The Eyes Say it All

Teaching Omani young adults has been one of the most powerful experiences I have ever had. Our students are comfortable in their skin. As Gus has pointed out since the beginning, none of them has “issues.” We could comfortably say that 98% of them have no issues. They love their families and they are kind and helpful to us and to each other. No one gets left out. Having no issues is another way of saying they are positive, open human beings with no agenda and no emotional illness. This is our experience with them.

Every student is beautiful. I have fallen in love with each of them. One gets to know each student’s heart through the eyes, voice and facial expressions, both subtle and obvious. There is no chance to pre-judge a student by way of clothes. There is no internal voice saying, “Yikes, her clothes aren’t matching.” Or, “ooh, what luscious colors she’s wearing,” or “oh, dear! Poor girl. Her clothes are too tight!” No chance for judgement – only communication through the eyes and expressiveness of the face and voice.

The norm, as students enter the class, is for them to greet me, one by one. I hear exuberant, “Hello Teacher!”s. and gentle “hello teacher, how are you?”s 75% come to interrupt my preparation for class/writing on the board, with a handshake. Most recently one student has introduced me to one of the most intimate acts I see between friends – touching noses 3 times.

Last week one of my students came in with the same brand new scarf as my brand new scarf only the colors were in reverse. She said, “Teacher, wear the scarf like this,” signaling to her headscarf. She sat me down and proceeded to put my scarf on my head. From out of nowhere another student supplied the pin. I taught the whole reading-writing class with my head and neck covered with my delicious, heavy cotton, simple, new white with black trim scarf. It was a little tight around the neck but, being “winter” here, it was cozy having something on my head (I remember that in New Jersey winters I’d wear my wool hat through the halls before class started cause it felt secure and cozy). As students entered our reading-writing class they smiled broadly and said, “very nice!” and “you are beautiful.” I was worried the scarf on the teacher might be a distraction during classs but, thankfully, class went on as normal. This being my last class of the day, I went off to meet Gus for lunch. I kept the scarf on long enough for him to see, then took it off as fast as I could. Walking from class to the cafeteria drew a lot of unwanted attention from passersby.

My dear student tells me I should wear the scarf everyday. Several days ago she and I had our weekly tutorial session. I told her that I didn’t feel comfortable because, as a Western woman, I bring on more attention wearing the scarf. It was a little embarrassing, although, I suppose, I, and everyone else, would become accustomed to it.

I appreciate the head covering and abayas (women’s full length black cloak) and disdashas (men’s full length white gown), not only for my own experience of getting to know the students through their eyes, but also for what it means to them. Covering one’s physique does make one more humble, I think. It joins the wearer to the community, being part of the whole, never being alone or singled out. Never left to one’s own devices. Yet, there is an individual, with her own individuality. These young women seem stronger and more confident than most young women I’ve met in the US (let alone this here woman when she was in her late teens and early twenties). Gus so eloquently said, “[The Omani individual] is not a free agent, which is so admired in the West. [He/She] is inextricably bound to family and community, but within that, there is freedom and unity with the Universe.”