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“In my heart, I am a teacher. I am always teaching children,” Essraa says vehemently. The first thing you notice about her is her vivacity, and passion, which is reflected in a laughing spirit, unlimited energy and warmth, which is even reflected on the screen. This dynamism is palpable when she tells us about her profession, that of teacher, a job she is not currently practicing. And for good reason, Essraa is on maternity leave. Moreover, we speak in a low voice, so as not to wake up the little one, who is almost six months old and sleeping. Night has long since fallen in Beirut, where the small family is visiting grandparents.
Dreams on pause
The other reason is Bill 21. Esraa graduated from preschool and school in 2019. “It's only when it's in the news that people talk about it. However, it's a problem all year round,” she says about it. The debate, which is very thorny, came back to the forefront during the last federal elections. Last December, Fatemeh Anvari, a teacher, was removed from her class because she wears a veil. At the beginning of the year, in the midst of the COVID-19 wave, the shortage of teachers rekindled the conversation. Essraa was almost at the finish line, completing her final internship when her future was changed. “I was trying to finish quickly, but they passed the law,” she recalls. It was too late. “It completely isolates you,” she says about Bill 21, which affects her greatly. “People whose careers are not affected continue to advance, to be promoted, to grow,” summarizes the young teacher. Starting her post-secondary studies, Essraa preferred physics — she also really enjoyed teaching it. Finding little affinity with this professional field, she changed branches to study visual arts, an activity that still occupies her today, from drawing to tattooing, which she practices in her spare time.
“It's the children who make sure I don't want to change jobs and who give me hope,” she says. “Bill 21 or not, it's not a very rewarding job,” she confides. Between her and the students, the tide goes by, even if sometimes, as with anyone, things are more difficult. “There are children who don't click with, and that's okay. The veil is not the obstacle between them and me; the veil is never a problem.” If children don't comment, the look and behavior of adults can hurt in schools. “Racism was a stress, even before the law. Even during my studies, before the law, there was racism. We exploit you, we infantilize you,” she says of the treatment given to her by some colleagues. And to hear it, she is not an isolated case. “I know people who don't dare to talk about it. The faculty is almost exclusively white,” she observes. Discrimination is also experienced outside of school. “In Quebec, racism has been made legitimate. It is considered an opinion, anyone can say it loud and clear,” says the young woman. She is sorry that those who used to feel uncomfortable in front of a veiled teacher have won their case. “Their opinion is now legitimate, politically correct.”
Another line of reasoning tires the teacher out. “I am tired of hearing people say: “It's the law, that's the way it is.” As if the word “law” means “moral”, “ethical”, “absolute truth”. There were very racist, segregationist laws,” notes the teacher. On several occasions, she was suggested to take off her veil to work. “Do you get rid of your beliefs before going back to work? When you teach, do you become a person who is not yourself?” she asks. And beware of those who believe that being veiled influences children. “With my veil, I am not proselytizing, I am not calling children to prayer at recess,” she says in a playful tone that almost obscures the seriousness of the subject. Essraa speaks out against everything that is imposed, including religion. “There are some for whom religion has a negative connotation, for whom it is synonymous with political war, colonization, exploitation, and trauma. But you have to understand that it's not the same experience for everyone.” What does she want to ask decision-makers? “If they have veiled friends, Muslim friends, if they meet any? Where is it just an image they see on TV, built from prejudices? Do they know us? ”
A forced new start
In a few days, Essraa will be heading home after a stay of several weeks with her family in Lebanon. Although she can't wait to go home, she doesn't know what awaits her there. “I admit that I am really lost. I have a thousand questions, there is nothing drawn in front of me,” says the young mother. She considers herself lucky to have had a child recently. “I am privileged to have been able to put my career in Stand by. If I were in career mode, I would be depressed,” says the teacher. The end of her maternity leave is approaching, and she must face her new reality. Essraa plans to reorient herself professionally and is considering jobs related to teaching. Language being another of her passions, she plans to teach French as a second language to adults and to do tutoring.
Another possible option is to continue elementary school in a neighbouring province. “Is it worth it to leave my whole life, all my family, my friends? This is my world. Going to Ontario is really sacrificing myself, she laments. It is really destabilizing to make all these changes.” One thing remains certain: she is not in danger of becoming a “voluntary parent”, an initiative launched by the Legault government to make up for the lack of school staff, exacerbated by COVID-19. “It's ridiculous. There are teachers who are competent, but who cannot teach. The shortage is such that we are ready to have parents, on a voluntary basis, to do daycare, so much we devalue our work! Collectively, what are we saying about the teaching profession? Can you replace a doctor like that because there is a shortage of doctors? ”
In the meantime, Essraa keeps her head clear by staying away from social networks. “I protect myself mentally,” says the one who was once active on social networks. Gone are the days of responding to comments and now she is focusing her energy elsewhere. “I don't want to be someone who just fights all day, every day. I am able to do other things in life.” She wants a more peaceful society for everyone, especially for people of color.
“People of color are constantly fighting for their rights, justifying themselves, doing double the work, while others are moving forward in life. I wish us a more peaceful world for our hearts, for our minds,” says the woman who, despite everything, refuses to be cynical. The conversation comes to an end with the baby crying for his mom. Essraa, on the other hand, keeps her smile bright. After all, as she says, she always prefers to laugh rather than cry.