MAGIC WATER (by Zeynep Evren)


Hello, my name is Zeynep. I am going to tell you a story. I was living in a city. One day I was doing my homework.  I was thirsty, so I went to the kitchen. I drank water. I felt strange. Then what happened do you know? I found myself in America. But I did not know why?

 In America I saw someone. Then I learned that her name was Ayşe. She tried to help me. We went to a park. We played games together. We were very thirsty. We went to Ayşe’s home. We sat on something green and round like a chair. Then she brought me a glass of water and buumm….. I found myself in Egypt.

 In Egypt someone called Maruf took me somewhere. His skin was a little brown. “Let’s play water game,” he said. I didn’t want to play because I knew that I was going to go to another country. But he didn’t listen to me. He came and splashed water over me. I was wet, angry and tired. Then I went to Spain.

 I was in Spain because of Maruf. I missed my mother very much. There was a king named Berkan. He caught me and put me in the dungeon. They gave me a little food and a glass of water. I didn’t want to drink it but the king wanted to see me drinking it. But I didn’t know why. I drank it and found myself in England. 

 There was a big war. I had to drink water or I would die. Because in the war, they would kill me. I was searching for a glass of water, but I couldn’t find. Then someone named Ahmet came and said, “This water is dirty. We can’t use it, so I’m putting it here.” I did not want to drink it but I had no other choice. I drank it and buumm… I was in France.

 There were two ugly women named Feyza Nur and Sena Nur in France. They wanted to make me their slave. I didn’t want to be their slave. But they forced me. They gave me water and I drank it immediately. I heard a sound….

 “Zeynep, wake up! We are going to have dinner,” my mum said. I woke up. I didn’t understand where I was. Then I understood that all of those things were a dream. Or should I say it was a nightmare? That was a strange dream and I thought that I went to 200 years forward in the future. Because the year is 1809 now. But in the dream it was 2009.  In Ayşe’s home, there was something I saw. That thing was a computer. 200 years later, there is going to be a computer, I think.   

Zeynep Evren

5 – C              





A storytelling contest was held in level 5 weekday evening class in English Time on 25th March 2009. The students have shared interesting stories they had experienced with their classmates. These stories are unforgettable stories based on real events. The best storyteller is going to be announced and rewarded by Turgay Evren, English Teacher the next week on Monday. 

Click on the link below to listen to the stories from Level 5 weekday evening students of English Time.

What is the Meaning of Your Life (Turgay Evren)

Did you ever think about the meaning of your life? What is the meaning of your life? What is the purpose of your life? What is the goal or objective of your life? What is the most important thing in your life? Why are you living? What is the destination of your life? Do you know that any answer that you can give for the questions above can save your life one day? Listen to Turgay Evren’s podcast to grasp the significance of the question fully.

Martin Luther King, Jr.


Have you heard of Martin Luther King, Jr.?  Every year on the third Monday of January, we have a holiday.  It’s called Martin Luther King, Jr. Day.  Martin Luther King, Jr. was a famous man.  Learn more about him.



races/ racial– groups of people based on looks (skin color) and background, for example- white people, Asian people, black people, etc.

to segregate/ segregation– dividing into groups, usually talking about race, for example- black people and white people didn’t go to the same schools and lived in different neighborhoods

minister– leader of a church

rights– freedoms, what you are allowed to do

violence– hurting other people

to assassinate– to kill



Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was born in Atlanta, Georgia in the United States in 1929.  At that time in America, black people didn’t have equal rights with white people.  Black people had to sit in the back of busses.  The schools were segregated and there were even separate public restrooms for black people and white people.  Black people’s lives were not very good.

Martin Luther King, Jr. was a minister in the Baptist Church.  He fought against racial segregation.  He wanted equal rights for all people.  But he didn’t use violence in his fight.  He asked people to fight peacefully.  For example, he asked black people to ride in the front of the bus.  More than 200,000 people went to Washington D.C. to listen to him speak and ask the government to change unfair laws.    

Because of Martin Luther King, Jr., many laws began to change in the United States.  But many white people disagreed with him and his ways.  In 1968, Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated by a white man.

Every year on the third Monday of January, Americans remember Martin Luther King, Jr.  They try to remember how much America has changed.  And they think about how much more America should change in the future.



1.  What is racial segregation?

2.  What was Martin Luther King Jr.’s job?

3.  How did he ask people to fight for their rights?

4.  Did Martin Luther King, Jr. kill someone?

5.  When do Americans celebrate Martin Luther King, Jr. Day?



1.  When races of people are separated.  For example, they cannot go to school together, eat in the same restaurants, use the same toilets, or live in the same neighborhoods.

2.  He was a minister.

3.  He asked them to fight peacefully.  They didn’t use any violence.

4.  No.  But Martin Luther King was killed in 1968.

5.  Americans celebrate Martin Luther King, Jr. Day on the


Cheating in the exam (by Turgay Evren)

Like every student I have also cheated in the exams many times. However, I have a story that I will never forget about cheating in the exam throughout my life. If you are wondering this story, click on the link below and listen to this story from the first mouth.


 “I am going home to Denmark, Son, and I just wanted to tell you I love you.”

In my dad’s last telephone call to me, he repeated that line seven times in a half hour. I wasn’t listening at the right level. I heard the words, but not the message, and certainly not their profound intent. I believed my dad would live to be over 100 years old, as my great uncle lived to be 107 years old. I had not felt his remorse over Mom’s death, understood his intense loneliness as an “empty nester,” or realized most of his pals had long since light-beamed off the planet. He relentlessly requested my brothers and I create grandchildren so that he could be a devoted grandfather. I was too busy “entrepreneuring” to really listen.

“Dad’s dead,” sighed my brother Brian on July 4, l982.

My little brother is a witty lawyer and has a humorous, quick mind. I thought he was setting me up for a joke, and I awaited the punchline – there wasn’t one. “Dad died in the bed he was born in – in Rozkeldj,” continued Brian. “The funeral directors are putting him in a coffin, and shipping Dad and his belongings to us tomorrow. We need to prepare for the funeral.”

I was speechless. This isn’t the way it’s supposed to happen. If I knew these were to be Dad’s final days, I would have asked to go with him to Denmark. I believe in the hospice movement, which says: “No one should die alone.” A loved one should hold your hand and comfort you as you transition from one plane of reality to another. I would have offered consolation during his final hour, if I’d been really listening, thinking and in tune with the Infinite. Dad announced his departure as best he could, and I had missed it. I felt grief, pain and remorse, Why had I not been there for him? He’d always been there for me.

In the mornings when I was nine years old, he would come home from working 18 hours at his bakery and wake me up at 5:00 A.M. by scratching my back with his strong powerful hands and whispering, “Time to get up, Son.” By the time I was dressed and ready to roll, he had my newspapers folded, banded and stuffed in my bicycle basket. Recalling his generosity of spirit brings tears to my eyes.

When I was racing bicycles, he drove me 50 miles each way to Kenosha, Wisconsin, every Tuesday night so I could race and he could watch me. He was there to hold me if I lost and shared the euphoria when I won.

Later, he accompanied me to all my local talks in Chicago when I spoke to Century 21, Mary Kay, Equitable and various churches. He always smiled, listened and proudly told whomever he was sitting with, “That’s my boy!”

After the fact, my heart was in pain because Dad was there for me and I wasn’t there for him. My humble advice is to always, always share your love with your loved ones, and ask to be invited to that sacred transitional period where physical life transforms into spiritual life. Experiencing the process of death with one you love will take you into a bigger, more expansive dimension.