A friend of my mine, Shin, was frustrated the other day, because her grade is always a B, no matter how hard she tries. Finally, she asked the teacher why she keeps getting a B, when her design is one of the best in class. The teacher replied, “You have the best work, but you can’t speak English.” I thought his grading was fair. In a presentation, both your work and how you present your work are being judged, and if you have not met the standards, it’s fair for the grade to suffer. It is tough to study in your second language, but when it’s a choice you made, it’s fair to expect from you to deliver just like everybody else. Shin agreed with me, but she was still unsettled about this whole thing. Ironically, her English was not enough to express it. I figured what bothered her was the way this teacher approached - it was true but not really constructive. This particular teacher wasn’t that bad. There are some teachers that piss me off badly with their discomforting, far from intelligent remarks. I’d like to believe that a teacher, especially a college teacher, would aim to educate, enlighten, and have influential effect on the mind and character of the students. At least, this is what the definition of education suggests. But some of them float around aimlessly like dust bunnies, come and go to school like they work at the post office, stamping outgoing mail till they clock out. I recall my Physical Science teacher last semester. He proudly announced that he doesn’t believe in Global Warming, and it is actually something Al Gore made up. “Even if it was true I don’t care what happens to the world as long as Oklahoma is not under water,” he said… Or the Biology teacher I had, one of the previous times I took the course. He called Darwin “crazy” for his evolution theory, and claimed that we “just can’t know.” I do respect free expression. Teachers should discuss their opinions, for example, on Afghan War or Paris Hilton’s BFF or whatever they like. It is just the time and energy I have to put into nonsense that disappoints and frustrates me. “When did science become debatable?” Kathy Griffin once asked. It was surprisingly an intelligent question from her; raised a good point. I wonder what qualified these people as teachers. Do they hire anybody who has a degree, just so they can open more classes; and who hires them? Who hires a Biology teacher that calls Darwin “crazy”? What kind of an inspiration does an educator expect to spark in a student by stating he is not concerned with human welfare and social reform? And most importantly, why would someone want to study and teach science, if we “just can’t know” things? We shouldn’t have bunch of Global Warming denying, evolution doubting Science teachers running around, talking crazy. That’s scary. Click for high-res photo

A friend of my mine, Shin, was frustrated the other day, because her grade is always a B, no matter how hard she tries. Finally, she asked the teacher why she keeps getting a B, when her design is one of the best in class. The teacher replied, “You have the best work, but you can’t speak English.”

I thought his grading was fair. In a presentation, both your work and how you present your work are being judged, and if you have not met the standards, it’s fair for the grade to suffer. It is tough to study in your second language, but when it’s a choice you made, it’s fair to expect from you to deliver just like everybody else.

Shin agreed with me, but she was still unsettled about this whole thing. Ironically, her English was not enough to express it. I figured what bothered her was the way this teacher approached - it was true but not really constructive.

This particular teacher wasn’t that bad. There are some teachers that piss me off badly with their discomforting, far from intelligent remarks.

I’d like to believe that a teacher, especially a college teacher, would aim to educate, enlighten, and have influential effect on the mind and character of the students. At least, this is what the definition of education suggests. But some of them float around aimlessly like dust bunnies, come and go to school like they work at the post office, stamping outgoing mail till they clock out.

I recall my Physical Science teacher last semester. He proudly announced that he doesn’t believe in Global Warming, and it is actually something Al Gore made up. “Even if it was true I don’t care what happens to the world as long as Oklahoma is not under water,” he said… Or the Biology teacher I had, one of the previous times I took the course. He called Darwin “crazy” for his evolution theory, and claimed that we “just can’t know.”

I do respect free expression. Teachers should discuss their opinions, for example, on Afghan War or Paris Hilton’s BFF or whatever they like. It is just the time and energy I have to put into nonsense that disappoints and frustrates me. “When did science become debatable?” Kathy Griffin once asked. It was surprisingly an intelligent question from her; raised a good point.

I wonder what qualified these people as teachers. Do they hire anybody who has a degree, just so they can open more classes; and who hires them? Who hires a Biology teacher that calls Darwin “crazy”? What kind of an inspiration does an educator expect to spark in a student by stating he is not concerned with human welfare and social reform? And most importantly, why would someone want to study and teach science, if we “just can’t know” things?

