In Which Every Day Begins With a Peacock

I have an announcement. Jerusalem is the center of the world. (I realize that this has nothing to do with a peacock. We will come back to that later).

Anyway, so sayeth the medieval masses. I have written several papers on the subject, and maps such as this one have been proof enough so far (if you ever feel like hitting my "go" button and hearing a lecture while you enjoy a particularly large pizza or do some spring cleaning, ask me for further details):



But now there is conclusive evidence: those in my most immediate circles, who recently were in Bloomington, Indiana and Cfar Saba are cosmically migrating to Jerusalem all at the same time. My father, now head of the history department at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem (though, granted, he beat everyone -- but me -- in his pilgrimage, now beginning his second year in the holy city); my mother, who arrived in Israel about one month ago; and Alon, whose studies begin in October at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. In fact, with the exception of my sister whose Princeton hiatus can hardly count (and since she spent a portion of the summer living in Jerusalem anyway), I am the sole member of my inner familial circle who is currently resisting the crusade and continuing my residential sojourn in Tel Aviv.

Despite the many reasons to move my center to Jerusalem (besides those mentioned, that is where the majority of my musical life happens, so living there would be decidedly easier) I have decided to stay put. There are several factors in this decision (such as the Mediterranean Sea, most importantly!), but the most recent and biggest is as such: I have climbed another rung in the vocational stepladder of life. Did I say rung? I meant storey. Did I stay storey? I meant rocketship.

I am now an employee of the democratic elementary school "Makom Ligdol" in HaKfar HaYarok, Ramat HaSharon, Israel. As they say, when life throws you lemons, you make... well, an expensive and refreshing lemon meringue sorbet, I think. My getting this particular job while still a novice, fired twice and technically unaccredited is the rough equivalent of Stephen Colbert being inaugurated president of the USA. I think this is a fitting analogy, as I see my promotion as equally awesome, and equally frightening.

Why is this such a step up? Let me explain.

In Bat Yam I was teaching classes of almost 40 kids. At the democratic school the biggest class I've had was 16. The smallest was 5.

In Bat Yam I spent 90% of my class time dealing with (or succumbing to) discipline problems. In the democratic school, the kids don't have to be in your class, therefore those who are there want to learn. There are zero discipline problems.

In Bat Yam I wandered nomadically between different classrooms. In the democratic school, there is an English room which I am licensed to decorate and to which I hold the key.

In Bat Yam I was teaching, both full classes and in groups, a total of 29 hours a week. At the democratic school I'm teaching 8. The rest of the time (with the exception of 3 hours in which I open the English room, sit there, and help anyone who wanders in with whatever it is they need) I am sitting with specific students who are in my individual care -- "nechnachim." Now, it is true that I tried once being in charge of a big group of students... but this leads me to the next point:

In Bat Yam I was thrown headfirst into a class of kids I was in charge of. I drowned. In the democratic school, there is no such "class" -- there is a group of eleven students, all of whom chose me to lead them, each of which I sit with one-on-one for twenty minutes a week. We talk, we play, we read together, we stroll around the village, we buy ice cream or visit the horses... whatever we feel like doing. I mother/big sister all of them on a much more individual basis. They are never gathered as a class.

In Bat Yam, both years I worked there, I cried on the first day of school. In the democratic school, I had a big stupid grin on my face for the entire day, and it lasted long after everyone had left and I got home.

In Bat Yam, I never left the school building unless I was on recess supervision duty. In the democratic school, I spend most of my time outside. And as well as kids, there are dogs gamboling around the campus.

In Bat Yam, I personally taught 360+ kids. In the democratic school, there are 76 kids in the entire school.

In Bat Yam, I made less money. At the democratic school I make more money.

In Bat Yam, the kids (not all) were often mean, violent and rude. In the democratic school, they sit in my lap and hug me all day long.

In Bat Yam, I had to go through endless red tape to make copies or obtain resources for my classroom. In the democratic school I have unlimited access to the copy machine and am given anything I ask for.

In Bat Yam all the teachers were lethargic and embittered and over... a certain age. In the democratic school, the teachers are (almost) all in their 30s, energetic, and still enjoy their jobs, and the children. And sweet. And united. And celebrated my birthday four days after knowing me.

I could go on for hours. But I will spare you. :) The bottom line is it's difficult to believe that the job I'm doing this year is the same one I did last year! I feel as though I'm on some cloud, waiting for the real work to begin (which I'm sure it will!). It is not as though I don't foresee any problems. I don't think the year will be all peaches and cream as it has been so far... but the difference is unbelievable.


