Inspiration- in honor of the 5th yartzheit of Mikey Butler and Miss Sharon Steiff

Don't leave your participles dangling. Remember your FANBOYS (for, and, nor, but, or, yet, so) and place commas accordingly. Stop saying 'like' every other second. Take that gum out of your mouth- you look like a cow. Some of the nicest clothes can be purchased at Marshall's Boutique. It's all about how you present yourself.

Eleven years later, I'm all set for the cocktail party. Miss Steiff worked us hard for two years in 7th grade and again in 8th grade. Whenever we complained, she insisted that everything she was teaching us was pertinent for our future attendance at cocktail parties. Generations of Maimonides students came out prepared. We joked that our senior year fund-raising banquet (aka "the senior prom") was the ultimate test. We dressed up all nice and were paraded around the room so all the grown ups could "ooh" and "aah." Little did we know when the real work would start. When we arrived at college most of us realized that somehow we were far more articulate in both writing and in speech than many of our classmates. I still see Miss Steiff cringing when I throw in a pointless "like" in the middle of a sentence, or better yet-- the Israeli "k'eeeelu." In honor of Miss Steiff I will do everything in my power to never let that become a part of my regular speech.

When I was in Israel for the year Miss Steiff came to visit with a mission from the Young Israel of Brookline. There's a great picture of us in the Old City that I wish I had scanned on my computer. Soon after that I found out that she had leukemia. I don't think she even finished off teaching the school year. Miss Steiff never married and never had any children, but think about the book Goodbye Mr. Chips. It was like that. She had hundreds of children.

A year or two after I had Miss Steiff as a teacher I met another individual who continues to inspire me. Mikey Butler played drums for the band at the NCSY Fall Regional shabbaton when I was in 9th or 10th grade. I don't even need to explain who Mikey was. You can google his name or do a search on facebook and you'll find countless letters, articles, blog entries, and facebook group posts about how incredible he was. We spoke briefly on the shabbat and then we were in touch for awhile on AIM. I remember once a friend of mine was struggling with something and he graciously talked her through whatever it was. They were really rough years for me too, and I wasn't always finding the right people to turn to, but I'm grateful Mikey was there. Mikey lived twenty four strong years despite battling cystic fibrosis. Then his body just gave in.

I don't usually include sick people's names in my prayers. I don't know why. Maybe I feel like it loses it's meaning after awhile. Mikey and Miss Steiff were the two exceptions. For several months I said both their names in the prayer for the sick. Freshman year when I was in Israel for winter break I attended a huge prayer service for Mikey at the Kotel. There were so many people there of all ages and from so many different places. A couple weeks later I returned to Maryland for the second semester. The first day of the semester was a snow day. In typical Maryland fashion, there probably wasn't really any snow, but I spent the day in my room instead of in class. I forget who I found out about first, but I got two devastating emails that day. Mikey and Miss Steiff had both passed away.

My first instinct was to jump on a train and go straight back to Boston for Miss Steiff's funeral. Besides being my English teacher, she was a distant cousin. My next thought was finding a way to get to Pittsburgh for Mikey's funeral. I really barely knew Mikey, but I felt it was closure I somehow needed. Reality hit and I realized I wasn't going anywhere. I was however able to listen to the eulogies for Mikey over the internet. Over a thousand people were at his funeral.

It's hard to believe that it's been five years since that day. I am now 24, the same age Mikey was when he died. I still think of Miss Steiff every time I correct even the smallest grammatical error, or when I come up with something particularly eloquent to say at a formal event. I still think of Mikey every time I hear someone banging on the drums. The way he played you would never think he was hooked up to an oxygen tank. Absolutely amazing.

This week, in honor of the lives of Miss Steiff and Mikey, I will be thinking about inspiration. The inspiration to express myself and the inspiration to live-- Day By Glorious Day (and in impeccable English).

May both their memories be blessed.

2+ weeks later

Not much has changed. Some friends have come home from reserve duty. Other ones have left. One left, came home for a day, got engaged, and went back again. My best friend's boyfriend is going into Gaza any day now. Yonatan Netanel z"l was killed by friendly fire and left behind a four month old child. His sister is a student in my department (there were signs at school announcing his death). I was holding a four month old baby when I saw the news on TV. This country is really small.

