Extra-curricular Activities

Good teachers that I know are divided into two main categories: those who do extra-curricular work with their students at school and those who do their own 'extra-curricular' work outside the school. The former train their students on their basic skills for joining the outside world. The latter are teachers who train themselves to become greater in that they carry on reading a lot, writing every now and then, pursuing their studies, doing more research and learning new things about their subject matter. The students of the former do a very good job with the same extent as the students of the latter do. What only differs in the end is that we conclude that the former teachers die prematurely the minute they light the way for their students. With respect to the latter teachers, they still survive until they light the way, not only for their current students, but also for numerous coming generations.

I too Have Tasted Life

Like many of you, I too have tasted life. But I feel that the difference between many of you and a few people like me is that I describe many things in life as they are, not as I wish them to be. Of course, I wish many things were the other way around. But I will not lead my life based on my wishful thinking. Frankly speaking, I have been criticized for doing so, for reality astonish those who do not live it. It only relieves the tension of those who really live it. Reality, for many, is always to be avoided. I am also among those many people, but I want to write reality rather than speak it. Speaking it is another thorny issue. Talking about poverty doesn't necessarily mean that I have gone through it. The same is true of failure, pessimism, hopelessness, ugliness, etc. What I write therefore does not always address my own personality. Let us take the example of beauty of the soul as some say. Personally, I do not believe in it at all. It is true that beauty of the soul exists, but people do not marry for the sake of it. Beauty of the soul is just a result of auto-suggestion which ugly men and women can't help feeling. And I hate people who find this an excuse on the day of the proposal. Let ugly men get married to ugly women and handsome men to beautiful women. No to idealism when our life is serious! No to auto-suggestion when we ourselves are not convinced! No to shamming appreciation! No to imposing your fake principles on those who find them unnecessary in their lives! No to proposing to a beautiful girl when you yourself aren't handsome enough! No to making a girl fall in love with you unless she herself does! No to social hypocrisy if you really want to live in the fullest sense of the word!

Moroccan Reseach Papers

When I read a certain text and I that instant feel that I want to carry on reading so covetously, I know that the one behind the piece must be a good writer. The minute I taste the flow of the ideas expressed and the smooth structures of a piece, I hungrily go back and begin to read for the second or third time. I once heard that after a certain period of time, some universities frequently set fire to many research papers that B.A. holders conducted. In sincerity, I did not welcome the idea at all, and I even went on to blame these universities for having no consideration for all B.A. holders' efforts and diligence. With time, however, it turns out that I was wrong and that I should not have blamed it on universities for the simple reason that most research papers in question are not well worth preserving for coming generations. Out of curiosity, I have read many, ranging from those conducted at university to the ones conducted at teacher training centers. Most of them have one defect in common: lack of originality. Besides, what also characterizes these research papers is the alarming overuse of sentence fragments, dangling modifiers, badly-punctuated paragraphs, unbearable and meaningless diction, pompous expressions not properly used, etc. I am sorry I would not say no to burning them so as as to shun any possible contagion and also so as to put an end to this calamity.

The Procession in Honour of the Lastest King's Speech

While I was sitting at the cafe that overlooks the main street of Zagora today, on the spur of the moment, I saw a long procession and a well-organized parade with many people celebrating the latest king's speech about the new constitution and promising to vote for it in the affirmative. Many things about this celebration astounded me, actually. One of them is the large number of children who rode bicycles and motorcycles with the flags covering every side of their body. This immediately brought me back to the time when as an innocent child, I went to take part in the celebration of the visit our king was paying us then. I did not know why I was going, nor did I know what was the occasion for. Everyone in my village went to welcome the king. I was wearing some old sandals and a loose pair of jeans. Like the children I saw this afternoon, I too chanted certain instilled expressions, the meaning of which I never took to my heart. Back today's procession, many old men too took to street today, prancing and singing ecstatically. Here, I would excuse the latter for the simple reason that the majority of them did not get what the new constitution is really about and did not fully grasp the implications of it. At the time, I wished one of these aged men had come to me to explain what he had benefited from the new constitution. In the procession, there were also many women who sang and shouted at the top of their voices and in a gleeful manner. Oh, how poor they really are! If only they had instead taken to the street with the same large number to claim some basic rights for their children, like good education and health care. The remainder of the procession makes up many de luxe cars, tooting their horns. Their sides were coloured with the caption of " Yes to the new constitution". I then knew that they were the aristocratic party. Personally, I felt there was no use hearing from them, for they have not tasted the hardship Moroccans are living in day in and day out.

