I have been teaching at Cag University for three years now and upon arriving my first year, there were a few things about the school that shocked me. Okay, let's not say a few things; let's say many things. Many things about this particular Turkish, private university shocked me. Things such as not bringing a pencil, dictionary, notebook, or course book to class; respecting the teacher; respecting other students; commonplace cheating; these things still shock me at a university level. Sadly I'm learning to accept these things, and in time I'm learning how to deal with each one individually. But there is one that frustrates me to no end.
The amount of time students are allowed to skip in a year is ghastly. During their prep year at Cag, my students are allowed to skip 100 hours of classes. 100 HOURS! What a great help for those students who maybe get a terminal illness during the school year, but besides terminal illness, my American audience might wonder how a student could possibly skip that much time. Here's the shocking part. In two years, most of my students skip their allotted amount of time, usually up to 95-99 hours. I've had students at 90 hours by the semester break, and I have had at least ten students fail the prep year because they skipped more than 100 hours.
Coming from an American university, this is seriously unbelievable. My Turkish sister-in-law, who I would imagine was an excellent student who really cared about her classes, told me tonight that every year, she would skip as many hours as she was allowed! I can honestly say that in my four years at Bethel, I possibly skipped ten hours. Possibly. If I did, it would have been because of pretty serious illness. For the most part, I really enjoyed my classes and professors, and I really hated getting behind and missing class. I've told this to Turkish friends before, but they find it unbelievable. As incredible it is to me that they can skip 100 hours in a year, so is it incredible to them that I only skipped ten hours in four years.
This is just one example of a university cultural difference that I have been dealing with and trying to understand for the last two years. I have found my own ways of dealing with skipping, but it's still a hard mentality for me to grasp.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Being a bad friend, Turkish style
Today I experienced two culture clashes that were so strange and uncomfortable when I first arrived to Turkey. Usually these clashes are revolving around a tendency of Turks to be very blunt. For the most part, I am generally able to gracefully take what my friends dish. Today, however, due to my responses in each of the following situations, I realized that I should probably deal with the question of culture clashes and how I will respond to them.
I would like to preface the first situation by saying that to Americans, it is very strange to comment on a negative aspect of a friend's appearance. I have had many conversations about this with my Turkish friends and coworkers. In Turkey, however, it is very normal. "Laura, how many kilos are you?...Don't you wash your face everyday?...Your friend is ugly...You got fat...What's that thing on your face? Is it a zit?..." I could go on and on, but the last example is what I would like to focus on today.
I have a zit. And its big. In America, I would worry about people seeing it, but never commenting on it. Today, however, there were three conversations that went somewhat like this: "Laura what's that thing on your face?" (Blank stare from me.) "Is it a zit? Did you pick it?" (More blank stare.) "You shouldn't pick them. It makes them bigger." (Blank stare accompanied by a scowl.) After the last conversation, I walked away fuming. Does no one in this country ever get zits? Why does it seem they always comment on mine?
A little while later, it was my friend's 27th birthday. She's a girl full of life and energy; someone who I really, truly enjoy being around. We had cake and some food and we were sitting around chatting. "Maybe I'll get married this year," my friend said. "Ah, what do you need that for?" I asked. "I'm 27! I'm getting old!" she replied. I shrugged my shoulders. "Evde kaldin." I said. This pretty much means, "Well, you're the girl whose still at home with her parents, who will continue living with her parents because you're too old to find someone now." I have always found this expression heartless and cruel, especially for the person to whom it is directed. Even if said in the right situation and everyone laughs, its still downright mean. And today I found myself saying it. My friend said, "Yea, I guess you're right." Then I spent the next few minutes feeling horrible and wishing I hadn't said it. (If you're reading this, accept this as another apology.) :)
Thinking about these instances, I've realized that my reactions to the two situations were 1) being so offended about my zit and pissed off at the culture that I had to retreat to my office; and 2) taking advantage of the culture, saying what I think, at the risk of one of my best friends. Sad, right?!? I definitely still haven't found a balance of being okay with bluntness directed towards me, while still being sensitive myself. Hopefully soon I will find such a balance.
I would like to preface the first situation by saying that to Americans, it is very strange to comment on a negative aspect of a friend's appearance. I have had many conversations about this with my Turkish friends and coworkers. In Turkey, however, it is very normal. "Laura, how many kilos are you?...Don't you wash your face everyday?...Your friend is ugly...You got fat...What's that thing on your face? Is it a zit?..." I could go on and on, but the last example is what I would like to focus on today.
I have a zit. And its big. In America, I would worry about people seeing it, but never commenting on it. Today, however, there were three conversations that went somewhat like this: "Laura what's that thing on your face?" (Blank stare from me.) "Is it a zit? Did you pick it?" (More blank stare.) "You shouldn't pick them. It makes them bigger." (Blank stare accompanied by a scowl.) After the last conversation, I walked away fuming. Does no one in this country ever get zits? Why does it seem they always comment on mine?
