Lessons in Discipline and Reflection from Days Gone By Noureddine Boutahar

 My junior school years were brimming with memories, both joyous and sorrowful, each offering invaluable lessons from teachers, peers, and the events themselves. These lessons ran the full gamut: academic knowledge, responsibility, social skills, and, most importantly, discipline.

It was my teachers in the 1970s, mostly foreigners, whose exemplary character inspired me to pursue a career in teaching. They emphasized discipline, setting high standards for both themselves and us as exemplary role models. Punctuality and academic integrity were two fundamental virtues instilled in us from a young age. We soon realized that teacher and student absenteeism and tardiness were the foremost forms of corruption, capable of eroding the very bedrock of education. Equally, we understood that cheating in exams was the gravest disservice a student could inflict upon themselves.

Our teachers were rarely, if ever, absent. As students, we were permitted to miss class only under extreme circumstances, such as severe illness. Absences concerned not only the administration but also the teachers, who would inquire about and sometimes penalize us for being late or absent. Take Monsieur Bonguardier, our math teacher, as an illustration. His approach was particularly strict. He would station himself at the classroom door immediately after the bell rang, ready to administer sharp knuckle raps to the crowns of tardy students’ heads. At the sound of the bell, we all hurried to line up outside his classroom to avoid his stern discipline. Latecomers, hoping to evade his knuckles, would sidle into the room, shielding their heads with a hand, a book, a school bag, or even a fold of their clothes.

Discipline outside the classroom extended into it, where we had to be fully attentive and engaged.  Monsieur Bonguardier maintained a strict policy on academic integrity. Any infraction, no matter how minor, would result in an immediate zero. Naturally, cheating was the most obvious offense, but the rules extended much further. Simply looking back during a test could be deemed suspecious enough to warrant a failing grade. Even asking for something as innocuous as an eraser, ruler, or pencil was strictly prohibited. This stringent approach instilled a sense of vigilance in us, making us extremely aware of our every action during exams.

I vividly recall an incident when Monsieur Bonguardier was explaining a math problem while writing on the chalkboard. Out of boredom, surprise, or a sudden insight, someone behind me let out a low whistle, prompting me to turn and glance. Unfortunately, my timing coincided with Monsieur Bonguardier’s, who, without a word, pointed his finger at the door, promptly asking me to leave the room. There was no room for negotiation with him -- he never relented. You had to find a way out, as he would often deliver a swift kick in the butt to hasten your exit. Thankfully, due perhaps to my clean record, I escaped physical reprimand as I exited.

Yet, facing his discipline was preferable to being sent to the principal, whose consequences rivaled those of the Moroccan police at the time. Thus, I lingered outside the classroom for the rest of the period, pondering myriad possible scenarios. As the bell finally chimed and students dispersed, I timidly approached Monsieur Bonguardier, my heart heavy with fear and shame and a palpable sense of regret, seeking forgiveness despite my expectation of rejection. To my astonishment, he responded, 'Tu es excusé cette fois, mais prends garde la prochaine fois,' loosely translating to 'You are excused this time, but be mindful next time.' He never glanced in my direction, never betrayed a hint of empathy or antipathy, continuing to write in his thick book.

Today, as I stand at the twilight of my career and reflect on the challenges I faced in school, I am reminded of a quote from G. Michael Hopf’s post-apocalyptic novel: “Tough times create strong men, strong men create good times, good times create weak men, and weak men create hard times.” I wonder which phase defines our current reality —a question that warrants careful reflection.

The Alarming Normalization of Cheating in Exams Noureddine Boutahar

In recent years, the normalization of cheating has reached alarming levels, infiltrating many aspects of our lives, starting with exams, and threatening the very foundations of ethics, integrity, social trust, and equal opportunities. This disturbing trend poses significant risks to the moral fabric of our society and calls for urgent attention and intervention.

