01 September 2007 -- Back to Beit Sefer

As I compose this post, I am admittedly giddy since tomorrow is the first day of school! (In Hebrew, school is beit sefer, or "house of book.") The careful reader might wonder why we would start school on a Sunday, but then she would remember that I live in Israel, where Sunday is the beginning of the work week. But then when does everyone go to church?!

Actually, the start of school was supposed to be delayed by a teacher strike, but it was called off at the last minute. The union apparently threatens to strike every year -- and this time they really meant it -- but the National Labor Court approved an injunction forbidding such action. What good is a union if it can't choose when to strike? I am in no position to speak on the matter given the fact that I haven't taught a day here yet, but I can already tell that teachers are treated as sub-professionals. I guess I'm here to fix that, huh? Sounds hard. For now, I plan to focus on helping kids conjugate verbs correctly. Of course, that may be an even bigger challenge. We'll see...

On the 23rd of August, I spoke at a Leo Baeck board meeting. Predictably, I forced everyone to switch to English mode, but all seemed amenable. Presenting immediately before me -- my opening act, if you will (which you shouldn't) -- was Amram Mitzna: a major Israeli politician, a general in the army, and currently the mayor of the town where we will probably establish the first KIPP-inspired Leo Baeck school. As head of the left-leaning Labor Party, he aspired to be prime minister (but lost) in 2003. He's sort of an Israeli Al Gore. We'll see if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Either way, it will be fascinating to work with him, I think.

Last weekend I visited Leo Baeck's retreat for incoming tenth-graders. (High school in Israel includes grades ten through twelve.) While it shared some programmatic aspects with other "freshman orientations" I've experienced, it also gave me my first real sense of what people mean when they say, "Israeli schools are very laid-back." Yeah, the kids call the teachers by their first names, but that's just the beginning. For the most part, a group of seniors planned and ran the activities. This was impressive to see, but it led to more chaos and departure from the given schedule than I tend to like. The most jarring experience by far, though, was the Friday night performance. This was an elaborate affair produced entirely by the group of seniors and nominally intended to introduce school norms to the incoming tenth-graders. As the hour of the event approached, dozens of recent Leo Baeck graduates showed up at the venue, hugging teachers and sharing army stories. It became clear that the performance is quite a tradition, but, as I soon found out, not the stodgy, anachronistic kind. The house lights eventually dimmed, ushering in an hour of dancing, skits, and original video footage that were well-orchestrated, occasionally cute, and (through my American eyes) entirely inappropriate. One of the "characters" pretended to smoke a joint throughout the performance; an annual custom had all of the participating senior boys do a Full Monty-style strip-tease (down to underwear); and -- to my puritanical sensibilities the most obscene moment of all -- a video clip paying homage to the school's now-defunct co-ed bathrooms featured a visual suggestion of a female student performing oral sex on two male faculty members simultaneously. No friggin' way! The headmaster (puns welcome) of the Leo Baeck Education Center was a participant in much of the evening's shenanigans, and he appeared to enjoy every minute. While I was certainly taken aback by all of this sanctioned licentiousness, I suppose that it does comfort me a bit to know that my teaching style -- considered quite provocative in previous schools -- won't raise a solitary eyebrow here. In fact, I stand a chance to be perceived as pretty darn prude.

With all this talk of school, I should mention my ulpan (intensive Hebrew course) at the University of Haifa. My class consisted of surprisingly few Jews, and I was the only oleh chadash (new immigrant). Folks were in Israel to study international relations, to do research on deaf Bedouins, and to work with Sudanese refugees, among other reasons. My twelve fellow students represented many nations: Russia, Germany, Poland, the Netherlands, Turkey, Taiwan, and the U.S. of A. It was a rigorous course thanks to Sarahle, our supportive but firm instructor. I am much more conversant now, I can read with moderate fluency (though I often don't understand what I'm reading), and I am beginning to develop my personal take on Hebrew handwriting. Oddly, my biggest challenge is keeping Spanish out of my Hebrew! Ani lo yodea por qué.

The past month has not been all about education, though. I decided to get an authentic taste of Israeli culture and attend the season opener for Maccabi Haifa, the local moadon kaduregel (football club). It's one of the top soccer teams in the country, having won national championships in '01, '02, '04, '05, and '06. The Greens, as they're called, are currently ranked 85th in Europe, which is pretty good for a team that isn't even in Europe. I wanted to fit in, so I bought a bootleg jersey at a Druze street market. When I got to the game, though, I saw no one wearing anything remotely like it. Apparently, I had found the bootleggiest jersey possible. At least it was the right color...sort of. Anyway, I'd never before been to a soccer game in this hemisphere, but I think I was treated to a more-or-less typical experience. The fans were spirited, loyal, indefatigable, and obnoxious. The opposing team was from a small Arab town, and I think half its population came to the game. I couldn't understand enough of the chants to be able to tell if there was an ethnic edge to them. I did learn some important terminology, though:
> Yalla! -- an encouraging "Let's go!" (borrowed from Arabic)
> Nu! -- a more demanding "Come on!" (borrowed from Yiddish)
> Sheet! -- a frustrated "Shit!" (borrowed from English)
In fact, it seems that virtually all Israeli slang comes from these three languages. I learned one additional means of expression, which is illustrated in the photograph section below.

Unfortunately, Haifa lost the game. It was fun, though. Next time will be even better, because I will not go to the visitors' ticket window (as I did this time) and I will know a few things to yell, but I think I'll still wear my unique knock-off jersey. If you're gonna go bootleg, do it like you mean it!

When I wasn't studying or cheering, I did some wandering. I've mentioned before that Haifa is tough to navigate on foot due to the streets' steepness and circuitousness, but that kind of makes it fun. Some neighborhoods are tucked away in dried streambeds, others seem to hang off the mountain, and they all fit together like a raggedy jigsaw puzzle with many missing pieces. I spent some time in Wadi Nisnas, the old Christian Arab section of town. Though a bit shabby, it has some cool street art and, of course, wonderful falafel. Other summer diversions included a visit to the Haifa Museum of Art, a picnic on the beach with the Haifa English Speakers group, a trip to the cinema to see Robotrikim (or Transformers, if you like), and an Israeli gospel concert in the park. Trust me on that last one. It was decent, actually. The encore was a more-than-acceptable version of "Bohemian Rhapsody." Freddie Mercury would have been delighted!

This is my ulpan class. Our teacher, Sarahle, is the one in the back with the red shirt and the almost-as-red hair. We had just finished a pre-exam celebration of our achievements and of the upcoming Rosh Hashana (Jewish New Year). I'm holding a honey-dipped apple to usher in a sweet 5768. Shana tova umetuka!

The jersey may be bootleg, but the Green Pride is 100% genuine, baby!


I sat across from the "Green Apes," Maccabi Haifa's ultra-fans. This was well before game time, and they were already in full swing, enthusiastically chanting something that I believe had to do with the opposing goalie's mother.


Okay, now that I've taught you some Hebrew, it's time for a lesson in body language, which is almost as important here. This is the Israeli middle finger, which, conveniently enough, is actually done with the middle finger. As you can see from my pudgy little hand's demonstration, you basically reverse the American version -- holding the other fingers straight up and pointing your middle finger at whomever you want to insult. Have fun with this, but don't blame me if you get roughed up by an offended Israeli!


Here is an example of the street art in Wadi Nisnas, Haifa's historic Christian Arab neighborhood.


Falafel HaZkenim reputedly serves up Haifa's best fried-chick-pea-balls-in-a-pita. While I haven't sampled every falafel stand in the city (yet), I must testify that this place is pretty darn yummy.