Some of my best ideas and inspirations happened in college, except that I didn't know how to develop them into something real and long-term. For example, I started taking black and white photographs of the homeless people who lived on the sidewalk near Barnard/Columbia. In exchange for them telling me their life story and allowing me to take their picture, I would give them a hearty lunch (sandwich, fruits, drink etc) and my full attention during the interview.
"Someday," I thought, "this could become a fascinating best-selling book." Well, HONY [Humans of New York] has pretty much taken care of that niche in the market. I follow the site and own the books, and in between loving the content and the impact this project has had, I wonder how I could have done it first.
In college I also took a creative writing course, and one of my favorite (award-winning) stories was the story of The Three Little Pigs, as told from the perspective of the wolf. In my short story, the wolf was a rapper on MTV, with asthma; no apologies from me vis a vis the back story, it was the 80's.
This past Friday, at the library with Raphaela to get our weekend reading, we took out a children's book called The True Story of the Three Little Pigs, as told from the perspective of the wolf. In it, the wolf explains how he was framed because all he had was a powerful sneeze, and that he was visiting his neighbors the pigs to borrow a cup of sugar, to bake a cake for his grandmother; a reference presumably to the wolf who eats Little Red Riding Hood's grandmother in another gruesome fairy tale. The premise of the book, which is less for children than for their cynical and hip parents, is that the media had to hype the story and make him look like the Big Bad, because the birthday cake angle doesn't sell papers.
We have a similar children's book, a gift from a cousin, called Click Clack Moo, Cows that Type, which I feel is written as much for the parents as well as the kids. The book describes, using animals as a substitute for humans (how very George Orwell), how effective blackmail works if used intelligently. My mother hates this story and will not read it to my daughter, because she feels it teaches children how to be manipulative and be rewarded for it.
I can see her point, children these days are more savvy, and their books are written accordingly. On the other hand, it is a funny book and the illustrations work well, and while my daughter may be bright, I don't know how much she reads into the subtext beyond the slapstick.
On Sesame Street, Cookie Monster is enrolled in a 12-step program for his impulse control issues, Elmo may as well be taking Ritalin, and Telly is probably on anti-depressants. Snuffy was revealed to the rest of the street over fear that children may not tell their parents that they are being abused, because no one would believe them. Katy Perry appeared on the children's educational program half-naked, and I don't remember there being any outcry from parents. We're not in Kansas anymore...
Raphaela and I recently finished reading The Little Prince together, and as I was bawling and feeling my entire understanding of the Universe deepen, she did not venture beyond the basic story IE plane gets fixed, Little Prince goes home to his flower, man is sad.
As a person who was quite naïve until I left for college, I wonder if we are raising this 21rst Century of children better, or if we are denying them some aspect of that idyllic youth, by exposing them to reality too early.
Showing posts with label reading. Show all posts
Showing posts with label reading. Show all posts
Sunday, January 3, 2016
Monday, June 15, 2015
Raphaela in Wonderland
When I picked up Raphaela from school yesterday, she handed me a birthday card, and all the staff of the Kindergarten wished me a "Mazal tov!" The Head Teacher came over to me and said that a "little bird" had told her that I was celebrating my birthday.
"Yes," I replied, "one month from now..."
Quick on the recovery, Raphaela jumped in and said, "Very well then Mommy, Happy Un-birthday! It will be your un-birthday every day until we get to the real one."
"Yes," I replied, "one month from now..."
Quick on the recovery, Raphaela jumped in and said, "Very well then Mommy, Happy Un-birthday! It will be your un-birthday every day until we get to the real one."
Thursday, June 4, 2015
Light Festival 2015
Last year, I hired a sitter to watch Raphaela while I attended the Light Festival in the Old City of Jerusalem. I regretted not taking her with me, because there were so many activities geared toward children, in addition to the performances and the beautiful displays.
This year I decided that despite it being a school night, and though I was not sure if Raphaela could handle the late night trip, we journeyed to the Old City. As we get closer to the Summer vacation and further away from Kindergarten, an exception here and there of staying up late seems harmless enough. I brought an entire picnic just in case my daughter needed to refuel.
Raphaela ended up surprising me, walking around for almost three hours with no complaints of fatigue or sore legs. There was something magical, very Alice in Wonderland, with all four quarters (Arab, Christian, Jewish, Armenian) lit up and decorated, and with pockets of live music in almost every corner. I told her that because she had dealt so well with this outing, I would schedule the late-night safari at the Jerusalem Biblical Zoo for later during the Summer.
Raphaela is growing up so fast.
Ironically, the most spectacular vision of the night was wholly natural, and put the rest of the man-made exhibits to shame: an astounding moon-rise over Jerusalem, a full yellow moon that filled the sky for over three minutes.
This year I decided that despite it being a school night, and though I was not sure if Raphaela could handle the late night trip, we journeyed to the Old City. As we get closer to the Summer vacation and further away from Kindergarten, an exception here and there of staying up late seems harmless enough. I brought an entire picnic just in case my daughter needed to refuel.
Raphaela ended up surprising me, walking around for almost three hours with no complaints of fatigue or sore legs. There was something magical, very Alice in Wonderland, with all four quarters (Arab, Christian, Jewish, Armenian) lit up and decorated, and with pockets of live music in almost every corner. I told her that because she had dealt so well with this outing, I would schedule the late-night safari at the Jerusalem Biblical Zoo for later during the Summer.
Raphaela is growing up so fast.
Ironically, the most spectacular vision of the night was wholly natural, and put the rest of the man-made exhibits to shame: an astounding moon-rise over Jerusalem, a full yellow moon that filled the sky for over three minutes.
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
First Grade Prep Class
Raphaela has begun a preparation course for First Grade, given by the school itself toward the purpose of observing the girls who will enter their halls next year socially, and to get a sense of their incoming levels of things like phonics and math. Eight sessions in total, four of which for the parents as well, to help us help our child adapt to this crucial academic transition.
