Essay from Shoxijaxon Urunov

Pedagogy: A Higher Profession

Professor Amelia Bellwether straightened her spectacles and adjusted the microphone clipped to her tweed jacket. A nervous flutter ran through the lecture hall as two hundred pairs of eyes turned towards her. Today was no ordinary lecture; today, Professor Bellwether was delivering the opening address for ‘Pedagogy: A Higher Profession,’ a groundbreaking seminar series aimed at elevating the field of teaching.

Amelia, a veteran educator with eyes that twinkled with the wisdom of countless shared stories and a heart brimming with passion for her craft, believed with every fiber of her being that teaching wasn’t just a profession, but a calling. A calling higher than any other, for it shaped the minds that would shape the future.

‘Why ‘Pedagogy: A Higher Profession’?’ she began, her voice resonating through the hall. ‘Because within this room, within each one of you, lies the power to ignite young minds, to spark revolutions both personal and global.’

The audience, a diverse mix of seasoned teachers, aspiring educators, and skeptical academics, leaned forward in their seats.

Amelia shared anecdotes, tales woven from her years on the frontlines of education. A shy student finding his voice through the power of poetry, a struggling single mother excelling in her studies to build a better life for her child, a classroom debate sparking a lifelong passion for social justice.

‘We are not mere transmitters of information,’ she declared, her voice rising with conviction. ‘We are architects of understanding, weavers of dreams, cultivators of compassionate and critical thinkers.’

The room, initially abuzz with hesitant whispers, fell silent, absorbing her words. Amelia could see the spark ignite in their eyes, the same spark that had drawn her to teaching all those years ago.

The seminar series that followed was electric. Workshops explored innovative teaching methods, lectures challenged traditional notions of curriculum, and passionate debates raged late into the night. Amelia, a guiding light throughout, witnessed the transformation firsthand.

The skeptical academic discovered a love for mentoring young minds. The seasoned teacher, grappling with burnout, rekindled his passion. The aspiring educator, initially daunted by the responsibility, embraced the challenge with newfound zeal.

As the final session drew to a close, a sense of bittersweet accomplishment filled the air. Professor Bellwether, her heart full, looked out at the faces before her, no longer just attendees, but fellow torchbearers.

‘Go forth,’ she urged, her voice thick with emotion, ‘and illuminate the world, one young mind at a time. Remember, you are not just teachers, you are the architects of a brighter future.’

And with those words, the “Pedagogy: A Higher Profession” seminar drew to a close, leaving behind a legacy of empowered educators, ready to reshape the world, one lesson, one student, one dream at a time.

Central Asian young man standing in front of a wooden wall and a blue, white, and red flag. He's clean cut and in a suit and tie.

Shokhijakhon Urunov

Student of Bukhara State Pedagogical Institute

Achievements:

– Recipient of the Bobur State Scholarship for the 2023-2024 academic year;

– Winner of the “Student of the Year 2022” competition in the regional stage;

– Awarded 1st place with an iPhone 13 Pro Max in the “31st Anniversary of Our Independence” competition organized by the Republic’s Cultural and Knowledge Center under the decree PQ-340-SON dated August 1, 2022, by the President;

– Winner of a competition organized in honor of the 31st anniversary of the national flag of the Republic of Uzbekistan by the Republic’s Cultural and Knowledge Center;

– 2nd place winner in a national competition dedicated to the 85th anniversary of Islam Karimov by the Islam Karimov Foundation;

– 3rd place in the 1st season and “Most Active Promoter” nominee in the 2nd season of the national competition “Young Readers” organized by the Center for Increasing Social Activity of Students and Pupils;

– Winner of the “History of Bukhara” competition organized by the Bukhara Regional Tourism and Sports Department;

– Head Coordinator at the Volunteer Center of Bukhara State Pedagogical Institute;

– Chief of “Towards Leadership ” project;

– Author of over 30 scholarly articles;

– Author of two methodical guide on history;

– Author and organizer of seven literary anthologies;

– Member and volunteer of over 10 international and local organizations.


Poetry from Azimbayeva Dilrabo

Daddy, I miss you, I miss you

He fills the fireplace without stopping because of his family.

I can’t stop being a child, I don’t know.

My dear father, my heaven is mine.

Daddy, I miss you, I miss you.

My mother burned her hands when she baked bread.

We were arguing by the side of the oven.

We all walked together, feeling his love.

Daddy, I miss you, I miss you.

His hands are full of hard work.

White in his restless hair.

I look at the picture and miss every moment.

Daddy, I miss you, I miss you

Poetry from Jasmina Makhmasalayeva

Central Asian woman with short brown hair in a bun, brown eyes, and a green top with ruffles.

