As we board our rental van outside our Mae Sot hotel in Thailand, our group leader, Pauline, spots a stray dog wandering the street. While stray dogs are common here, this one looks particularly scruffy. “Oh, that poor dog!” Pauline exclaims. “When we return, I’ll see if I can get him some food.”
This reaction encapsulates Pauline Tee perfectly: deeply compassionate and immediately considerate. Although a mutual friend had described her as “a sweetheart,” it felt like an understatement. Pauline dedicates her energy, time, and resources to causes she cares about, demonstrating a genuine generosity that restores faith in humanity.
As we prepare to visit one of the three Burmese schools on our agenda for the week, Pauline reviews our plans and introduces us to the people we will meet. Mae Sot is on the Thai border with Burma (now Myanmar). Many refugees escaped their homeland due to decades of conflict and unrest. Others belong to ethnic groups persecuted in Myanmar or are migrant workers who either legally or illegally contribute to Thailand's labor force.
Among them are thousands of displaced children—some orphaned, some stateless—whose well-being depends on the kindness of others and whose future hinges on receiving an education.
Being stateless is a challenging status to endure. It essentially means lacking an official nationality or any documentation that proves one's country of origin. Accessing resources, qualifying for aid, or receiving support from official entities becomes extremely difficult without such identification. Statelessness creates a dire humanitarian predicament, leaving individuals with few options and exposing children to risks like trafficking, exploitation, and abuse.
In Mae Sot, Burmese migrant schools offer displaced and stateless children a safe learning space. However, these schools face significant challenges due to the pervasive poverty and instability affecting their students. Pauline, originally from Malaysia and currently employed by an international bank in Singapore, connected with these schools nearly a decade ago during a volunteer trip with colleagues. Since then, she has made at least biannual trips to Mae Sot, establishing several programs to aid the children.
One morning, we visit the Thai/Burmese border, where a vibrant marketplace and duty-free shops are located. Pauline points to an area beyond the shops called “No Man’s Land”—a section of land that neither country effectively controls. Here, hundreds of stateless Burmese individuals, including children, live in makeshift shelters of plastic tarps and wood. Despite loose monitoring by Thai soldiers during the day, this area remains rife with lawlessness, drug trafficking, and child exploitation.
“I can’t just walk away from these children after seeing their living conditions,” Pauline says. “It’s like seeing someone injured on the road—you can't ignore them. That’s what keeps me coming back to Mae Sot repeatedly.”
With support from her partner Fun, Pauline has dedicated the past decade to supporting these children. She established several schools' Lunch Everyday programs to ensure students receive a nutritious meal on weekdays. She also sponsors Burmese children to attend Thai schools, covering fees and transportation to enhance their educational opportunities. Additionally, Pauline organizes large birthday parties with cakes, presents, games, and music to celebrate these children’s lives, many of whom lack knowledge of their birthdays.
Pauline invites friends and acquaintances to Mae Sot twice yearly to help with these events. Our team of birthday volunteers comes from Singapore, Hong Kong, Indonesia, and the U.S. and includes a 19-year-old college student named Jo Jo now helps Pauline with the birthday parties. Our role is to manage logistics, assist with games and activities, light candles on cupcakes, distribute goody bags and t-shirts, and generally make the day unique for the kids.
During our first visit to the largest school, which serves 230 children, Jo Jo brought a group of Burmese teenagers to help with translation and game organization. It’s evident from the start that Jo Jo is an exceptional young leader. Pauline first met him when he was ten and was impressed by his confidence. (He was one of the first to address her as “Pauline” rather than “Teacher.”) Jo Jo now studies International Relations at a university in Myanmar, having received a scholarship from an Australian NGO.
Jo Jo loves returning to help with the birthday events. “The annual birthday party is a wonderful event for refugee children,” he says in English. “It helps them feel valued and important.” He has even started a similar program at an orphanage in Myanmar.
Pauline is committed to returning to the same schools yearly for these birthday events. She only considers adding a new school if she can ensure ongoing support, and this long-term dedication has been fruitful. The nearly 600 children at the five schools she supports anticipate Pauline's birthday parties with the same excitement as children everywhere look forward to their birthdays.
“People often call us ‘The Happy Group,’” Pauline says. “I used to call us the ‘Independent Volunteers’ because we’re not part of any NGO. We’re just a group of volunteers trying to bring joy to these kids and make their lives a little better.”
Pauline emphasizes that birthday parties are more than just fun events. “Celebrating a birthday is a celebration of existence,” she explains. “For these kids, our birthday program represents more than just fun and games; it acknowledges their value and existence.” It’s a way of showing them they are noticed and valued.
Over three days, we host birthday celebrations for around 430 kids from preschool to high school. Most children wear school uniforms, though some dress up for the occasion. Many apply thanakha, a traditional Burmese skincare paste, to their faces, a common practice among Burmese people of all ages.
As an experienced teacher, I’ve observed many children and can quickly spot typical traits—teacher’s pets, class clowns, shy but warming up with time. I see the usual mix of silliness, teasing, and camaraderie among the kids. However, what I can’t see are the hardships some of them face—hunger, orphanhood, or abuse. While we cannot change their situations, Pauline’s efforts help remind them that they are not forgotten.
Pauline reflects on her first encounter with the harsh realities faced by stateless and displaced children. “Seeing their vulnerability and knowing they are children who can’t protect themselves drives me,” she says. “They are entirely at the mercy of their circumstances, which motivates me to keep going.”
Though Pauline knows that many children worldwide are in need, she focuses on Mae Sot and its children to make a tangible impact. “There are vulnerable children everywhere,” she acknowledges. “I just happened to meet these kids first. If I had gone elsewhere, I might have done the same. But I chose to concentrate my efforts here. The needs are immense, and focusing on one place allows for a more sustainable impact rather than spreading myself too thin.”
Fun supports Pauline’s work, adding a social and emotional component through his role as a stress management coach. He introduced a self-mastery program and hired a local teacher to implement it. He also maintains monthly Skype sessions with the students, who report gaining strength, self-awareness, and coping skills from the program.
When asked if she has considered formalizing her efforts into an NGO, Pauline explains that the stateless status of some individuals complicates funding and logistical support. She worries that managing an official organization might detract from her direct work with the children. Instead, she keeps her fundraising personal, covers most expenses herself, and oversees her programs directly. “I know what drains me, so I stick to what works,” she says. Her successful banking career now serves to fund her work with displaced children in Mae Sot, which she views as her true calling.
Pauline describes her work as a passion rather than just a job. “My career funds my work with children,” she says. “It’s a calling I’ve found.”
Observing Pauline’s dedication, I am reminded of the many unsung heroes working at the grassroots level, helping specific communities without seeking recognition. Pauline’s generosity is both humbling and inspiring, and the world would benefit from more individuals like her.