Ka Leo O Hawaii

Issue date: 11/28/07 Section: Mixed Plate

Frazier

Isn't it dangerous for Americans to teach in the Middle East? Don't you have to know Arabic? Will Arab students accept you as a professor?

Those were some of the questions my wife and I were confronted with before deciding to retire from the University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa, and accept a three-year contract to teach at Zayed University in Dubai United Arab Emirates.

I had been teaching at UH since 1984 and had twice served as chairman of the journalism department. The salary and benefits at ZU were too good to pass up with retirement approaching.

The decision was not taken lightly. After all, my wife and I had been trapped momentarily among flying water bottles and other debris in a small tourist van by hundreds of demonstrating students in Xian following the bombing of the Chinese embassy in Belgrade. We had gone to China in 1999 while I was a Fulbright Scholar teaching at the China School of Journalism in Beijing.

In spite of this frightening incident, we loved teaching abroad and our China experience and decided we wanted another adventure before fully retiring, considering we were in our late 60s.

Upon arriving on campus, it was a bit intimidating to find the female Arab students dressed in berkas (black robes), headscarves, and some face covers and long gloves. They glided about the campus like so many butterflies.

Teaching was a struggle at first. Classrooms were filled with students chatting in Arabic, paying little or no attention to the professor. Any suggestions about having an examination were met with howling protests. Reading assignments were essentially ignored. Approximately 90 percent of English writing assignments were unreadable. Each student was equipped with a laptop computer and one or two mobile phones, contrary to campus rules.

As months went by, we began to establish mutual respect. I tried everything including showing family photographs, videos tapes about Hawai‘i, and little stories about life in America. The student's favorite such story was about my wife, 17 at the time, and I eloping to get married. Reacting in astonishment, they remarked that they would imitate the cutting of throats.

Students were dedicated Muslims. There was a student prayer room in all prominent buildings. On one occasion while supervising student internships, I asked a student if she intended to work in a bank after graduation.

"Yes," she replied. "I prayed and prayed about what career to pursue; and I felt led to go into banking."

One day in class following an exam, a student stood up and said, "If you'll give me a better grade, I'll pray for you." This was followed by unanimous laughter. Considering their somber dress, the students had a great sense of humor.

My fourth year was a professor's dream. My efforts to gain respect paid off. Students lowered their headscarves and began expressing their thanks for my coming to ZU. Most became serious about learning and worked extremely hard. Their weakness was still writing in English, but they more than made up for it by being exceptional in creativity and giving professional presentations.

Meanwhile, we grew to love Dubai and the people. The city is truly one of the best-kept secrets in the world. A recent "60-minutes" segment on Dubai only began to tell the wonders of the place. We hated to leave and think of it often. Our furnished apartment was posh and we were treated well by everyone.

To answer the initial questions about teaching in Dubai, we were not afraid for our safety, knowledge of Arabic isn't necessary, and yes, the students accept and favor American professors.

Before leaving ZU, students voted me their best and favorite professor in the College of Communication and Media Sciences. I was thrilled to see in the "60-Minutes" segment, my best student, Maryam Obaid, seated in front of Sheikh Maktoum, ruler of Dubai, as he spoke about preparing women to become leaders in the country.

Page 1 of 1

Article Tools