Take it away Hamzeh!

In the next few days I want to share a few examples of student work. I don’t write enough in blogisodes about the great work my students do—I am always grading and assessing the work and I should take more time to celebrate their achievements. In this first example, I wanted to share the written speech that Hamzeh offered as his declamation. KA has begun an annual tradition of a declamation contest, as in the old-fashioned sense where one writes a speech and then delivers it. Deerfield Academy still maintains this tradition whereas many old schools have dropped it. Hamzeh decided he would fashion his speech after “Slam Poetry,” a genre that his English class had studied. While you do not have the benefit of watching Hamzeh deliver his declamation, you can read his words. Long-time readers of the blog will know that Hamzeh has been one of the most vibrant facets of my KA experience, I have taught him thrice, lived on the same hallway and advised him. A panel of judges deemed his declamation the best for 2010-2011. After he delivered his speech, in the back row with the teachers, there were more than a few moist eyes as we contemplated his progress and growth in these four years, not just in terms of facility with English, but his poise and decorum as he ascended the stage and mesmerized the audience. Again, more than a few commented simply, “he is such a habibi.”


Blasting Words
The bell rang, the students left like a clang
No one stayed at the class, everyone ran outside
Holding their blackberries, that every time they rang
The teacher got upset, and sometimes got mad
“What a young generation!” Yelled the teacher, “Please no slang!”
Well, that’s probably some story you are accustomed to living
Frolicking on the grass, having fun and already
Getting work done like a diligent student
You open the book, the notebook and try to look so prudent
But underneath that cover, lies the nation’s threat
It’s not about some rubber, once in a fire lit
But about the “Souar” (pictures in Arabic), that the TV perfectly spits
“I am cold, may I have the 7a66a?” asked so politely the American girl
But when approached with a guy and a “Wutz Up!?” The girl prepared for a little flattering curl
Was it a shock that was painted on her face?
Was it a moment of realization that struck her?
Was it, was it, was it…?
I think it was, and even more, for the guy said the impossible, and even more
“Oh, I see, so now you are a terrorist, Haha”
The girl stood there, taken aback
Unable to compare, those words and the smack
How bad are we portrayed? How bad are the Arabs?
Is it really our fault? Or is it that things add up?
I say it’s propaganda, do you know the Chinese panda?
Exactly, I don’t think you know, so let’s get the points jotted down and I
Would like to address, the people and the press
Will you ever oppress, an orphan or a homeless?
The same thing lies here, no difference, no changes, just the atmosphere
Do you always open your ear? And let the slander adhere
To you, are you sincere? I doubt it, you know why?
Because you got used to it, just like new-born babies cry
We live under one sky, we breathe the same air
How dare you call us terrorists, how dare?
How dare you deprive us civilization, how dare?
How dare you run away from us, how dare?
How dare you be afraid from us, how dare?
What do you mean it’s nine eleven?
When Arabs aren’t there, do you call it a heaven?
What do you mean it’s OUR fault?
Did we blow the towers? Did we rob your hours?
Do you know that the world is yours and ours?
What do you know about the Arabs? Or, let me rephrase; what do you hear about the Arabs?
Because nowadays, all you think is what you hear? The Arabs photo is like a sphinx
That is always setting there, we can do nothing, we can’t destroy it, and it just winks
As in every party you have the extremes
That will do whatever to vanish our dreams
“Hmmm, it’s a misunderstanding, it seems…”
It seems??? May be it’s the teens…
And maybe it’s the screens, which show you what it “seems”
Because it’s not only the Arabs, and it’s not only the wooden teeth
It’s not only the Vikings, the horns and the sushis
You are like little children when they swear: “a number with three digits is greater than a number squared”
Because, let’s be honest, get a square, tilt it to the side, is it a square?
Some might say yes, some might say no, some might even say “IT’S NOT EVEN FAIR.”
You know what you know, and little is what you accept
For you are the victim and they are the subject
Because, let’s be honest. A country man at Texas
Busts his time, his muscles and his flexes
Working so hard, dust on his face and his textures
Then comes a running daughter shouting with fright:
“Daddy, they blew the towers, daddy, I’m scared.”
He hugs his daughter, who looks beautiful in white
But he still bites his lips and says “It’s okay sweetie, everything will be all right.”
He knows it’s all lies, nothing is fine, and nothing is all right
What do you expect from him? Hug the person who ruined their lovely evening?
Hug the person who destroyed his nation? Hug the person who caused the people to start fleeing?
Or maybe, invite him to dinner to discuss why he committed such a violation
As soon as that took place, a connection was created
The Arabs became disgrace and the Muslims too, affiliated
It’s funny how we humans, always take the routes that make us animals
It’s not necessarily congruent, but habituation has its effects and originals
Once we hear or see something, like baby ducks, we follow it
It’s like there is nothing in this whole world that’s other than it
What is it? How did we reach the wall that we hit? Is there any way out?
You know, if we could get the TV. To permit
CeciN'est Pas Une Pipe, The Treason of Images
Before you get the creeps, about some Arab cities or villages
You’ve got to go there, for you to know there
Because what sticks to your mind is what you see, not what you hear
But misconceptions will always be there, whether we like it or not
But the change starts here, now let’s go bomb Pizza Hut!