Just a coupla guys…

There has been no shortage of people who have impressed me in my nearly four months here at KA, but there are a coupla guys who stand out as particularly enriching. These two guys couldn’t be more different in background or socioeconomic status, but both have endeared themselves to me in individual, as well as interconnected ways. They have figured into other blog entries in various ways, but in this week leading to Thanksgiving, it is time to offer gratitude for how they have shaped my experience here.

One of these guys is a young man named Hamzah. I met him on that first day when all these children streamed into the dorms, and we adults just hoped to survive orientation week! I had names I could barely pronounce, and I just hoped some of the magic of my previous classrooms would find its way to this to-me-far-flung-corner of the world.

We have sit-down meals at KA a la boarding school-old school: family style meals in which students perform first waiter and second waiter functions, and teachers act as heads of the table, serving the plates and facilitating conversation. I lucked out with that first rotation of students at my table (Table #1 I’ll have you know!)—such fun, curious, talkative, warm students. I was intrigued though by the quietest member of the table—he didn’t share much in the gregarious talking, but boy did he know how to eat! This slight, lean, serious-looking boy couldn’t believe there was as much food as he wanted, and enjoyed the bounty of the table. At the end of that first day of orientation, he came up to me before that first lights-out, and said to me in a soft and serious voice, “My father wants you to know that I will do my best at King’s Academy.” He shook my hand, and, walked, again I use the word seriously, off to his room. This was Hamzah.

Over the course of the next few days, several of the veterans (and by veterans, I mean those who valiantly worked here last year interviewing prospective students, working through financial aid forms, preparing for the opening, etc.) would pass by student activities and say to me, “Have you met Hamzah? He’s something. He almost didn’t make it in here.” I heard variations on this story so many times, and it always prompted sighs and knowing looks from the speakers, almost willing him to succeed here in this environment. You see, Hamzah comes from a town about 90 minutes away and from a less-privileged family than some of our royal scholars. (Yes, I know, probably every single reader of this blog comes from a less-privileged family than some of our royal scholars, but read between the lines.) The admissions committee had met this boy, been smitten by a kind of slow-burn charisma in his serious and purposeful manner, but they worried that any child from such an un-cosmopolitan town could perform to the high levels we expected, and in English to boot. Evidently his English was weak—but they decided to take a chance.

I mentioned Hamzah early on in the blog—if you remember, the first night the King came to school, for the opening convocation, there was that beaming boy who handed His Majesty the KA tie—that was Hamzah. There was something so moving in that simple exchange, a kind of star quality, if you will, on the faces of both of them.

About six weeks ago our Chairman of the Board met with me for a catch-up, and among several topics, he asked, “Tell me about a student that has amazed you here at KA.” Teachers love those questions! Someone wants to know about these little wonders with whom we spend our days?! For those of you out there who are kind and endure the running commentaries about our class-progeny, imagine what it is like when someone really wants to know! Well, I spoke of Hamzah. I spoke about the way in which he comes into class, shakes my hand, opens his notebook, and is ready to go—even without the candy or other forms of bribery. Class isn’t easy for him—he is working hard to make sense of colloquialisms I might use he hasn’t yet encountered, but he is as steady as a surgeon in working to connect the historical dots, his eye contact unfailing.

In the first week our Dean of Students introduced a demerit system called MOPs (an acronym for Missed Obligation Points) and teachers could slap them on you for almost any infraction—tardiness, slovenliness, you name it. The Dean also said that anyone who went MOP-less for the semester would be invited to a special dinner. In those heady first days, wait—heady? Have I forgotten all the comments from the “Scratch” Period (not as far back as the Pleistocene Age!)?? In those days of herding cats, teachers were giddy with the MOP bopping. At dinner in the first week of school Hamzah looked a shade disappointed one night at dinner, and I asked what the problem was. He lowered his head, and I noticed a tear, yes, a lone tear, streaming down his face. He said he had gotten 1 MOP for being 5 minutes late to soccer practice. A second or so later he balled his fist and gently hit the table and uttered, “I wanted to go to that dinner.” Of course you wanna wipe that MOP off the slate for such a kid, but, thems the rules. I spoke to him and said we would go out and have our own dinner sometime.

