In Honor of October 5, World Teacher’s Day

Where exactly did you start the education? From the bed of a child who struggles with cancer or from the tired stature of a child at the crossroads of our ordinary lives? What was your textbook? The teary eyes of a child who was fed up with malnutrition or the trembling hands of a mother who wanted to be unashamed of her children’s future? Where was your class? Painful pits at the Darvaz-eh Ghar or Farahzad’s smoky and noisy hangouts?
Seems all the suffering you were screaming from the beginning was complicated in the ears of history, and now reach our ears. The same days that Muhammad, Jesus, Moses, and Abraham, the great teachers of history, pointed the finger at the suffering and reminded these vulnerable children. It was as the day that Imam Ali picked up the food bags and said: “Do not leave these children sometimes fed and sometimes not”, and now it is your turn to reconsider the lessons of Imam Ali to show these suffering children to all our forgetfulness mindes: “If you went to the university at society and there were children suffering at that society, the science of that university would be useless, Build a university and teach so that the child of your society does not suffer at it..

You spoke to the awakened minds of society about the torment of addicted children, those who had been denied for years, and whose presence was a number and lost among all the numbers.
You spoke of the suffering of girls who were children and forced into unwanted marriages as a result of their opiate-dealing elders. You had a class whose benches were under the roofs of Balochistan. Right next to the questioning gaze of children: “What is our share from the world?” Your textbook is the words of a sick child in the bed of. You are our teacher who showed us the way of humanity through the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

Now, in the midst of all these suffering people of the city, we have taken another suffering into our hearts. Your absence represent distance, your captivity at the hands of oppression that can’t recognizes the grace of your presence, they increase the burden of this suffering every day. Those who did not hearyour voice and did not want to attend to it. But we are still standing behind the walls, reviewing your advice: “Hope for change.” We hope even in the darkest moments of the day.
Although every day remains your day when you gave us a lamp to search for what cannot be found in this city.we have an excuse today to say: “Happy day, our teacher”