In this year’s sixth-grade tolerance education class here in rural red-state Nebraska, I took a bold new step: I invited a Muslim-American in to speak. His goal was not to give dawah but to educate. And educate he did, both students and adults.
Chaka Muhammed Benson is a stately figure. A substantial 65-year-old jet-black male wearing leather sandals, a grey thobe, white shawl and a white kufi, he used a commanding walking stick to ply his way slowly and purposely through the crowded middle and high school cafeteria.
Heads turned. Faces stared. Many called out greetings based in unguarded curiosity. Whenever we stopped and I introduced him to a teacher, staff member or student, Midwestern manners were on full display.
Smiles. Welcomes. Thanks for coming. But who was he, and why was he in our school?
As soon as we sat down to eat, a crowd of the youngest students silently and spontaneously gathered round us. They knew me, and they wanted me to introduce and explain him, this novelty suddenly in their midst.
The lunch cashier was equally unabashed. She drifted over to our table frequently to chat and offer assistance: did we need drinks, utensils, ice cream? Where was he from, she asked. Omaha. What was the dress he was wearing, and why? The conservative clothing was dictated by his Muslim faith as a sign of modesty.
This sparked an earnest surge of solidarity as she went into great and over-enthusiastic detail about how much she disapproved of young women's clothing today; the low-cut bosom-baring tops, the ultra-tight, leave-nothing-to-the-imagination jeans and the way-too-short skirts slit up to their crotches. “It’s not attractive, and it makes me so uncomfortable!” she declared. Mr. Benson, visibly embarrassed, agreed.
I introduced him to the classroom. “Today’s speaker is a lifelong resident of Omaha, a US citizen who served 26+ years as a sergeant in the US Army, a veteran of both the Viet Nam and Gulf wars, a recipient of the Bronze Star, and a Muslim-American speaker representing the Islamic Speaker's Bureau,” I said. “He is here to talk to you about what Islam is, and what it is not. Please give him your full attention.”
I need not have worried. The students were sitting bolt upright in their chairs.
Mr. Benson’s first technique was the “I can’t hear you!” drill sergeant routine. On the third try several students spontaneously added “Sir!” to the end of their responses. I worried that he would scare the daylights out of them.
But they easily warmed to him. He was so different, so fascinating. And they weren’t alone. More than once the door opened and a miscellaneous staff member with a few moments to spare took a seat alongside the students to find out what was going on.
Mr. Benson stated right up front that he was not there to convert the children or teach a religion class; he was there to inform them about the Islamic way of life and to take their questions. In fact he demanded their questions: “Ask questions!” he shouted. “That’s your job. You’re here to learn. How are you going to learn if you don’t ask questions?!!”
One of those questions was quite blunt. "Why does everyone think all Muslims are terrorists?" Mr. Benson replied that extremists will use any excuse to justify their actions, and that Islam DOES NOT condone or in any way encourage murder. He added that extremists of all religions have used their faith to justify horrible, immoral acts throughout mankind's history. “Think about that,” he ordered.
The class learned about the Islamic way of life, the number of Americans and people worldwide who practice the faith, and basic Islamic beliefs, many of which are echoed in Christian doctrine. Mr. Benson exhorted the children to respect their teachers and their parents, read a lot, appreciate the opportunities they are given in school and treat others the way they would want to be treated.
At the end, several boys went up and shook his hand to thank him for his service in the US military. They were clearly awed.
When I looked over the stack of student evaluations after the visit, I found no negative comments; only very positive, neutral and sometimes inscrutable ones.
Under the heading “What important things did you learn about Islam?” one of the students had dutifully recorded “Eid al-Fitr, the Islamic Day of Fast-Breaking.” I had to smile. Do white Christian farm kids in the American Midwest even know what it is to go without food? Or do they envision athletes in Muslim attire on the basketball court?
Another learned “that Muhammed was a profit (sic)” and “to not listen to what they say on TV!” Several wrote, “That not all Muslims are terrorists, and not all terrorists are Muslim.”
To the question, “Was there anything new that you learned from the presentation that you didn’t know before?” one wrote, “That they believe in lots of things that Americans do”, while another observed, “They are a lot like cathlics (sic).”
The prompt, “What was the best thing you liked about the presentation?” drew the largest number of telling responses: “That the speaker was able to come”, “Everything – it was a good learning experience!”, “Getting to meet a islam”, “The part with 2 million people praying. That’s a lot”, “He was very nice and funny and I enjoyed every minute of his presentation”, “Having a real Muslim tell us”, “He was very open about his religion”, “Him speaking a different language”, “Him being so serious”, “We learned about a new religion”, and, amazingly, “His strickedness!! (sic)”
The questionnaire also wanted to know if the students had any Muslim friends or knew any Muslims. The predominant answer was an unsurprising ‘No’, but one student wrote, “I don’t have any, but I would like a Muslim friend!”
Only one student circled ‘Yes’, adding the note, “Now I do.”
The final question on the survey was, “Now that you know more about Islam, tell us at least one way you will treat your Muslim friends or acquaintances differently.” The responses were:
I will give more respect.
I will treat them with respect.
I will treat them very nice because they are very nice.
I will smile when I see them and say hello.
I will not think that Muslims are different because they aren’t very different.
I will notice how terrorism is NOT Islamic religion.
Don’t judge the person by what they look like.
I will be nicer.
I will treat their religion with respect.
Not stary-o-type (sic)
I will treat them the way I wish to be treated.
Their candid comments surpassed my expectations, convincing me that the students overall were very happy to be exposed to what must be for them a very mysterious subject. The simple survey remark, "It was interesting" told the whole story. How often do sixth graders leave any classroom saying that?
I was pleasantly surprised to see how receptive the children were to some one whose way of life is so different from their own. But at least one parental reaction received by the principal the next day was sadly predictable. What was this parent worried about? That the speaker taught them to say a few words of Arabic?
The words were: “Assalamu alaikum” and “Alaikum assalam”, meaning “Peace be upon you” and the response, “And upon you, peace.”
As usual, it's really the grownups who harbor and nurture prejudice, not the children. For racism is not born in humans, it is learned. Just like the song from the 1949 Rodgers and Hammerstein musical "South Pacific" called "You've Got to be Carefully Taught" says:
“You've got to be taught
To hate and fear,
You've got to be taught
From year to year,
It's got to be drummed
In your dear little ear
You've got to be carefully taught.
You've got to be taught to be afraid
Of people whose eyes are oddly made,
And people whose skin is a diff'rent shade,
You've got to be carefully taught.
You've got to be taught before it's too late,
Before you are six or seven or eight,
To hate all the people your relatives hate,
You've got to be carefully taught!”
As long as violence and discrimination based on religious differences exist, we will need to invite people like Mr. Benson into our classrooms. Unfortunately, this may be a long time to come.
Some parents may object, but the students won’t. They don’t mind being carefully taught.