research at Royal Holloway College, as my salary did not come from public money. I applied to a few schools in South London as a matter of preference. They liked me but were reluctant to go through the hassle of applying to the Home Office for my work permit. Eventually, a school in Haringey's Broadwater Farm, The Langham School (which had a fairly negative image due to the civil disturbances between youths and police in the mid-1980s), offered me a job and the head teacher agreed to apply for my work permit. I had to remain unemployed and survive on the little we had saved for a few months. Eventually, the permit came through and I started as a science teacher; we soon became permanent residents and within a few years Sayeda and I had also become naturalized British citizens.
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The Langham School on West Green Road in Haringey (today Park View School), was a mixed comprehensive which had a wide intake of students from many ethnicities and faiths. The catchment area was one of the most ethnically mixed and socio-economically deprived in London. Within a few weeks, I realized that many children of Turkish and Kurdish origin had English as their second language. I was determined to make an impact on my students by giving my best to their education. But, as expected, behaviour was an issue. I was aware that the area was tough and class discipline would be a major issue, which meant I would have to concentrate more on managing my classes than simply teaching. I would have to be tough but flexible at the same time. It was a test for me; I could not afford to give in to deliberate attempts by some children to disrupt my class and establishing a tough but fair image was vital. I realized that in our science department we had a few successful strong-willed teachers who appeared to fit into that category. I followed them and talked with them to gain some practical tips. They would not tolerate indiscipline in the corridors as well as the classroom – using techniques of remaining calm through tough love.
I decided to attend a few day-courses on assertive discipline and techniques of classroom management with mixed ability and often difficult children. One of my techniques was to build individual relationships with the students, especially those who would easily engage in low-level disruption, and empathize with them by getting to know their backgrounds; having a personal touch was always effective. I knew about a highly successful college principal in my home district in Bangladesh who had memorized all of his students' names. It would not be difficult for me to memorize the names of a couple of hundred students – so I thought! I developed a student-centred approach and established clear expectations from each of them. Difficult children are often creative, they develop mental images of their teachers as to whether they are soft or tough and consistent; they take advantage by testing a teacher's ability to handle difficult situations. Students become less disruptive if they are more engaged in their learning, with age-appropriate differentiated materials. Empathetic teachers can relate to students in a mutually and informally agreed understanding; when teachers show the way, students respond positively. I also learned some key words in the first languages of several students to make them feel valued. I felt I needed not only to survive but to succeed and make an impact as a teacher.
To me, teaching has always been a noble profession. Prophets, sages and philosophers are essentially teachers of humanity. Our beloved Prophet said: 'Verily, I have been sent as a teacher' (Ibn Majah). In most cultures, respect for teachers is next to one's parents. Through teaching we also keep on learning and sharing our experiences with others. I was blessed with a number of successful teachers in my primary and secondary school life that helped shape my future. One of my secondary teachers impressed me so much that by trying to emulate him in reading, I became a bookworm. Sayeda's family was also blessed with a number of teachers. I decided to invest in young people, the most dynamic and creative section of human progeny. My aim was not just to help them with their subject education but also to give them the values of life that would allow them to become a force for good in society.
According to Islam's holy book, the Qur'an, human beings are created with the dual ability to do good and bad. It is their environment that affects someone's behaviour. With this principle in the back of my mind, I tried to build a positive relationship with each individual student, concentrating on behaviour management techniques and attempting to reach out to difficult students. Classroom teaching was indeed exhausting. Even with plenty of energy, one has to have good rest and leisure time to recuperate and prepare for the next day's teaching. But rest was not easily available to me, my commitment with the newly-formed professional community of the IFE, as well as voluntary work in Tower Hamlets, was also demanding. However, the feeling that I was given the opportunity in life to help shape others' futures was a satisfaction that drove me.
I continued as a Science teacher until the end of 1996. During this period I became more involved with the Special Educational Needs (SEN) of some students in the school and I set out to learn more about this work. Whenever I encountered a SEN child in my class or corridor, or in the playground, my instinct was to help by trying to understand from the child's perspective. I asked myself what would I do if I was that child and how would I expect my teacher to deal with me. Or, how would I have behaved if, say, one of my own children needed SEN support. I felt strongly that my response as a teacher mattered in dealing with a difficult situation. There were a few tangible successes in the way I handled some students with behavioural difficulties, and some of my departmental colleagues also sought my help when they struggled with aggressive behaviour from some students. I started giving some extra time with the SEN department on occasions and offered my help when I had free time.
Being away from university-level physics for a few years, and having some practical experience in classroom teaching – which was getting more tiresome – I thought of moving further into the world of SEN. Special Educational Needs teaching deals with smaller numbers of children, focusing on individual challenges and opportunities. It would need extra patience and empathy to deal with an emotionally vulnerable young person with learning and other difficulties. I felt I had some strength in dealing with such young people, and my skills would be better used in that special area of educational support. I thought about moving to a job in south London, where I lived, or east London, where my community work lay (and I was becoming increasingly busy).
An opportunity arose from the Tower Hamlets Education Authority, and after a series of interviews I was offered a job in its well-resourced and well-known Support for Learning Service (SLS). Beyond teaching, I was also expanding my involvement within the community – not only to Muslims nationwide, but also in the world of interfaith bridging. The East London Mosque was beginning to attract all sorts of people, not only from the East End of London but from all parts of the city – and beyond. It brought me into contact with various groups across the country, including some well-known multi-faith and interfaith bodies.
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At the beginning of 1994, a new phase was opening in my life. When some relatively young community leaders and professionals started discussing the creation of a new national umbrella body, I joined them in earnest. After over three years of consistent work, in 1997 the Muslim Council of Britain (MCB) was born, later to become Britain's largest and most diverse Muslim umbrella body. Its purpose was to help shape the future of British Muslims, meeting and raising the hopes and aspirations of this burgeoning community. The MCB and my involvement with the organization will be discussed more fully in a later chapter.
One day, in the mid-1990s, a well-dressed white man of my age came to visit the mosque to discuss a project he was planning to start in east London. A few of us in the ELM gathered around him curiously: 'Does he have any agenda?' some wondered. He introduced himself as Neil Jameson, and spoke about community organizing by citizens working together to improve life in our neighbourhood communities. We knew little about his background, but he appeared approachable and his smile and body language suggested a gentle, visionary and determined man.
Neil was brimming with ideas and passion as he expanded his vision of using community organizing as a vehicle for social and even political change for good, ideas which immediately chimed with me. It reminded me of the basic Islamic teachings of social justice, i.e., working for the common good of all in society, a crucial civic responsibility for any
