The True Spirit of Chanukah

Yesterday I received a call from friends of my parents, visiting Jerusalem for the holiday of Chanukah.  They told me that parents had sent a bunch of presents for my daughter and her four cousins;  we went to pick them up, as we had plans to meet with my brother and his family yesterday evening.

Amongst the presents for the children was a small gift for me from my parents, a unexpected and pleasant surprise.  Raphaela asked me if I felt badly that she had a large box from her grandparents, and mine was much smaller.  I replied that since I had not expected anything at all, I was quite pleased actually.  Raphaela responded, "Because we are happy with what we have."

Later on in the day, Raphaela asked me why in fact my parents had sent presents for Chanukah at all, and I could not have been more pleased that my daughter was not connected into the materialism that typically characterizes this time of the year.  I asked her, "What does Chanukah mean to you?"

"Well, we get vacation from school and go on great day trips.  We light beautiful candles each night and eat delicious snacks, like doughnuts and chocolate coins and pizza.  We get to count menorahs in the windows and on the street and on top of cars, I already found more than 200!   And we get to have lots of parties, spending time with our Mommy and our friends and our cousins."

"But it is nice to get presents, every once in a while, right?" 
"Yeah, sure!" Raphaela answered with a broad smile.

And this is one of the most huge benefits of living in Israel.

Life without Cher

My car, Cher, is almost 16 years old, but because I don't have much of a commute to work, she has less than 55,000 km on her speedometer.

Two weeks ago, I took Cher to the garage for her annual routine Winter Check Up, and she passed.  I mentioned to the mechanic that I had a suspicion that there was an electrical issue somewhere, one that only manifested intermittently;  they did a diagnostic and found nothing.

This past Friday, I decided to drive Raphaela to school rather than walk, because I had several errands - a doctor's appointment, the supermarket, the bakery etc.- during the morning, all in different parts of town.  Cher would not start up, dead in the water except for the horrid blinking light that said "SERVICE." I did whatever I could by foot, and the rest, whatever. It was the day before Shabbat and it didn't pay to take care of it, when she could just sit in the parking space anyway over the weekend.

This morning I called a tow truck and at this moment, my baby is on it's way to what Raphaela calls the Car Doctor.  I don't know how much the repair will cost, but it will most certainly take a chunk out of my budget; believe me, if I could afford it, I would buy a new car.

I am ashamed and sad to admit that I have become dependent on Cher, my life and my daughter's even busier life demands wheels.  This morning was so cold outside that I could not imagine having to walk to school, and asked a friend from the class to take Raphaela in their car.

As a sample week, here are the thing that will become much more difficult if we must depend on public transportation, not to mention the added danger of bus stops with the Third Intifada in full swing:

Ballet Lesson (tonight)
School in the cold-inside-your-bones weather (today, tomorrow)
Camp (Tuesday, Wednesday)
Day trips for Chanukah (Thursday, next Sunday and Monday)
Supermarket (At some point, we have to eat)
Family Chanukah party (Thursday)
Long weekend of vacation that I am desperate for, that we have both been looking forward to for such a long time (Friday through Sunday)

I did not know how much I counted on Cher until she died.

The Beautiful Lights

Last night, the First Grade girls in Evelyna held their Chanukah party, and considering the 31 children plus parents in the room, it went more or less smoothly.

Their teacher talked about the creation of the world, and how God created a special light, but then didn't know where to put it.  Upon consultation with the angels, God placed a piece of this special light into each person, deep inside so that only those who were actively searching for it would find it;  "because many people don't bother to look and examine deep inside themselves," said the teacher.  Then she thanked each of the girls in her class for manifesting that truly special light.

The Principal also spoke, and pointed out that while gravity on Earth will pull most things down (as he dropped his iPhone to the floor, ouch!), the flame of a fire defies these basic rules of physics and reaches upward, toward the heavens.  Then he as well said that each of these girls are lights, always reaching upward and always lighting the way with their camaraderie.