I think this is a good idea, mostly because Raphaela will have explored the halls of the building with friends old and new, it will not be scary and new. The activities they seem to have done so far, as well as the little presents they have received from the teacher in charge, have only encouraged Raphaela that First Grade will be a fun and enlightening experience. The way my daughter bounded out to me after that first session, smiling from ear to ear, I have not seen her this jazzed in a long time. Hearing her say with confidence, "I'm a big girl, I am a First Grade girl!", it only reaffirms my gut instinct that I made the right choice.
I truly believe that the moment Raphaela can read, the core focus of First Grade, the entire Universe will open up to her.
The Gan psychologist called me this morning, three months after I had put in a request to have an official Ministry of Education assessment done vis a vis First Grade. When I told her that that ship had sailed, that train had left the station, etc. she seemed puzzled and disappointed. I reminded her that we only had until April to make the final decision, and she should have done this assessment ages ago, if she really meant to help. The psychologist's response? "Well, I was busy..."
This morning Raphaela reminded me, without my saying a word, that she had another prep class this afternoon, and that we have to bring her workbook. She is remembering her so-called homework on her own initiative, that is a very good sign in my book.
Post-script: The teacher of Raphaela's Nature Class, a woman with years of experience in the Israeli school system, has severe objections to this preparatory class, and to the pressure in general on children at an early age, in First Grade. She made the analogy of taking a beautiful butterfly and crushing it in your fist, trying to control and corral the natural creative tendencies of Raphaela and kids like her. I pray to G-d she is wrong in this case, I am comfortable and happy with my choice of educational institutions.
I would hate to think that I am crushing Raphaela's spirit and potential.
I think this is a good idea, mostly because Raphaela will have explored the halls of the building with friends old and new, it will not be scary and new. The activities they seem to have done so far, as well as the little presents they have received from the teacher in charge, have only encouraged Raphaela that First Grade will be a fun and enlightening experience. The way my daughter bounded out to me after that first session, smiling from ear to ear, I have not seen her this jazzed in a long time. Hearing her say with confidence, "I'm a big girl, I am a First Grade girl!", it only reaffirms my gut instinct that I made the right choice.
I truly believe that the moment Raphaela can read, the core focus of First Grade, the entire Universe will open up to her.
The Gan psychologist called me this morning, three months after I had put in a request to have an official Ministry of Education assessment done vis a vis First Grade. When I told her that that ship had sailed, that train had left the station, etc. she seemed puzzled and disappointed. I reminded her that we only had until April to make the final decision, and she should have done this assessment ages ago, if she really meant to help. The psychologist's response? "Well, I was busy..."
This morning Raphaela reminded me, without my saying a word, that she had another prep class this afternoon, and that we have to bring her workbook. She is remembering her so-called homework on her own initiative, that is a very good sign in my book.
Post-script: The teacher of Raphaela's Nature Class, a woman with years of experience in the Israeli school system, has severe objections to this preparatory class, and to the pressure in general on children at an early age, in First Grade. She made the analogy of taking a beautiful butterfly and crushing it in your fist, trying to control and corral the natural creative tendencies of Raphaela and kids like her. I pray to G-d she is wrong in this case, I am comfortable and happy with my choice of educational institutions.
I would hate to think that I am crushing Raphaela's spirit and potential.
Sunday, November 23, 2014
This morning, Raphaela's first mumbled words after she woke up: "I am going to make a good Mommy some day."
And on the way to school, with the Jerusalem morning traffic of cars on their way to work and school and life, "We have to find another place to live, this pollution is awful. Maybe we will go find the Lorax and live there, where the air is clean."
And on the way to school, with the Jerusalem morning traffic of cars on their way to work and school and life, "We have to find another place to live, this pollution is awful. Maybe we will go find the Lorax and live there, where the air is clean."
Friday, October 10, 2014
Creating Awareness and Opening Worlds
I grew up within a New York Ultra-Orthodox community, though our house adhered to a slightly less stringent more "Modern Orthodox" lifestyle. In practical terms, it meant that while we were fully committed to the principles of Judaism and the Torah, we also functioned in and enjoyed the real secular world. My father and mother worked, television and movies were a given, my mother did not cover her hair except to go to synagogue or perhaps a religious event, we took family vacations which included playing tennis (in shorts) and mixed swimming, and a college education would never be sacrificed for any reason.
As I grew up, in an attempt to define themselves more clearly, American Jewry moved to the right and I remained in the same place, I felt comfortable in myself, essentially proclaiming myself de facto as less religious, more in the realm of "Conservadox" (or Masorti in Israel), more open minded and tolerant than some in my family.
But I decry boxes of any kind, and try not to apply labels under any circumstance. Every religion on the planet seems to be veering towards the extremes, and I find that both sad and terrifying.
In deciding upon the education of Raphaela, I wanted her to be exposed to the traditions, ritual and values in which I was raised, and so I have chosen to send her to the Nationalist Zionist Religious stream of kindergartens and schools. She can always create a course for herself when she matures and does not live in my house. At the same time, I take great pains to point out the importance of acceptance without judgment, teaching her that there is always more than one opinion and more than one way to interpret the word of law. God is a being of love and mercy, he/she is not waiting with a box of fresh lightning bolts to punish us at every mere thought or mis-step.
This mis-match between our home and her school came to a head this weekend, when Raphaela was helping me set the table for Shabbat. She put out three chairs, one for me, one for her and one for "the father," whose stand in was her favorite spotted leopard doll. When it was time to cook, and make the blessing on the candles, it was clear that this is a woman's job, and when it came time to make the blessing on the wine and the bread, the fire works started. My daughter, the child of a single mother and feminist, insisted that it was preferable for the imaginary father/leopard to take charge, because it was "the man's job."