I am at the point in my semester where I actually have to do work. Teachers are finally telling me what the assignments are that my entire grade will be based on. They will be due over the next two months. A couple are due during the beginning of the next semester. I have 3 1/2 weeks left of class. The end of this semester technically means I'm a quarter done with the program (thesis not included). I still sit quietly through most of my classes. Lately I've been overtired on Mondays and space out a lot (no thanks to a certain Harriet the Spy). Today I got to hand in my own copy of the statistics homework. Okay, it was because my partner couldn't make it, but it was still exciting. Usually we use hers because her Hebrew is actually understandable. Little by little I am speaking more at school but only when I have to. I'll figure it out one of these days.

Everything feels very different. The students are more subdued. My Introduction to Trauma class has been taking on a lot more meaning. Even the professor is expressing how hard it is to be somewhat academic about a topic that's been so real these past couple of weeks. Hebrew U, like other universities, has opened up it's available space in the dorms for students and their families from the south who need a safe place to stay. Families all over the country are opening their homes to total strangers. At the supermarket you can get half price candy and snacks to be delivered to soldiers. I'm hoping to bake cookies for my friends coming back from reserve duty. It's therapeutic. And a way to procrastinate. But mostly therapeutic.

It's hard to complain about how much work I have plenty of time to do but can't get myself to even start when all this is going on. With rockets falling in both the north and south it is hard feeling safe in Jerusalem which is smack in the middle. We are not physically effected at all, but the war is on all our minds. My friend was going to host a movie night last week then sent us all a message saying he just couldn't do it. Not until our friends come home safe. None of us were about to argue.

I kind of wonder how this experience compares to that of students my age in the US when their friends were being sent to fight in Afghanistan and Iraq. Except I know it is definitely different in this case where our friends are two hours away and rockets are falling miles from where the actual fighting is.

The Big Lebowski movie night sounded like fun though I was just happy for an excuse to go out and hang out with friends. Now that it is on hold until everyone comes home, I am really looking forward to it.

Extraordinary

This blog post was written special for the "Why I LOVE Israel" Blog Carnival. To read about this event and find other entries go to http://realisrael.wordpress.com.
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When I moved to Israel just over a year ago, I did many of the same things anyone else around the world does when they move to a new place. I went to the bank to set up my first bank account on my own. I probably scrunched up my face as I tried to decipher the small print in Hebrew. Then the bank teller welcomed me home.

I usually go to the supermarket on Sundays and then again on Thursday or Friday morning if I'm cooking for Shabbat. It took me awhile to learn where the best places to go shopping are and where I can get the best deals. The most I've learned has probably been from the people I've stood in line with. They are always happy to comment on what I'm about to buy and what good deals I accidentally discovered. Lines in Israel might be a hypothetical concept, but you can always make friends in them.

I spend two days a week at Hebrew University on Mount Scopus. The bus to campus is full of students like me, having rolled out of bed just in time to catch the far too infrequent 30 bus. At school groups of friends sit around the grass talking, laughing, and playing random instruments. The Forum always has vendors selling everything from jewelry to children's books. In the classroom as we discuss the future of Israel's children our similarities are illuminated and our differences are set aside.

When I'm not in school or sitting at home pretending to do homework I'm usually babysitting. There are several families in the neighborhood I help out. Sometimes we play in the house. Other times we go to the park and the kids play with other children they only met moments before. Parents and other babysitters will talk to me like we're old friends. Once in awhile a parent will take out a package of cookies and bottle of juice with enough cups and napkins for everyone there.

I really like to walk everywhere. You walk enough in Jerusalem and you realize how small this place really is. By now I feel that I recognize everybody. Once in awhile I take the bus. When we get near a supermarket there is always at least one elderly man or woman who insists on standing with their many packages instead of taking one of the many seats immediately offered to them. One time a woman handed me her baby to hold while she organized her bags and secured the stroller. She never asked me if it was okay or thanked me afterwards but it didn't matter to me, and none of it came as a surprise.

