Seminar Summary and Preceding Adventures
A few weeks ago, I learned about a Shabbaton (Shabbat retreat) being held in the desert by an organization called Ta Shma. Ta Shma is a pluralistic Jewish learning organization based on text study and the familiar Jewish characteristic of argument. Using some recently acquired Hanukkah gelt, I signed up. I slept over at a friend's in Jerusalem and met the bus Friday morning. During the bus ride down to Sde Boker, I began to get a feel for the amazing diversity of the group. We ranged in age from 18 to 70+, not counting the four small kids running around at all times. We were secular and Modern Orthodox and Reform and Reconstructionist and Conservative and Unaffiliated. We were students and volunteers and musicians and rabbis and graphic designers and engineers and social workers and teachers and army recruits. We hailed originally from America and Canada and Australia and England and Israel and Germany and France. Yet we were all excited to spend a challenging weekend struggling over ancient and modern Jewish texts together as Hanukkah began.



The way Ta Shma works, two Jewish professionals from different spots along the religious spectrum conduct every learning session. Texts are presented, the teachers give their first impressions, and then you work with a partner to read through the texts and argue/discuss them. After about half an hour, everyone gets back together to share what he or she has discussed. Then the two teachers speak more about their perspective and explain why the other teacher is wrong/misled. Then the entire groups discusses with the teachers again. This method of learning is based on the Jewish principle of machloket (argument, conflict). The teachers for this Shabbaton were a Reconstructionist rabbi/teacher, an Orthodox rabbi/teacher, and a traditional/non-affiliated rabbi/teacher. Since the teachers always disagreed on the topics they presented together, there was a very open, accepting environment for everyone's points-of-view to be take seriously and seen with validity.



With the background of Hanukkah, the session topics were: Integrate or Isolate? [Like the Jews with the Greeks]; Light in the Midst of Dark [Like the candles of the menorahs burning next to the window facing the great darkness of the desert]; and Relying on Miracles [Like the two main miracles of Hanukkah]. I learned so much both from our teachers and the study partners I had throughout the sessions. We discussed the challenges of integration while remaining distinctly Jewish in this modern age, how it's easier to search within yourself when surrounded by metaphoric darkness, and whether miracles exist in our lives. Outside the sessions, I got to know many of the others on the Shabbaton - each an incredibly beautiful soul. Needing a place to stay the Saturday night we returned to Jerusalem, I crashed at the apartment of a girl a met there who is studying to becoming a Reform rabbi.



Sunday morning began the Otzma Politics and Society Seminar. One of the first sessions discussed the history of Zionism and the three main perspectives the original Zionists had towards the land of Israel and the current Arab inhabitants of the land. I never knew that such diversity existed, from some who thought that the Jews should learn to live as Arabs, even speaking Arabic, to others who always believed the Arabs were land-grubbing primitives. That afternoon we watched clips from seven Israeli films, discussing how the portrayal of Arabs shifted and how the films reflected the current situation of Israel when they were made. If any of you want some recommendations of really great Israeli films, I'd be happy to give a few suggestions.



On Monday morning we visited the West Bank (last email) and then spent the afternoon at the Israeli Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Though we heard three wonderful speakers, my general disinterest in politics does not allow me to give you glowing reviews - after a while it all starts to sound the same to me. All that I really remember are little tidbits, so I'll share a few. Of the three million Arabs in the world, about 2% are connected to the internet. One hour of time in an internet cafe in Baghdad costs about one month's salary for an average Iraqi. Hezbollah, a Palestinian terrorist group, is considered a role model terrorist group because it has learned to make use of modern liberties such as freedom of speech, movement, and business to more easily conduct their illegal activities. Israel is currently part of an International Counter-terrorism Force including the U.S., Britain, Russia, India, Germany, and Australia.