The Latest King's Speech

I am really in a daze. I understood from the speech delivered by the king that Moroccans have the right to vote either in the negative or in the affirmative. Since everything is crystal clear, why does the government insist on campaigning for gathering as many YES voters as possible? Why do they not let Moroccans think at their ease? What I have understood from all these campaigns is that all Moroccans must vote in the affirmative. I now feel that some of what is stated in the new constitution is already breached. The law that is now broken is that not all Moroccans are free to vote for or against the new constitution.

A Special University Teacher

Every Moroccan university is notorious for some hard university teachers who find it abnormal to have mercy on their students. Choaib Eddoukali University is one of them. In it, there is a professor who teaches Drama and who is so mean when it comes to grading. At first, you may think that this professor is doing his job by giving his students only what they deserve. But later on, I discovered that he is not. Also, the professor in question is so special in grading, and the low grades he gives his students are mostly around one, two, or three out of twenty. As for me, happily, I did not have the chance to be taught by this professor. He teaches only S5 and S6 students. Anyway, what characterizes his grading is that he penalizes students so harshly in that he subtracts 5 marks for every single spelling, grammatical and punctuation mistake. It means that if you only make four mistakes in your piece of writing, you automatically get one out of twenty. I have always heard students complaining. One day, out of curiosity, I made up my mind to attend his class for the first time. Before entering, I had already decided to judge his mastery of English. The idea that struck my mind then was that I would count the number of pronunciation mistakes he would make while delivering the lesson. Of course, this was in case he happened to make any. Meanwhile, I vowed never to attend his class if he made more than four mistakes. No longer had the first quarter of the session elapsed than he had made more than four serious pronunciation mistakes. My message to this professor is that bear in mind that real mastery of any language is not only measured by how many mistakes one makes in writing a piece, but also by how many pronunciation mistakes one makes while speaking. Lastly, I would choose to describe this professor as the blind leading the blind, nothing more.

Greed or Need

Earth provides enough to satisfy every man's need, but not every man's greed, said Mahatma Gandhi. Even at first sight, we couldn't agree more. As a child, I was too particular whenever my mother bought me something new. I incessantly complained about the colour of my clothes and that of my toys. I incessantly complained that I should dress more fashionably than my fellow villagers. And when my mother accompanied me to the market, I would hanker after everything that attracted my attention. I never took into account the price. Oh, how I made my mother suffer with my particular wishes and tastes. As an adult now, I have learned that earth, the symbol of my mother, could have provided me with anything that I needed, but not with the greedy desires I had. Now that many officials have demanded a salary rise, I hope it is their need, not their greed, that has made them take to the street. Frankly, I am not sure whether the recent, meager salary rise will solve most of the teaching staff's financial problems. I am not sure whether the rise is what they need to lead a better life or what they will get used to for a period of time and then have greed for more. We really need to satisfy our need, not our greed.

Talents Show

Last year, I was invited by a colleague of mine to attend a conference organized by MATE ( The Moroccan Association of Teachers of English). With pleasure, I attended it, and the thing that drew my attention most was the talents show that was presented by students. I entered the hall and went to have my seat at the middle row. From a distance, as the talents show began, I looked at the students from right to left and from left to right, but I could not find myself there. I mean by this that I could not find my kindred spirit there because when I was almost their age, I never had the chance to take part in such amazing shows. When I was almost their age, I did not know what a talent show was for, nor did I know how to show my talents to the audience. And it was here where I grew to abhor the stage. The talents show immediately brought me back to my schooldays when we pupils were merely invited to attend some shows and not to participate in them. The primary school I studied in was on the outskirts of Tafraout. And whenever there was a talents show, we had to go to Tafraout just to attend it. My ex-teachers never encouraged us to take the initiative. When I entered high school, I had already grown with a dislike of the stage, and even though we had the chance to participate, I never dared do that. It was only when I entered university did I give up the idea of not liking the stage. And I eventually fell in love with the stage. But it was too late, then. I wish I could have taken part in such shows as a pupil, not as a mature student or as a teacher. Back to last year's talents show, I frankly felt envious of the students' early ability to face the public and to speak their mind uninhibitedly. The ability I am talking about will surely help them confront certain stumbling blocks in life with more ease. Anyway, I would admit that I was amazed by the students' performance, and had I not been a bit older than them, I would have asked for permission to join their talents show.

