The worst thing about cancer they don’t tell you?

The aftermath. The shock waves.

It’s surviving the quick earthquake, only to find yourself dodging falling objects and electrical lines for the next few days.

What they failed to mention was that fighting cancer was the easy part.

The real battle was learning to live again.

I got the news of my cancer diagnosis as a young mother, and after we had moved to a new city with no close friends or family. The kids were 3, 6, 11, and 13. Summer break had just begun, and to make things worse, I could not drive. We were in the wilderness and were fighting for our lives.

We went into “survival mode,” literally and figuratively, and assigned each older child to a smaller child with the plan and knowledge that we could survive if each of the “bigs” both did a load of laundry and dishes a day. At one point, I had a goal to drop off the kids at school, so I could get three uninterrupted hours of sleep after my chemo treatment. I had finally dropped off the children at their three different schools, and my head had barely hit the pillow, when I received a phone call from the school.

“Mrs. Estes? You need to come pick up your children. They all have lice!”

Trials, temptations, disease, and now pestilence were hitting our household simultaneously. I remember thinking, “At least I can’t get it since my hair is gone,” and then laughed at the absurdity that we were so low that my “silver lining statement” included the phrase “Praise the Lord I’m bald.”

But that was not the hardest part. Not by a long shot.

The hardest part was after the storm, when the casseroles stopped coming and prayers had grown weary. The hardest part of fighting a deadly battle comes afterwards when the dust has settled and the gunsmoke has cleared and you find yourself standing in total rubble and destruction.

I shouldn’t say total. We had our health and were still married. Most do not escape with that, I learned. But we both were battered and bloodied. I had a visual representation come to mind of an old battleship slowly pulling into port – disfigured and worn, riddled with bullet holes and laden with shrapnel. We were afloat, but barely.

I awoke from my six-month drunken chemo state to find my life in ruins. While the “bigs” had done a wonderful job helping with the “littles,” there were still unmet needs and unspoken questions that the youngest mind’s lips couldn’t form, which resulted in one regressing into wetting his pants again in first grade and the other becoming a hair’s breath away from becoming non-verbal, screaming “Aaaaaa!” fifty times a day. All of this in addition to the “regular” stresses of having four children about to enter high school, middle school, kindergarten and first grade – and not to mention the emotional withdrawal that naturally comes in a marriage during crisis times and having a son with extreme learning disabilities.

At one point, I was finally able to lift my leg again, and I was able to climb the stairs to our second story – after a year. When I entered the playroom, the scene rivaled the ruins of a never-ending frat party, with beer bottles exchanged for sippy cups and ankle-deep trash covering the floor. It was a sign of what the kids had silently felt during our ordeal, and it served as a visual symbol of my life: ruined and messy.

In World War II, my grandfather was part of the company that liberated prisoner of war camps. At one point, he asked one of the prisoners what the difference was between those that made it out and those that did not.

“The ones that made it found something to look forward to – they had a goal,” he replied.

I took that advice and decided that when all the chemo and radiation was over, I would celebrate with the other cancer fighters I’d met while walking through the fire.

None of them made it. It was heartbreaking.

I “made do” by celebrating with all the friends and family who had prayed and supported us through the journey, but the weight was still felt. In addition to feeling thankful, I also shouldered the burden of false guilt from having survived when my other comrades had fought just as hard, sometimes harder. Soldier syndrome had come home to roost.

So, what do you do when you get through the war only to (symbolically) return to your home to find the farm overrun with thorns and that your wife has run off?

You start from scratch. And you begin with baby steps.

God was gracious, providing me with advice from an “older brother” in the church just when I needed it. He himself had come out of a near death, eight-day coma experience. He emerged paralyzed on one side, but no one would ever guess it today. The first thing he advised when I called him in tears was, “small goals, baby steps, little sister!”

When coming through tragedy, we want our life to be like it was “before,” but the “after” contains components the “before” never had. It is an “apples to oranges” comparison and is unfair to expect them to be the same. Life “after cancer” contains side effects such as “less energy” and “Chemo Brain” that affect what and how much can be done for a while. Just as I couldn’t expect to instantly run three miles again, nor should I have expected to jump instantly back into life, either. The girl who used to pay all the bills, pop dinner into the oven, and get all four kids ready for school before breakfast was now merely able to pay the bills by the end of the day. But that was okay, because that was enough.

Second piece of advice: good enough is good enough. Lower your expectations. Gone were the days of thinking “everything has a place, and everything should be in its place.” Life was still, even now, about survival. Gone were the days of a pristine home ready for entertainment at a moment’s notice; the day of “push aside the mess and have a seat” had come. And that is okay. Because, again, you are now living in a different reality. The good news? There is no fairy that is going to come grade you on how tidy or organized your home is. Your home is there to serve you, not the other way around. Feel free to live as such.

In addition, it is imperative to “accept the new reality” and “don’t look back.” At one point in the recovery process, I placed blinder goggles and a bottle of salt beside my bed to remind myself, “Don’t look back, lest you turn to a pillar of salt!” (like Lot’s wife). I was amazed at how many Bible verses there actually were with the theme of “pressing on” and “not looking back.” The message was clear: the past is the past, and the present is the present. Make sure to live in the right one. Thinking back to how things used to be and trying to make your world look now like it did back then is a guaranteed, instant trip to Insanity Land. Accept that now will not look like then, nor is it supposed to. Celebrate every “new” baby step and make recovery a big ol’ party!

