Let the sun rise!!!
04 Sep 2010 Leave a Comment
Hi all!
AAAAAAAAHHH!!! School started!! And it is amazing and exhausting and wonderful. So so much better than my previous job where the communication was abysmal and the transparency in decision-making absent. The entire foundation of Democratic Education circles around the concept of dialogue and inclusion…..
Needless to say there’s a LOT of talking (fortunately, that’s something I do exhaustively with or without a forum). Everything is subject to endless and open-ended debate about the best and most appropriate way to enact affective change in our school in mindful accordance with our school constitution and principles…. (Whew!!! That was a mouthful!) Consequently, we as a staff are more often then not getting hung up on word. Meetings that are meant to last an hour and address seven specific points end up being meetings that last for 1.5/2 hours and address about 3.5 points (on average, I’m keeping a tally in my head). Oh, well… everything has its ups and downs.
All in all, I am really enjoying myself. The kids are great (for the most part) and the staff is great (for the most part) and the atmosphere is great. We had an event at the school on the first Friday (this past Friday) call “Irua Zrikha” (bring that phlegm out to play) which means “The Sunrise Event.” It was amazing. We arrived at the school at quarter to 5 in the morning, which was really intense for me. I strategically napped the evening before hand so as not to be completely wiped out. We were in the open-area of the kindergartners which is a really big field and there was set up a stage and lots of makhtzelot(straw mats) laid down for people to sit on. There was a table set out with lots of food brought by the parents. The ceremony involved a poem read by the principle on the stage, some singing by kids in 1st and 3 kids in 4th and 5th grade playing “Here Comes the Sun” while playing the Ukulele (which is totally a weird word to spell). Following the bum-rushing of the food tables after the ceremony, there were many sadna’ot (workshops) conducted by the parents. I went to a Zen meditation workshop with one of the dads which was really good. It did good things for my spirit and I felt a lot more focused and centered afterward. It allowed me to be still in body and mind for a moment to dedicate time to specifically overcoming the constant buzzing in my head. I hadn’t meditated in years and was really delighted and overwhelmed by the challenge of finding stillness and tranquility (worthy goals for any person). I don’t think I quite succeeded, but I felt rejuvenated by the attempt.
The ceremony wound down and I sat through another meeting that tried desperately to get its goals accomplished within the agreed-upon time period, unsuccessfully. A meeting about meetings. How amazing! I was also given a book called “Hakhinukh Democrati” (Democratic Education) by the principle, a book written by one of the original founders of democratic schooling in Israel. I look forward to delving deeper into this alternative pedagogy through more diverse perspectives!
I went to a cool improv show last night that involved the audience in a great way. It asked the audience members to tell stories from their lives and the improv troupe then provided their dramatic interpretations. The troupe could have been more dynamic and entertaining, but I found myself pretty drawn in by people’s personal narratives.
This month is so so so many holidays. I had a great day teaching at school today. It was pretty amoos(busy), with back-to-back classes and working through the last period (which I only do twice a week). I only work 2 days this week and tomorrow RONA KREMER ARRIVES TO VISIT ME [and family]!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This was a pretty train-of-though post. I hope it’s interesting/mildly engaging to someone (or everyone) who happens upon it (haha as if it’s happenstance when I’m sending the link out in a mass email).
I will write more soon!
Love,
me
A long overdue ______…
10 Jul 2010 Leave a Comment
in Adventure, Beginnings, Catastrophe, Ends, Literature, Uncategorized
Hello my friends and family,
I am writing from Tel Aviv. I have safely arrived after what feels like an eternity, a saga of trials, trips and transitions.
I’ve decided to start this blog to keep those near and dear to me relatively up-to-date on my life, or as up-to-date as possible given the intimidating limitations of distance, both geographical and emotional. Sometimes I feel like the emotional intensity of storytelling becomes more diluted with every mile that stands between the narrator and her/his interlocutor. I will, however, do my utmost to preserve the personality and feeling of my stories by steeping them from the formaldehyde of narration: poetic pros (my most natural medium and mother tongue).
I’ll begin at the point that seems most clear to me as the obvious beginning (in storytelling chronology, which is atemporal in a sense): My flight from India to Israel.
WHAT A NIGHTMARE! Obviously, the trip felt strange if only for the fact that it was my last bout of transnational transit before settling in one place for a long while. Having spent the last five (arguably seven) tumultuous months in relatively constant movement and uncertainty, in actively discarding and acquiring, in huge rupturous (yes I know it’s not a real word) life changes that all fell into my lap at one and demanded crassly/petulantly to be immediately dealt with, needless to say, I was feeling a bit spent, and excited to finally be able to call a place home.
In any event, my flight path was Chennai -> Mumbai -> Amman -> Tel Aviv. An adventure of sub-continental proportions. I had not heard a word of Hebrew during my time in India, which was very surprising to me considering the number of Israelis that immediately hit the “road” upon their release from the army and backpack it through Southeast Asia. The first words in Hebrew I heard were spoken at the ticketing counter in Bombay. By this point I had grown quite accustomed the pushy Indian throngs and the line-less masses that rush the pitiable, haggard and, often, understandably bellicose service representatives (not that it’s very different in Israel, it’s just a matter of degrees). I befriended the first Israeli a met as we flew together to Amman. He had spent seven months traveling around India and Nepal.
[As a side-note regarding Nepal, I had spent much of my trip in India reading my new favorite book: 'The Inheritance of Loss' by Kiran Desai. The storyline of the book transpires in several places but the geography that Desai illustrated most vividly, that which stood out to me the most, was Kalimpong, a small town in India near Darjeeling on the border of Nepal. While reading the book, though the story and its author were both distinctly Indian in character, something about the rich Nepali literary scenery particularly inspired my imagination. So any reference to Nepal makes me feel as though I can relate, as though I've been there. Truly, the mark of a good author.]
In any event, I arrived in Amman, disembarked from the airplane and boarded the bus that was to take us to the terminal. The bus began on its short and simple path towards the terminal and suddenly made a turn next to another bus and came a bit too close. In short, the window the was above me shattered into a waterfall of shards and fell all over me and my things and the people next to me. We all paused for a minute to stare at the mayhem, the aftermath of the cataclysm on the left side of the bus. We were quickly evacuated and herded onto a second bus, no apologies, no acknowledgment whatsoever that a deluge of glass shards just fell on half a bus-full of passengers… Middle Eastern professionalism at its finest 
So, picking sharp pieces of clear death out of my skin and off my things, I arrived at the passport checkpoint and realized that left both of my passports on the plane (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!). So I encounter the nearest security personal and give them my flight and seat number and tell them of my predicament. Unfortunately, the man only speaks Arabic and we are forced to speak in signing and writing and seek the aid of another security officer with slightly less poor English… My idea of a good time, especially after weeks of being without the tools to communicate with the people around me.
Long story short (or I guess long story long), my passports are returned to me and I make it to Tel Aviv. What an absurd ending to my adventure…
I’ll write again soon. This is a bit of an out-dated post and there’s much more to tell. I’ll do my best to keep this more current in the future.
Love and hugs!
-me
