It's peaceful and quiet this last Friday morning of February 2009. It actually looks as if it will rain. It is not unusual to have rain in Cairo in the winter. This year has been an exception, which I attribute to global warming. I am working on lesson plans and activities for the upcoming month. It has been a busy academic year, personally and professionaly. Our school grew exponentially this year. This is only our third academic year, but we have more than doubled our capacity. As we move into the last few months of the school year, I cannot help but reflect on my performance as a teacher; my expectations from my students and if I am close to meeting my goals for the year. After reviewing my curriculum, I know that I am on target for learning goals and expectations. I have some students I red flagged for different reasons; from behavioral to learning problems. I am taking a proactive approach in meeting these individual students needs and thankfully, their parents are onboard. I have now started reflecting on my school community and whether my students are contributing to a healthy and vibrant community of learners. I truly believe they are learning to be a part of a bigger picture. The values and belief system of my school takes a long time to instill in our Egyptian culture. Forming a line, waiting in line, is unheard of here and it is not commonly practiced. For example, asking students to stand in line is contrary to his/her social norms. If you enter any bank, office, or in particular any grocery store you find people pushing through lines to get to the front without any regard for others. I once had an older well dressed, seemingly educated gentleman push his way to the counter in front of me to purchase a coffee in the Gezira Club. When I told him in Arabic that I was waiting ahead of him, he replied to me in English "why are you complaining to me, he took my money." I didn't bother to argue with him. I realized that there was no point. He exemplified everything I find sad, wrong and disappointing in this country that I love so much. Complete and utter disregard for consideration of others. To me, he was no longer considered important enough to argue with. Regardless of his family name, his level of education or his background, henceforth, he was simply ignorant, irrelivant and unworthy of my time. I face this same issue daily as an educator in Egypt. Respect for others, inclusiveness, tolerance and consideration are imbedded in our schools philosophy and belief system. I put credence in it, and I plant it in my classroom as seeds; nurturing it, caring for it daily. The problem with that philosophy and belief system is that it is not recognized outside of my classroom or our school community. Respect for others and self at school does not work well in a class based society outside of school. Each day, for eight hours a day, I remind my students to stay organized, keep up with personal items, pick up and clean up after themselves, put trash in the garbage cans. Once they leave the school, their drivers pick them up, their maids clean up after them, carry their bags, pick up their plates, pick up their garbage. Each day, I try to teach my students personal responsibility, that respect is earned not a given. I am sure at times it is confusing for them. Our culture is based on entitlement; My family name is such and such, so I am entitled to do as I like. I paid the schools fees, so I am entitled to treat you like my employee. I am the brother of such and such, and I can buy you, force you, coerce you to conform. Each day, I try to model behaviors of consideration and compassion. I am sure that is difficult for them to comprehend when their parents teach them that the maids or the workers are beneath them, a different class than they are and they are not worthy of any concern or respect. God has placed them on this earth to serve them, and that is and always will be their only place. It is a daily struggle and many days I feel defeated. I wonder if I have lost my mind, to continue trying to practice what I preach. Yet, I do continue, because I believe in my students and I place my faith in them.

This is my last academic year in Egypt for a while. I will be returning to the US during the upcoming summer. I can only hope with the economy the way it is to find a job in education upon my return. Only time will reveal those opportunities. Whatever those opportunities may be, I know I am up to the challenge. Seven years of working in education in Egypt has prepared me for any challenges that may lie ahead.

Until next time,

A Woman of Egypt

Valentine's Day! Thoughts of candy, balloons, flowers, presents wrapped in bright red ribbon, surprises for loved ones. Valentine's Day has made me take some time to consider what is really important in my life. I read somewhere that someone once said the best expression of love is time. I am short on time these days. The importance of things can best be measured by the amount of time you are willing to put into it. The more you value it, the more time you put into it. I am wondering if I value myself and my time too dearly. I am highly focused and goal oriented when it comes to my profession. I have a tendency to let my personal health and relationships take a backseat to my professional demands. I am unable to find balance at times, and it shows. I gain weight and lose contact with people. When my schedule becomes overloaded, I start skimming on my relationships with others. I am firmly convinced that the ultimate success in our lives is our relationships with other people. Are our loved ones lives better because of our presence? I guess that can only be determined by our ability to be present, giving of our time. Giving of myself at times can be a sacrafice. My own selfish needs put away to give of myself to others. This Valentine's Day weekend I have made a vow to myself to not become preoccupied with my own professional demands. I will make a concious effort to be present in the lives of those that I love and care about. I will give of my most precious commodity...time.

