Oh, Winter Break! How we teachers love it when you arrive! This is the time of year when many educators are eager to get away, sometimes to visit family for the holidays, and sometimes to take a tour of exotic places in warmer climates that are most appreciated when escaping colder climates.
I remember the time I toured Egypt during my Winter Break, way back in 1988. I had scrimped and saved and worked a second job for four years to save the money for this sojourn. I loved gazing at the pyramids, staring into the face of the sphinx, and cruising down the Nile River with daily stops at ancient archeological sites, including those found in the Valley of the Kings, Abu Simbel, Karnak, and Luxor.
While in Luxor, I had the good fortune to visit a local elementary school. It was 6:00 at night and Christmas Eve, but the school was open and the children were still there. Remember, Egypt is a Muslim country, so there were no Christmas celebrations in progress. Those were simpler days: I simply walked in, introduced myself, and asked for a tour. No need to worry about security.
This was a small school, only three classrooms, furnished with dilapidated, mismatched tables and benches. There were no globes or maps, no computers, no projectors, no video players—none of the modern equipment one finds in the typical American classroom, even back then. I was led to an enclosed area in the back, where I was shown a dirt-packed playground. Nothing more. No balls, no swings, no slides, no ladders. Beyond, a shack with two small rooms that served as the outhouse.
Bare bones facilities, to be sure.
I was busy snapping pics of everything in sight with my film camera—no digital cameras in those days—when I suddenly discovered I was out of film. My driver kindly offered to escort me to a place where I could buy more, so I leapt into his “taxi”—which was actually a horse-drawn carriage—and he drove me to a jewelry store, of all places. It was after dark, but as I alighted from the carriage, I saw a young student about ten years old, sitting on the curb under a street lamp, working on his homework.
Just about everyone in Egypt speaks English, so I asked the young man, “How is it that you are here, on the street, in the dark, doing your homework?”
“There is no electricity in my house,” the boy explained, “so if I’m going to complete my assignment, I must do it here.”
Wow. What fortitude.
Once I returned from my tour and classes resumed, I would sometimes think of this youngster, especially when my own students were offering what I deemed to be feeble excuses for their own incomplete assignments.
Sometimes I would dig up my photo of this little Egyptian boy and tell my students his story. In “talk-to-the-hand” style, I would stop them in their tracks and say, “I don’t even want to hear your excuse unless your obstacle is greater than this young man’s.” Rarely was my student able to top the story of the little Egyptian boy.
We’re fortunate in this country, I attempted to convince my students, to have access to resources and facilities not available in schools in many other countries. We all need to remember this, I would tell them, when we’re tempted to complain or to take these benefits and resources for granted.