I love Israel because I can walk down the street and match up the exact place I'm in with an event I read about in the Bible or learned about in a Jewish History class. I love Israel because on Friday afternoon a siren goes off and the city quiets down as people begin Shabbat, however it is they choose to celebrate it. I loved how on the holiday of Succot (Tabernacles) thousands of Christians from around the world paraded through the streets of Jerusalem and were so intensely excited to be in their Holyland. I loved how every night of Chanukah menorahs were lit around campus to celebrate a miracle from hundreds of years ago. I live in Israel so I can be part of a miracle that only started taking formation sixty years ago.

All those things make me love a place, but it took more than that to decide to live here. It took seeing bus drivers refusing to move until all elderly passengers had found seats, and I need to have a superb university to attend for graduate school. I need neighborhood store owners who greet me like an old friend and having total strangers to graciously help me with my charges and become friends with me at the park.

My life here is both ordinary and extraordinary. When I visit the US and tell people about my life here, it seems that they forgot that in Israel too people go to supermarkets and study in graduate school. So I tell them about the ordinary, and I try to sneak in stories about the extraordinary too.

There's a lot out there to read about Israel. A lot of it can be debated for hours on end. The media isn't going to talk about how I opened a bank account and waited anxiously until I heard back about my acceptance to Hebrew University. But in the end of the day, that's what Israel is like. That's what people are doing-- ordinary things, in often extraordinary ways.

When Rockets Are Falling

This blog post may be just one more excuse not to be interpreting the long neglected powerpoints from my research methodology class, but since my main distractions are facebook and email, and most people are writing to me asking how the situation is here, I feel inspired to write this.

Last shabbat as my roommate and I were walking home from shabbat lunch she said to me that she was worried that when Israel finally attacked Gaza, our friends might be called up to serve. I didn't think so much about it at the time. I wasn't so aware of what the plans really were for when Israel was going to attack, and the only friends that came to mind were the ones in basic training who won't be seeing action for awhile. That evening we found out that while we had that conversation, Israel had begun the attack. It seems silly stating it this way, but since then three of my facebook friends have been called up to reserve duty. I found out this information from their statuses and have read the comments of encouragement from other friends. I guess I forgot that those "old guys" I have as friends served in the army way back when they made aliyah and are now as eligible as any other Israeli to serve in this new war effort.

On a day to day level nothing has changed. If I didn't look at a newspaper (or babysit for the children of a reporter who listens to the headlines at home on the hour) I might never know anything is going on. I guess I am aware of a higher security threat as I board buses and go grocery shopping, but the stores are running as usual and I still need to go out and buy my vegetables despite what is going on an hour away. This past week we were all thankful for another few days of rain and I traveled to Tel Aviv to welcome three friends on aliyah. This is a map from something a friend posted.

Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, and the road from one to the other, are about equidistant from the range of the rockets that have been fired into Israel. Tel Aviv might even be a little closer. I barely gave this a thought as I traveled across the tiny width of the country. It might as well be thousands of miles away.

But it so obviously isn't. Rockets have hit Be'er Sheva. I have friends in school there, and now a friend on reserve duty there. I saw that one has relocated to Jerusalem for now because the siren in her neighborhood wasn't working. One happens to be in the US at the moment. Not that it matters in terms of school-- all schools in range have been closed until further notice. On the second day of school closures a rocket fell directly into a high school classroom. Just take a look at the map above. Israel is a small place. My neighbor from one street over is probably less than two hours away from here, but he's in a war zone.

This semester I'm taking a class called Introduction to Trauma. I felt it was important to learn about trauma if I was going to be working with people in Israel, and it was especially important to learn about it from an Israeli perspective. There are times in class I feel like a complete outsider. I can't relate to being down the street from a bus being blown up or holding my breath until my brother came back from army duty. It almost makes me paranoid of what people I know might be experiencing and how my friends in reserve duty will feel when they are released, or how it effects my many friends just beginning their army service. I wrote something similar after the attack on Mercaz HaRav-- "This is what it feels like to be Israeli."

From my perspective I feel nothing political about the situation. I know that something had to be done about the situation in Sderot and felt very unsure and uneasy about what could be done. I will do as much research as I can before voting in the next prime minister election, but I know that yelling and complaining about anything isn't about to make a difference. I don't want to hear about whether Israel is right or wrong and whether or not it's fair that so many soldiers are risking their lives in Gaza right now. Gilad Shalit has been in Hamas custody for over a thousand days and it's only hit home now that I have friends on the battlefield.

