Ministry of Education
On Wednesday 25 July, Hossein and I went to the Ministry of Education, Section of Foreign Schools to apply for the equivalence of our children’s school reports and to enrol them to the Adaptive school which caters for children coming from abroad. The official, austere and aloof, handed us two forms to fill in. Halfway through one, Hossein realised that he should have been filling the forms in the children’s names; he asked for a new one.
‘Everything for you,’ the official said. ‘You decide to go abroad, you take the children with you, you decide to come back, they’ve got to follow. What choice have they got?’
Hossein smiled nervously.
‘Am I speaking out of turn, madam?’ he turned to me.
‘No, of course you are right.’
He thawed. He looked at the school reports, Athena’s for Year 9 and Yusef’s for Year 7. Because in England children go to school at five, based on the years they have studied, Athena should be placed in the second year of Dabirestan (high school - three years away from university) and Yusef in the third year of Rahnamaei (middle school - five years away from university).
Hossein is worried that they’ll find lessons too hard. Could they be placed in a lower class? Not recommended, the official advises. The school they should attend is designed to help them improve their Persian and settle into the educational system. And what direction would Athena follow?
At the age of fourteen students follow one of three ‘directions’: Maths and Physics, Life Sciences and Humanities and Literature.
I said that Athena is good at Humanities and Languages but is also very artistic. Hossein, who is very keen that she become an obstetrician, says that she still doesn’t know herself and that she is good at all subjects. The official asks to speak to the children to find out about their preferences and dislikes.
‘To be honest,’ Hossein says, ‘the children are not yet quite happy with the idea of moving to Tehran.’
‘In that case,’ the official says, ‘I will definitely have to see them, so I will hold on to their file until then. I am at your service,’ he says to signify the end of the session.
On the way out Hossein suggests we go to see the Tatbighi school counsellor. Middle-aged, with fair eyes and a kind smile, he advises us against the idea of getting the children in a lower age group. If Athena is placed in the first year of Dabirestan, she will have to work very hard at all the subjects plus on her Persian in order to go on the second year; if she fails this exam, she will have to repeat the year. If that happens, as many students he has helped in the past, she might blame us for bringing her from abroad and give up on her studies. However, because the second and the third year go together as a unit (much like the English GCSE courses in years 10 and 11), if Athena fails one subject, she can always retake it later without failing the whole year. She can also opt for intensive language work at the same time.
And what about her study ‘direction’? Since students at the Adaptive school by definition don’t know very good Persian (otherwise they wouldn’t be there), the school only offers the first two directions. That’s all very well for Yusef, who likes Maths and Physics and doesn’t need to choose direction yet anyway. But what about Athena, who is articulate and very good at languages?
She can always take intensive Persian during her year at the Adaptive and then go to a mainstream school where she can choose any direction she likes, the counsellor advises.
We leave with a rather heavy feeling: Hossein because he still thinks the children should join a lower age group, I because of the mountain ahead of us. And we still need to find a flat nearer the centre of Tehran.