My teacher discouraged me – Speech

I graduated with grade 3 in Norwegian, but still achieved my dream of becoming a journalist. So dear student. You who dream of becoming a photographer, journalist or fashion designer, but do not have good enough grades to enter the right field of study or higher education. There is hope. My name is Noman and I have worked all my adult life as a journalist. Already from the age of 10 I was determined to write. I don’t know why. I loved reading newspapers, watching Dagsrevyen and writing little stories in my diary. I had a thirst for knowledge and read about British kings, American politics, the Ottoman Empire and the Mughal emperors of India. I felt for the weak in society and wanted to tell the stories of all those we rarely read about in the newspapers. The immigrants, the drug addicts, the refugees and the victims of bullying. Norwegian was my favorite subject at secondary school and my teacher loved my styles. “You are so imaginative,” said my teacher. “I’m going to be a journalist,” I answered. But something changed in high school. My Norwegian grades fell. Often I ended up at 3. I could feel the frustration rising. How was I supposed to become a journalist with such poor grades? I worked hard and purposefully, but felt that the teacher never understood me. It was like talking to a wall. He knew very well that I wanted to become a journalist. It was a different time, I must admit, but today there are also far too many students who are not followed up in the school system, and who drop out. They also have ambitions and dreams. The weeks and months passed in high school. At the time, I was working as a newsboy for Romerikes Blad. Every afternoon I tore off the plastic from the stack of newspapers and inhaled the smell of fresh printing ink. I then read the headlines and dreamily said to myself: Noman, one day you will work in Romerikes Blad. I was rejected from the journalism college and went into mourning. While other Norwegian Pakistanis were pressured or persuaded to become doctors, lawyers and engineers, I was still determined to write for a newspaper. Mum and Dad supported me. After half a year in despair, a bit of luck and good timing, I was allowed to try my hand as a freelancer in Romerikes Blad. Now I was no longer dreaming. I was no longer a newsboy, but wrote for the same newspaper. I worked like a horse. Morning and evening. Suggested articles and stories that stood out. At the same time, I had to agree to all the little things the other journalists didn’t want to do. The corps in Nittedal turns 50. Monica found the first white road of the year in Lørenskog. Borgny turns 99. I said yes to everything. Worked both on Christmas Eve and Easter. Romerikes Blad became my school. I learned while I worked. My wonderful colleagues taught me all the tricks in the journalist’s book. They didn’t care that I hadn’t studied. They saw a talent, an energy, a curiosity and a drive. I was 19 years old and dreamed of Akersgata. Dear student, don’t give up. I made the jump. From newsboy to newspaper journalist. You have probably heard of the man who started cleaning the toilets in a warehouse and a few years later bought the whole building. I often thought of my Norwegian teacher when my cases were in print. If he read my reports, who had written them and what was he thinking? Did he still think I deserved a 3 in Norwegian? Later he went to Dagbladet and studied journalism in England. Then it was 27 years at news. I quickly ended up on the screen. Became a news anchor. The very first with a foreign background in Norway. Chronicle writer Noman Mubashir as presenter of news Østlandssendingen around the year 2000. Photo: news I was very proud. While reading the news, I often thought of my teacher. Does he recognize me? After all, it’s only been 6 years since I left high school and I haven’t changed that much. I was the only student in the class with a Pakistani background as well. I never heard from him. The intention is not to blame my old Norwegian teacher. He had many good sides, both as a person and a teacher. He inspired us to write poems and creative texts. It is the school system that I want to challenge. Why should your grades in science and math count so much when you want to pursue a career as a designer or actor? Is it not possible to become a skilled photographer even if you didn’t pass all subjects at high school? Today’s school does not suit all students. They struggle every single day and become more and more frustrated. Many cannot cope with the pressure and expectations. Especially boys. Two years ago I visited Ulsrud upper secondary school in Oslo and told about my journalistic dream. They didn’t seem very interested. What appeal did I have? A grown man in a suit. But when I started to tell about my youth as a newspaper delivery boy and my bad Norwegian grades, the whole class woke up. They became completely silent. Their eyes sparkled. They nodded and recognized each other. “It has never been so quiet here in class,” one of the teachers said to me after the lecture. “You hit a nerve.” So dear student. Stand on. Always. I never stopped dreaming. Despite the fact that I got a 3 in Norwegian and never entered the journalism college, I became a journalist anyway. So even if you didn’t get into the study of your dreams this autumn: Don’t let go of your dreams! Published 12.08.2024, at 12.32 p.m



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