Adar (I)

I suppose Adar in schools anywhere in the world is a crazy month (at least until Purim). Today, the first day of Rosh Chodesh Adar, has been the beginning of my initiation into the Adar in Israel.

A general introduction: most of the things I have seen so far have been, in my mind, either acceptable forms of fun, craziness, happiness, whatever you want to call it. A few things have been very close to the edge of acceptable behavior. Nothing yet has been beyond acceptable behavior - but I have every pessimistic reason to believe that that day will come.....

Rosh Chodesh Adar (Day 1)

- During the first period, the entire school began dancing (spontaneously?) in and out of the classrooms. They then danced to the makolet and danced with the owner there. The entire train of dancers/singers made their way to a nearby elementary school and danced with the teachers and students. The whole thing lasted 20-25 minutes and it was very, very special.

- Two classes barricaded their doors with chairs and tables. That was pretty close to the border of unacceptable behavior and a bit dangerous. (Other teachers told me that it was relatively tame as compared to what they remember from their high school experience.)
When I told the students that they were close to crossing the line they, much to their credit, dissembled the pile and set up the classroom again. All in all, a pretty OK event. (One not-so-nice thing: when the kids were "protesting" and preventing their teachers from entering the classroom, some of the kids used expressions and chants reminiscent of the disengagement protests in the summer and earlier this month. That rubbed me the wrong way.)

- A Hebrew Language Arts teacher knew it would be a bit crazy today. He brought in his guitar and told great stories and sang songs. I thought teenage boys would not appreciate it. It went great!

- Lots and lots of singing in the hallways. Beautiful... a little annoying to the classes trying to learn, but beautiful.

Wheeling and Dealing in School

Something is going on in school - and has gone on in every school in which I have taught. Students bring chocolate, lollipops, gum, sandwiches, gummy bears, cookies etc. etc. etc. and sell them. They sell them not for tzedakah (though that happen too) but for personal profit.

And I really do not know how I feel about it.

On the one hand, these young entrepreneurs are working hard, learning the lessons of saving, planning, marketing, budgeting, etc. etc. They are providing a "needed" service that is, hopefully honest and "straight."

On the other hand, in our school in particular, they are taking money away from a person who is literally in business to feed his family.
[UPDATE: The makolet owner called for a meeting with us about how upset he is about these young businessmen. We decided to issue a statement to them and to prohibit it.]

Secondly, I don't feel so comfortable having students profiting from their friends. I suppose one could argue that anyone who is in business does that either directly or indirectly.... but must the kids learn that and do that so young?

Lastly, there is the general money-hungry attitude that I just don't feel so comfortable with. Again, we all know money is important and necessary. More than that, the Torah in no way shuns a person who seeks money or needs money. An ascetic lifestyle is antithetical to the Torah. But there is a flipside too: The Torah and the Midrash view negatively one who runs after money, one who views money as a goal not a means. Most children do not seem to be able to balance between the need for money and the desire for money. Perhaps this gives us a chance to educate them. Perhaps not.

So, I am stuck. Is it a good thing? A bad thing? Both? On a case-by-case basis I talk to the kids, I reason with them, once in a while I prohibit it. But there are no hard and fast rules. Just living in the gray.

Tiyul with the Faculty

Our faculty recently took a day off from teaching to take a tiyul together. Reminiscent of Steven Covey's 7th Habit (viz. Sharpen the Saw, see here or here) our entire staff took some time to sharpen our saws. After a general faculty meeting and Torah learning (I'll talk about that in future post), we went on a trip, together. There were a few amazing things that came out from this amazing today. I'll mention a few now and come back to others later, G-d willing.

1) First of all, the fact that we cancelled classes just to have a trip is incredible. It says a lot about the school here that they are willing to cancel classes so that the faculty can have a day to themselves. The time together, the bonding, the teamwork all paid off even though we received a few negative parents from a few parents ("Why am I paying money so that the faculty can bond??"..... I would imagine that in schools where the parents pay more than $10,000 a year for school, there would be even more negative feedback.). The teachers learned (if they did not know already) that the administration cares about them, invests in them, wants them to feel like a team, wants them to succeed.

2) Everyone came on the trip. Everyone. Teachers, administrators, resource room, specialty teachers, gym teachers... all came. And more than that: the custodian, the secretaries, the head of the Board of Directors.... everyone. Teamwork at its finest. All were included. That speaks volumes.