In case some of you were offended by my moderate-to-left leanings made obvious in the previous email, you'd be happy to know that the speakers on Tuesday sent me a bit farther right. We heard a professor of the Palestinian National Movement explain the history of current Islamic and Palestinian movements, both violent and peace-oriented. Then we listened to a Palestinian Arab peace activist. His statements shocked and angered most of us. He told us that although Arafat is their national leader, he cannot be looked to for peace or state building. He therefore expects that Arafat be asked to sign a peace treaty with Israel, and following this, a leader be found among the Palestinians to help them build up their society. According to him, everything is Israel's fault, including the money in Arafat's bank account and the Palestinians' choice of Arafat as their leader. He frequently restated his two main demands: that Arafat sign a peace agreement, and that someone else make peace for the Palestinians. Huh? We also heard from a Jewish peace extremist who made demands almost identical to those of the Palestinian with whom we spoke.



The next day we spoke with Jewish feminist activists. It was interesting (myths about Israeli women in kibbutzim, the army, politics, the workforce, poverty, and violence), although not much I hadn't heard before. Later we met with members of the Jerusalem city council and toured the mixed Arab-Jewish cities of Ramla and Lod, but that's for another email.



Take Care,

Sarah....



PS - In a few hours, my roommates and I need to pack up all our belongings once again. Although we will stay in Beit Shemesh, the Jewish Agency which provides our housing for us is not happy with the current landlords, so we need to move to a new apartment across town in the morning. This is even more exciting because of the five of us Otzma-niks living in Beit Shemesh, two are currently in the states visiting their families. So the remaining three of us get to help move everything (including all the furniture, kitchen supplies, etc.) with the hopeful help of some movers. Joy.

- posted by sarah @ 12/27/2003 10:13:00 PM

 
Seminar - A Trip to the Settlements
First things first - Happy Hanukkah and Merry Christmas to everyone! Wishing you a holiday season filled with peace and love and rest.

Second things second - I'm sorry for being so behind on replies, I haven't had email access for the past week and a half. Hopefully I'll catch up eventually.

Third things third - I've been away on a seminar with Otzma for the past week or so. Even though I wasn't initially excited about a week of Politics and Society, I was pleasantly surprised. I learned so much and was challenged quite regularly. Therefore, I may write a few different emails about this seminar, not necessarily in order.

And now, for the email!

As we all know, the largest point of contention between Israelis and Palestinians (and the rest of the world) is Israel's 'occupation' of the West Bank and Gaza Strip. In order to more fully understand this conflict, Otzma took us to a group of settlements known as Gush Etzion. The Gush settlements, located maybe twenty minutes south of Jerusalem, are less controversial than most others for a number of reasons. The land on which they are located was originally settled in the 1940's, legally purchased from Arab landowners. The settlers lived peacefully for a few years, until 1948 and Israel's War of Independence. At this time Arab armies of Israel's neighbors invaded the Gush and the founders were killed. Nineteen years later, Jews returned to the area and re-founded Gush Etzion, consisting today of eleven communities.

We boarded the buses. Bulletproof buses. This was definitely the first time I'd ever been on a bulletproof bus. Interestingly, they were only bulletproof to a certain point. The top six inches or so of window were of normal glass. We idly wondered what would happen to the stuff we'd put into the bottom of the bus, were it shot at, before realizing that if something like that were to happen, we'd have more pressing issues to worry about.
The road wound up and down the gorgeous Judean hills. We passed tilled fields and olive groves, Arab villages, mosques, and individual homes scattered across the landscape. It all looked so beautiful and peaceful, reminding me of the Israeli Arab villages in the north. Yet parts of the road had concrete walls ten feet tall. They're to protect us, as we traveled by in our bulletproof bus. Because the villages that look so innocent very likely harbor people who would prefer to see us dead.