We're all Israelis here. By definition we'll never get tired of yelling and screaming and complaining. But if you want to know what it's like here at the end of the day, we're all just waiting. This won't end tomorrow. I know I'll see more status updates that more friends are being called for reserve duty. So now I'm going to finally force myself to scan through old powerpoints and kick myself to start writing my paper. Later today I'll go babysit for the reporter's children and watch the news there ("Look Daddy! Airplanes!") and tomorrow I'll go to school and sit with both my Jewish and Arab classmates and we'll all be sitting there waiting and thinking how much we hope everyone comes home safely.

"Transitional" "Objects"

I'm going to digress from my usual bouts of ranting and complaining to talk about something else important in my life. This is not to say that I have nothing to complain about. I am still waiting for my Hebrew University student ID card-- very reminiscent of the ATM card incident that inspired the title of this blog. And I failed my driving test for driving too far on the right when I was positive they would tell me the opposite (considering the tester himself told me to move farther to the right at least once). But that's for another time.

The picture above is of my new cousin Yonatan who is just a few days old. I didn't even know his mom was expecting, so it was a great surprise. I now have nine "little cousins." The moms of these kids are sisters, and they are my cousins. I have always treated the kids like spoiled nieces and nephews. I have also given them what I feel is the most important gift-- a spotty dog of their own. Each one was carefully selected shortly after the kid was born. I usually felt it was important to "meet the dog in person" first, but since I won't be seeing Yonatan for awhile I carefully reviewed several different spotty dogs online and chose this nice one with a red bandanna to be shipped to Boston.

This is my Spotty.

I have had Spotty since I was seven years old. He has survived years of physical abuse from two older siblings and undergone extensive amounts of wear and tear from the many adventures he has been on. Spotty is an avid traveler, used to go bungee jumping off the top of the staircase at home in Newton, and frequently assists me in the kitchen. When I was little, among other things, like threatening to put an orange in him so he would be confiscated at customs on our first trip to Israel, my siblings always taunted me that one day I would grow up and move onto other things. I was told that Spotty was a "transitional" "object." Other terms used for this were "over-personified pillow" and "stuffed piece of cloth." I don't know too many "pieces of cloth" with a social life as active as Spotty always had, whether it was playdates with Gila's Tammy, Leora's Honey Nut, or officiating the wedding between Pauline's Jenna and Spotty the Plain... my special dalmatian always kept very busy.

In an article I was reading for school last week I read about Donald Winnicot. He coined the term "transitional object." You can read about his theories here. I agree with most of what he says, except for the timing of how long a transitional object is needed.

Yup, that's right. Spotty not only came with me to Maryland, he graduated too. And as you can see from the picture above, Spotty made aliyah too. One of the first things my brother said to me when I got off the plane was along the lines of "I can't believe Spotty made aliyah. This is incredible, and he brought Rebecca with him too." Well, aliyah is a transition too. So why shouldn't I have a "transitional object" with me for this too? Lucky for both of us we have a roommate who has Doggie, a perfect friend for Spotty.

I could go on about this for awhile, but if those reading this know me at all then I doubt I really have to. Last Spring I babysat for a little boy who at the time was very attached to his blue shovel. His mom commented that it seemed like his transitional object. I asked her if he had any special stuffed animals. She said no, they hadn't found one they liked yet. I responded that one does not choose a transitional object, the transitional object (I use the word object for lack of a better term) chooses you. When I was at the store buying Spotty I really wanted this cat but for whatever reason my mom said no, and I skeptically selected Spotty instead. I think the cat thing has been made up for in Harriet the Spy, but that's a separate issue.

I don't necessarily think that all the Spotty dogs I got for my cousins will be their transitional objects. Some of the kids are more attached to their dogs than others. Eitan, who is now 5, has another bright yellow dog with colorful spots that he also calls Spotty. When I come to their house (Aharon, Adina, and Eitan) they immediately gather their Spotty dogs to play with mine. In the morning they creep into my room, take Spotty from my bed, and when I go downstairs later I see the dogs congregated around a bunch of cereal bowls on the floor. The kids know to be extra gentle with my Spotty dog. It's really sweet. And it's amazing that if I put out a bunch of my stuffed animals, they're just as excited about picking up Spotty as they are about one of my "newer and shinier" furry friends, such as Jack. Eitan always likes to feed Jack cottage cheese. Not sure why the cottage cheese is significant. Here's a picture of Eitan taking Spotty for a ride on his bike, and a picture of Spotty tucked into a mini-bed at the foot of Eitan's bed.



