running on empty

Somehow we all have to recharge (said a tired mommy who is typing this with one hand) pardon the punctuation, i'm trying to get a little guy to fall asleep with the other hand, and out of his room, because tonight he is keeping his older brother up

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I have all these creeping ambitions. I want my kids to read chumash well. I want my kids to enjoy reading chumash. I want them to come up with insights and ask thoughtful questions. I want them to be deeply engaged with Torah and Judaism. I want them to be creative. I want them to listen.

I keep steering myself more towards correcting their behavior and middos, but I keep having academic-related freak-outs. In a way, we are all lolling around, waiting for the next big thing. There is a part of me yelling to declare summer to be over, and go back to a structured scheduled life. But another part of me laughs: whom am I kidding, I am in no position right now to enforce that sort of structure, and we will all end up even more unhappy as a result. Another part of me is calling to play total hooky from life, spend a day in pajamas, don't worry about anyone davening or doing chumash or eating sugar for breakfast or watching too much Pokemon. In the great scheme of things, one day like that will not harm anyone, but I do not think it will get us out of our current listlessness.

In the meanwhile, I try to keep on working on myself, hoping that the kids will pick something up from my example. I am taking a layning class for women, and we are almost done. Originally I signed up to take it because 9 yo expressed interest in learning trop, but I am thoroughly enjoying it now. Unexpectedly, 3 yo comes over when I practice, and wants to sing along. The way it is going, she will know to read trop before she learns the letters.

I am almost done with Yeshaya in Nach Yomi. I have not been doing it daily, but getting to it most of the time. Unlike Melachim, Yeshaya does not have a story line. Artscroll translation is quite an improvement over Judaica Press, but, in my current scatter-brained state, it has been hard to follow. I am still grappling with how it is nevua necessary for future generations, especially since so much of it had to do with Sancheriv and Bavel, and the rest is ambiguous whether it already came true or is yet to be fulfilled. I am considering myself surveying Nach for now, and I can always go back as need be, when I am more lucid.

I have also started playing around with watercolors. I am horrible at it. I also was confronted with my lack of sketching skills; it is something on my bucket list, and I joked that when the kids are older I will take art classes, but with youtube tutorials and books galore, why not now? So far, the amazing effect is that I started to perceive nature in a totally different way. With my biology training, every tree was a complex factory of photosynthesis and food storage. It was an amazing machine, performing synchronized functions. Any particular tree did not interest me, unless I could name which kind it was. Now, with the artsy perspective, I see trees as masses of light and shadow. I see atmospheric perspective effect on distant trees. I see leaves in clumps, reflecting light. I see the light bounce from the ground. I see endless variations in the bark. I see each tree as a fascinating object, waiting to be teased out and sketched.

Will I ever need to layn? Will I ever teach Yeshaya? Will I ever draw? I do not know, but, for now, the learning is enjoyable. I hope my kids will see this and be able to apply it to whatever they would want to explore.

choices

I am sitting down to nurse, and that is "me" time. I have a chance to read quietly while sitting down for a few minutes. What should I pick? There is my brand-new Yeshaia, released by Artscroll. There is Prayer for the State and Prayer for the State of Israel, with sources and halachot. There is a memoir I got out from the library. There is Time and Discover. Finally, there is Good Housekeeping. What will I pick?

It is easy to go with a magazine; the quick nature of nursing, with interruptions, makes reading pleasurable little nuggets of information easier than following a chain of thought in a book. It is easy to go with an easy read. It is hard to pick Yeshaia. My Nach Yomi went on hiatus when I had the baby, but the real reason was the total unexpected nature of the book. There was not a story line, and I could not yet pick up a pattern to follow from perek to perek. Also, Judaica Press's Yeshaia was hard to read, both in language and in the dense commentary. I stumbled, and  the baby just led to whirlwind where daily learning came last. I did not have time!

Or did I?

I open the fridge searching for a snack. There is a Costco-sized bag of baby carrots. There are apples which require just a quick rinse. There is yogurt and cheese. And then there is toffee and cheesecake, leftover from Shavuos. Cheesecake is my weakness, I never met a cheesecake that did not call to me. What will I pick?