I can not Love my Paternal Grandfather

I am so sorry I can not love him. You may all wonder what "him" refers to. It simply refers to my paternal grandfather. Whether you like it or not, you must all have close relatives with whom you are not on good terms. Looking back on my past days as an innocent child, I still vividly remember my mother giving my grandfather fifty dirhams every three months so that we could receive water through the taps. We had to do that as we had no other choice. As an innocent child, I condemned the act terribly, while my grandfather, a rich man, appreciated it so much. I am so sorry I can not love him. Islam has taught me to love all people whether they do me good or not. But it has not taught me to love people who have done me an injustice or who have treated me inhumanely. Frankly, I forgive my grandfather, but I am so sorry that I can not love him. I have tried to love him many times, but I failed. And I will no longer try to. Humanity inside me is merely what has made me give it a try. Anyway, he is so senile now. And when he passes away, I will attend his funeral. But I assure you that I will not be able to shed a tear. I am so sorry I can not love him. I am not going to mourn his death. Hatred engulfed my heart from all sides at the time. Since then, I have been unable to love someone like him because to sell water in that manner is deemed inhumane by everyone on earth. As a mere child, I would water the plants and give water to cats and dogs to drink, but I never asked for fifty dirhams, let alone when I would do that to human beings. I have no slightest idea whether fifty dirhams would have made of my grandfather a richer man. I am so sorry I can not love you my grandfather no matter how many times I try.

Diplomas

When I look back on my previous experiences with different sorts of people, I have come to the conclusion that not to have a certain degree and deserve it is much better than to have a degree and not deserve it. At first sight, you might find this contradictory. But, I am talking about how shameful some holders of a certain position feel inside when they have a degree which they do not deserve. It is so hard for them to approve of themselves. And it is only society which approves of them. As you know, society is infested with numerous defects and therefore it is never to be trusted. Mohamed Erraji, a Moroccan blogger and writer, has got a primary school degree. But he deserves all university degrees simply because holders of the latter can not write what he writes, can not produce in the language they major in as he can, can not play with the Arabic language as he can, and can not write on the thorny issues as he can. With respect to Ph.D and M.A. holders, I have had the chance to know a lot about them through the teacher trainers who correct their exam papers. One teacher trainer once told me that the majority of their essays are awkward and full of mistakes of different sorts from all sides. The fact that they resorted to cheating is living proof that their mastery of the subject matter is so low. By the way, I am not addressing exceptions here as my topic does not concern them for the moment. It is a real pity that our society trusts degrees. I am for degrees, but I turn to be against them the moment their holders resort to cheating. Resorting to cheating and not answering well are a sign that they do not deserve the degrees they hold. That a Ph.D holder in Arabic literature still writes an essay full of mistakes is unforgivable, particularly at a time when Mohamed Erraji, a dropout, writes as excellent writers do. All these contradictions, among many others, do not matter to me. What really matters to me and maybe to you too is that those who deserve and not have are much better than those who have and not deserve.

Competency-Based Approach

Competency-based approach described in the two textbooks, Focus and Horizons, has always been a mystery to me. I simply have no idea how some book designers are trying to put this approach into practice inspite of themselves. Whenever I move to a fluency-based activity, I can not help feeling that teachers have to apply the approach at all costs even at the expense of meaning. Some language chunks, phrases and questions make no sense whatsoever. There is no authenticity. And when one reads these books, they must feel they are reading items that have merely been translated from Arabic into English, nothing more. Some of you might react and say that it is up to the teacher to be creative in this respect and bring updated things to class. So, what is the use of textbooks then? And how about students who read those textbooks? What if they knew that their textbooks do not meet their needs or do not tap into their learning styles? Anyway, I have got many questions to pose concerning this, but this is not the opportunity to answer them all. One of the questions that drew my attention is " What are your favourite clothes?". Is this question good to ask and answer? Why don't we ask instead " What clothes do you wear when you attend a wedding, a birthday party, a meeting, etc? The latter is more communicative. You may have different favourite clothes at the same time, but it all depends on your specific favourite ones on a specific occasion. If I could ask this question, I would also pose another one about parts of the body. " What are your favourite parts of the body". This doesn't make any sense. The bottom line of all this is that some of us are endeavoring to put the approach into practice, not for the sake of preparing students for the outside world, but for the sake of practice. Oh, yes. Practice makes perfect, anyway.

