Did I Make Myself Clear?

I didn't even have to confiscate mobiles.

My mobile-talking, carpet-peeing puppy of a student didn't even come to class tonight. A co-worker of his told me that for whatever reason, he is unable to attend future classes. What a shame. Really, my heart aches.

Maybe I'm becoming an authority.

Thy Will Be Done...

Tonight one of my idiotic students--the kind who can't handle being back in school because he's not actually in charge--and to be bossed about by a young yabancı in a skirt, no less--surreptitiously answered his mobile in class while I was doing an exercise. I noticed him, just stopped mid-sentence, looked at him, caused the entire class of eleven to look at him hunched over his desk, hand cupped around the mouthpiece to muffle his voice, waited till he noticed us, ended his call, walked over to us to participate, apologized but said he was very busy and important with work, looked me in the eye and received his "No," from me, like he was a puppy who had just peed on the rug.

Tomorrow I will confiscate everyone's mobiles at the beginning of class as punishment. :-P

Music, Sweet Music

I don't know how many eyebrows had gone up at the words: "I'm going alone." Alone? At this time of night? At your age? With your Turkish skills? All the way to Bornova? Yes.

Anything for the sake of Pinhani, the Turkish band I've discovered that is me. I've been talking about their concert for almost six weeks. Damned if my boyfriend is working, if my colleagues are too tired, if my Turkish friend hates the concert venue because she feels claustrophobic. I'll go alone. *gulp* Yeah, I tell myself. That's right. I came to Turkey alone. What's a few hours at a concert in comparison?! Cowgirl up, as a dear old prof of mine would say.

So I leave from work...

After the 10 minute walk to the metro; the subsequent 15 minute ride to the university-ridden quarter: Bornova; the quick kaşarli tost at Mambo, a diner in Küçük Park; the conversation with the two adorable waiters that led to a map drawn in my notebook of randomly accumulated Turkish with the advice: "Ask young persons. Old persons dangerous! Come back if you get lost;" the unsure walk through the surrounding neighborhoods; the circling back; finding a different rock bar; asking for directions three times AND randomly following different groups with whom I had zero affiliation; finding myself walking down a long, pitch black alley which couldn't possibly lead to the concert, thus spurring CSI-influenced subconscious thoughts to bubble up (that was exactly the sort I place I should get raped and murdered if it ever were to happen); deciding mid-pitch-black-alley that if I didn't find the bar in three minutes, I should go back; finding it 97 seconds later (poetic irony); paying my 20TL to get in; having my bag searched; receiving my ticket and floating down the bottle green-lit tunnel like a bubble in a Carlsberg beer bottle; pushing my way to the front of the crowd; waiting an hour while the cover band warmed up; waiting half an hour while the real McCoy set up; getting crushed up near the front of the crowd, maybe twenty feet from the stage; finally, finally, at midnight, I heard the first few chords of my beloved Pinhani, and knew that the last two and a half hours had all been worth it. Always keep going.

And when one guitar is not enough, get three: acoustic and two electric. And a bass, drums, a piano for the occasional part, a saxophone, a trumpet, a trombone (the horns played on rotation by the horn player and lead guitarist/vocalist who is obviously too talented for his own good), and once if for only a few bars, but dear lord what were they thinking?!, a kazoo. That's right. Is it jazz? Rock? Blues? Ska? Traditional Turkish? I don't know--it's because it defies a category that I love it. Take me to your leader.

Located directly under a speaker--without a chair, and in the path of the barmen who constantly fetched patrons overpriced booze--I felt like I'd died and gone to heaven. As the songs built and peaked and relaxed, I was beyond grateful for music's ability to communicate and transport. Floating on guitar rifts, on the beautiful-yet-incomprehensible Turkish lyrics; hammered by the drums; experiencing religion in my English-isolated consciousness. Alcohol, drugs or companionship would have been so unnecessary. I tripped home by 2 a.m. and beamed through a 10 hour day on four hours of sleep.

I was talking with some of my students about my adventure; the woman in class said she'd never go alone... But why?! I want to know. I mean, shouldn't I take the locals' word for it?! Aren't I a fool to second guess wisdom about her own city? But I had zero problems. I didn't drink anything. I didn't invite attention and no one reciprocated, save one of the barmen who tried to chat me up about English lessons (he was quickly ditched in the crushing crowd without further incident).

I went alone. Late at night. At my age. With my Turkish skills. All the way to Bornova. Yes. You could, too.

Tentative moral of the story: The world is safer than we have been led to believe.

