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As a graduate student in international relations, Ahsen Khan spends
a good deal of his time pondering big topics: globalization, diplomatic
initiatives, conflict resolution - that sort of thing.
But last week, on a bright, late-fall morning, his focus was a lot more
basic. Standing in front of a group of seniors at Boston's New
Mission High School, the Canadian-born Muslim tried to explain how
to point yourself in the direction of Mecca.
It was just one of many questions he and his
colleagues fielded as part of their effort to
respond to the Sept. 11 attacks. If others
could give blood or send donations, they
decided they could team up behind an
equally practical and potentially far-reaching
idea: direct contact that would lend fresh
perspectives and humanity to a conversation
that has become a daily part of many
high-schoolers' lives.
"Indirectly, we felt that by making such
visits, we were striking a blow against
everything the terrorists stood for: the hatred,
the division, the fear, the ignorance," says
Peter Neisuler, who, like Mr. Khan, attends the Fletcher School of
Law and Diplomacy at Tufts University in Medford, Mass., where they
study Islamic civilizations.
Such ideas have been gaining ground nationwide. Whether hosting
foreign-policy experts, Muslims, and military veterans, or participating
in Web exchanges with students in Islamic countries, schools
across the United States have been seeking new ways to help
students grapple with the complex issues surrounding Sept. 11.
This week, many schools are responding to President Bush's request
to invite veterans to speak to students. Dubbed "National Veterans
Awareness Week," its aim is to have veterans relay their firsthand
experiences - and also teach about the value of freedom.
For Valerie Vasti, the high school's curriculum coordinator, it's an
important piece of students' education - and one teachers have to
take advantage of. "We're in a tremendously tragic, but very
teachable moment," she says.
On this particular morning, seated in a classroom in this weathered
building, students get right to the point.
Would you be willing to kill for your religion?" asks student Paul
McKoy.
Khan responds that he prefers fighting with a "pen and knowledge."
"And besides," adds Mr. Neisuler, "Islam doesn't say that if you have
a problem with some people, you should go out and kill them."
Although the seniors are clearly well versed on the events and history
surrounding the attacks, several say they have found real value in
speaking to a Muslim for the first time.
Student Patrick Wallace says he was "surprised to hear how few
Muslims actually support Osama bin Laden."
And, Valon Gregory says, "it was really interesting to discuss
whether we should bomb during the Muslim holy month of Ramadan."
He, along with about a quarter of the class, raised their hands
unhesitatingly when Neisuler asked how many agreed with US
military activities in Afghanistan.
About the same number didn't agree, while half indicated mixed
feelings.
Their responses don't quite jibe with a nationwide survey of young
people taken last week by Newsweek magazine. About 85 percent of
those polled favored the current military action, while 83 percent said
they approved of Mr. Bush's job performance.
Most likely, though, it's just too early in the war on terrorism to gauge
whether students in general will be more like those during World War
II, when campuses and the country were united, or Vietnam, when a
historic clash emerged.
What students in the poll and at New Mission do seem to agree on,
however, is that the future is increasingly unpredictable, and that
values and assumptions will be tested in the next few years.
"Won't we be attacked again?" asks Patrick Wallace, a diminutive
guy wearing a blue hooded sweatshirt.
Neisuler responds, "The best battlefield each of us can fight in is in
our own head, not to let fear get to us."
Khan goes on to discuss what it feels like to be "profiled" as a
Muslim American. Even before Sept. 11, he says, he got second
looks from US airport officials when he flew back from visiting his
family in Pakistan.
"As a son of immigrants from Pakistan, I feel like I am from neither
here nor there," he says.
Later, Neisuler questions whether we will decide to give up our civil
liberties in exchange for safety.
But the humanities teacher, Kona Roberts, challenges his use of the
collective "we." His class has been reading "Howard's End," which
has led them to discuss the concept of artificial unity.
"As minorities, we truly don't reflect the decisions that are being
made," Mr. Roberts says, looking around at a class full of
African-Americans and Hispanics.
"Who of you can walk into a store in [an affluent part of town] and not
get second looks?"
But Patrick is quick to rebuke his teacher, saying, "This is the time
to put our differences aside and say 'we.' "
After class, Roberts says he is proud of Patrick for standing up to
him.
"We're all in this learning together, sharing how our experiences
affect our beliefs, and vice versa," he says.
When asked if teachers at the school have struggled to hold back
their own beliefs about Sept. 11, Ms. Vasti says no.
Most Americans were shocked by the attacks, but young people
lacked any context and need to be exposed to a wide range of
perspectives, she says. |