Our Class Funeral

I'm not really a fan of giving my students homework. For one, they have six other classes and six other classes worth of work and studying. Also, It's hard to assign homework for them for my speaking classes because some of them go into sheer panic mode if I ask them to speak in front of the class (or even in front of a group of three other people) if they don't have anything written down to use as a reference. 

Let me also mention that I have a rough time planning any or sort of activity for my English language teacher speaking classes for a number of reasons. First, I have fifty students in each class, and second, I consistently run into some sort of technology issue each week without fail. However, it appeared as though this week I have finally cracked whatever code that had previously existed and I had not one, but two near-perfect speaking classed tonight. 

There's a lot of backstory to this entire set of circumstances, so bear with me. I was able to plan a few weeks of activities in advance two weekends ago, and I decided to give this particular activity a go with my students. I had been given a similar assignment when I was in high school, and I really enjoyed it.

What was the assignment?

Write your own obituary. 

After explaining what an obituary was and explaining what they had to do last week, my students seemed somewhat interested. I told them to write, like, three to four paragraphs and make everything about their lives up until when they graduate from university true, and then make up the rest and make it as outrageous as possible.

I have to say, I have never been less disappointed with a group of students ever. There is this belief that because the Turkish education and instruction model has been so dependent on rote memorization and learning in the past, students today have difficulty being creative and thinking outside of the box (hope you appreciate that contradictory cliche). I don't know who is perpetuating this myth, or maybe I just got lucky, but my students are constantly outdoing themselves. And the best part? They're funny as all hell. 

So every student wrote their own obituary and read it in two or three different groups of four. After everyone in each group had read their obituary aloud, all four people casted a vote for their favorite; we did this a few times, just so everyone spoke as much as possible. After all of the rounds, I counted the votes and named six semi-finalists who read their papers in front of the entire class, and then another vote was taken. I can safely say that the first place winners in both classes won by a landslide of votes, but there were just so many outside bits that I heard while I walked around the room that I had to share them with you. If you don't find them funny... well, benim sorunum değil.

The winner in my first class of the night really surprised me with how well her obituary was written and how clever it was. To give you some context, she wrote about how she and her husband had moved to Italy, when he was subsequently diagnosed with cancer. What did they do to support their family in their time of hardship?

"So the could support their family to not let them starve, [she] and her husband sold drugs. But they were very good people."

So how did she die?

"Because of the drugs the Mafia got angry and [killed] her. She was a beautiful person. We will never forget you."

I happened to make a number of appearances in the obituaries in my second class; this also happens a lot when I have them write dialogues-- I get handed "my lines" just before they start. One student said that "while [he] was in university, he met Mary. She was a beautiful English teacher. Her sayings were really great for him and her classes were fun. She was very good."

I'm trying not think about what impact impending final exams had on this assignment. 

The şampiyon of the second class made me an absolutely pivotal part of his life story. Actually, the entire assignment was crucial to the development of his future life.

"His whole life was changed when he met Mary and she gave him this assignment. She said there was a prize for the winner, and [he] hoped to win very much. When he won he went to Mary's office to get the prize. 'What's the prize?' he said. 'I'll tell you!' she said. 'I am not a teacher, but a very famous writer. The prize is to go to New Jersie {admirable attempt!} and meet my friends.' [He] was so excited and he went to New Jersie to meet Mary's writer friends and met one friend named Rihanna. She was very beautiful and fell in love with [him]. They talked about her bestselling book Umbrella {so, to answer your question, yes, that Rihanna} she said, 'Will you marry me?' and he said. 'Let me think about it. Okay.'"

So how did this prolific writer meet his untimely end?

"They went on vacation where he was swimming and he met a mermaid who said, "Hello. Kiss me and you will be king of my world. But he kissed her and her lips were poison. So he died."

I also had one student, not a finalist, who lived in an alternative universe where he was stranded on a desert island until Tom Hanks' character from Cast Away was also stranded there and he felt as though it was just a little to crowded for his taste. 

Two girls wrote their obituaries in tandem regarding how they both married Charlie Sheen, who stayed with one of them on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays and the other on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays... I guess even Charlie Sheen deserves a day of rest. One of these ladies was famous for her red lipstick, the chemicals in which had built up over time and killed her. 