I explained that in many families, Orthodox or otherwise, a wider and more fulfilling role has been found for the woman, and that God would not mind at all if Mommy made the blessings, considering that we have a special arrangement IE in that at the moment, there is not father actively living with us. Raphaela did not buy it, unfortunately, and it will be my responsibility to open her eyes; treading that very fine and dangerous line without saying outright that her teachers are not infallible.
My girl child must know that the only real limits on her life and her personal growth are the ones she places on herself.
As I grew up, in an attempt to define themselves more clearly, American Jewry moved to the right and I remained in the same place, I felt comfortable in myself, essentially proclaiming myself de facto as less religious, more in the realm of "Conservadox" (or Masorti in Israel), more open minded and tolerant than some in my family.
But I decry boxes of any kind, and try not to apply labels under any circumstance. Every religion on the planet seems to be veering towards the extremes, and I find that both sad and terrifying.
In deciding upon the education of Raphaela, I wanted her to be exposed to the traditions, ritual and values in which I was raised, and so I have chosen to send her to the Nationalist Zionist Religious stream of kindergartens and schools. She can always create a course for herself when she matures and does not live in my house. At the same time, I take great pains to point out the importance of acceptance without judgment, teaching her that there is always more than one opinion and more than one way to interpret the word of law. God is a being of love and mercy, he/she is not waiting with a box of fresh lightning bolts to punish us at every mere thought or mis-step.
This mis-match between our home and her school came to a head this weekend, when Raphaela was helping me set the table for Shabbat. She put out three chairs, one for me, one for her and one for "the father," whose stand in was her favorite spotted leopard doll. When it was time to cook, and make the blessing on the candles, it was clear that this is a woman's job, and when it came time to make the blessing on the wine and the bread, the fire works started. My daughter, the child of a single mother and feminist, insisted that it was preferable for the imaginary father/leopard to take charge, because it was "the man's job."
I explained that in many families, Orthodox or otherwise, a wider and more fulfilling role has been found for the woman, and that God would not mind at all if Mommy made the blessings, considering that we have a special arrangement IE in that at the moment, there is not father actively living with us. Raphaela did not buy it, unfortunately, and it will be my responsibility to open her eyes; treading that very fine and dangerous line without saying outright that her teachers are not infallible.
My girl child must know that the only real limits on her life and her personal growth are the ones she places on herself.
Thursday, September 11, 2014
It's the Little Things
This morning I went to take a shower and left Raphaela to her own devices. As long as she doesn't burn the house down I am good to go. When I came out of the shower, I heard her "reading" from memory the entire text of Dr. Seuss's classic The Cat in the Hat. When I asked her what she was doing, she said, "I am reading my favorite book to my friends."
You've never heard a great rendition of this book until you've heard it in the cutest Israeli accent.
==================================================================
After dropping Raphaela off at Gan, I happened to pass by her most excellent nursery teacher (H) from last year, she works in the same building as Raphaela's classroom this year. H casually mentioned to me, "I heard that Raphaela is adapting really beautifully to her Kindergarten this year."
That's enough to keep me smiling all day.
You've never heard a great rendition of this book until you've heard it in the cutest Israeli accent.
==================================================================
After dropping Raphaela off at Gan, I happened to pass by her most excellent nursery teacher (H) from last year, she works in the same building as Raphaela's classroom this year. H casually mentioned to me, "I heard that Raphaela is adapting really beautifully to her Kindergarten this year."
That's enough to keep me smiling all day.
Thursday, June 5, 2014
A Day in the Life
Day three of the completely superfluous five-day Shavuot vacation from school.
3:30 am, Harry decides that we need to talk. I remind him that I do not have to take Raphaela to Gan today, and that I am planning on sleeping in.
5:30 am, Raphaela decides that we need to wake up. I remind her (and Harry, again) that I do not have to get out of the house on a regular schedule, and would really LOVE to sleep in.
6 am, I understand that I am not going to be sleeping in.
6-8:30 am, Feed Harry breakfast, feed the fish, take Harry outside and feed his friends. Play with Raphaela, eat breakfast, take a shower, get dressed, help Raphaela get dressed. Start one load of laundry, darks.
8:30-11 am, Hadassah Hospital (Ein Kerem) at the Mother and Baby wing, where Raphaela's eyes are examined by an expert pediatric ophthalmologist, who reports that Raphaela should start wearing glasses now, today, in order to get a decent resolution before she starts First Grade, almost two years from now. The Polish heritage in me starts to feel guilty for having passed on lousy genes.
11:15 am, Arrive home, start Raphaela's lunch, put washer into dryer, attempt to set up Raphaela's follow up appointment through the hospital, only to be told that their first available spot seems to be eight months from now. At least I have a half hour before my baby sitter arrives, and 45 minutes before my first patient arrives.
11:20 am, My first patient arrives super duper [G-d damnit!] early, along with her daughter-in-law and three children. I want to scream but I hold myself back; all children do not have school today, not just my daughter.
11:45 am, The baby sitter arrives, exactly on time. She asks me if she is expected to take care of the four children seated in the living room and playing together, in which case she is charging me extra.
12-3:30 pm, In which I work as a Chiropractor, fold laundry as a Mom, make phone calls and snarf in lunch in my five free minutes.
3:30-5 pm, Raphaela and I take the bus into the center of town, to order her eye glasses. She tries on about thirty pairs, looks fabulously chic in all of them, and we settle on the reddish frames that do not seem to fall off her "small nose." (According to the optometrist.) I then explain that genetically speaking, while Raphaela received my ears and my lips and my eyes, the shape of her face and her cute little button nose come from her father.
5-5:30 pm, We take our weekly pre-weekend trip to the library, to refresh the reading material in the house for Shabbat.
