Chanukah is almost here and that means both Artscroll and Feldheim are having Chanukah sales. I have asked 11 yo to browse their websites, perhaps some books will catch his eye. I am hoping for more Jewish learning.
"Mommy, why isn't there interlinear Mishna Succah?" he asks, intently focused on the screen.
How do I explain, dear child, that by the time most people (children?) learn mishna, they do not need interlinear translation? How do I delicately put it that interlinear books are meant for those who do not yet have a grasp of Hebrew vocabulary or fluency, and who will probably never read Mishna Succah in Hebrew?
I feebly suggest that we have interlinear Pirkei Avot. He searches for other mishnayot, but none of them are interlinear. I see a worry form on his face. He has been meeting with a rabbi, studying Mishna Succah. I have an all Hebrew edition that I got for 13 yo when he was learning mishna. I have an old-style Hebrew-English mishna, but that one is hard to follow. I see that he is seeking an easy way to see an immediate translation of the words. The words still do not yield their meaning. The words are hard to read, do not connect into a coherent whole. Where I see mysteries, challenges, wisdom ready to be plumbed, he sees insurmountable obstacles.
I do not know why Hebrew is so hard for him. I do not know why he still cannot read it smoothly. I do not know why he does not see shorashim or remember the meaning of simple words that he encountered numerous times. I also feel so alone in trying to crack this puzzle. I want to help him, but give him enough room for growth and challenge. I want him to experience the sweet taste of achievement.
I have prayed this morning. I do not ask for the removal of obstacles, "why me?" or "why him?" I am not praying for miracles. My new insight is to pray for the right people to turn to. May Hashem keep on sending them onto my path.
Showing posts with label judaics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label judaics. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 29, 2017
Thursday, November 16, 2017
Daily schoolwork for 11 yo
I have one child at home and this is what we aim to do every day:
- Chumash. His bar mitzvah Torah reading is the first day of Pesach, last bit of Parshat Bo. We have started Shemot from the beginning. We have agreed to do four pesukim per day. The latest round of child's input landed us at him reading one day and me reading the next, with him translating to the best of his ability and me supplying the words he does not know or remember. We are using a Chumash with Rashi menukad, and I aim to do one Rashi per day. Sometimes it works, sometimes it backfires. He continues to have reading difficulties, so my goal is to build his confidence in being able to read Chumash and Rashi.
- Yahadus. We are using Yahadus textbooks, reading a chapter a day. I do all the English reading, while he reads the name of each mitzvah in Hebrew and the pasuk that the mitzvah is derived from. Then we pull out Stone Chumash and he highlights the relevant part of each pasuk. 11 yo also made a "Mitzvah Man": on graph paper he made a large rectangle that contains 600 squares (geometry snuck in there) and added extra 13 as hands and feet. For every mitzvah deoraita, he highlights a square. I also use The Taryag Mitzvot Manual tables as a review and reinforcement. Since 11 yo is a kinesthetic learner, I photocopied the relevant pages onto cardstock, cut out each mitzvah and separated its Hebrew name from Hebrew description from English summary. As we learn more mitzvot, 11 yo's goal was to line them up in order and match up all three parts. This was not trivial when we got to Avodah Zara. My secret goal is for him to know all 613 by heart following the order for Mishne Torah. I got these ideas from the One Minute Masmid by Jonathan Rietti. I am proud to say that we finished the first textbook this week and he was able to organize all 86 mitzvot with their explanations and translations correctly.
- Chayienu. He does one page of Chayeinu workbook Daled. I know that he's technically in 6th grade, but Vav proved to be too hard and he started to give up, so we backed up a bit. It's Yediyot Klaliot, and there is plenty of new to him material in there. Currently we are working on knowing the seder of Parshyot in order. ( I know there are young kids who know this, but I also know plenty of adults who learned the song as kids and totally forgot it).
- Lashon Hatorah. Honestly, I could not remember where we were a year ago before he attended day school, so I did what I do best: went online and ordered a new workbook for middle and upper school students. It is faster paced than other books. So far, it is review material, and he is going at a good solid pace. I skip along pages that are repetitive.