I got another laugh from a student who married the daughter of a wealthy Turkish businessman and was killed on a winter skiing holiday by an "ice stalactite." He meant icicle, but how much more badass does "ice stalactite" sound? I love mistranslations.

The real kicker of the night was one student who somehow ended up in jail in the United States (this actually happened a lot), but it was okay, because "he made lots of friends in prison, especially very large inmates." I don't think I have to explain all of the levels upon which that works.

Like I said, they were very creative and they're just so funny. I didn't mean for this to be so long, I just couldn't pick a favorite three, so I just kept on writing. It's because I'm a famous writer, if you didn't know.

So before you get even more bored, let me get my five things that I'm thankful for and my person I appreciate out of the way.

I'm thankful:

1. that I had the foresight to bring my own pillowcase from my own bed because it smells a little bit like my room still.

2. for chocolate, even though Turkish chocolate isn't are good as American-brand products... like m&ms. I have dreams about how much I miss m&ms. 

3. that other people get just as homesick as I do. Not that I'm thankful that they're homesick, I'm just thankful to have people to talk to that are going through the same thing. 

4. for Skype and Facebook and all of the other social media platforms that have kept me connected to everyone I love and miss at home.

5. for the fact that finals at Rowan are almost over and I'll finally be able to talk to people freely without feeling like I'm bothering them or distracting them.

6. for my ELT students, because despite how bad of a mood I might be in before there classes, I know I'll be guaranteed a few good laughs be the end of our time together. 

I appreciate:

My brother.

Again, backstory... From elementary school all of the way through high school, out mother made sure that we never had the same teachers so neither of us would be compared to the other. While we're very similar, we're also very different in many ways. And despite thirteen years of attending the same schools, we end up going to the same university and taking on the same majors. Before I talk about why I think my brother is really wonderful, I'd like to make like the third serious statement ever on this dumb blog. I knew that people would recognize Mikey as my brother when he got to Rowan, a) because "Spanarkel" isn't an all too common last name, and b) because we are each other gender opposites. And of course, he mentioned this to me... "Oh, so-and-so is in my whatever class and says hey... I was in the caf and someone asked me if we were related... Some kid was staring at me, he probably knows you."I didn't expect for him to tell me that people were doing a comparative analysis of our achievements and telling him he had big shoes to fill. I was really angry, because to those of you who would have the nerve to say that to someone, you don't know him. You don't know what he's achieved and what his successes include. Aside from being the greatest brother you could ask for, he is one of the funniest and smartest people I know. He's a stronger person than I can ever hope to be after everything's he's had to deal with before he was even legally allowed to vote. And I think it is a telling sign of his character that despite these nonsensical comparisons he is still proud of me. His pride in what I have done and what I am doing means more to me than the rest of the world combined. Does he irritate me to an ungodly level? Of course, he's my younger brother, that's what he's supposed to do. Do we fight? Like cats and dogs. Am I happy to know that he still values my opinion and comes to me for advice? More than you could ever know. And I'm so proud of him and I know that he'll achieve everything he wants in his own right and on his own time and I'm excited to support him all the way.

Keeping Perspective

I have a confession to make, my dear readers.

Living abroad away from home gets difficult sometimes. Sometimes you (read: I) get into funks over it… over the birthdays I’m missing, over the holidays I won’t spend with my family, over the time difference that prohibits me from talking to whom I want and when I want.

But, I think I’ve found a solution to this problem. In fact, I know I have, because I’ve been working on it for the past thirty-five minutes, and this could be the best I’ve felt in a while, aside from when I’m talking to loved ones from home. I guess I should probably backtrack.

While I was still at Rowan, a certain friend who will remain nameless (Charles Kuski) kept on telling me that I should create a StumbleUpon account. Always taking pleasure in doing the opposite of what Charles Kuski tells me to do, I blew him off and very pointedly did not make a Stumble account… until this summer, when my impending departure for Turkey made me want to do nothing in preparation for said departure. So I made this account and figured out how it worked and liked it. And then I got to Turkey and didn’t have internet for three months, so maybe of my online hobbies fell by the wayside. But now all is right in the world, now that I have internet (just kidding, we only have basic cable!), and I began to waste precious time that I used to use in a productive manner by surfing the web.

