I started out teaching English to teenagers and young adults in Izmir. I enjoyed it, but the hours were erratic and the pay wasn't great. I got offered a chance to teach at a preschool, regular hours, cute kids and higher salary. That's what I want to share today.
I just ended the most beautiful and most difficult job of my life. For four months, I taught ESL to 3 and 4 year old Turkish children. I absolutely loved the experience of getting to know these little bundles of energy and love. Even on bad days, the hugs and kisses and little signs of appreciation made me so happy. I want to share a candid account of my experience at this school.
The school in which I taught English was the most expensive preschool in Izmir. It is psychology based and has a different approach to teaching than the other schools in the area. I do not have a degree in early childhood education nor psychology. My only credentials were that I am a native speaker and I love children. I knew it would be a difficult job, but I had no idea how difficult.
I had four classes of about 15 students each and a 9 hour workday with one 15 minute break. they gave me a weekly curriculum to follow that included everything the kids were supposed to learn that week. Because most of the kids knew zero English, this was pretty laughable. Each class had one main homeroom teacher, and helpers would float between classes. None of these teachers spoke English, and I wasn't allowed to use the little Turkish I know in front of the students. So, it was a bit crazy. The age of the students being what it was, they didn't have great attention spans and they are still trying to learn their own language. Here I am, this foreigner that no one understands, coming into the class and trying to teach what I would have slight problems teaching to kids who know English already. I went back and forth between trying to make them learn, and just playing with them and bonding. Obviously, the kids that loved me learned the most. When you have 15 three year olds in a room together, it's pretty hard to get them to focus. One of my classes consisted of 5 or 6 kids running around, screaming and hitting each other, a few introverts hiding, and the remaining few able to listen to me. The teaching consisted mainly of playing and singing, which I love.
My favourite students were the ones who ran to kiss and hug me in the morning, and the troubled ones. There was one boy in particular that I grew close with. He came from an abusive home and was violent with me and his fellow students. Sometimes, he would hit me or even stab me with a pencil. I would react with patience and love, not anger. I knew he was just reacting on impulse. A few minutes later, he would come hug me and say, "I love you, teacher."
I also had a few students who by the end of our time together, fully understood that I didn't speak Turkish and would translate to me and the other students when necessary. Cemre was a serious, intelligent 4 year old who loved to help in this capacity. One day, we were listening to classical music and a sullen boy suddenly got angry and pouty and said some angry Turkish words to me. I said, "Cemre, Deniz angry. Why?" She scrunched up her sweet face, thought for a minute, and replied, "Deniz, music, no!" She and I were both so proud and excited. I loved these communication breakthroughs. There were great rewards with this job. Teaching is a privilege. You really get to shape people's lives. Now, I'll get into the messy, administrative side of things.
There were two Americans and one Turkish woman teaching English at the school. The Turkish woman knew enough English to teach the kids, but not enough to keep my fellow American and I filled in on what was going on and what we needed to do. There was a new manager when I started, and she could speak a little bit. How did this work? Well, it didn't really. We were constantly in the dark about the events or special days at the school. The rest of the staff was connected by a WhatsApp group, which they suggested we join. But, we couldn't understand it anyway, so I didn't join. There was a lot of miscommunication and non-communication. Because of the wealth of the families and the prestige of the school, there were a lot of exceptional demands on the staff and teachers. In general, the Turkish teachers resented the English teachers. They thought we had it easy. We were paid more and had shorter hours. We didn't have to deal with the parents too much. These are valid points, but we had our own hardships. Not having our own classroom, being responsible for teaching four classes, and being isolated because of the language barrier and resentment were some of the issues. I went back every day for four months, dreading it but thinking of the lovely children. I reached a breaking point finally when there were just too many ridiculous demands. Because of the high unemployment rate in Turkey, the workforce puts up with a lot of things that I as an American, was taught is too much. They feel trapped in their jobs, and even with too many demands on time, and not great pay, they stay. This creates the toxic work environments that I have seen. In a preschool setting, this type of work life is more absurd to me. Kids pick up on everything and the teachers were miserable. So, I left. I still miss the kids. Though I only have a few possessions with me, I brought a few of the drawings they had given me.
I'm curious to hear about teaching in other countries. Do you have any insight?
This is a great post. So insightful and raw. That sounds like an incredibly challenging but rewarding experience. You have such a beautiful sensitivity to react to a a child from an abusive home in such a tender way. Thank you for sharing.
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