The Mother Clucker

Some people just like to ruffle feathers.  I get that.  Not me though.  I’m definitely a “keep it cool” kind of gal but every once in a while I am pushed just that little bit too far and then BAM! feathers are flying like there is a fox running amock in the henhouse.  When these BAM! moments do happen I believe they are moments that should be captured for future generations to study and enjoy (even if I do say so myself)!

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We recently changed Daughter’s school from the local village school to a private school in Mersin.  Although not the point of this story but changing schools in itself has caused a plethora of problems for us starting with the fact that Daughter now has a kimlik and her original yabancı number can no longer be used when dealing with Government departments.  Seems simple enough eh?  In fact shouldn’t it be an automatic update?  Perhaps, but it is Türkiye so it did prove to be three times more difficult that it needs be.  The Turk has spent the past two weeks getting her ID number changed which encompassed 2 trips to the village school, 4 trips to the özel school, 3 trips to the Nufus and one set of paperwork to Ankara!  And even today Daughter’s information is still wrong as it still shows that she has been absent for the first 10 days of school!  Ugh!

But that is not the BAM! moment.  This is the BAM! moment.

I went to a Parent/Teacher Meet and Greet recently at the new school.  This means that all the parents sit at his or her child’s desks and each teacher comes into the room and spends 10 minutes introducing themselves and giving us a little bit of information about their lesson plans before we have a mingle and introduce ourselves.  Seems pretty simple right?

Wrong!

And let me tell you why it is not simple.  Let me tell you why these things always end in tears, or with a head on a stick.  It is because of that one particular parent and it doesnt matter whether you are living in Sydney or Mersin, there is always that one particular parent that sends you closer to the edge than you have ever been before.  That one particular parent that is now and shall be forevermore known as – The Mother Clucker.

The Mother Clucker is usually female and can be easily spotted when you enter a room.  She will be that one parent smiling brightly at the teacher from prime position, pen in hand ready to make notes.  There are different levels of Mother Cluckers too.  There is a lower level Mother Clucker who has not yet found her wings (so to speak) but what you really need to be fearful of is the top tier Mother Clucker.  These Mother Cluckers will have already made copious notes to discuss with each and every teacher and even before the Meet and Greet begins she can be heard cluck, cluck, clucking her important opinions to gain support from anyone who glances sideways at her.  She will, of course, volunteer to be the Class Parent and she will, no doubt, want to discuss every insignificant detail because even the little things are important too.

This year’s Mother Clucker was, once upon a time, a school teacher so obviously she knows how things should be done.  She has an opinion on every single subject and she wants her voice heard, in both Türkçe and English.  Cluck.  Cluck.  Cluck.  So what should have been a 1 hour Meet and Greet became a 2½ hour battle of wits between this obnoxious, know it all, top tier Mother Clucker and the poor teachers who, one at a time, were put through their paces, whether they wanted to be or not.

I sat throughout most of the cluck, cluck, clucking quietly.  A lot of it was in Türkçe so I was oblivious to her clucking but every now and then she would speak in English (teacher dependent), to show off her language skills no less.  I laughed once at the look on the poor Music teacher’s face when the Mother Clucker explained that her child did not want to play the particular instrument that he was assigned (well either does my kid lady but shut the feck up!).  I rolled my eyes when she wanted to discuss how Din (religious studies) should be taught (Daughter will no doubt dramatically fail that subject again this year too) but I had to step up when she started having an opinion on how English should be taught.

Here’s how it went down –

Mother Clucker:  You need to teach the children songs.  Like Old Mcdonald Had a Farm.  I was taught Old McDonald Had a Farm.

Me:  (Cackle)

English Teacher:  (American accent) We have a great program laid out but no I do not think that is the way to go.  Children today do not relate to that type of teaching.

Me:  Seriously?  Old Mcdonald?  You’d be better off teaching them Beyonce!

(Every single set of eyes are turned towards me)

Mother Clucker:  Ah, you must be Daughter’s mother.

Me:  (Nodding).

Mother Clucker:  (the underlining does not quite put enough emphasis on Mother Clucker’s true tone of bitchy but just go with it) Your Daughter obviously knows English.  You should sit outside.  Your opinion is not valid.

Me:  Sit outside?  You didn’t sit outside when the Turkish teacher was speaking and honestly I’d much rather be sitting at home but I can’t because you won’t SHUT UP!

Like I said I’m definitely a keep it cool kind of gal.  Aren’t I?  Hello?  HELLO???

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What type of wine goes well with Back To School?

In Turkey, as in many parts of the world, it has been summer holidays.  In my mind it shouldn’t be.  Summer is December.  Summer is Christmas Day.  Summer is my birthday.  But as my world is topsy turvy now I have had to contend with the heat in August (it was hot) and freeze on my birthday (which I did).

Now I find myself living in a country where for 13 weeks (yes I will say that again – 13 weeks) I am responsible for my offspring 24 hours a day, 7 days a week!  I have never had to do this before.  I always worked during school holidays but now there is me and there is Daughter all the time!

Here in the village it seems I am not only lumbered with Daughter (who contractually I am obliged to love unconditionally) but I am also lumbered with a plethora of etcetera’s.  We are talking cousins, distant cousins, friends, friends of friends and probably an occasional stranger.  Our house is the bomb because:

(a) we have internet;

(b) we have air con; and

(c) we have a parent or adult guardian that cannot speak a word of Turkish and frankly doesn’t care what the hell these kids do.school 2014

But today has arrived.  I knew it was coming.  The last few days have been a flurry of activity in preparation.  Haircut?  Check.  New shoes?  “What do you mean Doc Martens?”  Sigh.  Check.  Nose ring?  What??? Umm, maybe not this year (and thankfully the school tut-tutted on that suggestion).

