Mr. Moore|آقای مور



I moved to USA when I was at late 16. The only English I knew was “hello” and “how are you?”

In September 1986 I attended Grade 12 in George Washington High School at Charleston, West Virginia. Not knowing enough English to attend high school was a hard challenge.


For every single subject that I needed to complete to be able to graduate, I had to work triple hard. I had to find every single word in the dictionary to understand every subject.


But it was a great achievement for me and I was very excited and positive about it. Months passed and I was getting better in English and was speaking slowly but more smooth. My English teacher was very kind and patient with me, she talked slowly and clearly to make sure I understood. My Algebra teacher loved me because I always handed in neat homework and got A+ in his class. All the students and other teachers were super nice and never made fun of my baby steps in learning English.


There was a very tall white man in his late sixties, always shaved. He had white hair, blue eyes and his face was mostly red. He was very serious and looked angry all the time. His name was “Mr. Moore”. He wasn’t nice to anyone, but he was even more unkind to me and a girl from El Salvador. He was our Biology teacher and no matter how polite I was and how hard I worked in his class, he always gave me an “F” for my work. After months of trying, I realized if I continue this way, I wouldn’t be able to graduate. I went to the Grade 12 Councillor, Barbara. She was a white chubby lady with a beautiful smile. I remember that I cried a lot in her office and explained my situation. She mumbled: “Oh, that racist….”


And continued: “My dear don’t you worry at all. I will transfer you to another Biology class.”

I grudged and said: “What about the months of “F’s.”

She got up from her desk, held my hand and took me to Mr. Huffman’s office and told him: “She is another one of Mr. Moore’s students set aside for sacrifice. She is getting good grades in other classes. I want her in your Biology class. She needs to graduate. She needs our help.”

Mr. Huffman said: “Oh dear, Mr. Moore did it again?!”

I really didn’t understand on that day what they were talking about, until I got C+ in Biology and graduated with other students.



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I am smart|من با هوشم


A third-grade teacher was on medical break for a few months. A new substitute teacher walked into the class.


The substitute teacher continued the class like other normal days.



In every subject, he realized one of the students was slower and lacked self-confidence, causing his classmates to bully him a lot. One day when class was finished, the substitute teacher asked the slow student to stay after school.



The substitute teacher wrote a short poem from a famous poet on the board and told the student: “I would like you to memorize this poem tonight. Please don’t tell anyone about it.”


The next day, the substitute teacher wrote the same poem on the board and said: “I give you all 5 minutes to memorize this poem. It’s a famous poem and all of you have heard it before, so it shouldn’t be hard.”



After five minutes he erased the poem and asked: “Who remembers the poem?”

The slow student was the only one who raised his hand and was able to recite the poem. Other kids were shocked and the teacher said loudly: “Everyone please clap for M-H.”


Every day the kind substitute teacher helped M-H. believe in himself. M-H. became the honor student that year. Every year after that he was the best student in his classes. After years, he became the most famous kidney transplant specialist in Iran.


Then in his life story he mentioned that he owes all his achievements in life to his grade three-substitute teacher who made him believe that he was not dumb, and he should work hard and have faith in himself. He is still living in Shiraz-Iran and has saved many lives.

Dear friends:

You can purchase my book; “Climbing Over Grit” at;

Barnes & Noble, Gardners, Bertrams, Ingram, Baker & Taylor, and all bookselling channels via hubs in US, UK, Brazil, Germany, Russia and Australia. The links are listed below:

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23 years ago, my husband, our 6-year-old son and I flew to Turkey to pay a visit.


We toured beautiful Istanbul and Ankara for around ten days. To return to Iran, we decided to go by bus so we could see many parts of Turkey and Iran on the way.


The boarder was like an airport and there were more than 10 buses and many cars waiting in line to be checked. All the passengers were supposed to stay in the terminal.


People had their luggage in line and sat on benches, chairs and some on the floor waiting for their bus to come out of customs.

