Into a Traditional Islamic Education

By Maymona

Since my arrival in Fes I've imagined what it would be like to enter al-Qarawiyine university. Al-Qarawiyine is why Fes is called medinat l-'ilm: 'the city of knowledge'.  Constructed 1200 years ago, it was, for centuries, a great center of learning for scholars, mainly Muslim but also Jewish, from Islamic Spain, North Africa and Sub-Saharan Africa. Its prominence has declined in the past 100 years, but it is still home to a vibrant community of Islamic scholars.

Al-Qarawiyine has an imposing presence in the Old Fes. Physically it is huge. It is one of the city's largest landmarks, something you notice most when forced to navigate around its perimeter, dodging donkeys and hustlers along the way. Culturally, you notice its impact in how Fessis speak. Unlike most Moroccans, native Fessis, and especially those who live in the old Medina, converse readily in Classical Arabic, the language of Islam. Their speech emphasizes the already prominent sense of religiosity that permeates the medina's alleyways. All of this emanates from Al-Qarawiyine and its centuries of religious tradition.

As a student of Islam, I couldn't help but be drawn to such a place. The image of me sitting at the foot of some great Islamic scholar, in a halqa or study circle, frequently entered my mind this year. The experience of a traditional Islamic education appealed to me, knowing that it was something I couldn't get in America. Additionally, it would give me a new and very rich understanding of Islam, the study of which I hope to make a lifelong pursuit. So I ask a friend of mine with experience studying at al-Qarawiyine to explain exactly what a traditional Islamic education would entail.

Niaz, now living in Turkey, was an English teacher at the American center in Fes and had lived in the Old Medina for a little over 5 years. Along with teaching English, Niaz pursued studies in the classical Islamic tradition with Sheikhs in and around Fes.

One day I met with him to talk about his studies. He explained to my that in Morocco, Islamic scholars follow a particular curriculum that starts with Arabic language study and moves along to different areas of specialization, just as religious law or speculative theology. As he said, "the first step is Arabic, which is the miftah u'lum ad-din, or the key to the religious sciences. Without Arabic you have nothing."

Working within the Islamic tradition requires absolute mastery of Arabic. As a religious scholar you interpret the Qu'ran, Islam's holy text, which is written in Arabic and believed to be the word of God. In order to understand this word to the extent they are able, scholars first study books on grammar, syntax, rhetoric and logic.

Mastery of these subjects prepare yourself to understand all of the more specialized subjects. Quranic commentary and Islamic law are based on linguistics and logic. Without a solid foundation in Arabic, you can't engage with the Islamic intellectual tradition. How do you ensure mastery? Memorization.

"Your time with the sheikh is spent listening to him explain the parts the text you're working on," Niaz explained, "and then you go home and memorize it. Once you memorize a complete text you move on to its commentary, and you follow that progression: learning, understanding and then memorizing."

Memorization is looked down upon in America's education system. We try to create 'independent thinkers' and 'critical thinkers' and the we perceive 'rote memorization' as impeding these goals. If you memorize, you're not thinking and you end up merely reproducing the information you've learned rather than synthesizing it into new, fresh ideas. I witnessed this firsthand in my classroom this year. My students could repeat the previous week's lecture word for word. But when asked a critical thinking question or given a task that required them to synthesize information, they struggled immensely. The Islamic ideal falls somewhere in between.

Notice how Niaz described the learning process: "learning, understanding and then memorizing." An Islamic scholar is not expect to merely reproduce what he's learned, he's expected to apply that knowledge to new and unique intellectual situations. Memorization only comes after you understand what you're learning and how to use it. That information is then internalized so that it can be more quickly synthesized with other information, external or internal, to respond to a given intellectual situation.  The Islamic scholar has the potential to be a synthesizer and critical thinker because of, not despite, his reliance on memorized information.

There's something romantic about becoming this kind of intellectual: an unmediated world of information available to you at all times. No dependence on books or computers; information and ideas fused to your very being.

