Class One

The classroom was a small, mud brick situation. A notional blackboard had been elaborated on the far wall.

Fourteen students sat across two long wooden benches, each made of a long plank arranged in a separate row. The first plank was recovered from the flotsam floating down the Zê river four years earlier, when a historical yacht, once belonging to Atatürk had capsized and sunk, following a dramatic shootout after the boat became embroiled in a prostitution scandal.

The second wooden plank had once been used as part of a door frame in a small hat shop in Antalya. By small hat shop I mean that the hats were themselves small in size, the shop in fact was magnificently large. It even had a balcony. The original owner Ibrahim has wanted to sell large hats funnily enough, but local fashion dictated that a large Kalpak would not make for a valid choice in the dry summer climate along the Turkish Riviera. "Aaaaah the tyranny of the market" he would often say. It would seem that one day he finally had enough and was last reported leaving a Californian millenerian commune three days after the aliens had failed to arrive on time.

The class grew restless after waiting for their teacher. It had been at least a half hour. "Teacher is not coming," they concluded unanimously and began to leave. The youngest child interjected, "I was told to inform you that tomorrow's lesson will take place. In preparation, we are each required to do only do things that can not be considered homework."