New surge of Americans studying in the Arab world

Zeinab Taha, director of the AUC's elite Center for Arabic Studies Abroad, or CASA, says that not only have the numbers of students risen, but so has their overall standard. "Five years ago, half of our applicants couldn't finish the entrance exam,'' she says. "This year, every single question was answered in Arabic. Long responses in complete paragraphs."

CASA, funded by the US government, is an advanced course that gives a full ride to students who already have some proficiency in Arabic, and this year it has 40 students, up from about 15 before 9/11.

The students in Cairo represent the broad spectrum of American education. Many of the students at CASA are working toward advanced degrees in Middle Eastern studies with an eye toward jobs in academia or with development organizations. Some speak of working for the CIA or the US defense establishment.

Nora Cundy, a CASA student from Paris, Maine, who worked in rural Jordan after graduating from college, says her interest in the region grew after working at a peace camp for Palestinian and Israeli children near her hometown in Maine. "What I came to understand in Jordan was that language was the most important root to understanding this region."

US undergraduates - there are about 300 spending a semester or a year here - are typically less certain about what they will do in the future, but almost all say they expect the region to remain a focus of US interest for decades to come.

Trae Stephens, a junior at Georgetown's school of foreign service, is spending the fall in Cairo before hustling back to Washington for classes and the start of the spring ultimate-frisbee season. He says he hopes to work for US intelligence when he graduates and recalls a guest lecture to his class by former CIA Director George Tenet as a pivotal moment. "It was very clear to me that this man knew a lot more than we know, and that seemed a good thing. It was sort of the epiphany,'' he says. "As globalization grows, our national security is more at risk every day. I want to be one of those people helping to make policy recommendations that can keep us out of international messes."

For some, their engagement is already yielding broader perspectives. Mr. Wulfsberg was living with a Palestinian-Jordanian family on Sept. 11, when a news broadcast interrupted an episode of Sabrina the Teenage Witch. "Everyone was immediately denying that Muslims could have been involved, though this quickly moved to a lecture on US foreign policy," he says. But that evening he also visited another Jordanian family who seemed personally overwhelmed by the tragedy. "They were crying and distraught. Until the invasion of Afghanistan started, I couldn't get in a cab without the driver apologizing for what had happened at home."

Wulfsberg tries to limit his time with other foreigners, socializing with Egyptian and Afghani friends who study at Al Azhar, the ancient university that draws Muslim students from more than 90 countries. He tells people on the streets that he's Norwegian, mostly so people don't try to practice their English with him, but also because he's grown tired of becoming a stand-in for the US government.

"Sometimes I feel a little guilty about it, because I could be making a dent in some people's impressions of the US,'' he says. "You know, here's this American guy, and he's interested in learning about Islam and our culture."

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