One of the hardest pieces of advice to follow is: try to humble yourself. As a natural giver, this concept was the most difficult for me until a friend helped me realize that life is not all about me, and if I do not ask for help, then I am literally robbing givers of the chance to use their spiritual gift to give. Ecclesiastes makes it clear that life is divided into seasons, and this is perhaps your season to be a receiver. Accept it as you would a blessing for it will bless others as they minister to you.

A final word of advice on the journey of learning to live again: have a creative outlet and take time to feed your soul. Anything from songwriting, to painting, to simply coloring will help balm your weary mind as you learn to do things anew again. For me, I finally completed my novel, began songwriting, and never missed a sunset at our local park for three months straight. Learning to live again is like learning to walk again – hard and tiring. You must make the time to restore and renew your mind, spirit, and soul.

Of course, this all goes with the understanding that we are constantly praying and praising God for every single blessing He brings our way. It can be big things, like climbing stairs again – or small things, like hearing the song of a robin or seeing a butterfly. Whatever the size of the blessing that comes your way that day, praise God for it! And remember: like the butterfly in the cocoon, this season, too, is temporary and will pass.

As I sit and wait for my day of judgment,
I ponder the future.

Can I continue to live my life as I dream and desire?
Or will I remain doomed to a lifetime of cries
and days of gloom?

People say that I am arrogant and full of myself.
I say that if you really know me and my life,
you would understand the struggle that lies within my heart.

Living as I do, I have to be this way.
Not able to shed tears, for fear
that my moment of weakness will appear.
Trying to remain hard,
not to show my cards
so that I can have another day of happiness with my kids.

Learning how to be a mother and a woman above all,
and yearning for the life of a family: I so desperately need that.

But I have to put my past life behind me
and never look back.

I can’t live the past and feel peace within my heart,
because if the streets don’t wear me down,
the nightmares will tear me apart.

They say crying heals the soul.
I wonder how true that is.
I cry every night in hopes that I get my soul back.

This is a two-way street, so speak—
but I am sorry to say,
it can only go one way.

Combining sports and education, and motivated by faith, Hassan Fofana is helping dreams come true for students in West Africa.

I first met Hassan Fofana in 2006, at a friend’s house in Baltimore, Maryland. Hassan was studying at Loyola College and I was at Temple University. The two of us were an unusual pair. Hassan, who was born in Guinea and grew up in Togo, is nearly seven feet tall; he was a center on Loyola’s basketball team. On my good days, I’m five feet, eight inches tall.

Despite the humor that ensued when the two of us stood side by side, we became fast friends, united by a shared passion for social justice. At the time, my experiences with the larger world were minimal, but at only 21, Hassan was already a worldly man. At the age of 14, when Hassan was still living in Togo, he’d been one of 55 kids to try out for an American basketball coach. The coach was offering one scholarship to a prep school in Massachusetts. It was, Hassan once told me, a hopelessly long shot. And yet, at the end of the try out, Hassan was chosen. Barely a teenager, he left his family and home to enroll at Hargrave Military Academy in Boston. He didn’t speak a word of English.

Despite being so far from home, and in a strange country, Hassan embraced the opportunity. He won a scholarship to play basketball at the University of Maryland, under hall of fame coach Gary Williams, and after that he transferred to Loyola College, where he earned a degree in International Relations and Philosophy.

Throughout his journey, Hassan was shocked by the kindness of people he met along the way – especially the Gibbons family and his mentor, Mike Zona. Generosity wasn’t unusual for Hassan, of course. He grew up with devout Muslim parents, who taught him both the value of an education and the generosity that their faith preached.

“For as long as I can remember, my parents ha(d) always ha(d) 1 to 3 guests in our home. They w(ould) stay there for as long as they like(d) for free housing and food,” Hassan told me.

These lessons, and the continual generosity he encountered, left a deep mark on Hassan. While he was at Loyola, he began to have an inkling that he wanted to spend his life serving others.

Shortly before Hassan and I met in 2006, he returned to Togo for only the second time since leaving for the U.S. The trip, which would change his life, had been made possible by a dear friend and businessman who had asked Hassan what he missed most about his home. Hassan said he missed the sense of community – the way that everyone knew everyone else’s name, and how neighbors watched out for each other – and he missed his family. Hassan has many siblings, and he missed their large, sprawling family meals and the easy camaraderie that brothers and sisters have together.

While back in Togo, Hassan and a friend were watching a group of kids – most of them around twelve years old – play soccer. Hassan still knew most of the kids in his town, and was curious why some children weren’t out there with their friends. His friend told Hassan that many of the children had been taken out of school. Because their families were struggling for money, the boys’ fathers had decided that school was a waste of time. They weren’t playing soccer because they were working – many of them for less than five dollars a day.

Hassan was troubled by this. Sports and education had always been linked in his mind. After all, it was a sport that had allowed him to pursue a higher education in America. Watching that soccer game, Hassan began to get a sense of what he wanted to do with his life. When I met him that fall, he told me that, inspired by his trip back home, he wanted to open schools for athletes in Africa. He wanted to help young kids, just like himself, to get a real education.

“I was convinced that this was my mission on this earth,” he says.