And indeed, I saw it with my own eyes.  At one point the teacher was leading an activity in which she sang a (very long) song about all the Chesed [good deeds in Hebrew] that we can do for each other, and every time she tapped a child on the head, they were meant to open a little flash light and wave it around.  It was dark in the room and she was not utilizing any particular system of order, patting heads haphazardly,  and ultimately she skipped over Raphaela.

Raphaela said nothing.

After putting on the lights of the classroom and starting to move on, one of the other girls in the class got up and pulled on the teachers shirt and said, "You forgot Raphaela!"  Whereupon  the teacher immediately shut off the lights, made special notice of my daughter and had all the children wave their flash lights together.

Afterwards I was talking to the teacher and she told me that Raphaela thanks her every day, for the lessons and the affection and the effort put into guiding these girls.  The teacher told me how impressed she was that Raphaela can say "thank you" and can make others feel genuinely appreciated.

Thank you, Raphaela, for making me proud.

Menorah Contest

Raphaela's school announced a contest for all the grades (one through six), to create a menorah out of recycled items.  All the participants will be displayed, and prizes will be awarded.

This afternoon I surveyed the submissions thus far, some were clearly age-appropriate and some were clearly created start to finish by the parents, who must be professional artists, or architects.  One menorah in particular could be sold in stores, or at the Israel Museum shop.

Here is our submission, I would accurately state that Raphaela did most of the work, and I served as an artistic and logistical consultant.

(Materials include a pine cone, the "hats" of acorns, paper, pipe cleaners and an aluminum foil tin. Oh, and googly eyes.)

Happy Holidays

Today I started planning our Thanksgiving dinner, and I couldn't be more excited.  Thanksgiving stands as one of my favorite holidays, American, Israeli, Jewish and otherwise.  In my mind it represents all those family gatherings at my grandmother's Z"L, the amazing smell when you walked in the door, the annual fight over which movie to see, the Macy's Day parade and the time spent bonding with cousins.

Living in Israel, we mostly ignore the American and the non-Jewish holidays, New Year's comes and goes without notice, except that I know that I will have to prepare my annual taxes around that time.  This year, however, Raphaela seems to have taken more notice of the global community.

She asked me why we don't celebrate Halloween, and I told her that we have Purim instead; I didn't mention that Halloween commemorates pogroms against Jews.  I remember, growing up in New York as a child how we spent that night:  we locked all the doors and windows, and closed the shades.  When the door bell rang, we ignored it, and the next morning, we hoped that the area where we lived had not been vandalized in any major way.  It was the one night out of the year that our quietly anti-Semitic neighbors had full reign.

It has apparently changed, evidenced by the huge amount of friends on Facebook - those of the Jewish faith and of all levels of religiosity- who posted pictures of their family fully costumed and celebrating Halloween on some level.

As far as Christmas, Raphaela thinks that Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny are fast friends of Diego and Dora, as they appear on the (Hebrew translated) cartoon to deliver presents and rescue animals.  Every year I go to a Christmas classic music/carols concert at the International YMCA in Jerusalem, but have not taken Raphaela because she cannot stay up that late into the night.  When she gets older, I may give her the option of coming with me instead of staying home with a baby sitter, though I doubt she will know the words to any of the Christmas carols or Handel's Messiah.

(The Tooth Fairy, however, is real.)

Our Chanukah rituals revolve around candle lighting with friends and family, eating doughnuts and taking day trips, rather than the rampant materialism that characterizes the season.  I am grateful to raise my daughter that way.

Ask any parent of children in Israel and they will say that there is far too much vacation from school for Jewish holidays as it is, we don't need to add in the other religions to the mix.

Super Woman

A (not married, no children) friend of mine complemented me this week, saying that I had the "Super Woman and Super Mom thing down pat."  I replied, "Thank you, I think."  Because being on and capable and organized and strong all the time gets tiring, and I secretly pray that one day I can collapse, and know that there is someone there to be my safety net and pick up some of the day-to-day responsibilities of my life.

