April 1 - Networking, Moroccan Style

Visiting the Rabat American School was truly inspiring. I’ve long imagined what it might be like to work at an American school abroad, and there was something invigorating about finally stepping into one here in Rabat. Dr. Ken Fernandez guided us around campus, sharing the school’s mission and vision. We had the chance to sit in on classes and connect with both teachers and students, which made the experience feel especially real. I observed an Economics class and a Global Politics class, both led by impressive, engaging educators.

What struck me most was the familiarity. In many ways, it felt just like being back in a classroom in the U.S., which makes sense, of course, but there was something deeper at play. Students and teachers from all over the world were learning and growing together, building a strong, unified community despite their different backgrounds. That sense of global connection was powerful. I got to chat with students and they were all very friendly and present. One asked if I planned to teach there next year and my only reply was, "I sure hope so!"

At one point, I caught myself thinking, “This is it, this is what I want. I want to teach in a place like this.” But then came a moment of importance. These students already live within a global mindset because they’re immersed in it every day. Perhaps my role is different. Perhaps my work is needed back home, where those perspectives are still developing and where helping students build global awareness and competence can truly make an bigger impact.

The day also brought us back to Moroccan-American Commission for Educational & Cultural Exchange (MACECE, in case I haven’t explained the acronym yet) for lunch and some meaningful networking time. I connected with several Fulbright alumni—individuals educated in Morocco who had spent time in the U.S. as students or as teachers of Arabic. One especially exciting connection was with Aziz, an English teacher in Morocco who enjoys organizing video conferences with classrooms around the world. I’ve done similar exchanges with Ukrainian students, both in Ukraine and abroad, discussing their experiences during the current conflict. I’m really looking forward to collaborating with Aziz and creating opportunities for our students to explore global issues together.

Next stop: Casablanca.

March 31 - Students will be Students

Moroccan–American relations stretch back to 1777. Really, 1777! There was not yet a United States of America, and still Morocco recognized it that year, before France, Spain, Russia, the Netherlands, and Great Britain. Dr. Karim Bejjit, a professor of English and American Studies at Abdelmalek Essaâdi University in Tetouan, walked us through this remarkable history. His presentation spanned Morocco’s early recognition of the U.S., the longest unbroken treaty in U.S. history (signed in 1786, something I definitely want to dig into more), the Monroe Doctrine and European imperialism, World War II, the Cold War, and into the present day. (https://macece.ma/). 

It was also a chance for me to connect with Dr. Bejjit about his teaching and research. He has written on the U.S. presence in Morocco during World War II, something I’m excited to follow up on. I can already feel a new lesson taking shape, one that highlights Morocco’s often-overlooked importance in the Second World War. Moments like this are why we need to travel.

Next, we visited Colegio Español, (https://colegioderabat.educacion.es/en/) a Spanish international school, and it was a delight. The students were incredibly curious about these American teachers passing through. During a brief meeting with one of the faculty members, a cluster of faces began popping up in the window outside, one after another. Mr. Felix Gaspar responded with a mock scowl and shooed them away, a instantly universal teacher moment anyone in the profession would understand. Adorable.

We stepped into a class in session, where I noticed two things. First, students were studying French. I leaned over and asked one student, “Qu’est-ce que tu apprends?”==what are you learning? She showed me her notebook: they were working on the subjunctive, and her notes were some of the most beautifully organized I have ever seen (with a few creative doodles sprinkled in, of course). Second, I spotted some very explicit graffiti on the back wall so explicit I won’t repeat it here. Proof that students will be students no matter where you are in the world.

And for a bit of humor: as we were leaving, one of the teachers traveling with me spotted a group of students in the hallway and called out, “67!” Instantly, they all turned around and if you know, you know. It was a perfect, unscripted moment of connection.

The day ended with a visit to L’École Normale Supérieure, (https://ens.um5.ac.ma/) a teacher-training college. We heard from faculty, students, and even a few of my fellow travelers. What struck me most was how intentionally they prepare their teachers. Their student teachers are actually paid for the work they do in classrooms which was something that genuinely amazed me. I had to pay to student teach. Beyond that, much of their training mirrors what we do in the United States, but with a strong emphasis on the English language.

Nearly everyone we met spoke English, and when I tried to use French, they gently shifted into English. They were hungry to practice, to connect, to engage. That energy was amazing.

My biggest takeaway? My eyes are wide open. Seeing how education unfolds in different corners of the world, especially here in Morocco, has reshaped how I think about teaching. This experience hasn’t just given me ideas, it’s given me perspective, and a renewed sense of purpose for the classroom I’ll return to.

March 30 - Education System and Languages: Wampanoag and the Amazigh

I learned a great deal about the education system in Morocco and in ways that stayed with me long after the conversations ended. First and foremost, there is a law known as Framework Law 51.17, which establishes education as a legal obligation regardless of who serves as Minister of Education. I found this both striking and profound. In the United States, no such law exists. As teachers, we are often subject to the priorities of whoever is elected. Some Secretaries of Education are deeply experienced and committed to public education, while others arrive with little background in the field at all.

