Khaberni - Just a week ago, I took over the management of this school. Within me, a grand dream to make a difference in the spirits of its students and instill in them a love of knowledge and hope persists. On a seemingly ordinary morning amid student faces, class bell sounds, and classroom clamor, an empty seat silently drew attention.
I asked about its owner and my assistant Fadwa answered that the student "Ahmed" was ill. I requested his guardian's number to call and check on his condition, no more. The father answered the phone with a tired, hesitant voice, and as soon as I asked about his son, he said with a quiet pain: "Come back to me later".
I did not wait long before his voice returned, this time laden with what the heart struggles to bear:
"Ahmed has cancer at difficult stages... he lives on morphine doses, and if he remains alive, Ms, I will send him to continue his education".
I paused for a moment as tears clung to my eyelids, searching for refuge but finding none. I stuttered with a small apology for an unintended disturbance, and prayed for God to ease the father’s and mother's heartache, as their welfare is no less important than the pain of their son's body. And now, with hope that God grants Ahmed recovery. I heard in the father's voice a great patience that rises above the wounds, a patience that resembles only the prophets'.
I hung up the phone and returned to the reality of my school and the sound of the classes, to ask his teacher to resume her work, while I withdrew to a corner to confide in my heart for a few seconds. There, between myself and I, I felt a deep lump moving between my chest and throat, a tear dangling at the edge of my eye, and a fervent prayer emerging from my depths: "O Allah, heal Ahmed, and grant his father’s and mother’s hearts the coolness of tranquility amidst the flames of calamity."
This situation taught me that education is not just books and pens, nor periods and schedules, but humanity above all. It sees in the absence of a student a story, in his illness a lesson, and in his father’s patience a saga of faith that shakes hearts.
That empty seat in the third row is no longer just wood and iron, but has become a symbol of a child battling pain, a father facing calamity steadily, and an entire school raising its hands in prayer for Ahmed.
And still, to this moment, I murmur:
"O Allah, heal Ahmed, and soothe his father’s and mother's hearts with Your mercy, and teach us how to honor the mission of education with love and compassion before being a teacher because you are a father
Before being a teacher because you are a mother
And any child in this nation is our child collectively.
O Allah, instill in their hearts the love of knowledge and work,
The love of sacrifice and giving,
And make them builders of society, truthful tongues, and pure hearts.
O Allah, bless their steps, inspire them with guidance and correctness,
Make them loyal in serving their homelands,
Dedicated leaders in the fields of work,
Firm in the path of truth,
And followers on the path of goodness.
O Allah, keep this nation thriving with its leadership and its sons,
Protected by its men and women,
And grant us in it security and faith,
Safety and benevolence,
And make us all keys to goodness, locks to evil.