Here's how today, Thursday was supposed to play out:

5:30 am:  Wake up, after the previous night in which I went to a late concert, leaving Raphaela at home with our baby sitter
7:30 am:  Take Raphaela to kindergarten
8:30-10:30 am:  Work in Chiropractic clinic
10:45 am:  Pick up Raphaela from Kindergarten to go to Shaarei Zedek Hosptial, to remove the stitches and get examined by the plastic surgeon
11:30-12:30:  Shaarei Zedek Hospital
12:45 pm:  Pick up Raphaela's new eyeglasses.  (Mercifully, because we had to pay privately, the optician gave me a nice price, saying that at this age, glasses are like "that toy that keeps breaking.")
1:15 pm: Return Raphaela to school
1:45-3:30 pm:  Work in Chiropractic clinic
4:00 pm:  Pick up Raphaela, come home for a quick snack
5:15 pm:  Leave house for Chanukah play
6:30-8:30 pm:  Chanukah play
9:00 pm:  Collapse in utter exhaustion

Here's how today, Thursday, actually played out:

5:30 am:  Raphaela wakes up, I tell her I need a half hour more of sleep
7:15 am:  Take Raphaela to Kindergarten
8:30-10:15 am:  Work in Chiropractic clinic
10:25 am:  Pick up Raphaela from Kindergarten
10:30-40 am:  Pick up Raphaela's new glasses, they look beautiful on her and open up her whole face
10:45 am:  Drive to Shaarei Zedek Hospital, the long way (I missed the proper exit)
11-12:30:  Wait for Raphaela's appointment with the plastic surgeon (they are running late...)
12:30-40 pm:  Removal of stitches, no anesthesia and it seems to hurt Raphaela even more than the original injury.  Such a trooper!
12:45 pm:  Drive Raphaela back to school, where she declares that she is worn out from her ordeal and just needs to rest
1:15 pm: Arrive home and eat a small quick lunch
1:45-3:30 pm: Work in Chiropractic clinic
4:00 pm: Pick up Raphaela from Gan
5:15 pm:  Amazingly, the bus comes right away and it takes less than ten minutes to arrive at the theatre with 45 minutes before the show starts
6:30-8:15 pm:  Raphaela, my good friend and her daughter, and 3,000 other Israeli children from across all walks of life and all religious levels watch a loud sparkly version of "101 Arabian Nights," featuring some A-list Israeli actors and the absolutely stunning Ethiopian Miss Israel.  Too bad we can't hear parts of the songs because of the din of all the children echoing along the fabulous acoustics of the hall.
8:15-8:30 pm:   The MC announces that in honor of their final performance and the recent holiday of Chanukah, all children exiting the theatre will receive a special candy box full of treats.  Raphaela and I almost get trampled just trying to get out of our seats, and I cover her face, worried that some jostling child or parent will rip open the not-yet-healed wound on Raphaela's chin.
8:45 pm:  A taxi gets us home, Raphaela is juiced up from the adrenaline of the show and the gift, I have a throbbing headache.
9:00 pm:  Raphaela collapses into bed.
9:15 pm:  I collapse into bed and vow that now that I have given my daughter the Israeli Chanukah "Festigal" experience, I will never do it again. 

Chanukah VIII

Last night, as we lit a full compliment of eight candles for Chanukah, Raphaela became sad that the holiday was coming to an end.  To cheer her up, I reminded Raphaela that there is always a great holiday on the horizon, with Purim the next one of the Jewish calendar, and Christmas vacation starting in the United States tomorrow.

Raphaela got very excited, and said, "Oh goody, that means we are going to get snow tomorrow night!"

(If the miracle of Chanukah is that the small amount of pure olive oil lasted eight days, then the miracle of Christmas, according to every television show, is that it snows when you least expect it.  It amazes me that living in Israel where Christmas and New Years come and go without notice, my five year old has a full grasp on the lore of these non-Jewish holidays.)

Raphaela the Brave

My daughter continues to astound me, as she maintains high positive energy despite her ordeal last week, and the bandages that cover the significant stitches on her chin.  This is my girl, who barely cried and lay perfectly still, even as the anesthesia started to wear off with the plastic surgeon only half finished.  Raphaela felt every pain, and showed bravery and constraint that I doubt most adults could manage on a good day.

This morning Raphaela asked for some coins and she has been giving them out all day to friends and strangers alike.  She tells them that she is giving them money that they may then give to charity, explaining that she is doing "good deeds" to thank G-d for taking care of her.