- Math. He asked me more than once NOT to continue with Math Mammoth. Since last year he did some 6th grade math, he placed himself into 7th grade Khan Academy math. There are holes in his knowledge, so I have to often sit next to him when he hits unfamiliar areas. He gets to pace himself, so he sees his progress through badges and percent of material covered and decides how much time he wants to devote to math on any given day.
- Grammar. He also does that at Khan Academy. From what I see, good solid progress.
- Coding. Khan Academy and Scratch from homeschool coop.
These are the skeletal basics. This is what he has as a daily plan. He can get it all done by 10 am, but it does not always happen.
Now, what this does not reflect is the insane amount of helpful housework 11 yo does. He sets the table without being asked, unloads the dishwasher, cooks for himself and others, plays with younger siblings, changes diapers, washes 4 yo, brings in groceries, cleans up, babysits. As far as being a mentsch, this child shines.
Tuesday, August 22, 2017
Kapara?
Today is Rosh Chodesh Elul. My oldest got back really late last night from his class trip to the eclipse totality. I gave myself a small pat on the back for staying put and not being stuck in the same traffic. This late arrival led to a late start in school, at 10:15. Now, my other kids get picked up in a carpool so this late start meant that I had to drive him. Time to insert gratitude for having the flexibility that these schedule changes are mere inconveniences than major life disrupters. He was a bit nervous about getting to school on time, feeling that this was like a pardon not to be squandered. I had some errands to do, so I hustled 11 yo to come with us.
It happened. Statistically, it was supposed to happen sooner, but it happened today. The fastest and most direct way to the school requires one to get onto one highway, exit onto the left lane of another highway and then exit on the right off the second highway in 300 feet onto a service road. One is expected to transverse three lanes of traffic while entering on the left (fastest moving lane) in 300 feet. I used to avoid this route. I used to tell kids to shush, as I cannot see the traffic on the second highway till I exit the ramp. But I have been lucky to successfully merge, cross those three lanes, and exit where we need to exit. It does not help that the next exit is a few miles away.
Today, since I was coming mid-morning, I was not able to cross all three lanes while going at highway speed. There was a car merging left, and the guy in the right-most lane did not give me space to exit. So we ended up being pulled towards the next exit, with my teen slowly hyperventilating how he's going to be late. I asked him to Waze our way. We were arriving at 10:16. But I was quite rattled. I kept saying how this was bound to happen, how at least we did not crash, but internally I was in turmoil.
After drop off, we set out on the same highway to run our errands. I decided to go to Office Depot not far from our old residence since I needed to make multiple copies for homeschool chemistry class. Lo and behold, their price is 14 cents per copy while I am getting reimbursed at 10 cents per copy. Multiply that by a couple hundred pages and I slowly backed away from the counter, thinking that I need to find a place with a better rate.
As I got into my car, chatting with 11 yo, I put the key into ignition and ... nothing. It would not start. It just started! We drove here! What now? I tried this, I tried that. No, it would not start. The previous time this happened was with our old van, two days before Rosh HaShana and we needed a new alternator to the tune of a crazy amount of money, a day in the shop and a rental car, Today I had to pick up 2 yo at 2:30 on the other side of town. No wonder I went into the hyperventilating mode.
Time to insert gratitude that we broke down in the major shopping plaza, that I do have AAA, that AAA repair shop is in the same plaza, that there is kosher food available right there, that a friend who was texting me at the exact same time offered to help. I am also grateful that I did not leave 11 yo at home, because who knows how long this would take?
I decided that it is quicker to walk over to AAA than to call the hotline. It turned out to be a smart decision, as they sent a mechanic with a jumper battery to see whether they could just jump me. The car started enough for me to drive it over, but the battery was dead. They assured me that it is not the alternator, just a battery and they can switch it out right in the parking lot, here is your bill, have a great day. As I ran the rest of the shopping errands, we got some lunch. While we were eating it, I said out loud how it is Elul and maybe these two car malfunctions were a kapara (a redemption) for something I did. Incidentally, we went over Vidui yesterday and the line at the end where we ask Hashem to erase all our sins, but not through illnesses and major suffering stuck out to me. 11 yo listened to me musing out loud and said, I get it already, you've convinced me. I muttered how I am trying to convince myself.