Yassmina Badou

I absolutely agree with Helen Keller when she once said that it is hard to interest those who have everything in those who have nothing. When I am hungry, I think of the poor when they are looking for a loaf of bread day and night. But when I eat and get full, I no longer think of them. I find it then so hard to interest myself in their bellies because mine is no longer as empty as theirs. Frankly speaking, this happened before I grew in maturity. Now, many things in me have changed, one of which is that I have chosen to defend neglected people through writing. The topic in question brought me back to the time when I watched a video in which Yassmina Badou, the minister of health, responded to a parliamentarian who complained about the sting of poisonous insects, like scorpions, spiders, etc. The parliamentarian defended the citizens of a certain area where these insects spread, jeopardizing their lives. He called for solutions to this rampant phenomenon. In response to his queries and demands, Badou was not able to answer him, nor was she able to provide any concrete solutions. She did not even take pains to respond calmly, composedly, and confidently simply because she couldn't help bursting into hysterical laughter the moment she heard " insects". The fact that she wasted her time giggling prevented her from responding well. She giggled and laughed hysterically after hearing of people being stung by insects. Mentioning poisonous insects made her laugh. I would attribute all this to one main thing. It is the fact that she has never been stung by an insect in her life. How can we expect her to interest herself in those who are stung day after day? No one can deny that it is so hard to interest those who are not stung in those who are stung. No one can deny that it is so hard to interest those who find poisonous insects funny in those who find them a nightmare. No one can deny that it is so hard to interest those who have never come across a poisonous insect in their lives in those who find them creeping in their underwear every night. How can one expect then any cure from this so-called minister of health?

The Tie

Up to now, I still have no idea whether it is the tie that does not suit me or it is I who do not suit the tie. Or maybe, I simply feel so out of nothing. I have asked myself this question many times whenever I am on my way to a formal meeting. For me, I am not against wearing a tie with a suit. I just want to say that when I try to put it on, I instantly feel that I am no longer myself, the fact that makes me obsessed with this mundane issue. Also, when I am about to put it on, I immediately feel that I have got two personalities. One of them is the real me, and the other one is the serious, officious me. And it is at this point where these two personalities collide, preventing themselves from overlapping and coming together. There are of course times when I believe that I have to give up this silly idea, but recently I have come to the conclusion that when I look at myself in the mirror, it is the tie that does not really suit me. It does not simply because I believe it does not. I do not blame the tie itself for not suiting me. Rather, I blame myself for not suiting it. What I am aiming at here is that we do not have to blame it all the time on objects, clothing, tools, etc. It is we who make the latter appear so just as I have done with the innocent tie.

I Harshly Blame My ex-University Teachers

I harshly blame some so-called university teachers for holding the position of university teacher. I am saying so out of my experience with some of them. I am an ex-student of a grammar university teacher who still had difficulty distinguishing between the right preposition and the almost right preposition and who did not fully master the complete uses of modals and tenses. I am an ex-student of a university teacher of spoken English who could not phonetically transcribe some words accurately and who did not know where the primary and secondary stress fall. I am an ex-student of a composition university teacher who still misplaced commas and who could not differentiate among a fragment sentence, a dependent clause, dangling clauses, absolute clauses and phrases, etc. I am an ex-student of a morphosyntax university teacher who once said that 'vigor' has no verb. I am an ex-student of reading comprehension university teacher who did not know the meaning of some words in the text he brought to class. I am an ex-student of a poetry teacher who once read us "The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe, committing serious pronunciation errors while reading and who made us read it the manner she pleased. I am an ex-student of a translation university teacher who spoke Moroccan Arabic more than English in class. Anyway, some of you may write and say that all these complaints are normal. But the complaints in question have brought about fossilized mistakes on the part of a large number of new teachers. Still worse is the fact that the university teachers in question have been behind the despair of many students about their future.

