Mohsen Ezz El-Din Al-Bakr
Registered Member
The Extinguishing of Genius Candles
"This student is a genius, a true talent! I will nurture his potential with everything I have; he is destined for greatness."
"This student is far more brilliant than his peers. I will give him extra, specialized material."
"Amazing! This student comprehends things far beyond his grade level. Thank you, you are a creator!"
"You impress me. Keep going. Brilliant work, my son!"
The results were posted. This student was number one, unrivaled. "Congratulations, my son. You deserve to be first, always."
This student didn’t just have the highest grades in his class, but the highest in the entire school.
"I am so joyful! My efforts have borne fruit. Congratulations on your excellence, dear."
The student replied: "It is all thanks to your support, teacher. You are a partner in my success."
"Yes, your success is mine. I wish you continued excellence in the coming years."
Summer passed. A new academic year began. Once again, at the end of the year, this student topped the list. He was the highest-achiever in the whole school.
"Thank you, my son. You have made me happy again. I am honored to have a student like you."
The student: "It is all because of you, teacher."
The student became my pupil and my friend. He admired his teacher, and I admired his talent and refined character.
The third year arrived.
"Welcome, students. I am happy to see you again. Do you know when our education and our country will develop and become great?"
The students asked: "When?"
"When all of you, and all students in this country, become like this creative student," I said, pointing to my favorite pupil.
The students cheered. Our star student felt a mix of joy and a beautiful, modest shyness.
After a period of continued support...
The student said: "Teacher, they say all the sciences you teach us are incorrect."
"Like what, my son?"
"That the Earth is not spherical!"
"What else?"
"The Earth does not rotate."
"Go on..."
"No one ever went to space."
"Tell me, is there another catastrophe they claim?"
Student: "Yes, they say mathematics is just superstition, a waste of time, and useless."
"And what else!!?"
"They say the Earth is not a tiny planet on the fringes of a galaxy!"
He began to demolish science and shatter the scientific method.
"Who said this?"
Student: "The Sheikh told us."
Damn it! No sooner had I lit a candle of genius than that Sheikh came and blew it out.
"Who is this Sheikh?"
Student: "Sheikh so-and-so."
Him!!! Yes, I remember. I taught him over ten years ago. He was the dullest student in the class. He used to show up with one eye closed, not fully waking up until the third period. When asked how many teachers had entered the class, he’d say "one," because he had just woken up and missed the two teachers before him.
I remember this Sheikh repeated the fourth grade for years. He was the tallest among the children, to the point that he came to me and said: "Promote me to the fifth grade this time, and you can leave me there for ten years."
"And why the fifth grade?"
The Student-Sheikh: "Because I am ashamed of sharpening a lead pencil at my age. In the fifth grade, I can use an ink pen."
"Fine, but on one condition: don't tell anyone. I will adjust your grades and move you to the next stage."
After that, this Sheikh "graduated" with his bachelor's from the fifth grade; he stayed there for four years then dropped out. He spent years loitering.
But this year, he became a "Sheikh."
In less than a year, he became a scholar in geography and astronomy.
In less than a year, he became a physicist, a chemist, and even a doctor with a single prescription for all diseases. Meanwhile, we had a Russian gynecologist in our city who spent fifteen years with us, and probably twenty years in her own country before that—she was old when she arrived. Yet, with all those years of experience, her expertise never exceeded the region of the womb.
He became an economist too! All this in less than a year. I have been a teacher for decades; I haven't let a research paper or a book pass without reading it—I truly can't count how much I've read. Yet, I am still just a middle school teacher, perhaps not even qualified for high school. And this guy became a "Superman of Science" in less than a year!
Should I debate that Sheikh? He only has thirteen pieces of information in his mind. When they run out, he resorts to bickering and violent attacks. Why? Because the language of kicking and goring is the easiest.
Every creature masters this language: the donkey kicks, the cow gores, and the dog bites. But they cannot debate you as a human, and neither can he. When the mind lacks arguments or information, the debater turns to provocation.
He will attack you, hurl accusations, and make noise just to move the match onto a pile of rocks so that no one can tell the skilled player from the incompetent one. If we played on a real field, he couldn't play at all. His legs are like the front tires of a plow—one rises while the other sinks. He is unfit to play, so playing on the rocks is better for him, to end the dialogue quickly... perhaps in the hospital or the grave.
I tried to speak to him cautiously, like pulling a coal from under a pot in the wilderness, keeping the heat away from my face.
I succeeded; he is calm now. When his thirteen "facts" were exhausted—and they are still only thirteen, as he adds nothing new—he said to me: "These are worldly sciences; ours are religious sciences."
Astonishing! He just added his fourteenth piece of information.
I replied: "Then stay with your sciences, and we will grant you a 'Professor' certificate in that field, stamped with a thousand seals. But leave the worldly sciences to their people."
I continued teaching, and every time I lit a candle, that old failure-turned-Sheikh would come to blow it out.
