Siddique 1

Muhammad Atir Siddique

Ms. Eaker
URWT 1103-024
October 1, 2014
Liberty or Death
Imagine yourself sitting in a room full of strangers. They speak a differently, dress differently,
and talk about things you have never heard in your life. The overwhelming feeling of being lost
among this crowd takes over you but you keep writing whatever is written on the board. After 90
minutes of such routine four times a day and five days a week you are exhausted. You arrive
home in a vehicle full of people laughing, singing and occupied in chatter of their daily lives.
They ignore the short, black haired boy sitting in the front of the bus alone who would one night
bawl his eyes out crying to his mother to go back. It will get better his mother assures him but
she is as clueless as he if not more. He sits among you today. Sometimes that feeling of being
lost is able to make its way back. The insufficient literacy nourishment of English reading and
writing is evident in his works. I will introduce you to this boys childhood and his journey from
the broken educational system of Pakistan to sitting among you. It might not be very different
from yours in terms of romantic crushes, biking around the block, playing soccer with friends.
However, it will show you how cultures repress or express their desires and liberty is part of
literacy. If you still havent figured out that short black haired boy is me. This narrative is a
window for you to see why I am who I am today.

Siddique 2

Stand up
Go to the corner
Hold your hand out
Why is your shirt dirty?
Why didnt you do your homework?
I am a rebel. I never had a clean uniform after lunch because I would be involved in the
worst games ever. For example I remember playing with dirt rocks in second grade in the big
playground that looked over was across the girls campus. In third grade, I enjoyed wrestling
with other kids to look tough but always got rulers after class for have grass marks on my shirt.
Yes, we used to be physically punished for having dirty uniforms. Fourth grade dirt rocks came
back but this time as sophisticated and organized gang battles. Dont panic, it was just two
groups of friends who hated each other. Think mean girls, I was the guy version of Lindsay
Lohan in my elementary school just not as hot and smart. It is complicated. I still do not know
why we hated them.
I am sure some of you might share similar experiences. Maybe you have never been hit by a
dirt rock in your back as you ran across a soccer field. However, when it comes to academics you
have probably challenged the expectations. All of us have been told to do things that we do not
want to do. Sometimes we fought back, throwing a fit, rolling around floor or had a heated
argument. Yet, mostly we quietly do what is asked of us to do even if we do not enjoy it. That is
how I was in my early years of school. I loved going to school but there was nothing interesting.
It was almost a NASCAR race CocaCola 700 presented to you by Divisional public school. I

Siddique 3

barely made it to next grade every year until the end of third grade. The only motivation to do
better before that was my name will not be at the bottom of result sheet that was sent home. Now
a second grader whose friends are all at the bottom of the list can care less about being on the top
of this publically humiliating list. I suppose being smart would have been impressive if there
were any girls around but it was an all boys school. To me it did not matter who was in the first
position because they were all snobby rich pricks. Most of them had tutors come help them with
their homework. Some went to summer school for writing and reading. Yet here I was sitting at
home doing nothing all summer long. I did not think about it then but we were expected to be
exceptional students without being provided with the right tools.
Reading is critically important for becoming a better writer. Famous author Stephen King said
If you don't have time to read, you don't have the time (or the tools) to write. Simple as
that. (King). My elementary school in Pakistan was nothing like the elementary schools in the
United States. The plaid colored walls didnt have any pictures of happy animals dancing around
nor did we have inspirations quotes hanging above the writing board. Sitting in these huge
classrooms usually not even ventilated, we would do different activities throughout the day with
our teachers. I am not saying these activities were bad but they were not fun compared to what
I see in elementary schools in this country. Children a given the option to read whatever they
desire. There are library shelves stacked with hundreds of books. Sections by the grade level, the
children are encouraged to read ahead of their grade level. They are rewarded for their reading
and progress. There were no such opportunities for me in Pakistan. The extent of this lack of
opportunity was that there was a single library in a school with about 4000 students ranging from
elementary to 12K. However, only students in 6th grade and higher were allowed to go to the
library without a teacher. When the elementary students did get to go to the library it was more