3) As mentioned before (here and here), it is great to take a tiyul - with the entire faculty - where the Tanch is your guide. That speaks volumes too.

Sports in Israel

I'm not a huge sports fan, but I do like to play an occasional game of basketball or baseball (you can take a guy out of America but you can't...).

An interesting thing has been happening in our school. The Yeshiva in which I work is - like many schools in Israel - made up of a United Nations-like range of students. Israelis, Americans, Englishmen, South Africans, Ethiopians, Australians, Canadians, Russians, Iraqis, Moroccans... all work, play, study, and pray together in our school. That, in itself, is amazing.

Sports, though, is the great equalizer. To see all these kinds of boys playing soccer together, or basketball, or even American football, is simply incredible. It's strange that that would bring out in me feelings of Returning of the Exiles... but it does. They are all Jews, playing on Jewish soil, talking a common language.... there are no words.

Been There, Done That

[One of the luxuries of blogging is that you can throw things "out there" even if you're not 100% sure how you feel about them or even if you're not 100% sure you're correct. This post is one of those kinds of posts. Still, if I were 100% sure that I was not correct, I wouldn't post this either...!]

Living in a community with a lot of olim, and living in a time in Jewish history where there are a lot of olim in Israel, has a tremendous amount of advantages. Everywhere we turn, there are people who have been what we are going through. Problem with the Misrad Hapnim? No problem. When we came... so we did...." or "Getting a credit card? I remember when.... so we...."

The assistance, the advice, the tips are almost always helpful.

But somewhere, deep down, I get the feeling that people who have "been there, done that" have a tacit attitude of "You'll get through it. So did we." or "We made it through that terrible time when.... so will you."

Talking with native Israelis, on the other hand, while they cannot give the advice of an Oleh, they can - and usually do - give a sense of encouragement that recent immigrants take for granted. Speaking with native Israelis is often like talking to a personal cheerleading squad. "Wow. I can't believe you came to Israel! I don't think I could do that if I were not born in Israel!" "You did an amazing thing..."

It's awkward to admit, but I must say, it really really helps.

I am embarrassingly reminded of a Seinfeld episode where Jerry does some small favor for a Pakistani restaurant owner and we here the voice in his head say something like, "Yes. I am a good person".

I guess my family and I need more of that cheerleading than we expected. I think we need to constantly surround ourselves with both kinds of people: The olim, for practical support and role modeling (Yes, we can do it!) and the native Israelis for the other kind of support that my fellow anglos cannot give.

That really helps.

Oh well... I am human.

Atlantic City in Israel

When I was younger, I went to Atlantic City for a few hours (there, I admitted it...). I brought $100 with me and I was willing to lose it. I played craps despite the fact that I had no idea how to play. I won almost $400.

For the next few years a small, small part of me thought about that $400... often. I wondered if I should have gone back and tried again. I wondered if I had some kind of skill that made me successful at that sort of thing (whatever it was).

About 3 years after my first visit, I was at a conference in Foxwoods and.... I went back to the craps table. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. I lost $100 in about 15 minutes. And that was the last of my gambling aspirations.

I mention this because I just went back to the U.S. for a family simcha. Ever since my family and I made Aliyah this past summer, a small, small part of me thought about the States and how great it was for us there. We're happy here but, when things went a tad tough here, I'd think in the back of my mind about the States and if, maybe, perhaps, who knows.... should we go back??

Going there was great for me.

I still love my family in America and I still miss them tremendously. But the "going back to the States" bug was, to a large part, erased. It's probably still there somewhere, but it is no longer the quiet presence that it was until my trip.

It's easier to sleep now.

Taxis

The last-period teacher in the 8th grade was absent today. Students with their parents' permission were allowed to leave school early. Since they cannot drive, their parents were working, and they live too far from school, many of them called taxis and went home.

In the U.S., I worked in the New York Metropolitan area. A few of the children in the older grades would, once in a while, take a cab to their homes or back to school for one reason or another. It certainly was not common.

Growing up (outside of New York), I cannot recall a single time taking a taxi by myself before graduating high school.

My experience in Israel has been vastly different. It seems that many, many kids even in the 7th or 8th grades take taxis regularly. I don't have a great theory as to why that difference exists but I do notice it a lot. The difference is striking.

I think that part of the reason is that the children here become independent much earlier. (If that is not a generalization and over-simplification, I don't know what is!)

I need to think more about this.