Then this afternoon we had what she called an "important talk," in which she explained that she is getting tired of the boys in her school who "fight and go crazy all day," IE we have arrived at the Cooties Stage, hooray!  I told Raphaela that she doesn't need to be friends with everyone, and that if she chooses to play only with girls for now, she is a perfectly normal child.

This new development certainly makes my choice of elementary schools easier, because it clearly answers the question, "Does Raphaela need/want boys in her class?"  When she is in high school and in the midst of adventurous dating, I will remind her of the time when she decided that boys were "wild and ichy."

Festival of Lights

Every Friday night, as part of the blessing I give my daughter, I use one of my favorite quotes from Bob Dylan, "May you always know the truth and see the light surrounding you."  I am particularly grateful this year to be able to light the candles with my daughter, reminded of our own little miracle. (Raphaela's face at the moment looks like she was hit by a truck...)

After two days of resting, I sent Raphaela back to school this morning, wondering if she would be able to stay out of danger;  you can't tell a five year old who is feeling fine that she must be especially cautious with her every day activities.  The fall happened as a natural consequence of children playing, and I would not want her to become fearful of experiencing a full life, as life requires an element of risk and uncertainty.

When I was preparing her lunch this morning, my gourmet chef looked at me and said, "You've made some good food choices there, but they're a little boring."

Once we found a shirt that I could pull over her head, we headed off to school, where I advised her teachers that (a) except for a gazillion stitches Raphaela is fine (b) I am the one still traumatized by the event and (c) I encouraged the teachers to allow Raphaela to have a full discussion about her wounds and her visit to the emergency room.

I was told later that after Raphaela spoke in front of her friends - "Mommy, I told them the whole truth!"- there ensued a class discussion where every child stood up and talked about their scars and moles and previous injuries.  I couldn't have planned it better myself.

Post script:  As I was walking home with Raphaela this afternoon we saw the mother of one of the boys who had front row seats to the face smack-down two days ago.  She asked me, "How are YOU doing? My son gave me all the gory details.  Was it really that bad?"

The chorus from one of the songs that the children in Raphaela's class sang tonight, at the Gan Chanukah party; an extravaganza that included minor pyrotechnics, a brief re-enactment of the destruction of the Temple, and of course, doughnuts.

"Like the flame, the Jews will never be extinguished!"

The Sort-Of Story of Chanukah

As told by Raphaela: 

Once upon a time there was a Princess who wanted to play with her dreidel.  Antiochus [the Greek ruler] came and broke her dreidel and tried to put pigs inside the Jewish Temple.

Antiochus got an "X" for his bad behavior!

Happy Holidays

This morning, with terrific excitement, I reminded Raphaela that today we celebrate Thanksgiving, a holiday left over from my American experience and yet shall be cherished every year, no matter where I live.  Raphaela asked if she was allowed to join in the Turkey Day festivities, as she was born in Israel and not the United States.  I told her that as she has an American passport and a mother born in the US, she is also a dual citizen and should enjoy all rights as such.

Later in the day, an Israeli patient asked me if I had commemorated Christmas in my house, as a child growing up in America.  After all, it has even become accepted among some observant American Jews to take their child Trick-or-Treating;  forgetting all historical background to the holiday IE pogroms and the slaughtering of Jews, kids get to wear costumes and collect free candy.  Harmless, right?

I laughed and pointed out that since my father is an ordained Orthodox Rabbi, it was never an option  to visit Santa at the mall or have a "Chanukah Bush" in our house.  Christmas is all about Saint Nick and Jesus and trampling a stranger to get a cheap X-Box, clearly religious in nature, as opposed to Thanksgiving.  My parents actually did a good job of giving the Jewish holidays throughout the year beauty and significance, without envy or wistfulness for the more Christian and pagan holidays.

That being said, I do have a secret indulgence:  Christmas carols.  They bring me some joy as it reminds me of the warm atmosphere of New York City that month before the holiday, where New Yorkers seemed less cut-throat and more friendly, "Happy Holidays!" wherever you went, skating at Rockefeller Center, the MET tree and the window decorations.

