*All

of these stories/accounts came from the Humans of New York Facebook page
Unit: A Thousand Splendid Suns Date: February 2016
Lesson: Modern Day Refugee Crisis Time Length: 45 minutes

Academic Standard(s):
CC.1.4.1112.C Develop and analyze the topic thoroughly by selecting the most
significant and relevant facts, extended definitions, concrete details, quotations, or
other information and examples appropriate to the audiences knowledge of the
topic; include graphics and multimedia when useful to aiding comprehension

Objectives/Essential Question(s):
1. Students will be able to compare and relate the lives of actual refugees to the
lives of the refugees in ATSS.
2. What does it mean to be a refugee?

Materials Needed:

Copies of A Thousand Splendid Suns

Projector

Internet

Possibly handouts with refugee stories

OR

Power point with the refugee stories on it and discussion questions after
each one

Paper to take notes

Motivational Device/Bell Ringer:
Journal: take about 3-5 minutes

Imagine that your home is being attacked and you must flee for your own
safety. What objects would you take with you? What would you miss most
about your home? How do you think you would feel in this situation?

Lesson Outline:

The lesson will start with a bell ringer to get the students to think about life
as a refugee. (about 3-5 minutes)

*All of these stories/accounts came from the Humans of New York Facebook page

Then after that, students will share out what they have written. (about 5-7
minutes)

After this we will look at the section of ATSS that talks about the experience
of the Afghan refugees. (about 10-15 minutes)
o CFU make sure that the students understand the directions and know
what we are talking about4
o We will then look at refugee stories from our modern time. (10-15
minutes)
o These stories are all taken from the Humans of New York web and
Facebook page.

I think it is important for the students to read stories about current refugees
to get a picture of what these people really go through and what they look
like.

Often times we read about these types of disasters, but we do not really make
a connection to the struggles of these people.

Challenging Questions for Higher Order Thinking:
1. What is the most impactful thing that you learned from reading first hand
stories of refugees?
2. Why are people in other countries (the ones not experiencing these
hardships) so hesitant to accept refugees?
3. What sort of cultural enhancement can refugees bring to a country?

Closure:
Whole class discussion about something they found interesting about these
refugees. It could be something that they have in common, something the students
would never have thought of before, or any other relevant comments

Any Additional Notes:

*All of these stories/accounts came from the Humans of New York Facebook page
Reflection:
The students had a really nice discussion to end the period. I think the stories and
pictures really brought home the idea that this isnt something that just happens in
books. I was really happy with the thoughtfulness and remarks made by the
students.

*All of these stories/accounts came from the Humans of New York Facebook page
Refugee Stories:

I was fourteen when I arrived in Syria. Those were the best two years of my life.
The first day we arrived, I made my father take me to school so I could register. I
was doing so well in school. I got very good grades. I got so many awards and my
teachers kept telling me that I had a very bright future. They told me: One day Aya,
you will be the voice of refugees. On the weekend I was volunteering to help other
refugees. I organized an entire chorus of refugees. Things were going so well. My
father was working as a driver. We were very comfortable. Then war came to Syria.
It began for me as a bomb threat at our school. Then people began killing each other
in the street. I was studying one afternoon, and I looked out the window, and a man
smashed another mans head with a stone. Right in front of me. Our landlord told us:
I am leaving the country. Everyone must go. So again we became refugees. We put
everything we had into six bags, and we left.

My years in Turkey have been the hardest four years of my life. When we first
arrived from Syria, we couldnt communicate with anyone. I had no friends. If we
wanted an egg from the store, we had to make chicken sounds. I paid for everything
in this apartment by working as an interpreter for an NGO. We started at a zero and
I built us up to a six, all by myself, and Im very proud of that. But we can go no
further without citizenship. I cant get a degree. I cant work any other job. Turkey
has taken many refugees and we should be thankful for that. And the people here
were nice to us at first. Our neighbors brought us rice and food. But then more
refugees came. And more. And then everything changed. Now people shout at us in
the streets. They tell us to leave. But we have nowhere to go. A man recently started
sending me messages on Facebook, saying: Get out! I didnt even know him! Why
me? Why did he choose me? Weve had to switch apartments four times because our
landlord decided that Arabic people are no longer allowed. Ive been hit by a car. My
sister got hit in the face at school and lost two teeth, and now her vision is bad in
one eye. Being a refugee is really hard. They blame us for everything. They blame us
for no jobs. For crowded streets. For crime. They say that we are the reason for
everything bad. And if war ever comes to Turkey, well be the first to die. Because
theyll blame us for that too.


Sometimes I sit by myself and I blame myself for leaving Syria. I used to own my
own business. Now Im working as an employee in a dairy shop. I have nothing here.
When I feel nostalgic about Syria, I remember the smell of jasmine in my back
garden. I remember my four best friends. We were always laughing and joking
together. On Friday mornings during the summer, wed wake up early to drive to the

*All of these stories/accounts came from the Humans of New York Facebook page
lake and swim. In the winter wed play cards and smoke the water pipe. But I have
to remind myself that Syria isnt there anymore. Our old town doesnt even have any
food. A bag of salt costs $50 now. And all my friends are gone. One of them is in
Egypt, one is in Turkey, one is in Lebanon, and the other was killed by a
sniper.(Amman, Jordan)

I was overseeing a project outside the city when the missile hit my house. Nobody
was around to help, so my son had to carry the pieces of his mother and sister out of
the house. He was fourteen at the time. He was so smart. He was the top of his class.
Hes not the same. Right after it happened, hed write mom in his notebook over
and over. Hed cry all night long. Two years have passed but hes still sufferent very
much. Its very hard for him to focus. He gets tired very easily. My daughter was in
the house too. She still has shrapnel in her neck. We survived but were dead
psychologically. Everything ended for us that day. That was our destiny. That was
our share in life.

