I woke up at 3 am, sweating, and filled with fear. A small realization gets me pissed, I look at the watch, I am thankful that it’s the time for suhur. I get out of bed and spend the next 30 minutes thinking.

It is the third time that I have had a nightmare recently, and they all happened in the same place: my previous school in Bethlehem. Despite the fact that I was there for two years, during which, I never had such dreams or thoughts.

My two previous nightmares had the examination process in common, images of piles of students moving up the school’s staircase similar to a herd of sheep, all wearing the same thing (although I do not object to the idea of a uniform however the scene was so ugly in my imagination), face expressions dull and emotionless with a strong sensation of “nothingness”. The scary blank look in their eyes combined with the cries of orders by teachers give an uncomforting impression of obedience. Ugly. In the classrooms were herds of students stacked one on top of the other, and in the front of each class stood a man, or perhaps, the man that caused the fear that woke me up years later.

Those men, whom we called “teachers,” were tools of creation, but never in a constructive manner. I clearly remember an incident that has been torturing my imagination ever since: The metal door squeaks open and the laughter vanishes as walks in walks the teacher. As the chair slides across the room, it scrapes the ground harshly; everyone clenches their face and screws up their eyes. The room is ghost-silent as we focus our eyes on the teacher’s face and hands, trying to anticipate the reaction. “Who kicked it?” a frightened voice whispers into my ear. “The teacher.” I reply. This wasn’t a unique incident, this man (with whatever unworthy title he held) was indeed a monster that was not fit to be between teenagers: use of filthy language and curse words that were often directed towards students, immense physical punishment, biases, and a general tendency towards troublemaking. His punishment methods have been -naturally- confronted on some extremely rare occasions by a student trying to defend the last bit of whatever dignity he managed to preserve after the “teacher” mopped the floor with him verbally and physically. Something we heard about more than we saw, though. So, he protected himself by befriending the tough guys to remove them from the potential-threat list. The jungle, ladies, and gentlemen!

It is interesting how the place that we attend in order to lift ourselves out of the misery of Bethlehem’s camps functions like the wilderness. In search of civilization, we were placed in a primitive environment.

Another type of “teacher” who stood before us was “MR. So and So”. “You don’t know who I am,” “You would be miserable if I weren’t here to save you,” “Look how miserable and silly you are, [in contrast] I’ll tell you how I do things and how I was a student,” we were often told by our, again, “teachers.” Heck, all I’ve learned from them is the amount of contempt one gains by acting in their ego-driven manner. The most common word a “teacher” used in a science class was “I.” “I am Mr. So and So. You don’t know who I am.”

Dear Mr. So and So, I think that you would have been more useful teaching us how to use the scientific calculator instead of constantly shaming us in front of other “teachers” about our inability to use it properly. Now that I have learned to use a calculator, I have calculated the value of your class to be zero.

The realization that pissed me when I woke up at 3 am today was that the last time I stepped inside that place was 2 years ago. 2 years! And my imagination -and for no apparent reason- shows me such images and reminders.

The solution for all the beating and humiliation was irony, the only tool a poor student possessed while being beaten by a “teacher.” But, everyone knew that it was meaningless. Often, the more you resisted the beating, the more beating you got. You -sometimes- had an option: give the impression of dignity but leave with a mark on your hand for the rest of the day (after some good-old beating), or leave better off physically but publicly executed emotionally. We often chose the latter.

“Whatever the Party holds to be the truth, is truth. It is impossible to see reality except by looking through the eyes of the Party.”1 That school was a place where obedience was rewarded and the only appreciated actions followed the school’s very narrow value system. The top-achieving students are asked to stand in front of the 700 peers in an attempt to showcase and celebrate the elite of the school. But, the other majority of the 700 students only saw dull, tired, darkened faces; bad postures and -usually- unhealthy physiques; discomfort, and perhaps fear. Heck, those “elite” are usually no fans of social contact and now they are forced into the spotlight. This was the school’s attempt to propagate a competitive scene for other students through shame, “Keep clapping for others! They achieve and you clap” teachers used to shout in a disgusted tone indicating our “failure”. The longer the highly-achieving students were in the spotlight the more discomfort they felt given that they knew that they were being used only as tools to create a self-shaming effect for others. What I saw… this backfired. “I don’t want to be one of them. I don’t want to be like them.” I reflected. In contrast, when I proposed a creative initiative: playing music for students in the lunch break. I was instantly rewarded with some good-old beating with a long solid plastic pipe (something that the “teachers” carry -more on that later) in the school’s yard in front of the students where we happened to be standing.

