Aside from one early post about my pre-first day panics, this blog has thus far been pretty darn devoid of stuff about, ya know, teaching. Well, no more, arkadaşlarım!
This here page is dedicated to the moments that fill my life with
fun, befuddlement, madness, stress, and hilarity on the daily.
This here page is dedicated to the moments that fill my life with
fun, befuddlement, madness, stress, and hilarity on the daily.
Welcome to the Hoca Chronic-cles of Türkiye.
(I lived with three bros once upon a time, gimme a break.)
hoca (pronounced: ho-juh)
is a term for ‘teacher’. Though there are many nouns in Turkish for different types of teachers, hocam (my teacher) is the spoken title given to a teacher of any kind. Sort of like Sir, Ma’am, or Doctor, Hocam is a universal pronoun that folks may use to address someone who is a teacher even if they are not that person’s student. Hoca (and its many languaged cognates) is also a title of respect in these parts of the world for folks who have done the hajj or have otherwise earned the right to insight Muslim spiritual wisdom. I am not doing that.
From a student presentation on "Causes of Death" (self-selected topics)
"Murder is a common cause of death."
"There are various disease in the world. The majority of them are mortal."
(BTDubs, delivered by a 90 lb girl with big eyes and bangs)
On things that remind you of the spring season:
"Cats..." *classwide giggles* "Cats, erm, relationships."
Some gems I couldn't help scribbling down during this week’s “describe a ceremony” task:
"First we send out invasion cards.”
“[At graduation] each student is given a diplomat.”
“We cut the cake. The bride and groom eat each other.”
The day before a wedding: “Generally men are drinking a lot and women cry.” (So much to that one.)
Then there was the kid who came to class halfway through and gave me a confidently articulated speech on the principles of Islam. (Come. To. The. First. Hour. Ya. Bum.)
Hell, I was just stoked on that use of “reflect.” Niiceeuhh!
(On an oral assessment day) “Teacher, you are looking very nice today. I hope that will...erm...[group translation mutters]...reflect my assessment grade.”
A Hey-Hey-Good-Lookin’ Day
A Hey-Hey-Good-Lookin’ Day
Tuesday afternoon kiddo (who I adore): “Your hair? Is it natural? Wow! So nice. We do not have in Turkey. Some ladies have blonde hair, but it is not like THAT.”
Tuesday night med faculty member: “Yes, I have a question Why you decide your fingers those colors?”
Me: “I don’t know, I just love the color!” [proceed to dramatically pull my coordinating (yep, you guessed it) turquoise scarf out of my bag and fling it around my neck]
(Oh boy, I won ‘em over with that! English turquoise=turkuaz. It comes from TURKEY*, y’all! Man, I was meant for this place. )
(Oh boy, I won ‘em over with that! English turquoise=turkuaz. It comes from TURKEY*, y’all! Man, I was meant for this place. )
*This is indeed yet another example of Western European cultures (AKA mostly just the French who relinquished so many words to English) adopting “turk-” to indicate something that originated east-hence. (See my earlier grossly under-verified theories about How Turkey Got Its Name.) Apparently most of the best turquoise comes from Iran and Tibet but made its way (back in the day) from Persia to France via Turkey.
A Realization
It’s sort of absurdly inconvenient that the sound of the word 'violence so closely resembles 'violins'. Makes the question, “What is your opinion about violence on television?” unexpectedly but justifiably confusing.
Turks Have a Rough Time with “V”s
As a result, I never get tired of hearing about “wehicles” or “wowels” from highly educated colleagues and academics. Today during an assessment role-play about buying movie tickets, I got “Wee for Vendetta.” (He’s a smart kid who totally got it spot-on with the second word, but the first one was enough to make it absolutely adorably funny.)
I am inexplicably intrigued by what the class before mine was doing
In case you can’t read it:
2 categories: Chatterbox & Butterflies (why...?)
2 things that appear to be alike but are NOT the same--apparently: Kettle & Cattle (ahh haa)
2 categories: Chatterbox & Butterflies (why...?)
2 things that appear to be alike but are NOT the same--apparently: Kettle & Cattle (ahh haa)
Tonight my students corrected my misspelling of ‘phlegm’.
I teach faculty members of my university’s medical school on Tuesday nights. (Explains how we got to this vocab gem during a lesson about describing general health and simple illnesses.) They may not be familiar with the definition of ‘painkiller’ but I’ll be damned if they let my ignorance of such an important medical matter (heyo!) slip by unnoticed. Now I know--and I likely will never forget.
To be fair, my speech impaired kid is obnoxious as heck. But still.
Trying to get my student to pronounce "The Ring" (Halloween lesson) correctly when another student says, "Teacher, he cannot say 'r's--in all languages!" Who's a jerkface? This hoca.
"Thank you...?"
Student: "Teacher, you are very beautiful and lonely."
Me: "Uhh, I think you mean 'lovely'."
Student: "No, lonely."
Me: "...okaaay."
Moment you realize you're not quite out of the woods like you thought:
3 weeks into classes and one of the better students in class asks, "Teacher, what is 'describe'?"
One Outrageous Pupil in Three Acts
I
Me (to my student): You look a lot like my friend in the U.S. He is Greek.
Turkish student A (later): Your friend, the Greek one. He is handsome?
Me: Yes. (To myself: And a naughty little SOB like you.)
To be fair, my speech impaired kid is obnoxious as heck. But still.
Trying to get my student to pronounce "The Ring" (Halloween lesson) correctly when another student says, "Teacher, he cannot say 'r's--in all languages!" Who's a jerkface? This hoca.
"Thank you...?"
Student: "Teacher, you are very beautiful and lonely."
Me: "Uhh, I think you mean 'lovely'."
Student: "No, lonely."
Me: "...okaaay."
Moment you realize you're not quite out of the woods like you thought:
3 weeks into classes and one of the better students in class asks, "Teacher, what is 'describe'?"
One Outrageous Pupil in Three Acts
I
Me (to my student): You look a lot like my friend in the U.S. He is Greek.
Turkish student A (later): Your friend, the Greek one. He is handsome?
Me: Yes. (To myself: And a naughty little SOB like you.)
II
Turkish student A: Teacher! It is only 2 of us in class today!
Me: Why? Where is your class?!
Turkish student B: There is exam tomorrow. They are study.
Me: Why are you not studying?
Turkish student B: I have 53 absent hours.
Me: Ahh ha--I see.
Turkish student A: I you like. (A syntactically challenged charmer, eh?)
[The three of us proceed to have a mini-lesson over tea at a campus cafe because I don't have the heart to cancel class and have 'em lose more attendance points, but I'm a university instructor dammit and I've got to maintain some semblance of seriousness around here.]
III
Turkish student B: Teacher, we have an interview now.
Me (figuring he means 'appointment'): Okay, class is over. Good luck on your exam tomorrow!
Turkish student A: Thank you for the lesson teacher! Now we will go drink coffee and gamble!
**By this point I was quite sure that DMO, my Greek friend from university who Student A resembles, followed me to Turkey with his most trusty accomplice President Henderson in tow.
No comments:
Post a Comment