After listening to a settler explain why 'the settlements are Israel's guarantors of peace' for an hour and a half, a spokesman for the Israeli Defense Force joined our group for a bus tour of some parts of the West Bank. He took us to one of the infamous checkpoints where we witnessed the standard checking of vehicles and ID's of many of the cars and trucks that passed through this particular strip of road. Standing out in the bitter cold were 18 and 19-year-old kids. Soldiers. They wore uniforms and helmets and bulletproof vests and carried machine guns. All of this was new for almost all of us; even our Israeli educator hadn't been to the West Bank for over four years. The spokesman went out and asked one of the soldiers to board our bus and talk to us about his life out there.

His name was Eli. He was 19 and from Haifa. Of course his mother worried about him daily. No, he didn't choose this post. Instead of telling us about Economics 101 and the latest frat party, as he would've done had he born in our part of the globe, he explained his duties at the checkpoint. Depending on the license plates, they stopped specific cars and trucks. The drivers then had to get out of their vehicles and verify that their ID's included the right permits to allow them to drive through or drive through after having their vehicle thoroughly searched. Like the other soldiers, Eli knew no more than a few phrases of Arabic.

At all times, someone else was posted at a lookout tower to insure that no one tried to go around the checkpoints either on foot or by car. When this happened, they would need to go after the offender in a truck. And their guns? Eli explained all the requirements that must be met before he would even begin to think of using a weapon, including that the perceived enemy had a weapon and demonstrated an explicit intent to use it. But the Palestinians always seem nice and friendly - because they want to get through, of course.

We drove on from the post and the spokesman told us more about his own experiences. He said he used to wave through people who were ill and heading to a hospital, even if they didn't have the right permits. But one day he discovered piles of explosives lying beneath a pregnant woman. He no longer waves people through without the proper paperwork. We arrived at another checkpoint. The boys there were joking around. One was going through the whole process of taking off his helmet, gun, and vest, putting on a heavy jacket, and then replacing all the protective gear. As they laughed and joked, I could imagine the camouflage and weaponry and disappearing and the boys blending in on the bleachers of a high school football game. But this was no game.

We met one of these boys. His name was Elad. He's from a kibbutz. He explained that this is the last checkpoint between Gush Etzion and Jerusalem. It's the last opportunity to stop a bomb from entering Israel's largest city. Sometimes it's hard, he explained, to continue paying attention for eight hours straight in the cold, wet weather. But he knew too clearly what he's up against. A few weeks ago, a man concealed a gun in his prayer rug as he entered the checkpoint. He opened fire, killing two men in Elad's company. While the wounded men were taken away, Elad and other members of the same company had to search for man. He has not been found.

And what about the incidents of soldiers treating Palestinians badly? It happens, he admitted. Very rarely, but it happens. "It's hard, standing for ten hours straight. We see thousands of Palestinians every day. And we try to remember all of our humanity, that all of us are created b'tzelem Elokim (in the image of G-d)." When asked about his downtime, Elad immediately grinned and told us about the satellite TV at the base. "We mostly watch sports," he said, "Anything but CNN."

As we left the final checkpoint to return to Jerusalem, the air was filled with the constant backdrop of gunshots in the distance. We passed bulletproof bus shelters and more concrete barriers, used to prevent sniping. They were painted with the words Bo'echem L'Shalom (May your coming be for peace). Peace was one of the last things I could fathom as our bulletproof bus climbed the hills to Jerusalem.
- posted by sarah @ 12/25/2003 01:22:00 AM

 
Israeli Bus Adventures
Buses are an integral part of Israeli society. Yes, there are taxis everywhere, and more and more people are buying their own cars (despite the 150% tax on them). People also still hitchhike and slowly, the train system in Israel is growing. There are also sheiruts, white vans that can take you both within a big city and between cities, and private buses run by the ultra-Orthodox. Yet the main way to get from one place to the next is by bus. With the exception of part of Tel Aviv's local buses, a single company called Egged runs all inter-city and intra-city buses in Israel. Bus fair is quite reasonable, especially traveling from one city to another. It's even more reasonable for Israeli soldiers in uniform who only need to show their ID to ride all buses for free. As you may remember, I've already had some interesting bus experiences [such as getting my sleeping bag caught on some soldier's M-16 while boarding]. This email includes a few more.