Now, eight years later, Hassan is beginning to make his dream a reality. In 2012, after a few false starts, Hassan formed Time2Ball Foundation, which aims to connect student-athletes in West Africa with prep coaches in the United States and Europe. The hope is that these kids will use their athletics to get the kind of world class education they can’t get in Africa – and through education, open up all kinds of opportunities for themselves and their communities. With the help of donors, educators, coaches, and local community leaders, since 2012, Hassan has brought eleven teenagers from Africa to study at high schools in the United States and Europe.

Though Hassan lives and works in the U.S – and though all his student-athletes are coming to study in the U.S. and Europe – Hassan still has his gaze focused on Africa. He firmly believes that the continent can fix its problems through its young leaders getting better educations. Inspired by his own devout faith, Hassan stresses the need to give back to others. He encourages the student-athletes that he works with not just to pursue their own goals, but to be generous and to help others achieve their dreams, too. Through this intense focus on community and generosity, Hassan hopes that many of Time2Ball’s student-athletes will ultimately return to Africa to help open up more avenues of opportunity in local communities.

I recently spoke with Hassan and asked him what has been the best part of his work. He told me a story about a young man who had dropped out of school in Togo and had found work cleaning roads. Time2Ball was able to connect him with a basketball coach in the U.S., where he’s now a junior in high school, with a B+ grade average and possible college scholarships on the table. As Hassan told me, being able to help someone like this boy achieve his dream of a better life is “a true blessing.”

Despite its early success, Time2Ball still faces plenty of challenges going forward, such as funding and housing for its student-athletes. Because it’s still small, unfortunately, there are many student-athletes Time2Ball hasn’t been able to help. Hassan says that he’s constantly looking for new solutions to these problems. He’s hoping that, in the future, a stable network of donors and schools will allow him to focus more on finding student-athletes. But he’s not there yet, and is looking for all the help he can get.

Even with these challenges, Hassan has big dreams for Time2Ball. Within the next five years, he’d like to expand Time2Ball’s influence by helping athletes in many sports connect with coaches (for now, Time2Ball only works with basketball and soccer players). He’d also like to help aspiring artists in Africa find better opportunities to develop their talents.

The long term dream, though, is still the same as it was when Hassan and I met over eight years ago: he wants to open a series of schools in Togo and West Africa that will utilize kids’ love of sports to improve their access to a quality education. Driven by faith and the generosity of many people he has met along the way, Hassan Fofana is helping dreams come true, one education at a time.

Please feel free to contact Hassan if you have any questions or you would like to contribute to our effort in helping young men and women improve their lives through education and sport. Contact via email: Time2Ballinc@gmail.com or via skype: fhassan16.

Love is the bond between all things – the light and life of existence. We love ourselves, our families, the place we live, our nation, living things, the world, and the whole universe. We feel pleasure when people we love are happy, and we feel pain at their pain. Sometimes it is hard to see something as so valuable or wonderful, particularly when there is plenty of it to go around or when it happens all the time. We forget that every healthy baby born is a miracle. We are surprised by one that has seven toes, not the ones who are perfect. How many of us are grateful every time we swallow something, take a breath, sleep or even go to the bathroom? If somebody loses sleep, or loses a kidney, then they know how good it was when they had it. Maybe sometimes we should think in the negative to see how it is right now.

For instance, let’s assume there wasn’t love in the world. Just think: nobody loved their spouses, their kids, their jobs, their country, employees, students, or friends. The trees feed themselves with muddy water, but feed their kids (fruit) with sugar, milk, and honey. What if they didn’t? What if they just became selfish? What if God didn’t love us? Didn’t listen to our prayers, and punished us with every little mistake we made? Would the sun still come up and smile at us in the morning? Would rain fall to give life to soil? Maybe not… The sun loves the plants, the plants love the sun. Animals like plants, and we love all of them. Love connects everything and everybody together. It forms families, turns a job or a class into fun, and makes labor pains bearable. It makes this big, scary, dark world, a home.

Whose faults do you see more clearly – those you love or those you don’t love? Doesn’t love hide all flaws and even turn flaws into something you might love later?

If I had to make a recipe for love, I would add more compassion than passion. Lots of relationships start with passionate love, but they will last longer when there is compassion. Love is not always looking at each other; sometimes it is simply looking in the same direction.

Our nature consists of a body and a soul. The body is to the soul what a purse is to the gold it holds. It is the spirit that matters, not the body. When the soul leaves the body, they do not let it stay at home. They bury it quickly. Our bodies are like a torch. Our reason, knowledge, and love are the light coming out of it. They light up our way. Remember that the two containers in us, the mind and the heart, never fill up. The more you learn, the more you can learn; the more you love, the more you can love. Our souls can also be compared to a pool. Our behaviors, habits, our five senses, and what we see, hear, and feel with them are like taps filling it up. What is in the pool depends on what flows from the taps. What do you want to fill it with? Love, hate, gossip, prayer, nice words, apps? You pick…

Love is the greatest motivator of all time. The wind and the sun argue about who is the strongest. The wind points to a guy on the street and says it will make the man lose his jacket. However, the mightier it blows, the harder the guy holds on to his jacket. When the sun shows its face, he takes it off willingly. Love and fear are two very strong feelings. You can make your kids eat healthy and you can make your students study; you can make your employees work hard and, in general, you can make people do things by intimidating them with harsh words, but this motivation is temporary. When you are not looking, they will go back to their old ways. But if it is in their heart, if they love it, you don’t have to be watching them all the time.