Siddique 4

like a field trip. It was probably 3rd grade, I remember going into that humongous hall with white
walls and only four shelves of books. I took a book from the shelf and stood in a line of about 30
kids waiting to check out a single book because we were told to do so. I dont even remember the
title of that book. I never read it. Without motivation and positive reinforcement children lose
interest and I am a victim of that poor education system.
In the world where a childs interest was ignored to get them educated there was a tiny ray
of hope. I found the headlines, stories, hilarious matrimony ads and ghost stories in the news
paper way more interesting than visit to a zoo from my English textbook. Every afternoon,
carrying the brick heavy backpack under the burning sun, as I walked from the bus stop to home
I looked forward to grandpas newspaper. Thursdays and Sundays were my favorite. On Sunday
the paper included a childrens section. It always had some moral story and comic strips with the
most recent events highlighted in a neutral way. It also had a Sunday magazine that had the next
episode of my favorite novel about an upper class boy falling in love with a girl from a very
religious family. It was the greatest story of all times. On Thursday, it included a section of some
of the new inventions or scientific discoveries in the past week. Thursday news paper also had a
section on ghost tales. They were claimed to be true, which I highly doubt today, but at the time I
really believed them. In Pakistan, almost everybody has an area similar to back porch in
America. It is almost like a room with three walls that opens into the backyard. I remember
sitting with my grandpa in our porch during the hot summer months as he read the political
articles and I read my favorite sections. I actually enjoyed reading the news more than anything
else even though sometimes it had the same things as my textbook. Okay, maybe not the ghost
stories or matrimony ads. The freedom to choose made it more interesting than being told what
to do.

Siddique 5

In fourth grade we moved to a new house. It was a huge single story house in a gated
community with a garden in the backyard and front yard. It was the government residence for the
principle as my mother had just been promoted to be the principle of a local commerce college.
Being in the most affluent part of the city also had the benefit that now I was close to the one and
only public library in the city. By no means was our city a small town. It was fourth major city in
the province of Punjab. The library was less than a mile away from my house. It was this white
building supported by huge pillars similar to ones in Greek temples. The doors were large and
bulky with golden handles with a sign naming it Government Jinnah Public Library Sahiwal.
As you walked in you were mesmerized by a collection of pictures and some comfy chairs. On
one side of this room was the news paper section that had a collection that dated back to 1970s.
Every news paper until that day is available. On the other side there is a small entrance to main
part of library that held over 45000 books. It is the third biggest library in the province of Punjab.
Entering from this door straight ahead is the head librarians office and on your left would be the
checkout desk. There was no one ever in that library as far as I can remember. I used to go
straight to the childrens and womens section. Yes, according to Islamic laws there was a
segregated area for women to read. They were allowed to sit anywhere but if they wanted to
avoid interaction with men that was the place. Mostly it was all childrens books from fictional
stories of heroes to books on astronomy and physics. I was the first time in my life that I had
such free access to anything I wanted. There was no one to tell me that I cant read that because
its for adults. There was no one to tell me I am allowed to in here without an adult. Instead the
librarians loved me and my brother. We were the only children who would be at the library
everyday during summer. I used to carry a diary that I would note any interesting facts or quotes
from my readings. I was content in the environment of that place until a dramatic shift in my life.