Until next time,

A Woman of Egypt

I had to go out this morning to run some errands. We have been on midyear holiday from school and I needed to pay off my credit card and buy some groceries. I decided to walk to the bank which is only about 25 minutes on foot. My route to the bank takes me through a market called Soloman Gohar. I like this market... it has everything and anything a household might need. It was very early in the morning and since I was in no rush I was able to spend some time pricing the different vegetable carts and shops, absorbing the atmosphere around me. The gentleman in this photo was busy making pillows for a bedroom set. He's quick, and I am sure he made several sets today. I take this route home every afternoon from school. The mornings and the afternooons in Soloman Gohar have a completely different rythm. In the afternoons it is very crowded with people, cars, carts and donkeys, people shoving and arguing their way through their purchases. In the mornings, people are amiable, smiling and there is an air of gentle calm. I saw the woman who works on the street behind my home parking cars near the Kuwaiti Embassy. She had purchased a huge cabbage and was carrying it on her head along with several loaves of bread in a plastic bag. I greeted her when she passed me and her little boy kept smiling at me until he turned the corner. I saw an American woman who works for a school here in Cairo. We stopped and chatted for about 20 minutes and then I moved on towards the bank. I couldn't help but think about those two women during my walk. Two women, from completely different cultural backgrounds, living the same life style, both poor, both struggling to raise their kids, both primary income earners for their families. Everyday I see the Egyptian mother parking cars near the Kuwaiti Embassy beside my home. She's very tall, slim, and carries herself in a way that is almost elegant. She is attractive, and with some new clothes, I am sure she would pass for some of the higher class Caireens in any five star hotel lobby. She always has a smile on her face, moderate voice in dealing with others, and always looks clean. Her son is always playing near her, but I have never seen him misbehave. He is quite and mannerly. Her husband is there too...always sitting in a white plastic chair, smoking his cigarettes and drinking his tea. He doesn't even look like someone she would be married too. He is unkempt, dirty and looks uneducated. I have never seen him get up out of that chair and do any work in all these years. Only his wife. She as an Egyptian female, growing up in the socioeconomic class that she did, probably feels she is doing ok. She is married, has a son, makes some money, and her struggles are not unlike her neighbors, her sisters, or even her mother's. Perhaps to some degree, she is better off in many aspects than others of her class level. I don't know, and I would surely never ask her. I respect her, and I admire her resiliance and integrity. The American teacher....well, it has never ceased to amaze me with all the stories I hear or the women I have met in all these years here in Cairo, how any Americans growing up in the United States of America with our freedoms and the right to choice, would choose to come to Egypt and live like the Egyptian mom I just spoke about. A friend and I were talking about this the other day and her experience with these types of women has been more than mine. She thinks if you are going to end up marrying some poor, uneducated Egyptian, and live in a poor district of Cairo then you should have stayed in the states, married some poor, uneducated nobody, moved into the projects and lived on state aid. For sure you would be living better there, than here. I tend to agree. If I had a penny for every story I have heard about women coming here, falling in love with some poor Egyptian man, someone like the guy in this picture, getting married, immediately getting pregnant, and then realizing that the "love of their life" turns out to be the "biggest mistake of their life." Stories of women buying homes, thinking that they are going to be building lives with the men they love, and then getting kicked out, only to realize that the home was bought and purchased with her money, but in his name. Women who have married these men, and never knew that they were a second wife. Women who have had money stolen from them, their children stolen from them, and their lives destroyed. And there are many, who stick it out, because they don't know what else they should do, don't want to lose their children, and have no other choices. Some do make it out, but many stay. I feel empathy for these women, but I am unable to build friendships with them. I have nothing in common with these women, even if we share the same nationality. I completed my errand at the bank and on the way home I greeted the Egyptian mom and waved to her son. I realized in the lift on the way up to my flat, that I had lost respect for the American mom I had chatted with today in the souk. Her choice to stay in the situation she had described to me earlier was illogical and incomprehensible to me. I felt sad and guilty that I could so easily dismiss her and discount her right to choice. Was it right for me to judge her based on her choices? Was it really correct for me to impose my standards of success upon her? I don't think so, but I still could not help but feel the way I did. I will see both of those women again, perhaps on the street, maybe at an educational conference. The outcome of these meetings will always be the same for me. I will admire the one that is striving to do her best with the social class that she has been born into, and I will always be congenial but reluctant to engage the American, who I feel threw away all the priviliges it is to be American, right to choice and the right to personal success.
Until next time,
A Woman of Egypt