From Volunteer to Program Coordinator: My Journey Building Schools in Cambodia

The Two Weeks That Changed Everything

I was 24 when I first went to Cambodia. A recent graduate with a vague idea of "doing good," I signed up for a two-week volunteer trip building schools in Siem Reap province. I thought it would be a nice experience—a story to tell, a line on my resume, maybe some Instagram photos with grateful children.

I had no idea that two weeks would turn into two years, then a career, then a calling.

First Impressions

Arriving in Siem Reap, the famous temples of Angkor Wat were just minutes away. But we weren't tourists; we drove past the temples toward villages that tourists never see.

The school we were building was in a community where children walked kilometers to the nearest classroom. During rainy season, many couldn't attend at all. The building we were constructing would change that.

Or so I thought.

The Wake-Up Call

The first day of building was humbling. I had never laid a brick in my life. The local construction workers we were "helping" could work circles around us—and they did, patiently, while teaching us basics.

By day three, I had a disturbing thought: *Are we actually helping, or are we in the way?*

I asked the project coordinator, a Cambodian man named Sophal. His answer was honest:

"Your hands are less useful than your presence. When villages see foreigners care enough to come, they believe their children matter. And your donations fund everything we actually build."

It was the first crack in my savior complex. But it wouldn't be the last.

The Decision to Stay

At the end of two weeks, the walls were up. The roof would come later, after we left. I felt frustrated—I wanted to see it finished, see children walk through the doors.

Sophal asked if I wanted to stay longer. I said yes without thinking. I called my parents, quit my job search, and extended my visa.

What was supposed to be an adventure became an apprenticeship.

Learning the Real Work

Over the next months, Sophal taught me what sustainable development actually looks like:

Community involvement wasn't a checkbox—it was everything. Every decision went through village meetings. Community members contributed labor and resources according to their ability. The school wasn't a gift; it was a shared project.

Local hiring meant that my volunteer labor was actually less valuable than paying local workers fairly. The project created jobs, kept money in the community, and built local capacity.

Long-term thinking meant planning for maintenance, teacher salaries, and educational materials—not just buildings. A school without support is just a shell.

Relationships over projects. Sophal had been working in these communities for fifteen years. Volunteers came and went, but his relationships endured. I realized that trust can't be fast-tracked.

Becoming a Coordinator

After a year, Sophal asked if I wanted to take on coordinator responsibilities. I would manage incoming volunteers, liaise with communities, and help plan new projects.

I was terrified. Who was I to coordinate anything? But Sophal believed in me, and the community had started to trust me.

The next year was the hardest and most fulfilling of my life.

What I Learned as Coordinator

Volunteers need management. Enthusiastic foreigners can do real harm without guidance. My job was to channel their energy productively while protecting communities from well-meaning chaos.

Saying no is essential. Not every project was a good idea. Not every donor requirement aligned with community needs. Learning to push back—diplomatically—was crucial.

Burnout is real. The emotional weight of the work, combined with distance from home and culture shock, takes a toll. I learned to recognize it in myself and others.

Small wins matter. Grand visions are nice, but the magic is in moments: a child reading for the first time, a village well that provides clean water, a family that can send their daughter to school.

The Schools Today

The first school I helped build is now ten years old. Over 500 children have passed through its doors. Several graduates have gone on to university—the first in their families' histories.

But what I'm prouder of is what happened after:

This is what sustainability looks like: not dependence, but capacity.

Reflections on Voluntourism

Would I recommend a two-week volunteer trip? It's complicated.

The risks are real. Short-term volunteers can disrupt, displace local workers, and perpetuate harmful dynamics. "Orphanage tourism" does genuine damage. Many volunteer trips benefit travelers more than communities.

But something valuable happened to me. That two-week trip cracked open my assumptions and sent me on a different path. The experience mattered—not for what I built with my hands, but for what it built in me.

My Advice for Volunteers

Find sustainable volunteer programs at volunteertotheworld.com →

Where I Am Now

Today, I work in international development, drawing on those Cambodian years every day. I've learned that real change is slow, complex, and often invisible.

But I've also learned that individual choices matter. My choice to stay, to learn, to commit—it mattered to the communities I served and to the person I became.

That 24-year-old who landed in Siem Reap for "a nice experience" could never have imagined this path. But I'm grateful he took the first step.

The temples of Angkor have stood for nearly a thousand years. With luck, those village schools will stand for a generation or more. And somewhere in those classrooms, a child is learning to dream of futures we can't yet imagine.

That's enough.

Thinking about long-term volunteering? Read our [Gap Year Planning Guide](/blog/gap-year-planning-timeline) and [Ethics Guide](/blog/volunteering-with-children-ethics).