I can see why you’re frustrated, Joby. It’s a readable piece with a strong hook.
I should think that
if anyone read it through, length would not be a problem; if the reader is preoccupied with space,
the length might matter. I think
post-Persian-Gulf-War and Hassan’s histo
ry are important to the
story, but that might be reduced some.
Unfortunately I also feel that probably should use more space to explain the green card
assume that Hassan
’s multilingual ability is why he remained hired by DLI. I had an Iranian
student who could speak Farsi/Persian and some Arabic and French
and the DLI wouldn’t even
give her a look.
She’s a permanent resident and has a green card, but they told she needn’t
bother until she could show them her naturalization papers.
I’m going to think a bit about where — beyond those places you
’ve already tried — you might
I also edited this with present tense in mind. I may have missed some “saids.” I would make one
voice consistent, and my preference would b
e past tense. I probably also have missed some AP
stuff, but that’s what I fixed for.
If you wish, you can call it done. Your grade will be A. thanks. Hope to meet you some day. Mack
In the Discussions board,
if you had any thoughts about Kim Vo
’s stories on the priest or Marilyn
Johnson’s book or Jim Nicholson’s stuff, I’m sure they would appreciate any comments.
Ihab Hassan is living in uncertainty. Six years after taking asylum in the United States, the Iraqi
political refugee is troubled by one question.
"What must I do to be considered a good person in America?" he asks. The question sounds
rhetorical, but Hassan is waiting for an answer. "I have done all I can to be an American, all the
things Americans do. I work, I pay taxes, I learned English, I educated myself, I wish to start a
family someday. But still the government is telling me that I cannot be trusted."
Hassan, 34, is an Arabic instructor at the Defense Language Institute in Monterey, where he
plays a direct role in preparing troops to wage war in his homeland. But the government which
Hassan serves has yet to fully accept him. His repeated attempts at gaining permanent
residency have gone unfulfilled by U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services. Without a "green
card" establishing permanent residency, Hassan cannot become a naturalized citizen,
and is still
vulnerable to having his refugee status revoked.
"It is worse than being made to feel like I am not an American," he says. "It's like being made to
feel not human. If I am given citizenship, then I will feel that the people in the U.S. government
understand the things I have been through.
... I came to America with a story of real struggling,
with real tragedy, but also with real love and shrewd respect."
Ihab Hassan was a senior in high school when Saddam Hussein sent more than 100,000 Iraqi
soldiers spilling across the border into Kuwait during the summer of 1991. Seven months later, a