Ahh, nostalgia!

Every Day Heroes

As we move onto the next Jewish holiday, Chanukah, Raphaela's teacher asked the parents to prepare a project about family history, and about heroism.  The teacher explained that heroes come in small and large packages, and that each story would be read to open their mind to the idea that you don't have to lead an army against the Greeks to be considered brave.

A bit at a loss, because I don't see anything in particular that I have done in my life as especially heroic,  and I can't fall back on the Israeli soldier stories.  So I asked Raphaela if she thought that I was brave.  She responded with a resounding "Yes!"  When I asked Raphaela to elaborate on what actions in particular she admired, she answered, "Well, you dance and sing, you ran in the Marathon, and you eat and you read me stories."

Then it hit me, that the one thing I have done in my 46 years for which I can say I am proud and I feel quite brave...is in fact, Raphaela!  I made a choice to bring an amazing little girl into the world, to be pregnant and give birth and raise her every day, for the rest of my days.

Of course, I cannot write about being a single mother and about my fertility treatments to a group of five year olds; I have pledged to never allow Raphaela to feel from me that she and our family are too unusual,  and I will certainly not allow it to become a topic of general discussion among her friends.

Gan Birthday Party I

Since the very beginning of the school year, possibly even starting in August while she was still in Nature Camp, Raphaela asks the question almost daily, "When am I going to have my Gan birthday party?"  I had answered her consistently, after the set of Jewish holidays.  (It's the period known by all in Israel as "Acharei HaChagim," when suddenly people become productive, until the Chanukah vacation in December.)

The day after Succot ended, Raphaela made a very reasonable and reasoned demand, "Mommy, my birthday was one week ago, and now the holidays are over, for real.  Did you arrange the date for my Gan birthday party?"

And so, after nagging the Head Kindergarten Teacher Devorah, the main event was set for this coming Friday.  That was, until Gannenet Deborah injured her arm last night.

Now the party has been pushed off one more week, and I dreaded breaking the news to my birthday-obsessed daughter.

This morning I sat Raphaela down, looked her straight in the eye and explained that her teacher hurt her arm very badly last night and now she is wearing a cast.  I told Raphaela that I spoke to her teacher, and Devorah said that she really wants to be able to dance properly at the party, and so it will not be this week after all, but rather soon, in fact next Friday.

I expected sadness and disappointment, possibly a welling-up of tears. Instead, Raphaela immediately ran to the play room, took out markers and scissors and drawing paper, and of her own initiative, created a beautiful "Get Well" card.

On the Eighth Day of Chanukah

5:00     With no Gan and no Chanukah camp today, and no patients scheduled, despite there being absolutely no reason wake up early, Raphaela and Harry "The Highlander" wake up earlier than usual, raring to go.  With the rain pouring down from the heavens, there is also no particular reason to leave the house today, and Harry will spend the rest of the day begging by the door, thinking that those little bits of sunshine in between the clouds are reason enough to attempt to go outside.

8:00     We have already eaten breakfast and had the hot chocolate I was saving for later, in desperation, I have revealed my secret weapon to Raphaela, the project for this afternoon.  Raphaela will spend much of the morning hugging the box and asking, essentially, "Are we there yet?"

8:30  With the briefest break in the rain, Raphaela and I bundle up and run outside to feed the street cats;  poor things, fur matted down and looking slightly miserable, they seem grateful for the one meal they might receive today.

10:00  We brave the rain and rent the latest (real person) Smurfs movie, a parable which questions Nature vs. Nurture and the usefulness of surprise birthday parties; as well as sugar coating the difficulties facing step-families, it features (what I am assuming)lots of CGI. Unless of course the Smurfs and hyper intelligent talking cats and ducks are real and are active members of the Acting Guild.

Lunch  In which I learn that when eating pasta shaped like animals, one does not mix species.  Elephants with elephants, lions with lions, turtles with turtles and giraffes with giraffes, like in the Ark.

12:30-14:30  Chanukah Nap.  Meanwhile, the sun seems to be pushing through the clouds, though the weather and the temperature outside are not much more welcoming than this morning.