Everyday, we are surrounded by choices. Usually we know what is the right choice, but usually we can rationalize why the choice that is best for us (Yeshaia instead of a magazine, carrots over cheesecake) is not the choice that we are making. Just a few years ago, my grown-up sister confessed how strange it is to be that grown-up and be responsible for what you eat and how you spend your money. All of a sudden, nobody is telling you what to do. Yet we take kids, tell them what to do, send them to others who tell them what to do some more, and then, one day, expect them miraculously to develop this uncanny self-direction. We want THEM to choose baby carrots over cheesecake and Yeshaia over magazines. We want THEM to practice drums and do math problems for fun.

The boys restarted taekwondo. One day, I dropped them off a few minutes before their class and then shopped in nearby farmer's market. When I picked them up, I asked them about their class. 9 yo burst out crying; TV was on in the lounge, and since they were a few minutes early, they decided to watch for a bit. But then they watched and watched and watched and never went to their class. Then 9 yo started getting homesick and when I pulled up, he realized that he missed the class! I was speechless: how can you be dropped off for a class and not notice everyone else go in?! I decided that he has to write a letter of apology to the master, and we talked about it not happening again.

When I cooled off a bit, I saw that this was a chance for a perfect lesson in self-regulation. Nobody has to tell them when to go to class and when to turn off TV. If the consequence is missing one class and being a bit embarrassed in front of their teacher, that's the risk I am willing to take. They have to make a choice to be on time, not me always prodding them along.

I am viewing this unschooling opportunity as a perfect chance to work on self-regulation and self-control. At the same time, I am forced to figure out what am I doing. Am I being as virtuous as I would like to believe I am? Do I self-regulate because it is good for me? Am I making good choices?

Today I stuck with Yeshaia.

Continuation of Nach Yomi

I am almost done with Melachim, for which I was using Artscroll Rubin edition. I have been reading a perek a day, in English, and then reading through the commentary to that perek.

There were a few things I liked about that edition:

• The translations and the commentary are fairy well-written.
• Side bars contain helpful information, introducing each new king or event, so it is easy to follow the narrative. 
• The haftorahs are marked on the side.
• The text is clearly set.

Unfortunately, the Artscroll did not continue with the rest of Nach. There is a translation of pshat (literal text), but no commentary. The only options I encountered were Judaica Press edition and fully translated Rashi on chabad.org . Having such slim pickings, I decided to get Judaica Press Isaiah and see how it goes.

One of the nice things about Artscroll is their clearly-set text. Judaica Press edition was copyrighted in 1983, and it shows, ad once is forced to squint at the text, especially the Hebrew commentaries. It looks like xeroxes of some older edition of Mikraot gedolot. I am not sure how the translation will be, whether it is literal or poetic, and whether modern or archaic English is used.

Which makes me wonder: is there no market for Nach to be translated and elucidated for detailed study in English? Or is it supposed to remain a closed book unless you are fluent in Biblical Hebrew and are at ease navigating through mounds of commentaries? Or is the baal teshuva market saturated with self-help and insirational books, so there is no place left for in-depth learning?

Much of Melachim is not a fun, inspirational read. This is a nation, split in two, declining, at times at the brink of civil war, in upheaval, and not living up to its potential. There are miracles and horrors, but, at the end, there will be exile. None of the miracles have the lasting effect, and neither do the horrors. People do whatever they see fit, from the kings, to the priests, to the commoners. The end result is exile. A sobering message indeed. Is this not an important lesson?

For now I will stick with Judaica Press and I hope that other publishers wake up and make the rest of the Nach accessible to the less educated. Rambam wrote in Arabic, to make his works available to the masses, so are we holier and more perceptive than Rambam?

update on Nach Yomi

For those who followed, you might remember that I took up to read a perek of Nach every day, to see what is commitment like and to serve as an example to 8 yo in his drum practice. Here is the original post. This is an update on how it's been going.

