Essay for TEACH Fellowship

“It all began in the Mid East,” Mr. DeFina told us back in the 1980s.  “Language, technology, culture as we know it… If you want to know who you are, you need to understand the early days.  If you want to understand who we are, you need to find out what happened.  If you want humanity to continue, for heaven’s sake, you need to understand the Middle East.”

My mentor, my favorite teacher, my inspiration sat with us, a ragtag group of sixth graders who had just returned from an environmental education trip.  “Those stars we looked at,” he continued, “They are the same stars as I saw on the Arabian Peninsula.  They are the same stars the Phoenicians saw and the Sumerians. They are the same stars that guided ships across the oceans. They connect us across years and continents. We aren’t so different, not in the big picture.”

One teacher.  Thirty years.  An immeasurable impact.

Now I teach students. I have the sense of wonder that my sixth grade teacher instilled in me with such passion.  I have used this wonder to learn languages (I speak eight), to travel the world, and to become proficient in all kinds of technology (from slide rules to web design, from robotics to artificial intelligence programming).  I have taught teachers in Uruguay how to use the technology at their fingertips and corresponded with students in Slovenia about what it means to have a hero.  I hope Mr. DeFina would be proud of me, as I am now of many of my former students.

But I still have not been to the Middle East.  I have not looked upon the Persian Gulf which made the Fertile Crescent possible.  I have learned the Arabic alphabet and read Rumi and Gibran, and even modeled a Future City engineering project after the wind resistance of tall buildings in Dubai.  But I have not been there.

My passion and eagerness to learn are two traits that I bring to this experience which will help transcend boundaries and differences.  I want to take part in real and open dialogue about something closer than the stars, something that unites us all:  a love for teaching children.   

I believe that schools are hubs of enculturation, and I was fascinated to see how the escuelas primarias of Uruguay gave different messages to children than the elementary schools of New Jersey.  There, students ate three meals together with classmates of all ages and cleaned up after themselves; here, students need to be reminded to put their trash in the garbage and rely on custodians for the real cleaning.  There, students have fifteen minutes of unstructured play outside for every hour of instruction.  Here, students have a twenty-two minute lunch break without any time to play. There, families choose if students attend school for four hour days or eight hour ones.  Often, the choice is based on money; poorer families want the benefit of the extra government-provided meal full-day students are granted.  Here, though, students are expected to stay at school for the full seven hours. Though we don’t give students three meals a day, we include the art, music, engineering and sports in each school day.  

The people I met in Uruguay were very open to social contact.  I saw a light in their eyes, an aliveness that is rare in my normal daily life.  The country may be poorer, but the children value education and they value one another.

I am curious about how the schools in Bahrain, Qatar and the UAE teach their children, not just in terms of school subjects but also in terms of how to be community members and how to be healthy human beings.  By understanding how children are brought up, I believe I will derive a stronger insight into how our societies can connect.  I also am certain that I can bring back messages to my New Jersey and online communities about how real people live real lives.

I cannot be Mr. DeFina, but I smile when my students’ parents talk about their “Mr. DeFina” and call their inspiration “my Miss Bengels, from back when I was in school.”  At this point, I am not as worldly or as wise as the man who said, “If you want to understand who we are, you need to find out what happened.  If you want humanity to continue, for heaven’s sake, you need to understand the Middle East.”  However, I am as passionate. 

I know there are cultural differences which have become cultural divides.  I know that great passions have caused great misunderstandings.  And I know that the power of one person saying Salaam and meaning it can make a huge difference…Inshallah.  I know the power of two people laughing together can begin to tear down walls of uncertainty and insecurity.  I know the power of a community learning together can begin to repair the world.  And, above all, I know the power of teachers passing on these messages can transcend beyond any one lifetime.