We shouldn’t have bunch of Global Warming denying, evolution doubting Science teachers running around, talking crazy. That’s scary.

My Astronomy teacher, Dr. Jayanta Rudra, looks like Mahatma Gandhi. He is a tiny, elderly, bold man from India, and his glasses (when he wears one) are very similar to Gandhi’s. The resemblance is not just physical. His teaching style reflects some sort of kindness about him that enhances the Gandhi-likeness, too. He is filled with endless information, but the way he delivers is not in a dictatorial way. It is more caring and understanding. I’m sure he knows majority of the students in his class have nothing to suggest permanence in the field of Astronomy, but his determination to make this tough subject as lucid as possible, gives you a ‘Gandhism’ feeling. Yesterday, he was teaching telescopes – the design, the size, and the lenses of telescopes.  As we were all looking at the slights he projected on the board, he explained the difference between a ‘lens’ and a ‘mirror’, which eventually lead to the difference between ‘refracting’ and ‘reflecting’. “When light bends at an interface between two transparent materials, it is refracting. A lens refracts light. When light directly bounces back from a surface, it is reflecting. A mirror directly reflects light.” Then he silently added, “Mirrors can be cruel sometimes.”

My Astronomy teacher, Dr. Jayanta Rudra, looks like Mahatma Gandhi. He is a tiny, elderly, bold man from India, and his glasses (when he wears one) are very similar to Gandhi’s.

The resemblance is not just physical. His teaching style reflects some sort of kindness about him that enhances the Gandhi-likeness, too. He is filled with endless information, but the way he delivers is not in a dictatorial way. It is more caring and understanding. I’m sure he knows majority of the students in his class have nothing to suggest permanence in the field of Astronomy, but his determination to make this tough subject as lucid as possible, gives you a ‘Gandhism’ feeling.

Yesterday, he was teaching telescopes – the design, the size, and the lenses of telescopes.  As we were all looking at the slights he projected on the board, he explained the difference between a ‘lens’ and a ‘mirror’, which eventually lead to the difference between ‘refracting’ and ‘reflecting’.

“When light bends at an interface between two transparent materials, it is refracting. A lens refracts light. When light directly bounces back from a surface, it is reflecting. A mirror directly reflects light.”

Then he silently added, “Mirrors can be cruel sometimes.”

rules of desirability Click for high-res photo

rules of desirability

the good, the bad, and the difference

The small talk I was having the other day with this particular person has somehow evolved into a conversation about animals. I think it was her, who talked about taking her nieces and nephews to the zoo, and was describing their passion about animals. It was very cute. I related to children’s enthusiasm because I, myself, often get as enthusiastic as a 5-year-old about anything.

I mentioned that I have ridden an ostrich once, when I took a trip to South Africa with my mother years ago. “I was amazed how long his neck was! I didn’t know where to hold on or if I would choke him when I grabbed it!”

She said, “Oh, that’s awesome! Which country have you been in South Africa?” I courteously corrected her. ”South Africa is a country. We visited the city, Cape Town.”

That was it. We said our goodbyes and walked away, shortly after she gave me a look filled with irritation and vengeance. My genuine contribution to the conversation was obviously perceived as a bitchery, an uppityness; better yet, an offense.

I wish she expressed her annoyance, rather than sending mean signals with her body language, because I could totally use that moment as an opportunity to explain that there were no hidden messages in what I said. I simply believe there is no shame in not knowing something. It is shameful when you refuse to grasp new information, which was exactly the case this person was in.

To courteously correct a falsehood is not an insult; it is estimable. There is no need to be embarrassed by our lack of information or get aggravated when we are corrected and become the victim of our insecurities. Correcting factual errors can do no harm but revise our way of thinking.

Additionally, not knowing Africa is a continent and South Africa is a country also reflects, this person has probably not heard of Nelson Mandela, either. She has long ways to go, and she, sure as shit, isn’t going to get there by following this type of behavior.

Personally, everyday I come across with something I didn’t know before. Everyday is, for sure, a new vocabulary for me. I make errors that crack people up, I constantly ask meanings of slang, I look up words, and I learn it and I am not embarrassed by it. It is quite fun, actually. Some lacks of information, on the other hand, tend to slap me in the face, brutally proving my vulnerability. Few tears fall down but what are you going to do? You learn it and you move on.