It is impossible to for me to not remember Rumi, the heart of the circle of guidance of his time, when thinking about love. People from all religions were drawn to him like spiritual butterflies drawn to light. He has been titled, “The Sultan of Lovers.” His is divine love, a fiery one with constant longing. During separation, he burns with fire. He shows no discontent though, because of the requirement for passion. Refraining from complaint is a sign of loyalty towards the beloved. For him, death is like a festival; it is a means for unity with the loved one. Rumi unifies the love of God with the love of humanity. He came to the conclusion that to love humans is to love God. A Turkish saying – we love all creation for we love the Creator – works in parallel with this.

Even if I don’t know what to say about love, I hope I can at least feel it and spread it. I hope all of us have lives filled with infinite love. Love that will make us love more, that will help us to be better people, and to really feel that we are alive. As Rumi says, “Every mortal will taste death, but only some will taste life.”

Balci holds M.S. in Microbiology and Molecular Biology. She is currently a Science teacher at Pinnacle Academy, VA.

When a father’s inquisitive daughter asks him, “Why he is God invisible?” he thinks he’s getting off with an easy question. But the answer is far more complex, and wise, than he could have imagined.

Having an adolescent at home is a challenge, but answering their questions without triggering other question is a totally different one. And I should know this, because what else can you expect from the curious daughter of a researcher-father? Almost every day, she unloads a question on me, and the rest of my day is buried into deep thoughts over the answer.

Well, this time, I thought her question was an easy one. She asked, “Dad, why is God invisible?” Wow, that was easy. I felt like a child who knows the answer to the question the teacher asked:

“Our eyes are not capable of seeing Him. There are other things, too, that are invisible for us; like love or intelligence.” That was it. I was smiling in celebration of my effortless success. But my daughter, she wasn’t smiling:

“I didn’t ask why we can’t see Him. I said why is He invisible; that is why did He choose to be invisible to us?”

Good grief! How in the world should I know? I just tried to save the moment by giving the most straight forward answer: “Well, this life is an examination for humans. God invites us to find Him, and choose to submit to Him without seeing. That’s the rule of the game, or the challenge of the exam.”

She didn’t look satisfied with what I said. After a few seconds of silence, she blurted out: “Ok, it is part of what I am looking for, but not exactly.”

“If you can define what you are after, we can search for it, you know.”

“Dad! I remember you telling me that you can ask the perfect question only if, and when, you know the answer. If I don’t know the answer, how can I perfectly ask about it?”

Right there, I was shot with my own gun. I had used those words a few times to escape a mental fight or to avoid getting caught with an insufficient explanation. But, being daddy’s girl, she picked it up too quickly and she was expecting me to figure out what in her mind without her telling me. So this was something I was used to. All I needed was to focus: “Why is God invisible? Why did He choose to be invisible?”

Being invisible while being there… Things are better understood when juxtaposed with their opposites. So, I started thinking about being visible but not being there. This sounded like the people who shake hands with you while talking to somebody else, or those who can’t help looking at a computer or cell phone screen while talking with you. Then I remembered the cliche father depiction in the movies: a person who exists but no more – and the rest of the movie is focused on filling that void from lack of a father’s love! I realized that my brainstorm was taking me far far away… But the concept of parenthood? Maybe there was help in it.

Being good parents… I recalled the examples in the books and seminars about parenting. “Helicopter” parents would help their child in everything to the point that they would not let the child enjoy the feeling of success. Such kids would have difficulty in developing self confidence and entrepreneurship. “Absentee parents,” on the other hand, would not bother themselves, even if their kids were crushed under incessant failure. Such kids would have difficulty in developing trust and establishing long-term commitment. But what about these musings? Were they of help to probe into my daughter’s curious mind?

I remembered that parents were extremely important because the relationship between them and the child was the framework for the relationship between the individual and God. And conversely, God’s lordship was a model for parenting. So, if God chose to be invisible, was it a lesson for me as a parent?

For example, He was invisible, but He was not absent. People discovered God best when they were in their most desperate situations. And in normal times, He was enabling us to enjoy success and self-confidence by helping and guiding us in our actions without overriding our egos. Had this help and guidance been substituted by His infinite Will and Power always, we could not have controlled our actions, and so, we could not have developed even the notion of self.

I felt like I found a great gift for my daughter. But was this enough? Was this what she was looking for? Or part of it? Who knows? Perhaps, I should keep thinking. After all, I was her hero; I should not ruin her dreams.

I remembered how I was disappointed by some of my superheroes. In my childhood, superheroes were depicted as people who were there only in times of danger and emergencies. So, they were never put into contexts that would reveal a lack of character or a need to be cared for. But in recent times, superheroes were likely to be depicted with defects in their personalities. Even sometimes, they were shown trying to cover up those defects with their powers, making the picture even worse.

I did not want to disappoint my daughter. But as much as I was her hero, I was a human: a regular human with insufficiencies and mistakes. And, so was she. In any case, I didn’t want to be remembered through my negatives. Wasn’t I educated not to hit people in the face with their mistakes – but on the contrary, to cover them, if possible? Right at that moment, I saw that being invisible was the perfect way God did this for us. If He revealed His presence every time we did something wrong, how shameful would that be?