6 pm, Raphaela takes a bath and I practically fall asleep watching her.
7:30 pm, Raphaela falls asleep in the first line of [the bed time prayer] Shema Yisrael. Actively snoring...
Good thing we have another day of vacation tomorrow.
3:30 am, Harry decides that we need to talk. I remind him that I do not have to take Raphaela to Gan today, and that I am planning on sleeping in.
5:30 am, Raphaela decides that we need to wake up. I remind her (and Harry, again) that I do not have to get out of the house on a regular schedule, and would really LOVE to sleep in.
6 am, I understand that I am not going to be sleeping in.
6-8:30 am, Feed Harry breakfast, feed the fish, take Harry outside and feed his friends. Play with Raphaela, eat breakfast, take a shower, get dressed, help Raphaela get dressed. Start one load of laundry, darks.
8:30-11 am, Hadassah Hospital (Ein Kerem) at the Mother and Baby wing, where Raphaela's eyes are examined by an expert pediatric ophthalmologist, who reports that Raphaela should start wearing glasses now, today, in order to get a decent resolution before she starts First Grade, almost two years from now. The Polish heritage in me starts to feel guilty for having passed on lousy genes.
11:15 am, Arrive home, start Raphaela's lunch, put washer into dryer, attempt to set up Raphaela's follow up appointment through the hospital, only to be told that their first available spot seems to be eight months from now. At least I have a half hour before my baby sitter arrives, and 45 minutes before my first patient arrives.
11:20 am, My first patient arrives super duper [G-d damnit!] early, along with her daughter-in-law and three children. I want to scream but I hold myself back; all children do not have school today, not just my daughter.
11:45 am, The baby sitter arrives, exactly on time. She asks me if she is expected to take care of the four children seated in the living room and playing together, in which case she is charging me extra.
12-3:30 pm, In which I work as a Chiropractor, fold laundry as a Mom, make phone calls and snarf in lunch in my five free minutes.
3:30-5 pm, Raphaela and I take the bus into the center of town, to order her eye glasses. She tries on about thirty pairs, looks fabulously chic in all of them, and we settle on the reddish frames that do not seem to fall off her "small nose." (According to the optometrist.) I then explain that genetically speaking, while Raphaela received my ears and my lips and my eyes, the shape of her face and her cute little button nose come from her father.
5-5:30 pm, We take our weekly pre-weekend trip to the library, to refresh the reading material in the house for Shabbat.
6 pm, Raphaela takes a bath and I practically fall asleep watching her.
7:30 pm, Raphaela falls asleep in the first line of [the bed time prayer] Shema Yisrael. Actively snoring...
Good thing we have another day of vacation tomorrow.
Friday, February 21, 2014
Theology 101
When I was about ten years old, I very distinctly recall asking the Rabbi of our local synagogue the following question: "God created us, but who gave birth to God?"
The Rabbi stammered for five minutes, and quoted several lines from the Hebrew prayer "Adon Olam" [translated as Master of the World] including, "God has been, is now and always will be." Then he sent me off to my father.
I remember thinking that the answer was shoddy at best, and if the Rabbi had said to me, "Great question, I wish I had a full answer that would satisfy your intelligence and curiosity, but I don't. God is, always has been, way before you or I were born. And there are mysteries of the Universe that we cannot fully understand in our limited human capacity." At least he would have been honest to me and to himself.
The Rabbi may as well have quoted Monty Python (Meaning of Life) to me: "Oh Lord, you are so great. And really really big...We're all very impressed down here."
Walking home from Gan yesterday, Raphaela and I had one of our more deep conversations:
RR: Mommy, Hashem knows everything, right?
Me: Yes.
RR: And you know everything, right?
Me: (emphatically) No I do not, I know a lot of things, and at the moment I know more about the world than you do. But I do not know everything and I am just as human as the rest, I will make mistakes and so will you.
RR: Does Hashem take care of everyone or only Good People?
Me: Hashem created all of us, and because we are all his children, he loves us all the time, even if we are not behaving nicely, and he takes care of all of us.
(I then reminded Raphaela that on Pessach we take away some of our wine to remember all the Egyptians who were killed, knowing that just because they enslaved us, they were also God's children and God loved them too.)
RR: But Hashem punishes Bad People.
Me: Life is not about reward and punishment, everything that happens to us is there to teach us something. Good People will not always get great things, and Bad People will not always get terrible things. Everything that happens to us is there to help us become better and kinder to each other.
RR: But Hashem prefers it if we behave nicely, right?
Me: Absolutely.
Loving this age...
The Rabbi stammered for five minutes, and quoted several lines from the Hebrew prayer "Adon Olam" [translated as Master of the World] including, "God has been, is now and always will be." Then he sent me off to my father.
I remember thinking that the answer was shoddy at best, and if the Rabbi had said to me, "Great question, I wish I had a full answer that would satisfy your intelligence and curiosity, but I don't. God is, always has been, way before you or I were born. And there are mysteries of the Universe that we cannot fully understand in our limited human capacity." At least he would have been honest to me and to himself.
The Rabbi may as well have quoted Monty Python (Meaning of Life) to me: "Oh Lord, you are so great. And really really big...We're all very impressed down here."
Walking home from Gan yesterday, Raphaela and I had one of our more deep conversations:
RR: Mommy, Hashem knows everything, right?
Me: Yes.
RR: And you know everything, right?
Me: (emphatically) No I do not, I know a lot of things, and at the moment I know more about the world than you do. But I do not know everything and I am just as human as the rest, I will make mistakes and so will you.
RR: Does Hashem take care of everyone or only Good People?
Me: Hashem created all of us, and because we are all his children, he loves us all the time, even if we are not behaving nicely, and he takes care of all of us.
