School Daze

Shakib was nervous. It was 7:00 a.m., and he was due at school in 30 minutes. 

"Sit down and eat your breakfast," I commanded, and he obeyed. I knew that he would need all of his strength for what lay ahead – the first day of school.

Heeding the advice of our neighbor Kathy, a teacher at Shakib’s high school who volunteered to drive him in the mornings, Jon and I took him to school on that first day. A mother herself, Kathy knew that we would worry otherwise. She also suggested that we might want to take pictures. Remembering the excruciating embarrassment that parental hovering can cause, I skipped the photos. Let's face it: The universal goal for all 17-year-olds is to blend.

Fortunately, I’d had the prescience to set up a school tour for Shakib on the Friday before and to request that a buddy be assigned to assist him on the first day.  Although he looked like a deer caught in a headlight as we approached the campus, I knew that Shakib would be all right. Sure enough, his escort was waiting out front. The second Shakib spotted him, I no longer existed. Fair enough. Who wants your mother to walk you to class?

It was a long day for me – wondering how he was doing. When at last he came through the door, Shakib was exhausted. I know how fond teens are of being grilled by their parents, but I couldn’t resist. I wanted to know everything and bombarded him with questions.

The bottom line is that he liked some classes and was a little skeptical of others. The first day of school being mostly about ground rules, syllabi and school supplies, I reminded him to stay open and taught him the old axiom: Don’t judge a book by its cover.  

Shakib likes all of his teachers, and as the week progressed he found something to like about all of his subjects as well, all except algebra. He was very intimidated by a series of tests that he took in algebra class, but I have since learned that the purpose of these benchmark exams is to find a starting point for each student. No student moves on to the next skill until he succeeds. Shakib will be just fine.

His favorite class so far is the computer class, which turned out to be focused on Film Making and Video Production. Perfect. Like drama, a close second in Shakib's estimation, Film class will entail cooperative learning.

He is also making friends in English class where most of the students are native Spanish speakers. I had to explain that they were not from Spain.

It turned out that Shakib had no homework on that first day. Mom was not so lucky. There were papers to read, sign and return to his teachers, supplies to compile for each class, and the first request that I contact a faculty member.

Shakib's US history teacher had told him she didn’t think that her class was the right placement for him due to his English proficiency. I was concerned since the US State Department requires Shakib to take US history or government. But when I spoke to his teacher the next day, all became clear. He had been placed in a history class for English learners. She felt that his English was too good for the class and wanted to transfer him to mainstream history. Proud Momma syndrome instantly ensued.

We expected some culture shock with the onset of school. And we were right. His biggest surprise on the first day of school was the aggressiveness of the girls. 

“A girl laughed at me," he said. “She saw me in the hallway and said ‘You look lost.’ I wasn’t lost. And she walked right up to me and laughed.” He has a lot to learn about American mating rituals.

Once again, Shakib revealed his empathy and compassion as he contrasted the girls in his US high school with the female exchange students from Afghanistan whom he met at the program orientation in India. He described quiet girls who cover their heads, segregate themselves, and do not easily make eye contact. He said that he now understood why the Afghan girls were so homesick.

More opportunities for cultural understanding unfolded during the course of the week, including a misunderstanding with his drama teacher. He thought that she had used the term “Muslim terrorists” in an offensive manner and communicated this to Jon.

When I spoke with the teacher the next day, it became clear that she had actually been distinguishing stereotypes as part of a lesson on improvisation and had said, “We know that all Muslims are not terrorists. This is a stereotype, and stereotypes are not the truth about people.” A professional, enthusiastic and dedicated teacher, she was completely willing to straighten out the misunderstanding. She also recommended that I write a letter to the entire faculty informing them of Shakib’s presence in the school and his unique background.  

I ended up directly contacting 3 out of 5 teachers this week with issues to resolve so I paused to check in with myself. Was I being one of those dreaded helicopter parents that teachers complain about – the kind that hover close and swoop in to protect their children at a moment’s notice? Maybe. But Shakib is not used to standing up for himself with adults or talking something through with a teacher. Twelve years of schooling in Afghanistan have taught him that teachers are to be feared.

In Kabul, Shakib’s school day is shorter -- 7:00 am to 12:00 noon. The averages class size is 200. All 200 students sit together on the floor in one room for the entire five hours. No breaks are given for any reason. The teachers are strict. And they carry whips.

Shakib showed me scars where he had been injured by these whippings. I asked if he had been whipped because he did not know an answer. “No,” he said. “If a teacher hears a noise in the class, he will go around whipping all of the boys.”

Shakib demonstrated having his fingers forced back with a pencil woven between them. He also talked about his first year of school at age four. The teachers in that school whipped the boys on the bottoms of their feet. He says that this infuriated his mother, a teacher who does not whip her students, and that his feet have never been the same.

“This is why the Afghan students want to stay in America,” said Shakib. “I tell them that we must go back. I tell them also that it is possible to return to the US. I tell them that everything is possible.”