Tales Out of School

December 3, 2007

Back in the Big Apple, kids have to be frisked for semiautomatic weapons before entering the school building. Having gained admittance, they then proceed to spend their time setting fires to garbage cans in the girl’s and boy’s bathrooms as a form of recreation (and no, although writers are prone to exaggerate, I am not making this up in order to entertain you: a former publishing colleague who left to teach at a charter high school in Queens told me this story in her first or second year. Funnily enough, she still didn’t want her old job back, though.)

As a teacher here in a private school in Dakar, I have to say that I have it extremely good compared to my NY counterparts: my students stand when I enter the room and it is considered a grave infraction if their drab brown uniform shirts are not tucked in properly, if they are wearing nail polish or (Allah forbid!) if they come to class without their book or their homework assignment.

Last week I inadvertently made one young man cry because he came to a two-hour literature class without the novel we are reading in hand. As it turns out, he had absentmindedly left the book in another classroom and another student had picked it up to return it to him. Afterwards the boy came to tell me that he thought the 2,000 word essay on The Awakening that I had assigned him to write in detention was cruel and unusual punishment, not to mention horribly unjust into the bargain:

“But whose book is it?” I asked, not entirely gently.

Somewhat sullenly: “Mine.”

“And whose responsibility do you think it is to know where this book is at all times?”

“But –”

“WHOSE responsibility?” (louder, in a tone brooking no contradiction).

Large crocodile tear emerges from corner of student’s eye.

Fade out.

I somehow think this scene might have played out a bit differently in a NY high school; I might not even have survived to tell the tale, much less share amusing anecdotes with an online community of readers! The notion of individual responsibility is a very interesting one here, I find, because many things are viewed as being out of our realm of responsibility: if Allah wills it otherwise, things will not go according to plan, period. Therefore the Arabic phrase “inshallah” is used whenever any reference to the future is made: “See you tomorrow, inshallah.” “Meet you at the restaurant Saturday at 6. Hopefully it won’t be too hot, inshallah.” So the student might have tried to use the argument that it was Allah himself who did not want him to have his book in class, despite his own best efforts, and that might have made our exchange less clearcut. (Fortunately for me, he did not try that approach).

This reminds me that we recently as a class discussed the issue of abortion and the pro-life, pro-choice arguments raised by each side. It was difficult to get any real debate going as no one in the class felt willing to entertain the idea that such taking of a life could ever be justified, not even in extreme cases such as rape or severe genetic disorders, etc., and certainly not if a girl simply wanted to continue her education or did not feel fiscally or emotionally ready to take on the responsibility of parenthood.

As a footnote here, I should refer to a story that ran in the Guardian, about the fate of a hapless British teacher in Khartoum: “To encourage her seven-year-old pupils to learn about the animal kingdom, Gillian Gibbons asked them to find a name for a teddy bear. Unfortunately, they chose Muhammad.” This is, of course, being taken very seriously as an insult to the prophet and poor Gilly from Liverpool is now being held on charges in a Sudanese jail. (Good thing I myself am savvy enough to stick to uncontroversial topics like abortion and the death penalty).

Interestingly, the word my students used over and over again to describe the abortion option was ‘irresponsible’: according to them, if you are old enough to have sex, then you are old enough to accept any and all possible consequences, period. A child is a gift from Allah and must be accepted as such; at least put the child up for adoption if you do not feel equal to the task of raising it, they insisted. The astonishing about for me about this ‘individual responsibility’ line of argument is that it was being employed by a bunch of kids who are completely coddled at home yet can barely get it together enough to take responsibility for bringing their textbooks and homework to class. Surely, however, bringing a book to class should be an easier task to manage than raising children?!

Hopefully none of them will ever be confronted with the difficulties of an unexpected pregnancy, inshallah. Then again, such a premium is set on female virginity in this society that perhaps the risk really is minimal; my students told me just last week (though I did not want to believe them) that outside of Dakar and the bigger metropolitan areas, the ceremony of hanging the sheets up after a wedding is still performed in 2007 – if there are bloodstains (indicating that the girl has been brought up properly, with her maidenhood intact), it is a credit to both families. (As an aside, I have to wonder what the US right-to-privacy activists would have to say about this practice)?

As a fairly liberal native New Yorker, I not infrequently feel a bit like Alice down the rabbit hole and am reminded every single day anew that oui, on est en Afrique!

About the Author : Tamara-Diana Braunstein brings us her stories from Senegal every week. She was born in Brooklyn, New York. She is a restless wanderer who earned an MA from the University of Freiburg and has worked in a youth hostel in the French Alps, a law firm in Montreal, the Metropolitan Museum of Art as well as in university press publishing. At the moment her home base is Dakar, Senegal, where she is supposed to be teaching but is doing far more learning, as you will see by reading her blog at www.senegalschoolmarm.blogspot.com