90 percent of the terminal was fill with Iranian people. A couple approached us and started a conversation: “Hi, how are you? What brought you to Turkey?”


They complimented each one of us and tried to get friendly. They seemed like a nice and normal couple.

Then the couple asked us: “Looks like you don’t have any suitcase.“

My husband said: “We were touring and a carry-on was enough for us.”


The couple continued: “Now that you don’t have any luggage, do you mind passing this handmade Turkish rug through customs for us? This way we don’t have to pay duty. We both have two suitcases and if we take this rug they will charge us a lot.”


My husband without any hesitation said: “Sorry, we can’t.”

The couple said: “Why? That would be very nice of you. You don’t have anything with you. Please just pass this rug for us. God bless you if you do.”

My husband got annoyed and said: “Sorry, I would never do this. I don’t know you. I can’t trust you. Sorry.”

They got mad and mumbled while leaving us: “It was just a rug. Cheap, unkind people are gathered here calling themselves compatriots.”

After a while, they announced our bus number and finally we could get to the bus. When we reached the other side of customs, we saw that couple in handcuffs, the rug was open and there were many small plastic bags filled with drugs.”


Thank God for my husband’s wise decision, we could have gotten executed for that amount of drugs or rotted in jail forever.


Dear friends:

You can purchase my book; “Climbing Over Grit” at;

Barnes & Noble, Gardners, Bertrams, Ingram, Baker & Taylor, and all bookselling channels via hubs in US, UK, Brazil, Germany, Russia and Australia. The links are listed below:

Our Book Page is:


Bad Timing| بد موقع


When I was little, used to get car sick even during short drives. I always had roll down the window and let my head out to get fresh air. One day, my grandmother had a lunch party.




There were many different family members who I hadn’t seen before. The party was very formal and we had to be on our best behavior.


There was an old woman who was very important to my grandmother so we all had to be extra polite around her.


When the party was finished, my grandmother asked my father to give the old woman a ride on our way home. We all said our goodbyes and got into the car with a few other family members to give them rides as well. The respected old lady, my sister, aunts, cousins and I were all stuffed up in the back seat of the car.


This happened 40 years ago where there was no law for wearing seat belts in Iran, and no one cared how many people would ride in one single car. We usually had ten to sixteen family members in one car; honestly, I have no idea how we did that but there must have been more peace and love back then.


So, my father started driving. We were still trying to be polite in front of that old lady. I didn’t feel very good, my car sickness was getting worse every minute, I wasn’t able to get closer to window as the car was very crowded and I was feeling all the foods I had at the party in the back of my throat.



As soon as I opened my mouth to tell my mother that I didn’t feel good, I threw up on that old lady; the most respected member of our family.

Also, the kindle version is now on pre-order.

Publication date is October 1st.






Kish is a beautiful island with attractive cliffs and beaches in the Persian Gulf that is a part of Iran. Around 30 years ago, the Iranian Government decided to invest there and build grand Malls, hotels and parks and transformed it into a tourist attraction. Many people from Iran started visiting. Nowadays, Kish has grown even more with amusement parks and attractions.


Around 20 years ago on a Spring day, as I was in Iran with my husband and 8 year-old son and 2 year-old daughter, we decided to drive from Shiraz with my mother to the south of Iran and then get a passenger ship to visit Kish.


It was a long beautiful road trip and after two days we got to the closest port to Kish. There was a Harbor front for small, classy passenger ships with services that were exactly like airplanes.


When we got to the ticket office they said it was sold out for the day and that there wouldn’t be any other ship until the next day. We were disappointed and really wanted to see Kish now that we had driven such a long distance.


There were some men walking around and whispering in people’s ear. We got curious so my husband got closer and found out that these local fishermen were taking passengers to Kish on their simple motor boats for a reasonable price. Of course it wasn’t illegal, but it also wasn’t classy at all. They said they will take us to Kish in just an hour and a half, when those ships took three hours!

We all looked at each other and decided to go.


My husband paid the amount and all of us went to the small boat without any life jackets. There were a few more people going to Kish along with us.

