Former students of mine, stop repaying me badly.

Artwork by Tarek Chemaly

Yesterday, it was pointed out to me that someone else's work has a whiff of my own in their writing. To be very clear, from one angle, I am very proud of that because this is a former student, but also it bothers me as it would be taking credit of something I did not do (considering a lot of people took credit of my work, I know how it feels). But, as Nietzsche said "One repays a teacher badly if one always remains nothing but a pupil", I find it sad that after all the pushing, the huffing, the puffing, to make the students excel, they go into a market where the bar is getting lower and lower.

Clients are uneducated, agencies are run but not-exactly-bright stuffed suits, marketing departments barely understand the word, briefs keep changing, words such as "AI can do it better" are thrown around, insults and pressure leading to burnout are rampant. It is not like I am inventing gunpowder here, but you know what I am pointing out. 

I have a famous saying to my former students "the day you become better than me, I retire". Make no mistake, I am truly proud of my students, all of them, no matter what their choices were. I once had a brilliant student, I saw her later at a mall with two small kids in tow, she looks at me and say "I've done a mistake" pointing to her kids. And I answered with, "yes, you should have been at a shitty agency under an ignorant creative director instead of having two charming kids". 

But still, in today's advertising and marketing scenes, I can see what the students were and what they are now. A pale imitation of the brilliant concepts I have pushed them to do. When I was still teaching, one reproach other faculty members would throw at me would be "it's your work, not theirs" (and I have seen a teacher do the work for students on their PC, give it back to them and grade them subsequently). Actually, no, it was never my work, it was the relentless drive to push the students so hard (or what I not very charmingly call "beat them to the pulp" - figuratively, thankfully) so that they "spit it out".

I remember one student who once said "my sister works at (insert prestigious agency) and she loved the lines you rejected last time" to which I replied "but you came up with better ones, right?" and she goes "but according to their standards even the ones rejected were great", I sighed and said "well, not my fault my standards are higher than their agency's!".

And at the end of every course, I always ask "was it your work or mine?" the anonymous answer would be "our work", and then I ask again "did you know you had it in you?", and once more the ubiquitous reply is "no". I simply know the students had it in them. I simply know that the red-haired girl everyone pitied me when I said she was in my class was simply neglected not uncreative. The proof is that she got 95 on one of her assignments (part of the very rare 95 I have given in all my teaching career), how the class erupted after that was honestly something one cannot put in words.

I want my students to surpass me. I do. But the more I look at today's output, even if some of it is here and there brilliant, and I make every effort to highlight it, I still know, know, that the initial potential was bigger and of higher caliber than what is dumbed out.

The reason I know? I was there to push them to the abyss, and I threw them over the edge, they discovered they had wings and could fly.

On teaching....

"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 that 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.

The missed opportunities of ad people in the Middle East

Artwork by Tarek Chemaly

At some point I knew I was no longer an agency man.

But I was always very lucky in my career. I gradually eased into lecturing. And even when I left lecturing because due to inflation I was no longer making money but rather putting, I was able to focus on my video art productions.

My point? Advertising people in the Middle East simply do not know when to stop. I am not naming names, but the man was - in the polite words of the late Walid Azzi - a "dormant giant", which is euphemism for "has-been". The problem? In his mind, the man still thought he was on top of his game. Comically so. In my last meeting with him circa 2005 along with a very capable art director, the lady in question (the art director) told him "you know, using such a word is not exactly palatable for us as Muslims, "perfection" (al kamal in Arabic) is left to God".

And the guy just get on a rant "you are teaching me advertising now? Me? After all my experience?" and he went on for 5, then 10, then 20 minutes in the same vein. At some point I looked at the art director, signaled for her we should beat a retreat, did so, all while the man was - STILL - ranting about "teaching him advertising".

Oh, and did you notice how many ad people - again in the region - wanted to go to politics? Failed transitions or laughable ones. Again, not naming names, but the examples are too many (Lebanon included), which proves again, that the ad people's ego does not know when and where to stop.

Something else I noticed, that rage to leave agencies these people have been associated with (during the agency's but also their own creative heyday), thinking they are still at the height of their creative powers, only to drift endlessly from one agency to another. Very recently someone asked me about a certain person in the industry "any idea which agency he has been passing through as of late?". The man was a creative giant back in the day, but since has been just going from one place to another with dwindling output.

Let me tell you this other story. A creative director in a huge agency in Beirut used to go to the junior's cubicle where several of them would be packed elbow to elbow in a room as big as a matchbox, and instead of taking each aside to critique their work so as to improve it, he's just stand at the door, utter a deep sigh and then leave.

All of this is leading to one place in my mind. Why not teach, coach, and mentor these youngsters? For the fifteen years I taught at university, I had a blast with boys and girls - some of them eager, some of them not, some of them creative, some of them not, some of them willing to learn, some of them not. But it did not matter, when you had that one, just one person who was lapping it up, you'd know you'd know your mission has been successful.

But for some reason, these ad people, past their creative height either never take up information transmission in whatever form it is, or find it beneath them. I know of a certain person who plainly told his class "I didn't like you, I am not going to teach you" - all while collecting his salary. Another showed up for only two sessions out of the allotted fifteen, gave the class a final and everyone obviously failed in class.

Perhaps they are stuck in the "those who can't do, teach" - which trust me, is not correct. Up till today, I still have former students in high positions in agencies who will consult me on briefs. I always give them kick-ass answers and with a snark end our exchange with: "the day you will become more creative than I am, is the day I retire".

I can still be creative all while teaching/mentoring or just simply volunteering my time with "students". We both learn to quote Maguy Farah (the Lebanese media personality who once said that in class "ment3allam" - meaning that not only students get new info, but teachers do as well).