Technology has made an indelible impression on our relationship with information. Are the changes it has wrought necessarily good? Am I the only person who feels ashamed by my dependence on a calculator or on Google to give me the text of the Gettysburg Address? Can I truly participate in an intellectual culture if I have to look up its fundamental and most influential ideas online or in a reference book? Does that make me an independent thinker?

Needless to say, Niaz had me hooked.

Muslims believe that certain people have the gift of light from God, a certain special charisma that not only enraptures ordinary people but also guides them towards or along the straight path. Of everyone I know, Niaz has that light. It was he who helped a friend of mine convert to Islam, and it was he who helped me decide to stay in Morocc to pursue a traditional Islamic education.

Sunday Morning Political Theater

By Gage Skidmore

One thing I've missed while living in Morocco is television. I don't have a television there (much to the consternation of some of my Moroccan friends), and my Arabic isn't good enough for me to keep up with the soap operas and news programs broadcast in the cafes I frequent. Now back in states I've rekindled my relationship with television, only, as with all old flames, to be disappointed with the results.

This morning my Dad and I watched Meet the Press and This Week which were all about Michelle Bachmann's victory in the Iowa Straw Poll and Tim Pawlenty's decision to drop out of the Republican primary race. Both politicians sat for interviews and I was really shocked by how poorly both they and their interviewers performed.

I'm used to politicians speaking in talking points, but Bachman, in particular, took that to a new level dropping "Obamacare" as well as her birth town of Waterloo, IA in the most logically incongruous places. Pawlenty was laughable with his use of euphemism and childish metaphor; I felt like a little kid when he explained how his lack of success fundraising caused him to consider dropping out of the race: "You know, we just needed a little more fuel to make sure the car could get down the road..."

David Gregory and Matthew Dowd (filling in for Christine Amanpour) aided and abetted both politicians by allowing them to not answer their questions. To his credit, Gregory did get tough on whether Bachmann would allow an atheist/gay to participate in her hypothetical presidential administration. But Dowd was laughable.

I wonder about the rules of television journalism and why it seems that people, especially politicians, are able to avoid their interviewers' questions. The film Frost/Nixon made it seem all about preparation on the part of the interviewer. Through diligent research the interviewer crafts the questions that expose the dirty details that make his subject squirm. This also makes attempts to avoid answering a direct question appear obvious. Maybe reporters don't work as hard as they used to. But what do you do when someone like Bachmann attempts to explain away her description of homosexuality as 'personal bondage' by saying she has 'great respect' for homosexuals? Is it too far to say, 'that answer doesn't make any sense'?

There is also the viewer's responsibility to uncover a speaker's logical fallacies and determine for his or herself whether someone is trustworthy. But, as Neil Postmann argues, oftentimes our emotions overwhelm our logical faculties, and images communicate a great deal of emotion. Make them move and give them music, and you realize just how emotionally manipulative television can be. This is why The Onion and the Daily Show are so funny. They purport seriousness through the visual and aural tropes used by regular news programs and use that 'credibility' to make great satire. If by such meager means they're able to create the verisimilitude of seriousness, then how serious can the rest of the television news media really be? Based on today's performances, not very.

Beyond the interviews, it was shocking to see how superficial our political culture has become. Both programs featured roundtables which spent most of their time talking about who are the 'winners' and 'losers' of the straw poll and what it means for President Obama. While it seemed that the participants wanted to talk about the 'serious issues' surrounding this phase of the presidential election process, the talk boiled down to a discussion of appearances: an important factor for Governor Rick Perry was his 'Texas swagger' and how he will 'appear' to voters; both Republicans and Democrats 'look bad' as a result of the debt ceiling debate; Republicans are concerned that the primary with draw the party to the far right, forcing their nominee to 'lurch back to the middle' to 'appear' more mainstream for the general election. It might as well be a beauty pageant. As a politician in a television dominated society, how you look matters as much as or more than who you are. This is why we spend time discussing whether a candidate 'looks presidential'.