On the heels of the eclipse, we definitely take the sun for granted until there is a major celestial event that brings our awareness to what it does for us day to day. I was thinking how I take my car for granted. We went for years with one car and that was hard. I loved having two cars after that. I was very aware of what a difference in mobility a car makes, especially with small kids in a spread-out city. But that was many years ago. Now we have had two well-running cars for over 8 years, so it is not on my mind so much.
However, there was another theme, something that I did not articulate out loud. As much as both of these incidents could have been a kapara, did I really need it like this? Do I really need to get into a near accident? Do I really need to drop a large amount of money on a sudden car repair? Do I need to run mental lists of whom can I call to get my baby from preschool if this car issue turns out to be serious? What happened to kapara of reaching into a pocket for a quarter and pulling out a dime?
It happened. Statistically, it was supposed to happen sooner, but it happened today. The fastest and most direct way to the school requires one to get onto one highway, exit onto the left lane of another highway and then exit on the right off the second highway in 300 feet onto a service road. One is expected to transverse three lanes of traffic while entering on the left (fastest moving lane) in 300 feet. I used to avoid this route. I used to tell kids to shush, as I cannot see the traffic on the second highway till I exit the ramp. But I have been lucky to successfully merge, cross those three lanes, and exit where we need to exit. It does not help that the next exit is a few miles away.
Today, since I was coming mid-morning, I was not able to cross all three lanes while going at highway speed. There was a car merging left, and the guy in the right-most lane did not give me space to exit. So we ended up being pulled towards the next exit, with my teen slowly hyperventilating how he's going to be late. I asked him to Waze our way. We were arriving at 10:16. But I was quite rattled. I kept saying how this was bound to happen, how at least we did not crash, but internally I was in turmoil.
After drop off, we set out on the same highway to run our errands. I decided to go to Office Depot not far from our old residence since I needed to make multiple copies for homeschool chemistry class. Lo and behold, their price is 14 cents per copy while I am getting reimbursed at 10 cents per copy. Multiply that by a couple hundred pages and I slowly backed away from the counter, thinking that I need to find a place with a better rate.
As I got into my car, chatting with 11 yo, I put the key into ignition and ... nothing. It would not start. It just started! We drove here! What now? I tried this, I tried that. No, it would not start. The previous time this happened was with our old van, two days before Rosh HaShana and we needed a new alternator to the tune of a crazy amount of money, a day in the shop and a rental car, Today I had to pick up 2 yo at 2:30 on the other side of town. No wonder I went into the hyperventilating mode.
Time to insert gratitude that we broke down in the major shopping plaza, that I do have AAA, that AAA repair shop is in the same plaza, that there is kosher food available right there, that a friend who was texting me at the exact same time offered to help. I am also grateful that I did not leave 11 yo at home, because who knows how long this would take?
I decided that it is quicker to walk over to AAA than to call the hotline. It turned out to be a smart decision, as they sent a mechanic with a jumper battery to see whether they could just jump me. The car started enough for me to drive it over, but the battery was dead. They assured me that it is not the alternator, just a battery and they can switch it out right in the parking lot, here is your bill, have a great day. As I ran the rest of the shopping errands, we got some lunch. While we were eating it, I said out loud how it is Elul and maybe these two car malfunctions were a kapara (a redemption) for something I did. Incidentally, we went over Vidui yesterday and the line at the end where we ask Hashem to erase all our sins, but not through illnesses and major suffering stuck out to me. 11 yo listened to me musing out loud and said, I get it already, you've convinced me. I muttered how I am trying to convince myself.
On the heels of the eclipse, we definitely take the sun for granted until there is a major celestial event that brings our awareness to what it does for us day to day. I was thinking how I take my car for granted. We went for years with one car and that was hard. I loved having two cars after that. I was very aware of what a difference in mobility a car makes, especially with small kids in a spread-out city. But that was many years ago. Now we have had two well-running cars for over 8 years, so it is not on my mind so much.
However, there was another theme, something that I did not articulate out loud. As much as both of these incidents could have been a kapara, did I really need it like this? Do I really need to get into a near accident? Do I really need to drop a large amount of money on a sudden car repair? Do I need to run mental lists of whom can I call to get my baby from preschool if this car issue turns out to be serious? What happened to kapara of reaching into a pocket for a quarter and pulling out a dime?
