I guess the chunk of work that I'm the most proud of (my favorite) would be from the independent reading project. I read Reading Lolita in Tehran, and it really touched me. When we had to do the author immitation, I didn't even have a clue as to how I would be able to emulate the style of such an amazing writer, but I knew what I wanted to write about. At the time, we were reading The Stranger so I thought it would be interesting to write about the characters reading The Stranger in Tehran. I did my best, so here it is:
After completing Gatsby’s trial, I thought I would give my students another novel that would challenge their beliefs, their philosophies on life, and their sheer will to understand a new perspective. I chose Albert Camus’ The Stranger for a few reasons. Camus was considered an existentialist writer by some, but is classified as an absurdist. Existentialists believe that each person has the power to create his own purpose in life, a concept completely foreign to my piously religious students. I wanted them to open their minds, but I was treading on thin ice; the infidelity in Gatsby was one thing, but a complete disregard for the existence of gods? Gatsby was put on trial, but as I waited for my class to enter that chilly January morning, I foresaw The Stranger receiving a slightly more lethal punishment.
I told them that this novel was written in France in 1942 by a man named Albert Camus. I went on to explain a little about Camus’ background, with the hope that they would relate to him. When he was young, I told them, he did not lead a very happy life. His father died in the First World War, and he lived in poverty until he went to University. He took part in the political turmoil in his native Algeria as well as in France. However, after being kicked out of the French Communist Party, he became a pacifist during the Second World War, and he worked around the world for human rights. His novel, The Stranger, will be your assignment for the next week, I said. It is short, I responded as they looked incredulously at the small book I placed in front of them, but there is much for you to comprehend.
I did not receive any comments throughout the week, so when the following Monday rolled around, I was unsure what to expect from my students. As the last few stragglers trickled in, I was about to ask them if they had any questions, comments, or observations, when Mr. Bahri shot his hand up. I looked around the room, hoping another student would want to comment, but the room remained silent and I had no choice but to call on him. Yes Mr. Bahri, I said, what would you like to say?
Professor, he began calmly, I would like to know what your intentions are in reading this novel. He paused briefly, and I asked him to clarify his question. Please, Professor, can you tell me what purpose this book serves? I could not find one single message within its pages. Meursault is a cruel man, and he received a punishment fitting of his crime. What else could there possibly be? He defies religion, takes an Arabian man’s life. Do you condemn men killing other men who come from very similar heritage to us?
Well Mr. Bahri, I started just as calmly, this seems to be my point. As I told you all a week ago, Camus was an existentialist. Meursault had no purpose, no point in existing, until the instance where he was faced with his impending death. He is completely unemotional during his mother’s funeral and he has no sympathy toward Raymond’s girlfriend or the Arabian man that he shoots. Does anyone have any suggestions as to the moment when this all changes?
A shy hand from the back of the room slowly made its way into the air. The moment he confronts the priest in his jail cell? she asked in a small voice. Exactly! I said. The split second he is faced with his own mortality, he lashes out. But why would he push away religion? interjected Mr. Bahri. Religion is truth, it is what humans live by. I looked around the room. Does anyone want to answer Mr. Bahri’s question?
Because religion is not always the truth, it is an interpretation of how we should live, said the same small voice from the back of the classroom. Meursault lets life pass him by, feeling completely indifferent to emotion. So when emotion finally comes upon him, he does not know how to respond. Camus wants us to find our own purpose in life, not just let religion dictate it to us. Mr. Bahri’s mouth dropped. The class was silent. A loud bell sounded, marking the end of the class. I was astonished by what I had just heard. The words were caught in my throat. We will finish this discussion next time, everyone be prepared, I stuttered as the room emptied quickly.
I knew I had to have her in my Thursday class. A day or two passed, and she was not at the next meeting of the class. I asked if anyone knew where she was. No one did. This continued for two weeks, but I knew in my heart what must have happened. Mr. Bahri was not in class for a few days either, and because of the pull he had with the many student organizations on campus, something terrible must have happened to her. It was not until a year later that I found out that she had been jailed, tortured, and killed for daring to speak out against religion. They called her a “source of corruption and rebellion.” From that day on, no matter what happened, I had to continue working with my girls, giving everything I had to education, in memory of her.
