No matter how many drops fall on my palm,
They instantly dry up like sand grains;
And no matter how tightly I hold them,
They permeat the pores.
A bucket I then take,
Which I put under the dripping tap.
And the minute it fills to the brim,
I plunge my hand into it; my palm gets soaked at last.No matter how many drops fall on my palm,
They instantly dry up like sand grains;
And no matter how tightly I hold them,
They permeat the pores.
A bucket I then take,
Which I put under the dripping tap.
And the minute it fills to the brim,
I plunge my hand into it; my palm gets soaked at last.
I know that if I make up my mind to learn French, I will no longer have much free time. I will have to read as many French novels as I have done in English. And I am of course ready to do that at any time. However, every time I look back on my knowledge of English, I still feel an insatiable and strong desire to read more voraciously in order to improve my writing skills more. It is something that I can not help. Up to now, I do not think I can do the same with French. I will only take this challenge only when I feel that my voice must be heard in French. Time alone will tell whether or not I will be a writer in French.
As I was one day conversing with a university teacher, I raised this topic. And to my utter surprise, he definitely agreed with me, the thing I had not expected. When I told him about the languages I spoke then, he said that I had to focus so much on one language so that I would produce something. This doesn’t necessarily mean that I should not exceed one language. One can learn many languages at the same time, but he must choose the language he is going to write in. This choice is a must, for writing needs concentration, mature efforts and great mastery.
Last summer, I had the chance to talk to Mohamed Khair Eddine’s father. Khair Eddine was a great Moroccan novelist and poet. Sartre once described this author the greatest exponent of the French language alive at the time. One of the questions I asked his father was how many languages his son used to speak. He said that he spoke Berber, his mother tongue, Arabic, and French. He added that his son mastered French so powerfully that other French famous authors like Beckett made his acquaintance. At the time, I was so curious to know the secret to his son becoming a genius among the French intelligentsia.
It was only after some time did I learn from his father that he had read voraciously mainly in French . He concentrated on one language. Thus, he succeeded in producing great literary works. Frankly speaking, I do not believe that he would have succeeded in reaching this literary position had he studied many languages simultaneously. I would say that studying many languages at the same time is favourable, but do not it take for granted that by doing so, you will one day manage to write as prominently as distinguished authors do. Fear of the latter problem is behind deciding not to write in another language.
My story with some university teachers began in 2006 when I was first taught by them. In fact, I have a great deal to say about them, particularly about their teaching methods and treatment of their students. Yet, all other aspects of their teaching career are not my concerns for the time being, for the treatment that my friends and I have received would suffice. My experience as a university student has greatly paved the way for me to become a lenient teacher, especially that I have learnt a lot from my university teachers’ injustices towards their students.
I do not necessarily mean by injustice that students got low grades or that they exerted themselves harder than normal to validate the modules. As far back as my university days are concerned, I must admit that I admired most of my ex-professors and that I loathed the rest. I do not blame the rest for not teaching us effectively, nor do I abhor them for assigning hard tasks which were demanding on us. Even though I ranked first at university, I had no choice but to leave it altogether. Forsaking it to join CPR was mainly due to a few professors.
In my second year, I had already got excellent grades. I was so glad about this achievement. With time, a new teacher of lingusitics was appointed to teach us. I can’t express in words how much I like this field. Unfortunately, the teacher did not live up to my expectations, not because he was idle or mean, but simply because he did not correct our exam papers. I also heard that he had never done. And the worse problem is that he gave good marks to those who did not deserve them. I am not saying so out of my judgement. No ! Some girls themselves told me that they were given excellent marks by him which they had never expected. They felt that their success was undeserved.
I still vividly remember when a female classmate of mine asked me incessantly for answers during the exam. She was sitting at the table behind me, and she was on the verge of weeping when I refused to give her answers. She had nothing to write on her sheet and had no other choice but to submit it blank. The teacher in question was then teaching us two subjects, Linguistics and Business Writing. He was the only teacher who did not show us our exam papers. When semester one came to an end, I was shocked to learn that the girl who begged me for answers earned the highest mark and I, the average mark. On that day, she came to me and said out of humour that I should have revised for the exam. At that very moment, I was at a loss.
Two days later, I managed to contact the teacher so as to have a look at my own exam paper. I complained to him about the injustice he did me. And he promised to bring me the paper the following day. To my dismay, he did not come. I came to university many times, but in vain. I did not know that the day I asked him for the paper was the last time I would ever see him. I went angry for many days. It was only when I received a call from the girl, telling me that she got that mark because the teacher knew her sister very well. At least, I felt quite relieved, for I at last knew the truth.
To my utter astonishment, I learnt from other students in other classes that they faced the same problem. They uttered their complaints, but like me, they received no response whatsoever. Afterwards, I made up my mind to have a close look at all the marks on the lists. I finally discovered that the marks the university teacher gave his students were symmetrical. That is, one third of the class got an excellent grade, one third, an average mark, and one third, a poor mark. It depends on what third you belong to. One had only to pray for the first third. This was the first teacher that had unfairly classified me into the second third.
The attribute that most university teachers have in common as far as their treatment of their students is concerned is that they unconsciouly choose to live in the ivory tower. Recently, I registered at Cady Ayad university. I went there a few days ago and whenever I met one of my potential teachers, he looked down on me and answered me by saying he was in a rush. Seldom have I met considerate ones. I do not really know what is wrong with our Moroccan university teachers. Anyway, there is only one lesson that I have learnt from such sorts of professors. The lesson is that I should be so cautious to grade my students fairly, to treat both girls and boys on an equal footing and to give them the benefit of the doubt all the time.
A couple of weeks had gone by when I paid a colleage of mine a visit in Tagounit, a town located on the outskirts of Zagora city. At last, I went there, for I had always wanted to borrow from him some books as he had promised me. And I soon made up my mind to explore the area as well. As soon as we had lunch, talked about some professional issues and discussed some personal subjects, he and I decided to have a walk outside the town. We went by motorcycle to the nearest village. And here began my contemplation of every single object, house and human being.
