Two Memoirs from Ahvaz’s Educational Mentors Regarding the Ten-Day Fajr ceremony

Selected by Faezeh Sasanikhah
Translated by Kianoush Borzouei

2025-2-10

From the War Exhibition to the Battlefield

Narrator: Iraj Heidariniya

As the Fajr of 1986 (1364) approached, I made an announcement during the morning assembly:
"Anyone with an idea or a proposal, step forward so we can implement it in this year’s school exhibition."

Once the assembly concluded, students swarmed around me, unleashing a flood of ideas and suggestions. I was taken aback. Taking a deep breath, I whispered, “Ya Ali,” and got to work with the students.

The first step was preparing the exhibition hall. The students were relentless, working tirelessly day and night. I had to beg them to go home. The exhibition booths were diverse and compelling. In the "Unknown Martyrs" booth, we placed a few small stones to symbolize their unmarked graves. Students brought personal military dog tags and mementos from home, placing them in mirrored boxes atop the makeshift graves.

The "Photos of Martyrs and Combatants" booth was meticulously curated and decorated by the students themselves. The "Operations" booth replicated war zones and front-line trenches. The students compiled information about the Sacred Defense and transformed it into brochures, which they distributed to visitors at the exhibition entrance. I also coordinated with two war veterans to attend the "Memoirs Booth" and share their experiences.

Two days before the grand opening, one of the students approached me.
"Sir, I have a suggestion."
"Go ahead," I replied.
"Can we send invitations to other schools?"

It was an excellent idea. The students quickly prepared the invitations and distributed them to nearby schools.

On the eve of the opening, I played a selection of revolutionary and patriotic anthems that I had carefully prepared in advance. The gentle glow of lanterns and candles, combined with the stirring melodies, created an expressive and solemn atmosphere. Despite limited access to military equipment from the IRGC, the "Weapons and Military Equipment" booth became one of the most popular sections, drawing students who listened intently to the booth supervisor’s explanations.

Teachers and educational mentors, including Mr.Bourd, visited the exhibition alongside students and their families, expressing their gratitude for our efforts.A few months later, it was time for deployment to the front lines. Many students from the same school enlisted—students who had either helped organize the exhibition or had been among its visitors. These brave souls fought shoulder to shoulder with me and my fellow teachers, and ultimately, many ascended to the heavens.^[1]

Living Through the Ten-Day Fajr ceremony

Narrator: Mohammad Maktabi

The only time when top-performing and struggling students were indistinguishable was during the Ten-Day Fajr ceremony. Everyone was eager and excited. At Beit Sayyah School, despite the overwhelming number of students across its three shifts, we had a comprehensive plan in place.

The Friday before the official commencement of the celebrations, a group of students and I would come to school to wash the classrooms and the courtyard. A couple of days before the start of the ceremony, students would begin decorating. The hallways and classrooms would be adorned with portraits of Imam Khomeini, colorful banners, and revolutionary slogans. Among all these decorations, the student-made wall newspapers stood out the most. One year, they created an astounding 85 wall newspapers, turning both sides of the hallway into an exhibition of student journalism.

Each day of the Ten-Day Fajr ceremony featured three and a half hours of activities, including speeches, anthems, theatrical performances, and competitions—ensuring that no student remained idle. Some sketched portraits of the Imam, others practiced calligraphy, while some prepared essays and recitations.

At night, we had a rotating watch to ensure that no mischief-makers tampered with the decorations.

The school had little to no budget, so we relied on the students’ personal belongings. For the choir, I instructed the students to wear white shirts and black trousers—whatever they or their brothers already owned. Their untucked white shirts draped over black pants became our uniform. We lacked a proper piano or musical instruments, so we played recordings of songs and synchronized the choir to the rhythm.

We faced challenges as well. Sometimes the lead soloist would fall ill, throwing the entire choir into mess, or a theater performer would be unable to attend, forcing us to find an immediate replacement.

The final event was an academic and sports competition, in which over 500 students across different grades participated. Winners received prizes, which motivated even more enthusiasm.

One of the most highly anticipated activities was attending the congregational prayers and participating in the revolutionary march. We walked for kilometers, from Beit Sayyah School^[2] to the Musalla—a long but fervent journey of solidarity.^[3]