An Unlucky Girl

Whenever my eyes fall on a heart-breaking scene, take it for granted that I will not hesitate to put pen to paper, particularly that this has been my habit since I first became acquainted with the passion for writing. The other day, a young girl, probably at age seven, with her shoes in shreds came to the cafe where I frequently sit and began to beg at every table. When she reached my table, I looked her up and down, examining every single aspect of her shoddy appearance. I also cast suspicious glances at her eyes. My heart instantly filled in with bitter abhorrence and hatred for her parents. I could see that she had been ill-treated and undernourished. The young girl in question is amongst the victims of sexual desire and orgasm. I harshly blame her parents for enjoying sex in bed both because they did not concern themselves so much with the coming baby and because they did not think of the implications of their making love. I harshly blame her parents for having reached orgasm and as a result of the latter for making the young girl, their daughter, suffer day and night by going to cafes and begging. Some might say that worldly concerns and conditions have been behind the current, heart-breaking situation of the young girl. But for me, it would be much better for people to die unmarried than to give birth to an unlucky and sad girl like this one. I harshly blame her parents for making this girl suffer as a result of their disgusting love-making. I harshly blame her parents for making this girl suffer as a consequence of their lust. I harshly blame her parents, for they excel at having sex, while they fail to prevent their young daughter from begging. I harshly blame her parents, for they excel at kissing each other, while they fail to educate their young daughter. I harshly blame her parents, for they die to reach orgasm, while they do not die to put an end to their daughter's predicament. I harshly blame her parents, for they are good at dating each other, while they are bad at providing the basic needs for this girl, like food and clothes. I harshly blame her parents, for they can not live without sex, while they can live on what their daughter brings them. I harshly blame her parents, for they think of getting married, while they do not think of bringing up their coming children. I harshly blame her parents, for they have spent nights, and they still do, enjoying each other, while they do not have any consideration for their daughter's feelings. I harshly blame her parents, for they complain of financial problems, while they do not complain of the calamity they have caused their daughter. I harshly blame her parents, for they sleep side by side, while their daughter sleeps alone, sick and tired of begging and walking. I harshly blame her parents, for they say that they are not responsible for the girl's fate, while their daughter carries the burden of responsibility for not bringing money. I harshly blame her parents, for they will sooner or later blame her for dating her boyfriend, while they start to forget about their own past romance. I harshly blame her parents, for they will sooner or later blame her own daughter for resorting to sex and brothels as the sole solution, while they forget that it is they who sent her to beg of men in the first place. I harshly blame her parents, for once they age and start to appear senile, they will attribute their poverty and bad luck to their daughter as though she had been behind the whole story.

The Authenticity of some Moroccan Textbooks

One of the things I scrutinize whenever I open Moroccan English-language textbooks is the authenticity of the language used. 'Gateway to English', among other books, is an example here. While reading this textbook, I did not concern myself with typing mistakes, grammar mistakes, and punctuation mistakes, for I find this normal in all textbooks no matter what the subject is. The only thing I can not forgive is when I see students internalizing fossilized mistakes. The latter have emanated from misunderstanding of some vocabulary items on the part of the book writer. The matter in question is unforgivable mainly because it is an error, not a mistake. Worse is the fact that so few high school teachers of English pay attention to it while teaching. Some of them, like the book writer, consider it correct. All this boils down to the example sentence in which ' short-sighted' as a newly-taught lexical item is used. It runs thus: 'I can not read the newspaper because I am short-sighted'. At first sight, I dare say that most of you will say that the sentence makes sense. The fact that it is grammatically correct is the reason why our attention is not drawn instantly to the grave mistake. Let us analyze the real meaning of it. By definition, a short-sighted person, like me, is someone who is unable to see distant objects, but who is able to see objects that are so near. A newspaper is paper we can read with our eyes close to it. This means that one can read any newspaper even though he or she is short-sighted. Some might say that there is no use making a fuss about this common problem in our textbooks. In response, I will simply say that we will soon have to make great efforts so as to efface all students' minds of the fossilized meaning of 'short-sighted'. I am certain it will be too late, then.

Presentations

One of my current concerns as an ex-university student and a teacher is the fact that some Moroccan university teachers and high school ones are crazy about giving presentations, attributing this to their ICT competencies and to their professional development. This willingness is great, of course. But, as a listener to these presentations, I do not like it when I feel that the presenter is presenting something for the sake of presenting it with ICT. Back to my university days, we had a teacher who always delivered his lessons by using Data Show. And there were days when this gadget broke down several times. The only thing he did was to send us out until the next session. He did so many times, which ensured me that he had to use ICT, not to facilitate the task, but to make up for his low education level. That he read what he presented word by word is living proof he had nothing to offer us in the first place. I would have excused him for sure if he had done that as a way of improving his presentational skills. I very well know that there are some readers here who hate it when I write critically of teachers, for they deem their position as noble. As a listener to the presentations, I am so sensitive to pronunciation and stress. One of my 'defects' is that I pay attention more to how the presenter pronounces all words and to what word he stresses primarily and secondarily than to the issues raised in the presentations. Some may say that the aim behind any presentation is to impart ideas, not to show pronunciation and stress. I would say that the latter are an attribute of a competent teacher and presenter. Ideas are everywhere.