No sooner had we gone a few kilometers far from the town than I began to see many pupils coming from, and going to, the nearby school. I noticed that most of them were leading a bleak life. Their family have no stable livelihood except what they earn from selling dates each year. The village is mainly noted for the latter. As we were getting along the road, I caught a glimpse of a young pupil sitting under a tree. The satchel was between his legs, and he was folding his arms. Frankly, I did not pay any more attention to him as I regarded him as a mere pupil seeking rest or shadow under a tree.
As we moved forward, out of curiosity, I could not help casting more glances at the pupil in question. I too received some glances on his part, but his eyes were reddish and gloomy-looking ; his face, dejected and some wrinkles suddenly formed on his forehead. I that instant knew that he was a victim of a certain predicament. Anyway, Elhussein, my colleague, and I went directly to the river which was close to the school he was teaching in. We stayed there for two hours, beholding the shining river. I so much appreciated the trees which grew on the river. Standing by the riverside, it was such a real panoramic view !
I soon gave up the idea of the pupil. Only when we were turning back on our way to the town were I taken aback. I found the same pupil under another tree. This time he was standing and looking at us. Actually, I stopped to greet the pupil. Then, I began to ask him some personal questions. Though a trifle sad and introverted, the pupil at last managed to respond to nearly all my questions. The response that drew my attention most was when he said that he stayed under the tree the whole afternoon. He added it was because one of his teachers asked him to go out.
In fact, he told me that he had not brought the required notebooks their teacher asked him for. He added that last year he ranked third at school. The crux of the matter, he stressed, lied in that his father passed away a few weeks ago and as a result his family could not afford to buy him what he needed. He also told me that he frequently went on foot to school. And I was shocked to learn from him that the school he studied in was seven kilometers far from his home.
As I was in a rush, for my friend was impatiently awaiting me while talking to the pupil, I had to bid the latter goodbye. On my way to Zagora center, the question that remained on my mind for the rest of that day was how come the teacher did not have some consideration for this pupil. Perhaps, the teacher is not originally from there and had no idea how most pupils led their lives in remote villages.
I really have no idea how many pupils have already sat under those trees. But it goes without saying that many already did. Personally, as long as the pupil is not disruptive, I will never send him out. By saying so, I am not encouraging idleness on the part of pupils. I simply stress that with some pupils like the one I mentioned, attending classes with no notebooks would be better than sitting under a tree, doing nothing.
“The difference between the almost right word and the right word is really a large matter--it's the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning,” said Mark twain. First and foremost, we can never draw an analogy between the lightning bug, an insect, and the lightning, a flash in the sky. It is simply due to the fact that the features of the insect have nothing to do with those of the flash in the sky. The insect moves along the ground, eats grass, and climbs the tree leaves, while the flash in the sky is caused by electricity when it’s both rainy and windy.
The same thing can be true of words we use in everyday life to communicate with one another. Writers write articles, stories, poems, etc. to convey their messages as clearly as possible. Speakers do the same orally. However, the crust of the matter lies in whether or not we use the right words to do so. As the author said, even the almost right words will be at the expense of the message being imparted. As far as my reading experience is concerned, while reading any book or article, I continue to do so with interest until I come across some words not appropriately used. On the spot, I put it down and take another one.
Frankly, this has always been my habit. Here, it would suffice to state some instances that make me stop reading certain articles, books, comments, etc. Here are some that I have read somewhere.
1. “ many of my buddies have coaxed me to study arts because I feel that I’m that so good at them”
2.“that’s a nice shot. What can be better than shinining rivers?”
3.“I was appointed to teach by the adherence of the academy”
4.“ you are up to the challenge”
5.“ you’re so nice;”
6.“ so true! I can’t wait to read it.”
7.“ needless to say, it’s so fantastic”.
8.“there is some vitality in what you say; you’re wholly confident; my eyes are on you”
10.“ bear with the problem; or you can see the one dearer to you”
11.“that’s a really asinine topic, you have opened the doors for many of us”
12.“ get out of the dungeons of ignorance”
13.“wonderfully put together piece of writing; I just penned it while contemplating the horizon”
14.“ I dwell too much in my own thoughts”
15.“ it was not completely unexpected”
16.“it sounds as if you I don’t where I will begin”
17.“this strategy is quite inaccessible; you have opened the doors for many of us; communication with you is a piece of cake”.
18.“ By the examination of your mind machine; I’m on the alert to respond to your writings”
Each of the above examples can be understood by any reader, but are we using the right word through which we can impart our ideas with ease? I do not think so. Everyone can understand them, but they are in danger of misunderstanding the writer.
In (1), the writer is using “coax” to persuade someone to study arts. It can be the almost right word, not the right word simply because “coax” has a negative connotation, meaning persuading someone to trick another one into doing something wrong like stealing, playing a trick on people, etc. The writer thinks he has conveyed the message clearly, but unfortunately he was not using the right word to do so. When I read it, I thought studying arts is something tricky and must not be done.
In (3), though I understand that this person was appointed by the academy, I am still confused as to what he meant by “adherence”. What kind of appointment is it? I really have no idea. In (7), from time to time, we writers use this fixed expression, but I personally don’t feel like using it whatsoever. It’s an empty expression for me. Why did the writer say “fantastic” when it is needless to say so? This is sheer contradiction.
I do not need to write critically of each sentence simply because the writer himself can do so if he really reconsiders them and peruses them painstakingly. Suffice it to say that some of us are not acutely aware of the importance of the right word. Only when do we have our writings misunderstood or explained wrongly by the reader do we come to know its significance.
If my memory serves me rightly, I would say that I belonged to the second for a very short time and then went on to belong to the first group for the rest of my life. As a middle school student, I used to claim to accomplish things. I would tell my parents that I did well at school. I would tell my classmates that I did well in the quizzes I sat for and I even showed them my grades. However, with time, I sooner or later had to belong to the first group. I would attribute this sudden change to my maturity. To my surprise, most students still belong to the second group.
