[EXPAT VOICE] Final score: teaching in the UK 1, teaching in Turkey 4

But how would teaching in Turkey be different from teaching in the UK? In previous visits to the crèche where I now work, I realized that both children and staff used only first names (surnames being a relatively recent invention in Turkey). A welcome relief from the formal Mr., Mrs. or Miss titles used in the UK, it set the tone for a more relaxed relationship with both my class and co-workers and felt more like being in a family than in a classroom. My class of 3-year-olds was half the size of the ones I had been used to teaching, and by some miracle, an experienced full-time classroom assistant appeared. In my previous life, these members of staff were like gold dust, and their time had to be carefully portioned out around the whole school. So, already a few points in the bag for Turkey.

My next big sense of relief came when I was given a small handful of planning sheets to fill in. Great, I thought, but where were the huge folders full of long - medium and short-term plans, targets, curriculum documents, records, evidence sheets, self-assessment forms and the many other pieces of paper that had eaten-up my spare waking hours back in the UK? Not only were the plans sensibly brief, we were free to update, change and improve them whenever we wanted. Yes, finally I could look at the curriculum objectively and select appropriate topics and targets and implement these in my own way. Similarly, we were free to adapt recording forms to suit the needs of the children and teachers. The paperwork involved in taking children on school trips in England included a risk-assessment document the size of a small paperback. Here, we can visit the zoo, the park, the beach or go for picnics in the woods, with no bureaucracy beyond asking the parents for permission, whenever we feel like it. Another couple of points for Turkey.

There was, however, a small hiccough in the world of paperwork, with Turkish bureaucracy betraying its convoluted Byzantine origins. Getting a work permit, in theory a simple operation since my qualifications met all the criteria, proved a somewhat lengthy and expensive process. Although I had made the original application at the Turkish Consulate in London, it mysteriously disappeared somewhere in Ankara. This necessitated a flying visit back to London to restart (ultimately successfully) the whole process. Stressful at the time and not something I’d had to experience before. A point, thanks to a labyrinthine Turkish bureaucracy, to the UK?

When I finally started work, I made some time to have a look around the school, poking into cupboards to check out the resources. Where, I mused, was the room hiding the machine that is such an integral part of each and every UK school, the photocopier? Where else could people so regularly get together to gossip and find a notice saying “out of order”? “There’s no need for a photocopier here,” the head told me. “Getting photocopying done here is easy.” And it’s true. Everywhere I look, there are stationary shops offering cheap and efficient photocopying services. Now I have a convenient favorite, where the proprietor chats to me in Turkish while doing my copying and then cheerfully wishes me “iyi dersler” (“Have a good lesson”) as I carry on my way to school. No need for that sinking feeling when the school copier is not functioning and my entire day’s planning had relied on that last-minute batch of copies. Another point to Turkey.

Paper, paints, crayons and pens proved more difficult. In the UK, wholesalers take school’s orders and at the start of each term -- or when the budget will allow -- deliver huge quantities of materials of every sort all the way to your stock cupboard. In many Turkish schools, pupils are asked to bring in particular colors of paper or card or else asked to pay extra for these resources. Fortunately in my crèche, this is not the case. Nevertheless, getting hold of this sort of equipment requires much research and ingenuity. Whatever can be found locally is bought locally but many, to my mind essential, items have to be carried out from England. I recently organized a “paint run” -- giving six bottles of poster paint to my children and their friends to bring out in their luggage. Then there’s the magical world of “kirtasiyes.” These Turkish stationary outlets are a cornucopia for children and teachers alike, and I soon learnt that I could buy a whole range of interesting and exciting materials with which to brighten up my lessons. Regarding school supplies, then, its swings and roundabouts, so let’s call it a draw.

After my first few weeks of teaching, something seemed wrong. Where was the half-term holiday? In the UK, I had been accustomed to six or seven week blocks of teaching followed by a much-needed week or fortnight’s break. How would I survive? I asked my colleague, also from the UK and who had been here for two years. “Well, there are the weekends -- you have to make them into a mini holiday!” This, of course, made sense. Balmy Antalya famously has 300 days of sunshine a year; to say the UK has considerably less is an understatement. Trips to the beach in the summer (and spring and autumn) for swimming and sunbathing and in winter to the mountains for climbing and skiing are fantastic. So yes, most weekends, if planned well, can become much needed and restorative mini holidays. I still miss the longer breaks, but make sure I enjoy each and every weekend, so that’s a few more points for a teacher’s life in Turkey.

Last but not least? Teachers, as well as armies, march to work on their stomachs. In England, that meant copious amounts of ready-meals and other unhealthy stodge. Here in Turkey, the abundance of cheap fresh fruit and vegetables (bought from the Friday street market next to my crèche) help ensure my diet is way healthier than in the UK. A healthy body and healthy mind mean, I hope, that I’m a better teacher than ever before. Several more plus points for teaching over here.

So, the final score? It’s Turkey all the way. So while the dog goes back to the comfort and security of her kennel and delicious bowl of dog biscuits, I cycle off for another of what I hope will be many more days at my Turkish crèche.