As we drank our coffee, my Dad looked at me and said, "What do you think about all of this now that your home?" After explaining the frustration I felt, I added, "It's all crazy and ridiculous. That's why Moroccans have a King."

What will become of February 20?

Flickr.com by Magharebia

Today, the Angry Arab asked why the Western media are ignoring continued protests against the King Muhammad VI's reforms. He cites news (also here) that thousands of Moroccans protested on Sunday against the newly adopted constitutional reforms. The protests were potent in their symbolism, taking place the day after Throne Day, the anniversay of the King's coronation, and the same day Morocco's government officials renew their allegiance to the Monarch.

One reason why the West may be 'ignoring' these protests is because they are not very surprising. The February 20 movement, and other opposition groups, boycotted the constitutional referendum. It's natural they would continue to protest as the King and Morocco's political mainstream move forward with the reforms they don't approve of. 

I think the bigger question in all of this is what will become of the February 20 movement?

Earlier, I wrote that the youth protesters' boycott of the constitutional referendum left them in a decidedly weaker political position. It appears that this position is only getting worse. The King's recent announcement to hold "prompt" parliamentary elections puts February 20 at a severe disadvantage. While the movement has been effective at organizing rallies, I doubt it will be able to organize itself as an effective political party in time for these new elections; the movement is unaffiliated with a political party and, moreover, is at odds with the political establishment. It stands to lose nearly everything if it is excluded from the new House of Representatives, which will ostensibly work to implement Morocco's new constitutional reforms.

Since March, Morocco's monarchy and political mainstream have orchestrated a brilliant political and social campaign aimed at marginalizing the country's true political opposition and co-opting Moroccans' revolutionary energy for their own means. With King announcing reforms, and the political mainstream standing by him, February 20 was left in an impossible situation. By accepting the reforms, they would have aligned themselves with the political status quo they oppose so fervently. By opposing them, they aligned themselves with Morocco's political fringe and also bordered on transgressing one of the country's biggest social taboos: questioning the legitimacy of the Crown. The decision to boycott allowed the group to retain it's legitimacy with its supporters, which is why it's been able to continue to protest. But it is losing its broader support.

Speaking with my Moroccan friends, it appears that the government's efforts have succeeded. One friend, a student at Al-Akhawayne University who voted 'No' in the constitutional referendum, questioned the group's objectives, stating that they "are not clear" and are difficult to stand by. She also said that the group needs to appear "more reliable" and that "they are not the only ones who want change, we all want it ... [but] they want revolutionary change, which is not easy, especially when not everyone agree[s] with them." Regardless if these opinions are true and reasonable, this is exactly what the monarchy wants Moroccans to think. With February 20 perceived in such a way, the only path to certain and stable reform is through the new constitution, which, of course, keeps political power in the same place it's always been.

It's hard to think of what February 20 could have done differently. If they had participated in the referendum, it's unlikely their voice would have been represented accurately. I doubt the government would have given 'No' voters more than 5% of the vote, thus making them look just as fringe-y as they do now. But maybe not.

If February 20 had demonstrated a willingness to work within the status quo, then charges of being 'revolutionary' would appear fanciful rather than realistic. If they had come out to vote in force, mobilizing as many supporters as possible to be as vocal as possible in the referendum, then, based on the results, they would have had an opportunity to legitimately disparage the corruption of Morocco's existing 'democratic' institutions. More so, it would have given them practice for mobilizing in the all-so-important parliamentary elections. But what's done is done.

It is easy for me to sit behind my computer and say what could have or should have been. It's not fair to the brave young Moroccans who risked their lives and livelihoods protesting on the streets for me to do so. And for that I apologize. It just saddens me to think that what may have been Morocco's 'Youth Revolution' has become the 'King's Revolution' and that weak constitutional reforms will be the only reforms Moroccans see for some time to come.