Kicking Ass and Taking Names

Tuesday was a long day, but it was triumphant. I am working like none other, but it is paying off. I haven't felt the legitimate rise of panic/stress in at least a couple months. Amazing. What's happening to me?! I got so stressed in college where I was graded, and there was maybe a sense of absolute perfection that I strove to attain. With teaching, however, there is a constantly moving target, and perfection is impossible because a) there simply isn't time and b) you can't possibly anticipate all of the problems your students will encounter with a given subject.

It's a novel experience for me to be so laid back about everything. We'll see how long it lasts. I mean, there are times when I find myself legitimately concerned about my abilities. For the most part, however, I am keeping my head above water.

I had two triumphant moments today. It's especially gratifying considering that they occurred during a 12-hour day on my fifth consecutive day of work.

The first:
I've been having one-to-one lessons with a student who recently completed K6, but wanted a review of the entire Elementary level. It was our penultimate lesson this morning and I was breaching the Present Perfect.

I was asking her if she had ever been to Istanbul. Yes, she had. So then I followed up with how many times (in her life) she had been to Istanbul. She kept thinking that I wanted to know how long her last stay had been. Three days, was her answer, and when I kept asking how many times she'd been, I could sense her frustration of failure mounting.

"No problem! No problem," I assured her with a smile, squeezing her arm gently. "There's no problem." But there was a problem. I had no idea what to do besides repeat the question. I sat for a moment, trying to figure out another way around the problem. It suddenly dawned on me.

"Neşe, ask me the question."

"How many times have you been to Istanbul?"

"I've never been to Istanbul," I said, holding up the fingers of my right hand in the shape of an O for zero. "I've been zero times."

She got it. That flicker of understanding flashed across Nese's face. Amazing how that transcends language.

We grinned hugely at each other. I solved the problem. A triumph that seems so small, but was so epic at the moment.

"How many times have you been to Istanbul?" I asked again.

"Seven," she answered.

The second:
My Upper Intermediate students will soon be taking their K21 exam. They are more than a year past Neşe's studies. Though they still struggle with the Perfect tenses, tonight our challenge was cleft sentences (Normal sentence: You lost all your credit cards and I found them. Cleft sentence for added emphasis: It was you who lost all your credit cards and it was me who found them).

Due to some complacency on my part, I misjudged how much time I had left before the exam to cover the last bit of a chapter. What looked like only a page in the book was actually packed with grammar--far more than could comfortably fit into an hour and half, if I meandered through the material like I normally like to. Oops.

Tonight was going to require some significant hand-holding to get my students through the thicket of cleft sentences without them losing confidence in themselves or me before the review session next class. When I could feel that the triage task was beyond my capacity, I asked for help.

After admitting my error to my boss, and being reprimanded mildly, he sat me down and gave me a quick and dirty run through of cleft sentences, outlining what I needed to cover in my lesson. I ran through my presentation with him to get feedback and suggestions.

It's awkward giving a fake lesson to my Director of Studies. Much easier is performing in front of my students--and teaching is a performance of sorts. Especially with something difficult and obscure, each sentence needs to be contextualized so that they understand why the hell people would even say something like "What I really feel like is a nice hot bath," or "It was you who slept through the play," in the first place.

Anyway, it was one of those lessons where I flawlessly completed my juggling routine in front of my businessmen (though there are now three women in the class, it still has a very serious, professional, mature vibe which unnerves me if I think too much about how 9 legitimate adults are looking to a 23 year old to explain a giant mess). I left class positively elated.

Light at the end of the tunnel:
My own level of confidence plays a huge role in their trust in me. I'm horrible at bullshitting this confidence but it is coming with almost six months of teaching English at every level. My ability to explain obscure grammar points on the spot is growing. I feel butch.

In a couple of months I will know how to teach two consecutive years of English. There's going to be more than one celebratory drink at the end of that day.

Cleft sentence fun
Rearrange the words to make cleft sentences. The first word is bolded.