My first week in Beit Shemesh, I went to Jerusalem for a large dinner with some family friends who were visiting Israel. My friend Becky was going to spend the weekend at our apartment after going on hikes in the north, so she had a few bags with her. Seeing as I had only lived in this town a few days, I took a map with me. The bus driver said that the main road I lived near wasn't on his route, so as we drove, I tried to follow along with my trusty map. Becky and I got off as close to my home as I could try and started walking. We walked and walked, carrying her bags, until we came upon a stop light. This was a bad thing. There are only two stop lights in Beit Shemesh, and the entrance and exit of the city. I re-examined my map. In fact, we had just walked a hilly twenty minutes in the exact wrong direction. With a grunt and a sigh, we began to retrace our steps. An hour after the bus dropped us off we were finally home.

So in the middle of the week, I decided to head up to Jerusalem to see a friend. Unlike smaller cities, Jerusalem is place where it is not uncommon to see a large chunk of area blocked off for about thirty minutes while police and security come to examine a phenomenon known as a hefetz hashud (suspicious object). These are generally bags or backpacks that someone put down and forgot or was planning to return for quickly, but you can never be too careful. It has also happened numerous times that bags left unattended had actually really been bombs. So when a hefetz hashud is found, the area is closed off, the bomb squad is brought in, and often the object will be exploded just in case. Hope you didn't need your school books!

Here I was, a Wednesday afternoon, heading to Jerusalem for a night with a friend. So as I sat back in my seat on the bus, trying to squeeze in a nap, I hear a commotion in the aisle. The driver had asked a man to sit down but apparently there was a backpack in the seat. No one knew whose it was. So some of the passengers started yelling and asking around if it was anyone's bag or if anyone knew who had left it. Meanwhile, the person in front of me (and seated directly behind the mysterious backpack) starts squirming and is about to move to a seat further away. The dreaded words hefetz hashud are being mumbled in the back and my heart starts to beat faster. I see the bag, it's just a kid's backpack. What's the big deal. But I know the big deal. Finally an older lady remembers two girls who had been sitting in that seat not too long ago and had gotten off the bus. A man comes from the front of the bus to retrieve the bag. Nothing happens. I stare out the window, a nap out of the question.

The night was great, a wonderful dinner with someone I hadn't seen for over a year. When I arrived at the bus station in Jerusalem, the elevators didn't seem to be working. Compared to the Tel Aviv central bus station, the one in Jerusalem is quite small. It is only three floors, the first two crammed with stores and restaurants and shops, a regular mall. The top floor is where all the buses depart from. I climbed the stairs to the second floor, and was there met by a mass of people. Soldiers were guarding all the stairs and escalators. No one was being allowed up. Obviously another hefetz hashud. So I sat down on the ground and started talking to a woman who had apparently already been waiting fifteen minutes. As I began to take out my book she did the same and I see that it's in English. Though it's not uncommon for people here to speak three languages well, they almost always only read books in their mother tongue, be it Hebrew, English, Russian, or even Arabic. Knowing that I didn't need to struggle through a Hebrew conversation with her, we started talking again, this time in English. Fifteen minutes later, we were finally allowed back upstairs. Apparently whatever cause there was for concern had been cleared up. And due to the half hour delay, most of the buses were already at their gates, waiting for the passengers. I napped all the way home.

Now last weekend I also found myself heading to Jerusalem. Thursdays I work in a school in Ramat Beit Shemesh, and instead of coming back to Beit Shemesh before going to Jerusalem, I opted for waiting at the bus stop right outside the school. A bus pulled up. It wasn't an Egged bus (the national bus company), but a private bus. It was headed from Ramat Beit Shemesh (mostly ultra-Orthodox) to B'nai B'rak (an ultra-Orthodox section of Tel Aviv). An older lady had flagged the bus to stop. The bus pulled further forward until the back door was in front of the stop. The lady got on. Yes, this was one of the hundreds of private, ultra-Orthodox buses that went from one religious center to another. [In case you were wondering, this means Ramat Beit Shemesh, B'nai B'rak, Me'ah She'arim (in Jerusalem), and Tsfat.] Women sit in the back, men in the front. No exceptions. In order to prevent women from having to pass through the men's section after paying the driver, women pay separately in the back.

