JANUARY 12, 2014: The Youssef School Community Service Project: An Art Lesson in “Melange.”

Standing in front of twenty five quietly reserved and attentive young faces at the nearby Moroccan government school, I felt very honored. Though I was the guest instructor bringing gifts, I sincerely felt the opposite was true. It was a special gift for me to have the opportunity to be their teacher for the afternoon. Respectfully, I erased the blackboard chalked with Arabic letters to hang three A4 examples of Color Wheels, in various stages of development, labeled with the languages of Moroccan Arabic (Darija), French, and English. Though I had “perfected” the lesson over many years, I had never taught it within this context and was excited for the challenge. I knew there was only one sink in the school, no paper towels, and no extra blank paper. In addition, I would be guessing their skill level and interest, and had never taught a formal lesson in either Darija or French. However, instead of apprehension, I felt wonder and curiosity. Their patience helped me feel that I would be enough for them. I began, “Today we have come to do an art lesson together in three languages: Arabic, French, and English. The lesson is a combination of art and science...and a little bit of magic.” Then paused for the double translation. One of the three high school girls from my school, George Washington Academy, would speak a translation in French or Darija and one of the two male Moroccan teachers in the room would translate her translation, and speak again to the group. Occasionally, I began with my terrible French or Darija to try and shorten the triple translation process. As I spontaneously edited my speech to only the most absolutely necessary words, supplies that we had brought were reorganized around the room. Before students entered the classroom, we had set up each small desk with brand new art supplies that were purchased with funds raised from two most recent bake sales at GWA, and now students needed more space. For about $100 USD we were able to purchase enough brushes, palettes, paper, pencils, erasers, crayons, markers, and paint for twenty five students which would remain at the school and stored in a locked wooden cabinet behind the teacher’s desk. After about thirty minutes, all adult voices had ceased and the high school student helpers sat themselves alongside the younger students with ease. They guided the young students with patience and kindness. The room hummed quietly with activity. My high school students were completely engaged; the younger students smiled with pride as they showed their work. A vision of a peaceful world flashed in my imagination and I paused for a moment to admire the diversity of religion, social class, education, ages and experiences of everyone in the room. The French word, “melange”, came to mind (which means “mix up”). Many things in Morocco are magically “melanged”...from mixing several languages in one sentence for the purpose of communication, to the back seat of a white taxi..and now as a mixed classroom of teachers we were also “melanging” paint! Then I was distracted by sounds outside the classroom. We had planned on teaching three classes for the day which would involve 75 out of the 700 students. I had hoped that the teachers who had been observing would take something away from the experience so that they could teach the ones that had been left out, but I was also skeptical--or realistic about that. It wasn’t only the sound of a whipping switch and children crying outside the door, it was the fact that on our last field day, we were informed after the event that many students had not been allowed to attend because they had not been “good” enough. With no resources in the cold rooms, I wondered what assessment of the “good” behavior likely entailed and guessed that quiet submission was probably the distinguishing characteristic...then with determination, I refocused my attention to the students inside of the classroom and ignored the sound I had heard. By the end of three classes, I was exhausted but felt enlightened in my own learning of being a teacher. The experience had been filled with rich moments and had required a lot of personal energy. Such has been the case in all of my teaching experiences in Casablanca over the last four years. Whether moments working in an international classroom of twenty students, or individually guiding misbehaved middle school or high school students in the privacy of my principal’s office, students may be learning English and lessons from me, but I am also learning from them. However, at this point I have many more questions than answers. I wondered if there are some societies where the gap between the public schools learning environment and private schools isn't so big? I wondered how my home country of the U.S would compare in our education of children in poverty? Would this visit today by myself and my students make any difference to the lives of these children and their teachers? Would the paints be used again? given away? or sold?