Till mid-October, I have been faithfully reading a perek a day. I got into a routine with it, at least reading the p'shat in English, sometimes reading the commentaries, too, sometimes just skimming on those pesukim where I had questions. Then my sister got married, and we trekked to New York and spent a good week traveling. At that point, even though I brought Navi with me, I fell off. There was too much going on, there was no routine, and there was no emotional energy flowing towards it. After berating myself a few nights for not getting it done, I decided to let go till I get back home. Then it took a good week to fall back into any sort of normalcy, and Navi has not been on the radar. I finally got back into it, but it has not been in the same groove that I had before the wedding. I have been starting on it too late in the night, and falling asleep while reading. When I fell asleep in the middle of Ammon and Tamar's story, I knew that the material had nothing to do with it; my choice of time and level of exhaustion were to blame.

So I have not been as consistent about it since October. I did finish Shmuel Beit two nights ago. I have been surprised at the end of it; I took Shmuel Beit in highschool, but I guess I do not remember that we did not finish the sefer. The wars of David, the census, the enigmatic threshing floor for sale to stop the plague; none of these stories rang the bell. I am also slowly crawling my way through "Lies My Teacher Told Me", and the central point of that book is that history is written by the winners. Even 8 yo noticed that. He wondered why we do not have more history from the rest of the world, why is everything taking place first in the Mesopotamia, then in the Mediterranean and then in Europe. Perfect case for why history survey courses are called Western Civilization.

Shmuel Beit is written by Davidic dynasty to establish it. Even though David had all these wonderful qualities quoted by Chazal ( conquering his yetzer hara, humility, zealotry for Hashem, desire to build the Beit Hamikdash), he does not come off as quite a popular king. It takes seven years for people to even recognize his anointment, and then he has three major rebellions during his lifetime. Oh, and his general is a serial killer, yet David's hands are metaphorically tied. I wish I had a chavrusa to work through particularly enigmatic and disturbing parts of the book.

I will continue to Melachim. That is the last volume that we have in Artscrol Rubin edition. At the rate I am going, I do not know how long that will take me. Maybe they will publish the next volume by the time I finish.

As for the drumming: 8 yo seems to pass into the area where practice is fun. He is practicing on his own, and we trade the minutes he practices for Pokemon movie time. His teacher says that his drumming has improved. He can show it off now, even though it still does not sound perfect. His commitment seems to be more solid than mine.

this one is not a mentch

This past Shabbos, R. Chanoch Teller was a guest speaker in our shul. He gave a class about being a mentch (an admirable person). He started by saying how all parenting classes tell parents to love their children, but that a lot of them do not say that it is much easier to love your children if they are well-behaved and are mentches.

Overall, I agree. It is easier to love a child who is lovable. But what about your child who is not? What if your child is the one who is throwing a major tantrum? What if your child routinely bites/hits/hurts/screams at you and his siblings? What if your child makes you wonder where he came from, because he is not like you and like your other kids?

Before I go further, let me clarify that this is not a parenting issue, that your other kids are being brought up in the exact same way, in the exact same household, but their behavior is more reflective of your expectations, while this one child is off the wall. If all your children are off the wall, then you might need to reexamine your parenting.

You have that one child who is different. The one who melts down over the slightest things, the one who drives you nuts, the one for whom you wish there were parents to call and to complain to, except that you are the parent. What are you supposed to do?

All of a sudden, a chorus of blaming voices materializes. These voices usually find fault in the parent.

• It's your genetics, you must have had undiagnosed (or diagnosed) ADD or some other disorder and now look what you transmitted.
• It's your reluctance to medicate, there must be a nice pill which will magically turn your little monster into a human.
• It's your eagerness to medicate, must be that one of those drugs is causing a side effect, and you are blindly shoving more medicine in.
• If only you would cut out gluten/sugar/carbs/food coloring/dairy, you would see such a difference.
• If you were only stricter and show who is the boss, the child would obey.
• If you only hugged them and held them during tantrums, then they would feel comfortable and not have to express themselves this way.
• If only you would have held off on those vaccines, your child could have been normal.

The list goes on...

I included the items from both sides of the aisle, since I find that both sides scream themselves hoarse over the choices they make or regret making. The overall sense of guilt and wrongdoing starts to envelop the parent, who is coming to grips that this child will not be a conventional child. The parents either are paralyzed by realization that this is not going away, or seek out every single cure in hope that one of them will do the trick.