I think that’s the first time I’ve ever used the phrase “surfing the web.”

Anyways, I started re-Stumbling... or Stumbling again… or whatever. And I found this article that lists “60 small ways to improve all areas of your life in the next 100 days.” I’ll admit, I “favorite” a lot of these types of self-improvement websites; they get way more use than the fitness ones I bookmark, that’s for sure. So, I’m reading this article, and it’s great… de-cluttering all of the things I’ve collected in my Magnolia Hall-sized room would make me feel better… you know, these sorts of self-organization tips always come first, and they do have a lot of merit to them. (Cleaning makes me feel great.)

And I get in the Happiness section of the article is where I reach the first thing I just simply can’t do.

              Calling your best friend to chat.

And that’s where I got into this minor funk, at like, six-thirty in the morning. I keep reading, because I’m dedicated, thinking about how about how this stinking self-improvement articles are always written for people who are an the verge of a mid-life crisis or whatever and not struggling, frazzled, over living in a different country where they don’t know the language and blah, blah, blah. I get into such a self-pitying funk that I just completely skip over the Health and Relationship sections in their entirety. Finally, I get to the Social section, and for some reason, I am immediately embarrassed by my self-pitying funk. Who am I to feel so bad for myself? Literally, you guys, disgusted. I’ve been given this amazing privilege that thousands of people are denied each year, and I’m wasting it by being pissed off over the advice in a self-improvement article? One thousand percent embarrassed. I realized that one of the most wonderful things about this experience of being so painfully far away from home and my comfort zone is that it has made me appreciate everything and everyone I have in my life, and how dare I take all of that for granted. And that’s something I am very thankful for, but I don’t think just knowing what, and especially who, I appreciate is enough. It’s great that I feel that way, but people should know it. The people who I appreciate and love and care about should know, and everyone should know who they are; you should take time out of your day to acknowledge the things that make you happy.

So that’s how I’m going to better my life. (That, and yoga.) Every day (that I have access to the internet), I’m going to post, as per the advice in this article, five to ten things I am thankful for, as well as one person who I appreciate. Maybe that sounds a little self-righteous, but I’ll tell you something: on Mondays, I’m supposed to teach three hours of English. Well, no one comes to those classes anymore, so I spent three hours today writing about all of the things and people I am thankful for and I feel great. It’s more than that though—writing about the people you love just makes you love them so much more. And of course, it makes you miss them that much more… and it helps put things into perspective. Because there are things that I miss while I am here in Turkey, but there are things that are just so worth the wait to go home that, in a twisted way, it make me glad that I’m far away to recognize that.

Today I’m thankful for:

- this opportunity. So cheesy, but whatevs. Sometimes, you forget these sorts of things, and it’s a good to remind yourself every once in a while.
- for the fact that literally have no idea what I want to do with my life after this year… I think it keeps my ass in check and on the lookout for new things on the horizon.
- for the man that is supposedly changing out propane tank for our stove today so I can go back to making omelettes for breakfast (and lunch… and dinner).
- for the student who gives up his Mondays mornings to help me learn Turkish.
- for the advent calendar my aunt MADE me that brightens my mornings.
- for dress-up Crocs and how comfortable they are.

(I didn’t say these would be profound things I was thankful for.)

I appreciate:
(Bonus: because I have two parents, I’m writing about two people today because how could I write about one and not the other?)

My mother.

She really is the greatest. And I know everyone says that about their mother; you’re, like, contractually obligated to do so. But man, is she great. She’s always there for me and really is my biggest fan. When she helped me pack for Turkey, she included notes in all of the random and unnecessary toiletries we packed. And she helped me pack, even though sending me off to Turkey was the last thing she ever wanted to do. She is supportive of all of my decisions, because she feels as though I make good ones (most of the time), and she’s proud of me. I think that makes a big difference to people; it’s one thing for your parents to tell you they’re proud of you, it’s another thing to be able to feel their pride in you as their child. And you know what? Whenever someone tells my I look like my mother or I’m so much like my mother, it make me proud, because she is an extraordinary woman who has done extraordinary things and has dealt with far more than most people will ever have to deal with in there lives. I think sometimes it’s too much of a compliment, when people say these sorts of things, because she is a difficult role model to try and emulate, but goddamn, am I going to give it my best shot.