Because Im a refugee, my life is on pause. My studies have stopped. Im not
working. I dont have a career. Because Im Syrian, Im not allowed to participate in
society. Its been years of doing nothing. I used to be a cheerful person. I was always
invited to parties. Now I like to be alone. Ive become more nervous and aggressive. I
yell over silly things. I just want to start my life again. I learned last Thursday that
Im going to a state called North Carolina. Im very nervous. I know nothing about it.
More than anything, I want to finish my education. But mostly I hope that whatever
is waiting for me there is better than what Ive gone through. (Amman, Jordan)


I was an only child, but I had eleven children. I built a whole family. Every Friday Id
cook for them at my house. Id spend the whole day in my kitchen, and all the
grandchildren would come over, and the house would be filled with noise. The word
family is a painful word for me now. The war scattered my children all over the
world. They are in Syria, Lebanon, Germany, and Jordan. I love all my children, but
this one here is my soul. Hes always taken care of me. Hes even raised his children
to take care of me. His daughters are always asking if I need anything just like their
father. Tomorrow hes leaving for a place called Memphis, Tennessee. I dont know
what I will do without him. I hope they will let me come to Memphis too. Can you tell
us anything about Memphis? Are there nice people there? I heard that it is a city of
music. I love music.(Amman, Jordan)

I was studying Literature and French Philosophy when the war came. I wanted to
be an Arabic teacher. I didnt want to be a soldier. I didnt want to kill anyone. I had

*All of these stories/accounts came from the Humans of New York Facebook page
no interest in religion or politics. But all the young men were being forced to join the
army, so when it came time to renew my papers, I ran. I only packed a small
suitcase. I was planning to stay in Jordan for maybe a month until things calmed
down. But when a month passed and the war hadnt ended, I thought: Maybe two
months. Then: Maybe three months. But after three months my mother told me
that our house had been destroyed. She sent me a picture on the phone. Everything
was rubble. There was nothing to go back to. But I had nothing in Jordan. Id run out
of money. I didnt know anyone. I was homeless. I felt so alone that I wanted to kill
myself. Then one day I tried to call a friends phone but a strange voice
answered.(Amman, Jordan)

The extent to which refugee children have been conditioned by their environment
is heartbreaking. We wanted permission to take this young girls photograph, so we
asked if her mother was nearby. Her eyes filled with the most uncontrollable fear
that Ive ever seen in a child. Why do you want my mother? she asked. Later, her
parents told us how the family had crouched in the woods while soldiers ransacked
their house in Syria. More recently theyd been chased through the woods by
Turkish police. After wed spent a few minutes talking with her parents, she
returned to being a child and could not stop hugging us, and laughing, and saying I
love you so much. But I went to sleep that night remembering the terror on her face
when we first asked to speak to her mother.

Before leaving for Europe, I went back to Syria to see my family once more. I slept in
my uncles barn the entire time I was there, because every day the police were
knocking on my fathers door. Eventually my father told me: if you stay any longer
they will find you and they will kill you. So I contacted a smuggler and made my way
to Istanbul. I was just about to leave for Europe when I received a call from my
sister. She told me that my father had been very badly beaten by police, and unless I
sent 5,000 Euro for an operation, he would die. That was my money to get to
Europe. But what could I do? I had no choice. Then two weeks later she called with
even worse news. My brother had been killed by ISIS while he was working in an oil
field. They found our address on his ID card, and they sent his head to our house
with a message. Kurdish people arent Muslims. My youngest sister found my
brothers head. This was one year ago. She has not spoken a single word since.
(Kos, Greece)


The island we landed on was called Samothrace. We were so thankful to be there.
We thought wed reached safety. We began to walk toward the police station to
register as refugees. We even asked a man on the side of the road to call the police

*All of these stories/accounts came from the Humans of New York Facebook page
for us. I told the other refugees to let me speak for them, since I spoke English.
Suddenly two police jeeps came speeding towards us and slammed on the brakes.
They acted like we were murderers and theyd been searching for us. They pointed
guns at us and screamed: Hands up! I told them: Please, we just escaped the war,
we are not criminals! They said: Shut up, Malaka! I will never forget this word:
Malaka, Malaka, Malaka. It was all they called us. They threw us into prison. Our
clothes were wet and we could not stop shivering. We could not sleep. I can still feel
this cold in my bones. For three days we had no food or water. I told the police: We
dont need food, but please give us water. I begged the commander to let us drink.
Again, he said: Shut up, Malaka! I will remember this mans face for the rest of my
life. He had a gap in his teeth so he spit on us when he spoke. He chose to watch
seven people suffer from thirst for three days while they begged him for water. We
were saved when they finally put us on a boat and sent us to a camp on the
mainland. For twelve days we stayed there before walking north. We walked for
three weeks. I ate nothing but leaves. Like an animal. We drank from dirty rivers. My
legs grew so swollen that I had to take off my shoes. When we reached the border,
an Albanian policeman found us and asked if we were refugees. When we told him
yes, he said that he would help us. He told us to hide in the woods until nightfall.
I did not trust this man, but I was too tired to run. When night came, he loaded us all
into his car. Then he drove us to his house and let us stay there for one week. He
bought us new clothes. He fed us every night. He told me: Do not be ashamed. I have
also lived through a war. You are now my family and this is your house too. (Kos,
Greece).