5.1 The quandary in question presented itself after attending a seminar at the Pardes Institute about the 4 sons mentioned in the Haggada (the book used at the Passover seder). There were many failures about this class, and few wins. The teacher was one of the problems. She spoke loudly and quickly, in a most abrasive manner. She also had on very tacky clothes. This is important, because there is a fair chance that post-college adults with varying degrees of Jewish education will be skeptical of a religious woman teaching modern interpretations of Judaism. Your authority on the subject is already questionable, and if you look like a weirdo, we’ll think you’re weird. That’s not fair, but it’s still something which must be accounted for. This lady’s fashion aside, her material was not well-done. Our task was written at the end of the many papers she gave us, so we read through them all without realizing that there was something to look out for. While I strongly support “thinking for yourself” and validating your “feelings,” there is only a limited space for that in serious text study. While coming up with your own thoughts on the text is extremely important, it’s even more important for the teacher to listen to those thoughts, and use them to present something insightful which perhaps her students hadn’t come to on their own. Instead, she briefly listened to the few who were brave enough to share, then shared her own feelings on the subject. Her feelings are valid, but it’s not the teacher’s job to share her feelings. I want something more substantial. As if this wasn’t enough, she had the nerve to completely shoot down a student when she offered her thoughts on the subject at hand; and if that isn’t enough, that student was me! Fuck my life!
This incident raised many questions for me: What kind of a teacher do I want to be? What is the effect of bad teaching? Will I ever be in the position of teaching something I know nothing about, and if so, how did I get into that situation? I really don’t have any answers to these questions, or to the nebulous other doubts I have about my talents in my future profession. All I know is that bad teaching is very bad. I’m sure everyone can remember a bad teacher, and how they hated that teacher’s very existence, and perhaps were unable to satisfactorily complete work for that teacher, among other results.
My first education professor presented his class with a triangle, and at each point was written “teacher,” “students,” “curriculum.” He asked which the most important relationship was between any two of them. Some students argued that the teacher must have a comprehensive understanding of the material in order to effectively teach. This was opposed by people who had experienced very learned teachers who were nasty, unclear, or scattered. Other students suggested that the teacher and students form the strongest bond. Many recalled influential and positive teachers they had had, who had inspired or guided them. The professor argued against this, saying that it wasn’t the teacher’s job to fraternize with the students, nor was it their job to make friends or entertain. The most important relationship, he showed, was that between the students and the curriculum. Only that can lead to effective learning. I can be really enthusiastic about English or linguistics or history or Latin or whatever I end up teaching. I imagine I can win over my students (dear G-d let it be so.) How the f**k am I supposed to make my students care about English? They might do work to please me, or to get a good grade, but can I get them to work for the sake of learning?
5.2.1 On the cab ride to the above-mentioned Passover lecture, we passed an awning which read “Obama Pizza.” I gleefully pointed this out, and the cabbie said in Hebrew that there are lots of things called Obama in Israel now. Also Clinton. “Bush,” he added, “lo zochrim”—we don’t remember.
5.2.2 A friend from Tel Aviv joined me in Jerusalem one day, and we set about to find the view from the Austrian hostel. Her friend had given her directions from the Damascus Gate in the Muslim Quarter. Hundreds of people poured out of the gate, and I felt a close connection to salmon swimming up stream at that moment. We walked through the streets, never quite sure if we were lost yet. An Arab vendor helped me when he saw me struggling to read an Arabic sign, and was quite impressed to find that an American learned Arabic in Uni. He invited us into his store saying that “everything is free.” He only lost interest in us when I gave the excuse that I have to get ready for Shabbat. We miraculously stopped on a corner to look around, and found ourselves quite at the doorsteps of the hostel. We buzzed to get in, and climbed a few flights of stairs through its impressively charming and modest corridors. From the roof we had a close view of the Dome of the Rock in front of the Mt of Olives (covered in graves), and thousands of Jerusalem rooftops.
5.2.3 A few friends and I went to Tel Aviv for the BeKova festival. This is an event in which people perform in front of a crown on the Harbor, and then hold out their hat to collect money. True to my nature, I found the acrobats the best. They dressed up in vaudeville costumes, made suggestive comments over the heads of the children, and performed daring and freakishly flexible and strong moves. I was absolutely charmed. One juggler made quite a few mistakes during his act, but had a 50’s Rock N Roll theme complete with appropriate musical selection, sideburns, and red sparkly pants. I was quite smitten. One lady tied herself up in ropes and fabric at least 20 feet in the air, and absolutely made me gasp. A couple had members of the audience hold up their trapeze as they climbed and tumbled over each other with impressive grace. I love circuses!
5.2.4 There is a Jewish blessing said every 28 years called Birkat HaChamah. The sun is considered to be in the exact location it was the moment of its creation. This is figured out with some complicated math tricks. Most astronomers and mathematicians and even theologians discount this calculation. Regardless, an estimated 50,000 thousand Jews assembled at the Kotel at daybreak to bless the sun. I was there with two of my close friends, and it was quite amazing. Hundreds of Jews came from all directions into the gates of the Old City, and streamed through the ancient streets toward the Wall. The women’s section was expanded. We could not get past the steps after security for lack of space to walk. The morning prayers were broadcast over loudspeakers. Jews from all over the world, speaking many languages, came to experience this rare—if regular-- event. It was the morning before Passover, and I was terribly disappointed to find all the waffle bars closed. We ate at the one restaurant that was open at 8 am. We spent two hours there on account of it being this café’s first day in business. With much of my naptime stolen, I was exhausted at the Passover seder.
5.3 At every Passover seder around the world, they conclude with “Next year in Jerusalem!” This year I was blessed to fulfill that eternal wish. Among the many perks of holidays in Israel, Passover was 7 days long with 2 days of chag, instead of 8 days with 4 days of chag as it is in galus—exile (the rest of the world). I met 7 members of my extended family for the first time, including the 90 year old brother of my grandmother. I spent the night there in Netanya, awakened periodically by the mysterious tappings of my great-uncle’s cane. At 1 I awoke to the sound of shattering glass as a shelf broke in the kitchen.
All sorts of restaurants and grocery stores were open (to me.) Back in Berkeley, there are no kosher for Passover (K-P) restaurants. We eat at home what we can get out of the “Jewish” aisle in Safeway. Lately my parents have been taking long trips to Molly Stone’s to get enough K-P food to sustain them for the 8 days. On Passover we don’t eat bread, or anything resembling bread, or anything that’s touched anything resembling bread. A rabbi recently ruled that everyone is permitted to eat kitniyot (the foods which Ashkenazim don’t eat on Passover but Sephardim do), so I ate kitniyot this year! I got sushi on Passover! I could go to the grocery store and buy anything on the shelves—all the non K-P food was hidden. There were some pizzerias in Tel Aviv offering “kosher for Passover pizza,” but which weren’t even certified kosher in the first place. I was turned away from 2 restaurants in Tel Aviv because they expected so many guests. I was so giddy off of living in a Jewish country that I forgot to check for kosher certification on some items. I accidentally bought non-K-P ice cream at the markolet in Kfar HaStudentim because it’s run by Arabs and they don’t particularly care to turn their store upside down on account of the lunatic laws of Passover.
Passover was pretty painless this year, but I missed my Chabad family in Santa Cruz. I used to spend nearly the whole week there. I relied upon them for my Shabbat and chag meals, and they also gave me dinner during hol hamoed. But hey, why not come a few hours earlier and get lunch, too? I was disappointed that I was unable to make my house sufficiently kosher. I didn’t starve or get constipated (try eating flour crackers for a week!), but I also felt my lack of community.
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