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Personal Stories

Graduation, Baghdad Style

We enter a small, narrow room with only a couple of windows and a makeshift, dilapidated stage at the front. Plastic chairs sit in rows. With no electricity for fans or air conditioning, the room is stifling hot. The late spring temperatures of Baghdad push above 90 degrees by mid-morning.

Proud family members enjoy the graduation day refreshments. (Click to enlarge)

It is a far cry from the pomp and circumstance enjoyed by U. S. baccalaureates. However, the young women of the School of Arts in Baghdad, like teenagers everywhere, visit excitedly with each other as 59 of the school’s 300 students prepare to graduate. They sit in small clusters of friends and clap and cheer enthusiastically as one of their companions receives an award of excellence. Teachers smile with pride and joy at their students’ accomplishments. Younger siblings mill around, waiting for the cake and soda.

More than meets the eye

Nothing is simple in Iraq. What you see on the surface is only the cover for many different realities, like a room that has been wallpapered one too many times—it is the same room, but each layer has a totally different context.

New graduate shows off her artwork with her mother and Shems (seated right), her painting teacher, and Layla Mohammed (standing right), the commencement speaker. (Click to enlarge)

The School of Arts is a specialized secondary school. Applicants must prove their artistic aptitude in a test to gain admission to this five-year program. All of the art disciplines are taught here, including painting, sculpture, ceramics, music, and graphic design. The curriculum also includes Arabic, English, psychology, and teaching courses. Many of the students will go on to careers as art teachers at the primary and secondary level. Some will go to the College of Fine Arts at Baghdad University.

This is what we saw, but there are actually two Schools of Art in Baghdad. For many years, this institution was coed; but in 1996, Saddam separated it into two campuses: one for boys, one for girls. This action epitomizes the conscious eroding of secular society that the regime practiced, beginning in the mid-1980s. The impact on women’s rights and place in society was especially severe, as Saddam sought the support of the more fundamentalist religious elements.

The price of segregation

Kareema, the director of the school, says: “This separation was not good. I was here before and after—it was not useful.

Kareema, the school director (Click to enlarge)

We lost many things, including our social relationships. It hurt the girls, especially in their work and opportunities. [Before,] they were challenged by the skill of the boys. They are not as challenged to improve their skills when there are only girls. Also the girls’ relations and social skills have suffered. When there are only girls around, they use language and mannerisms that they would not use around boys.”

Kareema hopes that, with the regime gone, the schools will once again unite. Even this would not be simple. She feels it will take a year to prepare the girls and their parents for this change.

Learning beyond art

The girls’ school has 50 faculty members—47 women and three men.

Shems (whose name appropriately means sun) is a well-loved painting teacher. Her smile shines on her students as they consult with her about their work. She is progressive in her thinking and her teaching. Shems transmits not only her love of and skill in painting; she also encourages her students to express their opinions and hopes for the future. Shems asked her friend Layla Mohammed, director of the Organization of Women’s Freedom in Iraq (OWFI), to speak with the students about women’s rights. This opened a dialogue and new horizons for the girls.

Shems does not represent the attitude of all of the teachers, some of whom do not want to change. The ways of teaching and people’s mindset have been formed by 30 years of oppression.

Kareema explains: “They are stuck in their old ways, think in the old ways. The words ‘democracy’ and ‘freedom’ have no meaning for them. Also, they are afraid that with any changes they may loose their jobs, and their salaries are good. The regime changed everything in Iraq, especially the minds of peoples—how they think.”

Reluctant leaders fill a void

A sculptor and teacher, Kareema was thrust into the role of school director when the Occupying Powers dismissed the Ba’athist administration. She would rather be teaching and doing her sculpture, but there is no time for that now.

“I am doing my best,” Kareema says. “Sometimes I am so tired, I think I will quit. But I cannot do that—these girls need us. I do not think that I am the best person for this job, but I understand it. I understand what the school has been through and how it needs to change. Everyday, I think that I will leave this job, go back to my sculpture, finish working on my doctorate, and spend more time with my five children. But then someone asks me to stay…so I stay.”

More photos (Click to enlarge)

Kareema slowly gets up from her chair, sighs, and smiles. She leaves her quiet office for the celebration and the myriad demands of students, teachers, and parents. She stops and chats with excited students. She beams with joy as she hands out the awards of excellence. The students clap and sing to the music. The younger children laugh and play as they enjoy the cake and sodas. Even in beleaguered Baghdad, it is indeed graduation day.

— Mary Trotochaud

AFSC, through its partner Organization of Women’s Freedom in Iraq (OWFI) provided refreshments and entertainment for the graduation celebration at the School of Arts for Girls.

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