As the school year has ripened, so has the intellectual prowess of Hamzah. He thrills to learn new words in class (especially as we explored Creation myths, he loved how many of them involve some kind of dismembering—he must have said that word dozens and dozens of times at night) and loves the Latin and German phrases I think any sensible scholar should know (his favorite? Sic Transit Gloria Mundi—“thus passes away the glories of the world”). He will come up to me at breakfast and ask things like, “What kind of breakfast would Homer have had in ancient Greece?” He has never missed an assignment, and if you look at his work, the responses have improved dramatically.

But he is more than just a good boy doing his homework. He is a soccer hero—in a recent game, he scored the only goal for our side. However, many of his teammates were visibly less than thrilled that a “scholarship kid” created such a fuss…ahh, jealousy—it knows no borders!

Our conversations are more than about ancient civilizations too. We talk about our families, and talk about our friends, and our goals. He has not had the exposure to many of the western entertainment things as many others, has never been on an airplane, or gone to a McDonald’s. I make a point of going to his room every evening to chat, and while at first all I saw was this serious side, he also has a silly side, a fun-loving side in which he promises to “dismember” me (and then he whispers in my ear: “Kidding—I love you!"). He has a spritely elfin quality, and never fails to make me smile. Indeed watching a smile pan out across his face is nothing short of magnificent.

Today we welcomed the King back to KA. He comes about once a month, and this afternoon at the visit, Hamzah was on stage to officially greet His Majesty, and read a poem his father had written as an ode to this monarch they adore. Hamzah memorized his welcome greeting, voice projecting to the back of the hall, and recited the poem with such dignity.

Here these two guys were together, again. The coupla guys who come from such divergent backgrounds, and the coupla guys who have compelled me the most in my time here.

In early September I caught a front-page news story (our front page, probably not yours) about the King, and in the photo he was wearing the very KA tie that Hamzah had presented to him on behalf of the school. It caught my eye, and made me smile. But over these weeks and weeks, I have endeavored to follow his schedule, read the stories, and see what this guy does. I gotta say, there is a humility, an earnestness, and a beaming smile about this man that inspires trust, and hope.

A few weeks ago the King announced a state visit to China and took along two of our KA students (you know who I was hoping he would take!) for the week visit to China. I thought it was a wonderful gesture and of course, the students loved traveling in high style with the King!

Today’s visit was different from our other presentations to the King, however. Today he came to make our lecture hall his classroom—he came to teach us! He stood at a podium with some powerpoint maps and briefed the school community on his perspective of the state of Middle Eastern politics, especially leading up to the soon-to-be-convened Annapolis conference in the United States. He never once talked down to his audience, but instead offered a brave analysis as to how the peace process might actually come to fruition. But he certainly explained the trickiness of the diplomatic process as well. It was like watching a master chess player analyze each move, prioritizing the problem spots, and explaining why it all had to be done in a certain order, or this house of cards would tumble as they so often have in the past.

This is not just a talking head! I have watched him this autumn tirelessly meeting with heads of state, congressional delegations, kings, emirs, presidents, trying to lay the groundwork for what might be a turning point in history. This is a man who will go to the peace table and do the negotiating. What a thrilling school day. After his 30 minute explanation, he welcomed questions from our thoroughly engaged students. One teacher leaned over to me and said, “this whole experience gave me such chills.” I will speak more of his points in an entry next week.

I need to close this blog—I am leaving in about 90 minutes for a Thanksgiving holiday with one of the dearest colleagues I have met this fall, Elizabeth, bound for Budapest, Hungary to see Sharon, the goddess from Denison who has been my trusted friend for over 20 years.

So let me conclude this Pre-Thanksgiving entry with a note of wonder about these coupla guys I have encountered in Jordan. One guy is to the manor born, and one guy born to humble Bedouin parents. Last year at this time I didn’t know anything about either of them. One guy envisioned this school, and one is the poster child for all these hopes and ideals embedded in the very stones I tread. And both of these guys have inspired me with such trust and such hope—I know it is so easy to be cynical about a million things, most of all contemporary education and peace in the Middle East! History, unfortunately, has not favored success when it comes to peace between Israel and the Palestinians. The road to peace is littered with numerous failed plans that have left in their wake a sea of bitter cynicism, and a resignation that this is a road that will forever stretch beyond the horizon. Our education systems would receive a similar vote of dubious confidence I imagine.

But these coupla guys have given me such a measure of peace in my world, and within these coupla lies the seed of hope for real peace, or perhaps just a seed of hope for hope.

I’ll be thinking of my family and friends this week, and check in with you on Sunday.