My Latest Articles

I've got two stories in this week's New York Jewish Week, in the "Israel Travel" supplement.

One is about various water parks in Israel, and the other is about places to go if you want an interactive Bedouin experience or a simulated Biblical experience.

I love my job.

Movie Night

Last night I saw a 10 pm showing of "Slumdog Millionnaire" with Chava.

I felt like such a party animal, leaving my house at 9:30! Whew! :-)

The movie was intense. I see why it won Best Picture, but it was disturbing.

I went to sleep around 2 am (party animal!) and woke up at 1:15 in the afternoon (teenager!)

I had nightmares about babysitting for an adorable baby, and it disappears mysteriously while I'm brushing my teeth and dies, and I'm guilty of negligent homicide. Like I said, the movie was quite disturbing. Also I think my mind is still processing that horrible article about how easy it is to forget a child in a car.

Urgh.

Quotes of the Day

#1: "I'd rather be paid to write drivel than to be poor and become posthumously beloved by millions." (Sarah)

#2: "I'm sure if I were surrounded by rich, handsome men they would all be attracted to me. But, alas, I'm not." (Liza)

#3:
Sarah to students: "I'm sorry I don't have your papers graded yet."
Student: "It's OK. We give you an extension."

Then and Now

Then

This magazine cover graced the inside of my high-school locker



I'm not embarrassed to admit this because, seriously, who knew back then just how strange he was, or would become?

Now

If I were 17 again, this magazine cover would totally be in my locker, twice

because, you know, pretty men with tousle-able hair, an intense gaze, and. those. eyebrows. never go out of style. To 17-year-olds, anyway.

However, this does not bode well for Robert Pattinson's sanity or image. Yes, he's very pretty, but whose couch will he be jumping on in 20 years?

The Post I Feel Like Writing This Morning

Happy Purim! This is such a great day. I love Purim. The birds are singing, there are musical vans driving around the streets, people are giving me cookies and cake, and later I'm going to see my cute little haredi cousins and have more cookies and cake. Yay!

And, I just drank a VERY BIG cup of coffee. I feel so alive! Life is fantastic!

The Post I Felt Like Writing Last Night

Four worst holidays to be a single, childless Orthodox adult:

#4: Chanukah. It's 80% a children's holiday.

#3: Purim. See above, but without the pretty candles.

#2: Yom Kippur. Same prayers every year. Every. year.

#1: Rosh Hashanah. See above, but without the fast and holy white clothing to elevate the day.

Best holiday to be a single, childless Orthodox adult:

#1: Passover! Cleaning goes smoothly and then you just show up at someone else's Seder with a bottle of wine and a box of matza, ready to be religious. Meaningful and pretty easy!

God, I love coffee.

PSA

Crazy-scary article in the Washington Post, about the phenomenon of perfectly competent, loving parents forgetting their children in the car.

A tip from a New York Times reader:

"When you are strapping your child into his or her carseat, place your wallet, office/house keys, or purse onto the floor of the back seat with him or her."

Discovery

I've been teaching now for several weeks and am starting to get to know the students better.

One of them, J., is a kid who, from the first day, set himself apart as a visual artist. He draws all the time, everywhere, on his notebooks, on t-shirts, on little slips of paper. Give him a pen or pencil and within seconds pictures will come out of it. And he's not bad at it, either.

He's also just as mellow in class as one would expect a visual artist to be. He is one of the most laid-back kids I've ever met. Nothing fazes him. It could also be that he's been sick - or depressed? - and tired all the time, which I've brought to the attention of the administration. But anyway what it all boils down to is that he sits quietly in class, looking always like he's on the verge of falling asleep. A nice boy -- the other kids seem to like him, and one of them once mentioned that she knows J. from camp and he's one of the nicest people she knows -- but with an air about him that says "I'm currently sitting in English class, but I'm not here, here."

Anyhow, most of my students have been experimenting with different forms of poetry, and keeping journals, which I get to read. And over the last few weeks I've noticed something about J's creative writing: it is truly creative. It is intense without being cliched. What I witness when reading his poetry is a level of originality and depth I've never seen before, not from a student. It's not hackneyed teenage angst. He's the real deal. There is a lot going on inside this kid, and he's got the actual talent to represent it in words. I read his work and think "My God, this kid could be the next Bob Dylan, or Allan Ginsburg."