What happened to embracing differences? What happened to realizing that not everyone is cut out to be mentch by temperament? What happened to accepting the child for who he is, warts and all?

King David
http://www.biblewalks.com/Photos30/DavidHarp8.jpg

David HaMelech was a warrior by temperament. By plain p'shat, same temper which caused him to act fearlessly in battle led him to audaciously seize Batsheva and concoct a cover-up with Uriah. Despite all the whitewashing of the story, David's actions were not in accordance with Hashem's will; he clearly performed an evil deed, and confessed later that he sinned. The larger question is: why is this story recorded, especially since it has to come with so many explanations of how it is not as bad as it sounds? It must be that an important lesson is hidden in there: even a great personality is not always acting as a mentch.

Based on midrashim, David's own family did not think very highly of him. He was odd, he was weird, he was different, he did not seem suited for leadership, and he wrestled bears and lions with his bare hands. Does not sound like a nice yeshiva bochur. His parents probably stayed up at night, whispering and shaking heads, wondering what would become of him. But he was given an opportunity to be a shepherd, stay in the wilderness, play his harp, expend his energy, find what suits him.

Are we giving our difficult children the same opportunity? Are we depriving them of a chance to become the next great leader by constantly squeezing them into a box that is too small? Do all of them have to behave like a mentch all the time? Do we have to point out every time how they do not measure up?

I am guilty of this. I have a child who is not like either my husband or me. Today I wish there were some parents somewhere to call and to complain to about how his behavior is just plain wrong. But now, sitting down, I think how this child is most likely to behave like a mentch in the most unexpected situations: share something, help someone, make someone feel better, tune in to the feelings of others. As I enlarge the box, his finer qualities manage to squeeze in, too, and overshadow the inappropriate behaviors.

I need to find more opportunities for this child to shine.

The presence of kids in shul

From 613 Torah Ave, Vayeilech:
A boy breaks a jar of marmalade. Strangers make nasty remarks:
-Small children do not belong in stores!

-Excuse me, sir, I do not mean to show disrespect,
But tell me, how do you expect,
A child to learn to get on along,
If are you always keeping them at home?

-Yes, you must take him out each day
And show him what's the proper way
He may, indeed, make some mistakes,
And you will pay for the mess he makes
But in raising a child, that's what it takes.

-We learn this lesson, without fail,
From the special mitzvah of Hakhel

(A quick background: the mitzvah of Hakhel involved gathering up the entire nation once every seven years for the king to read parts of the Torah. The explicitly mentioned parties are men, women, small children and converts.)

The song can be found here.

I did not grow up with 613 Torah Ave tapes, so we are discovering them together. Not every single piece is meaningful or well-thought-out, but this particular part resonates strongly with me. It is hard to grocery shop with kids. It is hard taking them all to the post office, or the cleaner's or any other store. The errand is not efficient, and things are bound to get ruined. You are bound to get some dirty looks and remarks. But that's what it takes. Rashi comments that the reason the small children were brought to Hakhel was to give reward to their parents. So, it was not for them to learn Torah, or to listen to it, but for their parents to show that Torah is so precious to them, that they will drop everything, inconvenience themselves, and bring their kids. Something tells me that national gathering was not quiet and produced quite a few gray hairs in parents.

What if the Torah placed decorum over the importance of the learning experience?

I am well into Shmuel I in my Nach Yomi. In the first perek, it talks about how Elkanah would go up to Shiloh once a year and bring his family with him. Abarbanel comments that he brought "even his young children in order to inculcate them with the pure fear of G-d that would come from the atmosphere and service at the holy place, and so that the presence of the entire family would increase the joy of the festival observances". Unless children were different in those days, I strongly doubt that it was an easy undertaking. After all, Elkanah was a wealthy individual, couldn't he leave the children with the nannies at home? Couldn't he leave the wives at home, as well? Women do not have an obligation to pray, and he was the one bringing korbanot on their behalf. However, apparently there was a learning experience there not to be missed. Maybe when Chana saw what Penina's children were gaining from exposure to the Mishkan, she got an additional motivation to pray for a child. After all, the essence of our prayer is based on Chana's prayer, the prayer of one who had no obligation to pray.