(I then reminded Raphaela that on Pessach we take away some of our wine to remember all the Egyptians who were killed, knowing that just because they enslaved us, they were also God's children and God loved them too.)
RR: But Hashem punishes Bad People.
Me: Life is not about reward and punishment, everything that happens to us is there to teach us something. Good People will not always get great things, and Bad People will not always get terrible things. Everything that happens to us is there to help us become better and kinder to each other.
RR: But Hashem prefers it if we behave nicely, right?
Me: Absolutely.
Loving this age...
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
Birthday Priorities
With Raphaela counting down the hours until her Hebrew birthday tomorrow, she asked me this morning when we would be making a birthday party at Gan. I explained to her that because all the school are currently on vacation, I would not arrange it with her teacher and with her English Camp until after this series of Jewish holidays. I added that my parents, her grandparents, were due to visit in less than a month, and that I wanted to wait for them to arrive in Israel, so they could share in the fun of the event.
Raphaela looked at me very seriously and said, "But I get a present tomorrow, right?"
[For the record, I have bought her what my friend laughingly calls a "Mommy present," a set of educational playing cards whose devious plan is to teach reading and early math. My daughter has already begun to read and loves books, and the cards feature some of her favorite fictional characters, so I know she will love it.]
Raphaela looked at me very seriously and said, "But I get a present tomorrow, right?"
[For the record, I have bought her what my friend laughingly calls a "Mommy present," a set of educational playing cards whose devious plan is to teach reading and early math. My daughter has already begun to read and loves books, and the cards feature some of her favorite fictional characters, so I know she will love it.]
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
New Gan II
Headline, front page, this morning's Israeli papers (27/8/13)
GOOD LUCK!
The 2013-14 school year opens today: 2,129,562 children and youth start nursery and elementary school today
The Minister of Education says, "Today is a holiday, excitement is in the air."
The next vacation? Next Week [Rosh HaShanah]
==================================================================
For the past several days, Raphaela has been sleeping with her new back pack and water bottle, bought specially for the start of the new school year. Last night she got ten hours of sleep, while I could not fall asleep until almost midnight because of nervous excitement.
Raphaela's first day at the new Gan began with the security guard at the gate (Benni) handing each child a heart-shaped chocolate. Only in Israel...
Her class has 34 children, and she is one of the older children, one of the "first birthday parties of the year." At least half of her classmates are bilingual Hebrew/English, and have at least one native English-speaking parent.
Three of her classmates from this past year join her, as well as two children from the Montessori Gan, which Raphaela attended for two years. As well, three other children she knows will attend the afternoon English program.
The class room is bright and airy, and we spent the morning sampling the toys books and puzzles in every corner. I will admit that I had a few emotional moments, realizing that Raphaela has matured so much in the last year, and that today represents a milestone for both of us.
Raphaela has one energetic head teacher and two assistant teachers. Normally there would be only one assistant nursery teacher, but because there are at least two children who have food sensitivities and allergies, they assigned a separate medically trained assistant teacher to the classroom. It is the responsibility of the individual families, the Jerusalem Municipality and the nursery staff to make sure that no one goes into anaphylactic shock.
Given the recent push by the Ministry of Health for all children under the age of nine to receive the Oral Polio Vaccine, we explored the bathroom and I reminded Raphaela to be sure to wash her hands. It's natural, children in nursery will expose each other, and the more hygienic the safer.
The children participated beautifully in their first morning meeting, and the parents seems lovely as well. We have already begun to organize a time-saving and aggravation- avoiding program: to arrange for a healthy breakfast to be provided at the nursery and by the nursery, rather than having to pack a bag full of snacks each morning.
Indeed, today is a day of celebration for mothers and fathers (who briefly get their lives back, before the Jewish holidays) and for the kids, who get to meet a new group of friends and experience the routine they crave.
GOOD LUCK!
The 2013-14 school year opens today: 2,129,562 children and youth start nursery and elementary school today
The Minister of Education says, "Today is a holiday, excitement is in the air."
The next vacation? Next Week [Rosh HaShanah]
==================================================================
For the past several days, Raphaela has been sleeping with her new back pack and water bottle, bought specially for the start of the new school year. Last night she got ten hours of sleep, while I could not fall asleep until almost midnight because of nervous excitement.
Raphaela's first day at the new Gan began with the security guard at the gate (Benni) handing each child a heart-shaped chocolate. Only in Israel...
Her class has 34 children, and she is one of the older children, one of the "first birthday parties of the year." At least half of her classmates are bilingual Hebrew/English, and have at least one native English-speaking parent.
Three of her classmates from this past year join her, as well as two children from the Montessori Gan, which Raphaela attended for two years. As well, three other children she knows will attend the afternoon English program.
The class room is bright and airy, and we spent the morning sampling the toys books and puzzles in every corner. I will admit that I had a few emotional moments, realizing that Raphaela has matured so much in the last year, and that today represents a milestone for both of us.
Raphaela has one energetic head teacher and two assistant teachers. Normally there would be only one assistant nursery teacher, but because there are at least two children who have food sensitivities and allergies, they assigned a separate medically trained assistant teacher to the classroom. It is the responsibility of the individual families, the Jerusalem Municipality and the nursery staff to make sure that no one goes into anaphylactic shock.
Given the recent push by the Ministry of Health for all children under the age of nine to receive the Oral Polio Vaccine, we explored the bathroom and I reminded Raphaela to be sure to wash her hands. It's natural, children in nursery will expose each other, and the more hygienic the safer.
The children participated beautifully in their first morning meeting, and the parents seems lovely as well. We have already begun to organize a time-saving and aggravation- avoiding program: to arrange for a healthy breakfast to be provided at the nursery and by the nursery, rather than having to pack a bag full of snacks each morning.
Indeed, today is a day of celebration for mothers and fathers (who briefly get their lives back, before the Jewish holidays) and for the kids, who get to meet a new group of friends and experience the routine they crave.