The private bus pulled away. A few moments later, another bus arrived. Although it was a route I'd never taken before, I verified with the driver that it went to Jerusalem. Watching the people get on was quite interesting. There were secular, Modern Orthodox, and ultra-Orthodox men and women. Although ultra-Orthodox men may appear to all dress the same, there are very many different groups and subgroups they belong to, each delineated in their dress. The standard is a white shirt with black pants, shoes, jacket, kippah, and hat. The jackets may differ between groups, but not as significantly as the hats. Depending on the brim size, height, and band, a dozen groups can be differentiated. Sitting on the bus that afternoon, five ultra-Orthodox men walked on one after another, paid the driver, and looked for a seat. They were wearing five different black hats. The diversity in similarity amused me.

I dozed off once again. (You would think I could stay awake for a forty minute bus ride. You would be wrong.) The next thing I knew, I was in a city. Which city, I had no idea. I hoped it was Jerusalem, though we were certainly beyond the central bus station. It was an ultra-Orthodox section, possibly Me'ah She'arim. Panicking, I got off at the next bus stop, for all I knew the bus was soon headed to B'nai B'rak in Tel Aviv. I looked around desperately for street signs. There were none. Taxi after taxi passed me. I was getting very very nervous. Thank goodness I was wearing a skirt, but I still stuck out like a sore thumb. I had on long sleeves, a jacket, a denim skirt to my ankles, and sandals. Though I easily could've blended in with Modern Orthodox girls and seminary students in downtown Jerusalem, not a soul in Me'ah She'arim would dream of wearing a denim skirt or sandals. Thankfully, I was able to flag down a taxi after a few minutes. Fourteen shekels later I was dropped off in downtown Jerusalem.

I only just learned, this past Saturday night returning home from Jerusalem, that you could buy a kartisia for Beit Shemesh--Jerusalem buses. A kartisia is a little card that you get punched every time you get on a bus instead of paying. Besides the convenience, they also save you money. I had paid 13.20 shekels seven times before discovering that with a kartisia, each trip only cost 7.80 shekels. But at least now I'm guaranteed to have even more bus adventures with the round trip to Jerusalem costing about $3.50.

Happy Hanukkah,
Sarah....
- posted by sarah @ 12/18/2003 01:21:00 AM

 
A Conversation and Some Photos
One of the greatest advantages to internet in our home is communication. For me, this includes both email (like right now - duh!) and instant messenger. I used instant messenger constantly back in the States, and it's comforting to be able to use it again. The following is from a conversation I had with one of my friends in Florida. I figured maybe after that last email you were wondering about the same things, so copying the conversation could help clarify some things.

Friend: So, I'm reading your email right now (sorry, I'm slow). Do the high school kids really just not show up?

YoursTruly: Yeah. Really and truly, they average about 40% attendance, half of whom don't come with their books (or haven't bought them yet for that matter).

F: Wow. That's worse than college here. Jerusalem seemed to have a lot of up hill both ways journeys too. How do they do that?

YT: By making it super hilly, silly, so you walk: up down up down up down. Then the return trip is: down up down up down up. Whew.

F: It's super cool that you get to see the whole spectrum by having both schools - the poor high school and the nice elementary school. Are they secular schools? Or, I guess no Israeli school is totally secular? How's that work?