Tuesday, August 15, 2017
second day of (home)school
11 yo davened at home. I had to drop off 2 yo and get an oil change. We agreed that he will complete a certain amount of school work on his own and he was all done by the time I came back. He did three pages of Chayeinu workbook and read over the next mitzvah in Yahadus. Meanwhile, I'm slowly plowing through Rabbi Rietti's One Minute Masmid. I am very inspired since for the first time in a long time, I feel that there is an approach that I can use both in my own learning and in helping 11yo. The basic is that you start with Tanach, then Taryag, then Mishna, then Gemara, cover a lot of ground to build up the breadth and to feel progress and review like crazy. Since we are doing Yahadus at 11 yo's request, it leads naturally both to looking mitzvot up in Chmuash, reviewing Taryag and learning halachot. Today, when I got home, I asked him to find a high lighter and go back into Chmuash to highlight parts of the pesukim where the mitzvot are found. They are quoted right in Yahadus, so it was a beatiful exercise to see where Rambam pulled each mitzvah from. I also got a review in and even some Hebrew reading. 11 yo asked me whether Daddy will approve of his marking up Chmuash. I said that it is for purpose of learning, so it is OK.
I had grand plans for doing one more mitzvah, reading one perek of Navi a day with him, reading one Aliyah of Parsha, but for now, I will have to sit tight and see how all this goes. I told 11 yo to take a piece of graph paper and mark up a shape encompassing 613 squares. That sent us on a half an hour hunt for the ruler. We never fully unpacked homeschooling supplies since our move. I was also thinking how disorganized space reflects disorganized mind... but I have totally given up on that. I just don't go into the basement, don't deal with those boxed up hopes and dreams. I also cannot keep up.
So once the ruler was located, drawing this shape proved to be an estimating challenge with a small dose of math. 11 yo wanted to use extra 13 squares to make a person shape. I just watched. I can be very patient with one kid. Then, when he got the shape to his satisfaction. I told him to color in the squares equal to a number of mitzvot we high lighted. I want to give him a visual of our progress, in hopes to both address his anxiety about learning Judaics and to encourage him with tangible progress.
As an aside, he looked up the very last word in the Torah, noticed how some pesukim already contain more than one mitzvah and noticed how Rambam used the pasuk about not testing G-d to mean not to test Navi too much.
I went over his Chayeinu pages. I located abandoned Lashon HaTorah.
We had lunch. We tried going biking, but the bike rental rack would not allow me to get into the system today. 11 yo tried out dirt bike trails. We saw deer. He got exhausted after less than an hour. He also remarked how the day is going well. I asked him how he knows and he said, I'm not throwing fits.
When we got home, I did Hebrew Duolingo. I tested out of a whole bunch of levels, so now I am swimming in a sea of new words that I supposedly know. He watched me. I would like him to try his hand at it, but not now, when he feels confident or curious enough.
He did Khan academy math. I don't know what he knows, so it is nice that they are catching the holes and giving him a chance to practice both lower and higher level skills. He placed himself in 7th grade even though technically he's in sixth. He did grammar and some coding too. I caught him pausing the explanatory coding video and taking notes because he knew from previous experiences that they will expect him to use those commands.
Finally, he had his first tennis lesson at the JCC around the corner. 13 yo and 7 yo also started on swim lessons yesterday. I dropped them off and ran into the issue that the coach would not let my oldest walk back on his own. I had to drive back to pick them up all the while thinking how we complain about spoiled rotten millenials. 13 yo is allowed to use the pool on his own according to JCC rules. Why is he not allowed to walk back home? The coach said that he just needed to hear my agreement before letting them walk. So today with tennis, I found 11 yo's coach and clearly told him that I am allowing my son to walk over and back on his own. Coach's first words: "Does he know the way?" We live around the corner, literally. The child is 11. What is this world coming to? Who is not allowing for independence and responsibility?
Today was overall a good homeschooling day, even though all the crazy from the rest of the kids ended up being concentrated into a few evening hours.
