By the Author / Source: abuaram.site
I recall my early childhood at that Islamic school, where the Palestinian children bullied me severely and beat me constantly. I vividly remember those Palestinian Islamic teachers and the school principal who hated me—how they would lash me with a whip, strike my hands forcefully with a stick, and slap my face harshly.
It was a private Islamic school affiliated with Hamas. Because I was an orphan, it provided me with free education, alongside financial support and basic food supplies. My family also received periodic financial stipends. Donations arrived from all over the world to support Palestinian orphans, and individual sponsors backed me as well.
I received money during Islamic holidays, and occasionally, the school would take me shopping for clothes and school supplies. Everything at the school was free for me as an orphan.
Yet, the children at that school would snap at me, demonstrating aggressive and abnormal behavior for no apparent reason. I never caused them any trouble, yet I was repeatedly subjected to mob-like beatings by them.
Perhaps I was eccentric and isolated. I did not play with them, nor did I care about studying. I always sat alone, lost in thought within the inner worlds of my early childhood. I recall being an eccentric child from a very young age—not only at school, but with my family too. I would cry intensely whenever my mother left the house without me, and I was terrified of barbershops and having my picture taken.
I constantly avoided school and played truant. I only completed the sixth grade before dropping out permanently. Nevertheless, later during my teenage years, I managed to complete my high school education through a special program accredited by the Palestinian Ministry of Education. That remains the extent of my formal education, limited strictly to the secondary level.
I still do not understand why I was ostracized and abused by the teachers and the principal. They were all backward Palestinian Muslims, so why did they treat an innocent child like me in such a manner? Who gave them the right to treat any child this way? Violence against children should have been forbidden to them.
At the time, I was a child who was not religiously observant at all. I was not even capable of being a “Muslim child” in the accepted sense, as I did not believe in the Islamic teachings they were indoctrinating me with. I never prayed with them, had little desire to fast during Ramadan, cared nothing for my studies in general, and never adhered to my homework assignments.
I never liked the Islamic character of that school, nor its rigid system. I was entirely unwilling to become like them; I felt an alienation toward them, their customs, and their ideas. It was there that the groundwork was laid for me to become an atheist in the advanced stages of my childhood consciousness and adolescence—a phase where I firmly established my identity as an atheist. In much of my writing on atheism, I have often noted that I have been an atheist since childhood.
My childhood was not harsh only at school; it was brutal across all aspects of my life—on the streets and within my family. It was during this period that the core stages of my mental distress crystallized, manifesting its pathological side in my early teens and leading to total isolation from the world. Today, I suspect I may have been born a sick child, regardless of the cruel treatment I received growing up.
Yet, I was also a very intelligent child, with the capacity to be among the brightest. Had I possessed the desire to study, I would have demonstrated exceptional intellect. But it simply did not matter to me, and I felt no drive to engage academically.
At the age of 14, feeling guilty about neglecting my education and having very weak academic abilities, I created my own “school” out of books and the internet. From that day until now—as a 32-year-old—I have been continuously studying, learning, and expanding my cognitive skills. I left formal school without mastering English or Hebrew (the school only taught basic English, with no Hebrew classes at all), so I taught both to myself. I had already been reading and writing Arabic since the second or third grade.
I attribute all the negative experiences of my childhood—whether I was inherently a sick child or not—to this intellectually backward society that neglects its children, and to the absolute absence of legal oversight to rein in abusive teachers who inflict violence on minors. Even if I was a troubled or sick child, I deserved support, guidance, and care just like any other child, rather than being subjected to further harm that exacerbated my condition and rendered it chronic.
It is deeply unfortunate that some people fail to distinguish right from wrong, especially regarding how to treat children. Perhaps those adults are the ones who are truly sick—more so than any patient—and they certainly belong to a class of individuals who deserve neither to hold educational positions nor to be parents. It is imperative that laws addressing such behavior are strictly enforced and given greater priority. Furthermore, attention must be given to child bullies, guiding them to understand that their behavior is wrong and profoundly harmful to others.