Fatherland

Fatherland has, you have

Hey folk, hey life.

Without it, you are dead

Hey humankind.

There are your parents also

Is that true babe?

Homeland is here, mother is here

In addition your father.

Hence, you appear!

Makhmasalayeva Jasmina Makhmashukurovna was born on August 24,2008 in the Mubarek district of the Kashkadarya region of the Republic of Uzbekistan. Now she is studying at 28th school in Mubarek. She is creative, knowledgeable and faithful by nature. Until now she participated in several international competitions and anthologies. Holder of Multilevel B2 which is National English Language Testing System .She has many achievements. This is like a drop from the sea…

Poetry from Anvarova Nilufar

Leafy green tree and concrete path and a Central Asian teen girl in a floral pink and blue and white patterned dress with a black backpack.
I'm leaving...

I'm leaving...
The end of my path is not in sight
A beautiful end of life.
Cheats discover lies
Let there be evil in the heart.

I'm leaving...
It's supposed to be in the grand corridor 
They put a shoe on my leg.
When I look back, my past
Sins will remain.

I'm leaving...
Stopping is a stranger to me,
And or no one is a friend.
Pains, sufferings please,
Leave it alone, leave it alone, that's it.

I'm leaving...
It's like in a grand corridor...


Anvarova Nilufar, a student of the 7th grade of the creative school named after Erkin Vahidov, Margilan city.

Poetry from O’tkir Mulikboyev

Central Asian teen boy standing in front of a wall of drawings, mostly of nature and waterfalls and Islamic style buildings. He's got short brown hair, brown eyes, and wears a tan sweater and collared white shirt.

WE EXIST IN LIFE

Let the blood in our bodies be green,

Let this space turn green.

If I merge into the roots,

No bird can be without a place.

If I become the eyes of the springs,

I would flow clear and healing.

I would take the pain of the sick,

I would bring joy to the heart.

Then I would grow as a plant,

Evil would not spill ink.

Good feelings would surround the world,

Knowing, it would not sin.

If I become the most precious ore,

I would pour out for them to pick up.

The one who eliminates the feeling of hunger,

I would awaken the feeling of gratitude by melting.

If I fly like a bird with wings,

I would lead towards dreams.

Striving is the foundation of faith,

I would throw away sorrow in my flight.

The sea would be full of waves,

If I become a snowy mountain.

I would roll all the noises,

If I become a river in the streams.

If I become a word, I would ring,

The song of peace, every breath.

The world would be wide without wars,

The desire born to want happiness.

Everyone has feelings, embodied,

We exist in the name of human.

If everyone follows goodness,

We are pure beings like springs.

Let the blood in our bodies be green,

Let this space turn green.

O’tkir Mulikboyev is a teacher at School No. 75, Qoshrabot District, Samarkand Region, Uzbekistan.

Poetry from Muslima Murodova

Young Central Asian woman with dark hair in a bun, brown eyes, small earrings, and a white collared shirt and black ruffled vest.
A plea

Beloved like my mother
God gave you to me
I live as your child
I give my life to you, my country.

Let me lean on you, my wing
I will say it will not pass
I am sorry for the ingratitude
I give my life to you, my country

Don't be offended by me
If you are sad, I will be the one
Do not be humiliated in the hands of Yav
My life is devoted to you, my country

My sister, brother, don't shed tears
I will never leave you
May the sun not leave your head
My life is devoted to you, my country.


Running to your service
Be the only one for you
Pulling out my heart
Homeland, I give my life to you.

I will finish it before I die
Yozai senchun epic cry
My eyes are a charm for you
My life is devoted to you, my country.

The throne of other countries is not needed
It's okay if I'm in your arms
A heart that does not love you is heartless
My life is devoted to you, my country.



Member of the "Yosh kalamkashlar" club of the Barkamol Avlod children's school, Kogon district, Bukhara region, 9th grade student of the 17th school in the district, "I bow to those who know you", regional stage 1_place winner.

Poetry from Ilhomova Mohichehra

Young Central Asian woman with long dark hair, brown eyes, and a black ruffled top holding a red rose encased in plastic. She's inside by a wooden door.

The light of my eyes.

When an insect gets in my eye,

I said I will lift the world on my head.

Ojiza, the blind man now,

I felt how you live.

I don’t care for anyone like this,

I can’t see anything anymore.

Such difficult days at the beginning,

I won’t open my mouth to let him go.

Oh my God, because I have the light of my eyes,

I will thank you.

For keeping me healthy

I will say thank you a thousand times.

Ilhomova Mohichehra, 8th grade student of school No. 9, Zarafshan city, Navoi region.