I wish Yonatan a long and happy life with his new spotty dog. He should stay close to him as long as he needs him for... whether it be to hold during a scary doctors appointment (my Spotty was in the room when I had minor surgery several years ago), to help him during a test (Spotty often accompanied me to final exams), or to tell secrets too (my roommates wonder why they never get to hear anything good). I wrote to Yonatan's mom that I hope he enjoys his spotty dog until Yonatan isn't so little anymore and his spotty dog isn't so white anymore. I'm not around so much to teach him the ropes, but I'm sure the other cousins will help out. I know his older sister Devorah already showed him her spotty that I gave her almost four years ago. Judging from the picture above, I say they're going to do very well together.

Shaarei Tefillah Celebrates 25 Years

It is no secret that I'm a huge fan of my shul. Tomorrow night there is a dinner to celebrate the shul's 25th anniversary. Last night an old Shaarei couple in Jerusalem had some members over to celebrate from here. Today I enjoyed celebrating the bat mitzvah of twins girls from a former Shaarei family. I had the pleasure of sitting with another family that made aliyah and three girls here for the year. For the dinner journal, members my age were asked to write about their memories of the shul. My year was the first year of "Shaarei babies." I never got confirmation that what I wrote was submitted in time for the journal, but here it is for all of you.
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My first memories of Shaarei Tefillah are of shabbat morning groups in what was probably a storage closet in the church in Newton Centre. There weren't many of us so it really didn't matter to us. Then we moved to Morseland Avenue. I have vague memories of the new shul being under construction while we davenned in the basement. It was close quarters but again it was the perfect size for our still small congregation. Then the new shul was ready. I was four years old and dressed as Curious George for Purim. I don't know if there were no chairs for logistical reasons or if there just weren't chairs yet. The place seemed huge to me. Shabbat morning groups started meeting in the basement. Everyone, grades 1 through 6, davenned together in one room with high school leaders. We each took turns leading the different tefilot. It is hard to believe that now the main shul is full to capacity every week. Many parents of friends I grew up with are now grandparents, my friends are becoming parents, and the many kids I used to babysit for are now babysitters themselves or applying to college.

At Shaarei, like I'm sure any other shul, members always talk about the pride they take in the community's children. I am blessed to say that the children of Shaarei Tefillah take pride in the shul as well. In my Jewish Studies classes in college I would check the syllabus for books by Shaarei members, or would smile to myself as I quoted one in a research paper. A few weeks ago I was visiting a former “Shaarei kid” and her husband in California and we were bemoaning how much we miss the intellectualism we experienced in shul all our lives. We miss the shabbat drashot that connect Medieval biological studies to the week's Torah portion, something from Greek literature to hilchot shabbat, or some other twisted and unexpected series of sources. “Oh, you go to THAT shul in Newton. I know all about THAT one.” said my Jewish Philosophy professor in college.

It's been a privilege growing up with a shul and community that empowers all its members, from the five year old leading anim zmirotˆto the teenager serving as gabbai sheni to the adult members from all different professions getting the chance to give a shiur and face the challenges of the linguists, historians, rabbis, or the surprisingly brilliant (to visitors at least) doctor who happens to know that particular section of Talmud verbatim. But it's always all in good fun.

The kids who grew up in Shaarei Tefillah will be forever benefiting from the environment they experienced in the shul, and those of us who have since left Newton will seek out similar communities to raise our families in. And hey, if we can't find one we'll just have to start our own. It would be in the spirit of Shaarei Tefillah after all.

Grad School, Elections, and other adventures of the past few weeks

I must start this blog entry, as promised, by mocking another friend's blog. Not that I find anything wrong about the blog. This can be a spoof, if you will.