Then, a new disaster.
The teachers themselves began demolishing science, abandoning the curriculum where the world "dances," to dance in the depths of the valleys. Meanwhile, the drums and music are playing in a village a thousand meters above them. Strangely, they don't hear the drums, they have no light, and they dance in the dark. Otherwise, the curriculum is the rhythm the world dances to.
Damn it. I will blow out my own candle too.
I will quit teaching and end my educational career.
I became a construction worker. As the poet says (paraphrased):
"Add more wood, add more...
You are the most beautiful hammer in the world...
From your sake, I closed my book,
Left teaching behind,
Scratched out my university degree,
And severed all my veins..."
That creative student also came to work with me as a laborer.
I expected him to be a scientist at NASA, but he thought about becoming a Sheikh, then abandoned the idea because creativity and "Sheikh-ism" don't mix.
While we were working, a child came out of the house and began criticizing: "Why didn't you tie this? Why didn't you do that?"
I asked the child: "What is behind that mountain at the edge of the village?"
Child: "There is a sea."
"A sea, my son? Do you know we are in a mountainous region thousands of kilometers above sea level?"
Child: "I don't know. My mother doesn't let me leave the house walls."
I said: "What is the farthest place you've been, little one?"
"To my uncles' house."
"And where is your uncles' house?"
"At the end of the world," the child replied.
Amazing. And since when did you become an architect, little one?
A voice called out: "Little one, go! Your mother is calling."
The child said: "She is like that; she never lets me go out or talk to others."
The child returned home.
I turned to my formerly creative student, now my fellow laborer: "Did you see that child? He is like our Sheikh. He never left his house walls and thinks the end of the world is his uncles' house. Yet, he came to criticize our work as if he were an architect. And did you see his mother who prevents him from seeing others?"
He said: "I saw."
"The Sheikh's extremism also prevents him from seeing the world, just like that child's mother."
We went back to work.
While I was cutting wood with an electric saw, something flew into my eye.
My creative student-turned-laborer came to me and said: "Put some honey in your eye."
I replied: "This is an eye! If it were my leg or hand, I might. But my eye? Never. I won't make it a field for experiments."
Laborer student: "I once heard the Sheikh say so..."
Damn it! He still has the Sheikh's leftovers in him.
I said: "Even here, the Sheikh speaks? It was enough that I left teaching. I think the best solution is suicide by hanging."
The laborer student: "But I heard the Sheikh once say that the one who commits suicide will go to hell."
"What is the solution then!!?"
And thus, the candles of genius are extinguished.
"This student is a genius, a true talent! I will nurture his potential with everything I have; he is destined for greatness."
"This student is far more brilliant than his peers. I will give him extra, specialized material."
"Amazing! This student comprehends things far beyond his grade level. Thank you, you are a creator!"
"You impress me. Keep going. Brilliant work, my son!"
The results were posted. This student was number one, unrivaled. "Congratulations, my son. You deserve to be first, always."
This student didn’t just have the highest grades in his class, but the highest in the entire school.
"I am so joyful! My efforts have borne fruit. Congratulations on your excellence, dear."
The student replied: "It is all thanks to your support, teacher. You are a partner in my success."
"Yes, your success is mine. I wish you continued excellence in the coming years."
Summer passed. A new academic year began. Once again, at the end of the year, this student topped the list. He was the highest-achiever in the whole school.
"Thank you, my son. You have made me happy again. I am honored to have a student like you."
The student: "It is all because of you, teacher."
The student became my pupil and my friend. He admired his teacher, and I admired his talent and refined character.
The third year arrived.
"Welcome, students. I am happy to see you again. Do you know when our education and our country will develop and become great?"
The students asked: "When?"
"When all of you, and all students in this country, become like this creative student," I said, pointing to my favorite pupil.
The students cheered. Our star student felt a mix of joy and a beautiful, modest shyness.
After a period of continued support...
The student said: "Teacher, they say all the sciences you teach us are incorrect."
"Like what, my son?"
"That the Earth is not spherical!"
"What else?"
"The Earth does not rotate."
"Go on..."
"No one ever went to space."
"Tell me, is there another catastrophe they claim?"
Student: "Yes, they say mathematics is just superstition, a waste of time, and useless."
"And what else!!?"
"They say the Earth is not a tiny planet on the fringes of a galaxy!"
He began to demolish science and shatter the scientific method.
"Who said this?"
Student: "The Sheikh told us."
Damn it! No sooner had I lit a candle of genius than that Sheikh came and blew it out.
"Who is this Sheikh?"
Student: "Sheikh so-and-so."
Him!!! Yes, I remember. I taught him over ten years ago. He was the dullest student in the class. He used to show up with one eye closed, not fully waking up until the third period. When asked how many teachers had entered the class, he’d say "one," because he had just woken up and missed the two teachers before him.
I remember this Sheikh repeated the fourth grade for years. He was the tallest among the children, to the point that he came to me and said: "Promote me to the fifth grade this time, and you can leave me there for ten years."