15:00  The day's surprise and special project, a do-it yourself kid friendly confectioners kit, in keeping with the week's theme of Chanukah and the other miracle, Chocolate.

16:30-17:30  Dora and Diego on television, Lord bless them.

17:45  Bath time IE the first time either of us have taken off our pajamas since yesterday evening.

18:30  Dinner followed by story time, in which we read a new favorite of Raphaela's, an Israeli children's book about a bully in Gan who finally gets put in his place by the new kid, who doesn't understand why the other children and their teacher have been letting him get away with this crap for so long.

19:45  Bed time, and I smile in the knowledge that tomorrow Raphaela returns to Gan. 

Chanukah in the Old City 2013

Since Raphaela has never been to the Old City in Jerusalem in a cognitive conscious way, I had decided that on one of the days of Chanukah I would take her on a walk through the Old City and to the Kotel [Wailing Wall].  The weather report for the next three days is threatening rain (finally!) for the next three days,  so we set off today.

My expectations of her ability to traverse the rocky paths and the long walk were low, and Raphaela far exceeded them, walking almost four hours on the steep and broken streets, pushing through the massive crowds without fear.  When we concluded our tour and were on our way to the bus stop, Raphaela said, "Mommy, why bother taking the bus?  We can walk home from here, it's not that far from here!"  Well, she might have had excess energy but Mommy felt pretty exhausted.

While it is less advisable to give charity money to random people wandering around the Old City, I wanted to teach Raphaela the joy of giving with a full heart, so I set aside a bunch of loose change, gave it to her and told her that she could give it to whomever she felt fit.  Raphaela distributed the change to many people, including a random mother walking with her children;  the woman laughed, understanding the meaning behind the gesture, and suggested Raphaela give the coins to someone more worthy and more needy than herself.

As we walked through the alleys, I explained to Raphaela that the ridges in the stones were part of an ancient sewage and drainage system, and that the Jews in the time of Chanukah did not have a modern plumbing system or bathtubs like we have today.  Raphaela seemed even more concerned when I told her that in the time of the Macabees, there was no such thing as television or the Internet.

"What did they do with their time, Mommy?" (Very valid question for this generation...)

We lost count of the number of menorahs we saw, large small and very large.

At the Kotel, I explained to Raphaela that although G-d listens to us everywhere, this place, a remnant of the Temple, G-d listens very well, and that she could make a special wish.

 

 

I submitted my regular Christmas list IE health, good friends and supportive relationships, professional success, the end of this war of terror and World Peace etc.  When I asked Raphaela what she had discussed with G-d, she answered that she had requested Love.

Willie Wonka's Chanukah Projects

Every Chanukah, the Jerusalem Biblical Zoo features some hands-on project for children involving candy.  Last year Raphaela made a full sized mouse out of sugar dough - ears, whiskers, tail and everything - and it took her almost three weeks to finish eating it; she had decided the mouse was her friend and felt slightly guilty cutting him up piece by piece.

If you ask Raphaela about her candy mouse, she will still say, "He is in my stomach!"

This year the zoo had a chocolate workshop:

That sucker was gone before we got to the tiger habitat.

Happy Thanksgivvukah 2013

Particularly because it happens once every 70,000 years...

I have always felt that it is most important to be thankful, on a daily basis, and I welcome the opportunity of Thanksgiving to teach Raphaela that we should express gratitude for the people who influenced us and the places that gave us context for our lives.

Each Thanksgiving we are in Jerusalem, we join 40 or so expats at the Inbal Hotel and feast upon the traditional holiday foods and listen to music.  Between the turkey overload and the lateness of the evening, Raphaela and I crash as soon as we get home, regretfully knowing that we must wake up on time the next morning for Gan, and Israeli normal life.

This year, bonus, we can pig out Thursday night and sleep in Friday morning, because Chanukah and Thanksgiving overlap, almost as if we were celebrating with our family in the States!

With a talented jazz band playing in the background, we enjoyed our meal surrounded by friends.  Among the varied meats and side dishes, there appeared latkes, and for dessert, along with the usual fare, the table featured jelly doughnuts, in the spirit of Thanksgivukkah. 