YT: Hehe. You're smart, kiddo. Actually, in the Jewish Education seminar I'm taking, we had a whole day discussing how in Israel there's not really such things as secular schools. Even in the "secular" schools, Bible, Judaism, and Jewish history is taught. But, yeah, both schools are not the national religious schools, just the national schools. Though in the evenings sometimes we work individually with girls from a local national religious high school. Even though both schools that I work in are "secular," the groups of students are very different religiously. In the high school, most of the kids are Sephardi or Mizrachi (their families were originally from North Africa or the Middle East), so therefore quite traditional. Many of them wear kippot and nearly every student kisses every mezzuzah he or she walks through. In contrast to that, in the elementary school, so I've heard, the parents are super secular. Completely.

F: Do you work with the kids from the religious high school to help catch them up in English?

YT: No, not at all. In fact, in national testing, the national religious school students always get the best marks on everything, consistently. Then the national schools, then the "independent" (ultra-Orthodox) schools, and then the Arab schools. So using standardized test results, highest to lowest is: religious, secular, ultra-Orthodox, Arab. We work with the religious girls more just to give them an extra boost. It's not during school hours for these girls. They meet in the evenings because they're just self-motivated like that.

F: Wow. Impressive. Are you loving helping? What do you do? Talk to people in English? Or more organized, book type stuff? Or what?

YT: Yeah, I'm loving helping. I'm not loving needing to leave home at 7:20 in the morning though. Ugh. What I do with them really depends. With the elementary kids, sometimes I just talk to the kids who have English-speaking parents and are therefore really ahead of the game. Sometimes I take them out in groups, and sometimes I just help out in the classroom with whatever the teacher is doing. In the high school, usually we are given a bookwork assignment to do. If it looks like they'll do it, we do it, with me usually explaining what I can in Hebrew and listening to their Hebrew translations and hoping to make sure they know what they're reading. Sometimes I'm just given students in a room with no instruction or anything, so then I try to just talk with them in English. Also, I do this after they've finished their bookwork. But since the only thing they really need to do is pass the Bagrut, it's really only best to do strictly book work. [The Bagrut is a national standardized test given on multiple levels in various subjects that is used to determine who can receive a degree from high school as well as who is accepted to college or university. It's similar to New York's Regents exams.]

F: Do they want to be able to speak English (is it cool)? Or do they just want to be able to pass the Bagrut and move on with life?

YT: Definitely the latter. These are, for the most part, kids with no real use for English. The won't be going to university or even college. After the army they'll just get jobs...or not. Not even all the English TV and radio makes a difference to them. The TV shows have subtitles and they don't really need to know what the music is about anyway. Honestly, they simply don't care. They just hang out with each other all the time. They don't really care about the Bagrut either, or they'd come more often. They all know they go to the worst school in the city and one of the worst ones in the country, so that also just feeds in on it. Education is also not really encouraged at home either. It's just something they have do until they don't have to do it anymore.

F: Wow. That sort of sucks. Is that a depressing atmosphere to work in?

YT: For the most part, yeah, but you can't be depressed during school hours, because you're too busy trying to control them or watching your back or making sure they're not insulting you or hurting each other.


F: Wow. Crazy. And yet it's fun?


YT: Um....rewarding, maybe?

F: Okay. So that's good then. And how was your Tel Aviv weekend?

YT: It was good. I stayed with a girl who goes to Tel Aviv University and her family. Also, two other Otzma-niks were with us for Shabbat, which was really nice because I hadn't seen them in three weeks. It was really good and very relaxing. I lost some of my CDs and was completely distraught, but I got a phone call about two hours ago that they were finally found. That's really good. I'm going to see the girl again during Hanukkah so I can get them back then.

Of course, the conversation continued into girly, close friend talk, and I'm not sure you'd be interested in that. And, well, if you are, then too bad. It was private anyway. So there.

However, I have finally developed my photos from the past three months or so. The links below should take you to the albums I've put together. If you have any trouble viewing these, just let me know and I'll send them to you a different way.

