My Level in Middle School
During middle school, I was not an exceptional student, but my overall performance was satisfactory throughout the three years. I never failed in any subject, although I often passed some classes with great difficulty. I had a natural inclination towards social studies, where I excelled, followed by the sciences.
My results in mathematics were generally acceptable, even though I later struggled in practical reality, often failing to grasp the concept of counting beyond a million. I might squander money, but I never regret it. I excelled at failing to accumulate wealth or save for a rainy day.
Perhaps I consider myself generous, and more often than not, I find myself not miserly. In some instances, I misjudge and see the little as too much. I still remember when I was a judge, evaluating the fees for the accountant Ahmed Saeed Al-Dahi. He reprimanded me with a phrase or a question in the courtroom, justly asking, 'Do you want me to work for free?' At that moment, I realized the folly I had fallen into while assessing those fees, perhaps stemming from my inexperience in valuing such work or my tendency to equate money's worth with my salary.
National education or the history of the Yemeni revolution was perhaps more appealing to me than Islamic education, which held less significance in the overall curriculum. I found memorizing a verse more daunting than creating a clearing in a solid mountain. Memorizing a poem seemed far easier than committing a chapter of the curriculum to memory. To this day, I am haunted by the trauma of being beaten by my father for not memorizing 'Al-Fatihah.'
My ability to memorize has weakened; my memory feels fragile. Forgetting has often overtaken much of what I painstakingly learned. I like to think that the gift of forgetfulness has buried the burdens of hatred and resentment that weigh heavily on the soul, distorting it with ugliness.
I may rise in rebellion against injustice, fiercely confronting it, and I cannot tolerate the oppression of those who trample on truth. Yet, I also try to be forgiving towards those who oppose me. I do not sever ties completely and can even forgive those who have wronged me if the injustice ceases or if the perpetrator is removed. I lean towards values of love, freedom, and forgiveness—or so I claim, or rather, I strive to embody.
I found some aspects of the Arabic language appealing, while others continue to elude me, leaving me feeling inadequate and unsuccessful even now. I have become hopeless at writing a single page without making spelling and grammatical errors. These issues have become another source of anxiety in my life, hampering much of what I write and tarnishing what I perceive as beautiful and enchanting. I fear they will accompany me until the end.
History was the subject I enjoyed most in middle school, primarily because the teacher was well-versed in the material. He would not leave a lesson until he had conveyed it to our understanding. He explained the lesson thoroughly, then dictated it to us, and revisited it through discussion—repetition that was never tedious, all delivered with great humility and without fatigue.
One of the most challenging subjects I faced during my middle school years was English. Schools in the south began teaching it from the fifth grade, while those in the north introduced it starting in the first year of middle school. When I completed the sixth grade in the north and moved to the first year of middle school in the south, I encountered a significant gap and immense difficulty in understanding the material. I had missed an entire year of English that I hadn't studied in the north, compounded by my prior struggles with the subject in the fifth grade at 'Sheb' school. This gap continued to widen throughout my subsequent educational journey, even extending into university, and the situation only worsened from there.
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