I figured he must know already that he's good, so for a while I just wrote encouraging comments on his work and gave it back. But today I decided to make sure he realizes that he's at least at good at poetry as he is at drawing. So, even though he was complaining of feeling a little sick, I asked him to stay for a minute after class. Of course the first thing he wanted to know was whether he's in trouble. :-) Definitely not.

During class, my students gave presentations in groups. I don't know what J had done to his nose, but apparently it was bleeding and he spent the class sticking little pieces of paper up it. Ah, the glamour of teaching teenagers.

After class, he sat down with me and I started telling him that ... well, first I had to ask him to remove the piece of paper in his nose, because it's distracting, and he was like "aw, yeah, I guess it's hard to take me seriously with this"... and I told him that I think his writing is truly unique and special, and I wish I could help him mold his talent, but poetry isn't my "thing" as much as journalism, but I hope he continues writing and developing it, and maybe try songwriting -- and finding a mentor of some kind.

His mellow response? "Tell my mom. She'll figure something out."

I asked him if poetry is one of his "things" as much as drawing, and he said he'd never written poetry until this class. I've discovered a talent! Me! I discovered someone!

Meanwhile, the news that his English teacher thinks he's super-talented did not faze him, of course. I had to ask him outright if he's pleased to hear this. He said "yeah. It's cool..." and went on his way.

Reminder

The United States has set its clocks ahead one hour.

This means that there is now a SIX-hour time difference between Israel and the East coast, and a NINE-hour time difference between Israel and the West coast.

Have fun setting up phone appointments . . . .

Our Paths Meet

I think I may have crossed paths with Hillary Clinton yesterday. I was taking my ride to one of my teaching jobs, and, coming from Azza Street, we stopped at a main intersection. There were policepeople keeping traffic held up, and Hazzaz Avenue was empty.

"Someone important is coming," the driver said.

Sure enough, after about a minute -- which is a long time for traffic to be held -- a long motorcade come down from Hazzaz, turned around us and went up Azza street.

"The prime minister?" mused one of the other teachers.

"Nah, it's someone foreign," the driver said. I don't know how they can tell these things, or whether he was right. I did notice a couple of vans in the motorcade, full of people. Journalists?

Anyhow, that was my excitement for the day. Move along, move along.

We're Saved!

I can't tell you how depressed I've been the last few days, trying to work out where I'll live next month. Since the landlord was raising the rent by 300 NIS - waaaay above market rate -- and doing it primarily to force us out because he doesn't like us, we were all set to move out. Well, Liza was. If she was moving out anyhow, she wanted to go to a neighborhood that had more of the bus lines she needed. Unfortunately, none of them are neighborhoods I'm willing to live in, if I can help it. So it meant splitting up. In fact Liza went today to see an apartment in another neighborhood, and had decided that unless our current landlord changes his mind in the 11th hour, she would call tomorrow and take the other place. She'd then move out in a few days.

I'd been afraid of this: having to choose between finding a new roommate (AGAIN), who may or may not turn out to be very annoying ... or living on my own (AGAIN) which we've already established isn't so healthy for me. I did research about rents in my area, and as I'd feared, the most I could afford, if I live on my own, is a studio (AGAIN) which would mean hosting Shabbat meals in my bedroom (AGAIN).

I walked around all day today with a feelings of dread and helplessness.

And then, finally finally, our next-door neighbors, whom we like a lot, and who own their apartment, called the landlord and told him that we are really nice people -- good, quiet, friendly neighbors -- and they strongly suggest that he not raise the rent by so much that we have to move out.

I guess the idea that we are nice people was new to him, and gave him some pause, because he called me up and said that he'll raise the rent by 100 nis, not 300 nis. Liza and I agreed that it's worth paying 50 nis more per month each, to avoid moving out.

Thank God Thank God Thank God Thank God Thank God Thank God!!!!!!!!

!!!!!!!!!!!

Phew!!!!!

The forces of reason have triumphed over those of small-mindedness! Whoo hoo!!!!