morning. A few students spot you and shout “Hello, teacher!” from across the yard, and you wave back like a minor celebrity. Then it’s a quick press of your finger on the fingerprint scanner to clock in, and the working day properly begins.

7.45am: Everything stops

I’d drop my bag in the staffroom, catch up with the other teachers for a few minutes, then head down to the yard before eight, where the whole school lines up in rows for the flag raising.

At eight o’clock every morning, the national anthem plays across Thailand, and while it plays, people stand still. In a school yard, that rule is absolute. The first time you see it is something else. One second a late student is sprinting across the yard, and the next he’s frozen mid-stride, waiting for the final note before he’s allowed to finish the run.

The flag goes up during the anthem, followed by a tribute to the King and Buddhist chanting. Each one honours one of the three pillars Thai society is built on: nation, monarchy, and religion.

Some mornings start earlier. Gate duty rotates around the staff, and when it’s your turn, you stand at the gate and greet every student on their way in, usually to a wai and a chorus of “Good morning, teacher!” It came round about once a fortnight for me. Bring your best smile, and possibly a coffee.

9.00am: Lessons

From here, your day depends mostly on how tall your students are.

In a kindergarten, there aren’t many gaps. You’re less a teacher with a timetable and more a friendly, full-time English speaker, joining in with everything and slipping English into all of it, from snack time to shoelaces. You’ll lead the odd lesson, but the best bit comes after lunch, when the whole class goes down for a nap at once and the room falls silent. You’ll usually finish earlier than teachers in older schools, too.

In primary and high schools, you’re teaching proper timetabled lessons, and the timetable has a mind of its own. One day is wall-to-wall classes. The next, you’ve got a free morning. Classes in government schools are often around 40 strong, so you soon learn that energy and a good game will get you further than the perfect worksheet.

My free mornings had a ritual: breakfast and a coffee, ordered to the school gate on Foodpanda (RIP, it pulled out of Thailand in 2025, so these days it’s Grab or LINE MAN). When I was teaching straight away, the gap between the anthem and the first bell went on a last look over the lesson plan. Beyond that, free periods are yours. Plan, mark, rest, or, if your school is relaxed about it, pop out for an early lunch.

12.00pm: Lunch

Thai teachers take lunch seriously, and they’ll take yours seriously too. Most staff eat together in the canteen or the staffroom, and you’ll be asked “gin khao reu yang?” (have you eaten yet?) so often you’ll realise it’s really just a way of saying hello. Answer no, though, and a plate will appear in front of you whether you wanted one or not.

1.00pm: The afternoon shift

The afternoon runs much like the morning, with one big difference: energy. Put 40 teenagers in a warm classroom half an hour after lunch and you’ll see what I mean. Afternoons are for games, movement, and anything that gets them out of their seats before they fall asleep in them.

Every so often, the timetable goes out of the window. A sports day, a ceremony, or a visiting VIP can move or cancel your lessons with very little warning. Once you’ve settled in, you might also get roped into something extra, like helping students rehearse a drama piece for a school show. It’s never guaranteed, and it never lasts more than a few weeks.

Not every day is a good one. Some lessons die a quiet death, and some afternoons you’ll be counting down to the bell. But the days go fast, and I lost count of the times I walked into school with something weighing on me and walked out without it. It’s hard to stay stuck in your own head with a room full of cheeky, lovely students in front of you and colleagues who’ve got your back. You focus on the work, reset, and go again.

4.00pm: Clocking out

When the last bell goes, what happens next depends on your school and the people in it. Some staffrooms have a standing volleyball game. Others head straight out for food together. Either way, once you’ve clocked out, the rest of the day belongs to you.

As much fun as school can be, this is where life in Thailand really gets going. Maybe it’s a wander round the market, dinner with friends, or a spot of Netflix therapy with a Grab order and your feet up. I’ve done my fair share of all three.

Could this be your average day?

If this sounds like a day you could get used to, our Thailand programs are the place to start. We place teachers in kindergartens, primary schools, and high schools in six areas, from Bangkok to provincial towns like the one I taught in:

  • Bangkok: the big city, with the biggest community of teachers
  • Chiang Rai: mountains, greenery, and a slower pace up north
  • Hua Hin: a laid-back seaside town south of the capital
  • Isan: the rural north-east, and Thailand at its most traditional
  • Krabi: limestone cliffs and islands on the Andaman coast
  • Samut Sakhon: seafood and local markets, just outside Bangkok

Placements last six months or a year, and every new teacher starts in the same place: Bangkok, for our two-day orientation. I run it myself, and it never gets old. Over those two days you’ll meet the rest of your group, get trained for the realities of a Thai classroom, and spend your evenings eating your way round the street food stalls, swapping nerves and plans. Most teachers arrive a bit wide-eyed. They leave with a group chat, friends scattered across the country, and a much clearer idea of what their first Monday will look like.

After that, you’re never on your own. I live up in Chiang Mai province, I’ve taught in a Thai school myself, and I’m only ever a message away.

April is our main intake, giving you a few weeks to find your feet before the Thai school year starts in May. Applications usually take three to four months, so if April 2027 is in your sights, now is the time to get going. If April comes round too fast, there’s a second intake in October.

You’ll find locations, salaries, and start dates on our Thailand program page, and if you’ve never taught before, our guide to teaching English in Thailand with no experience is worth a read. Or just drop us a line at info@impact-teaching.com. We’ll happily walk you through it.