"Tarek, what have you done to my daughter?" I could not place the tone of voice of the woman on the phone - fear? no, threat? neither.
But first the daughter. In 1997 right bang in the middle of my military service, a couple told me their niece was in dire need of math lessons. The child, I think she was 9 years old, was something like I have never seen before. Her face was white marble, inexpressive, not letting an iota of feeling seeping out. When I sat next to her on the children's table where she was studying, I was looking at her face trying to figure out anything that expressed if she understood or not. And there it was - a small, very very unnoticeable wrinkle of the left nose. Indeed, she did not understand. I tried explaining differently, and no wrinkle. She did the exercise.
Her last math grade was 6/20. So the best aim was for her to go to 10/20 or the average. So bit by bit as the sessions continued, we had a code - "tope la!" (give me 5) when she managed to do a difficult exercise. And so it went until the last session before the final. I gave her a tough one I knew she was able to resolve, and there it was - the wrinkle. I panicked, "what? what? what is it you do not understand?". True to herself, she did not say anything, she just pointed out to a word: Allumettes. I ran to the kitchen to ask her mother for a box of matches, she gave me one and upon my return, I said - "you know what forget it, you what that is?" I pointed to the truck thrown among her toys. She nodded, so I said "every time there is a word you do not understand, just replace it by camion" (truck). She nodded again.
Which brings us to the famous: "Tarek, what have you done to my daughter?" which the woman M. asked again. "M. listen, tell me what is wrong, how bad is the situation?" the call came two weeks after the famous last teaching session. "Tarek, my daughter, yes my daughter (emphasis hers) had an 18.5/20 on her math final" - this is when I decoded the tone of voice: incredulity. "Give me 5 minutes and I will be there!" "Yes come, I made a cake!". As I entered the house, I immediately went to the girl's room, who, again, was unfazed by all the fuss - "tope la!" - she gave me 5 and continued playing with her toys. Sadly, the cake was not tasty though.
Here is another incident - this time at university. We were doing the Lacoste brand wheel and we were at the personification level. Who was the person to best embody the brand. The whole class was giving a simultaneous cacophony of answers, then I raised my hand. The whole class fell silent, except for one student who did not see the signal - his friend shoved him with the elbow to silence him. I scanned the whole class and I zeroed in on a student sitting on the first row. "You, what did you say?". The "you" in question was four times my size, while actually sitting down. He mumbled something. "Speak. Up. What. Did. You. Say?" - he took a deep breath, all while shaking like a leaf, and threw the words as if they were his last "Barack Obama". What followed were my 10 seconds of silence after which either I would scream "go up with your stupid idea to the fourth floor and throw yourself with it" (said in jest but it means "think before you say anything" and yes, kids would smile at this) or something very very encouraging. What I said was - from the top of my lungs - "you kick boy! Yes! Yes!" and the whole class erupted in cheers so much that poor Youssef, the concierge of the floor had to close the door of the class because we were disrupting the other sessions nearby.
Which brings us to Youssef. One time, I was walking through the floor, hurrying up, not because am late but this is how I walk, and I saw Youssef coming the other way. Actually the more I progressed the more I realized Youssef was coming towards me. And blocking my way. Now, Youssef is huge (OK, fine, I am small, but by all metrics he is huge). Youssef is also illiterate but also kind. My first reflex was "what did do wrong and why does the dean tell Youssef he wants to see me?". But what happened was that Youssef said "You. You are a great teacher". I smiled but replayed in my mind all the instances where the poor man had to close doors due to the excitement generated in my classes.
Here is another anecdote. One time, I was having a coffee in the cafeteria and a female student whom I had taught a semester earlier comes to my table to and says "we are not having a bar at my future house". I smiled sheepishly and said "I am not sure I understand, but... congratulations?". The girl understood and said "Oh! Oh! I need to explain". First rewind to the semester where I taught her, I picked her from her group because I knew she was bad at public speaking. Bad was an understatement, her hands were shaking violently and her voice unintelligible. The scream I sent startled even me. "Can I touch you?" she said yes. I put my hand at the small of her back, told her to straighten her shoulders, explained to her that this brings in a lot of air to the lungs so she can say many words at once. "Now try again". The hands were still shaking violently, and the voice still unintelligible. I held the paper she was reading from and told her to try once more. She did and bang! The sentence was clear, audible, and comprehensible. I looked at two people from two different groups and asked them if they knew what she was going to say, they answered negatively and so I looked back at the girl and said "see, you know what you are going to say, they don't, you're already two steps ahead of them!".
Which brings us to the cafeteria. "You remember that session in the course?". I profusely apologized for my scream. "No! No! You know ever since my session my fiance was telling me I finally had a voice. Everything he suggested before I was simply agreeing to, and since then, I discovered that my opinion matters as much as anyone. He wanted to install a bar at the house, and I was having none of it. And he said - I am glad you changed, you now argue and give your opinion! I think it started in that session".
Of course, this is also a double-edged sword. I mean that by saying that at one point, I noticed a brilliant student underperforming in a session. At the end of the class she approached me and said "can I talk to you?". "Anything the matter?" she blurted the sentence out: "my mother has cancer, she told me yesterday, no one knows though". How one reacts to such a sentence remains without a rulebook, I assure you. I hope my own reaction was correct. But this is also the other side of the coin. When students know they can confide in you, sometimes to guide them, sometimes because no one else is there to listen.
Well, the other day, out of curiosity, I googled back my math student. She is thriving, in the US, the face is still white marble, but a huge smile adorns her face. I cannot take credit for any of it, but somehow, I was actually pleased that at one point, I made a difference.
I remember all of this, today, upon reading the story of how Albert Camus was picked by his teacher, "Monsieur Germain" who convinced his analphabet parents that he should go to school. A long time ago I read an ad for teach.org which went "you don't need to be famous to be unforgettable". Two weeks ago I spoke to a student I taught in 2005 or 2006, and he told me he was talking about me to a classmate a couple of months back. Well, to some, I am indeed unforgettable. For this I am thankful.
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