A little while later, it was my friend's 27th birthday. She's a girl full of life and energy; someone who I really, truly enjoy being around. We had cake and some food and we were sitting around chatting. "Maybe I'll get married this year," my friend said. "Ah, what do you need that for?" I asked. "I'm 27! I'm getting old!" she replied. I shrugged my shoulders. "Evde kaldin." I said. This pretty much means, "Well, you're the girl whose still at home with her parents, who will continue living with her parents because you're too old to find someone now." I have always found this expression heartless and cruel, especially for the person to whom it is directed. Even if said in the right situation and everyone laughs, its still downright mean. And today I found myself saying it. My friend said, "Yea, I guess you're right." Then I spent the next few minutes feeling horrible and wishing I hadn't said it. (If you're reading this, accept this as another apology.) :)
Thinking about these instances, I've realized that my reactions to the two situations were 1) being so offended about my zit and pissed off at the culture that I had to retreat to my office; and 2) taking advantage of the culture, saying what I think, at the risk of one of my best friends. Sad, right?!? I definitely still haven't found a balance of being okay with bluntness directed towards me, while still being sensitive myself. Hopefully soon I will find such a balance.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
A funny thing happened on the way home from school...
Yesterday, for the first time in my three years at Cag University, I took the wrong service bus home. Because Cag is so far from Tarsus, Mersin and Adana, the service buses travel all over the cities dropping students off near their homes. My friend Annie and I asked the bus drivers for the bus to our neighborhood, and he said, "The first green bus." We got on the first green bus with no questions.
This was also the day in which I was starting a private lesson at a language school in Adana. If all went well bus-wise, I'd have about 8 minutes to get settled at the school before my student arrived. It wasn't until the driver turned on a freeway headed to the far north part of town that we said, "Uh, where are we going?" "Suleyman Demirel," the driver answered. This neighborhood is a good 40 minutes from where we need to go. Ugh! We got off the bus near a bus route that we recognized and continued on our way to our neighborhood. I called the language school and told them I'd be late.
It was on the minibus to our neighborhood that a very interesting thing happened. There was a mother with two children, maybe 2 and 8, sitting in front of Annie and me. As I was watching them, I thought all of the American out-in-public norms this family broke, things that are completely appropriate in Turkey. It started with the 8-year-old walking up and down the aisles of the moving bus entertaining herself; then the 2-year-old crawling all over the seat completely unrestrained (also in the moving bus); the mother carelessly watching out the window, sometime reprimanding (usually with a click of her tongue) but most of the time giving freedom to her children. I guess the strange thing for me was that I often trip and fall on moving buses. I know multiple people who have been injured on buses from unexpected turns, sharp stops, etc. Surely this mother is aware of these things, she just trusted that her children would be fine.
The moment I won't forget is the 8-year-old walking to the open window of the bus and shamelessly throwing her wrapper out the window. I said to Annie, "I can't believe that just happened!" To which Annie replied, "You can't? I can!" We both laughed. Throwing garbage out a window is something I've been trained not to do for as long as I can remember! Maybe someday, that message will reach Turkey.
Annie and I finally made it to our neighborhood, I was a half-hour late for my lesson, but so was my student. We had an entertaining bus ride, and saw a different part of town. I can say I learned from the experience, though. I was definitely much more careful today to get on the right bus to come home!
This was also the day in which I was starting a private lesson at a language school in Adana. If all went well bus-wise, I'd have about 8 minutes to get settled at the school before my student arrived. It wasn't until the driver turned on a freeway headed to the far north part of town that we said, "Uh, where are we going?" "Suleyman Demirel," the driver answered. This neighborhood is a good 40 minutes from where we need to go. Ugh! We got off the bus near a bus route that we recognized and continued on our way to our neighborhood. I called the language school and told them I'd be late.
It was on the minibus to our neighborhood that a very interesting thing happened. There was a mother with two children, maybe 2 and 8, sitting in front of Annie and me. As I was watching them, I thought all of the American out-in-public norms this family broke, things that are completely appropriate in Turkey. It started with the 8-year-old walking up and down the aisles of the moving bus entertaining herself; then the 2-year-old crawling all over the seat completely unrestrained (also in the moving bus); the mother carelessly watching out the window, sometime reprimanding (usually with a click of her tongue) but most of the time giving freedom to her children. I guess the strange thing for me was that I often trip and fall on moving buses. I know multiple people who have been injured on buses from unexpected turns, sharp stops, etc. Surely this mother is aware of these things, she just trusted that her children would be fine.
The moment I won't forget is the 8-year-old walking to the open window of the bus and shamelessly throwing her wrapper out the window. I said to Annie, "I can't believe that just happened!" To which Annie replied, "You can't? I can!" We both laughed. Throwing garbage out a window is something I've been trained not to do for as long as I can remember! Maybe someday, that message will reach Turkey.
Annie and I finally made it to our neighborhood, I was a half-hour late for my lesson, but so was my student. We had an entertaining bus ride, and saw a different part of town. I can say I learned from the experience, though. I was definitely much more careful today to get on the right bus to come home!
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