Cheating, once considered a rare, shameful, and strictly reprimanded act, has become increasingly common and, disturbingly, more socially acceptable. This shift is evident in various sectors, including education, business, journalism, science, sports, and even personal relationships. The pressure to succeed, often at any cost, has driven people to resort to dishonest means, rationalizing their actions as necessary, justifiable, or inconsequential.

In the realm of education, cheating has become a pervasive issue—a bad way to a good life. Students cheat for various reasons, often involving a combination of psychological, social, and contextual factors.

First, students often succumb to the temptation of academic dishonesty due to intense competition. Researchers observe that even the most prestigious schools are plagued by cheating scandals in such competitive environments. Plagiarism, copying information, and falsifying academic records become rampant in these circumstances.

Second, high expectations from parents and teachers can drive students to cheat to meet these demands. Success, in our educational system, is measured by students' grades, making them more "performance oriented" than "learning oriented." This overemphasis on grades rather than on learning and understanding has cultivated a culture where cheating is considered a necessary evil. This underscores the need for educational reforms alongside efforts to address cheating.

Third, the pressure to succeed is the driving force behind cheating. The fear of failure and the anxiety of receiving low grades can push students to resort to cheating to avoid the negative consequences and stigma associated with academic failure. This is evidenced by the pervasive incidents of assaults on proctors and student suicides, especially in baccalaureate national exams.

Fourth, a lack of preparation or poor study habits can open the door to cheating. Students who procrastinate or have inadequate study techniques may find themselves unprepared for high-stakes exams and turn to cheating as a last-minute solution.

Fifth, insufficient surveillance or lenient exam proctors can tempt students to cheat, even if they did not initially intend to do so. We have all heard students praise lenient invigilators and criticize those who strictly enforce the rules. Even more troubling is that some parents and guardians have become accomplices in this behavior.

Sixth, easy access to resources, especially technology and information online, has made cheating easier. Unfortunately, technology has dual negative impacts: it distracts many students from exam preparation and provides easy access to cheating during exams. Cell phones and AI tools are now more reliable and accessible for cheating than traditional methods like copying off of classmates.

Seventh, a lack of strong ethical principles leads some students to rationalize cheating by downplaying its seriousness or believing that everyone else is doing it. Sadly, many students who cheat still see themselves as principled, justifying their actions for reasons they consider legitimate.

Eighth, cheating is deeply ingrained in our culture. Students observe that dishonesty is often rewarded in politics and business, shaping their perceptions of cheating based on what they see from role models and society as a whole. When students witness individuals advancing through cheating, they may feel inclined to cheat themselves, regardless of the consequences.

Ninth, a toxic educational environment may increase the students’ proclivity to cheating. If students perceive their teachers or educational institutions as unfair, overly punitive, or leniently punitive, they might cheat as a form of resistance or because the environment makes cheating favorable.

Tenth, peer influence plays a significant role in cheating. As the proverb goes, "Birds of a feather flock together": friends or classmates who cheat can encourage others to do the same, thereby fostering a normalized culture of dishonesty. The situation has reached a critical point where some students openly boast about their ability to cheat and get away with it.

One of the most concerning consequences of the normalization of cheating is its impact on equal opportunities. Cheating creates an uneven playing field where those who engage in dishonest behavior gain an unfair advantage over those who do not. This undermines the principle of meritocracy and perpetuates inequality. When success is achieved through deceit rather than ability and effort, it demoralizes students who strive to succeed honestly and perpetuates a cycle of unfairness.

To combat this issue, it is crucial to promote a culture of integrity and ethical behavior, requiring coordinated efforts from individuals, institutions, and society at large. Also, educational reforms are essential to align assignments with students' interests and needs, reducing the temptation to cheat due to perceived task irrelevance. Furthermore, stringent enforcement of laws and policies is vital to prevent the normalization of cheating from becoming entrenched as a permanent norm. Finally, outdated exam formats should be updated to align with modern learning methods and students learning  interests and styles and to mitigate contemporary forms of cheating.