The other day in my usual half asleep obstacle course that is getting ready for school I was faced with a critical decision. My lighter jeans or darker jeans? As someone who always cares how she's presented to the world, I quickly pulled out my phone and SMSed 50 of my closest friends and asked their opinion. Clearly I should just sign up for Twitter so frequent issues like this can be handled more easily. No, I did not care what else they could be doing at 7am. This was important. I got a response right away. It was the first cousin of the cashier I met while buying a train ticket in the US. It's not important why we're in touch with each other. He wrote darker jeans, so I did. Fifteen minutes later I was on the bus to school. The first person I saw on the bus got very excited when she saw me and said "You wear jeans? I love jeans! You should join me on this exciting project that has to do with clicky pencils. See, there's a business opportunity at every turn. You just have to be prepared, and social networking can make all the difference.

Okay, now that I've written a ridiculous story of which not one bit of it is true (though I did wear jeans to school the other day) just to make a point (I think), on to more important things...

School has begun! And it did so on time! Thanks to a bunch of politicians getting together and making useful negotiations, the universities in this country received enough funds to open their doors. I was relatively optimistic that it would work out, but considering my general optimism has been severely reduced since I moved here I was prepared for the worst. So on November 3rd, I began graduate school at Hebrew University.

So far so good. I can understand my professors for the most part, and I'm learning a lot of transliterated words that sound pretty ridiculous ("flashbackim" being one of my favorites). I'm just not sure Americans can pull off saying these words in an Israeli accent. I try to write as much down as I can. Not that I'm being told anything I haven't heard before. However since my entire grade relies on one paper or test at the end of the semester, I suppose I should keep track of what we talk about. I write my notes in a mix of Hebrew and English. If I can get the Hebrew words down on paper, I do. Or even if I just catch a phrase. Really my challenge is to pick up on the terminology in Hebrew. Though since it's mostly transliterated words, I just have to figure out how to spell them! My notes are an interesting mix of Hebrew and English. In every class there's someone sitting nearby staring over my shoulder. It's both amusing and annoying. Yeah, I know English, so instead of staring maybe cut a deal with me that you'll explain the terminology and I'll try to explain the reading. That's right-- almost all the reading is in English. I tried reading some of the Hebrew stuff... one article with more success than the other. For every class when my classmates spent up to ten minutes bemoaning the fact that they would have to read so much in English I sat back and celebrating the one thing that wouldn't be a challenge for me.

Who are my classmates? In my particular program it's all married women who have kids or are about to. And there's one guy. Still don't know his story because he kindly keeps quiet. There's a mix of religious and non-religious women, but I only know of one or two others that is not married. Makes sense given the nature of the program, but it definitely adds to my feeling of being the minority. Not that I suddenly wish that at age 24 I was married with kids and felt a desperate need to bring them up as examples for every situation. Or maybe they're talking about their own kids. They speak so quickly I have no idea. I'm just dreading the day my teacher turns to me and says "You've been quiet, what do you think?" While I've considered telling all my teachers right out that Hebrew isn't my first language, I'm trying to let them know in more subtle ways. Because I am in the administration track of my program I am in a few classes with a greater variety of students. Variety meaning there are multiple guys, but also women who may be married but do things outside the education field (like working for non-profit organizations). While the material of those classes is less than thrilling, it's more interesting to sit through. I am taking a class called Introduction to Trauma which in theory will be counted towards my program. My classmates are all involved in superly cool things like working in prisons and shelters and runaway homes and clinics. Maybe one of them can get me a job one day, or at least introduce me to other cool people.