The Persian Gulf was beautiful as always and when we got further from shore, the deep water became navy and phenomenal. All of a sudden, the clouds got closer and darker, and the Persian Gulf got angry.


The waves got higher and the little boat with us in it went up and dropped back down. I was holding onto my daughter so tight to prevent her from going up into the sky. My husband was holding our son between his legs so tight, as if he was crushing his bones, but it was better than losing him into the scary, dark blue water.


My mother was praying and holding her arms around us and it seemed like she wished for longer arms. We were all soaked in water and were shivering and frightened. My husband yelled at the fisherman asking why he would take us when he knew there would be a storm. The fisherman didn’t really care. He just drove his boat as fast as he could. That was one of the longest hours and a half of our lives.

We all got to the shore of Kish safely and when we got there they announced that two of the 12 boats had sunk and they couldn’t find their bodies!




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Don’t mistake impolite behavior with being smart|رفتار غیراخلاقی رابا,باهوش بودن اشتباه نگیر



Shahrokh was at his friend’s house for a visit.


His friend’s son was doing homework when the door bell rang. His friend’s father walked in with a box of color pencils for his grandson.


When the grandson got the gift he loudly said: “But grandpa, these colored pencils have no brand and they don’t have good quality.”


His friend’s wife smiled and said: “See Dad, you can’t trick kids these days because they are very smart.”


The poor grandpa didn’t know what to say.

Shahrokh didn’t like what he saw and heard so he looked at his friend’s son and said: “When I was a little boy, my grandma gifted me a broken sugar cube.


I didn’t like it but I politely said thank you and went to my Dad and complained quietly to him; “Why did your mother give me a sugar cube as a walk-in gift. This sugar cube is worth nothing.”

And my Dad said: “When Grandma was a little girl, it was world war II and people didn’t have enough food to eat and having a piece of sugar cube was a dream.


Grandma still believes the sugar cubes are precious and valuable because it was once her wish to have one.


I know that we have a full jar of sugar cubes in the house but they’re just sweet. They are not caring, loving and kind sugar cubes. When someone very close to us gives us a gift, they do it out of their sweet heart, they want to show us how much they love us and that is priceless. You will never be able to find that in any store with the most expensive price.” After 40 years I never found any sugar cube as sweet as my grandma’s gifts that could make my heart and soul sweet as well.”




An Angel Named Frog| فرشته ای به نام قورباغه


During our summer days, my family and I used to go to my grandma’s villa. Her villa was a big mansion in a very large garden that was a little far from the city of Shiraz.



When my mom’s sisters and brothers gathered, there were more than forty people with kids. Grown ups used to sit together while the kids played without supervision.


Usually after lunches everyone used to take a nap along with their kids. I was only 4 years old, I never liked to take a nap and always pretended to fall sleep beside my mother. On one particular day, everyone was asleep and the big living room was very quiet.


I got bored and sneaked out to the garden area.


There was a special deep pool for watering the garden, not swimming. It was always swampy with many frogs.


I went directly towards the pool and sat by the edge to be able to watch the frogs. As I bent forward to get a good look, my feet slipped and I fell into the pool in a blink of eye.


Of course I didn’t know how to swim. I panicked and struggled for a little while but my little hands got tired and I gave up hope as I sank to the bottom of the pool. I sat in the water terrified, waiting to die. I opened my eyes and looked all around me. I was surrounded by the green water and ooze and many frogs.


One frog drew my attention as it was bigger than the others. I stared at it like it was telling me to look at it and pay attention. The frog then slowly swam towards the top of the water.


I looked carefully and did every thing the frog did, I waved my arms above my head and pushed my legs, just like the frog. Next thing I  knew, I had swam to the top of the pool. Just then my uncle screamed: “She’s here….she’s here!” And pulled me out of the water.

That was an angel in the form of a frog, sent by God to save me. I could never forget that moment. Since then I learned how to swim like a frog and that’s the only way I can swim to this day.