Echoes of Junior School: Tales of Transition and Triumph Noureddine Boutahar

 In the early '70s, at the tender age of twelve, I was a country bumpkin thrust into the heart of Meknes, wide-eyed and overwhelmed by its towering buildings and bustling streets. The noise, the pace, and the sheer number of people were utterly foreign to me. Each day felt like an adventure, filled with both wonder and bewilderment. I faced a whirlwind of new and challenging experiences daily, each with its own merits and demerits.

After completing primary school in the tranquil countryside, I left my home village for the swarming city of Meknes to further my studies. The transition was anything but smooth; finding a spot in a classroom proved to be a daunting challenge. However, my father was relentless in his efforts to secure a place for me. I vividly remember him tirelessly visiting numerous junior schools in Meknes, moving from one to the next, earnestly pleading with the principals to enroll me.

One day, he returned with a heavy heart and told me that all the schools he had approached were full. He asked if I wanted to return home and tend to the family livestock and work in the fields instead. Determined to pursue my education, I urged him to try once more. Driven by my resolve, he went back to Mohamed Ben Abdellah school principal, in a moment of profound desperation, kneeled, and tried to kiss his feet. The principal, moved by my father's earnest plea, agreed to enroll me and asked me to join the following day.

The school, situated in the city center, was populated mostly by city kids, making my initial adjustment particularly difficult. Yet, my hard work and seriousness eventually helped me forge friendships, primarily with other country kids and those from modest backgrounds. This diligence also earned me the favor of my teachers, many of whom were foreign —French, Belgian, Romanian, and Middle Eastern.

My teachers were a formidable amalgam of seriousness, diligence, and unwavering support, tempered with a strict demeanor. Their dedication to both their vocation and to our success was palpable, instilling in us a sense of being valued and supported in our academic endeavors.

Despite my efforts to fit in, bullies were a constant presence and source of pestering. I avoided them by steering clear of known hotspots, avoiding direct eye contact, and always staying with a friend or two. Nevertheless, I faced discrimination for my skinny frame,  countryside origin, and Amazigh heritage. The bullies often taunted me and hurled names like “beanpole”, “laarubi” —a derogatory word meaning something akin to “hillbilly”, and “chelh” —a denigratory term for Amazigh speaker. I met their insults with calmness, ignoring their provocations and maintaining my self-confidence.

Boarding schools were scarce, so I lived with a family acquaintance, Omi Fatna, a widow with two daughters who were more than a decade older than me. The daughters visited occasionally, as they worked as housemaids for French families. During their absences, I took on household chores, which taught me valuable life skills early on, including washing my own clothes, though I had only few.

My leisure time was divided between outings to the cinema with friends on Sundays and visits to the library on weekdays when school was not in session. Cinemas offered affordable entertainment, igniting a deep-seated passion within me for the art of film. My companions and I delighted in a diverse array of genres, from Westerns to Indian, Egyptian, and French cinema, each worth every penny. Among our favorite actors were luminaries such as Clint Eastwood, Robert De Niro, Al Pacino, Bruce Lee, Marlon Brando, Omar Sharif, Faten Hamama, Mahmoud Lamliji, Ismail Yassine, Hind Rostom, and many others.

Every Rial (penny) given to me by my father, mother, and grandmother, who served as my primary provider, was meticulously set aside for the cinema. Whenever my grandmother planned a visit, she would sell a chicken or two, generously allocating most of the proceeds to me. Her wallet was nothing but her headdress. She tucked her money inside, secured it with a couple of knots, and then hid it beneath another sequined Amazigh scarf or the collar of a sweeping, oversized dress that trailed to the ground.

The City library in Hamria was another frequent haunt. My friends and I would rent books and read them voraciously, passing them among ourselves to read as many as possible each week. This insatiable reading habit greatly improved my language skills, particularly in French and Arabic, and enriched my writing, earning me good grades and praise from my teachers.

I excelled in sports as well, a facet of my life that held considerable sway, elevating my self-assurance and honing crucial social aptitudes. Excelling in basketball, soaring in high jump, and proving skilled in racing and rope climbing, sports served as a conduit to expand my social circle, forging new connections and assuaging the pangs of homesickness, thereby facilitating my integration into the new environment.