I still vividly remember this when I was a university student. We all sat for countless exams then, but the thing that differentiated one from another was the fact that some of us chose to reveal what they wrote on the exam paper, while others chose to keep their leaps sealed until the markes were given to us. If someone accomplish things confidently, inside he feels it needless to say it to others. As for others who claim to accomplish things, they have to say it to their peers, for they are not confident enough about their work.
Let us draw an analogy between the two groups from the psychological point of view. The fact that those who claim to accomplish things do not do well in their academic life, while those who accomplish things without claiming do really well can be explained in this manner : because of their weakness or incompetence, some university students feel compelled to say whatever they do in class to other students either to show off or to confirm that they too are great. As for the other group, provided that they have already done well, they see no point in explaining every single question or answer.
Recently, as I was making for my class, I heard a teacher complaing of a sore throat to the headmaster. I stopped to say hello to both. And when the headmaster enquired why, the teacher replied that it was because he talked a lot in class and explained things for so long. I am sorry to say that I had to burst into laughter when I heard that. But I tried hard not to show it. A few weeks later, the same teacher came again one day, complaining to one of the administrators that time did not suffice him to complete all the lessons. I really have no idea why he claimed to have accomplished all these trivial things in his class.
One day, on the bus, some teachers and I were discussing certain things about the educational system. Out of the blue, a teacher of Arabic intervened to say that the report he had lately written on the level of his students won the first prize. Worse, he began to get into the details of it. I couldn’t stand it. Everyone has the right to claim to me what he accomplishes but only when I enquire about it.
Thus far, I have had the chance to attend some pedagogical meetings and sessions ranging from MATE (Moroccan Association of Teachers of English) to the sessions organized at university. I must admit that I learnt so many things from them and have somewhat developed my teaching skills just because of them. When I was a student, I also learnt many things from the meetings held at school. However, to my dismay, I have found out that most of these meetings have one attribute in common. The latter is that birds of a feather flock together.
To begin with, I remember once attending a conference on translation at university. Thanks to it, I learnt some basics about this field. As soon as the conference came to an end, discussion began. Here, I noticed that most of those who posed questions were simply colleagues and friends of the presenters. And when a colleague of mine raised his hand to pose a question, no one paid attention to him. I believe it was simply because he was not a bird of the same feather.
The fact that when the coffee break came and the presenters and those who posed questions sat around the same table confirmed that they were really among the birds in question. Frankly, I do not see any point in sitting with those one already knows. Sitting with others from different universities and places helps us broaden our knowledge. Also, how can one share and exchange with others if we do not make others’ acquaintance and try to share the same table but with different members?
The same problem brings me back to last year when I attended a Mate meeting. I liked everything about it except the fact that birds of a feather flock together there too. Before the conference started, we were all asked to get membership cards, the thing we did. Afterwards, we were each offered a pen and a notepad to write on. One of my colleagues came late that day and got into the conference room and asked me for a pen. I had to give it to him, and I used a pencil instead.
When the coffee break came, I went to ask for another pen. It was here when the one in charge of pens and notepads went angry at me. I explained everything to him, but he refused to give me another one. Here, I thought that had I been one of the eminent members of that association, I would have got as many as pens as I wanted. I then understood that I was a simple teacher whom no one knew there. I was also understanding, for that person might even have mistaken me for a student. For him, students are birds who have a different feather.
Most of those present chose to have lunch with those they know and with those who have the same tastes. And if you happen to sit with them, no one talked to you or seemed to share with you his teaching experiences. The same thing is the case when the time of taking photos comes. Some group photos include only the members and no outsiders.Broaching on this doesn’t mean uttering complaints. It rather means describing them as mere birds that flock together because of the feather they have in common.
As a teacher trainee, I could not stand some of the trainers just because of this. They do not listen to their trainees’ viewpoints. Unfortunately, some of them behave so, for they think that trainees are merely trainees. The latter’s voice is not something special and is not worth being considered.
At last, I have come to the conclusion that the meetings where people are expected to make new acquaintances, exchange experiences, and stand together against the problems their field faces have turned out to be the melting point where only birds that have the same feather have to come to the fore.
Now that I have turned twenty-four and that I celebrated my twenty-fourth birthday the other day, I can not help reminiscing about my childhood days. Though still young, I feel that I am getting older day after day. I might well attribute this strange feeling to the remarkable changes I have undergone all these years. In reality, I am no longer the person I used to be fourteen years ago, nor was I then the person I am today. Completely different personalities, actually!
It was in 1994 when I entered school; I was seven then. The first thing I was amazed by when I first entered my class were the posters hung on the classroom wall. I would say that they sum up my past life and the one I am currently leading. I quite vividly remember some of the posters. Whenever my teacher asked us to write down the lesson, from time to time I cast some glances at the pictures in the posters. I so much appreciated them and beholded them with every awe.
The first one to the right was quite gloomy-looking. In it, there was a red bus with passengers inside and a new pupil outside holding a satchel on his back hurrying up and talking to the bus driver. At the time, I had no idea what a bus was for, nor did I know why the new pupil appeared to be in a rush. Suffice it to say that I enjoyed the scene. Like any of my fellows, I was a fair pupil. I raised my hand when the teacher asked us simple questions, but at other times I just kept staring at the poster in admiration.
Only later on did I know that the new pupil was going to be me, no one else, for I was the only one in my village to pursue my studies. Owing to poverty, some travelled to different cities to work and help their family. I also wanted to do the same then, but no one offered me work. Others travelled abroad because they were born with a silver spoon in their mouth. I felt so sad to see my ex-fellow pupils leaving me one by one. After a certain period of time, I had to enter secondary school and took the bus with new pupils from other villages.
In the second poster to the left, there was a city made of glass with different lights ranging from green to red. So many times did I hear of a city, but I had never visited one by the time. Though I was born in Tangiers, I don’t remember it so accurately to know what it was like. Meanwhile, my mother recounted to me the important places, streets and markets there. At first, I thought that once I graduated, I would work in the village like any other bricklayer or mason. That is why I did not make a fuss about visiting a city.