P.S. I have so many photos of just kids' backs. It just hit me today that all those photos mean that I do not stop my kids in their tracks with my presence, but I get to see the path that they are on.
I had grand plans for doing one more mitzvah, reading one perek of Navi a day with him, reading one Aliyah of Parsha, but for now, I will have to sit tight and see how all this goes. I told 11 yo to take a piece of graph paper and mark up a shape encompassing 613 squares. That sent us on a half an hour hunt for the ruler. We never fully unpacked homeschooling supplies since our move. I was also thinking how disorganized space reflects disorganized mind... but I have totally given up on that. I just don't go into the basement, don't deal with those boxed up hopes and dreams. I also cannot keep up.
So once the ruler was located, drawing this shape proved to be an estimating challenge with a small dose of math. 11 yo wanted to use extra 13 squares to make a person shape. I just watched. I can be very patient with one kid. Then, when he got the shape to his satisfaction. I told him to color in the squares equal to a number of mitzvot we high lighted. I want to give him a visual of our progress, in hopes to both address his anxiety about learning Judaics and to encourage him with tangible progress.
As an aside, he looked up the very last word in the Torah, noticed how some pesukim already contain more than one mitzvah and noticed how Rambam used the pasuk about not testing G-d to mean not to test Navi too much.
I went over his Chayeinu pages. I located abandoned Lashon HaTorah.
We had lunch. We tried going biking, but the bike rental rack would not allow me to get into the system today. 11 yo tried out dirt bike trails. We saw deer. He got exhausted after less than an hour. He also remarked how the day is going well. I asked him how he knows and he said, I'm not throwing fits.
 |
When we got home, I did Hebrew Duolingo. I tested out of a whole bunch of levels, so now I am swimming in a sea of new words that I supposedly know. He watched me. I would like him to try his hand at it, but not now, when he feels confident or curious enough.He did Khan academy math. I don't know what he knows, so it is nice that they are catching the holes and giving him a chance to practice both lower and higher level skills. He placed himself in 7th grade even though technically he's in sixth. He did grammar and some coding too. I caught him pausing the explanatory coding video and taking notes because he knew from previous experiences that they will expect him to use those commands.
 |
| taking notes on coding |
Today was overall a good homeschooling day, even though all the crazy from the rest of the kids ended up being concentrated into a few evening hours.
P.S. I have so many photos of just kids' backs. It just hit me today that all those photos mean that I do not stop my kids in their tracks with my presence, but I get to see the path that they are on.
Wednesday, August 2, 2017
Where is inreach?
"There is no inreach", tells me a FFB person. I was chatting about text-based learning, about my visceral desire to grow. "At the end of the day, I don't want sources, I want to read about emunah. Before you complain, ask, did you get everything there is to get from inspirational classes?"
This remark devastates me. This is lashon hara, evil speech, and no amount of classes on Shmirat HaLashon will explain how deeply such words wound. There is no inreach. I do not connect to spiritual classes. I have gone to women's talks for years and I liken them to cotton candy: sweet, inflated, empty calories. I leave them and I hunger for more, all the while regretting the time wasted away. When I learn a text in depth, when I grapple with it. when I have to work my brain cells, make connections, look words up, that's when I get the satisfaction of learning Torah.
The SEED boys are in town for the past week. My boys have been going to shul to learn with them. On erev Tisha BeAv my 11 yo came back beaming after learning for hours. He has started his bar mitzvah parsha prep. This brought tears to my eyes: in six years of homeschooling, this is FIRST TIME that someone who is not his parent and who is not getting paid, learned with him what he wanted to learn. I did not think it will be like that. I thought there will be people (rabbis? fathers? bachirim? older gentlemen?) who would hear of our homeschooling journey, see that we are baalei teshuva, see that we do not have skills, just see an interested kid, and help him out. He came home glowing. The boy who was learning with him did not care that he has anxiety, that he might not have skills of a 6th grader, that he was rejected by two schools... He was here to learn with the boys and here was a boy, ready to learn.
