Nuha Abdulla, Memoir 2

In 2017 I was very lost in high school, I was a timid person, and I was not confident. High School was full of drama; I wake up in the morning and say who will fight today at my Arabic class! I came to America when I was only nine and didn’t know Arabic well. Therefore I had an Arabic course in high school, and let say it was outrageous. The student didn’t like the teacher, nor did the teacher helped the students. In nine grade, I took Arabic and, and a girl named Manal was my friend only in that class, but when I took Arabic 2 in the sophomore year, it was terrible. First, my friend Manal left the course, and the students were disrespectful to the teacher. The teacher was not pleasant to me and would blame me for any wrong thing a classmate would do, but whenever I did good in exams and class, she would never speak and always made me feel as if I’m nothing. When I stood up for the teacher because a student was so disrespectful towards her, she told me to shut up, and I never know why. I’m not the type of person that is very shy or quiet. I always spoke up for myself and others. But I was mistreated, and students in that particular class made fun of me, calling me names like ‘’whitewash.’ and more. I was irritated. I just kept quiet, and time went by; the teacher only made it worse for me. She never helped or asked if I needed help because I never understood anything she made me do; however, I ignored it and moved on. After all, it didn’t matter to me. Yet in n January, I remember I came to class was prepared to learn. Still, the Arabic teacher chooses to bother me and put me down. I remember this because it will forever be in my heart. She told me to stand up on me and says, “oh Nuha Yallah, come up to the board.” I did, and the next I know, she told me to write the word she’s saying in Arabic, and I did write one right. Then she gives me another that was hard to spell for me, I didn’t spell right, and the next thing she said was, “are stupid what you been learning in class? Why are u in my class. Aren’t you embarrassed not knowing to spell a word in Arabic, I will call your parents right now in front of you and the students”. 

I was furious I almost left the class. The students in the classroom were shocked; I said to her, “I’m not stupid, nor I’m embarrassed because I’m learning and there nothing wrong, I misspelled a word and, you can call me parents. I don’t care because my part already  knows I don’t write good Arabic nor read perfectly.” She called my dad, but he didn’t answer her because she had done that to my sisters when they were in high school.  Then she went on and pick on a student who just came from Yemen. I don’t know what she told him but I next thing I saw was a phone flying, the boy was beyond furious he pushed the teacher and almost punched her in the face! I remember his friends stopping him and calming him down, but the boy wanted to beat the teacher. The boy was taken from the class by a dean, and the teacher acted as nothing has happened. The next day in class, few girls came up and told me that I should report the teacher for how she’s treating and blaming me for things, but  I never did! I said, “I don’t want to report her because it just wastes time, plus I’m moving out!”. I regret not reporting the Arabic teacher. The Arabic teacher didn’t show up that day, and I was happy because that meant I wouldn’t be brother today after a week of what happened. The Arabic teacher talked about the boy Who pushed her in, wanting to beat the teacher. Then she started to hint at me and say how disrespectful I am and ashamed of not knowing my culture and language. I exploded on the Arabic teacher. The class seemed surprised at my action because I spoke up for everyone and said to her.” I will never disrespect you or others. Still, you always embarrass me and think I would be sacred if you call my parents, but it just disgusting to the students and me”.  I then left her class, and she called my parents about me, but I didn’t care because I was so done being the nobody in that class. I never felt anonymous in life from a teacher, and it still bothers me how I didn’t speak up and how I kept up with her. I don’t want to say her name because she’s anonymous to me. Everybody in school disliked this teacher, and the way she bullies students and threatens them by their parents is just disgusting. But she wasn’t the only one. 

 I never choose to be anonymous in school; I always asked for help or was complimented about confidence had because that’s me, but when teachers put me anonymously because they dislike me for speaking up for myself, it makes me hate learning. Since the sophomore year, I became a very different person; I was not too fond of school. I almost dropped out because I thought everybody was against me for no reason. But when I moved to another high school, Many of my teachers asked me why I don’t share my answers and writing because I’m a very hard-working student, yet it didn’t matter anymore. Once for my English class we had to write a poem and we not write our names, and I did it, and I showed it to my best friend Maram, and she was impressed by it, and when I give it to my English teacher he was also impressed by it, and he put on board for everyone to see. It felt good, and nobody knew I wrote it. I felt good to be anonymous for once because nobody would judge me.