As soon as I earned my Baccalaureate degree, my family moved to El Jadida. Only then did I know that the city in the picture was merely going to be El Jadida. In the latter, I spent indelible moments, studied at the faculty there, graduated from it, and became a teacher at the age of twenty-two. Notwithstanding, I still look back on the other posters on the class wall and try to rack my brains to remember them all, but in vain. I have looked forward to the posters describing the position of teacher and writer, but I failed to remember them.
To my utter dismay, last summer, I paid the school a visit, peered into the broken windows for long, and found that all the posters had peeled off a long time ago and that new ones have supplanted them. I went forlorn and while clenching the bars of the window out of fury, someone patted my shoulder. I looked around only to find a ten-year-old boy smiling at me and asking me about the posters.
“Hi Sir! What do you think of the posters we drew this year?”
“ Wow, they’re really amazing ; great job !” I said.
I went home immediately and from that time onwards, I felt gladder than before simply because there is still a pupil who takes a keen interest in the posters hung on the class wall. I am certain that one day this ten-year-old pupil will sooner or later be in dire need of them so as to contemplate how he once lived.
Gone are the days when most of us thought that the best teacher in a school was the one who talked too much in class, whereas now it is universally agreed that the best teacher is the one who talks less in class and who instead gives the students the chance to speak more. Speaking should then be typical of learners rather than language practitioners while teaching. However, from time to time, I hear some teachers in their classes talking all the time, and seldom do they let their students speak.
Perhaps, they do so to show of their linguistic capabilities in front of both their students and their colleagues in other classes. I still vividly remember once reading a quote by one of my favourite philosophers, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, which runs thus: “People who know little are usually great talkers, while men who know much say little.” This is what we call a paradox, something contradictory at first sight, but when we look back closely at it, we find that it is really true.
The fact that people who know too much talk little and those who know little talk much is due to several reasons. One of the latter is that those who know much feel that what they know is not necessary to say and thus desist from saying it. For instance, a writer may not tell you when to use punctuation marks unless you ask him simply because he has gone beyond this stage and feels that there is no use in explaining. He who knows much thinks that other people know the same as he does and believes that there is no point is repeating what he knows.
On the other hand, those who know little have to talk greatly, for they have to say something they have just learned. We all know that learning something new makes us so excited about it and induces us to seek every opportunity just to say it. It is the very case with great talkers. This, of course, brings me back to my university days when some of my ex-classmates talked all the time in class, but they rarely said something meaningful, precise and to the point. Afterwards, I discovered that they did so poorly in the exams they sat for which confirmed that their talking was merely a sign of little learning.
I would stress that I am not generalizing here; rather I am talking about the majority of little talkers and great talkers. Most importantly, a well-informed man of course speaks about his opinions, but he doesn’t do so as greatly as does an ignorant man. This disproportion is attributed to the fact that a well-informed man has so much to say and then holds his tongue because he very well knows that no matter how much he broaches on a certain issue, he will not say something which is everything it should be.
As regards an ignorant man, he thinks that all that he knows is so important and as a result begins to impart it to anybody he meets. The man in question can be likened to a poor man who has just won a lottery. If the latter doesn’t inform all people that he has become rich, he will not be able to sleep peacefully that night. However, a rich man doesn’t need to inform people of his social status either because he has become so out of his constant efforts or because he is already born with a sliver spoon in his mouth.
In 2004 and 2005, as a high school student, I had the chance to be taught by two different teachers of French in the respective academic years. The first one was a plain-looking, modest teacher. The second one was an insolent, great talker. The difference between the two is that we learned a lot from the former who taught us French lessons in a good, simple and patient manner, while we learned nothing from the latter because he talked greatly fast, insulted us for being inconsiderate, prided himself a lot on his pronunciation and his remarkable fluency, and was very impatient with our learning of the language.
However, towards the end of the academic year, we students learned that the first teacher was a writer and a poet, having been the author of nearly 10 books. The teacher in question gave those who excelled in French that year some of his books without even mentioning that it was he who wrote them. We only knew that when we saw his name written on the books cover. As for the second teacher, he was a mere braggart who never produced something in the language he ‘taught’ us. Later on, we even learned from some of his ex-classmates at university that he used to be such an inveterate cheater.
Day after day, I learn more and more about life, and the lesson that I have learnt these days is that most great talkers are merely braggarts and creepers, while little talkers are wise, modest, and knowledgeable. As the saying goes, still waters are deep. Or as Edgar Allan Poe once described a genius as someone who shudders at incompleteness and usually prefers silence to saying something which is not everything it should be. Following is the poem that I once wrote about the topic in question.
The Pencil Sharpener
I took a pencil that I have sharpened for years,
Put it to use,
But has produced nothing of use;
Only my days it often sears.
Enraged, I broke it
As it was about to end;
I took a new and longer one
I sharpened it once;
The pencil, still sharp
While I keep using it up,
At this stage,
My spirit has never aged.
Why do I stand in awe in your presence?
Perhaps, I just feel transfixed as you soar;
Give me the chance to learn more of your lore.
O star! the uncharted lands you lit, hence;
Fill me with the fuel to forsake the current land
Surely, you are the last star, so lend me a hand.
A long time ago, I used to write only articles and sometimes short stories. But I never thought of writing poems one day even though I had so much cherished this genre of writing more than any other kind. Only when I read “a Bird Came down the Walk” by Emily Dickinson and enjoyed it so much did I make my mind to join poetry and write poems like any other poet. Since then, I have always taken the greatest delight in doing so. At first, I was told by my professors that writing poems is so demanding a task and needs more life experiences and wide travelling than we think. However, having read Dickinson many times has totally changed this misconception and ultimately led me to take the initiative.
The poem has become a turning point in my literary life. Here, I will try to interpret it line by line. We all know that Dickinson as a poetess was known to have been reclusive and home-ridden. My point here is that contrary to popular belief, we do not need many experiences or to travel the world to become poets. All that we are in need of is to develop a keen observation of any object, and fortunately no one can deny that everyone has got a certain amount of it.
Alone, the poetess in question once sat alone beholding different things out of her window. All of a sudden, she saw a little bird coming down the walk next to her house. Not having any contact with people and not travelling the world before, Dickinson usually seized such opportunities so as to write a new poem on the scene being observed. She was always in dire need of the material and despite that she always came up with really fine poems.