1. grandmother -- gave -- was -- who -- awful -- It -- that -- my -- me -- picture
2. like -- hot -- What -- a -- bath -- feel -- is -- nice -- I -- really
3. It -- crashed -- me -- car -- who -- the -- wasn't
4. designs -- I've -- are -- latest -- got -- our -- What -- here
5. who -- play -- through -- It -- slept -- the -- was -- all -- you
6. who -- was -- 1998 -- It -- won -- World Cup -- France -- the -- in
7. about -- impressed -- was -- enthusiasm -- me -- his -- What -- Sam

Staying Alive, Staying Alive

Teaching—Black Like My Soul
Ugh teaching is brutal! I got complaints from my Pre-Int class a couple weeks in a row—they thought I was doing an unsatisfactory job presenting grammar, but then they all scored amazingly well on the exam they had just taken. Despite the good results, my class was observed today to try to identify and remedy my perceived shortcomings. BUT! According to the Rules of the Universe, this means that a mediocre lesson became worse—imagine a glowering, Director of Studies looming like a white elephant in the corner of the room—only instead of being white, he was clad entirely in black and therefore incredibly, incredibly intimidating. Sort of like the Grim Reaper of Lesson Failure.

My students clammed up and kept sneaking looks at the DoS out of the corner of their eye. As a result, my energy plummeted, and from there, the lesson just slid into an abyss. But wouldn’t you know it, as soon as my DoS left, students perked up and we were able to have a good time again. *shakes fist angrily at the god of irony* It’s ok, though. I’m being melodramatic. Well, sort of. Truthfully, I’m learning to climb out of failure relatively quickly. I have to. I have too many lessons to teach to sit around feeling like a reject.

Teaching in a language school is challenging because, especially with the economy going bezerk and students wanting their money’s worth, there’s so much stress to get it right. Constantly. I’m working my ass off, and it only seems to get me so far. Though I have nearly impeccable rapport with my students, I think that my age has ended up being part of the reason that this one class has questioned my authority. *sigh sigh sigh*

Another One Bites the Dust
A combination of factors (long hours, poor food selection in Izmir, crap wage, being the only young guy, etc, etc) has led George has to quit and go back to The Island. Come December or January, Sondra and I will be inhabiting our flat all by our lonesomes. Of course, George must be replaced by a new teacher, but hopefully whoever it is won’t live with us. One guy being interviewed right now already lives in Izmir and has a flat—and an unlikable smoking habit. This means that my food and travel companion is disappearing. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I clearly need to make friends.

Holiday. Just in the nick of time.
In a couple weeks all the teachers get off four days for holiday. George and I are going to Kapadokya. We have our bus tickets. We’re leaving at night on Sunday December 7th and arriving Monday morning. We’ll explore the vast and wonderful world of Kapadokya until Thursday night when we’ll get on another bus and be whisked back to Izmir in time to teach classes Friday afternoon. A little risky, I know, especially considering the snow, but it’s our one opportunity to actually get far enough away from Izmir, and we’re taking it. I don’t care if I’m dead on my feet from exhaustion. I will see something beautiful and awe-inspiring.

Ben Türkçe ögrenmek istiyorum! (I want to learn Turkish!)
I have begun studying Turkish. One of the teachers at school, Nigel, has lived in Izmir for almost 15 years and has a substantial social network. When we were out getting beers a couple weeks ago, I met one of his Turkish friends, Fahri (far-EE), whose English is quite good. I mentioned that I wanted to learn Turkish—seriously, not just enough to order something in a restaurant—and Fahri decided to become my teacher.

The lessons are essentially free, although I do provide him substantial opportunity to practice his English whilst regaling me with endless stories of cultural clashes on his business trips to China. He’s not particularly interested in Americans—I tried talking politics with him but the subject immediately went back to some anecdote about China—so I get a little bored during his monologues, but he is able to explain Turkish grammar. I can’t complain. Fahri also has REAL, AUTHENTIC Turkish friends, who invited me to their home, provided me with slippers to wear when I removed my shoes, served me wonderful tea, coffee, cookies, Turkish Delight, and more little biscuits.

In short, Turks are every bit as generous as I was led to believe, and then some.

I have managed to find some time at night to study Turkish over the past week. Flash cards with adjectives live in my jacket pocket and I study on my walk to work. I am actually learning words and try to practice with REAL, AUTHENTIC Turks whenever possible. It has become a Saturday ritual for us flatmates to eat dinner at the restaurant right outside the entrance to our flat. The owner Gazi (GAH-zee) is super generous, often giving us extra mezes (appetizers) and special deserts to nibble on. Some distant male family relations are his chefs and they consistently make us amazing food and try to talk with us. None of us can speak the other’s language particularly well—if grammar were acrobatics, we would all be falling on the mat, too crippled to get back up to the high beam. But we muddle through with lots of smiling and head nodding to gloss over the attempts to perform grammatical miracles.

Some days I think how it’s going to be a long year. On the other hand, I’ve already been here for over two months…

Obama Victory!