Dressing Well

I have no idea why some of our officials estimate appearances so much to the extent that they start to judge people wrongly. Back to my training days as a teacher trainee, we were once told to do a medical check-up, a condition required for joining the teaching profession. When I went to see the doctor, I was wearing blue jeans, an old T-shirt and black sneakers. All trainees entered his office one by one. Some trainees with a tie and a suit on came out of his office, saying that they were told they would make good teachers. When my turn came, I entered and sat down. He immediately asked me to stand up, and he began to look at me up and down suspiciously as though I had committed a crime. His eyes frightened me so much. He also kept looking at me from right to left and from left to right before he spoke. " You don't dress as a teacher; you don't deserve to be a teacher, " he said to me crossly. Maybe, he is right. But this was in the past. Now, I have changed a lot. I made a grave mistake because I did not know that blue jeans and black sneakers can make of one a bad teacher at first sight, while the clothes he recommended to me like polished black shoes can make of one a good teacher at first sight too. Now, I am at last certain that dressing well is a sign that good teaching is taking place in class, ironically speaking.

Joining the Teaching Profession

The steps and criteria for joining the teaching profession are more challenging for CPR and ENS trainees than for M.A., Ph.D holders and some B.A. holders, like those noted for the name of "August, the third". However, once they all start their work, it turns out that those for whom it was challenging to attain the position in question start with scale 09 and 10 at most, while those for whom it was less challenging start with at least scale 11. The criteria are: distinction, pre-selection, written test, oral test and a training year. Oh, how illogical, foolish, immature, imbecile, nonsensical this disproportion is. Here, I would simply advise future university students to take it easy and not to concern themselves with graduating with distinction as it will get them nowhere at a time when graduating with only average can get them scale 11 at the very least.

Morocco

I am so sorry I can not love my home country, Morocco. This is neither treachery, nor apathy. Some say that one does not have to wait for his country to offer him something; it is rather we who are to offer the country something. But, in Morocco, we do not always get even the basic rights in return for what we offer the country. What have Moroccan teachers gained from educating numerous students when they have been beaten by police? What have Moroccan nurses and doctors gained from treating patients in hospitals when they too have been beaten by police? What have students gained from studying when the majority go jobless the moment they graduate? What have pupils gained when they commute a number of kilometers just to get to school? I am so sorry I can not love my home country when I do not get anything in return from what I offer it. I am so sorry I can not love my home country when those who claim it and govern it indulge in corruption. I am so sorry I can love my home country when those in authority still live in the ivory tower, while those whom they govern still live in shanty towns. I can not love my home country simply because "home country" here stands for the people who govern it, not the land or flag itself.

On the Day of the Proposal

On the day of the proposal, I am not sure what the girl's tastes and conditions will be like. I think I have some ideas about that as far as what I hear from my close friends and what I myself experience is concerned. Therefore, it all depends on the girl herself to know about her tastes. In case the girl is so charming and beautiful, expect that she will impose on you the fact that you too must be handsome enough. In case the girl is not beautiful, expect that she will be a bit principled and will start to tell you that beauty does not matter to her and that what really matters instead is the beauty of the soul. In case the girl is rich, expect that she will like to have a villa of her own. In case she is poor, expect that she will tell you that wealth is not indispensable for attaining happiness. In case she appreciates her grace, expect that she will tell that you when you walk with her side by side, you will have to improve your walking way so as to go a bit straight. In case she is tall, she will tell you that you have to train yourself to be a well-built man. In case she is short, she will tell you that appearances are misleading. In case she is romantic, expect that she will tell you that you have to change your way of talking. In case she is not romantic, herself she will tell you that good deeds are better than romance. In case she is intelligent, she will tell you that you have to work on your personality defects. In case she is naive, she will tell you that you are the best man for her. Now, in case you are wearing old eye-glasses like me, only a beautiful girl will ask you to change them. In case you do not walk erectly like me, only a beautiful girl will ask you to walk straight. In case you are not well-built enough like me, only a beautiful girl will ask to do some exercises. In case you are unromantic like me, only a beautiful girl will keep complaining to you to improve your talking way. In case you do not dress well like me, only a beautiful girl will keep telling you what to wear and what not to wear. Here, I think I had better get married to an ugly girl and keep myself away from all complaints. Please, I am not talking about exceptions that prove the rules here. So, no need mentioning them.