Where am I going with all this?

I believe the above sources corroborate two points:
1. Children belong in shul and are expected to become the members of the community from an early age.
2. The prayer of women should be encouraged.

These two points are closely related to one another, especially in the modern setting of a shul. If women (of any age) are encouraged to come to shul to daven, they will be bringing children to shul. If the shul provides an atmosphere which encourages women to bring their children to shul, the children get to learn by observing and participating in davening, and the mothers can get a chance to daven. If the children feel valued as members of a congregation, performing such functions as holding doors, opening and closing the aron, changing page numbers, setting up and cleaning up kiddush, let alone singing Adon Olam, they are more likely to look forward to growing up and joining the congregation in prayer.

Too often, a shul places decorum over the needs of its congregation. A place full of decorum most likely has fidgety adults as well, same fidgety adults who hush the mothers who dare bring their kids in. The mothers do not feel welcome, and so they leave. The kids are discouraged from being inside: after all, how long can a child sit still in a place where he has no function? He has two paths: either learn the grown-up language and outperform them (for example, by extending Amens longer than anyone else), or drop out. Then we have a crisis of kids leaving the fold. And how many Chanahs never get a chance at a heart-felt prayer?

I will finish with three anecdotes, all showing how decorum has nothing to do with kavanah.

I attended a bar-mitzvah in Richmond, VA, right before Rosh HaShana. The shul there does not have a ton of kids, but a boy went up on Friday night to sing Yigdal. He marched up, was draped in a tallis and then belted out... Adon Olam! There was a pause, he was corrected, caught his place, and then continued, with the congregation joining in. He made a mistake, but he learned a most valuable lesson: his service is valued, and when he stumbles, there is a community which will correct him and set him on his way.

What if the boy was booed instead, or not allowed to say Yigdal at all?

During Shabbos day, right as bar-mitzcah speeches were starting, Mr. Griff, the gabbai, motioned that he has something to add. Now Mr. Griff is old-school, he is all for proper decorum. He is imposing, and he looks just, as his name sounds: someone who very clearly indicates what flies in his shul and what doesn't. I do not know how many rabbis he saw come and go, but he runs the place. What Mr. Griff had to say was surprising to me: he spoke how the bar-mitzvah boy, while being a wee one, would go up with his father to open the aron, holding on tightly to his father's hand. Then, when he got older, and realized that Mr. Griff will not eat him, he would wait for his cue, and go up on his own. And look at him now, reading his parsha!

What if Mr. Griff did not tolerate little boys on the dais, never welcoming them up?

The most personally inspiring davening of recent memory happened on our trip to Israel. On Shabbos morning, we were brought to a fairly standard Israeli shul. I had to rummage for nusach Ashekanz siddur, the mechiza was a white curtain, and the davening was moving at a brisk pace. But there was an incredible kavanah (intent) in the room. When the congregation recited the prayer for the Israeli soldiers, they inserted the names of the kids from that shul who are serving. When they mentioned Tzion and Yerushalayim, it was not an abstraction standing in the way of kiddush, but a real place, so close to their hearts. When the baal koreh read from the Torah with a kid draped over his shoulder, nobody flinched. Nobody flinched, either, when he took that kid to the restroom, and another person took his place for one aliyah. There were some women in shul, and some kids. There was no pomposity, just an earnest expression of a congregation.

Isn't that what tefila is supposed to be about? 

No yelling today

This morning, I checked the weather and it was cloudy and cool, without any chance of rain. I decided to take kids to the zoo: because they have not been there in a long time, because they kept asking me when are we going to go and because I yell less when we are out. Maybe it's being in public. Maybe I feel better when they are doing their own learning and exploring and I can hang back. Maybe because I like trips.

Also, at breakfast table, I announced to the boys that I will try to yell less. I kind of asked them to help me out, both by listening and by reminding me not to yell. 8 yo did remind me once. I thought I was still keeping my cool, but I guess he sensed the elevation in tone before I did, so I stopped. The kid who was being "addressed" stopped, too.