Occasionally, I accompanied friends to Bab Jdid Square, a vibrant echo of Jamaa Lafna in Marrakech, teeming with dancers, singers, acrobats, and storytellers. Amidst the lively atmosphere, we immersed ourselves in diverse performances, yet it was the storytellers who charmed me most. Their narratives, usually drawn from Moroccan folklore, concluded with profound moral lessons. As youthful students with limited means, our contributions to the storytellers’ livelihood were scanty. We would often disperse during donation pauses, only to reconvene when the storytelling resumed.

One incident from junior school that I will never forget happened during a sports session in 9th grade. As we were practicing shot-put, my turn came to throw the heavy round metal ball. Just as I was about to release it, my teacher unexpectedly stepped onto the landing sector to direct some students to move away. The ball landed mere inches from him, forcing him to dodge. Though it was not my fault, I quickly apologized. In a fit of anger, the teacher stormed toward me and delivered a harsh slap across my face, throwing me off my stride. The pain was not just physical; it pierced my heart with the sting of injustice. The profound loss of dignity, particularly in the presence of my classmates, has lingered as a haunting memory for many years, etching the negative image of that teacher firmly in my mind ever since.

Financially disadvantaged though I was, a transplant from rural origins, I discovered riches in authentic friendships, priceless experiences, and newfound independence. Catapulted from my comfort zone at a young age, I faced challenges head-on, navigating a strange, intimidating, painful, and frequently bewildering world to forge my own path —occasionally navigating alone, at times guided by circumstance, and oftentimes supported by the guidance of teachers and the companionship of friends.

 

 

From Fields to Classrooms: Lessons in Hard Work and Perseverance Noureddine Boutahar

 I owe a tremendous debt to my parents for providing me with the early foundation of discipline and mindset crucial for success in life. Their guidance instilled in me the enduring values of fortitude, perseverance, hard work, and consistency. While my peers spent their summer holidays at sea or traveling the world, mine were dedicated to toiling alongside my father and uncle in the fields. Instead of modern distractions, my days were immersed in the timeless rhythms of hard labor from sunup to sundown, interspersed with the occasional simple pleasures of traditional games under the stars.

Summer in the countryside was synonymous with the arduous yet fulfilling tasks of harvesting, threshing, winnowing, and storing crops, particularly the golden grains of wheat and barley. Each morning started with delivering breakfast to the harvesters we hired at the local market (Souk) — fragrant mint tea brewed in a large kettle, accompanied by freshly baked bread and creamy butter churned from the milk of our own cows. Later, lunch was transported on muleback, featuring steaming couscous and the refreshing buttermilk, known as Ahlab in our Amazigh tongue. Served in a sturdy large juniper dish, Ahlab was shared amongst the harvesters with wooden spoons. Occasionally, an unexpected grasshopper would leap into the couscous, prompting someone to playfully but mischievously retrieve and consume it, eliciting laughter from some and disgust from others.

Yet, it was the threshing season that held the fondest memories in my heart. The threshing floor, where we worked, was a flat, outdoor surface—usually circular and coated with cow dung. Once the coating dried, we would arrange the stalks of grain on it and employ up to six animals, such as mules, mares, or horses, to tread in circles, separating the ears of grain from the stalks and loosening the grain from the husks. Typically, it was the younger ones, myself included, who were tasked with guiding these equines. This conductor would usually sing soothing occupational traditional songs while walking behind the animals. These work songs served various purposes, such as maintaining morale and keeping both the animals and ourselves engaged.

Following the threshing process, winnowing began. Broken stalks and grain were gathered and tossed into the air using pitchforks. The wind carried away the lighter chaff, while the shorter straw fell a bit farther away, and the heavier grain settled nearby. The grain could then undergo further cleaning by passing through a sieve.

Days were long and scorching, starting early and sometimes lasting late into the night. Yet amidst the toil, I cherished the rituals and etiquette. No one dared enter the threshing floor with shoes on or unwashed. Even visitors removed their footwear before stepping inside, a testament to the respect we held for our labor and the land.