Morocco's Universities: Money Laundering 101

 
This article from AllAfrica.com caught my eye today. It details some of the problems that have stifled higher education reform in Morocco. Here are some key points from the article:

• Morocco has 15 public universities. The total number of students enrolled in 2009-2010 was 306,595. (That's 0.95% of Morocco's 32 million people. The United States has approximately 14.2 million university students or about 4.75% of the total population.)
• King Hassan II enacted sweeping education reform in 1999, the year of his death, that was continued by his son and successor Mohammed VI. A major piece of this reform was granting financial and administrative autonomy to the university administrations. Another aspect of the reform was the adoption of a modular system, diving the academic year into semesters and the semesters into modules. The reforms also created Masters Degrees for the first time. 
• Sources quoted in the article complained about the backwardness of Morocco's teaching standards and practices. They stated how they desire "training" for the work force, not "teaching", which is all students receive now.

Not much in the article surprised me. I can vouch for bad teaching conditions, poor pedagogy, and an overall dysfunctional system. What did surprise me was that each university has control over its finances. To me this just seems like a terrible idea.

The article cites a "statement of accounts" from the Faculty of Arts and Humanities of Ben-Msik in Casablanca. It spent over $800,000 in 2010, so, as the article says, it has plenty of money. But $60,000 of this went to "catering and accommodation" which is funny because Ben-Msik "has no restaurant and no residence halls for students." At least they spent $633 on books for the library.

I understand the logic behind making your universities autonomous. It's an 'enlightened' thing to do. Having all of your universities under a large, centralized administration can be inefficient and ineffective, that's obvious. Also, the idea of having a single curriculum for the whole country (which still exists more or less) runs contrary to a 'liberal' concept of higher education. But at the same time, I can't imagine trying to enact major reforms in a country as corrupt as Morocco by reducing the accountability on the actors you depend on to enact said reforms. No wonder the situation hasn't improved in 12 years.

I always wondered why the situation seemed so stagnant at my university. Regular strikes against the poor conditions never achieved substantial changes. I had thought maybe it was a sinister plot by the Ministry of Education to keep Moroccans poorly educated so that they were easier to manipulate. That may still be true, but the simpler and more probable answer is that there's a lot of money to be made in running a dysfunctional public university in Morocco. An average professor's annual salary is about $13,500. If the Ministry of Education gives each university $800,000 every year, then the Dean probably takes $50,000, the Vice-Dean $25,000, and so on down the line until everyone gets a cut. Whatever is left goes to books.

Clearly, more accountability is the solution. I'm not an expert in education reform, but I imagine that if each university were held responsible for such things the number of books in its library, the student to faculty ratio, test scores, etc., it would bring about many positive changes. But this is hard to achieve in a place where people can be easily persuaded to overlook certain things everywhere, not just in the higher education system. Without a doubt, the biggest obstacle to Morocco's economic and social development its culture of corruption

And I always found it so strange why my department never wanted me to make copies.

Which Morocco does the American News Media See?

http://www.flickr.com/photos/44866093@N05/

It's been nearly four weeks since Moroccans approved King Muhammad VI's constitutional reforms, and the American and European media remains split between praise for and skepticism of the nation's step towards democracy. Depending on who you read, watch or listen to, you can come away with radically different perspectives on Morocco's political situation. To make sense of these points of view, today I'm asking the news media, "Which Morocco do you see?"

Writing in the New York Times, columnist Nicholas Kristof presents a single-minded view of Morocco's protests and reform movement. He favors the 'fight the power' narrative, exclusively quoting street protesters and liberal political activists critical of the monarchy and desiring a change to full democracy. He portrays the monarchy as "grudgingly" moderate, citing contradictions between prior reforms and the current lack of political freedoms to illustrate the government's equivocal commitment to democratization. In the end, Kristof places Morocco at a crossroads, between real reform and a violent crackdown, a la Bahrain and Yemen, and stating that there is a "whisper of hope" that King Muhammad will do "the right thing."