I attempted to get Daughter into bed early last night.  It was difficult but I achieved a partial victory by getting her into her bedroom by 10 pm.  Of course when I went to bed at midnight I found her texting friends in Australia (after all it is breakfast over there).  Go the feck to sleep!

At 6 am this morning Daughter’s alarm went off.  “Good morning, bah, bah, bah bah, bah, bah, bah, bah, good morning.”  A happy wake up alarm.  I thought it may calm the wild beast with its cheerfulness.  There was some grumbling and I heard “Shut it up!” from my room but honestly not as much as I had anticipated.  During the school holidays I was lucky if Daughter was out of bed by 11 but now the alarm sounding the option to lie in is imponderable.

There was a little moaning and a little bitching but I managed to get her out of the house with 5 minutes to spare.    I called out “I love you” as she walked away.  Without a backward glance she lifted her hand, “Love you too.”  *Sigh*

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And now we dance.

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Failing Religion

It is now school holidays in Turkey which means that Daughter has survived her first term in the Turkish village school.  She has survived classes where no one speaks her language.  She has navigated the social minefields of school life and made friends with kids and teachers alike.  She has gotten in trouble for talking in class, picked a fight to protect a friend and even got called into the principal’s office on one occasion.  She has also received her first Ilkogretim Orgenci Karnesi.  Her Elementary Student Report Card.

How did Daughter do?

You have probably already guessed that I am not only of those mother’s who brag about how wonderful and talented and amazing their child is.  I would rather call a spade a spade.  I will merely say that for a kid who four months ago was coasting along in a suburban school in Sydney she did pretty well.  She got a Certificate for passing the term (which is a good thing apparently).  She received 4’s and 5’s for most subjects (highest is a 5).  She got a 4 in Turkce which is pretty good considering it is not her first language.  The only subject she got a “2” in is Din Kulturu ve anlak bilgisi also known as “Religion”.

Long ago I made the decision to allow Daughter to choose her own religion when she was old enough to make an informed determination.  It is not to me as the parent to force something as important as spirituality on my child.  I always gave her the information when requested.  I took her to Sunday school classes at our local church, arranged for her to meet other Muslim families in our area and even enrolled her in Buddhism classes at Bondi.  We often attended the Hari Krishna Centre at North Sydney (best vegetarian samosa’s around) and I even explained the religion of Jedism (alright so perhaps I made her watch Star Wars with me).  I gave her the tools to learn about spirituality in her own way – and she has.  This is why a double lesson of Din must send her closer to the edge and also explains why she hates her Friday’s so much.

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I have, however, made one suggestion to her –

“Please do not argue with the Din Ogretmeni (Religion Teacher) again about Islam as this causes him to go red in the face and gesticulate in a manner that made your father laugh and made me flinch.  It also means that we do not need to make another trip up to the Principal’s Office on your behalf.  Thank you.”

Big Girls Do Cry

Daughter and I have had a fight.  I can hear her now in her bedroom belting out Simple Minds “Don’t you forget about me” and I just want to go in there and throw her ipod out the window.  At 11 I find her headstrong and on occasion completely out of line.  I wonder what on earth she is going to be like at 15 – which was how old I was when I first saw the movie that made this song famous – The Breakfast Club.  A movie about teenage rebellion and clichés.  It had it all.  How about the freeze frame last scene with Judd Nelson raising his fist to the sky?  “Fuck you!” Oh yeah I loved that movie!

I remember wanting desperately to be just like Molly Ringwald, pretty and popular flirting with the jocks but all the while longing after Bender (Judd Nelson).  Many would say I was probably more like Allison (Ally Sheedy) but deep down I really longed to be Molly’s character Claire. 

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An old friend put some high school photos up on Facebook a little while back which gave me a good laugh but honestly I would not repeat my school years if I could at all escape them.  Lonely in a crowd – that is how I saw myself. 

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When deciding to move to Turkey one of the factors taken into consideration was to remove Daughter from the “First World Dramas” that children seem to go through these days.  Social media, bad behaviour, general bullying – going to school is like navigating through a mine field.  It is not just a school either.  Children are pressured to be the best, the smartest, the fastest, the most beautiful and if they are not the smartest or the fastest or the most beautiful they, of course, take that failure to heart.  Can anyone say Helicopter Parents?  Children do not have time to actualize and understand a social situation before another situation (good or bad) presents itself.  The pressures that children find themselves under must be huge and we learnt the hard way with Daughter.  Two years ago I found a small gap in Daughter’s hair.  It was the size of a 20 cent piece.  Within days so much of her hair had fallen out that we had to consult specialists.  Daughter had been diagnosed with Alopecia Areata no doubt brought on by stresses in her daily life.  Two years on her hair has grown back although her curls have disappeared and her hair is now dead straight.

We recently watched an episode on 60 Minutes Australia which highlighted a young girl who committed suicide due to social pressure and bullying.  Daughter was a little distressed after watching the story and confided in me that since being in Turkey she has not been bullied nor felt the need to be the bully and “it’s been a bit of a relief to be honest Mummy”.  I forget just how much pressure Daughter has been under since moving here.  She had no Turkish to speak of and has had to adjust to not just a new language but also to a new schooling system. She has had to forge new friendships and continue her education all the while speaking this crazy ass language. 

A wonderful friend gave me some advice before we left which was that if Daughter found one good friend at that school she would be set.  And thankfully she has found not just one friend but many. 

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I realise that I should give my kid a break.  Maybe I will make her a hot chocolate (after all its bloody cold enough) and we can muddle through her homework together (I hate the homework) before her Turkish teacher arrives for her afternoon lesson.