But, whether covering a flaw or doing a favor, what crowned those good deeds was when the person who committed them didn’t expect anything back. The best help was described as “done by the right hand without the left hand being aware of it.” Doing favors while being invisible like angels was the ideal. So, the other person only knows that they have been covered, and that’s it. They can’t see anyone who is going to ask for a return by reminding them of the favor; they can’t remember a face whose appearance would rekindle the regrets of the past mistakes. Their pride is not wounded, and their dignity is intact. They are left with a gratitude that can only be paid forward by doing the same for others. I thought, in this context, being invisible was another way by which God taught us benevolence and magnanimity by example.

Having gone through all these thoughts, I was guessing that I had found enough answers for my daughter. But since I had not figured out a way to deliver those answers without being visible, I was expecting her to have enough of me after a minute, and without much listening, to produce another question. I was wrong, and I was correct. She listened to me completely and attentively. Then she added:

“Today, during the exam, the teacher stood beside me for a minute. You cannot imagine what a stressful minute it was. Not that I was doing anything wrong, but seeing her made me so nervous. I remembered that you had told me that we were in an exam in this life. Then it dawned upon me that God being invisible was not only a part of the exam, but also a part of the help to success.”

This time, we both smiled… until she reloaded me with:

“Then why did God give the need for self-confidence and success, if they potentially lead to arrogance?”

In a globalized world, some regions – like Anatolia, which could be considered a bridge from east-to-west, past-to-future, and a melting pot for different cultures and religions – could pull from their centuries-long experience in child education to help others.
Ali Fethi Toprak

Child education or training is one of the biggest challenges parents face. During the child-raising process, every parent experiences some difficulties and needs help and guidance. Therefore, many parents naturally look for resources to educate themselves on how to better raise their children.

Pedagogy, defined as the art or science of teaching, offers different educational methods and models for children’s education. Some methods are so common that they are institutionalized. For example, there are about 4,000 certified Montessori schools in the United States, and about 7,000 worldwide. However, the necessity of a prepared environment and special Montessori teachers make this method available only to those who can afford it.

In addition to economic considerations, many pedagogical approaches in different countries have to balance cultural, religious, and regional considerations, so to better educate children. In a globalized world, some regions – like Anatolia, which could be considered a bridge from east-to-west, past-to-future, and a melting pot for different cultures and religions – could pull from their centuries-long experience in child education to help others.

Although most of the world only became interested in child education after the dawn of the twentieth century, there has been a long standing tradition of child education and training in Anatolia. Just as people specializing in child education today are called pedagogues, Anatolian professionals were called “mürebbî” and “murebbiye” during the Ottoman period. A mürebbî, or governess, provided great support in child training to parents, and when parents fell short or needed guidance in any respect, mürebbîs were in the immediate vicinity, available to help.

Fathers were also important figures in childhood education, and the Anatolian children were living as honorable members of society. Besides, Anatolia was an admired center for peace during this period. A Western observer, A. Ubicini (1818-1884, Lettres sur la Turquie – Letters on Turkey), made the following note in his diary on the role of the father; it is a great example of the father-model which today’s pedagogy is seeking:

“I don’t know of any other country where children live with so much love, care and compassion. Oddly enough, all this compassion and care is deepened in the fathers rather than mothers. It is really something to see that an Ottoman Turk holds his kid’s hand and walks with him on the road on Fridays (holiday in Ottoman times) or on another holiday. He keeps his steps as small as his child’s. When realizing that the child is tired, he puts him on his shoulders or let’s him sit by him while he rests in a coffee house, and he speaks to him with a great compassion and care.”

Understanding the roots of Anatolian pedagogy

There are studies to understand the basis of childhood education in the Anatolian model. Pedagogue Adem Güneş provides a systematic approach called “Anatolian Pedagogy.” According to his model, Anatolian Pedagogy aims to educate children in a way that is more compatible with the true human nature. It abstains from any behavior or stress that will disturb the nature of children. The nature of children is like that of plain paper. Since whatever is initially imprinted on it will remain for rest of its life, parents should aim to leave good images on this clean page.

In addition, according to Anatolian Pedagogy, a child should not be afraid to make mistakes, and parents, as much as possible, should not interfere with issues arising from childhood. Instead, mistakes should be accepted as strong and easily remembered lessons that provide a path for kids to correct themselves. Furthermore, Anatolian Pedagogy states that every child should be treated differently. Because Anatolian Pedagogy puts an emphasis on the differences of children, kids are not treated equal, but treated justly. For example, if one child is emotional while another is more social, the way parents show their love, mercy, and care should not be the same for both. Anatolian Pedagogy also implies that parents should not buy their children the same type of clothes. In addition, parents should not have the same expectations for the future education of different children.

Anatolian approach to reward and punishment

The approach of Anatolian Pedagogy to punishment is mainly shaped by the teachings of Prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon him. He educated kids not with punishment, but through mercy and compassion. Anatolian Pedagogy, thus, affirms that punishment will cause kids to lose self-esteem and will make them embarrassed. Moreover, Anatolian Pedagogy does not confirm giving rewards in order to change the unwanted behavior of kids. Thus, it aims to avoid the development of any artificial behaviors or false personalities in children.

The importance of living a child-centric life

Anatolian Pedagogy recommends that parents be tightly connected with their children. Interestingly, Anatolian Pedagogy advises parents to earn the love of their kids to avoid the common misconception that “your kids love you only because you are their parents.” From this perspective, mercy and love toward children should be unconditional. Kids must become aware of this, so that they do not fall into indebtedness.

