The other day, at lunch, while I was engaged in conversation with a few of my friends, the coordinator of the entire Teach First Israel summer training program (who had been surreptitiously concealed behind some of my colleagues, to where I could not see him) leaned back in his chair and said "so, Shani... what about your blog??" Considering I did not know that he even knew my name, it took me by surprise, but after the initial shock I took it as a pointed sign that it is once again time to update you all on what is going on in my life, beginning of course -- for the gratification of the chotam team, naturally ;) -- with the most pressing and integral part of my current daily routine.
Two weeks ago, ninety young crusaders set out to change the face of education in Israel.
People from the fields of science, language, mathematics, history, geography, biblical studies and several other subjects gathered together, from all corners of the state of Israel, in Haifa University's Student Building Lecture Hall and were introduced to their challenges for the weeks -- months, even years -- ahead.
Since that first day, all ninety of us have immersed ourselves fully in our work. Our days are filled with lecture classes (including youth/adolescent psychology; mainstreaming kids with learning disabilities; familiarization with the Israeli education system; familiarization with national curricula) and applied courses (subject-specific didactics and a hands-on studio in which we learn the practical information, such as how to give a lesson, how to prepare a lesson, how to inspire motivation and how to deal with discipline problems in the classroom). After this, we head back, en masse, to our residence and engage in an evening activity designed to promote critical analysis and introduce us daily to new ideas.
We are currently working to squeeze 2-3 years of education studies into five intensive weeks. For those of you who are mathematically inclined, you will have at this point figured out that such distribution is not possible. Undeterred, however, we -- the "chotamistim" -- continue to absorb and process information, tapping into our jumbled minds every night to try and make some sense of all of the new terminology and conceptual information that we have received over the course of the day. I find that mostly I am building an idea bank, internalizing possible lesson plans and ideas, and trying to categorize everything efficiently enough for it to come in useful on and after September first. I have realized that I can study study study, I can prepare and practice and discuss with my colleagues, I can sit in on lecture after lecture and write endless lesson plans... but nothing in the world can prepare me for the moment I walk into my classroom, shut the door behind me, and find myself face to face with forty Israeli teenagers.
Good luck to us all.
In addition to discussing school-related topics, though, we are also being exposed to relevant yet varying experiences and media. Three days ago we watched the film "Waste Land," an inspiring and touching account of a world-renowned (and therefore wealthy) modern artist who decides to give something back to the underprivileged community using the mundane thing that surrounds them every day -- in this case, garbage. The film is highly recommended, and left me strangely at peace, but the heavy nature of its content forced me begin to feel the weight of the project that I am taking upon myself.
The next morning, our lecture classes were replaced by a collaborative tour entitled "Youth at Risk."
Since we are ninety plus the chotam team, we were split into groups for the tour. My group was lucky enough to visit Haifa's "meitar," a Hebrew acronym indicating a day help center for youth of all different ethnic and socioeconomic backgrounds. We were also the only group that actually got to meet and speak with actual students.
Until we walked in the door and saw the place for ourselves, I could not fully comprehend what the term "youth at risk" actually meant. I knew, of course, always, that there are teenagers that, due to one reason or another, have strayed from the straight, clear path that is frequently drilled into young minds from a very early age -- whether it be due to difficult home conditions, lack of personal motivation, or the 101 other reasons that could contribute to a child's internal struggles. Before Tuesday, however, I had only visited -- and seen for myself -- situations in which a child's earnest ambition is quashed by the lack of appropriate tools or support from his or her surroundings. A child's own ambivalence to success, and even conscious tendency to make bad choices, was something I had heard of but not yet been exposed to.
After taking a tour of the meitar, visiting its many facilities (such as the kitchen, the weight room, the music room, the recording studio, the art studio, and the work room with its eight new computers), our group sat down in the art studio, along with our chotam team representative and the manager of the meitar, and smiled at the seventeen year old boy who agreed -- or was volunteered -- to sit with us and tell us a bit about himself. I am using this particular example (though we spoke to a few others) to illustrate the depth of the experience for me.
The boy spoke freely, smiling and friendly, telling us his name and his age, and a few other details about himself. He told us he had been at the meitar for four years, and that it was a great place to be able to move forward and make friends, and other lasting connections. When asked about his plans for the future, he told us that he planned to join the army (a mandatory and not at all unusual activity in Israel, for those of you who don't know), after which he wanted to make up any school he had missed, pass his exams, and then continue his studies, so he could find a decent job. After he was finished talking, we thanked him and wished him luck, and he left the room.
Then, the manager of the meitar said "as you all know, not a word of what he said is actually going to happen."
Maybe I am naive, maybe I am inclined to always believe in people, maybe it was wishful thinking on my part... but that statement took me by surprise and left me sad and disheartened. But she continued.
The boy in question, at this point having already been under the influence of at least three joints (our meeting with him took place before 11am), has forty five open police records. Some of them are trivial, charted only because his record already exists, such as peeling a logo off of a domestic car and stealing a pack of cigarettes from a kiosk; but others include stabbing, drug dealing, robbery and a number of other crimes that I would rather gloss over than mention in this post. Having no parents or family of his own, he spends every night -- literally -- sleeping on a different city bench, though he does wake himself up every morning and makes his way to the meitar for the feeling of a framework and a structured routine. The manager of the meitar, with whom he's made a personal connection, is the only person that he has in the world that cares for him as a family member would -- but last week he tried to flip a table over onto her head when she asked him if he was high.