(Where's the peacock?)

(We haven't gotten there yet. I feel like I'm building an episode of How I Met Your Mother, like the one with the goat. But at least this one will have an explanation. Because I don't suck like they do.)

On a totally different note, yesterday was Yom Kippur. For those who are unfamiliar with this holiday, it is the Jewish Day of Atonement, a fasting day. I myself have fasted on this day since the age of 11, when I decided myself that I really like this tradition and wanted to do it - I was the first in my family to do so, though I have since been joined by both my father and my sister. I really like the idea of a day of reflection, of apology, of uniting with millions worldwide in a common purpose. I identify with tradition much more than with religion, and like the idea of generations of people sharing traditions over hundreds of years. While there is interestingly no law prohibiting citizens of Israel from going about their lives as normal that day, the entire country takes a day of rest, a day of inner reflection, a day of atoning. In my opinion, other cultures would benefit greatly from adopting this custom.

Even a city such as Tel Aviv is rendered motionless for a period of 24 hours. Nothing is open, no cars on the street. Only people promenading and kids on bikes. After our dinner preceding (my) fast, Alon and I walked in the middle of some of the most busy streets in Tel Aviv, at that moment dormant and peaceful. Babies were crawling on the asphalt and dogs were playing together, unleashed. It is truly an amazing time to be in Israel's otherwise noisy and traffic-ridden metropolis. Yom Kippur is subsequently one of my favorite days of the year.

I feel very relaxed and refreshed after such a day!

In other news, this summer CJ experienced the Mediterranean sea for the first time. It was not her first time at the beach; in fact, CJ on sand is already something pretty cute. But it was her first time in the water. She was inexplicably scared at first and it took a great deal of coaxing to get her in. Alon and I crouched down at the very edge of the waves, with the water barely lapping around us, and called her in every way we could think of. We even threw toys in the water for her to chase. Nothing.

Eventually we gave up and started walking away from her into the water, and that was apparently even more scary than the waves because a few seconds later there was a splash, and then a frantically paddling black dog came toward us, wheezing and looking terrified out of her mind. She climbed right up into my lap and wrapped her front paws around my neck. It may have been the cutest and most heartwarming thing I've ever seen, though my legs were for days covered in really impressive bruises and scratches from having a fully grown retriever scramble onto them. I looked like the victim of domestic violence.

After the first time she stood on my lap, she swam back to the shore. Then she repeated this routine at least fifteen times, sometimes standing on us, sometimes circling us in the water and then returning hurriedly to the shore, but each time she jumped right back in again. Eventually she started swimming to other people and other dogs in the water. I think it's safe to say that the little gosling came up swimming!

As funny as this was, though, I'm not sure it beat the time that CJ first met a peacock face to face.

(Aha!)

My school is located inside what is translated as "The Green Village." This village is part of the Ramat HaSharon municipality, but is really its own little ecosystem. There are five schools inside, including a democratic school, an anthroposophic school, a boarding school, a gigantic high school, and a nature school. There is a cow pasture and dairy farm, a horse corral, fields and orchards; there are chickens who cross the road (but will not tell me why!), cats who sunbathe on top of the cars, and dogs who frolic all over; there are countless wonders in the quasi-farmland!

But my first day in the Kfar, I walked past the entrance, and began my trek down the road to the school. Suddenly, behind me, I heard a terrible scream. Startled, and sure someone was in agony, I whirled around. Instead of a crime scene or a hideous accident, I saw a peacock. (Who knew they were so loud??)

It was ambling along, not paying the slightest attention to me. And everyone around continued about their lives, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

Which, apparently, it was.

That same day I saw three more peacocks. Every morning that I arrive at the school, my day begins with a peacock. One time, a peacock even escorted me for a great deal of the walk from the bus to the school campus.

One day, I brought CJ with me to school. She was thrilled, sniffing the area and exploring. Then suddenly, she came upon a peacock.

She stiffened and stood stock still. The peacock was unperturbed, and continued to strut in circles. CJ approached him slowly and apprehensively. Suddenly the peacock turned and looked at her. Quickly and in terror, CJ tore behind me and hid between my legs. Then,moments later, her black nose peered out again and she stalked out, step by step, to examine this creature, her ears perked up and her tail straight out behind her like a blade. This comedy show continued until I reluctantly pulled her along to my school, not to be late.

Here are some photos of the beauties. Sadly I do not have any of CJ meeting her new nemesis because I was too busy holding her to take photos, but I'm sure there will be other opportunities. And with these photos I will close this entry, but I hope to not wait so devilishly long again to write another!