Amongst her best poems is this one here. The fact that she was able to write poems without any previous experiences is living proof that anyone can write poems on condition that he or she observes anything keenly enough. Also, reading widely was of paramount important to her writing career as a poetess. Some people might think that life experiences are a must in order to write fine poems. For me, wide reading in any language and keen observation would suffice. Then, through poetry, anyone can openly express himself about different aspects of life. This is why I have so far written mainly poems.
Coming back to how the poetess imparted crucial aspects of nature and life just through a little bird, she described every single step of the latter. In the poem, the bird perched on the ground, looked both sides to ensure he was safe, ate a worm, and drank some dew drops. Then, a beetle was passing by him; the bird immediately gave the beetle some space to pass with ease. Here, we come to know how small animals and insects lead their own lives and whether they respect each other or not. Of course, the poetess is alluding to us human beings who should respect one another and live and let live as the saying goes.
Observing the manner in which she wrote a poem on a very appealing theme” that of the bird with the worm and the beetle”, I was inspired and spurred on to do the same. There are many living organisms like a moth, a fly, or mosquito that we come across on a regular basis, but seldom do they attract attention to us. Since I read this poem, everything has begun to enthrall me. One day, I wrote two poems. One is entitled ‘the moth’ and another one, ‘the bird’. Of course, I took pains to write them because I related them to my personal life.
Different motives were behind putting pen to paper when I chose the moth and the bird as the themes. The first one was whilst reading and a moth was fluttering its wings against the light bulb. My concentration was exacerbated by that behavior to the extreme. Here, I am hinting at people who cause me or other novice writers in one way or another to abandon the reading pursuit. As for the birds, they perched on my windowpane serving as spies to take back my latest news to others. I did not welcome them either. For me, they are simply amongst my regular guests who pay me visits from time to time just to see how my room furniture is laid.
In Dickinson’s poem, the bird took fright when he heard her. She wanted to feed him with a crumb, but he shook his feathers, carefree and conceited and flew off on the spot. He was the only solace to her for a very short time, but she learnt a great deal from him. In the same way, I believe that we do not need to go abroad to attend poetry workshops or to study it at university to be great poets. One has only to read widely to master a language and start to write on everything, be it a human being, an animal, or living organisms in general; the latter teach us many moral lessons about their lives and our own.
Towards the end of the poem, the poetess discovered a queer fact about the bird. The latter is capable of flying over the water without making any splashes or noise. Afterwards, she added that when rowing in the water, he is totally different from oars and butterfly leaps in that the latter make so much noise which may disturb her creativity. What a vivid description! What a keen sensation of the movements of a flying bird! I must admit that this is mainly the point at which and where I fell passionately in love with poetry.
One of my friends once told me that eminent scientists and writers like Albert Einstein and Leo Tolstoy are born great, and as a result, I do not have to draw an analogy between them and other ordinary people. He said so to me soon after I told him that I also write articles and that other friends of mine publish their works in national newspapers and international websites.
He disagreed by saying that we ordinary people are different from these great people in that the latter are exceptions. I would say that we are surely different from them in that they have attained greatness, the thing which we haven’t yet attained ourselves. However, the fact that neither we ordinary people nor they eminent people are born great is indubitably true.
In reality, the numerous failures and excruciating experiences that these scientists underwent in their lifetime is living proof that they are not born great. Another reason is that had they been born great, they would have encountered all the stumbling blocks with remarkable ease. As we look back on their lives more closely, we, however, find that it is they who achieved greatness through constant persistence, everyday struggle with life problems, and trusting oneself. Most importantly, some of them even have more serious disabilities than ordinary people. By setting themselves that challenge, they sooner or later realize their aims. Once they do so, we ordinary people attribute their success to being born great.
I am certain that many people have already heard of Helen Keller, an American outspoken lecturer and author. Before reading about her life as a young woman, one might think that she must have been born great so as to be the author of nearly 12 books including her famous autobiography, the Story of my Life. The author in question was a victim of three handicaps: deafness, dumbness and blindness. Is the greatness we are talking about here mainly due to going deaf or blind? Certainly not. Had it been for well-being and good health, others would have at least done like her. However, the contrary is the case. Rather, her willingness to overcome her complexes has made her what she is today, an inspiring icon the world over.
The other day, a freshman complained to me that he had difficulty studying and writing in English. When I enquired about the why, he said that he is simply amongst those who do not have a flair for languages. At first, I did not get what he wanted to say. But, later on, I knew that it is this false idea he had in mind which made him reluctant to experience the challenge. Also, when I was young, I had some problems learning French, but as soon as I became acquainted with English, I didn’t have any difficulty learning the latter. This means that it was not because of lacking greatness that I was bad at French, but because either I wasn’t taught properly or I was not in interested in the subject. If I carried on believing that most people are bad at foreign languages, I would not have learned English at all.
More importantly, thinking that some people are born great is itself discouraging and uninspiring. How can people become great if they still keep the idea that only the elite few are endowed with the ability to achieve greatness? And how are students going to become great in their lives if their teachers are instilling in them that only few people like Einstein are endowed with genius at birth? For me, this is mainly what has greatly hindered many of us from thinking creatively, inventing new things, and daring to explore the uncharted ‘lands’.
Instead, I would choose Charles Darwin as the prime example of someone whom many think he is born great. If he had really been so, why did his father mortify him many times as somebody who only cared for shooting dogs and catching rats? He was also known to have been a disgrace to his father. We can see, however, that towards the end of his life, he had turned himself into one of the most revolutionary naturalist scientists of all time. Is it because he was born great that he had become what he was at the time? I do not think so. The fact that, like many others, he made of himself great on his own late in life is living proof that no one is born great.
Born with a silver spoon in my mouth;
Who carried the handbag?
And where? North or South?
I could hardly tell no matter what the time lag;
Wont to much darkness,
I once decided to depart
To where there was no harness,
And where I would draw my own cart.It was a mere hag, weary but steady,
Drawing her olden spouse, grateful but doleful;
For remarks, bystanders were once again ready,
But their passion never subsided; they remained hopeful.
