At school, they called him Daniel. Quick, easy, familiar. Teachers didn’t stumble over it, and classmates didn’t ask him to repeat it twice. But at home, in the narrow apartment filled with the smells of cardamom and cumin, he was Daaniyal.
His mother always said it in full—stretching the vowels like a melody. His grandmother embroidered it on cloth, smooth and precise in Arabic script. He used to love the shape of it. But somewhere around seventh grade, he stopped correcting people.
It wasn’t a big moment—just a slow erosion. Like when rain doesn't fall all at once but still manages to reshape stone.
He knew what they would say: *It’s just a name.* But that wasn’t true. Daaniyal was the name whispered in his ear during his aqiqah. It was the name that carried his grandfather’s prayer and the weight of a language he didn’t speak well enough to defend.
In English class, he once wrote a story and signed it 'Daaniyal.' When it was returned, his teacher had crossed it out and replaced it: *Daniel — great job!* He didn’t say anything.
Now, in high school, his identities lived parallel lives. Daniel answered questions in class. Daniel laughed with friends in the lunchroom. But Daaniyal sat quietly during parent-teacher night, translating for his mother while avoiding eye contact with teachers who mispronounced both their names.
One afternoon, his history teacher assigned a personal timeline project. 'Mark the milestones that shaped who you are,' she said. That night, Daaniyal stared at the blank paper. He wrote: *1995: Born in New York. 1999: First Eid with my family. 2005: Learned to write my name in Arabic. 2007: Stopped using it.*
He didn’t turn it in the next day. He wasn’t sure which version of himself had written it.
By the end of the week, the paper was folded and soft at the edges. He finally placed it on the teacher’s desk without a word. When she handed it back later, she hadn’t graded it. She had written only a note at the bottom: *Thank you for sharing both versions of your story.*
Q1: What is the central conflict in the story?
Q2: Why does the teacher’s note at the end carry emotional weight?
Q3: What does the line 'It wasn’t a big moment—just a slow erosion' suggest about Daniel’s identity shift?
Q4: What abstract theme is most clearly developed in the passage?
Q5: Why does Daaniyal hesitate to turn in the timeline project?
Q6: How does the author use contrast to show Daniel’s internal struggle?
Q7: What tone best describes the overall mood of the passage?
Printable Comprehension Practice
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Q1: What is the central conflict in the story?
✅ Correct Answer: C
💡 Reasoning: The passage explores Daniel/Daaniyal’s internal struggle between his home identity and the one he performs at school.
Q2: Why does the teacher’s note at the end carry emotional weight?
✅ Correct Answer: B
💡 Reasoning: Her response shows empathy and understanding, honoring both aspects of his identity rather than correcting them.
Q3: What does the line 'It wasn’t a big moment—just a slow erosion' suggest about Daniel’s identity shift?
✅ Correct Answer: C
💡 Reasoning: The metaphor of erosion reflects a gradual, unnoticed change in how he allowed his name—and identity—to be reshaped.
Q4: What abstract theme is most clearly developed in the passage?
✅ Correct Answer: C
💡 Reasoning: The story uses the name as a central symbol of identity, memory, and the internal tension of living between two worlds.
Q5: Why does Daaniyal hesitate to turn in the timeline project?
✅ Correct Answer: C
💡 Reasoning: He hesitates because the timeline reveals personal and vulnerable moments related to his identity.
Q6: How does the author use contrast to show Daniel’s internal struggle?
✅ Correct Answer: C
💡 Reasoning: The contrast between 'Daniel' at school and 'Daaniyal' at home emphasizes the split in his identity and sense of belonging.
Q7: What tone best describes the overall mood of the passage?
✅ Correct Answer: C
💡 Reasoning: The narrator reflects quietly and emotionally on identity, belonging, and language, creating a mood that is both tender and thoughtful.