After completing Gatsby’s trial, I thought I would give my students another novel that would challenge their beliefs, their philosophies on life, and their sheer will to understand a new perspective. I chose Albert Camus’ The Stranger for a few reasons. Camus was considered an existentialist writer by some, but is classified as an absurdist. Existentialists believe that each person has the power to create his own purpose in life, a concept completely foreign to my piously religious students. I wanted them to open their minds, but I was treading on thin ice; the infidelity in Gatsby was one thing, but a complete disregard for the existence of gods? Gatsby was put on trial, but as I waited for my class to enter that chilly January morning, I foresaw The Stranger receiving a slightly more lethal punishment.
I told them that this novel was written in France in 1942 by a man named Albert Camus. I went on to explain a little about Camus’ background, with the hope that they would relate to him. When he was young, I told them, he did not lead a very happy life. His father died in the First World War, and he lived in poverty until he went to University. He took part in the political turmoil in his native Algeria as well as in France. However, after being kicked out of the French Communist Party, he became a pacifist during the Second World War, and he worked around the world for human rights. His novel, The Stranger, will be your assignment for the next week, I said. It is short, I responded as they looked incredulously at the small book I placed in front of them, but there is much for you to comprehend.
I did not receive any comments throughout the week, so when the following Monday rolled around, I was unsure what to expect from my students. As the last few stragglers trickled in, I was about to ask them if they had any questions, comments, or observations, when Mr. Bahri shot his hand up. I looked around the room, hoping another student would want to comment, but the room remained silent and I had no choice but to call on him. Yes Mr. Bahri, I said, what would you like to say?
Professor, he began calmly, I would like to know what your intentions are in reading this novel. He paused briefly, and I asked him to clarify his question. Please, Professor, can you tell me what purpose this book serves? I could not find one single message within its pages. Meursault is a cruel man, and he received a punishment fitting of his crime. What else could there possibly be? He defies religion, takes an Arabian man’s life. Do you condemn men killing other men who come from very similar heritage to us?
Well Mr. Bahri, I started just as calmly, this seems to be my point. As I told you all a week ago, Camus was an existentialist. Meursault had no purpose, no point in existing, until the instance where he was faced with his impending death. He is completely unemotional during his mother’s funeral and he has no sympathy toward Raymond’s girlfriend or the Arabian man that he shoots. Does anyone have any suggestions as to the moment when this all changes?
A shy hand from the back of the room slowly made its way into the air. The moment he confronts the priest in his jail cell? she asked in a small voice. Exactly! I said. The split second he is faced with his own mortality, he lashes out. But why would he push away religion? interjected Mr. Bahri. Religion is truth, it is what humans live by. I looked around the room. Does anyone want to answer Mr. Bahri’s question?
Because religion is not always the truth, it is an interpretation of how we should live, said the same small voice from the back of the classroom. Meursault lets life pass him by, feeling completely indifferent to emotion. So when emotion finally comes upon him, he does not know how to respond. Camus wants us to find our own purpose in life, not just let religion dictate it to us. Mr. Bahri’s mouth dropped. The class was silent. A loud bell sounded, marking the end of the class. I was astonished by what I had just heard. The words were caught in my throat. We will finish this discussion next time, everyone be prepared, I stuttered as the room emptied quickly.
I knew I had to have her in my Thursday class. A day or two passed, and she was not at the next meeting of the class. I asked if anyone knew where she was. No one did. This continued for two weeks, but I knew in my heart what must have happened. Mr. Bahri was not in class for a few days either, and because of the pull he had with the many student organizations on campus, something terrible must have happened to her. It was not until a year later that I found out that she had been jailed, tortured, and killed for daring to speak out against religion. They called her a “source of corruption and rebellion.” From that day on, no matter what happened, I had to continue working with my girls, giving everything I had to education, in memory of her.
1 comment:
I chose to include this piece in my portfolio because it was my favorite piece of writing from the entire year. I enjoyed being able to write creatively after doing so many explications and analytical pieces, and I enjoyed being able to take a book we had already covered (The Stranger) and write as if the characters from Reading Lolita in Tehran had read it in their class. It really helped me see how a writer's individual style works, as our goal was to copy their style.
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