Besides this particular youth, there were others whose stories we were also told during our visit. Besides a murderer and several girls between the ages of 12-18 who deal in prostitution, another example is a sixteen year old delinquent with severe gender confusions. I learned that day that there is no institution in Israel that can accommodate multiple problems inherent in youth at risk -- the institution that is designed to help kids through their gender transitions refused to accept him on the grounds of his criminal record; and the meitar, though open to all and happy to help, is not adequately equipped to address any issues related to the boy's sexuality, leaving him confused and dissatisfied.
I left the meitar on Tuesday impressed and inspired by the work that is put into helping these kids achieve success in their own domains, whatever their definition of success may be; but naturally, of course, the nature of the place and its members left me morose and subdued throughout the entire bus ride back to the university (and the rest of the day). While I knew that even if one kid would be able to quit using drugs, or if another would take it upon himself to get a job sweeping the floors in a night club, that those would be considered successes... but all I could think of was that day that I was in Jackson, Louisiana -- the day I decided I wanted to be a teacher -- when kids were falling over themselves to be the first ones to shout out their wildest dreams for the future. As far as I'm concerned, the lack of resources is a problem with a solution, and one to which I am beginning to personally contribute; but the lack of ambition or any kind of a spark is one that is infinitely less penetrable to the outside element who so desperately wants to make a difference. That, to me, was among the most upsetting realizations that I had ever come to.
Now that I have given a healthy spectrum of emotion and information that are part of our chotam training, it's time to move onto happier things before this update draws to a close.
The Music Man closed almost two weeks ago, and was an undeniable success. Good fun, good friends, good reviews and good audiences made every performance more fun than the last (including my very sweet and talented costar who brought me flowers to every single show!). As well as the fun of the show itself, I would like to state that my favorite moment at the farmer's market this morning was when a customer asked for my name, while I was wrapping her flowers... and when I told her what it was, she said "oh, Shani. Yes, I thought so. I want to tell you that I saw you in The Music Man and you were phenomenal."
I love Israel. :)
(I think it's also appropriate to mention at this point that there was a day a few weeks ago that a thirteen year old boy stopped me on the street and said "hey, do you sell flowers at the harbor farmer's market?"... so it goes both ways. And is equally fun in both directions.)
In keeping with the musical theme, though, I got to see one of the world's most iconic sopranos, Renée Fleming (along with the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra under the direction of Zubin Mehta), in concert in Jerusalem last night, thanks to a very generous gift from my dear aunt Nomi. She was, of course, spectacular, both on the standards (including a spine-tingling performance of "Vissi d'arte" from Tosca) and on the more obscure repertoire (such as "J'ai versé le poison" from Massenet's Cléopâtre). Her tenor companion was also very good (though, in my humble opinion, more sleek vocal technique than actual feeling and emotion), and joined her for a few beautiful duets throughout the program.
More astonishingly than her wonderful performance, however, was the forty minutes it took for the concert to end.
Ms. Fleming took three encores and -- 15? I'm not sure, I lost count -- curtain calls. Even beyond this fact, however, one of the encores was completely unexpected, but no less stunning. After "O mio babbino caro" as the first encore, she then glided effortlessly into a belted alto rendition of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah." Seriously? The woman can do anything. What an experience!
The final story I will tell you is one that I can barely believe actually happened.
Two weeks ago, I was sitting in my room, on a Saturday afternoon, packing and trying to mentally prepare for the start of my chotam studies the following morning, when my cell phone rang (which on shabbat in Israel is quite rare, especially since it was a number that my caller ID did not recognize).
I answered. "Hello?" A male voice on the other end said "Hi. Shani?" And once I confirmed that I was, began talking to me like we were old friends.
Not wanting to admit that I had no idea who he was, I went along with it for a bit, waiting for some clue as to his identity, while he asked me questions about how I was feeling and what I was up to. Finally, the small talk ceased, and he said: "Ok. My name is Alon, and I am one of the producers of the Israel edition of the TV show 'The Voice' that is coming to channel 2 this fall. We have heard of you, and wanted to know if you were interested in appearing on the show. If so, we'd like to jump you to the head of the line of 10,000 people who are currently waiting to audition."
...
There is no need to elaborate on my exact reactions to this piece of information; suffice it to say that all of them were extreme. But after the initial shock, I decide to give him the green light, while I remained carefully commitment-free, to go ahead and pass my interest on to those in charge of auditions. (Incidentally, how do I know that I'm currently doing the right thing with my life? I get a phone call, to my cell phone, from channel 2 telling me they've heard of me and want me on TV, and my response is "I don't know if I have time. I'm going to be a teacher.")
For those of you who don't know, The Voice is a reality TV show not unlike American Idol; the difference is, at least as far as they claim, the professional level of the contestants and judges alike, who regard this one as "a cut above" the others. It is literally all about "the voice" -- the judges do not get to actually see the contestant sing until they decide (or not) that they want to be his mentor. The judging panel is comprised of the creme de la creme of the Israeli music world, and it is unbelievable exposure even for those who do not make it past the first episode.
Anyway, to make a long story short, they stayed in touch over the course of the week, and I showed up to my audition on Tuesday evening (yes, the same day as the tour at the meitar -- talk about a long day). Unfortunately, I don't think that I represented myself very well at all, and am doubtful as to my chances of passing it, but whether or not I continue past this level, it makes for a very good -- and remarkably humbling -- story. It would be nice to at least make it to the first episode and get that exposure myself, but I will not be heartbroken if it doesn't work out. It is funny to me that I actively avoid reality TV shows -- ESPECIALLY those about singing -- but was definitely willing to make an exception for those who seek me out!
Anyway, we shall see what happens... and let the chips fall where they may... :)
Seriously, what DOESN'T happen to you?????
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