So we did go to the zoo. 6 yo checked sheep for cud chewing and split hooves, good thing they complied. 2 yo requested zebras, which turned out to to be giraffes. Her mistake is partially explainable, since both animals are kept in the same enclosure. 6 yo tried catching a parakeet. 8 yo blew all of his allowance money on a projector and toy snakes. We ate lunch next to a large group of adults in wheelchairs. I learned that 8 yo has sensitivity not to point and talk loudly about them. 6 yo still is working on this.

After the zoo, we drove straight to my chiropractor. By the time we got home, it was after 4. That's when I started thinking about shabbos, and the grocery run that did not happen. That's when 8 yo dropped on the floor, whining about getting leftovers for dinner. That's when I eyed the laundry, still piled in the laundry room. That's when I realized that I forgot to do my Nach Yomi from yesterday (I have been on top of it, for the most part). That's when my husband texted me that he is doing a c-section in about half an hour, which meant that he won't be home for dinner, or to tuck the kids in.

That's when I started having second thoughts about spending the day at the zoo.

Now the kids are in bed, some sort of shabbos is being cooked, challah is rising, and my husband is grocery shopping on his way home.

At least I did not spend the day yelling. But was all this worth it?

Nach Yomi

There is a concept of Daf Yomi: you learn a page of gemara a day, every day, through every tractate and area. People all over the world learn the same page on the same day. Like this, one finishes the entire gemara over the course of 7 and a half years. The benefit: one is familiar with the entire gemara, not just "popular" or easy areas.

But there is another benefit/drawback: in order for this to work, one needs to commit a certain amount of time every day to learning. No holidays, no sick days, no celebrations, day in and day out, one has to find time to set aside to learn. From what I heard, catching up is hard, if not virtually impossible. This requires a huge commitment and a huge amount of discipline.

I was at an impasse with 8 yo about drums. He likes drumming. He picked up a few rhythms, made up his own, likes banging around, likes combining sounds. He hates practice. He hates sitting the right way, holding the drumsticks the right way, playing the same rhythm twenty times, counting out loud. He wants to get it, and get it fast. He gets frustrated. We spoke about it, we made plans, promises, trades. I wavered: maybe he is not ready, but maybe he is ready and he just needs to put in some effort and then he will come to enjoy all of it.

Then I thought about it: he does not see people work hard at something. He does not see grown-ups taking on commitments, failing, trying again, getting frustrated. I thought about what would be a grown-up equivalent of practice which would pay off, but would require a commitment.

I decided to do Nach Yomi. Previously, I read Yehoshua and Shoftim(Judges), studied Shmuel I and II and a bit of Melachim I, but the rest is quite murky. Oh, sure, I come to shul and hear haftorah (the readings from the Prophets and Writings, corresponding to the weekly portion) and all the megilot, but what about the rest? What about the context? What about the rest of Iyov, not just that he lost everything, spoke to some friends, and then gained everything back?

In one of the recent articles, a point was made that if all the copies of the book of Havakuk would disappear from all the yeshivot, nobody would notice. My husband countered that Havakuk is read as a haftorah somewhere... not sure if it's true, but the point still stands: how well do I know the rest of the Nach to know what am I missing?

So I decided to embark on a personal Nach Yomi. The rules are simple: one perek (chapter) of Nach per day, starting with Yehoshua. I am reading it in English, Artscroll edition, with translated commentaries. It takes me anywhere from 15 to 30 minutes. The only rule is that I have to do it EVERY DAY. And this part is the hardest, there are so many more other things to do. It is Friday night and I spent the whole day cooking and teaching parsha to kids. It is a weeknight, my husband is on call, the kids are finally in bed and I much rather read some light magazine.

But I decided to commit to this. I know that I will benefit in much larger way that I can even imagine now. I know that my kids are asking when will I finish Yehoshua and what will I do for a siyum (completion party). I know that as we are reading about Moshe commanding Yehoshua how to conquer the land, I get to explore how it actually took place.

Most importantly, I am getting to experience a bit of the same frustration that my son is dealing with. Most importantly, I get to show him how hard work pays off.