We find a more balanced assessment of the political situation in Aida Alami's report on the constitutional referendum, also for the New York Times. She begins by quoting an exchange in which a taxi passenger criticizes the February 20 movement for continuing their protests: "Can’t they just leave us in peace. They wanted a new constitution. They got it. What else do they want?" The driver responds, "They are fighting for our rights. I hope they keep on marching until our health and education systems are fixed and corruption, the biggest ill of this country, is gone."

With this frame, she goes on to illustrate some of the constitutional referendum's key drawbacks: the short period of time between the announcement of the reforms and the vote itself, how the King's support for the reforms may have influenced the vote, and the reform's failure to fully address the pro-democracy movement's demands. Her article concludes by predicting that the protest movement will continue until it achieves its goals.

On the other side of the spectrum are the journalists who have joined many Western governments in praising Morocco for its peaceful and 'real' response to the protest movements. The best example of this is CNN's Fareed Zakaria whose interview with Taieb Fassi Firhi, Morocco's Foreign Minister, last Sunday gave the Moroccan government 8 minutes in the limelight to plug its take on the constitutional reforms.

Zakaria introduces Firhi, stating that Morocco, unlike other Arab Countries, "seems to be doing something right" in its response to the February 20 pro-democracy protests. Firhi comes across as harmless (undoubtedly aided by his poor English), and spends the interview explaining how the Monarchy has always supported reform ('we've been reforming for decades'), is moderate both politically and religiously, and is a "special" and "wonderful" place. You come away from the interview enamored with Morocco, the land of adorable government officials who love democracy and moderate Muslims who love Jews.

So how can we make sense of all of this?

This media coverage illustrates the convergence of two narratives: "Arab authoritarianism" and "Moroccan exceptionalism." Kristof strongly represents the former. His article rests on several assumptions: Arab autocrats abhor democracy, only enact superficial reforms that they are doubtful to implement, and pro-democracy movements are always right and deserve our sympathy. This is a pretty simple approach to a complex situation, and Kristof makes some errors.

He never questions whether 'democracy now' is the best step for Morocco. He doesn't address any of the challenges associated with a democratic transition in Morocco, namely illiteracy, corruption and economic inequality. The question of creating real democratic institutions in a country of 50% illiteracy is never addressed. He mentions corruption as one of the nation's ills under the King, but never considers what its role would be in a new Moroccan democracy. And lastly, he makes no mention of the nation's extreme economic inequality which, as we've seen in America, can have a huge effect on democratic politics. But none of these nuances matter to Kristof because they complicate his over-arching narrative.

Alami gets closer to addressing these complexities, but her reportage is incomplete. She brings attention to the shortcomings of the February 20 movement, namely their failure to generate popular support akin to the protest movements in Tunisia and Egypt, but she fails to give much attention to those who oppose them. This is because she follows Kristof in implying that opposition to democracy comes from the powers at be and is illegitimate. Pro-Democracy protesters have unquestionable moral superiority, which is a problematic quality to ascribe to a political movement. It's possible that the woman she quotes as being "fed up" with the protesters has real, morally and politically justifiable reasons for feeling that way, but we're never given the opportunity to judge for ourselves.

At the other extreme is Zakaria, who allowed Foreign Minister Firhi to blast the "Moroccan exceptionalism" narrative across the airwaves. In this story, Morocco is and has always been different from other Arab countries. Yes, it's an autocracy, but it's been reforming for decades. Yes, it's Arab, but also Berber, so Morocco embraces diversity. Yes, it's Muslim, but its extremists are "relatively moderate" and Moroccans love Jews. Implied in all of this is, "we're the nice Arabs, so if you want to go to the Middle East on vacation, come to Morocco, or if your company wants to invest in the Middle East, invest in Morroco."

This narrative is equally as simplistic as Kristof's. The statement that Morocco has been reforming for decades brushes over past oppression and the current lack of political liberties, namely freedom of the press. Assertions of cultural and religious diversity and moderation are historically accurate, but tend to be exaggerated. Fareed Zakaria mentioned how the King of Morocco sheltered 200,000 Jews during World War Two, but said nothing about how or why those Jews suddenly left Morocco in the 1950s. This is the story that Morocco's government would like everyone to hear and believe, but is grossly incomplete.