I think, she should just reconsider if she ever decides to be on the show “Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader?”

too kool for skool

I have always liked going to school although I can’t say that I have been the best student my entire life. I was fortunate enough to go to one of the best private high schools in the country, and loved my school, my friends and my teachers. I loved having foreign teachers, foreign exchange students, speaking English, reading literature, and learning French on the side, too.

I absolutely ignored the subjects I didn’t enjoy, and was perfectly satisfied with the excellent grades I got in my favorites, like they were the only ones I was responsible of.

I recall the days when my beautiful and intelligent friend Naz was, patiently, trying to teach me ‘Solubility’ before the Chemistry test we had to take, back in 9th grade. She literally had to grab a glass of hot water and a cube sugar so that I can, maybe, understand which one is the ‘dissolvent’ and which one is the ‘dissolver.’ Still to this day, the only thing I remember from a science class is that evaporation takes place at any temperature. I thought it was interesting that our clothes would dry off even if it were freezing outside.

Still, I was happy. In fact, I remember what my 9th grade Geography teacher told my mother once at the teachers-parents meeting. She slowly waved my almost blank exam sheet in front of my mother’s eyes, like she was hypnotizing her, and said, “This is İpek for you right here… She not only failed the test, but also got deducted extra points because her answer was ‘schools close down’ for the question ‘what are the effects of winter and snow on the landscape?’ Nevertheless, I congratulate you Mrs. Gürer for raising such a happy daughter. She shares with her friends, gets along with her classmates, and always smiles.”

My mom was puzzled.

I didn’t like studying but I always did my homework. I felt like homework was the responsibility I had to the teacher. It was something I was assigned and I had to deliver no matter what. But the tests were my own liability and I was convinced that I could slack since the grade only affected me. I really don’t know how I came up with this bizarre conclusion and why it made sense to me at the time but I must have grown out of it later, because I finished high school with honors.

Now on Monday August 17th school starts for me again, and I realized that this is the 19th year of my life as a student. One more time, I will be grabbing my books, my notebooks and my pencil box, and will be on my way to school to do my thing.

It’s almost like I’m a plane tree and school is a fungus growing on me.

When I complained about being a student to a good friend of mine, who is about a year and a half younger than me and already a successful civil engineer, he said that he wishes he were me. He pointed out the fact that after ‘student life’ is over; one gets to the ‘working phase’ that will continue till the end of time, and responsibilities only increase.

After I thought about it for a minute, it wasn’t that bad after all. I still feel like a plane tree but there was a significant rise in my 19-year Student Performance Bar Graph. For the last 2 years, my enthusiasm to learn and my researcher side increased greatly. Social life dropped drastically but it’s okay because, like B.I.G said “now I’m in the limelight ‘cause I rhyme tight.”

I seriously decided to let up on the bitchery just a little and enjoy my studentship.

Fortune cookies are a cultural icon - it is fascinating! They can be everything from fun entertainment, to a weird sort of compliment, to advice on how to play the lottery. They are mostly confusing, but at the same time, they arouse curiosity and sometimes have the power to put you in a good/bad mood instantly. With that said, I had Chinese take-out for dinner tonight and this is what my fortune said: Don’t forget, you are always on our minds. That’s exactly what I mean by ‘weird sort of compliment’. Thank you Golden Gate Fortune Cookie Company of San Francisco, California. You are on my mind, too. Click for high-res photo

Fortune cookies are a cultural icon - it is fascinating!

They can be everything from fun entertainment, to a weird sort of compliment, to advice on how to play the lottery. They are mostly confusing, but at the same time, they arouse curiosity and sometimes have the power to put you in a good/bad mood instantly.

With that said, I had Chinese take-out for dinner tonight and this is what my fortune said:

Don’t forget, you are always on our minds.

That’s exactly what I mean by ‘weird sort of compliment’.
Thank you Golden Gate Fortune Cookie Company of San Francisco, California. You are on my mind, too.

me in 20 years.. Click for high-res photo

me in 20 years..

a dialogue of vampires

- tell me.. what is it that you find so fulfilling about human companionship?

