DIVERSITY
After retrieving our luggage, we walked through the Dubai airport, dripping with sweat from the exhaustive heat, toward the exit doors. Our noses were assaulted from air filled with unusual scents, turmeric, curry, cinnamon and a variety of other spices.
We, my husband Randy and I, exited the airport doors getting hit by a wave of even hotter air (not sure how that was possible?). We scanned the multi-cultural crowd looking for someone (had to be a man, since that’s the only people holding signs) holding a “Dr. Weber” placard. The mostly dark-skinned men were dressed in variety of costumes. The chatter of foreign languages was sprinkled with an occasional English that we understood.
Off to the right of the exit was a corral, white plastic fencing with a sign in Arabic indicating its’ purpose. Behind the fence were a group of modesty dressed women. I turned to Randy, asking him if he noticed the segregated women, held outside the actual airport in a make-shift waiting area. Then it dawned on me that the only women we saw inside the airport were passengers. This was just the first of many culture shocks we would experience over the next two weeks.
I was excited to be facilitating RIT’s Customer-centric master’s course. Each class built upon the prior course in a learner-centered design. The course I delivered with third in the sequence, meaning the students were familiar with each other. In the past five years, I had already successfully facilitated this course twice in the Dominican Republic and once in Rochester NY, so I was confident with my material and the course design. The program was competency-based, meaning that assessment of knowledge and learning happened through dialogue, aka class participation, as well as papers.
The first day of class, I entered the classroom to find all the male students on one side of the room, and all the females on the other side with a sea of open chairs in between them. The students varied in the dress, skin color, and demeanor.
The first day of the course happened to fall on tenth anniversary of 9-11. The September 11 attacks, where four coordinated terrorist suicide attacks by al-Qaeda against the United States in 2001. I thought it would be a good idea to mention the significance of the day, inviting the participants to somehow acknowledge it. What a mistake that was! This was the FIRST day of class. We had no relationship. No trust. No understanding of each other. In my naivety, I appeared arrogant and short-sighted. I quickly learned, by their angry response, that I knew very little, if anything, about their world and their relationship to events such as suicide bombers, war, attacks, etc.
I backtracked and sheepishly apologized. By acknowledging my mistake and appreciating their candor and honesty, we established a classroom culture that invited authenticity. As uncomfortable as it was, this American was just beginning to learn some of the complexities of the Middle East.
It’s happened in other classes; when the participants find out my “day job” is partnering with horses to help human development, they get curious about EAL. After a discussion about all the aspects co-creating a brief introduction to the work, with the stipulation that every student must agree, we determine the day, time, place, etc.
It’s hot. Hotter than hot. The air is so heavy, it’s difficult to breathe. No wind. My husband, Randy, and I are with one of my Master’s students, Abdul. He’s wearing a traditional Muslim white robe, an Emirati Kanduras. Abdul is an Emerati, or upper class which is indicated by his ghutrah, a red and white checkered woven scarf atop his head.
We’re at a farm in the middle of nowhere in Dubia. We met the farm manager, a tall slender European woman in her mid 30’s named Ellen. She introduced us to a young, skinny, dark-skinned man/boy named Mohammed. She tells us she won’t be here tomorrow when we bring the students out for an EAL introduction though she’ll make sure her staff is aware of our plans.
Ellen and her helper, Mohammed, seemed to understand that I would like three horses that got along well together, at liberty in a pasture. The only thing we’d be asking of them would be to able to put a halter on them, then possibly lead them around for a bit. If they had a grooming box or two that we could use that would helpful, I added. I shared with them that I wanted to keep any risks of someone getting injured super low. My goal was to create an opportunity for the students to witness how sensitive horses are to our behaviors, as well as the significance of the congruency of our actions and intentions. My plan was to incorporate the experience into our customer-centric curriculum, helping the participants realize the impact of their choices on any customer-related exchange. Ellen reassured me that she understood, so Abdul, Randy, and I left confident we were all on the same page.
After class the following day, we arrived at the farm ahead of the students. We did find three horses at liberty in a pasture, as we had discussed. The only problem was their heads were down munching on a huge pile of fresh green hay. It was dinner time. Ellen and I didn’t discuss anything about when they fed the horses. There was no way these horses were going to be interested in interacting with people when there was yummy hay available. Mohammed greeted us with a wide grin, indicating he had a cooler filled with cold water next to the two grooming boxes I requested.
Sweat running down my back, I wiped the drips from the side of my face, then asked him which of the horses would be the least upset if we asked him or her to leave the hay so we could lead them around the pasture. He said, the white Arabian, Farah, wouldn’t put up much of a fuss. So, I shifted my gameplan from a more interactive and collective activity, to a simple leading experience.
The students started arriving, gathering around the fence to watch the hay-eating horses. Following the horse safety talk, I answered their questions, then inquired as to whether they would all be comfortable going into the pasture with the horses.
Everyone said yes, so after signing release forms, Mohammad opened the gate. The students milled around the horses, who were still eating their dinner, ignoring the humans. I asked Mohammad to halter Farah, then invited the students and Farah, with Mohammad leading, over to the side of the pasture.
One by one each student took a turn leading Farah. Not surprisingly, the horse mirrored the behaviors of the students in our classroom. Nima was confident, always came to class prepared, usually a knowledgeable participant in any discussion. When it was her turn to lead, she squared her shoulders, looked forward to where she planned to go, and confidently led the horse.
Khalifa, on the other hand, was more introverted and timid. It took her longer to get Farah’s head off the hay pile. Once she decided she really did want the opportunity to lead the horse, her request was clear, and Farah took one last bite then moved forward.
Then it was Ali’s turn. Ali was a student who always had excuses as to why he didn’t have time to complete an assignment. He came to class unprepared, except with an excuse as to which family member needed him instead of getting his homework done. During discussions, he’d try to buffalo his way through, though it was clear he was just sharing his opinion, not referencing the required material.
He walked up to Farah, who was back enjoying her dinner. He tried half-heartedly to get her to lift her head. She kept eating. After several pulls on the lead rope, he looked out at his classmates and declared that maybe the horse was tired, or bored, and didn’t want to walk around anymore. The students started looking at each other, making the connections between his classroom behavior and what we just witnessed. Ali didn’t possess the self-awareness to recognize what was happening. He just handed me the lead, shrugged his shoulders, then walked back to the group.
It was starting to get dark, so I suggested we thank our horse partners, then circle up, grab some cold water, and finish our time together with some reflection. Once everyone sat down, I began with “What struck you?”
The participants shared that they were surprised at how differently the same horse reacted to each person, based on the way the person behaved. That the horse really responded to their present situation. This led to a rich discussion relating back to customers, acknowledging our role in any customer exchange.
While the diversity of our cultures, experiences, language, clothing, etc. impacts certain situations more than others. We can trust that the language of Equus is universal.
Recall a time when you assumed another would respond in you would in a certain situation and because of their difference worldview they did not.
What can you do in your current life to begin to be open to difference.
What kind of diversity do you wish you had more of in the future?