My fellow passengers shared my nervousness as we traveled in the back of a Mine Resistant Ambush Protected (MRAP) vehicle on our way to school. We were going to have to face classrooms of children. But what would we say? Would we do something culturally wrong? I wondered if we would be allowed to hug the kids or do "high fives" or what we would talk about.
Once we left the Main Supply Route (MSR), or highway as we would call it back home, the apprehension grew. It is not easy to see out of an MRAP. We were in full battle rattle and strapped down to our seats, with little windows about forehead level. By straining my neck, I could see that we were no longer on paved roads, eventually arriving at a cluster of buildings. Most looked like old brick buildings with the stucco cracking and falling off, each surrounded by walls. A few looked new and fairly modern. Several buildings were in the midst of the construction process and actually had large glass windows. Cars were parked along the roads and in front of some of the homes. An assortment of wires were strung from the roof tops.
The wires were not high on poles up high, which caused some problems for us in our huge vehicle. The gunner climbed out on top to try and raise a wire up so we could pass under it. We did not want to cut off electricity to the homes. Unfortunately, as the gunner let loose some colorful language, we learned that the wire was hot and not insulated correctly. He was okay though while we all had a nervous laugh. The driver finally maneuvered the top heavy vehicle down into a deep ditch to get low enough as the convoy commander yelled over the radio to just drive through because we were staying in one place too long. Crisis averted, our convoy finally arrived at the school.
Once in the classrooms, our apprehensions were out the window. We were greeted with smiles, some shy and some beaming. The small school had six classrooms, one for each grade, and it seemed the younger the students were, the more outgoing they were. The first graders wanted to say hello in English and shake hands while the fifth graders wanted to show off their English skills by reciting the alphabet and counting in English. The oldest class of sixth graders was all boys, but there were only seven of them. The fifth grade teacher told us that two of his students had recently lost their fathers in an automobile accident. I noticed that all of the instructors and the head master were men.
Through interpreters, we asked the children questions. The interpreter with my group was a young Army specialist who lived in Iraq as a child and is now in the Texas National Guard. She was having a great time with the kids. We started by asking the children their names and their favorite subjects in school. Although the fifth graders all said English, I think they may have been trying to impress us. I thought about recess myself, and asked them what sport they liked. Soccer was the all around favorite. Thumbs up seems to be an universal sign.
While there, we handed out school supplies to each child who had a small backpack. However, I couldn't help but notice how there were no book cases or cabinets in any of the classrooms, only desks that consisted of benches and a flat table that sat two to four students, depending on the size of the student. Each class room had a chalk board, but that was all. There did not seem to be a lunch room or even a bathroom. The windows did not have glass.
There was one little boy I noticed who had a Spiderman backpack so I asked him if he knew the "Spiderman" song. He shook his head no, so of course, I had to sing it for him. He looked at me as if I had three heads. Maybe that was the cultural faux pas that I had been worrying about on the way there?
Iraqi School in the background.
Making new friends!
Some soldiers read to the students at this school.
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