Siddique 6

For some reason my parents wanted all their children to memorize Quran. As the oldest
child, I was the first test subject for this wish too and just like always I obeyed. In order to
memorize Quran, I was taken out of regular school and put in a madrassa or Islamic school.
Every day from the sunrise till the darkness with two breaks in between we memorized the holy
book. For four years only thing I read and tried to memorize was not even in a language I
understood. I wasnt able to go to the library because the only day we had off was Friday and
the library would close only 8 am to 12 pm on Fridays. We had a few books at the madrassa but
they were all religious texts. One of the books that we had to listen to everyday was a book of
stories that was simply bashing the other dominations in Islam. Then there were books trying to
explain the purpose of human life, definition of self, and heart. I didnt write a single paper or
note in those four years. I even stopped writing my journal because I was always too tired. It
impacted my life significantly and I knew there was more to come.
On December 7, 2010, I came to the United States as an immigrant. Having attended an
English medium elementary school in Pakistan helped me being a little fluent in English. I was
able to communicate even though I did not talk a lot because I was afraid I was going to say the
wrong thing. Once I started school after four years of complete isolation from academic world, I
realized how far behind I was in everything. To make things even more interesting, I was in a
new country with a system and culture completely new to me. Hence I was placed in English
Second Language or ESL class to learn better English. I loved going to school this time around
and actually enjoyed learning. It was not just sit in a classroom and listen to a lecture. It was not
if you did not do your homework, be ready for red hands. This was new to me. My teacher, Ms
Ashley, a tall blonde recent college graduate, was amazing at her job. She did not let me make
my recent immigration an excuse in doing badly in the class. She constantly pushed me and other

Siddique 7

students to do better every day. At the beginning of each class we were given a warm up
paragraph to make grammar corrections. By the end of semester I was able to pick 9 out of 10
mistakes compared to my blank sheet of paper for the first few weeks. Anyone with 7 or more
corrections received a ticket toward a raffle at the end of semester. It was entertaining and
challenging. It was a regular class. We were going through the same curriculum as a Standard
English class. Hence, the tests were all multiple choice. This was where my lack of reading
comprehension showed its true colors. I wasnt able to understand the text and extract the
important details. Most of the times I had to look up words in a dictionary to understand the
passage and obviously I was not allowed a dictionary on test. I consistently received poor grades
on the tests in English even though I was getting As in all my other classes. I hate multiple
choice tests. We hate English multiple choice tests. Then I moved schools, another shift in my
life.
This time instead of gorgeous college graduate, I had the most loving and caring lady as a
teacher who could not teach. Ms. Ross was from Boston and thats all we heard her talk about in
class. She was on her phone consistently all class every day of the week. The momentum that
Ms. Ashely had started was broken and I was stuck for an entire year because they wont let me
switch to a Standard English class. We did nothing other than warm up on how our day went and
tests on stories that she gave us the answers to beforehand. There were no fun activities, no
incentives, no challenges to push toward a goal. If you treat a child like he not intelligent he will
act as though he is not intelligent. I loved the fact that I never had to worry about that class but I
also hated it. I wanted to learn. I was eager to be recognized this time around.
Before junior year, I talked to my counselor on regular basis to get me out of ESL. She
promised me I will be out. Instead of going to a standard class, I decided to take honors English.

Siddique 8

It was a risk I was willing to take if it meant learning better. I was not disappointed. I learned a
lot more in one semester than I learned in past two years. Since junior year English was geared
toward analytical writing skills, I had the option to make up the multiple choice tests in writing. I
obviously chose to write. Remember we hate English multiple choice tests. Being able to express
myself in my own words was a lot easier than choosing words of other people. Consequently my
grades were significantly better in this class than any other class. We learned how to write and
arrange information. She recommended readings and gave us extra credit for using those
readings in our papers or warm up questions. I enjoyed class a bit more everyday because of my
ability to choose.
America is the land of free. We have the freedom to choose whatever we want to do.
Education should not be excluded from these freedoms. I believe being able to act upon their
own will makes a person enjoy the act more than when they are forced to do the same task. Me
being forced to read about science and religion in elementary school and madrassa made me hate
it. However, when I had access to the same material in the library I enjoyed reading about
science and religion. I even enjoyed reading ghost stories. When I was forced to only do multiple
choice tests I hated multiple choice tests. I despised reading those passages. Yet given the same
passages with open ended questions, I not only understood better but did better. The philosophy
of agency describes this notion of choice as an individuals capacity to do something. I have the
capacity to complete tasks but only if I have the freedom to choose whether I want to complete
this task or not. I would conclude this narrative with the title of all time famous speech of Patrick
Henry give me liberty or give me death and I demand this liberty for everything.

Siddique 9