Each new year since 2010 (yes, this is still 'THE new year) my instinctual internal alarm clock sounds off. There's no way to snooze this alarm. It is part of me. It IS me. It is a rite of passage marking my transformation into... I don't exactly know. What I do know is that I somehow treat it as a privilege; something I am honored to have been privy to. Some sort of secret society that myself and a few others were inducted into.
I've written about the events of the Arab Spring throughout the years. I found this text in my files that I am apt to so cleverly code-name as a rule. So clever that I can't find them anymore. As well, I need to fire up the old much-neglected Mac Book Air to conduct my investigations. Most the evidence I uncover has nothing to do with my intentions; food scraps in between the keyboard, old post-its still adhered to with my most important passwords of yore, old photos that I never see since the mysterious 'Cloud' has stopped uploading photos to currently running devices...
This text is from years back; a submission to the Hawaii chapter of the Teaching English as a Second Language (HI TESOL) organization. I need it to submit a writing sample for another organization, so I figured it's a fitting time to repost it anyway since 'we' (those of us in this secret society) just rang in our 13th anniversary... Enjoy
Is That Jasmine I Smell in My Revolution: Thoughts on Teaching in Tunisia during the Arab Spring
Setting the Scene
The following is a commentary about my experiences teaching English at Amideast during the events of the ‘Jasmine Revolution’ as it has been coined. Tunisia is a small unassuming country bordered by Algeria to the west and Libya to the east in a region called the Maghreb. The Sahara Desert is south and the Mediterranean Sea greets its northern border. Tunisia’s history extends back in time encompassing many waves of inhabitants dating back to the original desert Berber populations to the seafaring Phoenicians ruling the coastal regions over 3000 years ago. Also passing through for a minute were Romans, Ottomans, and, until more recently, French colonial rule.
It was December, 2009 and I was fresh from graduate school and eager to start teaching English abroad. My previous, and quite successful, career had been as an archaeologist and cultural anthropologist here in the Hawaiian Islands for the past fifteen years. I felt that these two disciplines would complement each other and give me a well-rounded career bath where my background would give me a slight edge concerning my deficiency in actual teaching experience. Before I started the master’s program at The New School in New York City, I had never been inside an ESL classroom before.
Fast forward to Tunis. Arriving mid-summer in 2010 during Ramadan, the Islamic month of fasting, the die was cast: A new chapter of my life was starting with, “Once upon a time in a far-away land…” I had already experienced Ramadan observances while temporarily living in Istanbul a few years earlier, so I knew to be respectful and refrain from drinking and eating in public and at school in front of my students. It’s the “when in Rome” concept that has everything to do with cultural sensitivity.
I had been teaching in Tunis for four months before this complete upheaval, that would eventually become permanently tattooed in my memory that I continue to wear as a badge of honor of sorts, unfolded. I had just begun to get into a steady rhythm of life in this north African city: my students were enthusiastic learners, I met friends, I learned basic Arabic words to get by, etc. During this time, I also discovered a new passion: I roamed the backstreets of the neighborhoods each weekend before meandering through the narrow passages of the souk and getting lost.
Talk Story; in What Language?
Tunisians are natural language learners. They are both
diglossic and bilingual language speakers. The Tunisian Arabic dialect has no
written system, yet they have a standardized written language. As a former
French protectorate, education was heavily influenced by the French educational
system, and Tunisians learn French early on in their schooling. French is the
‘official’ language of Tunisia, resulting in code-switching in contextual
usage. Add another language, like English, and rise to the super-status
of polyglot-ism. (Is that even a word?)
Inside the Classroom
I recall my academic director explaining to me that Tunisian students expected their instructors to know all the answers to their questions, so if a student were to ask me a question, and I couldn’t answer it, instead of saying, “Okay, let me get back to you on that after break,” I was supposed to run out of the class and race to the teacher’s room and ask around in there for the answer or go online to get the answer and then return to class… As a new instructor, this made me quite nervous. But again, when in Rome…
And So the Revolution Begins
At the start, that first day, the air inside the classroom was suddenly different. I would look up at my students before class while I was writing on the whiteboard and they would be talking, as usual, but more uncomfortably. They were shifting their eyes, quietly, and whispering in Arabic- not English or French. The next day, I directed my attention to them and said, “I know what you are talking about, but I don’t know what you are saying.” Because of the advanced stage of protesting going on, there was no way to avoid the topic, so I decided to tackle it directly. This was in my Level Four class where students were younger, and Ben Ali, the country’s president, had been in power longer than they had been alive.
In the ensuing days, class dynamics changed. What was most interesting to me was observing my students becoming their most fluent selves when discussing their opinions on what we were experiencing in daily life now. They excitedly debated with each other over their opinions, possibilities of freedom, new daily events, etc.
“Teacher, we have been silent for so long.”
Teacher, we have never been able to watch YouTube without using a proxy until now.”
Class Dismissed
Little did I know this class was to be my last class become Amideast closed down until further notice. The unrest and violence had finally arrived to Tunis from down in the south, in Sidi Bouzid, where it started. What was to follow was two of the most frightening days I have ever experienced. Tunis was shut down to the point where the main event of the day could be waiting in a bread line in the morning for two hours and hurry back home before curfew started up again. Constant shouting, helicopters circling, and gunfire dominated the darkness along with the wafting smell of tear gas.
During these days, there wasn’t much for us teachers to do; we all kept in touch via social media and met up for coffee after the morning food runs and before curfew fell again. Many of my students were calling, checking up on me, and asking if I needed anything.
Wrapping up the Revolution
In the end, I had to make the decision to leave Tunisia as it had been almost a month since the school closed down and the dictator, Ben Ali, had fled the country, but the city was still a disaster and protesting continued.
I am now back on Maui working, but have accepted a position teaching English at a university in southeastern Turkey. I can be reached at hjform@gmail.com or you can follow my blog which relays my experiences living abroad and teaching. In fact, you should follow my blog as I haven’t even delved into being out on the streets in Tunis that fateful day, January 10, 2011, when I was with my friend, another instructor at Amideast, and he got shot… And then the dash to the hospital… And then the ensuing days of intense action on the streets… And then…