Saturday, August 10, 2013
"Mommy, Superman and Spiderman are brothers, right?"
(I hear the rationale, they both have "Man" as a last name and they help people in trouble...though I think it's time I helped Raphaela understand that we are a DC comics family, not Marvel. Really, almost every Marvel character received his/her superpowers via exposure to radiation, a throwback to fears of the Cold War and the nuclear threat. How uninspired and lazy.)
(I hear the rationale, they both have "Man" as a last name and they help people in trouble...though I think it's time I helped Raphaela understand that we are a DC comics family, not Marvel. Really, almost every Marvel character received his/her superpowers via exposure to radiation, a throwback to fears of the Cold War and the nuclear threat. How uninspired and lazy.)
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
Fasting and Remembering
What to do on the Jewish fast day of Tisha B'Av, the most somber of the memorial days in which we mourn for the Temple in Jerusalem and for the destruction of the Jewish community in ancient Israel.
Personally I could have taken the day to stay in bed and rest, but with a four year old who has a day off from Gan, that is hardly possible. In between preparing food for Raphaela while fasting, she and I found ourselves with very little structure and lots of time.
I pulled out the photo albums, all of them, and I told my daughter stories; about my life as a single person, about our extended family, about being pregnant with her and about the adventures we have had together since she came on the scene. Perhaps this represents the meaningful interpretation for this sad day, reminding ourselves that we are loved and that we must care for each other, as Jews and as fellow human beings.
Afterwards, Raphaela asked if we could go to the local bakery, where she intended on ordering "the usual" IE a passion fruit slushie and two chocolate chip cookies. I reminded her that today is a sad day and that Mommy is fasting. Raphaela understood and said that tomorrow would be a happier day for the Temple and Jerusalem, and we could both eat cookies at the bakery.
Personally I could have taken the day to stay in bed and rest, but with a four year old who has a day off from Gan, that is hardly possible. In between preparing food for Raphaela while fasting, she and I found ourselves with very little structure and lots of time.
I pulled out the photo albums, all of them, and I told my daughter stories; about my life as a single person, about our extended family, about being pregnant with her and about the adventures we have had together since she came on the scene. Perhaps this represents the meaningful interpretation for this sad day, reminding ourselves that we are loved and that we must care for each other, as Jews and as fellow human beings.
Afterwards, Raphaela asked if we could go to the local bakery, where she intended on ordering "the usual" IE a passion fruit slushie and two chocolate chip cookies. I reminded her that today is a sad day and that Mommy is fasting. Raphaela understood and said that tomorrow would be a happier day for the Temple and Jerusalem, and we could both eat cookies at the bakery.
Saturday, July 13, 2013
In the heat of the Israeli Summer, Raphaela goes to sleep with a full set of pajamas and they somehow disappear by the morning. The long days have not changed her predilection for the early hours, and our day starts between five and five thirty am.
Raphaela: (Looking bleary eyed and wearing only her birthday suit, comes into my room and wakes me up) Mommy, I have to get dressed!
Me: (Bleary eyed and vaguely annoyed) It's not a rush, after all, it's not like we have a party to attend at this hour.
Raphaela: (Eyes brightening) Oh, not so! We must get ready for the birthday party!
Me: Whose birthday party?
Raphaela: The vowels, it's their birthday.
Within five minutes she returned, fully clothed in a party dress and her fancy Shabbat shoes; pulling off my covers, she chastised me for my slothfulness, "Nu nu, are you ready yet for the party?"
This child will keep me young, and thank goodness for that.
Raphaela: (Looking bleary eyed and wearing only her birthday suit, comes into my room and wakes me up) Mommy, I have to get dressed!
Me: (Bleary eyed and vaguely annoyed) It's not a rush, after all, it's not like we have a party to attend at this hour.
Raphaela: (Eyes brightening) Oh, not so! We must get ready for the birthday party!
Me: Whose birthday party?
Raphaela: The vowels, it's their birthday.
Within five minutes she returned, fully clothed in a party dress and her fancy Shabbat shoes; pulling off my covers, she chastised me for my slothfulness, "Nu nu, are you ready yet for the party?"
This child will keep me young, and thank goodness for that.
Friday, July 5, 2013
Reading Material
When my brother and I were young, we would eat our breakfast with cereal boxes in front of our noses, fascinating and essential reading.
Raphaela and I have begun a new tradition with our morning cereal: I bought a 2012-2013 calendar from the Metropolitan Museum in New York, and each day we change the picture to see and learn about the day's work of art, a sampling of the vast collection of the place that was my second home when I lived in The City.
Yesterday featured a 1904 Stickley Brothers Cabinet, made of oak wood cedar and mahogany, and with two beautiful stained glass windows for the doors. They don't make furniture like this anymore, and I certainly could not find a pure wood closet at the local Israeli IKEA.
I asked Raphaela what she would place inside a cabinet like this, and I taught her a little about the art of stained glass. Then Raphaela said, "I like this so much. Mommy, after you drop me off at Gan tomorrow, can you go buy me a cabinet like this?"
Sure, my child, as soon as I step into my Tardis...
Raphaela and I have begun a new tradition with our morning cereal: I bought a 2012-2013 calendar from the Metropolitan Museum in New York, and each day we change the picture to see and learn about the day's work of art, a sampling of the vast collection of the place that was my second home when I lived in The City.
Yesterday featured a 1904 Stickley Brothers Cabinet, made of oak wood cedar and mahogany, and with two beautiful stained glass windows for the doors. They don't make furniture like this anymore, and I certainly could not find a pure wood closet at the local Israeli IKEA.
I asked Raphaela what she would place inside a cabinet like this, and I taught her a little about the art of stained glass. Then Raphaela said, "I like this so much. Mommy, after you drop me off at Gan tomorrow, can you go buy me a cabinet like this?"