Another aspect of Anatolian Pedagogy deals with the understanding of children’s emotions. Parenthood is not possible without this consideration. Parents in the Anatolian model were expected to adjust their lives according to their kid’s world – to live a kid-centered lifestyle. This also includes not disturbing the biological rhythm of children. A common problem of modern times is to live fast, and this may end up meaning “living without feeling.” Anatolian Pedagogy aims to prevent such carelessness.

Effect of culture on childhood education

Pedagogical advice cannot be independent from the traditions that compose a community. If cultural differences are not taken into consideration, the advice given for childhood education will be a new source of problems. The suggestions to solve similar problems in child training may even be different for families who live in the same region, but in different cities.

For instance, some habits considered as usual in a family from a metropolitan city can be unusual in a family from a rural city. If it is so different in the same country, imagine how pedagogical methods can differ from country to country? Would a German family and a British family have the same pedagogical perspectives? Could you compare the family structure and child training techniques in a French or Turkish family? In some cultures, it is essential that the child leaves his parents when he is 18, and he should be able to earn his own living, thus becoming an independent thinker who contributes to the social, economic, and intellectual welfare of the community. Under such conditions, the goal is to ensure that a child doesn’t have any emotional weaknesses. From this perspective, keeping a child’s emotions controlled is a positive. As a result, there are differences between this perspective and the Anatolian model.

These differences between Europe and Anatolia do not mean, “European pedagogy is bad,” and, “Anatolian Pedagogy is the best.” On the contrary, Europe defines its pedagogic standards by its own cultural values. European pedagogical approaches could be acceptable and valid for Europe. But if you try to apply them in Anatolia, or vice versa, they will likely be incompatible.

Each society should establish its own science of pedagogy from its own values. For this reason, pedagogical experts who understand their own cultural values should establish scientific theories for their own country and land. In the West, Piaget, Van der Horst, John Bowby, Alice Miller, and Maria Montessori have been influential; Sufi masters Mawlana Jalaluddin Rumi and Yunus Emre, who are marvels of love, compassion, and peace, offer great examples of Anatolian pedagogy that could inspire the world.

• Hatice Kocabas is a Psychology Student at FernUniversität in Hagen, Germany.
• Adem Gunes is the Chair of Child Education Department, Fatih University, Istanbul.
• Ali Fethi Toprak is a Senior Researcher, Texas Institute of Biotechnology at North American College, Houston, TX, USA

References

1. Montessori Schools. Retrieved from http://www.montessori.edu/FAQ.html on 03/04/12.

2. Montessori education. Retrieved from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Montessori_education on 03/04/12.

3. Adem Güneş. Anatolian Pedagogy 1&2. Şebmen Dergisi. Retrieved from http://www.sebnemdergisi.com on 03/04/12.

4. Adem Güneş (Pedagogue). Pedagojide Anadolu Ekolü & Insanlığı zirvelere taşımış terbiye yöntemi. Retrieved from http://www.ademgunes.com/?p=271 and p=677 on 03/04/12.

The door to room 153 opened and a blond-haired, blue-eyed boy walked out alone. His eyes went immediately to the spot where he knew she would be waiting. “Mommy!” he squealed, and a smile brighter than sunshine burst across his young face. His lanky legs kicked out at a slightly odd angle as he ran towards the one person he had been waiting to see since 8:30 am that morning.

As he got near, he shed his backpack. As Mom welcomed him into her arms, the hug nearly knocked her over. “I missed you, Mommy!”

This is how you will find me at 2:30 pm every school day of the year. My name is Kimberly Parker. I am a mother of three children. My oldest son, Cooper, has autism.

When Cooper was born, I ended my career as a Sales & Marketing Director to remain home with him. I embraced this plan, as it allowed me freedom to not only spend oodles of time with our son, but also gave me time to work on creative projects, particularly writing, that I had abandoned in my climb up the corporate pyramid.

When Cooper was 16 months old, we realized he had significantly stunted language development. Specialists were seen, and we soon knew that the challenges we faced had a name: autism.

Fast forward 5+ years. Our family now consists of Cooper, age 8; Benjamin, age 6; and Kacey, age 4. My husband and I have worked hard to keep our heads above water while meeting our family’s needs, and our extended family and friends help us tremendously.

Even with all of the help, I know my son better than anyone else on this planet knows him. I say this not to sound prideful – it is a matter of fact. My husband is a wonderful father, however, since I am the person who is with Cooper the most, out of sheer desperation I have had to learn to understand my son by merely looking into his eyes. His language processing challenges make it difficult for him to understand things in the way typically developing children do.

Most parents of children with autism are in a similar position. They are the experts in dealing with their children. Because our day-to-day functioning depends upon it, we parents have to learn how to build relationships with our children. These relationships serve as the foundation for everything else that happens.

The problem is that the thousands of children who have autism will, one day, grow to be adults with autism.

I’d be a liar if I said that the question, “What will happen to my son when I die?” does not at times keep me awake at night. Does anyone know him better than I? Is anyone in a deeper relationship with him? Does anyone love him more than my husband and I do? When the loving, knowledgeable caregivers of these children pass away (which inevitably will happen), is our society prepared to care for people who are unable to fully care for themselves? It isn’t right now, but it can be.

Never mind 72 hours, 72 years would probably not be enough to fully prepare my son to face the world without the mother to whom he is attached. However, I believe that in 72 hours, I can ignite a fire that can help prepare the world for my son.