My father.

This guy. I can tell you right now that’s he’s already crying reading this, am I right? I have to admit, this summer I was a little irritated with my dad, because he kept on stealing my thunder—he literally told everyone in all of Monmouth County (possibly even New Jersey) that I had won a Fulbright scholarship. He told more people about it than I did, and if I mentioned to someone in front of him that I was going to teach English in Turkey for a year, he would interject, “Yeah, on a Fulbright scholarship! Did she tell you she’s on a Fulbright scholarship? It’s a real big deal. She’s a Fulbright scholar. Wait till people see that on her resume.” This is not an exaggeration. And as frustrating as it got, it only proved to me, again, how proud of me my parents are. Too proud, maybe, but still. I can’t begin to put into words how much appreciate his support when, like my mother, he was dreading the Sunday afternoon drive to Newark to drop me off for my flight. And we argue and we fight, but no one lets me take my anger out on them like my dad does. How can you find fault with someone who supports their child through thick and then? You can’t; that’s the epitome of what a good parent is.

So, that’s that. Helps me keep perspective, I guess. And it's lame but I'm okay with it.

My list of all the things that will be so worth my seven-month wait. 

Weekend Update!

Well, not of this weekend. But it's an update occurring on the weekend.

I've experienced some pretty interesting things in the past few weeks that really didn't have a place in any of the (read as: one) blog posts that I've written recently. I guess we can just call this a smorgasbord of mini Turkish adventures.

(Side-note: smorgasbord. What a great word!)

Okay, so on with the mini-adventures.

Mini-Adventure #1: First Trip to Kipa.

Oh my gosh, Kipa, you guys. It's like the best thing of all things. It's like Target, except none of the labels are in English, and there's only Turkish food, with the exception of one display case of all other ethnic food ingredients a Turk might need if they're going wild and trying to make tacos or teriyaki chicken. They had salad dressing. SALAD DRESSING. And SOY SAUCE. This was a big deal. Also, I bought Christmas lights, because Turks have something called New Years' trees. Can't wait for this experience.

Mini-Adventure #2: Whack Whack?
So, a few weeks ago, I had a student come into one of my Speaking Skills classes early to ask me about slang. As in, to teach him slang. On the spot. Right then and there. So, in my prime Rowan form, I try and do a little pre-assessment to figure out what he knows. He starts going on about all the different words for money he knows, and he actually knows a lot of them; I was impressed.

So he asked for more slang vocabulary, and the only thing I could think of was the word jawn.

I mean, who isn't familiar with this West Philadelphian? 

I'm sure you can predict that this didn't go over too well. I think "jawn" is just too vague of a topic. So building of this Fresh Prince foundation, I decide to go with "whack," as in "That's whack." (Side-note: Did you know there's a debate regarding the proper spelling of whack/wack?" Hmm.)

The following is the dialogue that occurs between the two of us.
(Side-note: Let me emphasize that this is in no meant to make my student look stupid. He's actually one of the smartest students in my class.)

Me: Okay, so this is a pretty popular phrase: "That's whack." Have you heard it before?
Student: "'That's whack?'"
Me: Yeah. It means, like, "That's really bad."
Student: "Whack."
Me: Yes.
Student: Like "whack whack?"
Me: Like what now?
Student: Like whack whack. Whack whack.
Me: I don't think I understand.
Student proceeds to pick up a dry-erase marker and draw on the board.
Me: ... Is that a duck?
Student: Yes! A duck. Duck says, "whack whack."

Whack whack. Quack quack.
This is cross-cultural exchange at its finest, boys and girls.

Mini-Adventure #3: Thanksgiving!
Over Thanksgiving weekend, Team Balıkesir visited our good friends in Yalova for some good old bonding over American traditions. I won't lie to you, dear readers, being away from home for Thanksgiving was difficult, so I'm not going to dwell on it. It did make me so very thankful for my family and friends that I am missing and the new friends that I've made.


So anyways, here's our spread!

It was extra delicious.

... and the lovely crew I got to celebrate with!