Suddenly, rain began to fall on the needy;
Out of the window, the fortunate took a coffee cupful;
In public, the couple alone turned into running, shiny water, never ending.
No matter how hard I dust,
It is dying unceasingly of rust;
Drops of blood on a blank paper
Make the pen dry and my legs caper.
A scythe into my hand to sow
the falling stars which turn sour;
As I stand and bow,
the last star tramped me for an hour;
I then begin to behold a new starless sky,
Alone, I question the harvest,
Alone and with no one to vie
to continue the quest.
Many people including authors, philosophers, teachers, scientists, language practitioners , etc. have differed as to what to do so as to master a certain field of knowledge in the most appropriate way possible. Some people have chosen to know something about everything, whereas others go on to believe that it is better to know everything about something. Each group has provided their proofs, but the fact that we are not completely certain which strategy is more effective remains questionable generation after generation. Personally, I would go for the second strategy, that of knowing everything about something. Of course, this strategy is almost impossible to put into practice. However, I would rather try to know everything about something than to know something about everything, and this is mainly due to several reasons.
To begin with, I am not against those who try to know something about everything. On the contrary, I encourage them to pursue that path, for this strategy is also effective. But for me, I always do my utmost to know everything about something even though it is so demanding on me. As a teacher and a writer in English, before attaining these positions, I have tried to know everything about my subject-matter. In this way, I will be able to teach and write effectively. Let us look at the other way around. Had I known something about English as my major, something about Arabic, something about French, I do not think I would have been able to write in English or teach in the same language.
Here, it is true that whenever I am asked about something in English, Arabic or French, I will then be ready to answer. But am I going to use one of these subjects as effectively as when I know almost everything about them? Of course not. It is simply owing to my average knowledge. However, the case is different when one knows everything about a certain field. One becomes self-confident, productive, and is always on the defensive when asked to react to a certain problem.
A jack of all trades is master at none, some say. I definitely agree. As I have experienced, many of my ex-classmates, ex-colleagues and ex-teachers know a little about different subjects. And my ex-classmates would get fair grades at nearly all the subjects. But, towards the end of their high schooling, they were hesitant about the subject they were going to major in. they were afraid they were not competent enough in a certain subject. And when they go to university, they find difficulty adapting to their profound studies. For me, it is what one can do with his major that is far more important, not what he simply knows. Certainly, one can not do anything sufficiently well unless he fully knows the ins and outs of his or her major.
I have to stress that I am not against knowing something about everything. I am simply in favour of the other way around even though none is the ultimate solution. Frankly, the latter, I believe, would be to try to know everything about something and at the same time something about everything. For me, I would suggest that one should master his field to the fullest first, then move on to know something about other fields. Unlike what some students do nowadays, they feel so enthusiastic about different fields and thus begin to learn a little from each one. They might think they are doing a good a job. And it was only after some time do they discover that it has been only a waste of time, for they will sooner or later feel that they are not competent enough to broach on a certain field as adequately as possible.
Notwithstanding, I strongly believe that one becomes a poet because he is so immersed and well-versed in poetry, that one becomes a teacher because he has concentrated mainly in teaching, and that one becomes a philosopher because he has already read countless philosophical works. But seldom do I hear of people becoming savants just because they know something about everything. It rather because they know every single fact about their subject matter that they dare to write on it and give their views confidently and eloquently.
Of course, it might be useful for ordinary people to know something about everything. Here, I mean by ordinary people those who are not interested in adding something new to different universal fields of knowledge. For instance, people who only take delight in reading poems do not have to know everything about poetry. So, it depends on one’s intent. Since there are various arguments as to what is a more effective approach to seeking knowledge, I would simply have to agree with Thomas Hardy when he advised trying to know everything about something and at the same time something about everything. One has only to do his utmost to put the latter outcome into practice.
A few days ago, as I was discussing with a colleague of mine, a teacher of Arabic and a B.A. holder, their latest strike, he said that they were calling for a promotion for their B.A. To be honest, I really sympathized with them, for they have every right to be promoted. However, to my utter astonishment, he added that unlike us DEUG holders, they are more experienced, more academically mature, and more knowledgeable. I asked him to repeat what he had just said to make sure whether he really meant it or not. He reiterated that compared to our DEUG, a first university degree, a B.A is a sign of competence, experience, maturity and knowledge. ‘That is why we have to be promoted and rewarded for our work,’ he said.
Instantly, I began to argue with him so as to convince him that DEUG holders are also competent, if not more competent than B.A. holders. Frankly, I failed to convince him, not because I did not have the proofs to prove him wrong, but because I think he is amongst other B.A. holders who have that fixed, unjustified idea of being more experienced and competent than holders of DEUG. Because of his stubbornness and out of my self-confidence about my arguments, I chose not to carry on the discussion. Below are several reasons why his statement is not always true.
First, the fact that many of my ex-classmates and ex-friends did not succeed when they sat for the entrance exam to CPR, while others succeeded is living proof that the former are more competent than the latter. Here, the former, because of their failure, have the chance to pursue their studies soon after they get their DEUG, whereas the latter, because of their success, go immediately to the training center to become middle school teachers. Second, recent studies show that most of B.A holders who are in ENS are those who failed the entrance exam to CPR. And those who succeeded in the latter are simply the ones who will not have the chance to continue their studies.
Third, ENS is a teacher training center where high school teachers graduate, and CPR is where middle school teachers graduate. To my knowledge, this has been the case for many years now. I am not suggesting that ENS graduates are less competent, nor am I favouring CPR graduates. Rather, I am simply explaining that CPR graduates or DEUG holders are not necessarily less competent in comparison with the other category. No way for drawing an analogy!
Fourth, CPR graduates are known to get the highest grades at the faculty. That is why they seize any opportunity they are offered. And it is also because they are afraid they might lose the chance that strikes once. Getting high grades enthuses them with a willingness to land any professional job. However, some ENS applicants didn’t get the grades that would qualify them to apply for CPR, the first chance. That is why they have to wait with bated breath for the second chance, ENS.