Many schools have begun to implement programs to teach kids about the various disorders and disabilities which are increasing in alarming numbers. Each school year Cooper’s classmates learn, to some degree, how to function in the classroom with a peer who has special needs. At the beginning of the year, teachers talk to his peers about autism. Kids learn that Cooper has challenges, and they are told that they must be accepting and helpful friends to him.

This is a good beginning. But it is only a beginning.

Is it enough to teach them how to co-exist in a world with people who think differently, who communicate differently, and who have extraordinary needs?

I don’t believe so.

Kids don’t simply need to learn how to tolerate one another – they must to learn how to build relationships with one another. Those who are different do not need to be merely acknowledged as different – they need people to come alongside them, people who will seek to understand the depths of their individuality.

When a child with autism is alone on the playground – it isn’t enough that other kids refrain from bullying him. Can even one child dare to come close and seek to engage him? And when that doesn’t work, will the child be content to sit near him and just share the same breathing space – because he or she understands that for a person with autism, simply having someone nearby can be enough to foster feelings of acceptance?

My vision is to see a system implemented in our schools in which children learn how to be intentional about building better relationships. We can empower and equip kids to care for their peers in a way that goes way beyond tolerance. No matter what their age, kids can learn skills at a level they can understand. Intentionally building upon these skills throughout their education will not only build a better world for kids with autism – it will build a better world for everyone.

There are experts who have dedicated their lives to helping autistic children and their parents learn to build relationships with each other. There are others who have developed peer-to-peer training sessions for school use. I believe we can take the knowledge from these experts, combine them into a complete program, and teach these skills in our schools so that parents are not the only ones who hold the key to their child’s relationships.

In my 72 hours, if given the resources, I would engage three experts: Dr. Steve Gutstein (Relationship Development Intervention specialist for children with autism), Dr. Gordon Neufeld (expert in attachment and anti-bullying) and Heather McCracken (founder of Friend 2 Friend Learning Society). They have each developed materials that address different components of this problem. However, if these experts came together, I believe a complete, life-changing strategy could be designed and presented to educators.

In 72 hours, I would seek for the four of us to spend a day brainstorming what this plan could entail, and then gather as many educators as possible to cast a vision and ignite a fire: from parents and teachers to University Education Department Heads to U.S. State Educators to the Canadian Minister of Education and all the way to the U.S. Secretary of Education. This fire would move them to action to see a new type of preparation brought into schools. Not for the sake of another program or something “to-do,” but for the sake of building a society of people who know how to love selflessly, to prepare them for life together.

With myself as the parent-champion, my son at my side, and Dr. Gutstein, Dr. Neufeld and Mrs. McCracken to speak about the psychological benefits and technical aspects, we could introduce them to a new way to do “tolerance” in the form of attachment and relationship building in peers.

Imagine…

The 72-hour period was filled with a whirlwind of activity. Along with the field experts, Mom and son spoke powerfully to hundreds of people, presenting a radical vision. They shed light on the magnitude of the problem that autistic children and adults everywhere encounter. They also began an awakening of the need to prepare for a world to come. They saw faces light up with passion and high-level educators commit to not letting the dream of a selfless society fade.

As Mom hugged her son for what she knew would be the last time, her heart was not heavy – it was full of hope. Surrounding them were hundreds of outstretched arms which she knew would take her place in helping this little boy for the rest of his life. And as she said her final “I love you,” she knew that her life had been well-lived.

In 2004, Kim’s son was diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder. She writes to equip others to better understand autism and the families who love the autistic. She enjoys connecting with parents facing the seemingly insurmountable challenges of autism and helping them find joy. She is also a Christian author and speaker. Her first published book is called Radical Love…Forever Changed. You can follow Kim’s blog or connect with her at www.SimplyCreativeWriting.com.

I could not talk to him for awhile, because I was worried about disappointing him. However, it was not fair not to tell him as soon as possible. In a few months I would need some time off and he would need some time to find a new person to replace me. I was aware of the fact that he actually would not be able to lay me off because of my pregnancy. He would not act against the Pregnancy Discrimination Act. According to this amendment women affected by pregnancy or related conditions must be treated in the same manner as other applicants or employees with similar abilities or limitations. In academia, on the other hand, there is a high risk of getting scooped by a competitor if you delay publishing and that’s why scholars are pressured to publish new work quickly. The saying “publish or perish” is well-known in academia; therefore, my boss would need to find somebody who will be able to work significantly more hours than I can work. It was not ethical to delay telling him anymore even if I did not want to quit and knew that when I want to go back to work, it will not be so easy to find a job. I was also aware of the fact that in scientific research, if I slow down and take a couple years off, I am done. It is not good enough to have a PhD degree to set me apart from my competitors on the job market. I am expected to get high-quality publications out to apply for a tenure-track faculty position. I need to constantly be an active and productive researcher.

At last, I have talked to my boss. He was very rational. He asked me if I could manage doing research and raising two kids because research was never meant to be an 8 am to 5:30 pm job. It was not a simple question to answer. I knew that with kids, no matter where I am or what job I have, my life will be challenging. To keep both a family and an academic career intact I need discipline, planning, and some help at work and home. I won’t have time for chatting with colleagues, talking on the phone with friends, reading e-mails or taking lunch breaks at work. I will make long to do lists, and prioritize each item and if I can not get all of them done. I will not stress myself out. Instead, I will be happy with the things I have accomplished. Furthermore, balancing career and family life is a team effort so I need to share parenting duties with my husband, who is also overwhelmed at work. The most difficult part is that I have to deal with the guilt associated with leaving my children to go to work everyday. I love them with all my heart and it is so hard to see them crying behind me when I leave them for work.