Caught up in the atmosphere, Raphaela disappeared on and off to explore the hotel, and would then come running back into the room, curls bouncing, grabbing the hands of strangers so they could dance with her.

I think this is the first time since her birth that she has basically amused herself, allowing me to have a truly grown-up social experience. I didn't want to leave.

In the car on the way home, Raphaela and I reminisced, replaying our favorite moments of the evening.  Raphaela's recollection of the meal?  "Man, those cucumbers were mighty tasty!"

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Thanksgivukkah Cucumbers (Family Recipe)

Peel cucumber, cut into round slices (thin or thick, as per preference)
Place in serving bowl, serve.

Miles To Go

In anticipation of the annual Gan Chanukah party, Raphaela spent almost two weeks singing the songs and showing me the elaborate dance moves her teacher had choreographed.  As she got dressed in her festive outfit for the party, she could not contain her enthusiasm, Raphaela was literally bouncing off the walls.

When we arrived, the large room filled up quickly, stuffed end to end with teachers and parents and grandparents and siblings and the children, the stars of the show.  That's when Raphaela went into performance anxiety/stage fright mode, and for most of the planned program sat on the side while her classmates gave their parents photo opportunities.

Toward the end of the Chanukah play, Raphaela made an attempt to join the group, but one of her teachers pushed her to the side, telling her that it was too late.

Needless to say, I felt confused and disappointed, despite my too clear recollection of the Purim costume melt-down last year.  And the reason that we stopped swimming lessons, and didn't even attempt ballet this year.

(I made excuses for it, maybe she was tired or maybe that is just her independent spirit.)

When we got home, Raphaela asked me if I was angry at her because she didn't participate, and I tried to not invest too much negative emotion in my reply.  I answered her that I was not angry, rather disappointed and sad for her;  that she did not participate, considering that I knew that she knew all the moves and knowing that she was looking forward to the event, and that it would have been fun and rewarding for her.

Raphaela reaffirmed that if she doesn't want to do something, she "will not do it."

I could not fall asleep last night, feeling like a bit of a failure as a parent, thinking about other parents talking about the debacle behind our back, and the worst feeling, that her teachers would somehow think less of Raphaela and treat her differently because of her adamant refusal.  As well, I felt frustrated because I had no spouse or partner, or even family with whom I could flesh out the issue.

This afternoon, Raphaela told me that several of her teachers had confronted her today about her behavior, and that it made her feel "icky from the icky words."

Having adopted the life philosophy that I am not going to allow lousy feelings to build up inside me, I left a message for her head teacher today, that I would like to speak to her when she had free time and the opportunity to brainstorm.  We spoke for almost 20 minutes, and I expressed my concern that while I admire Raphaela's determination and single minded-ness, I am afraid that she will not learn the benefits of being part of a group, that sometimes the rules of society are not objectionable.

I explained to her teacher that I too live "outside the box," in the sense that I generally do not care what others think of me, and that I will question the rules rather than following blindly.  However, having 45 years or so experience of doing things The Hard Way, I have come to appreciate that receiving help and dipping into the pool of the groupthink every once in a while moves things along nicely.

Hila, her teacher, admitted that she was quite surprised at Raphaela's behavior, that in rehearsals my daughter had shone and had been expected to be the star of the play.  Hila also suggested that rather than shyness, Raphaela seemed confused and overwhelmed by the large crowd.  We agreed together to meet and to discuss a long term educational plan suited for my daughter, to teach her how to straddle Raphaela World along with the rest of reality.

Yet, I am still having trouble letting go of the sadness and that sense of failure.

The Story of Chanukah by Raphaela

Once there was a wicked king named Antiochus, from ["Mommy, what's the name of that country again?" "Greece." "Right...] Greece, and he broke the Temple and threw the Torah into the fire.  Antiochus also had elephants.

The Macabees were very sad because of the idols that Antiochus put inside the Temple, so they threw the idols into the fire.  With the elephants.

Then the Macabees had to fix the Temple and it was very hard for them, so Noah helped them, because Noah already had vast experience in building and fixing things. ["Mommy, he did a great job with the Ark, and it was very big!"]

Then the Macabees went into the cave and played dreidel.

The End