“Little children were trained not to do “just what they liked” but…but what?… Of course! What others liked. And which others? Parents, teachers, supervisors, policemen, judges, officials, kings, dictators. All authorities. When you are trained to despise “just what you like” then, of course, you become a much more obedient servant of others — a good slave. When you learn not to do “just what you like” then the System loves you.”2

From what I have observed, a teacher was violent due to one reason: incompetence. The more incapable a teacher was, the more often he used violence. Other reasons were present as well -mainly ego related-but they all revolved around incompetence. By incompetence, I mean the teacher’s lack of knowledge and/or incapability in the subject that he is supposed to be teaching (usually, the lack of teaching skills corresponded to the inability in the subject of teaching).In contrast, a good teacher who is confident and well informed about his subject never resorted to physical punishment. Some teachers’ classes were a joy to attend and anticipated and meeting them was always a pleasure.

The students -and the teacher- were aware of the weakness of the teacher, creating a sense of absence in the classroom and cold emptiness in the atmosphere. It was a pain to watch a teacher correcting his mistake for the third time, only to fail and leave the students confused and irritated. For this teacher (what’s thought-provoking but sad), It was much easier to grab attention and respect by a stunt that he’d pull off occasionally: bring a couple of students to the front of the class with any excuse, for example, being loud, and then the usual painful phrase that I still cannot go over: “OPEN YOUR HANDS!” Oh, God! How hard it was to hear the teacher say that. If you haven’t felt the hit that followed you were pained by its staggering sound. Plastic pipes were the most common tool, then follows wooden sticks that were taken from the class’s broom -which sometimes broke in the process- Blackboard erasers were the next option, and if there was no tool insight, a series of punches to the stomach that would corner the student between the walls of the classroom and the teacher, accompanied by verbal humiliation and a sprinkle of kicks if the teacher was athletic. Last resort would be a pinch to the ear -but you would guess that it wasn’t a particularly friendly one.

Such teachers often rewarded students who would agree and accept everything they are told. A powerful technique if you were a desperate student. Sadly, in such a place, you often end up desperate, and therefore obedient.

In some scenarios, the teachers were afraid of the potential students have. Therefore, inhibited them to ensure their security:

“The Church of Reason[educational institution], like all institutions of the System, is based not on individual strength but upon individual weakness. What's really demanded in the Church of Reason[educational institution] is not ability, but inability. Then you are considered teachable. A truly able person is always a threat.”2

It was in the best interest of the teacher to keep us silent, for a bright student could challenge his reputation. There were two sorts of reactions from the students: 1. Play the game to fit in with the institution’s values 2. Be your own creative power. A high-risk high-reward game.

Pirsig called the first approach to life in which you give in a “Low-quality form of life.” Indeed it is. Unfortunately, this was the dominant reaction. Attempts to be creative and unique and alive were confronted with either punishment or ignorance, or your attempts could be -craftily- used. Your skills and intellectual abilities were ignored unless they could grant a person in the institution or the institution itself anything valuable. I have been used for personal and institutional goals. Teachers took my work and used it as material for their personal “educational” business as “Collaborative work between the students of the 11th grade and me.” My response to that is: Bullshit. Ironically, when I proposed this personal project to the teacher and asked for guidance, he dismissed my idea. “Too difficult” and “university professors don’t understand what you are trying to demonstrate.” But when I succeeded, my work was simply used. I wish I had the guts back then.

This excellent quote of Pirsig satisfies the soul:

“Grades really cover up failure to teach. A bad instructor can go through an entire quarter leaving absolutely nothing memorable in the minds of his class, curve out the scores on an irrelevant test, and leave the impression that some have learned and some have not. But if the grades are removed the class is forced to wonder each day what it’s really learning. The questions, What’s being taught? What’s the goal? How do the lectures and assignments accomplish the goal? become ominous. The removal of grades exposes a huge and frightening vacuum.”2

The grades were not the only method of hiding the “huge and frightening vacuum,” it worked along with physical punishment.

If I try to reflect on what I have learned in that school, academically speaking, I have learned too little. That was proven when I had to study most of what I have learned in Bethlehem here in Dilijan. I struggled. “I was studying this 4 months ago. Why do I not know a single thing” I was always surprised and asking myself -fearfully- thinking that if this is the case then I’d better drop the pen and go play the drums at weddings from the age of 17. That could be more profitable, I thought. “The reason you teach and you teach and you teach is that this is a very clever way of running a college on the cheap while giving a false appearance of genuine education.”2 Thank you, Pirsig. Although the irony here is that we all know (students, staff, parents, and the community) that there was no genuine education. They even failed at faking it.

