A decade ago, many people couldn’t even point Pakistan out on a map let

alone tell you anything about the country. Things have surely changed. Pakistan is constantly scrutinized in the media for making peaceful agreements with the western world while apparently making a home for the Taliban under the table. But there’s a lot that the media misses.

This past winter break, I was half forced to visit my native country for the first time in seven years in order to attend my sister’s wedding. Most of our family still resided there and my sister wanted to celebrate with them. We moved to the States 12 years ago. After much pleading and begging, it turned out that my sister wouldn’t change the whereabouts of her wedding and all her wedding plans solely on my behalf. Big shocker there. 

Just in case you haven’t been keen on international news lately, Pakistan has been quite a hot spot for suicide bombings in the last few years. To put it bluntly, innocent people in Pakistan are losing their lives because the country’s military has been fighting against the Taliban. The terrorists have been sending a harsh message back by harming the public. To make the extent of these bombings a little more clear it is important to know that Pakistan had 28 suicide attacks in the first eight months of 2008 alone. This number even exceeds the number of suicide bombings occurring in Iraq or Afghanistan.

 So, I wasn’t too thrilled about going there. Nonetheless, I boarded a 17-hour flight to Pakistan. Upon arrival, I was expecting to go through heavy security. After all, this place did seem to be the hostile capital of the world. After passing through customs, I walked to the exit with my suitcase. What was their method of security? A policeman stopped every person walking out and picked up their suitcase to decide whether or not it contained explosives. I presume he must have had x-ray vision. I passed the test and walked out.  

There was excessive noise coming from the hundreds of people crowded outside. Frankly, it was scary. My brother, who had arrived there earlier in the week, spotted me and raced to my side. Pakistan isn’t like America. Women don’t walk alone in crowded areas. They would easily become victims of harassment.

 Another reason why a scene like this was so scary is because it’s a potential place for a bombing. Hundreds of people in a single place at Pakistan’s most popular airport equaled trouble. We left the airport as quickly as possible. I got in a car with my Uncle and we started driving to my Aunt’s house. 

Getting from point A to point B turned out to be a bigger hassle than I anticipated. Driving was more like a competitive car race than a form of transportation. The rules were there, they just weren’t followed. No staying in your own lane, no following the signs, and no abiding by the speed limit. No speed limitations might sound like a thrill but between trying to dodge pot holes to traveling on the most unpaved roads, it’s a miracle their tires don’t give out every day. Oh, and the way to tell a car to move is to tailgate excessively and toot your horn every chance you get.

 Every once in a while, we’d come across road blocks right in the middle of a street with army men patrolling them. They were basically in a zig-zag and their intent was to slow down drivers. Well, not drivers, bombers. 

Contrary to popular belief, I was not forced to cover my hair by wearing a hijab. I was able to walk around in jeans and a t-shirt. Mostly, I stuck to wearing shalwar kameez, traditional clothing for Pakistani women. I never felt like the odd one out even though I was surrounded by family members I hadn’t seen in years. I was constantly being introduced to new faces, hugged by aunts & uncles whose names I had long forgotten.

 However, the perception of who I had become always seemed to be there. I would catch it in an accusing look when I walked out in my tight jeans or if I spoke in English continuously rather than in Urdu.  In other words being American meant to them that I must have lost a great deal of my traditional values. Similarly, I believed that they would disapprove with the little bits of my life such as staying out late, baring my legs in public, and most definitely boys. 

Over the next week, I noticed some blatant differences in day-to-day life. Electricity was a big problem across Pakistan. The power would go out at various times of the day. We’d be sitting in the dark munching on our cold dinner. This was a new experience to me but to them, it was just another day. Water was a problem as well. Large buckets of water were kept in the bathroom and kitchen when the water wasn’t running, which was most of the time. This made showering an interesting challenge.

 Such everyday obstacles make Pakistan sound like it is lacking the resources to run as a functional country. However, that’s not what its residents believe. The resources are there, the government is just not allowing the people access to it. The bad economy is the result of corrupted government officials who use tax money for their own personal benefit. It’s why Pakistan’s middle class is basically nonexistent. 

It seemed like every time we turned on the news there was a new threat or bombing that had just occurred. I asked my relatives how hearing that their lives could be in serious danger at any second made them feel. The response would be preceded by a quick smirk. They couldn’t live their lives in fear.