Top row: Margot, new friend Fırat, Russell, and Greg.
Bottom row: Annika, new friend Deven, yours truly, Shannon, and new friend Imge.

So, it was the best Thanksgiving I could have imagined four thousand miles away from home.


Mini-Adventure #4: Internet in Our Apartment!
Anyone who has tried to get into contact with me within the last three months is well aware of this challenge. But the solution has been found... life is good. All that jazz.


I felt like I had more adventures to tell you about... but I guess I don't... for now. 

Istanbul 2.0

Wow, you guys! It's been forever!

You've probably been wondering, "Gahhh, what's Mary doing?! She hasn't updated her blog in forever!"

Just kidding, you're probably not wondering that. But I'll tell you what: you are in for a whirlwind adventure of multiple blog posts, man! So let's get on with it!

I guess... about three weeks ago (just after bayram), Team Balıkesir took a trip to Istanbul for the weekend. We stayed in Taksim this time around, in the Chillout Cengo Hostel. It was pretty nice, I'd recommend it if you're coming this way. We had plans to meet up with a few other friends on our finish night there, but first we headed over to Galata Tower, which I know I've mentioned before. However, this trip to Galata Tower was a little different from the first time around.

We went to the top of the Galata Tower! We also proceeded to walk around the top in the opposite direction, completely disregarding the signs that told us to do otherwise. Because we're American and that's we we do. Obviously.

Anyways, it was a real sight.

I even took a fancy picture.

Picture: fancy.

And look at these guys! You can just tell they're BFFs.

Pictured: BFFs.

 Finally, we met our friends for dinner at a pide place. I think I've mentioned pide before... it's like pointy-oval-shaped pizza, but with no sauce and cheese is optional. I mean it's made of bread so it's delicious. While we were eating, we made some new friends as well... and I'll have you know that my Turkish is now good enough to communicate to them that I wanted to take a picture with them.

Ya know, just clowning around.
(This caption was planned from the
moment the flash went off.)

The five of us went to some random bar off of Istiklal, where all of a sudden the barmen began putting this afro on everyone's head. I just kept on having flashes of everyone getting head lice.

But it's a great look for some of us.

The following day, we went to Istanbul Modern, the museum of modern art in Istanbul. Typically, I'm not one for art museums, but what the heck. Why not. And it was great. There were actually Ottoman artists that painted in the Impressionist style... actually, there is a school of Ottoman and Turkish artists  for nearly every major art period you learn about in school. Just one more way that the Ottoman Empire is excluded from the American social studies curriculum. But hey, that's just me.

Unfortunately, we couldn't take pictures inside, so I was forced to write the names of the artists and pieces I really liked on the back of a Garanti bank withdrawal receipt, which I promptly lost like thirty-six seconds later.

It was an all around cool place, Istanbul Modern. And after we left, we watched a little bit of sunset...

... and discovered that the Turks have Winnebagos too! Really excited, if you ask me.

The next day, Russell, Greg, and I went to Dolmabahçe Palace. It was built by the Ottomans as their empire was fairly close to collapsing as an attempt to seem more Westernized when hosting European diplomats. Ataturk lived and even died here. It's so big that touring the entire building would take you six hours. It's gilded with fourteen tons of gold throughout all 285 rooms and 45,000 square meters. Oh, it also contains the largest chandelier in the world, weighing in at a petite 40 tons.

Are you getting the picture? This place is literally enormous. Like, I think it should just be the definition of the word enormous. Everything about it screams "go big or go home."

Unfortunately, you can't take pictures inside of the palace itself. It's literally a jaw-dropping experience. I swear. My jaw actually dropped like three times.

"I said, 'Stay off the grass!'"

I think the most interesting thing about walking around Dolmabahçe Palace is the fact that it's so Westernized in its style and its outward appearance, but it style contains classic Ottoman staples, like numerous hamams and a harem. It just seems like a confused little building to me.

Also, "bahçe" means "garden" in Turkish, while "dolma" means "filled." It's a pretty fitting name a) because the site where Dolmabahçe was constructed was originally supposed to be an imperial garden, and b) its actual gardens are beautiful.

They even have a bird garden, complete with a number of peacocks. 

So, yeah. Dolmabahçe. Really awesome. Definitely worth the outrageous 40 TL entry fee.