Obama Victory!
I was wandering through morning dream land before 7am when I rolled over and heard clapping and cheering coming from the TV. I leaped out of bed and ran to the living room. Streaming live to the world--the BBC's coverage of the American election. Obama had won. Already. I was so excited I hopped around the living room (Kenyans were hopping around their towns, too, in celebration--it's a global party!).

Then I sat on the couch and was enraptured by Obama's live acceptance speech to Chicago. I laughed when he made a shout-out to "all of you overseas, huddled around radios." Not quite... But I was ever so huddled, ever so stunned, ever, ever, ever so proud. My two favorite parts: 1) Obama telling his daughters that he loved them and that they had really earned the new puppy that was going with them to the White House; 2) when Biden's family came out and 90-year old Mama Biden stood on the stage with the "Oh my God, I can't fucking believe I'm here" look.

It is surreal to me, too, but for different reasons--this world is becoming smaller than it has been. Technology is so incredible. I've been following it for weeks on satellite TV and I watched the acceptance speech live thousands of miles from home. I logged onto Facebook soon after I found out the election results and probably 50 or 60 of my friends had updated their current status to say something about the fact that Obama had just won the presidency. The Internet and the youth vote are going to change the way politics happen in this country--they already have.

A lot of people are euphoric, perhaps too euphoric given the limitations of the wars, the global financial crisis, our own national debt, the climate crisis, and on and on. But... We'll see. We've got eight years.

Manifesting the Law
My students were better behaved last night than they have been. A few strategies:

• not being as friendly towards them at the beginning of the lesson;
  
• hovering in their space rather than towards the front of the classroom and standing closer to them when I told them not to speak Turkish whilst giving long, reprimanding stares;
• determining which students would work with each other to break up the perpetrators;
• hanging out with them during the 10 minute break (when they are allowed to speak Turkish) and allowing them to translate for each other as they asked me questions about America and my time in Turkey; upon returning to the classroom I said Turkish on break was fine but now it's back to English.

So we'll see how it goes. The chatty and flirtatious girl was out last night, so it's possible that my success was due to her absence... *sigh* Friday will be another battle.

Becoming the Law

Today will be eventful. I'm biting my nails about the American election. I plan on waking up tomorrow morning and watching CNN's constant election coverage with Sondra and George. But I have to finish the week first--which currently includes a battle between me and my Elementary students.

The six of them are becoming a pain in my ass. Of the two men in class, one of them is a fatherly policeman who often chatters in Turkish; the other is eye candy and is making ripples (I am pretty sure that my perception of flirting transcends the language barrier--this one girl sits next to him and bats her eyes and giggles in Turkish). The students had been speaking some Turkish, translating things I was saying in class. It hadn't really become a problem until last night when they got more disrespectful about it and laughter ensued--it's no longer acceptable but it's like trying to put out a fire that's already started. Tonight I'm dragging out the hose. Normally I jump around and act and make them laugh--anything to get the English across. I'm at war with my age, my gender, my friendliness, my inexperience at telling people what to do and exacting results.

I've got to dig around in my closet and find the Stern Bitch clothes that match my new attitude.

The Water's Heating Up Under My Kettle

Damn Youth
Next door to Posh English École is a bakery where I bought a poacha this morning. The woman behind the counter spoke a little English and asked me where I was from (Oh! America!), what did I do (Oh! Teacher!), how old I was (Oh! 25! [Yes, I am still lying. To everyone.]). She sullied my mood when she said sweetly, "But you look so young! Maybe 18!" It's hard to mutter that maybe I just seem so young because she's so old, when she's smiling hugely at me. So I just shrugged and said, "Thank you!"

Damn Classes
J is... busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest. This week is busy, busy.

I found out Friday that I have a new class starting on Monday--brand new, Elementary students so I'll be starting the first lesson with "Hi. My name's J. What's your name?" When I look at the textbook for the class, I experience mild panic. How do you communicate with people who have basically NO English skills? I haven't had to do that yet. All will be revealed tomorrow. At least I'll finally be getting paid for 15 hours a week. I might be able to afford a beer once in a while. :-P

Saturday morning I redeemed myself with my Pre Int class--the ones I screwed up teaching "but," "although," and "however" with last week. Yeah. I obviously know grammar--but explaining it in simple English when 16 eyes are watching my every move is challenging to say the least.