Among the regular visitors were the peddlers who arrived to barter their goods for handfuls of wheat or barley. Watermelon, prickly pear, and exotic fruits not native to our region were a tantalizing sight. My mouth watered at the sight, though I frowned upon the deceptive beggars who roamed in groups, hailing from distant lands. Still, my father never turned them away empty-handed.

The blisteringly hot days seemed endless, prompting us to drink copious amounts of water from a clay pot wrapped in a damp cloth to keep it and the water inside cool, which we kept in the shade of a large nearby tree. In contrast to the usual breakfast of harcha, butter, and mint tea, my mother's lunch offerings changed daily and ran the gamut from Couscous, Tagine, Bissara, curdled milk, Moroccan Rfissa, and more.

Sometimes we worked late into the night, especially on days when the still air offered no help in winnowing the grains from the chaff and stalks. We filled sacks of grain and transported them by mule from the threshing floor to our granary. Then, we would head to the well for a refreshing cold shower, rinsing off the grain dust and sweat from a long, sweltering summer day.

At the start of the school year, I often noticed how my city classmates had smooth, callus-free hands. In contrast, mine were rough with hard calluses from heavy manual labor, along with scars and bruises. However, I was never ashamed of my workman's hands, which were a badge of my farmer's origin. Also I had been taught that people with calloused hands do not have calloused hearts.

Today, as an educator, I often share these stories with my students, admonishing them to treat school with the utmost respect, like a sacred threshing floor. I tell them that school is not merely a place you attend; within these classroom walls, generations hone essential skills such as literacy, numeracy, and critical thinking, paving the way for employment opportunities that sustain their livelihoods. I also remind them of the Roman philosopher Seneca, who wisely remarked, "Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity." That is to say, achievements are not handed out freely; they demand dedication and hard work.

 

Ten Principles of Effective Teaching: Noureddine Boutahar

 Counting down to my retirement in a few months, I find myself reflecting on the significant journey of almost four decades spent in the teaching profession, a voyage filled with moments of growth, challenges, and innumerable rewards. From the classrooms to the workshops, from colleagues to supervisors, and from Moroccan to foreign classrooms, each experience has left an indelible mark on me. Now, as I contemplate the journey ahead for today’s teachers, I feel a strong urge to offer insights geared towards enhancing their teaching practices and alleviating some of the burdens they may face – the very essence of this article.

First, love for one's vocation is of paramount importance. Lacking authentic passion for the teaching profession renders one's professional journey burdensome and devoid of fulfillment. Conversely, embracing one's calling wholeheartedly infuses vitality, dedication, and a mindset conducive to triumph. Enjoying one’s job does not only make it easy but also brings peace of mind, boosts productivity, and enhances performance. As psychologist R J Sternberg aptly posits, genuine love for one's work engenders passion, connection, commitment, and a sense of purpose, thereby fostering creativity and efficacy.

Second, Benjamin Franklin once wisely said, "If you fail to plan, you are planning to fail!" This timeless saying holds true, particularly in the field of education. Success hinges upon meticulous planning, serving not only as a roadmap but also as a tool for foreseeing potential obstacles, optimizing the resources at one’s disposal, and establishing clear objectives to steer one's path towards success. In the context of education, effective planning is vitally necessary and must be a continuous, evolving process. Each class, each school year, and each class stream possesses its own peculiarity and presents unique challenges and opportunities, necessitating a tailored approach. Therefore, consistent review and refinement of lesson plans are essential to adapt to changing circumstances and ensure progress towards successful teaching goals.

Third, in education, fostering meaningful relationships with students is indispensable. Central to this endeavor is the cultivation of mutual respect and rapport. Learning students' first names, lending a compassionate ear and a comforting shoulder, and upholding their dignity are the foundation stones for building strong bridges of connection with students, paving the way for effective teaching and learning. As child psychiatrist James Comer accurately stated, “No significant learning can occur without a significant relationship.”