Tiyul in the Rain

I mentioned before how linked and connected Jews in Israel are to rain.

We are planning a tiyul for next week. Like every outdoor trip anywhere in the world, the plans are weather permitting. The principal in our school, however, seems weary of saying things like, "We'll have the tiyul, weather permitting..." or "... if the weather is nice" because who is to say what weather is nice? I imagine that everyone in Israel who likes to drink, take showers, eat produce, etc. would think that nice weather is timely, plentiful rain!

He chose to use the following expression (I heard him say it at least 10 times in various contexts when planning the tiyul): "If the prayers of travelers are not answered..."

The quote comes from the Gemara (Yoma 53b) about prayers of people that the Kohen Gadol asks not to be accepted: travelers of course want dry conditions in which to travel and they presumably pray for no rain.

(I should add that the Amshinover Rebbe (Rabbi Yosef ben Rabbi Menachem Kalisch, d. 1906) asks: Who are these travelers? If they are tzaddikim, why are they praying for no rain? And if they are evil, why even think that Hashem would answer their prayers? He answers that they are "regular" people who sometimes forget the big picture. Of course they want rain. But they also want to come home dry and safe.)

Our principal - in the a few words about something as insignificant as a school trip - taught the students and faculty how to speak, what to pray for, and how dependent we are on G-d.

No small feat.

"... One Who Learns from Every Person." (III)

Another "only in Israel" post (similar to here and here):

I had a conversation around the water cooler (actually, it was the coffee urn in the teachers lounge) with our science teacher, a warm, experienced woman who is a 9th generation Israeli on her father's side and a 6th generation Israeli on her mother's side.

We were talking about the situation in Amona and the disengagement this past summer. While she was appalled at the violence on both sides, she became emotional when she talked about what it was like growing up in the State of Israel's early years. She was a young girl in the 50's and she remembered that her father, with his kaputa (frock) and long beard used to drag his entire family - with no car - all across Jerusalem to witness every single cornerstone dedication. Sometimes it took all day... but he wouldn't miss a single one!

She remembered a specific outing - being dragged all day for the opening of a post office somewhere in Jerusalem - and her father's words as to why they were going through all this trouble (I got chills when she related his words): "Every single building - every new brick in Israel - is a simcha, a cause for celebration! A post office - a Jewish post office - in Israel....!! Can you imagine! How many soldiers died so that we could have a normal life here in Israel? A post office! What a simcha!"

Shawshank Redemption Revisited

I promised that I would not do a meme list. I broke my promise.... sort of.

Maybe I will do more lists of that sort. In the meantime, thanks to grovepark for your comment.

You asked a question:
...And how interesting what you said about God training the Jewish people to become free and not just taking them out. But how? What do you mean?

Let me explain (based loosely on the Sforno and Rabbi J. B. Soloveitchik) by asking a question from this past week's parsha, Parshat Bo. When the Jews were leaving Egypt, G-d stops the "story" in the middle to present the first commandment that the Jews receive, the mitzvah to create a calendar and fix times:

Hashem spoke to Moshe and Aharon in the land of Egypt saying: This month will be for you the beginning of all months. (Shmot 12)

All the commentaries ask: Why now? Why is this the first Mitzvah?

I think the answer is illustrated in Shawshank Redemption. One of the side plots involves Brooks Hatlen (James Whitmore) who is parolled after many, many years behind bars. His fears about going out - who will decide when to eat, what to wear, how will he bear the pressures of earning a living - are actualized when he commits suicide. This contrasts the other, main plot of the movie: Andy Dufresne's (Tim Robbins) slow, steady quest to earn his freedom. With patience and tenacity while never losing focus of his ultimate goal, he ultimately succeeds.

When the Jews were in Egypt, they were slaves in every way - mental, physical, spriritual, individual, national. G-d took them out of Egypt, but He did not only free them physically. He trained them, via the mitzvot in the desert to become a Nation, free to serve Him in Israel with the Torah.

Learning how to sanctify time is the first part of this basic training: slaves have no past, no future and certainly no present. Their entire existstence is based entirely on their master. As slaves become free, the first thing they must learn is how to sanctify their time: how to value the past, sanctify the present, and build for the future. Like in the movie, a slow, steady approach to breaking the slave mentality is the only way for the nation to become completely free in order to serve G-d.

(Chapter 12 in Shmot is filled with other mitzvot which are also made for breaking the slave-nation and creating a free, G-d fearing nation. Now though, is not the place.)