20 February Movement

No matter whatever I have heard about the 20 February movement activists, I still side with them and add my shrill voice to theirs. No matter how childish or mature they might be, I still side with them because when I read about their demands, I find that they concern me too. The moment I am convinced that talks and words do not work anymore, I can not accuse 20 February movements of any way they resort to in order to protest. If some have described them as puerile and childish, I would bow in respect for any child who is ready to take to the street to claim my basic rights. If some have described them as too hasty, I, however, have consideration for them the minute I am convinced that solving things slowly has added nothing to the lives of the grassroots. If they take to the street day in and day out, I can not blame them, for reforms have been too late. If some have criticized their way of demonstration, I would write in response that even the most brutal and inhumane means have brought real democracy to many developed countries.

Some Moroccan Preachers

I have no idea whether Morocco is really an Islamic country in the exact sense of the word, Islam. As I know, an Islamic country is where there are preachers who seize every opportunity to portray, condemn and criticize the gravest scenes happening in their country. 'Mawazin' is the festival that has hosted international singers, including Shakira. Thus far, I have not heard a Moroccan preacher speaking critically of the festival and the negative effects it has imprinted on our youth. Anyway, maybe, some of these preachers think that Islam is mainly about talking about car accidents, patriotism and performing ablutions in the appropriate way.

My Current Dream

Every day, I sit and read. And whenever I read a lot, I feel an insatiable desire to write. And whenever I write a lot, I start to dream dreams that are far from coming true. One of the dreams is that I aspire to sit for all the tests that will eventually entitle me to obtain my B.A. in just a period of a few days. As long as our ministry of education strongly believes in papers, I have to get this paper at all costs. I am still a DUEG holder. And this pains me every single day. To get rid of this pain, I resort to writing on any topic that comes to my mind. It is a real pity that the current educational system has not lived up to my expectations. As a university student, I expected a lot from it. Now, I expect less and I have even gone on to distrust any paper launched by the ministry. Anyway, my current dream is to become a B.A. holder overnight, not necessarily in a year. And this is the dream that is far from coming true.

A Good Teacher is like a Candle

It is true that a good teacher is like a candle that consumes itself to light the way for others. But, the fact that many teachers have been attacked from all sides as a result of their peaceful strikes in which they have demanded some legitimate rights has totally changed my idea about the candle. Now, I go on to believe that the Mor...occan ministry of education implicitly proves that a good teacher is now like a candle that burns itself day after day to set fire to all schools. Just as the ministry begins to blame the teacher, so does the society. To my dismay, the position of teacher has lost the noble reputation it used to have. Every time I see teachers violently attacked by inconsiderate police, I then assure myself that teachers and their ministry still talk at cross purposes. No one knows where the other is heading, and no one knows what the near future might bring to our educational system. For me, I can not expect anything fruitful from the ministry at a time when it still considers the teacher as a mere candle that kindles fire, not the one that lights the way for others. It is high time the ministry and all teachers sat a table in a dark room with no electricity. It is high time they all lit the candles lying on the tables, and each one carried his or hers carefully lest they should extinguish at any time so as not to lose their track back home.

A Son of Divorced Parents

" I am a son of divorced parents, too", I said to a student who came to me, complaining about her underachievement. I do not need to go into details about this. And I do not care if somebody writes critically of me after saying so to a student of mine. It is mainly because I feel bitter hatred in my heart whenever I hear the word ' ...father', the thing I do not feel when I hear 'mother'. I very well know that only our mothers usually fall prey to divorce because of our fathers. Numerous are the students who drop out of school or who do poorly at studies just because of the row their parents have at home. Some people, like me, did not have the chance to live with their father. And it is only the mother who suffers and exerts herself hard to bring her children up well, while the father, carefree, is away, looking for a new bride. And when you ask your father about the reasons leading to their divorce, he instantly puts the blame on your mother. How should I believe him when he divorces my mother and goes on to get married to three other women? We can not blame it on four women, his wives, and forgive only one man, the father. There is no common sense here. Anyway, if you are so curious to know about the whole story, I recommend that you read " The Wife Whose Permission was not Asked", a short story I published in Souss Pens magazine last year.