“Jut teach and teach and teach until your mind grows dull and your creativity vanishes and you become an automaton saying the same dull things over and over to endless waves of innocent students who cannot understand why you are so dull, lose respect and fan this disrespect out into the community.”2

Some bright students who were naturally smart and had gathered some knowledge from outside the class and picked up knowledge quickly were a valuable tool for any weak teacher (but only if the student collaborated.) They gave the appearance of teaching being done in the class whenever they answered a question directed to them by the teacher. I don’t know if the other students realized (they did not seem to), but it only requires a bit of gumption to see what the teacher is doing. No wonder this exact question was directed to this exact student. Despite the answer being a result of the great amount of time the bright student spent studying the topic at home to cover up for the teacher’s weakness. Students who are less bright have tried this before only to realize that their efforts cannot yield any true and meaningful results. After all, you cannot compensate successfully for the 11 subjects you had to study. The bright students were a treasure. when a teacher is miserably failing at leading a class and he feels that we are sensing it, he would instantly pull his favorite trick: “Hey, Rami! What is the…?” Rami answers correctly. “Ha! Great job, we took this last class.” The teacher replies. Another more desperate trick is used when the teacher asks many students the same question and everyone fails to answer. Here, the teacher tries to try to guide the turn toward Rami in the smoothest way possible. “Rami’s turn. What is…?” Rami answers correctly -and here is my favorite part- “Ha! Someone knows it, therefore everyone should know it! I explained it. Someone got it. That’s enough.” The “teacher” replies. At that moment, ladies and gentlemen,  I lose whatever faith I had left in our educational system.

Rami, our hypothetical bright student, is somehow contributing to the failure of the educational institution, by being an actor in the stunt that creates the false appearance of true education. I have voluntarily played Rami’s role on multiple occasions (oh my god! I was naive) to save a teacher’s face. But that was after enough time with the teacher that allowed everyone present in the room to know the game that was being played -or at least didn’t care less for the class and information presented since there was nothing to be learned.

One of my favorite quotes from cinema:

“We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read.”3

I am being very unfair to many real teachers that truly inspire. Some gave me the tools and guidance to explore and enjoy certain subjects that I had no interest in before. Some appreciated my enthusiasm toward topics outside of the class’s domain and discussed them with me in great depth for the sole purpose of learning. Some were really great at their job and actually taught in a manner so beautiful and so effective that they made out of their class one of the anticipated joys of the day. Some gave real value and respect to the student and treated him with maturity, creating a better environment in which multiple people share a common space and join together with the purpose of exchanging and receiving knowledge. And there were also teachers who tried to do something creative and influential outside the domain of the syllabus. It is my pleasure to be your student, you taught me how to behave, how to help and support others, how valuable a smile is, the joy of learning for the sake of learning, and that there is hope.

It didn’t take me long through the process of writing to realize (or to be more precise, remember,) that everything I am going to write about is the effect of something so large I cannot see. “Some things you miss because they’re so tiny you overlook them. But some things you don’t see because they’re so huge.”2  The community acknowledges the presence of a real problem with a degree of rude explicitness, but solutions are not being discussed, it is strange how despite our recognition nothing is being done.

“But to tear down a factory or to revolt against a government or to avoid repair of a motorcycle because it is a system is to attack effects rather than causes; and as long as the attack is upon effects only, no change is possible [...] If a revolution destroys a systematic government, but the systematic patterns of thought that produced that government are left intact, then those patterns will repeat themselves in the succeeding government. There’s so much talk about the system. And so little understanding.”2

I just sense that writing this is a step towards removing the deliberate blindness by giving the subject pulse in the community dialogue. “Until they become conscious they will never rebel, and until after they have rebelled they cannot become conscious.”1  Perhaps people (especially older generations,) are confident that attempts to change are useless. There are conscious people around, but no revolution. Not yet. Sometimes it’s really hard not to create a connection between the students and the proles. And  “If there is hope, it lies in the proles.”1

I woke up at 3 am, sweating, and filled with fear. A small realization gets me pissed, I look at the watch, I am thankful that it’s the time for suhur. I get out of bed and spend the next 30 minutes thinking.

It is the fourth time that I have had a nightmare recently, and they all happened in the same place…

References

1. Orwell G. 1984. Signet Classics; 1949.
2. Pirsig R. Zen And The Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance. London: Vintage Books; 2014.
3. Bird B. Ratatouille. Pixar; 2007.