What Schools in Iraq Are Really Like: Common Questions Answered by an Iraqi Teacher
Last Tuesday, I sat at my kitchen table in Baghdad after school, sipping cold mint tea left over from lunch, and scrolled through the global primary teachers Facebook group I joined last year. I’d posted a photo that morning of my 4th grade class’s crumpled, hand-drawn posters for World Children’s Day, and typed a quick line: “I’m from Iraq, I teach 4th grade here – ask me anything about our schools.” By dinner, I had 72 comments. Most weren’t from other teachers swapping curriculum hacks. They were from parents and teachers in the U.S., Germany, and Sweden who have Iraqi refugee kids in their classrooms or homes, and they had the same few questions repeated over and over. Most assumed life here is nothing but crisis, but what they’re really asking is how to show up for the Iraqi kids in their lives.
The most common question I got was, “Do kids even go to school regularly after all the instability?” It makes sense, I get it – that’s all most people see on the news. Last month, one of my students, 9-year-old Karim, missed eight days of school because his family moved to a safer neighborhood on the outskirts of the city after a surge in attacks. When he walked back into my classroom, he pulled a crumpled pack of strawberry gum out of his pocket, the kind imported from Jordan that’s hard to find, and handed it to me. He caught up on two weeks of math homework in six days, and was back to kicking a crumpled soda can around the playground during recess before the end of the week. Last year, a grandmother walked three kilometers every morning to drop her 10-year-old granddaughter off at school, after the local bus route closed because of security checks. Her daughter and son-in-law had died in a bombing, and she told me, “This is the only thing I can give her that no one can take away.” That’s the reality for most of us. Most kids come as often as they can, even when things are hard. The practical takeaway here for teachers outside Iraq: if you have a new Iraqi student who missed a lot of school before arriving, don’t assume they’re behind or unmotivated. Give them extra time to catch up on one subject at a time, instead of piling all the missed work on them at once. That’s way more effective than holding them back a grade, which just makes them feel discouraged.
The second most common question was, “Do girls get to go to school?” That one always surprises me a little, because my 4th grade class has 18 girls and 15 boys, and last year nine of my former 6th grade students started university – seven of them were girls. Of course there are remote, conservative areas where some families can’t send girls, especially if the girls have to work to help put food on the table, but that’s not the experience of most kids I teach. Last year, a mother came to my classroom after school and begged me to tutor her daughter in science three days a week, offering to pay me out of her grocery budget. Her daughter wanted to be a doctor one day, she said, and she couldn’t let her fall behind. For parents and teachers working with Iraqi girls in new countries, the biggest mistake I see is assuming a girl is quiet because her family doesn’t let her speak up. Most of the time, she’s just nervous about speaking a new language, or she’s grown up being taught to be polite around new adults, same as kids from conservative households anywhere. One small thing you can do: if she doesn’t answer when you call on her, ask her to write her answer down on a piece of paper first, then read it aloud if she wants. That small space to prepare makes a huge difference. Don’t force her to speak in front of the whole class if she doesn’t want to.
A lot of people also asked how we get by with so few resources. It’s true – my classroom doesn’t have a smart board, we have one textbook for every two kids, and last month we ran out of paper for worksheets, so I wrote all the math problems on the chalkboard and everyone copied them into their notebooks. We plant tomato seeds in reused styrofoam takeaway cups for science class, because we can’t afford planters, and most kids take them home to grow on their balconies. We don’t have a gym, so we play soccer in the dirt yard between classes, boys and girls mixing most of the time. The thing people don’t expect is that kids adapt to this. For Iraqi kids who have moved to a new country with full sets of textbooks and laptops for every student, don’t be surprised if they hesitate to take their own, or share with other kids even when they don’t have to. That’s just the habit they’ve developed. You don’t need to give them a big talk about it – just gently say “this one is yours to keep, you don’t have to share it if you don’t want to” and that’s enough. I also hear from a lot of teachers that Iraqi kids will often stay after class to wipe down the desks or sweep the floor without being asked. Most assume that’s a sign they’ve been taught to work too much, or it’s a trauma response. It’s not – it’s just what all kids do here. Everyone helps keep the classroom clean, it’s just part of going to school. Just say thank you, don’t make a big deal out of it.
I still have 20-something comments I haven’t gotten around to answering yet. Some are silly – one person asked if kids get homework here, and the answer is yes, they complain about it just as much as kids anywhere else. Some are much harder, like how I talk to kids about when someone they love doesn’t come home. I don’t have a good answer for that. Last week, a girl in my class asked me when the bombs would stop, and I told her I don’t know. I told her that right now, we’re safe in this room, our tomato seeds are starting to sprout, and we have math class to get through, and that’s enough for today. That’s all any of us can do, right?
Please indicate: Thinking In Educating » What Schools in Iraq Are Really Like: Common Questions Answered by an Iraqi Teacher