In fact, high grades are most of the time a criterion of success, and being the first one to be offered a chance to become a teacher too is usually a sign of competence. Hence, this colleague of mine should not have mistaken our first chance to become teachers for immaturity and lack of experience. We have become what we are today because of our diligence and early success. And it is a grave mistake to think that the more years one spends at university, the more experienced and competent he or she becomes.
Fifth and for the sake of clarity, I would like to stress that those who forgo the first chance in order to attain the second chance are few and far between. I deem this category an exception here. In this case, the colleague in question was amongst those who spent their university days validating modules only averagely until he was at last called on to sit for the entrance exam. By the time, fortunately for him, he had already got his B.A.
Sixth, I do not think he has to blame me for being a DEUG holder, for I am completely certain that had he too got high grades in his first years at the faculty, he would have undoubtedly joined CPR with his first university degree, DEUG. But his average marks did not allow him to do so until he got his B.A., the diploma on which he now prides himself.
Lastly, as I have experienced, I have come to the conclusion that most DEUG holders master their specialty ‘perfectly’, but not all B.A. holders do, that most DEUG holders ranked first or second at university, but not all B.A. holders do, and that most DEUG holders are approved of as great speakers and writers by their professors, but not all B.A. holders are.
We all know that cheating is an action typical only of students, but to say that some teachers too cheat is contrary to popular belief. My latest conclusion that teachers too cheat dates back to my university days when some of my ex-classmates, now teachers, had recourse to cheating all the time. Though they were students at the time, I would deem them teachers who are also cheaters. It is because they are ready at any time to cheat again in their teaching career in case they are offered the opportunity to. What makes me even more spellbound is to hear that these teachers closely invigilate the students they teach. Here, no one can deny that it is so hypocritical of them to do so.
I still vividly remember the manner in which my ex-classmates cheated. Some used to ask their fellow students they sat next to ; some begged me for responses to the questions posed ; some, mainly girls, turned into creepers on the day of the exam ; some brought the essays they wrote at ease at home to class ; and some cheat by bringing with them the prompts they need to get an essay started, and strangely the latter think that this is not part of cheating. It is a pity that some of these people are now teachers. And sooner or later they are going to invigilate their students and turn their back on their past cheating experiences. They are real schizophrenics.
Actually, I am not broaching on cheating for its sake. I am rather hinting at the implications of these teachers’ past cheating experiences on their academic life and teaching career. When I was a teacher trainee, some of my fellow trainees too cheated so as to graduate. And when I became a teacher, I found that some teachers feel compelled to cheat at some exams which will entitle them to be promoted. Strangely enough, every time I discuss the matter with one of the teachers concerned, he or she would intervene to say that their case is different from that of their students. ‘Our students still have to prepare for their future ; they need to be tested and invigilated again and again, while for us, we have attained our goal,’ one of them said.
Thus far, I am still at a daze whenever I remember this teacher’s viewpoint. I believe that he forgets that his goal is not only confined to teaching, but also to serving as a model and to preparing himself too for the future where he should contribute something to their students’ lives and to the community at large. How can an ex-cheater become an active contributor and how can an ex-cheater teach something he himself did not learn, but rather used a means to an end ? Certainly, none of them can. Recently, one teacher told me that he had to cheat at pedagogy, for he was not taught or trained in that field. If this was a real excuse, he should also allow the students who were absent from his class to cheat.
No matter what sorts of excuses and pretexts they give to defend themselves, I will always attribute this inveterate addiction to cheating to their experiences at university. I swear to God that had I been in their shoes, I would have allowed my students to cheat too simply because if I do not, it would be hypocritical of me. Most importantly, these teachers do not often master their subject matter as it should be. If my memory serves me rightly, one of my fellow ex-trainee once told me that she seldom cheated as a university student, except at grammar.
At first, I pretended not to pay attention to her previous cheating at grammar. After a certain period of time at the center, she showed me an essay that she wrote and which I began to read from start to finish. I really enjoyed her ideas and the arguments expressed in the essay, but I did not feel any cohesion as far as the sentences are concerned. I that instant discovered that she was not that adept at grammar simply because she had already cheated at it many times before. Also, towards the end of semester one, we sat for a grammar quiz, and surprisingly she did not do as well as she did at other language skills. I did not find it queer when I saw her one day having recourse to cheating at the center another time.
Sometimes, I wonder how they are going to treat their students, whether to turn their backs on their past experiences and turn over a new leaf, or to let students too indulge themselves in the pursuit. When I was a student, I used to stand in awe of all teachers, for I did not know that amongst them were those who had already gone through different cheating experiences at the faculty. However, since I became a teacher, I have fortunately come to know the ins and outs of this profession.
" Thousands of geniuses live and die undiscovered_ either by themselves or by others, " said Mark Twain. I definitely agree with this American novelist on this idea. In our everyday life, many people live and then die without even discovering that they might have been geniuses one day in their lifetime. And others very well know that their mind is tinted with genius, but unfortunately for them, other people don’t know or recognize their being geniuses. When I was a child, I had some friends who played the guitar beautifully; when I was a student, I studied with some classmates who raised their hands every time our teacher posed a question. And when I became a teacher, I found out that some of my colleagues are excellent writers. This is just to name but a few.
The bitter reality that we daily face is that the people I have been talking about do not continue their way towards becoming geniuses for some reason or other. The main stumbling blocks are poverty, family problems, indifference on the part of teachers, etc. I had a friend who left for South Africa simply because he was forced by his family. This friend ranked second at university and his mastery of English is exceptionally good. However, before arriving in South Africa, he was shocked to find out that his B.A. degree had been stolen. From that time on, he lost hope and became despondent about his future.
His remarkable timidity too prevented him from applying for the position of teacher. When I was with him, I used to read some of his amazing articles and poems. Really unputdownable works! So few of his acquaintances and friends showed interest in his creativity. Now he is working in a hotel in South Africa. The other day, he gave me a call to tell me that he had turned over a new leaf and began to make money. Concerning his much cherished pursuits, reading and writing, he added that he gave up them altogether and said that he and his family needed financial support.