"And why the fifth grade?"
The Student-Sheikh: "Because I am ashamed of sharpening a lead pencil at my age. In the fifth grade, I can use an ink pen."
"Fine, but on one condition: don't tell anyone. I will adjust your grades and move you to the next stage."
After that, this Sheikh "graduated" with his bachelor's from the fifth grade; he stayed there for four years then dropped out. He spent years loitering.
But this year, he became a "Sheikh."
In less than a year, he became a scholar in geography and astronomy.
In less than a year, he became a physicist, a chemist, and even a doctor with a single prescription for all diseases. Meanwhile, we had a Russian gynecologist in our city who spent fifteen years with us, and probably twenty years in her own country before that—she was old when she arrived. Yet, with all those years of experience, her expertise never exceeded the region of the womb.
He became an economist too! All this in less than a year. I have been a teacher for decades; I haven't let a research paper or a book pass without reading it—I truly can't count how much I've read. Yet, I am still just a middle school teacher, perhaps not even qualified for high school. And this guy became a "Superman of Science" in less than a year!
Should I debate that Sheikh? He only has thirteen pieces of information in his mind. When they run out, he resorts to bickering and violent attacks. Why? Because the language of kicking and goring is the easiest.
Every creature masters this language: the donkey kicks, the cow gores, and the dog bites. But they cannot debate you as a human, and neither can he. When the mind lacks arguments or information, the debater turns to provocation.
He will attack you, hurl accusations, and make noise just to move the match onto a pile of rocks so that no one can tell the skilled player from the incompetent one. If we played on a real field, he couldn't play at all. His legs are like the front tires of a plow—one rises while the other sinks. He is unfit to play, so playing on the rocks is better for him, to end the dialogue quickly... perhaps in the hospital or the grave.
I tried to speak to him cautiously, like pulling a coal from under a pot in the wilderness, keeping the heat away from my face.
I succeeded; he is calm now. When his thirteen "facts" were exhausted—and they are still only thirteen, as he adds nothing new—he said to me: "These are worldly sciences; ours are religious sciences."
Astonishing! He just added his fourteenth piece of information.
I replied: "Then stay with your sciences, and we will grant you a 'Professor' certificate in that field, stamped with a thousand seals. But leave the worldly sciences to their people."
I continued teaching, and every time I lit a candle, that old failure-turned-Sheikh would come to blow it out.
Then, a new disaster.
The teachers themselves began demolishing science, abandoning the curriculum where the world "dances," to dance in the depths of the valleys. Meanwhile, the drums and music are playing in a village a thousand meters above them. Strangely, they don't hear the drums, they have no light, and they dance in the dark. Otherwise, the curriculum is the rhythm the world dances to.
Damn it. I will blow out my own candle too.
I will quit teaching and end my educational career.
I became a construction worker. As the poet says (paraphrased):
"Add more wood, add more...
You are the most beautiful hammer in the world...
From your sake, I closed my book,
Left teaching behind,
Scratched out my university degree,
And severed all my veins..."
That creative student also came to work with me as a laborer.
I expected him to be a scientist at NASA, but he thought about becoming a Sheikh, then abandoned the idea because creativity and "Sheikh-ism" don't mix.
While we were working, a child came out of the house and began criticizing: "Why didn't you tie this? Why didn't you do that?"
I asked the child: "What is behind that mountain at the edge of the village?"
Child: "There is a sea."
"A sea, my son? Do you know we are in a mountainous region thousands of kilometers above sea level?"
Child: "I don't know. My mother doesn't let me leave the house walls."
I said: "What is the farthest place you've been, little one?"
"To my uncles' house."
"And where is your uncles' house?"
"At the end of the world," the child replied.
Amazing. And since when did you become an architect, little one?
A voice called out: "Little one, go! Your mother is calling."
The child said: "She is like that; she never lets me go out or talk to others."
The child returned home.
I turned to my formerly creative student, now my fellow laborer: "Did you see that child? He is like our Sheikh. He never left his house walls and thinks the end of the world is his uncles' house. Yet, he came to criticize our work as if he were an architect. And did you see his mother who prevents him from seeing others?"
He said: "I saw."
"The Sheikh's extremism also prevents him from seeing the world, just like that child's mother."
We went back to work.
While I was cutting wood with an electric saw, something flew into my eye.
My creative student-turned-laborer came to me and said: "Put some honey in your eye."
I replied: "This is an eye! If it were my leg or hand, I might. But my eye? Never. I won't make it a field for experiments."
Laborer student: "I once heard the Sheikh say so..."
Damn it! He still has the Sheikh's leftovers in him.
I said: "Even here, the Sheikh speaks? It was enough that I left teaching. I think the best solution is suicide by hanging."
The laborer student: "But I heard the Sheikh once say that the one who commits suicide will go to hell."
"What is the solution then!!?"
And thus, the candles of genius are extinguished.