Sure, my child, as soon as I step into my Tardis...
Monday, July 1, 2013
English-Free Zone?
Although Gan for Raphaela officially ends on August 4th this year, July begins the season of Summer, the season of camp and the "Great Vacation." From what I understand, Raphaela has the same teachers and the same basic schedule but they change it up a little, so the staff and the kids can get through the next month.
The manager of the Gan specifically approached me to let me know that in honor of the Great Vacation they had introduced a new activity, an English lesson for the children. According to my bilingual daughter, today they introduced the concept of "up/down," "closed/open" and "hello/goodbye." There are in fact many bilingual children in her class of 34, so I imagine several of them including Raphaela must have felt very comfortable; especially since we are already deep into early reading in English.
I think that all Israeli parents should introduce their Hebrew speaking children to English, as it is the language of the Internet and hence of the planet at the moment. A high level of the international language would grant any child an advantage when they eventually enter the adult world.
However, I feel like this sabotages other plans in place for the year: since September, her teachers have made a concerted effort to teach my daughter that Hebrish is not an easily understood language, that we (the royal We that is my offspring) speak English at home and Hebrew in school. Only last week did the Head Teacher proudly exclaim victory, that for the first time the entire nine hour day passed and not a word of English escaped from her mouth.
I hope that the introduction of English does not set her back, since Raphaela will need fluent Hebrew to excel in the Israeli school system.
Meanwhile, I am brushing up on my Chinese, since soon they will become the owners of the entire planet.
The manager of the Gan specifically approached me to let me know that in honor of the Great Vacation they had introduced a new activity, an English lesson for the children. According to my bilingual daughter, today they introduced the concept of "up/down," "closed/open" and "hello/goodbye." There are in fact many bilingual children in her class of 34, so I imagine several of them including Raphaela must have felt very comfortable; especially since we are already deep into early reading in English.
I think that all Israeli parents should introduce their Hebrew speaking children to English, as it is the language of the Internet and hence of the planet at the moment. A high level of the international language would grant any child an advantage when they eventually enter the adult world.
However, I feel like this sabotages other plans in place for the year: since September, her teachers have made a concerted effort to teach my daughter that Hebrish is not an easily understood language, that we (the royal We that is my offspring) speak English at home and Hebrew in school. Only last week did the Head Teacher proudly exclaim victory, that for the first time the entire nine hour day passed and not a word of English escaped from her mouth.
I hope that the introduction of English does not set her back, since Raphaela will need fluent Hebrew to excel in the Israeli school system.
Meanwhile, I am brushing up on my Chinese, since soon they will become the owners of the entire planet.
Saturday, June 29, 2013
Sign of the Times
"The Cat in the Hat Comes Back," written in 1958 as a sequel to the classic, "The Cat in the Hat," ostensibly teaches the alphabet, and the lesson that as long as you clean up your mess before your parents come home, it all works out.
Every week we take a book out of our local library for new reading on Shabbat, and "The Cat in the Hat Comes Back" won this weeks lottery. I didn't remember it all that well from my own childhood, and was surprised to find that I had a few unexpected objections to the text.
For starters, in both this book and the original, Sally and her brother are left home alone by their parents, and they don't seem old enough; I wonder why the mother and father would not consider hiring a baby sitter.
Secondly, when the Cat in the Hat cleans the mess he has caused, at a certain point he transfers it to "Dad's bedroom." Is this a reflection of married life in the 50's, where parents slept in separate rooms? Or is it the male-centered society of the last several centuries defining the parents' private space as controlled by the Man of the House? (Historical or other explanations welcome.)
But most seriously disturbing was the language used toward the end of the book, when the Cat in the Hat must call upon his A-B-C minions to clean up the pink snow. (From the cake he was eating in the bathtub, don't ask...More preferable in any case to yellow snow.)
And I quote,
My cats are all clever.
My cats are good shots.
My cats have good guns. [pop-guns]
They will kill all those spots...
"Come on! Kill those spots!
Kill the mess!" yelled the cats.
And they jumped at the snow
With long rakes and red bats.
Perhaps Dr. Seuss was attempting some anti-war statement, but in today's era of shootings at schools, a rise in violence overall, and the American debate about gun control laws, I would hardly consider this language appropriate for children Raphaela's age. So I found myself changing the text, using the word "fix" instead of "kill," and toning down the number of times the word "bad" is used throughout the book.
My generation of parents, we are raising our children in a post 9/11 environment, in the era where PC language rules. Beyond that, I am raising Raphaela in a country where war and terrorism come into the house along with breakfast cereal; she certainly does not have to learn the word "kill" any earlier than is necessary.
Every week we take a book out of our local library for new reading on Shabbat, and "The Cat in the Hat Comes Back" won this weeks lottery. I didn't remember it all that well from my own childhood, and was surprised to find that I had a few unexpected objections to the text.
For starters, in both this book and the original, Sally and her brother are left home alone by their parents, and they don't seem old enough; I wonder why the mother and father would not consider hiring a baby sitter.
Secondly, when the Cat in the Hat cleans the mess he has caused, at a certain point he transfers it to "Dad's bedroom." Is this a reflection of married life in the 50's, where parents slept in separate rooms? Or is it the male-centered society of the last several centuries defining the parents' private space as controlled by the Man of the House? (Historical or other explanations welcome.)
But most seriously disturbing was the language used toward the end of the book, when the Cat in the Hat must call upon his A-B-C minions to clean up the pink snow. (From the cake he was eating in the bathtub, don't ask...More preferable in any case to yellow snow.)
And I quote,
My cats are all clever.
My cats are good shots.
My cats have good guns. [pop-guns]
They will kill all those spots...
"Come on! Kill those spots!
Kill the mess!" yelled the cats.
