Day 15 - Casablanca

June 27^th, 2022: A Day of Dichotomous Divide

Today was matched with a dichotomous divide. It was almost as if we experienced day and night within the same itinerary. Upon visiting the American Arts Center, we discovered so many incredibly authentic and sincere projects to stimulate one’s creativity and engage in various topics and extracurricular opportunities to, very simply, make learning fun and effective. To bear witness to genuine efforts to provide an education to disadvantaged students, providing them new opportunities through the nexus of English language learning and interactive skills made me wonder about the last time I had seen anything on this level within the district in which I am employed. These collaborative efforts, building on partnerships with every available workshop i.e., music, poetry, yoga, DJ-ing, cinema, photography, etc. filled me with great excitement for these educators and volunteers, but even more so for the students who sit before a compassionate and hard-working staff! After listening to draconian models of the standard Moroccan education from fellow Fulbright ETAs, where learning is often filled with heightened anxieties and, I’ll say it, degrees of trauma, I cannot imagine how students perceive stark differences at the American Art Center. Their smiles and collaborative learning fill me with such joy reminding me of my conscious decisions to enter the teaching field years ago!

Following the Center’s presentations and a coffee break, we were assigned a pretty cool task that I would like to incorporate (at some point) in my own lessons. Provided with an array of school and art supplies, we were assigned to fashion our experiences here in Morocco by our most memorable and least favorite moments. Many of us immediately recognized our least favorite, most stressful and anxiety-filled memory: Covid testing. It is the dark, looming shadow that will follow us from Tangiers through the rest of the program. However, to watch all of my colleagues and newly-acquired Art Center colleagues go to town on their favorite memory was a really precious sight to see. When some of us focused on the beaches or Hercules Cave visuals, others focused on the delectable desserts, drinks, medina doors and oyster consumption! As the faculty member assembled the highs and lows of Morocco into one collage, we started to assemble stories and humanize the Moroccan journey.

This artistic endeavor was just the antidote the group needed and welcomed. It was therapeutic and an important change from the university seminars that were loaded in the first half of our itinerary. I could feel tensions easing and the collective group falling into a reflective state of mind, no matter the level of talent. Following this collage, we transitioned right into Arabic calligraphy. Another beautiful challenge, it unveiled the artists that sat among us as they meticulously scripted strokes, accents and, eventually, birth names in Arabic. Our Moroccan friends worked with many of us to try to help us script our Arabic expressions. With each stroke came a screeching sound as the calligraphy pens dried and scraped our shiny canvasses. But with all good experiences, time marches on and we needed to move onto our next seminar at the Ministry of National Education and Training.

I think it is fair to say that the cathartic seminar from the morning quickly faded as we entered the realm of the paparazzi. Already exhausted from a busy morning and a substantial lunch, constant videoing and photography, I found myself constantly shielding from being a part of this kind of life. Although many of us felt excited to be visiting a school, for me, this transitioned very quickly from a moment of excitement to feeling like we accidentally stepped into an incredibly unethical façade that quickly unraveled at the expense of children. The antithesis of our aspirations towards this school visit was riddled with glamor shots and the illusion that children were at the center of everyone’s concerns and efforts. However, by the time we climbed the stairs and entered a classroom with special education students who were already on sensory overload, I stepped outside and wanted to leave before witnessing any further inflicted harm. I guess one could say that that action alone is no different than the ostrich in the sand, but I felt incredibly disempowered. Within the tiny space of advocacy, I stepped away from the classroom to convey my disapproval and lack of interest in what unraveled.

I recognize there is a perceived prestige that accompanies certain positions in society, but when one claims to advocate for an improved education system, it appears hypocritical when they seem more concerned about personal appearances and how their photos turn out than for the mental, emotional and physical safety of precious young minds. (Particularly in higher positions with some degree of political sway). This visit served as an example of what not to do, especially for individuals who know better and pledge a civil service to protect the vulnerable. To witness an adult man, who led the paparazzi fervor, jump over a student at his desk and then force another to get out of his seat so he could lead the parade with the best frontal angles of his camera filled me with rage and disgust. I must confess that I do not fully understand every cultural taboo or faux pas; nevertheless, I can’t imagine that if those children’s parents saw this behavior, they would find it acceptable. How about the autistic student who was already on sensory overload who ended up having a meltdown by the sheer presence of looming strangers clapping and bearing down, penetrating the very spaces that were promised to be safe? These are the types of questions that very few would be willing to entertain let alone be humble enough to recognize it for what it was. Furthermore, our visit took precedence over the many parents that were waiting outside of the school, restricted from picking up their child until the charades had ended. What about the dignity of their time and agency?

In this moment, I felt many emotions, but upon my departure, I felt shame. I felt some degree of solidarity knowing that I wasn't the only one and that many of my respected colleagues were filled with utter disgust. Our shared conveyances reminded me of something really important- no matter where we are, we are always teachers in some way, shape or form. Our vocation is to serve and empower the young minds that are before us. Knowing my colleagues cared very deeply for these students and looked at this experience through a very similar lens restored my hope and faith that good will always trump evil even during the toughest and most challenging of times. So many thoughts flooded my mind and this certainly felt like a dirty business. Rather than embark on yet one more trip to the lion and eagle mural and endure endless cameras snapping photos and videos, I could have certainly gone for a scrubbing.