Tiyulim (Trips)
From the moment we set foot in Israel, we started going on tiyulim (trips/hikes). Here's a taste...
http://www.ofoto.com/BrowsePhotos.jsp?&collid=95479770805&page=1&sort_order=0

Ashkelon Adventures
Ashkelon, Beit Canada, Kalanit, Kiryat Malachi: the madness that was Track One -- August 18th to November 12th, 2003.
http://www.ofoto.com/BrowsePhotos.jsp?&collid=42017185705&page=1&sort_order=0

Shefar'am
Part of Sukkot break was spent volunteering in the Arab city of Shefar'am.
http://www.ofoto.com/BrowsePhotos.jsp?&collid=34600330805&page=1&sort_order=0

Halloween
So what if Halloween's a pagan holiday? Let's get dressed up!
http://www.ofoto.com/BrowsePhotos.jsp?&collid=47392330805&page=1&sort_order=0
- posted by sarah @ 12/10/2003 01:19:00 AM

 
Welcome to Beit Shemesh!
So of course I avoided writing to you for the past few days, knowing that I'd have more to say if I just waited one more day and one more day. The result is, of course, that it's nearly three in the morning and I'm leaving to go to Tel Aviv for the weekend soon, and it's cold and I still haven't written anything. Hopefully you can understand that this is a good thing. I've been so busy with so many exciting projects that even though I can check my email constantly, I haven't had many solid blocks of computer time to write.

What have I been so busy with that it's more important than writing to you, you may ask? Volunteering, of course! Although our schedules are still not finalized, I have a pretty good idea of what I'm going to be doing for the next three months.

On Sundays and Thursdays I help out in an elementary school. This school is very different from most other Israeli schools. It's sort of like the equivalent of a magnet school with a specialization in languages and cultures. The children and parents are interviewed before they are accepted and the entire building is beautiful and new. The class size is limited to around twenty (not thirty-five) and all the teachers seem very enthusiastic.The halls are filled with projects about various cultures and the children begin learning English seriously in first grade.

I work with the school English teacher, either helping in the class or taking students out who need additional help. Like most young children, when they're together and their teachers aren't around they go crazy. No exception here. Even though they begin learning English very early, I still can mostly communicate with the students only in Hebrew. I've only gone here once so far, so I'll keep you posted.

On Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays I work in a local high school. This high school is notorious throughout all of Beit Shemesh. In great contrast to the magnet school, the students here come from families that put much less pressure on academics and education. The students don't want to be there, many of the teachers don't want to be there, and it's just an overall negative environment. However, I switched my original schedule so that I'd be able to spend the majority of my time here, making more of a difference than perhaps at other volunteer sites.

So far at this school I've worked both alongside the English teachers and individually with students. Some of the students are quite bright and it's a pleasure to work with them (especially because then I can speak English instead of my still fragmented Hebrew). Another interesting class-size phenomenon occurs at this school. I was helping in the same class on both Monday and Tuesday. The teacher informed me that 25 people were enrolled in the class. On Monday, about 12 showed up. On Tuesday, about 13 showed up. Of the 13 in the second group, only three had also been to class the day before.

In the afternoons, I help in a children's library. This help ranges from shelving, sorting, entering new books into the database, helping people find books, and assisting with homework. I love working here because I absolutely love libraries. Perhaps luckily, I can't spend hours and hours reading books instead of shelving them because about half are in Hebrew, French, or Russian. We will also begin to help plan a boookfair for the library in the coming weeks.

An exciting part of living here is the walking. It's been quite cold here in Beit Shemesh (literally, "House of the Sun") for a Florida girl, getting down to about 37 degrees F (3 C). It also rains nearly every day. Beit Shemesh is incredibly hilly and walking to each of our volunteer sites takes about thirty minutes. The remarkable thing about these walks is that it somehow manages to be uphill both ways. Who knew?

Yawn. I know this is a poorly written email. I apologize. But now it's time for bed.
Have a Good Weekend,
Sarah....
- posted by sarah @ 12/05/2003 01:17:00 AM