The actual question was if I really want to go through all this trouble. I began to think about my motivation for my academic career. Many years ago, as a young woman who was trying to find a direction for my life, I had heard about a Turkish Muslim scholar, Fethullah Gulen. As I studied his teachings more, my perception on the roles of women in society had changed. I realized that I can take on many roles besides being a wife and a mother. My conclusion from his teachings was that men or women, every single human being, should serve God, and that serving humanity is serving God since it is done for the sake of His love. Then I thought that doing science, especially studying biochemistry, would be a great way to serve humanity. By the divine grace of God and with the help of biochemistry, I might prevent the spread of diseases, find cures for them, enhance the nutritional value of crops or even improve plant resistance against environmental stresses, and thus help so many people around the world.

Furthermore, the first word revealed in the Quran was “iqra” meaning “read” (96:1) followed by:

In and with the name of your Lord, Who created–
Created human from a clot clinging (to the wall of the womb).
Read, and your Lord is the All-Munificent,
Who has taught (human) by the pen,
Taught human what he did not know.

“Iqra” is a command to read the signs the Creator placed in creation. So, for me, biochemistry is not only the study of the chemical processes that happen in living things but also a way to better understand God’s Mercy, Wisdom, and Power. When I look at a tiny cell under a microscope, or study its biology in a book, I am fascinated by its perfect structure created in such a small size. This little thing controls so many complicated biological pathways at the same time without messing them up. Then, I ask myself who makes cells from nothing and inspires each one to do all those complex functions. The creation of the little cells, the delicate balances in all the cellular pathways, the nutrients and minerals provided to maintain their lives etc. allow me to better understand God’s eternal wisdom, power and mercy. Furthermore, the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, has said: “Seeking knowledge is mandatory for every Muslim (male and female)” and “Whoever takes a path for knowledge, Allah will make an easy way for him or her to paradise.” In brief, knowledge and science are my vehicles that can take me to God and heaven. When I re-thought all the reasons why I got into this field, I decided to continue on my journey as a scientific researcher, but this time with some “obstacles.”

After 2 months of thinking, planning and contemplating, I told my boss that I would do as much as I can to be a successful scientist and a mother. Afterwards, I even started enjoying my pregnancy and being a mother for the second time. I found comfort and inspiration from a saying of the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him: “Heaven lies under the feet of mothers.” This means a lot to me. I am so happy that all the hard work I do as a mother to raise my kids to become good individuals will be awarded hereafter by God. So, motherhood was an opportunity and honor God has given me, not a burden. I said to myself that as millions of other working women, I will face many difficulties, but this should not prevent me from celebrating every milestone in this pregnancy and afterwards. I would try my best to be a mother like the one in Gracie Harmon’s memorable quote: “My mom is a never ending song in my heart of comfort, happiness, and being. I may sometimes forget the words but I always remember the tune.” I may not prepare dinners like the ones in cooking shows for my kids; I may not do it all and do it well all the time; but I can still be a mother who provides the most care, love, and compassion for her kids. In addition, no matter how tired I am after a long and busy day, if my two little angels greet me with hugs and kisses that will make me happy. They will cheer me up at home so that I will forget all the problems and stress at work. Besides, it will be wonderful and so much fun to explore their world which is so innocent, lovely and full of joy. I am so blessed to have these tiny, cute and adorable creatures around me.

Going through all of this and reading a lot on this subject have helped me realize a few things. First of all, there is no convenient time for me to have babies in academia. It is a dilemma whether pregnancy is more reasonable during graduate school even with dissertation writing and teaching than it is when I am on the job market or have a tenure-track job or a postdoctoral research position. Second, I need a lot of support and encouragement to maintain my motivation. I need my husband’s help to overcome the challenges of managing a family and an academic career. He can’t do anything about 5 months of morning sickness and another full year of nursing and sleep deprivation, but he can share parenting responsibilities and household chores. Third, according to a study done by Virginia Valian, who is a distinctive professor of psychology at Hunter College, females are only 13% of all the full professors at universities and 21% at colleges ; therefore, more universities started to promote their female faculty’s research programs in the science and engineering departments to ensure that more women are walking the halls of academia. For example, Brown University and the University of Rhode Island got $3.3 and $3.5 million grants respectively from the National Science Foundation in 2007 to develop the careers of women in science and engineering departments, where they are significantly underrepresented. There is also a Women Faculty Mentoring Program at the University of Wisconsin-Madison which seeks to support and retain women assistant professors throughout the tenure process. These kinds of programs, which provide funding for principal investigators with their own research projects, or for the inclusion of female researchers, are exciting opportunities and show the support of society and the academic community for women and mothers. This highly encourages me to pursue research and helps me know that I am not alone.

As a result, I am happy with my choice about being a mother and an academic even though it is tough and stressful. I did not deliver my baby who was a beautiful gift from heaven on Friday and go to work on Monday. I took a month off after the delivery, so my research halted for a month; however, I am back now. Am I ever going to get a tenure-track job and get tenure? Am I going to be my little ones’ unforgettable tune? Simply, I do not know, but I sure hope so.

Safiye Arslan is a research fellow in the area of biological chemistry and lives in Nevada.