MARŞ!

SOL! SOL! SOL SAĞ SOL! SOL! SOL! SOL SAĞ SOL!

P.E. has begun at Işık Lisesi. The girls stand in stiff rows, one arm's length apart, every vertebrate rod straight. We face the hoca (teacher), and we march. Hoca barks the Turkish rendition of the classic military chant: LEFT, LEFT, LEFT RIGHT LEFT, and we obey. "Keep your arms straight! Knees UP! Swing the OPPOSITE arm!" hoca critiques in commanding Turkish. "Tuuuurn right!". Turn. Stomp. March. What happened to a simple game of dodgeball?

I must admit, I ended up somewhat enjoying it. At this point, with no sport to play, even walking up stairs feels fantastic to me, but I never before appreciated how much exercise a brief military march provides. Plus, I ended up being much better at marching in formation than I was in the brief game of volleyball I was playing with a few friends before the lesson started. (That was just humiliating.) I may never use my new skills in the Turkish army (as all of the boys in the class will be required to), but I do know that I will never forget the Turkish words for left and right again. Ever.