I have had two weeks of school. The first week I tried to blend in. I wore what I thought were nondescript clothes. The second week I wanted to be very obviously American so I wore my UMD sweatpants. It's just interesting what makes me so... I guess WEIRD to the people I meet. "What's your first degree in?" "History" "What?" "History" "So what are you doing here?" "Learning to work with young children" "That's a dramatic change in fields." Unfortunately Israelis don't really get the concept of a liberal arts education. I can involve myself in the education field AND educate myself in worldy issues. Crazy, I know. The History geek in me is bigger than I thought. I'll get to that in a second. My other experience was with my homework partner for statistics class. Oh statistics... I told my sister (who just got a PhD in the field) that maybe statistics is more interesting in English, and she said she always assumed it was more interesting in Chinese. Anyway, my partner is a Russian immigrant who made aliyah as a kid. I met her on my first day and ran into her on my second day. She invited me to hang out with her on the grass and offered me a candy bar. This made me happy for lots of reasons. I'm interested in how my social integration into an Israeli school will work out. She asked me how I knew Hebrew, and I said I was taught it since I was 3. She assumed I had Israeli parents or something and I said no, I went to a religious school. She looked down. "But you're wearing pants, you're religious?" I responded that I don't like skirts. She looked confused. "I don't see religious girls who wear pants." Throughout the conversation she occasionally came back to this point. I told her about when I started UMD and was thinking that if people were really going to label me as non-religious that maybe I would decide to always wear skirts. Of course this didn't happen, for so many reasons, and I guess going to minyan every day was a fair indicator that I'm serious about what I do. I just wonder how my other classmates react if they knew that this crazy American with a BA in History who's trying to do an MA in Social Work in Hebrew just one year after arriving in the country is also religious but wears pants. So they think I'm strange. I think they're all really strange too. I told my roommates that I feel like the real Harriet the Spy (from the books) sometimes in class when I don't get what's going on so instead I look around and jump to fun and interesting conclusions about the lives of everyone there.

Me as the History geek. Deep down inside a part of me just wants to go onto an MA in History and somehow come up with the stamina and intellectual whatever to delve into research and teaching for the rest of my life. Really can't see that happening, but in the meantime I am already missing what I switched majors for at UMD. One of my classes is called "Leadership in Education." The professor said that most of the material is History-related and that we will be taking what we learn and applying it to being leaders in education. My face lit up. History, yay! Humanities! I also started reading Barbara Tuchman's "Practicing History" in between classes. I finished the novel I was reading the first week. My mom was always trying to get me to read this book so obviously I didn't for awhile. Then I found it in the house in September and opened it up. It's awesome, highly recommended. It increases the number of weird looks I get, but gives me an important fix. I also wandered through the History section of the campus library. I could have done something practical like check out what Education and Social Work materials they have, but I couldn't resist. Maybe one day in like forty years I can be one of those old people taking history courses at a nearby university.

Elections. I don't know much about politics, but I am truly amazed at my friends' reactions towards Obama's victory in the US. Never saw much hope and enthusiasm among my peers like that. Here in Jerusalem we're also experiencing an exciting period of political change. Nir Barkat, a secular businessman, is going to be the next major of Jerusalem. His victory depended as much as his own supports coming out to vote as it did on the ultra orthodox staying home and not voting for his opponent (who posed a striking resemblance to Santa Claus). Jerusalem is a mess and a lot has to do with too much attention being given to some things and not enough attention to others. Nir Barkat's term will be five years. While I hope that by the end of the term I have been out of Jerusalem for awhile, what he accomplishes in this city is very important to me. Whether it be creating more affordable housing or fixing cracks in the sidewalks. It is so important for Jerusalem to live up to its potential.

And last but not least, though there are probably so many anecdotes I have to share that I can't remember at the moment... Speaking of Jerusalem, I've been doing a lot of reading about it. In Tanach that is. Probably in about an hour or so I will be reading the last chapter of Malachi thereby completing all of Neviim. About a year ago I set out to complete the Nach Yomi project, learning one chapter of Neviim/Ketuvim every day until I complete it. Most of the time it turned into seven chapters every shabbat, but for the most part I kept up. Many things inspired me to do this. Tanach is where it all begins. It's our first account of Jewish history. Last week we read Parashat Lech Lecha in which Avraham leaves his home and family to come to Israel (clearly something I could relate to this year-- more than ever). I'll probably write another blog post about this after shabbat because I think it's deserving of it's own space, but I am excited to share this accomplishment with everyone. Tomorrow I will start Tehilim, and in a year or so I will have finished Ketuvim as well. When I was at HaRova for the year I read through the Chumash, so when I finish Ketuvim I will have read every single word of the Tanach. As I said the rest of my thoughts will be in a future blog post. I didn't even get to write about celebrating various friends going into the army. Some are friends I grew up with, others are ones I met here. I'm so proud of all of them. But shabbat is creeping up on me, and I have to get to Raphi's house!