This Princeton educator teaches virtual English classes to Afghan girls around the world

Every Thursday night, English teacher Seth Holm logs on to his computer to help Afghan girls half a world away with their English language skills.

The girls, scattered around the Middle East and beyond, are eager to hone their English. For those still living in Afghanistan, where the Taliban forbids girls to attend school past sixth grade, it is a major risk — but one they are willing to take. They believe that learning English is their only chance to possibly leave one day and seek a better life.

“I didn’t expect that the bravest people I would meet in my life would be teenage girls,” said Holm, a world languages teacher at the Hun School of Princeton. “These girls are some of the best people I have ever met.”

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After the Taliban implemented the rules that banned most older girls from getting an education, many were desperately seeking an opportunity to continue their studies. An Afghan student attending the Hun School of Princeton heeded the call and started the online class in 2022. Founded in 1914, the exclusive private boarding and day school serves about 670 sixth through 12th graders from around the world.

Holm, a dorm parent who lives on campus with his wife, Lauren, and two children, begins the weekly class from his office about 9:30 p.m. Because of the 9½-hour time difference, it is early Friday morning where most of the girls live. He is greeted with, “Hello, teacher!”

It can take several attempts for the students to connect as internet access is spotty and most homes have electrical power for only about four hours daily. Some share electronic devices or borrow them from relatives.

Holm asks the students to put their grammar or vocabulary questions in the group chat, and they spend about an hour reviewing the assignment. In some cases, he gives them a root word or encourages them to conjugate a word or use it in a sentence, such as “halt,” “hoax,” and “rivalry.”

The girls were especially curious about how to use the word “heck.” Holm explained that it was generally acceptable as an alternative to using “hell,” which could be considered a curse word.

“‘Heck’ is a baby swear word,” he smilingly tells them. “Most Americans say it.”

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The class discussion took on an emotional tone when the girls discussed Homeira Qaderi’s heart-wrenching memoir, Dancing in the Mosque: An Afghan Mother’s Letter to Her Son. Qaderi rebelled against Taliban rule during the Soviet Union’s occupation of Afghanistan and risked her life to teach reading and writing to children. She eventually fled the country, leaving behind her young son, Siawash.

The girls offered mixed reviews about the story of a young Hazara girl who falls in love with a Taliban boy. Some young men have no choice but to join Taliban forces, one girl said. Another offered that she could never feel sorrow for a Taliban member.

“Not all of them are bad,” said Shokria. (Holm asked that the students’ last names be withheld for their protection.) “No one wants to be known as a murderer.”

“What would be the good of empathizing with someone who thinks like a Taliban?” one of the girls asked.

“It’s a great question. I don’t know the answer,” Holm said.

When the discussion grew heated with some girls choking back tears, Holm gently intervened. He reminded them about his class rules for civil discourse. He moved the discussion to another passage that mentions suicide bombings, which prompted an emotional plea from him that they not consider committing suicide, which has become a big issue among Afghan girls.

“I’m begging each one of you that if that thought comes to your mind, call me immediately,” Holm said. “That is not something I can live with.”

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In a class the following week, Holm surprised the girls with a visit from Qaderi, the author they were discussing, who fielded questions from the girls. They said they were inspired by Qaderi, and she offered them encouragement.

“Every one of you can be a leader,“ she told them. “This situation makes you strong.”

Holm invites the girls to treat the class as a therapy session, where they can vent their frustration and cope with depression and isolation. Besides missing school, the girls are limited in public activities unless accompanied by a male relative.

Asked what she wants the world to know about Afghanistan, student Najibah replied: “There is a lot of suffering in our life. Let the world know that is really going on.”

The idea for the class came from Zahra, a student who fled Afghanistan in 2021 to escape the Taliban and desperately wanted to help girls back home.

With help from two classmates, Zahra conducted a survey to gauge interest. They heard from more than 200 girls.

It began as a four-week class with about 20 students. Today, nearly 200 girls and women from age 13 to 32 are enrolled in five levels of classes, from basic English to an advanced literature course. About a dozen girls are on Holm’s teaching team and run classes for younger girls.

At the Hun School, the class has grown into a humanitarian mission on the bucolic 50-acre campus just down the street from Princeton University. Hun students help with a study-buddy program and a one-on-one tutoring program. A new project with the nonprofit Afghan Girls Financial Assistance Fund hopes to place some of the girls in other schools abroad.

Through its Afghan Education Student Outreach Project, known as AESOP, the school agreed to provide scholarships annually to two Afghan girls. The first student was expected to enroll for the upcoming school year, but was unable to obtain a student visa to leave Pakistan.

“This is a passion project with real meaning, for the Afghan girls they are working with, but also for them and the Hun community as a whole,” said Jon Brougham, Hun’s head of school.

Holm, chairman of Hun’s modern languages and classics department, has taken on extra duties to promote the project and raise funds. He recently spearheaded an exhibit in Lawrenceville showcasing artwork, clothing, photos, essays, and jewelry made by the students. The proceeds will be used to provide internet access and pay for English proficiency exams the girls must take to apply for most scholarships, he said.

One student sent a colorful needlepoint for the exhibit, embroidered with the message “Stand with women in Afghanistan.” Some sent photographs of life before and after the Taliban takeover. Others, such as Soheila, wrote a message for a dream board display: “I wish tomorrow there is no more traces of barbaric Taliban.”

To mark the one-year anniversary of the class in June, the girls lauded Holm and celebrated with cake and ice cream. One student read a poem in English and Persian, “You can count on me.” Another sang a song:

“So teacher take my hand and guide me. Teach me more about myself so that I know who I am and who I can be.”

Holm was moved to tears.

“I am overwhelmed with how lucky I am to have a class like this,” he said. “I hardly feel like I deserve it, but I’ll take it.”