And they jumped at the snow
With long rakes and red bats.
Perhaps Dr. Seuss was attempting some anti-war statement, but in today's era of shootings at schools, a rise in violence overall, and the American debate about gun control laws, I would hardly consider this language appropriate for children Raphaela's age. So I found myself changing the text, using the word "fix" instead of "kill," and toning down the number of times the word "bad" is used throughout the book.
My generation of parents, we are raising our children in a post 9/11 environment, in the era where PC language rules. Beyond that, I am raising Raphaela in a country where war and terrorism come into the house along with breakfast cereal; she certainly does not have to learn the word "kill" any earlier than is necessary.
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Day Dreaming
Today, in between patients, my mind drifted to a place where I imagined that somehow for no particular reason I got ripped out the present and returned to the beginning of 1997, toward the end of my internship in Chiropractic school, and a half a year before I moved to Israel. Serves me right for reading and watching too much science fiction.
It felt very real to me, so much so that I went into a panic because I could not remember the combination to my locker, or how to get to school from my apartment in Toronto. Then I wondered what I would do if I had a test that day and hadn't studied, and decided that I would have to call in sick for the entire day, in order to avoid these problems.
Then I wondered in whom I would confide and seek help, who of my friends would take me seriously if I told them that I was a time traveler from 2013; ultimately I chose my best friend Shalymar and my cousin Susie. How would I prove my claim? Would they believe me if I warned them about the stock market crash under the Bush Administration, the various natural disasters that struck the States and Asia, the tragedy of 9/11, or the election (twice!) of the first black President? I would not be able to hold myself back, and would need to tell my cousin that her husband was having an affair and was planning to divorce her, or that my friend Shalymar would meet the man of her dreams but have to move to a different state to marry him.
Given Chaos Theory and following the first law of Star Trek, perhaps I should avoid saying anything of the sort, the smallest inappropriately- placed knowledge could alter the entire Universe; butterfly flapping wings, war in China etc.
Here was the greater challenge: if I could accept time travel and the sharing of very limited information, what kind of note would I leave myself before I returned to my own time? If I could only leave a message of several cryptic words, what would my future self tell my past self?
How about, "Invest in iPhone." But that would make no sense to me at the time.
I actually agonized over this decision for much of the afternoon, and despite all the dramatic and global stories to which I could have alluded, I decided that I would write the following: "Raphaela is coming :-) Get ready!"
It felt very real to me, so much so that I went into a panic because I could not remember the combination to my locker, or how to get to school from my apartment in Toronto. Then I wondered what I would do if I had a test that day and hadn't studied, and decided that I would have to call in sick for the entire day, in order to avoid these problems.
Then I wondered in whom I would confide and seek help, who of my friends would take me seriously if I told them that I was a time traveler from 2013; ultimately I chose my best friend Shalymar and my cousin Susie. How would I prove my claim? Would they believe me if I warned them about the stock market crash under the Bush Administration, the various natural disasters that struck the States and Asia, the tragedy of 9/11, or the election (twice!) of the first black President? I would not be able to hold myself back, and would need to tell my cousin that her husband was having an affair and was planning to divorce her, or that my friend Shalymar would meet the man of her dreams but have to move to a different state to marry him.
Given Chaos Theory and following the first law of Star Trek, perhaps I should avoid saying anything of the sort, the smallest inappropriately- placed knowledge could alter the entire Universe; butterfly flapping wings, war in China etc.
Here was the greater challenge: if I could accept time travel and the sharing of very limited information, what kind of note would I leave myself before I returned to my own time? If I could only leave a message of several cryptic words, what would my future self tell my past self?
How about, "Invest in iPhone." But that would make no sense to me at the time.
I actually agonized over this decision for much of the afternoon, and despite all the dramatic and global stories to which I could have alluded, I decided that I would write the following: "Raphaela is coming :-) Get ready!"
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Raphaela's skills at phonics and basic reading continue to grow, but I am not pushing her; I want it to be a completely voluntary and enjoyable evolution.
Home for Shavuot today, while reading many many books together, Raphaela at a certain point expressed amazement and admiration, "Mommy, how did you learn to read everything?"
Home for Shavuot today, while reading many many books together, Raphaela at a certain point expressed amazement and admiration, "Mommy, how did you learn to read everything?"
Saturday, April 6, 2013
The Magic Moment
...When Everything in the Universe Goes "Click!"
Raphaela has started early reading skills under my guidance, and she has most of the phonics down pat. Yesterday I was wearing a "Fox" sweatshirt, and thought it might be interesting to see if Raphaela could sound out the word. (Fox is the Israeli equivalent of the American Gap store.)
And indeed, I watched as the gears in her brain spun behind her eyes, as she sounded out each letter and came to her first full word, read all by herself. I jumped for joy, hugged her and saw her own pride and sense of accomplishment as her face glowed with pleasure, at the idea that someday she may even read entire books by herself.
We are a long way from full reading, lord knows that the English language contains more exceptions than most other on the planet, but I will never forget that look on Raphaela's face, and the knowledge that this little creature that came from me is capable of amazing things.
Raphaela has started early reading skills under my guidance, and she has most of the phonics down pat. Yesterday I was wearing a "Fox" sweatshirt, and thought it might be interesting to see if Raphaela could sound out the word. (Fox is the Israeli equivalent of the American Gap store.)
And indeed, I watched as the gears in her brain spun behind her eyes, as she sounded out each letter and came to her first full word, read all by herself. I jumped for joy, hugged her and saw her own pride and sense of accomplishment as her face glowed with pleasure, at the idea that someday she may even read entire books by herself.
We are a long way from full reading, lord knows that the English language contains more exceptions than most other on the planet, but I will never forget that look on Raphaela's face, and the knowledge that this little creature that came from me is capable of amazing things.
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