Fourth, understanding generational differences also is essential in bridging the gap between educators and students. By embracing contemporary tools, media, and concerns, can help teachers not only play students at their game but also tailor their approach to resonate with the evolving needs of their pupils. The interests of Gen Xers do not necessarily align with the preferences of Gen Zs, just as the characteristics of Gen Zs do not necessarily mirror the traits of Gen Alphas. British author, speaker and international advisor on education Sir Ken Robinson reinforces this point when he warns that clinging to outdated paradigms risks alienating millions of today's youth.

Fifth, the ideal balance between permissive and authoritarian teaching style is authoritative, another hallmark of effective teaching. Embracing the traditional teaching adage of "Don't smile until Christmas," or being excessively lenient with students, are extremes that can result in discipline problems and ineffective learning outcomes. However, employing a judicious blend of firmness and empathy will certainly foster an environment of collaboration and mutual respect, one that is conducive to optimal learning and impactful teaching practices. As Aristotle keenly observed, true virtue lies in moderation, lest extremes often descend into folly - "Virtue is a mean between two vices."

Sixth, maintaining a positive attitude and distancing oneself from negativity are crucial for sustaining morale in the teaching profession. Surrounding oneself with positive influences fortifies one's resilience and resolve amidst adversity. In the classroom, the focus should be on giving one’s all, not on advocating for one’s rights or seeking revenge for society's injustices. Compartmentalizing personal biases and affiliations from the educational milieu is essential for fostering inclusivity and impartiality. Union affiliation, political party allegiance, and ideological beliefs should be left beyond the confines of the classroom.

Seventh, modeling integrity is of primary importance in teaching. This value underscores honesty, consistency, and authenticity in one’s words and deeds. Students are vigilant copycats and discerning morality police who will confront inconsistency between rhetoric and action. In Israelmore Ayivor words, “You don’t lead by what you say to them; you lead them by what they see you do. True leaders are self-leaders.”

Eighth, the gamification of learning enhances engagement and retention. We are not only homo sapiens, but homo ludens (man the player) as well. So incorporating games in one’s lessons, regardless of age group, makes learning enjoyable, easy, and engaging. For the American poet, essayist and naturalist Diane Ackerman, “Play is our brain's favorite way of learning,” because humans are not solely rational beings but also playful creatures, and play is not just a frivolous activity, but a serious and essential part of human life.

Ninth, good teachers bookend every lesson with engaging activities. Stimulating warm-up exercises capture students' interest from the start, while compelling concluding activities leave a lasting impression. Introducing elements such as riddles, jokes, proverbs, optical illusion art and so on at the start of the lesson, and concluding with engaging and practical activities that assess understanding, promote critical thinking, address misconceptions, and inspire students, all contribute to minimizing disruptions and enhancing student satisfaction.

Tenth, teaching transcends mere monetary gains; it is about making a difference in the world, earning respect, nurturing genuine connections, and molding young minds. While financial rewards may be scant in teaching, the intangible dividends – witnessing students' joy, gratitude, and success – are immeasurable. While money hold significance too, to me, there is no greater reward than inspiring a fervent love for learning in others. In the realm of teaching, it is not a matter of what one can extract from society, but rather, what one can contribute to it.

In conclusion, I hope these insights gleaned from decades of experience will serve as guiding beacons, especially for novice teachers. Since experience is the greatest teacher, it is essential to heed the wisdom of those who have walked this professional path before. School life has challenged them, tested their resolve, and propelled them to grow.

My Primary School Days: Noureddine Boutahar

The nagging million-dollar question that frequently crosses my mind is whether I was fortunate or unfortunate by not attending a Quranic School. I belong to the select few of my generation who bypassed the traditional route through a Quranic school and dove straight into the realm of government public education.