On Tisha BeAv proper, I encountered this statement from Gemara:
It was apropos for our situation: please learn with me! Please make time. Please find energy. Please do it as a chesed. Please get me to the level where I can learn on my own. It is taught as one of the causes of the Destruction. Yet I have not seen anyone talk about it. Perhaps it is painful to wonder what is to become of all the baalei teshuva, the ones who know just enough to be observant on the outside, yet do not get the life-sustaining gift of in-depth learning.
In Lech lecha, when Avram goes to Canaan, he brings with him "all the souls that they made in Haran". A classic interpretation of those souls is all the people whom Avram taught about G-d. Yet this is the only mention that we have of them. Where are they? Presumably, they did not stick around. Maybe, just maybe, despite Avram's efforts at hospitality, he was really holding out for his biological son. Maybe there was no inreach, and the believers slowly, yet inevitably, left.
What is to become of the baal teshuva movement? What is to become of all those who do not have an established network of relatives and rebbeim to plug into? What is to become of those who thirst for more, yet are so misunderstood by those enjoying the privileges of being "on the inside"? What is there to tell that just because you have been frum for years, there is still no family to have you over for a Pesach seder? That all divrei Torah at that seder are on you (and your husband who is working overtime so he can have Seder off)? I know that plenty of those who have come to Orthodox Judaism on their own are afraid to admit the gulf of ignorance beyond browsing halachot on Aish or emailing rabbis at OU. They read English side of the siddur, hoping that nobody notices. They read the Hebrew side, but it might as well be in Chinese. They put their kids in school, hoping that someone out there will teach them and they will be able to do more. Those parents still cannot review Chumash with their kids, let alone Gemara.
We talk and talk about how Torah learning is important. Well, let's learn some Torah. And if you are able to teach, let's teach some Torah lishma.
This remark devastates me. This is lashon hara, evil speech, and no amount of classes on Shmirat HaLashon will explain how deeply such words wound. There is no inreach. I do not connect to spiritual classes. I have gone to women's talks for years and I liken them to cotton candy: sweet, inflated, empty calories. I leave them and I hunger for more, all the while regretting the time wasted away. When I learn a text in depth, when I grapple with it. when I have to work my brain cells, make connections, look words up, that's when I get the satisfaction of learning Torah.
The SEED boys are in town for the past week. My boys have been going to shul to learn with them. On erev Tisha BeAv my 11 yo came back beaming after learning for hours. He has started his bar mitzvah parsha prep. This brought tears to my eyes: in six years of homeschooling, this is FIRST TIME that someone who is not his parent and who is not getting paid, learned with him what he wanted to learn. I did not think it will be like that. I thought there will be people (rabbis? fathers? bachirim? older gentlemen?) who would hear of our homeschooling journey, see that we are baalei teshuva, see that we do not have skills, just see an interested kid, and help him out. He came home glowing. The boy who was learning with him did not care that he has anxiety, that he might not have skills of a 6th grader, that he was rejected by two schools... He was here to learn with the boys and here was a boy, ready to learn.
On Tisha BeAv proper, I encountered this statement from Gemara:
It was apropos for our situation: please learn with me! Please make time. Please find energy. Please do it as a chesed. Please get me to the level where I can learn on my own. It is taught as one of the causes of the Destruction. Yet I have not seen anyone talk about it. Perhaps it is painful to wonder what is to become of all the baalei teshuva, the ones who know just enough to be observant on the outside, yet do not get the life-sustaining gift of in-depth learning.
In Lech lecha, when Avram goes to Canaan, he brings with him "all the souls that they made in Haran". A classic interpretation of those souls is all the people whom Avram taught about G-d. Yet this is the only mention that we have of them. Where are they? Presumably, they did not stick around. Maybe, just maybe, despite Avram's efforts at hospitality, he was really holding out for his biological son. Maybe there was no inreach, and the believers slowly, yet inevitably, left.
What is to become of the baal teshuva movement? What is to become of all those who do not have an established network of relatives and rebbeim to plug into? What is to become of those who thirst for more, yet are so misunderstood by those enjoying the privileges of being "on the inside"? What is there to tell that just because you have been frum for years, there is still no family to have you over for a Pesach seder? That all divrei Torah at that seder are on you (and your husband who is working overtime so he can have Seder off)? I know that plenty of those who have come to Orthodox Judaism on their own are afraid to admit the gulf of ignorance beyond browsing halachot on Aish or emailing rabbis at OU. They read English side of the siddur, hoping that nobody notices. They read the Hebrew side, but it might as well be in Chinese. They put their kids in school, hoping that someone out there will teach them and they will be able to do more. Those parents still cannot review Chumash with their kids, let alone Gemara.