Perhaps that sounds a bit skeptical but it’s hard not to notice how much can shift depending on leadership. At times, there are efforts to reshape education in ways that lean more toward privatization, which in some contexts has its advantages. Still, I want to believe that those in these positions are striving to do what is best.

In Morocco, however, there is a different feeling, one that of steadiness and shared purpose. Education is a national priority, a collective commitment to preparing Moroccan youth for the opportunities and challenges of a 21st-century global economy.

And yet, like anywhere, inequities remain.

Morocco is far from linguistically uniform. Not everyone is Arab, nor does everyone speak Arabic. Many people speak Darija, a Moroccan dialect of Arabic used in daily life. There is also a vibrant cultural and linguistic community known in the West as Berber, but to Moroccans as the Amazigh. Their language is entirely distinct from Arabic, spoken by some, unfamiliar to others.

During our visit to the Royal Institute of Amazigh Culture, I witnessed something interesting a deliberate and thoughtful effort to preserve and elevate the Amazigh language. Scholars and educators have developed a standardized written system, now taught in schools and displayed on public buildings in an act rooted in equity, recognition, and cultural pride. Looking at the script (see picture), I was struck by its resemblance to Greek, though it is a phonetic alphabet with roots tracing back to Afro-Phoenician scripts. It felt both ancient and newly alive at the same time.

As I stood there, I found my thoughts drifting home. Before I continue, I am no linguist, but I couldn’t help thinking about the Wampanoag language, native to the region where I teach. Curious, I looked into whether there were efforts to preserve it and discovered the Wampanoag Language Reclamation Project, an initiative working to bring the language back to life.

While there are far fewer Wampanoag speakers in Massachusetts than Amazigh speakers in Morocco, the parallels are interesting. Across continents, communities are reaching back into history, reclaiming identity through language, and ensuring it carries forward.

What does Wampanoag look like?

“Mâach8sut.”

Massachusetts—“Land of the Great Blue Hills.”

Feeling very grateful to be able to learn all this.

March 29 – Medina All Day: A Squeeze on the Knee?

We were dropped off at Kasbah Oudaya this morning. It’s 10:30, and the weather is perfect, warm, gentle, and inviting. We’re standing above a stretch of stunning scenery, the air crisp and clear. Ahead of us lies the old Medina of Rabat, and I’m not quite sure what to expect. I’ve wandered through many “Old Towns” in my travels, but never in the Maghreb.

As we step inside, one thing immediately stands out: it’s incredibly clean, remarkably so. Our tour guide explains that Rabat’s mayor, Fatiha El Moudni, has made cleanliness a priority. I find that both impressive and refreshing, proof that even small details can reflect larger civic pride.

Walking through the Medina is a sensory experience. Merchants line the narrow streets, displaying their goods and calling out to passersby, each hoping to catch the eye of a curious traveler. I’m a bit nervous about haggling, it feels like an art I haven’t quite mastered, but I’m told it’s essential if you want the right price. Still, locals reassure us that in Rabat, fairness tends to win out anyway.

By the end of it, I’ve gathered quite the collection: a beautifully crafted Moroccan rug, a caftan, clothes for my kids, hats, and a handful of small trinkets, all at what I’m told are famous Rabat good prices. Whether or not I mastered the art of bargaining remains up for debate, but the experience alone was worth it.

Some of the other teachers decided to hop on a Tuk-Tuk tour to explore food corners of the Medina (if you’ve never seen one, it’s worth looking up, I’ll try to post a video). Before arriving in Morocco, we’d heard all the usual cautions (avoid fresh foods, watch how meals are prepared, be careful.) On this tour, we did the opposite, we threw caution to the wind and embraced it all. And I have to say, even as someone who doesn’t consider themselves a foodie, the cuisine here is outstanding. Easily some of the best I’ve ever had.

Then came one of the most unexpected moments of the day.

The Medina becomes very crowded, especially around prayer time when nearby mosques draw people in. After our Tuk-Tuk ride, we ventured back in for more shopping. It was packed, shoulder to shoulder, a sea of movement and voices. And then, out of nowhere, I felt a small squeeze on my knee, you know, right in that ticklish spot.

I froze for a second. What was that? Is this what pick-pocketing is like!?

I looked down, and there was a little girl, laughing, eyes bright with mischief. I said hello in Arabic and she said hello in, well, English. Adorable moment when you just had a security briefing in how pickpocketing is common in Morocco and you're watching your back carefully only to have this beautiful moment.

Strangely enough, that simple, fleeting moment became my favorite part of the day. To me, it captured something deeper, a child seeing a foreigner in her country, reaching out in the simplest, most human way just to say hello. No hesitation, no barriers, just friendly.

The warmth and hospitality of Morocco continue to surprise me. And sometimes, it’s the smallest gestures like a quick smile or a playful squeeze that leave the biggest impression.