The failure to address complexity and nuance is commonplace in today's journalism. Readers and viewers expect a complete story in 1000 or 1500 words or 5-10 minutes or less. This puts extreme limits on a journalist's ability to convey a complete, multifaceted story. As a result, some, like Kristof and Zakaria, forego any attempts to balance their narratives. Others, like Alami, try, but for whatever reason, fail to do so.

With Morocco as an example, we can see that it is difficult to find complete coverage of complex world events in any one media source. It is a reader's and viewer's responsibility to read and watch widely. But even then, it's hard to find intelligent, nuanced analysis in today's media environment.

Thoughts on Morocco's new Constitution

A few months ago, I wrote that despite the energy of the Arab Spring, serious change wouldn't come to Morocco. I said that a mentality of stability permeates Moroccan society from the top down. The King wants stability for the benefit of his country's economy and society (and his political fortunes). Morocco's political elites want stability because they benefit from the status quo. The average Moroccan, as dire as his or her situation may be, also values stability because drastic change is so disruptive and often does not produce the desired outcome.

And yet protests came. The February 20 movement formed as a small but vocal opposition, calling for democratic reforms and claiming to represent the collective interests of Morocco's youth, by far the most disenfranchised section of the population. As the demonstrations continued, the King decided to respond, calling for constitutional reforms in March that were announced in late June and then put to a vote on July 1st.

What does it mean that these reforms, at best a small step towards real democracy, passed with 98% approval? Why did the monarchy choose reform in the first place? And what is the future of the February 20 and other opposition movements?

The result of Morocco's constitutional referendum was never in doubt. The whole process conflated the issue of constitutional reform with supporting the King. Holding the referendum a mere two weeks after Muhammad VI announced the reforms and declared "I'm voting yes" never allowed the question "will you vote yes in the referendum?" to take on any meaning other than "will you vote yes to the King?" Which is why the 98% approval of the reforms is neither surprising nor probably inaccurate. Morocco's monarchy is sacred, it is not questioned.

These are all reasons why the pro-democracy opposition - February 20 and others - boycotted the referendum. A boycott was the most politically viable way for these groups to express their displeasure with the constitutional reforms. An organized 'vote No' campaign would have failed on many fronts: if February 20 had been able to garner significant voter support, without appearing to oppose the King, it's unlikely the Interior Ministry would have let it show in the final results. February 20 can also claim the 25% of Moroccans who didn't participate in the referendum did so as an act of opposition, strengthening their political position. But will these tactics prove effective?

I think no matter how you look at it, February 20 came out of the referendum in a decidedly weaker position. It appears now that their strength was exaggerated. The moderate success of nationwide protests, several few high profile incidents (self-immolations, police beatings, etc.) and the energy of the region gave them sympathy both in Morocco and abroad. But the failure to impact the referendum, by choice and circumstance, diminishes that prestige. Now more than ever do they appear to represent the political margin, one that refuses to cooperate with the powers at be.

So what will the future bring?

I believe, the Monarchy and political mainstream will put increasing pressure on February 20 for their lack of participation in the referendum. You can already see the Moroccan media marginalizing the movement. This will stifle a real discussion about the Morocco's direction as the opposition loses its relevance and legitimacy. Moroccans are stuck with what they were given, and will have to make due.

To many, both in and out of Morocco, the constitutional reforms represented the monarchy's superficial concession to calls for democratic reform. Some changes did occur, and some of them even good. Whether those changes become manifest and Morocco takes a real step towards a democracy, remains to be seen. Nonetheless, Morocco has had its change, at least for now.