We talk and talk about how Torah learning is important. Well, let's learn some Torah. And if you are able to teach, let's teach some Torah lishma.
Monday, July 24, 2017
Getting the Nine Days wrong
I caught myself thinking today that maybe I am "doing" the Nine Days wrong. It is supposed to be a time of sadness and mourning. We are supposed to curtail activities that bring us joy and pleasure such as eating meat, drinking wine, listening to live music, enjoying water activities and prolonged baths, wearing freshly laundered clothes, making large purchases and participating in joyful gatherings. However, I found myself actually looking forward to many of these restrictions. No meat? No problem, I can finally make my beloved Indian food. I can make mac-n-cheese and pizza. In fact, I have so many dairy or meat-free meals that I can make that I do not have enough dinners during these Nine Days to make them all. No swimming? I can stop worrying about 2 yo trying to drown herself in the deeper end of the pool. I do not have to worry about moldering bathing suits and towels. Less laundry? Yes, please! Just wear what you have! And wear it again! Fewer fun outings? Less prep, less stuff to pack, fewer kids complaining that it is too hot, they are too tired, they cannot eat what I've packed, they didn't want to come in the first place. No large purchases? More money in the account, less looking around because I won't buy anyway, less decision making. No large gatherings? I'm an introvert.
So is that the attitude that I am supposed to be taking into Nine Days? Am I doing it wrong?
Then I thought: all of these restrictions were placed so people would have more time to look inward, spend with their immediate family, focus on the internal instead of being distracted (or entertained) by the external. There is a famous Gemara about not mourning excessively over the destruction of Beis Hamikdash, which is exactly why Chazal limited our mourning to these expressions.
I wonder whether not feeling repressed by them is a benefit that allows me to feel less emotional pain as I turn to look inward.
So is that the attitude that I am supposed to be taking into Nine Days? Am I doing it wrong?
Then I thought: all of these restrictions were placed so people would have more time to look inward, spend with their immediate family, focus on the internal instead of being distracted (or entertained) by the external. There is a famous Gemara about not mourning excessively over the destruction of Beis Hamikdash, which is exactly why Chazal limited our mourning to these expressions.
I wonder whether not feeling repressed by them is a benefit that allows me to feel less emotional pain as I turn to look inward.
Saturday, July 1, 2017
To each their own
Twice a year Artscroll holds a large book sale: they give you 20% off everything. I try to time my book browsing to this time period. It is accompanied by numerous email reminders and a glossy catalog that arrives in the mail. I do not always buy, but I do browse heavily.
Since I will be homeschooling 11 yo next year, I asked him for his input in what kinds of books he was interested in. He opened the catalog, got fixated on the cookbooks, then told me he does not want anything. Except he did want one thing. It was an oversized illustrated coffee table book of the Beit Hamikdash. I was eyeing that book myself for years, but its price was making it into an unjustified purchase. We have so many resources available online, for free. We have other books with the Beit Hamikdash payout. Our money would be better spent on other causes. So every time I longingly looked at that page, I said: not now.
11 yo might have known exactly what I was thinking (or possibly even saying out loud in the past), so he immediately took his request back by saying that he does not expect us to spend that kind of money on a book. I stopped him: do you really want it? He said, yes, but it's too much. I went on Amazon to see if it can be bought used for less. No. I checked whether it is available in a smaller size. No. I resolved to buy the book. Then I added a few other titles to the mix: historical narratives, biographies, a book on Shmirat HaLashon (The laws of speech), halacha pocket guides, and a small group of inspirational quotes and stories.
The packages arrived today. When it was brought in after Shabbos was over, 11 yo ripped the whole package apart to get to his Beit Hamikdash book. He oohed and aahed over the spread. He asked me whether he can bring it into his room, a code expression for reading it in bed.I asked him to leave it on the coffee table till the morning. His excitement over this book was so genuine, so palpable.