Writing Styles

Writing styles differ from one writer to another, but what makes readers appreciate one writer more than another is the simplicity, vitality and vividness with which they write. Recently, a French teacher wrote critically of my writings, saying that I have to do my best to make them much more easier to understand. However, for other readers, they say that these writings are simplicity itself. Here, I would say that it all depends on the reader. Moreover, there are some novice writers who think that grandiloquent words, idiomatic expressions, structure complexity are what really make one's pieces noteworthy and interesting. And they go on to write a multiple-paragraph essay with so many sentences and with hard vocabulary items condensed together. And I am certain that they could have written only one good paragraph in which they can sum all the things loosely said in the essay. There are many writers, friends of mine, whose pieces I can not put down when I pick them up to read. However, there are others whose pieces I immediately put down the moment I notice a word not used properly and in the right context.

Hell is Other People

"Hell is other people," said Jean Paul Sartre. From what I have gone through so far in life, I have come to the conclusion that people are really hell. If you go out of your house, having a walk along the street, you must have dressed well enough so as not fall prey to rumour. If you sit at a cafe, ordering a cup of coffee instead of... avocado juice, other diners will mistake you for a miser. That's why some of us have this idea in mind whenever they sit at a cafe. Some women have to spend hours upon hours, making up their face before daring to go out. They are worried about their appearances, for they very well know that once they are outside, male passers-by will catch glimpses of them. Some teachers prepare unusually well when they discover that one of their students is a child prodigy. Some suitors have to do their best to appear mature on the day of the proposal. They are worried about the bride's appreciation. Some girls have to adopt a special walking way to please the passers-by. They are so obsessed about this, for their walking way outside is totally different from their walking way inside the house. Some teachers adopt special walking ways when they are on their way to school so as to appear professional to others. Unfortunately, some writers, including me, write mainly to please others on a daily basis, for if they do not, they will not approve of themselves. In a nutshell, Hell is really other people.

Public Speaking

No doubt, there are many great people like Vladimir Nabokov who think like geniuses, write like distinguished authors, and speak like children. These people are excused, for many factors normally lead to their inability to speak openly before the public, such as timidity and lack of courage. However, the fact that Moroccan ministers a...nd other senior officials can not speak eloquently and openly on TV has always been a mystery to me. At first, I thought that they can write better than they can speak or that they think like geniuses when they lay their hands on their work. Knowing that this is not the case, the conclusion I have reached then is that these officials are not well-educated enough so as to be able to produce a series of meaningful sentences while the floor is theirs. For me, it does not matter when you speak like a child and write like a distinguished author as is the case with the Russian author. Some Moroccan teachers of Arabic can not speak as fluently as Egyptian children do. The same applies to some other language teachers. It is not because these teachers are used to writing more than speaking, nor is it because they think like geniuses and it is only when they start to speak do they appear like children. I have no idea why Moroccan ministers, professors, officials, etc. are not consistent when they speak. For some time, they use some phrases in Classical Arabic, then they move to speak Moroccan Arabic for the rest of their talk. When they feel they are at a loss, they resort to their mother tongue, and when they feel there is a need to appear 'professional', they start to speak Classical Arabic for a very short time. My point is that when the nature of the speaker's personality affects their speaking manner, they are excused, for they just in need of practice. But, to see a Moroccan minister and teacher unable to speak the language they have to speak to address citizens and students respectively makes one dare to wonder about their way to these positions.

True Love

I would like to draw your attention to this fine poem about love by Kerstin Hensel. It runs thus: "At the Flea Market"
'Someone's selling love
for no money, no lie. No one
stops. My lover
at the next stand
buys a golden ring.'
Having perused the poem, I would say that true love exists, but it is extremely rare. And if you think it is everywhere, why do most men fall in love with beautiful girls and not with ugly ones? Why do men who have got no beauty usually get married to women who have got no beauty either? Why do handsome men usually get married to beautiful women? Or, maybe, true love is mainly about beauty. Anyway, if true love existed so frequently, female doctors would fall in love with male farmers. If true love existed so frequently, female teachers would fall in love with male greengrocers. If true love existed so frequently, the rich would usually fall in love with the poor. The same would be true of the disabled with the able and of the unemployed with the employed. Coming back to the poem above, you find that someone is selling love for free at the flea market. This person is true to his or her word. He/She is also honest, for he/she not telling lies by offering his/her free love to passers-by. However, no one stops to welcome and accept that love despite the fact that it is free of charge. You know why this happened to the poor person? It is undoubtedly because it is not love itself that matters at the end of the day, but because it is the manner one resorts to to gain the second half's heart. Buying a golden ring as is the case with the lover at the next stand, among other things, is the true key to love. Here, my advice to you is never sell love for free for two reasons: First, it is because this will get you nowhere; second, it is because true love is so rare in the first place.