But THEN I found out Saturday that I had been placed on a surprise rota to cover for a teacher who had to go take care of her babies/sick mother somewhere in Turkey. I get paid for covering her class, which she had already planned. So I showed up to teach her Upper Intermediate class how to use the Future Perfect properly. *sigh* It was so half-assed. Honestly, it's such a pain to decipher someone's notes, stacks of photocopies, etc. I don't know how anyone could WANT to be a substitute teacher and put up with unenthusiastic students who are like, "When's so-and-so coming back? You're sure she's only out for one day?"

Hanging out with my own students is superior.

Damn Food Prices
Observed recently at a large chain store comparable to Walmart:

• Oats, 500g: 4YTL
• American Maple syrup, 8 ounces: 27YTL
• Smirnoff Vodka, 750mL: 50YTL

Donning floaty fins & paddling out of the tsunami

It wasn't quite so bad today as I thought it would be. I woke up super early and got to school as the sun was coming up over Izmir--it was a beautiful morning and put me in a good mood. Even though it's a long walk to work, I enjoy the time it gives me. Every time I walk it, I'm a little bit different. It's good to consider that.

My new class was a little bit awkward, and I was mildly frazzled, but it was certainly manageable. This class of 7 is mostly younger women--a couple musicians who want to be able to take cello lessons in Europe some day, some professionals there for the promotions attached to good English scores, students--and a couple older men.

I was annoyed when, as I continued to lie about being 25 to my students, some girl who looks 17 commented on how I looked more like 21. Thanks. I would chock it up to mistakenly saying the wrong number--kind of like I do when I'm trying to order in Turkish--but the girl had quite good speaking skills otherwise, so I would be lying to myself. *sigh* Maybe in a few years I can look 23. Before my class even started, one of the Turkish girls from the front office said something in her broken English about how she thought I was the youngest teacher at PEÉ. "Maybe youngest teacher ever? I think you only little older than me." Yes, yes. Are we done yet?!

Does anyone know where to buy wrinkles? It's hard enough finding dental floss in Turkey, so if you'd just mail the wrinkles in a care package, I'd really appreciate it.

Tomorrow will be smoother. I was able to spend all afternoon working on my lesson plan and I feel a lot more comfortable than I did this morning. The scheduling system is confusing so I'll elaborate. I'm only teaching two types of classes right now. They both meet for a total of 5 hours a week, but they meet on either three or two days. So the Saturday/Sunday class is a particularly gnarly block of time to plan for and get under control. I prefer the Monday/Tuesday/Friday class, although the downside to it is that my students arrive tired (business men still in their suits and ties) and are more susceptible to the mood swings of the five day work week.

Upcoming Mini-Vacation
The end of Ramadan is almost here which means two things: 1) no more sleep-disturbing drumming; and 2) the celebration, Bairam, which lasts the first three days of the Islamic month immediately following Ramadan--when Muslims visit their families. Us lucky fools at PEÉ get a 3-day weekend. Tuesday morning, a few of us are piling over to Kuşadası--a resort-type town a few hours south of Izmir. I've been too swamped to know much about the plans, but it's been agreed that we're doing it on the cheap--everyone's either just started teaching at PEÉ or has just come back from vacation, so the wallets are getting thin.

Part of me doesn't even want to go to Kuşadası because I know I'm going to be tired by then and could use the alone time, but it's my last (and only so far) opportunity to travel beyond Izmir before it gets blustery and cold. I'll just suck it up so I can see a different part of the Aegean. I can rest next weekend. Besides, maybe I'll start to get the hang of this teaching thing...

One Down... Hundreds to go...

I was so nervous for my first lesson tonight! Every classroom doesn't have it's own overhead projector and so we're supposed to set them up in advance to make sure there isn't a conflict of demand--and I accidentally grabbed one that another teacher needed, so that was a little awkward.

The worst moment by far was entering the classroom and facing that feeling of expectation and anxiety from the students--"Who is this new teacher?" But I smiled and muddled through my introduction (I did fib--to my students, I am 25 and have three years of prior experience teaching at language schools in San Francisco and Montreal). I only have five students, even though eleven are enrolled. Between Ramadan and the endless changes of teachers, we've probably lost a bunch along the way. Hopefully they will come on a regular basis, though. It's easier to teach more students than fewer because there is more energy and they can work with more partners and get more practice speaking.

But by the end of our two 45 minute lessons, they seemed to be having a good enough time. I announced that it was 9 o'clock and they looked at their watches like, "Oh--so it is!" I think one of them even said that the class had gone by quickly. Could I ask for more?!?! :-) It was a great note to start on. Hopefully tomorrow is half as good.