Aliyah Essay
I have been brainwashed by the system. There is really no point in denying it. I went to a Jewish Day School for fourteen years, spent four summers at a Bnei Akiva camp, another summer on an NCSY tour of Israel, and topped that all off with a year at Midreshet HaRova where aliyah forms were filled out more often than shana bet ones. It was all probably really the most efficient way of getting this insane idea in my head that I can pick up and leave a life I’m perfectly happy in for a country with so many obstacles it makes my head spin.
For the past few years I walked around very sure of myself that I was going to make aliyah immediately following graduation from college. This eventually meant facing the practical considerations for making this decision. Israel had to be somewhere I could have a good group of friends, live in a nice community, find good job opportunities, and find a graduate school program that met my needs and interests.
This has led to a series of what I call “good aliyah days” and “bad aliyah days.” A good aliyah day is when I find a long list of programs I would want to work for. I am interested in some combination of social work and education, and there are so many opportunities from after-school programs to children’s homes that I can see myself working in. I know I am good with kids and have a strong desire to make their lives better. In Israel I can help out kids who really need it. I will be helping immigrants to Israel just like me which will add something special to my work. Okay, so I will make far less than the meager salary I would already be making in social services in the United States, but I’m too young and naive to really think about the consequences of that.
Then there are the bad aliyah days. I’m going to miss my family. My little cousin tells me I don’t come over to play enough. My grandma tells me I’m breaking her heart. My roommates will come up with incredible (while truly insane) shenanigans they will do next year and follow it with “it’s just too bad you’re going to miss it.” Or I look up graduate school programs and the website is all in Hebrew and I have no clue what’s going on. Then there are the little things that suddenly become huge, like how much I love seeing the leaves change colors or playing in the snow. There will always be that lingering question– what if I can’t do it? Maybe it just won’t work.
Here’s the plan: I will go to Israel. I will find a good place to live. I’m sure there are nice people in Katamon too. It’s no College Park, but I can make it do. Then I’ll find an ulpan that will really teach me Hebrew so I feel more confident when I step outside every morning. The hardest part will probably be finding a job, but there is always something and I will work my way up from there. During my first year in Israel I will make myself as desirable as I can for the only twenty spaces in that Hebrew University program.
There will probably be a lot of crying, but there will also be shoulders to lean on. My big brother is there, and that’s what big brothers are for, right? I also have my best friend who made aliyah a few years ago. Best of all, everyone is truly rooting for me, and nothing means more than that. In twenty years this will all make sense to me.
For the past few years I walked around very sure of myself that I was going to make aliyah immediately following graduation from college. This eventually meant facing the practical considerations for making this decision. Israel had to be somewhere I could have a good group of friends, live in a nice community, find good job opportunities, and find a graduate school program that met my needs and interests.
This has led to a series of what I call “good aliyah days” and “bad aliyah days.” A good aliyah day is when I find a long list of programs I would want to work for. I am interested in some combination of social work and education, and there are so many opportunities from after-school programs to children’s homes that I can see myself working in. I know I am good with kids and have a strong desire to make their lives better. In Israel I can help out kids who really need it. I will be helping immigrants to Israel just like me which will add something special to my work. Okay, so I will make far less than the meager salary I would already be making in social services in the United States, but I’m too young and naive to really think about the consequences of that.
Then there are the bad aliyah days. I’m going to miss my family. My little cousin tells me I don’t come over to play enough. My grandma tells me I’m breaking her heart. My roommates will come up with incredible (while truly insane) shenanigans they will do next year and follow it with “it’s just too bad you’re going to miss it.” Or I look up graduate school programs and the website is all in Hebrew and I have no clue what’s going on. Then there are the little things that suddenly become huge, like how much I love seeing the leaves change colors or playing in the snow. There will always be that lingering question– what if I can’t do it? Maybe it just won’t work.
Here’s the plan: I will go to Israel. I will find a good place to live. I’m sure there are nice people in Katamon too. It’s no College Park, but I can make it do. Then I’ll find an ulpan that will really teach me Hebrew so I feel more confident when I step outside every morning. The hardest part will probably be finding a job, but there is always something and I will work my way up from there. During my first year in Israel I will make myself as desirable as I can for the only twenty spaces in that Hebrew University program.
There will probably be a lot of crying, but there will also be shoulders to lean on. My big brother is there, and that’s what big brothers are for, right? I also have my best friend who made aliyah a few years ago. Best of all, everyone is truly rooting for me, and nothing means more than that. In twenty years this will all make sense to me.
1 comment:
Just letting you know, I was going to do it when I was your age and didn't. I made aliya this summer, with husband and teenage kids in tow, and let me tell you--you did the right thing by coming at your age...people tell me to "hang in there", and I'm telling you the same. In ten years we'll both be glad we're here (and by then I hope my kids will be too!)
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