It’s the kind of book that makes me wish I were back in college, taking a literature class in which we were studying this book. I imagine “taking a magnifying glass” and taking a good look at how cleverly the author lets information drip in, not adding more information than you need at the moment, letting you sense things before they are affirmed and presenting horrific events with just enough detail to let you fill in the dots yourself, in the amount and manner that you can deal with.
In this legend, that takes place in Pakistan, there most certainly are extremely painful events. However the tale of current events is intertwined with a BOOK (which was once lost , once harmed, being stitched back together in different strokes) whose pages strive to alert the world to the many ways all known cultures in the world were influenced by each other and are connected. Education, books, learning about the other, accepting people’s differences (since no one is really that different) is the path to touching the legend. Extremism, ignorance, banning of books, thoughts and feelings hurts the people setting the bans too, not to mention those caught in the crossfire.
Think of “The Handmaids Tale” or “1984”.
Reading this book made me think of both of them, though in this one there is more hope, a bit easier to see what could be possible instead.
This is the kind of book that leaves an impression.
“We’ve walked both sides of every street Through all kinds of windy weather; But that was never our defeat As long as we could walk together”. “Crossroads”, Don McLean
I met the most recent former student, who had popped in for a visit, in the teacher’s room. Thankfully, she hadn’t come down to the English Room first. It made me feel slightly less bad to know that the other two teachers, who had also chatted with the student warmly about what she’s been doing and what she plans to do, didn’t remember her name either.
The student graduated six years ago…
When we did figure out the student’s name, I was taken aback. That student and I had really “walked” together for three whole years through all kinds of “windy weather”! She was one of those hard of hearing students who had arrived in 10th grade hell-bent on proving that not only didn’t she know any English, it would be impossible to teach her any. It took quite a while until she agreed to “take my hand” so we could “walk together” and brave the elements with a security net.
“Can you remember who I was? Can you still feel it?” “Crossroads”, Don McLean
There seems to be no rhyme or reason as to what I remember (or don’t) about which former student. With some it’s their name, with other’s it’s a task they handed in or the way they behaved in some situation. Some students I remember a great deal about and some I barely remember. That’s particularly embarrassing as I teach most of the students for three years and I spend a great deal of time thinking about them. I’m at school five days a week, too. But it seems as if there’s a capacity limit – each new class of students seems to erase memories of previous students.
You know I’ve heard about people like me But I never made the connection. “Crossroads”, Don McLean
I’ve been teaching for 32 years now..
At least when I meet students whom I taught more than 10 years ago I no longer feel embarrassed to ask them their name.
But six years?
Does your memory work in the same manner? How do you deal with it?
I have a soft spot for Greece, I’m interested in its recent history (as well as ancient history) and I know some wonderful people there. I am familiar with some of the places mentioned in the first part of the book (though have visited very few of them so far), such as Larissa, where I have a special friend.
I knew from the first moment (this isn’t actually a spoiler, its crystal clear) that the book has a clear message – the simple country home in the village is better than anything else and true happiness will only be found at home. I was prepared to treat it as a Greek fable and ignore the “schmaltz”.
My strategy worked well as long as the book was about the older generation and life during (and between!) the two world wars.
However, by the time I had finished reading about the eldest daughter’s experiences after she left home, I thought I would drown in “schmaltz”.
I have no patience for this. I moved on to a new book, which is riveting!
You’ll be hearing about it!
Teaching English as a FOREIGN language to Deaf and Hard of Hearing Students