I was so sad to hear all these incidents that befell this close friend. During our university days, we promised each other that we would one day do post-graduate studies together. I can describe this friend as the genius who lived undiscovered by others alone. To my consternation, I learned from him later on that he would not come back to Morocco until he made enough money to set up a business in his native country, he said. I was that instant certain that all his hopes were dashed and that the only goal left for him was to start a family and settle down. And that was exactly what he said he would do once he returned.
Fouad is another friend of mine who was a painter and a sculptor. I always pay him visits in his workshop. I was transfixed by his amazing paintings which describe almost every aspect of nature and life, such as rivers, cascades, trees, limp beings, sight and hearing loss, to name but a few. I still remember that whenever I raised a topic, he would indirectly reply to me by painting a picture illustrating my ideas. For instance, I mentioned “ latent geniuses ” to him one day, and after some time, I saw a drawing hung on his house corridor illustrating a brick-layered floor. Some of the red bricks are peeling off, changing their colour. The mystery to me here is that some spots began to appear blackish and others whitish.
The calamity that befell Fouad was that he was once visited by a wealthy ex-neighbour who lived abroad. the latter suggested that Fouad give him all the paintings and drawings so as to publicise them in a foreign country. This, he told him, would bring him acclaim and fame. For seven years now, poor Fouad, had not heard anything from the wealthy man. Because he had naively confided in that man, he was no longer keen on, or fond of, painting and sculpturing. He lately got married to a young girl. The latter sometimes by mistake throw away his new attempts at this art. This added to his despondency and later on resulted in complete, definite withdrawal from this pursuit.
I might well describe this friend as a genius who lived undiscovered by both himself and others. Had he discovered the genius inside him, he would not have stopped painting and sculpturing. This brings me back to another friend of mine who disowned writing in English to become a primary school teacher of Arabic and French. It was my professors’ fault, he said to me when I enquired why he abandoned his speciality and chose another one. This friend used to publish fine articles in a English-language newspaper, but when he joined the training center, he stopped doing so.
The fact that he was married did not allow him to attend classes on a regular basis. And surprisingly, he most of the time got excellent grades. However, in his second year, there were some professors who deemed class attendance a must. And as a result, they gave him very low grades, not because he deserved them, but because these professors were too indolent to correct the exam papers. They thought that class attendance and participation would suffice. Because of this misfortune, he had no choice but to become a primary school teacher. He admitted that he unconsciously abandoned English, the language he used to write in and that it was too late to brush up on it.
This man is also amongst geniuses who once lived undiscovered mainly by himself. It is a real pity that these people’s likes are countless. And the crux of the matter lies in that they are undiscovered either by themselves or by others. Here is a poem I once wrote about the same topic.
The Footsteps
Hooves tramping
Through the bushes they made their way;
Then a neigh,
By the camping.
A starlit night,
A movement of the clatter,
Kindled a light,
And shook the border.
A slumber in the tent
Kept me alert.
An image later sent
Myself then wide awake.
When I was seven, I never knew what success meant. All I knew was that I should be approved by my teachers. And now I can see that this approval I cherished at that time was merely success. I was seeking success, but did not know what it was for, nor did I know how to seek it. And everyone at some point in his or her life has already sought success. When we were at that age, our teachers very well knew who deserved success and who did not. As pupils, we were not as aware of feeling success at the time as we are today. Here, the notion of success varies with time and age.
As I was groping for some quotes about success by Mark Twain the other day, I came across a very intriguing one which might make some of us hold our heads in awe because it may appear out of place at first. It runs thus: All you need in this life is ignorance and confidence; then success is sure. I spent some time rereading and contemplating the quote until I came up with a humble understanding of it. Of course, anyone can come up with different understandings of it.
For me, like anyone else, Mark Twain, an American novelist and short story writer, experienced failure many a time before becoming a writer during both his childhood and adulthood. And only those who have already tasted the bitterness of failure can tell you what success really means and how you can attain it. This instantly reminds me of Emily Dickinson’s two powerful verses: “ Success is counted sweetest by those who never succeed”. However, this does not necessarily mean that you will surely arrive at success overnight.
Coming back to Mark Twain, I believe that he deems success as merely something that does not need or require efforts and assiduity so as to be achieved. Ignorance and confidence suffice in this case. I am certain that at first the meaning must sound paradoxical. However, by contemplating it more closely, we find that the fact expressed here is also a truism, especially in these days. Overnight, many people succeed in many aspects of their lives without even knowing how and why. I am not blaming anyone here for becoming successful, nor am I alluding to their undeservedness. Quite the contrary, I am only talking from the point of view of Mark twain.
Twain could simply be referring to those who obtain positions without deserving them. And the category he is talking about here are known to be ignorant and confident. This means that feigning confidence without having any knowledge of one’s field or gray matter are sufficient for making money or landing a job. Here, I could not help remembering hundreds of teachers who are hired year after year. I know many students who are knowledgeable, but not confident. As far as my experience is concerned, rarely do the latter category succeed in that they do not possess the two attributes described by Twain.
In my high school, I used to fail from time to time, but could never make out why. Now I can ascribe my failure and that of others to the above-mentioned reasons. Certainly, no one can deny that those who succeed are normally confident, but not necessarily knowledgeable. The same thing can be true of ignorant and confident people. Then , I have come to the conclusion that confidence is a mere criterion whereby success is most of the time determined. As regards ignorance and knowledge, it is surely our interviewers who are expected to opt for one of these remaining criteria along with confidence.
It is so sad to hear of people being victims of these criteria. The impact of this lies in that making an effort to attain success in life will no longer concern, or appeal to, aspiring or rather latent geniuses. While trying hard to let go of this thorny issue, I unawares came up with a simple poem touching on the same topic. It runs thus:
By the Bridge
Listen! water is permeating through the rocks
No passer-by pays any heed;
Their attention I frankly need
To figure out our lock.
A ripple I instantly made,
Lest somebody should see the difference
Alas, I was shown the same indifference;
Maybe I would rather seek some other aid.
The minute I crossed it,
Hurriedly everybody came,
Asking what had become of me
Nothing in particular, I answered.
It is merely a riddle figured.