- they feel much more strongly than we do. everything is urgent, exciting.. maybe because their lives are so temporary.

- yes, they certainly don’t keep well… did you find a prospect of him growing old, sickly, crippled, some what a… repulsive?

- no. i find it curious.. like a science project.

~True Blood - Satisfy your thirst, Sundays at 8:00pm.

little blue ball

Yesterday evening I decided to go to the pool, assuming it wouldn’t be as crowded as it has been all summer, especially since it had rained the whole afternoon.

I grabbed a cold one, a towel and one of the best Ernest Hemingway short stories, The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber, which was recommended to me by a 67 year old Harvard graduate student during a small talk we had in flight to Chicago.

I was right. The pool was not crowded at all - just me and another gentleman, who also was enjoying a cold one under the shade, while keeping an eye on the 2 boys (his sons I suppose) running around, splashing water, and just being ‘kids at the pool.’

Even though I was so drawn into reading about Francis Macomber’s safari adventure, I couldn’t help myself but overhear the boys’ conversation. They both were not older than 10 or 11, but certainly feeling quite badass. One of them was bragging about how he could lift 30 pounds at the gym, back in the day when he was 5 years old, and the other one was claiming he recently flew a plane all by himself. They were loud and obnoxious but their “manliness” made me laugh.

As I went back to reading Macomber, his loaded rifle and the buffalos, I saw another gentleman, with 2 kids, entering the pool. I thought to myself, moms got to be at the happy hour with girlfriends today, and these two dads must have been home alone with the kids. They probably had to come up with something to do, so they just took them to the pool at 7:30pm. I bet they needed to keep their sanity a little, too - especially after a long day at work. For all I know, father #1 was having a cold one after another.
And this was getting interesting.

As father #2 sat down few chairs beside me, his kids got in the pool and started swimming and playing with their little blue ball. These two seemed different than the other boys. Yes, they were younger, maybe 4 or 5, but they were unexpectedly noiseless. They seemed happy, behaved properly, enjoyed being at the pool and playing with the little blue ball – up until it bounced off the side…

They were both so young - it would have taken them a long time to swim across, get off the pool and pick up the ball; but that wasn’t the case for the 11 year old. As soon as he saw their ball bouncing off the side, he pulled himself out of the water with his allegedly weight lifting arms, ran over there and caught the ball swiftly. He came back to the pool with great enthusiasm, did his signature splashing dive and started playing water polo with his pilot brother, completely ignoring the surprised and disappointed looks of the younger kids. 
This, really, was getting interesting.

The 4 year old called out for his father. They were speaking in Arabic, which was very surprising, but in a funny way it explained their noiselessness earlier, too.

Different cultures, different manners, maybe a sheltered upbringing… I am not sure what it exactly was but those two were acting very appropriate for being 5 or so, simply happy with the blue ball they had, but now they lost it.

When the little boy whiningly talked to his father, I could only catch the words ‘ball’ and ‘dad’ since my Arabic has faded like an often-washed black t-shirt. The father smiled warmly and, I think, told his son he should ask for the ball himself, if he wants it back; but the boy couldn’t. He sat there with his little sister; tears dried in his eyes, and just watched them play with his little blue ball.

Was father #1 seeing this? I looked over at him. No, he wasn’t. He was texting…

…I just went back to reading - finished the last couple pages of The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber and got up to leave - it was almost 8:30pm. I was just heading to the gate, when all of a sudden; the little blue ball rolled over and stopped right by my feet; couldn’t believe it. I picked it up and gave it to the boy.

Maybe I shouldn’t have, because even if I couldn’t really understand what they were saying, it was clear that father #2 was trying to teach his son a lesson. He wanted him to stand up for himself, at that early age, and not ask for daddy’s help when things went wrong – even though it’s just a little blue ball. But I must admit, when I gave him the ball, the joy in his eyes was priceless.

a lesson learned after my first accident

we are not entitled to compensation for each of life’s calamities. to leave the house is to accept some risks. a passing car may splash mud on us; a passer-by on a crowded sidewalk may bump into us, spilling our coffee. these are the ordinary vicissitudes of life, not occasions for lawsuits. it is when people behave negligently (that passing car was speeding and the owner was letting his poodle drive) that compensation can be demanded.

bloody insurance companies are ruthless.