Nobility obligates its possessors, and the obligation should be passed down from generation to generation. The initiative promises new beginnings against injustice, oppression and the long-time fight against humanity’s search for freedom. Many stories come with grief and pain, while others inspire us to take a leap of faith. Stories are told through history, but more importantly when stories reach other hearts, conveying the right message, true connections start occurring on a higher level of consciousness. True connections and the energy and force holding everything together, grow stronger. Then energy becomes matter, and matter begins taking an effect rising into power. Power then becomes the force in which we can change, restructure or cultivate new ideas and values into systems of different societies. However complex this may seem, it has a long history that has proven such. From civil rights movements to revolutions which have overthrown many governments throughout time. It’s important for the younger nations of today, not to give up, and most importantly thrive to influence their social/cultural surroundings. You see, part of my childhood was taken away from me, and now the time has come for me to share a short tale with the rest of the world. This is no conspiracy, but it is a true short tale about war, love, sacrifice, family, politics and education. The story began when an aspiring young man was sent by his influential and well-respected family to study abroad in America, because of the education opportunities offered there, hence his genius led him to acquire his PHD in Mathematics from Loma Linda University, CA. During his student days,he met a Catholic Mexican-American woman from a farm-working family. The two got married without the permission and approval of the man's parents and soon they would give birth to a boy and a girl-me.
Till this day, I clearly remember my first impression of Iran as a five year old child who didn’t speak Farsi, and who followed her parents as any five year old would. These early-on impressions are so important and profound for a young child, it is no wonder that my career has led me to teaching children. I remember my first day of school in Iran, Tehran. The images still vivid and dull at the same time. The school’s name was “School of Justice." As I approached the entrance of the school, my eyes caught a glimpse of a picture painted in front of my feet. I remember feeling a sudden ache in my heart. There right in the entrance was the American flag, stripes and stars painted at the front of the doorway. I stood hesitantly in front of it’s entrance watching other little kids walk and trample over what I had identified with, as being a part of. You see the painted flag was so enormous that there was no way to pass by it without stepping on it, other than jumping over. "It’s OK just go in Sammie", Mom said to me with a weak voice as she slowly approached me from behind she whispered in my ear "It's what is in your heart that is important." And at that time, I did what my mother had told me to do. I listened to my heart, leaping high above and over the American flag and a picture that symbolized part of my heritage, and what I had identified with as a young child. From that day forward, a small crowd would gather every morning in front of the school's entrance. The word had gotten around and many students awaited with curiosity, for the arrival of the ‘American girl’ who bravely jumped over the flag every single day. For one whole school year I jumped 6 days a week over the flag while strange and friendly eyes gazed at me. In Iran, everything seemed to be about darkness, suffering and mourning. To celebrate and be happy was forbidden, as was listening to any kind of music, dancing or any other creative activity that would bring joy into the lives of the young. If we were caught in school with something other than the school books, we were severely punished and expelled from school. Schools were segregated, and every aspect of our daily lives seemed to be under observation. They, who ran the show were namely a group of under-educated religious teachers-fundamentalist veterans, who had simply fallen under dictatorship of the Islamic government and revolutionary guards who imposed their values of ignorance through authority, oppression, and fear. There was never a sense of security for anyone who was growing up in Tehran after the overthrowing of the shah (Mohammad Reza Pahlavi). Soon...the news of the Iran/Iraq war hit the streets and our home became sanctuary to prayer, as every night we would hold each other tightly, never knowing what the course of nature and our destiny would be. Hearing explosions from a close distance while praying to God every night to keep our family safe and alive, sirens and echoes of screaming neighbors who had been bombed only two houses away from us are all memories I carry with me until this day. For any human with a heart, to live through war, witnessing it’s fellow people in agony can be a painful and life-changing experience. Yes, at that time I was just a kid, but long after the war had ended I felt angry, suppressed and depressed. My worse childhood memories are from that era, and they most certainly continue to influence and motivate me to make the world a better place. These memories and experiences have profoundly influenced my character, thoughts, and perception of this world, and they will do so for many others who are experiencing the tragedies of war in Iraq, Afghanistan and Iran. School and living in America, had it's own setbacks and flaws. The people here seemed too busy and preoccupied, stressed and disconnected from the nature of reality. It was during my junior year of high-school in America, where I quickly learned that if I didn’t stand up for myself and my inherited heritage, I would become victim to hate-crimes. After all, I had already been labeled as “ The Terrorist Girl” from I-ran. When I was in Iran I was known as the American girl, and when I was here in the U.S, I was known as the Iranian girl. Which was I? So many times I just felt like crying out aloud "I am human, like others, I am from planet earth". You see, my mother was a strong-willed, brave, and curious being, who had learned to live by her heart, so much that she failed to recognize the immensity of the cultural differences, giving her heart away instantly to a man from a far away country, Iran. Was it my fault that I was born into a multi-cultural union of the hearts? Isn't it time for us to initiate a global education system that is based on universal laws of life and ethical teachings? Young people of today, become our leaders tomorrow. Isn't it time that we educate all of our society's leaders to act upon their hearts?
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