My primary educational journey in the countryside was both challenging and enriching. The nearest school, which I attended, was situated at a considerable distance from our home. Each morning, I set out alone on a nearly eight-mile trek, and gradually the crowd assembled along the way as other kids joined in. The school day was a lengthy affair, with classes beginning around eight thirty a.m. and concluding at about sixteen hours. To endure these lengthy days, my lunch was a simple yet cherished affair, reflecting the shared experiences of many children in our community. Typically, it consisted of a bottle of fragrant mint tea my mother sealed with a makeshift stopper crafted from a piece of carrot. Accompanying the tea was half a loaf of homemade bread, generously slathered with creamy, hand-churned butter from our own dairy cows. The simple but wholesome flavors of this bread-and-butter combination provided both nourishment and comfort, evoking memories of Audrey Penn's "The Kissing Hand" story, amidst a tiring and lengthy school day.

Occasionally, my mother's resourcefulness shone through, as she would enhance my lunch with the remnants of the previous night's dinner. If there were any stew with vegetable or leftover meat, she would ingeniously transform my meal by filling the bread with these succulent delights, ensuring that every bite was a taste of home and a reminder of the love and care held in her heart for me, even when I was far from the warmth of our family hearth.

Within the school, our revered teacher, Mr. Ourrach, may his soul rest in eternal peace, played a pivotal role in shaping our educational journey. This unforgettable educator, cut a striking figure with his medium height and rectangular physique. Yet, what truly caught the eye was his impeccably sleek, jet-black hair, meticulously styled in a classic side part. He exuded an air of elegance, with his attire consistently immaculate, his garments crisp, and his shoes polished to a brilliant shine. His dedication and passion for teaching left an indelible mark on the minds of all his young students. Mr. Ourrach was not just an instructor, he was a bridge between the classroom and our Moroccan heritage. In his teachings, he used Amazigh language, the native tongue of all the children in our community. Through this linguistic link, Mr. Ourrach made our Arabic and French lessons, and even mathematics, more engaging, connecting these subjects to our cultural heritage in a way that truly resonated with us to the present day.

Another distinctive trait set Mr. Ourrach apart from other educators we had heard of or encountered. He had a cane, a common tool among educators of that era in various Moroccan regions, but it remained unused for its punitive purpose and disciplinary measures. Instead, it served as a symbol of authority and respect; a quality that today's educators would describe as authoritative. It was evident to all that his true passion lay in the nurturing of young minds. He harbored a genuine affection for his students, and his enthusiasm for his profession was tangible in every lesson. This love and dedication did not go unnoticed, or unappreciated. The parents of the students, my own included, held Mr. Ourrach in high regard. Their admiration for his tireless efforts remained unwavering and genuine. He was a remarkable teacher, to say the least, always willing to go the extra mile with his students. His positive attitude to teaching epitomizes everything that a good teacher stands for. If it had not been for him, I would not have gone beyond second or third grade much like many from my generation who fell by the wayside.

Our teacher's home nestled right beside the school, seamlessly integrated into its surroundings. The tantalizing aroma of his wife's culinary creations would frequently waft through the classroom, teasing our senses and stirring our appetites. Being both his favored student and the son of cherished acquaintance, I gratefully received occasional invitations to join him for lunch.

In return for his kindness, it was common for my parents to invite Mr Ourrach and his family, often for dinner or weekend lunches. On these occasions, the dinner table was usually graced with the warmth of hospitality and the enticing aroma of Moroccan Amazigh cuisine. The culinary dishes were skillfully prepared by my mother, my grandmother and my elder sisters. Our family's free-range chickens often took center stage in dishes like Tajine, Couscous, or Marchouch. These gatherings were a testament to the deep sense of community that defined our rural way of life and to the appreciation, respect, and importance attributed to the teacher in the rural society of the sixties and seventies. To put it mildly, these shared meals were a heartfelt gesture of appreciation for the vitally important role Mr Ourrach played in our lives. They also symbolized the intricate connections among education, family, and tradition, aspects that seem to be lacking in today's dwindling culture of teacher appreciation.

