Sir GH wrote:
Yara wrote:
So be it...I wouldn't be allowed to teach your daughter, then, but I can guarantee you that she'd learn MORE MATHS with me than with most teachers out there.
Genuine question here..
Suppose you lost your job and were out of work for a couple years. The job offer finally comes in, and it's from a school with a no burqa rule. So you're faced with the choice of teaching math or keeping your burqa on - what would you choose?
Would you be willing to scale down your burqa to a hijab that revealed your entire face, if that's what the school's rules would permit?
I can't speak about the burqha. I do use a veil sometimes, mainly to cover part of my hair; sometimes, I cover part of my face too.
Well, hair is one of women's sensual attributes. I want to fully display it and be gorgeously beautiful only to the person I love dearly. It's something special that I can give to this person. It doesn't matter if he's going to let me down or something. But my heart will be loyal to him as long as I love him. And that's one of the ways I have of showing my affection. Being especially beautiful to him.
Does it mean that I get reckless when it comes to other people? No! The veil covering my hair is all very finely adorned and trimmed. There are beautiful figures and symbols on it, sometimes only colorful flowers, Jewish stars and some Hebrew words. It has the double function of concealing my hair, which I think I must preserve to special occasions, and displaying something beautiful to other people all the same - not something gross or offensive, but delicate and gentle.
As for the face: sometimes I don't want to show my face because I'm not pure. I have done bad things, I haven't gone through purification, and I think it is wrong for me to walk around showing my face as if I had to be proud of my behavior. Other times, it's because the people I use to meet start getting too gross and rude, and I then I think they shouldn't be allowed to see my face - they will make eye-contact, and that's it. I cover my face in shame for myself and for them.
I’d try to translate this into my experience: I do dress in a way that is likely to be banned from French or German schools. Let’s take these items separately: long, very typical ornamented dress with religious motifs; scarf with Hebrew letters and starts; if not a veil, at least something to cover the top of my head with, even if adorned only with flowers.
I wouldn’t wear a veil covering my face in the classroom. I think that’s disrespectful to students – there has to be an open, friendly atmosphere in the classroom, and they have to be able to trust me. They, my students, would have the absolute right to see my face and know much more about who I am than other people.
People would be able to see my face, yes, my hands and that’s it. I would prefer not to exhibit either my hair or my neck.
There comes the Canadian employer.
“Hey…so, are you Yara?”
“Yes, sir. Nice to meet you”.
“Ok, Yara, see you soon. Bye”.
You see? I have been already discriminated against even before doing the interview!
But I need the job! So apply for another one. This time, although it hurts me big time and makes me deeply sad, I take off whatever it is that happens to be covering my hair.
“Hello! Are you Yara?”
“Yes. How are you, Mr. Canadian?”
“I’m fine. Well, I call you next month”.
Second time I’ve been discriminated against without having the chance to do the interview.
I’m starting to get hungry!!!!!!!!!!
I apply for another job.
This time, crying already and feeling humiliated, I take off the scarf.
“Hey, there. So you’re Yara?”
“Yes! How are you doing, Mr. Canadian?”
“Well, I’m fine. So, may I call you next week?”.
THE FOURTH TIME!
I’m beginning to get desperate. I schedule an interview with a school director.
I buy a long, simple dress, without any religious motifs, and am still not showing anything besides my hands and my face.
“Hey, Yara. You must be Yara”.
“Will you call me only next week, Mr. Canadian?”
“What?”
“Sorry. How are you, Mr. Canadian?”
“Great. So, let’s see…wow, very impressive grades! You did tremendously well in our test.”
“Thanks. I try to do my best, Mr. Canadian”.
“So, Yara, let’s try having an experimental class. You have 50 minutes”.
[class time elapsed]
“Wonderful! You did really well.”
“Cool!!!”.
“Unfortunately we can only hire one person…”.
“I see… did anyone fair better?”
“Not exactly. But we think we need someone with a different profile to communicate with students. YOU SEE, YARA, TEACHING IS NOT ONLY ABOUT IMPARTING THE KNOWLEDGE”.
“I see…”.
“You studied in many different countries, didn’t you?”
“Yes…”
“Long time in Israel, wow. That’s cool. How’s Israel?”
“Israel is lovely. You should go there with your wife and kids”.
“You bet I will. Germany, nice…and onto Brazil! Soccer! That’s terrific too. Now, I’d love to go to Brazil. So how long have you been in Canada?”
“I’ve been here for five years. I think it’s in my job permit.”
“Yes. Well, I wish you luck here in Canada, Ms. Yara!”
“Thanks, Mr. Canadian, sorry for taking up your time”.
“No problem.”
Do you know what?
The next time I’d have to be in front of the school in shirt and jeans begging for the job because I’m a foreigner!
And there’s always a limit. I’d feel so humiliated that, yes, I wouldn’t have the courage to get out to work. So I’d rather go back to my country, for as much as I hoped to live a better life in Canada and make friends. But no one would like to be friends with someone so weird, even if I worked hard to earn their trust – why do I say that? I know that because I’ve been there before in other countries: you just don’t make friends. You get so isolated that you feel like starting to resort to your close community. But that’s depressing too. So…
[Yara going back home]
This is the world.
Some think it’s good this way. Some think it’s not.
From my point of view, it’s not as good as it could be. From your point of view, it’s wonderful, because I traded my freedom for a better life in Canada. It was my choice. I didn’t want to accept your customs. I’d never be a Canadian in spirit, just like my old fellow Italian worker.
My habits, my accent, the way I dress and behave, that’d haunt me forever. So I’d finally go back home.
And Mr. Canadian wouldn’t have to schedule more useless interviews and force himself to be kind and outgoing.