 On our last day in the Pakistan, the entire family decided to go out to dinner together. By now, I was very homesick and ready to board the next plane home. As our food arrived, my cousin started a conversation with my parents about the future of the country. He’s 30, married, and two years ago moved to Australia on account of work. His basic thinking was that Pakistan wasn’t a reasonable place to live in; it shouldn’t even be a country anymore. He said that nothing could be done for the country and that people should move, like him, to places that would greater benefit their lives. 

Based on the tone of my writing, it’s easy to infer that I did not have the best view of Pakistan either. Sure, I spent the first six years of my life there but I had no real connection to the place. I was never old enough to make one. Nevertheless, such a comment from somebody who was being so cynical about the place where I was born was enough to spark some heated patriotism inside of me.

 I told him that Pakistan’s problem isn’t that it’s not capable of providing a good home for its citizens; its problem is that the future bright leaders of this country find it easier to make a home in foreign countries. How can we expect things to change and to better the nation if we only think about ourselves and our wellbeing? This country is filled with potential but corrupted by leaders who steal, lie, and cheat. It educates its children who grow up to realize that this isn’t a good enough place to make a living in. How can Pakistan ever expect to prosper if its citizens have already accepted defeat? 

That sure shut him up. But it opened my eyes. I came to Pakistan with the same sort of cynicism. Where was this country going? I had had no expectations for it. But then I wondered, how can a country be defeated if its citizens aren’t fearful? They live in sad circumstances but they don’t give up. One of my aunts was invited by her sons to come abroad so that she could have an easier life. She refused. I asked her why she didn’t accept his offer. She answered that this is her home, this is where she was born, and she’ll die either watching it flourish or defending its honor.

Let’s look at the facts—today’s schedule can be rough for anybody, whether it is the new student or the experienced senior. It’s confusing at times and obviously doesn’t work well come delay time. Mondays end up feeling awkward compared to the rest of the week. And it seems that the even periods get an unfair advantage over the odds—we see these periods on Monday, then again on Tuesday, when the information is still fresh in our minds. Come Wednesday, we can barely remember what we were learning in odd classes.

We, as a staff, believe that a 4×4 schedule would work better due to its less stressful flow and expanded time periods. It does have faults of its own, yes, as do the other two, but it also fixes some of the problems the other schedules propose. For example, lessons wouldn’t be crammed because of time shortage and days would be less stressful. There wouldn’t be as much confusion for new students. Delays wouldn’t be such a problem as they are now, with our current schedule.

While a 4×4 schedule fixes these minor problems that sprout from either of the 2 other scheduling options, it also has the potential to fix something the other 2 both fail to recognize: grades. By splitting major subjects between semesters, it makes it easier for a student to be successful with his or her grade in one subject without fretting for another. It also gives a student more time to accomplish a satisfactory grade in a subject they may have been uneasy about before.

In conclusion, we believe a 4×4 schedule is a more sensible choice. It reduces the stress of having a lot of major subjects at once and it can help improve grades. Also, it fixes some of the faults the other options have and replaces them with a more controlled, less confusing system.

When the bell rings for first lunch the first thing I think is where do I want to eat? The cafeteria or McDonalds? It takes less than 10 seconds to make my final decision. As I leave the school because I am a senior and it is a privilege to leave the school for lunch, I see underclassmen juniors, sophomores and also freshmen leaving for lunch. The first question that comes to mind is, “Aren’t seniors only allowed to leave?”
As a senior I do believe that open lunch is a privilege, and we are allowed to have privileges that others do not have, such as the senior parking lot, cutting in the lunch line, leaving for lunch and so on and so forth. As a senior, I put a lot of time in to making it and I am bothered when underclassmen abuse it because they want to go to lunch somewhere other than the cafeteria.

Underclassmen say that they would like to leave because they have earned the same privileges as seniors, but how have they earned senior privileges when they are not seniors? Seniors earned these privileges by being SENIORS! Seniors have spent three years eating in the cafeteria and following the rules, and now that we have the privileges to be trusted to eat out side of the school grounds and return back on time we abide by those rules.

Seniors state that that when they were underclassmen they would also skip with the seniors. They also stated that the seniors did not have a care in the world about if they did or didn’t. But what is the penalty for seniors to take underclassmen with them during lunch? What would happen to the senior privileges? Will they be banned or changed?

So to sum up everything that I have talked about we seniors love our privileges and we love that it is only us who are allowed to use them. To have something that someone else has to work a little bit longer to receive is an honor. When underclassmen became senior’s maybe they will understand a little bit more why I am trying to stress my point. For the privilege to be taken away would be heart breaking for senior’s, and also for underclassmen who will be senior’s someday. No more senior lunches? I think you can figure out the rest.