The eagerly anticipated afternoon dismissal time from school was a daily highlight, and we, student, would eagerly count down the minutes until we could rush outside and join our peers in various traditional games. These moments were etched into our memories, as the school premises became a playground for our youthful enthusiasm. Whether it was spirited games of tag, stone-throwing, hopscotch, leapfrog, or the ever-thrilling hide and seek, our laughter echoed through the countryside as we embraced the freedom of play. The joy of these games lay not only in the sheer fun they provided but also in the camaraderie and bonds we established with our friends.

These moments not only provided opportunities for play, self-expression, and recreation but also served as a convenient excuse to delay returning home. The impending return home signified the beginning of a list of responsibilities and chores. Getting back early meant embarking on tasks like rounding up stray sheep, trudging to the well to fetch water, leading the horse to its watering spot, cleaning  our dirty clothes, or even collecting dry cow dung for use as fuel in the traditional cooking methods that permeated our daily lives.

Regrettably, during those years, our school had a noticeable absence of female students, a reflection of the prevailing norms and concerns of the time. The limited presence of girls was not solely a matter of choice but a response to the parental apprehensions. Concerns regarding the safety of their daughters, who spent a significant part of the day away from the protective confines of their homes, in the company of boys, were paramount for most parents. Although I have lost count of the precise number of girls within our school, I can affirm with certainty that their number remained notably diminutive, a fact which proved disheartening.

School life is often considered the most memorable phase of our existence. All of us vividly recall both our initial and final days in school, marked by tears of arrival and tears of departure, respectively. Personally, I can distinctly recollect both my first and last days at primary school. Those primary school days were the halcyon days of my life, a treasure trove of boundless joy where each moment brimmed with profound learning experiences and the warmth of cherished friendships. Every moment was embraced as an opportunity to learn, play, and savor the pure delight of childhood. As the eloquent English actress Cara Delevingne once expressed, “I wish my school days could have dragged on a little longer, or that I could go back and do it later in life.”  

The Lark and the Hunter Noureddine Boutahar

 Not too long ago, I was explaining the idiomatic expression "as happy as a lark" to my students. Displaying an image of the bird for more clarity, I inquired if any of them had ever encountered one. To my surprise, the unanimous response was negative. I pointed out that these birds were a common sight in our schoolyard, only to be met with puzzled expressions.

Explaining further, I described how larks boast more intricate calls and elaborate songs compared to many other avian species, often performing extravagant displays during flight. However, instead of enlightenment, my explanation seemed to deepen their sense of wonder.

Reflecting on the reasons behind their lack of familiarity, I considered the overly protective nature of modern-day parents, who confine their children indoors, shielding them from the natural world. Additionally, the pervasive culture of smartphones discourages exploration, research, and curiosity.

This realization evoked a sense of empathy and sadness for today's youth, contrasting their constrained experiences with the freedom and security enjoyed by my own generation. It prompted me to share with them the timeless tale of “The Lark and the Hunter”, hoping to impart a glimpse of the natural wonders they might be missing.

In the tale of the ”The Lark and the Hunter”, a narrative ingrained in our primary school memories, a hunter ensnared a small lark, and the bird eloquently pleaded its case. "I am but a feather's weight and cannot quell your hunger; why not grant me freedom in exchange for three pearls of wisdom that will enrich your life?" The bird laid down additional terms, stating, "I’ll grant them to you this way: one while I linger by your side, the second as I perch upon the tree, and the third when I soar high in the sky." Accepting the lark's proposition, the hunter demanded the first. The lark then imparted—in lyrical verse: "Do not rejoice excessively in your gains." Relinquishing control, the hunter watched as the lark alighted gracefully upon a branch, where it continued its sage counsel, "Nor should you regret past losses." Yet, as the lark took flight into the boundless expanse, the hunter lamented, "Alas! You deceived me; hand over the third." To which the lark responded, "You failed to grasp the essence of the first two; the third shall remain beyond your reach."

The essence of this post encapsulates two key points: Firstly, contemporary children find themselves somewhat disadvantaged due to the constraints imposed upon their freedom within the modern world. Secondly, from my personal perspective, today's schoolbooks seem to be a bit lacking in educational value, as well as falling short in terms of entertainment.