Osama bin Laden, September 11, Cafe Argana and my Students

A week ago I was traveling through Morocco with my brothers. This was my brothers' first visit to an Arab, Muslim country. I was anxious to introduce them to Moroccans so they could replace their American media derived notions of Arabs and Muslims with real interactions and experiences. We had mint tea with a leather craftsmen. We listened to gnawa music. My brothers saw me teach and met my students. But when Cafe Argana was bombed in Marrakech, those memories disappeared to be replaced with turbans, beards and 'Death to America'.

We were in El Jedida when the bombing occurred. I worked hard to reassure my brothers that they had nothing to worry about. "This is a very un-Moroccan thing", I told them, "Moroccans are warm, open people. They are peaceful and not violent."

We traveled to Marrakech a few days after the attack. The seemingly untouched wreckage of Cafe Argana imbued the Jama'a l-Ifna, Marrakech's main square, with tension. Combined with cool temperatures and rain, the whole city seemed caught in a mournful stupor. It was an awkward place to be. With the news of Osama bin Laden's death, and the potential for retribution, we decided to leave Marrakech a day early.

In light of these events, I decided that I would address terrorism in my next U.S. Culture class. I knew that at some point I would have to address September 11, the defining event in America's contemporary history. The Marrakech bombing and Bin Laden's death made such a discussion all the more pertinent. I wanted to deal with terrorism from a 'human' perspective, helping my students to understand the universal nature of the fear and insecurity that such wanton acts of violence create. I was also curious to how my students would feel about these three events. To my brothers I had defended Moroccans as peaceful, so wouldn't they share my sadness about Cafe Argana and Americans' despair over September 11? Wouldn't they understand why we killed Bin Laden?

My class met this morning. Below are the questions I asked and some of the responses they garnered:

What did you feel when you heard about the Marrakech bombing?

• I was shocked and I was sad for all of the people who died.
• I was disappointed because of what it means for Morocco. All of the unrest in the Middle East has brought terrorists to Morocco and they are trying to unsettle the country. The bombing in Marrakech is disappointing because it destroys our hope of a peaceful transition to democracy.

What did you feel when you heard about Osama bin Laden's death?

• I do not believe he is dead. Where is his body? I must see his body.
• I felt sad to lose him. Osama bin Laden was a great Muslim leader and did great things for Islam.
• I was shocked and I don't believe he died.
• Americans said they killed the snake, but remember that snakes lay eggs.
• I was happy he died because he was a bad man who killed many people and distorted the image of Islam in the world.

What did you feel when you heard about the September 11 attacks?

• I was happy because it was a great blow to America, the supporter of Israel who occupies Palestine and kills innocent Palestinian men, women and children.
• I was happy, I thought it was a gift to Islam.
• I was sad because the people who worked there were innocent and not bad people. 

Some of you probably guessed where this post was heading.

I have lived in Morocco for a total of nine months. I've never  been seriously concerned for my well being or safety. My experiences with Moroccans have, for the great part, been positive. Before today I had never heard a Moroccan voice such 'extreme' views. But this was a bit of a reality check. The moment one of my students said, "I was sad when Osama bin Laden died, he was a great Muslim leader", my head fell out of the clouds.

I love Morocco, and to a certain extent I idealize it. I won't say that what I heard today surprised me, but I had never interacted with Moroccans in such a before. These opinions are not entirely outrageous. There is no denying that America has done a lot of harm to the Middle East and the Muslim world. But I was not expecting this type of frustration and anger to show in place of the kindness and compassion that I've come to expect from Moroccans.

Similarly, I was caught off guard. Until today I didn't realize all that I represent in my position. I've been conscious of my unique role as an American teacher at the university since arriving. I knew that as the only American teacher at my university, my presence stood for certain things. As a native speaker I embody the language my students desire to learn. As a young teacher I demonstrate the possibility to be successful through hard work and dedication. As an American I represent a society and culture they aspire to create for themselves. But I also represent a government that many of them would label as 'terrorist'. Because of this, do I cease to represent these other things?

Does thinking September 11 was a 'gift' invalidate a person's kindness and generosity towards me?

I don't think so. But I do think it is sad that such bright young people can hold such callous beliefs.