Yet my heart is heavy.This is the same kid that failed Judaics this year, that thinks that he can't learn, that is burned out on Hebrew and Gemara and halacha. This same child miserably told me on Friday night that there is no purpose in Shabbos now because when he was in school he looked forward to Shabbos as a two-day break before he had to go back to school and start all over again. Mind you, he was not horribly miserable the whole year, and he had a very decent Shabbos once he lifted himself from the funk. But I keep on thinking how he needs such an untraditional approach to his education that none of the standard rules apply.
For now, I am recording it that he is ecstatic to receive a Beit Hamikdash book, so he is willing and eager to engage with Judaism on his terms. Now, please G-d, give me the courage to guide him so his spark of desire to learn grows and does not diminish.
Since I will be homeschooling 11 yo next year, I asked him for his input in what kinds of books he was interested in. He opened the catalog, got fixated on the cookbooks, then told me he does not want anything. Except he did want one thing. It was an oversized illustrated coffee table book of the Beit Hamikdash. I was eyeing that book myself for years, but its price was making it into an unjustified purchase. We have so many resources available online, for free. We have other books with the Beit Hamikdash payout. Our money would be better spent on other causes. So every time I longingly looked at that page, I said: not now.
11 yo might have known exactly what I was thinking (or possibly even saying out loud in the past), so he immediately took his request back by saying that he does not expect us to spend that kind of money on a book. I stopped him: do you really want it? He said, yes, but it's too much. I went on Amazon to see if it can be bought used for less. No. I checked whether it is available in a smaller size. No. I resolved to buy the book. Then I added a few other titles to the mix: historical narratives, biographies, a book on Shmirat HaLashon (The laws of speech), halacha pocket guides, and a small group of inspirational quotes and stories.
The packages arrived today. When it was brought in after Shabbos was over, 11 yo ripped the whole package apart to get to his Beit Hamikdash book. He oohed and aahed over the spread. He asked me whether he can bring it into his room, a code expression for reading it in bed.I asked him to leave it on the coffee table till the morning. His excitement over this book was so genuine, so palpable.
Yet my heart is heavy.This is the same kid that failed Judaics this year, that thinks that he can't learn, that is burned out on Hebrew and Gemara and halacha. This same child miserably told me on Friday night that there is no purpose in Shabbos now because when he was in school he looked forward to Shabbos as a two-day break before he had to go back to school and start all over again. Mind you, he was not horribly miserable the whole year, and he had a very decent Shabbos once he lifted himself from the funk. But I keep on thinking how he needs such an untraditional approach to his education that none of the standard rules apply.
For now, I am recording it that he is ecstatic to receive a Beit Hamikdash book, so he is willing and eager to engage with Judaism on his terms. Now, please G-d, give me the courage to guide him so his spark of desire to learn grows and does not diminish.
Friday, October 21, 2016
Designated time
I'm writing this on chol hamoed Succot. In Hebrew, moed means a designated time, an appointed time, a time of meeting. Holiday, as in "holy day" is a very loose translation, as it is not the sanctity of the day that is celebrated. Rather we acknowledge that year after year, Hashem/ mishkan/ shechina calls to us, and we show up. We do not always bring our best selves when we show up, despite what numerous divrei torah and frum writing makes one to believe. We do not always show up in the neatest and most prepared state, despite what sharing on social media leads us to believe. In fact, some years, we do not want to show up at all.
But where would we be if we did not show up? Where would we be if we did not have this protected time to find ourselves yet again in our succah, in shul, at the seder table, during hakafot, thinking, remembering and contemplating where we were in years past and comparing to where we are now?
Shabbos can feel oppressive, especially where there are small kids napping in the morning and afternoon, and older kids get listless. Yet I appreciate Shabbos as the "only time I sit on the couch" in my daughter's words. I wanted to be doing more, working on Nach Yomi ( don't even ask where I stand in my personal learning), reading over parsha, davening, having deep and meaningful conversations about what matters with my spouse. But I am not. However, I am grateful that I find myself forced to sit on that couch once a week and take a break from the external world, take stock in where I am now, what am I feeling, and not being pressured to run around and do something or other. It is not a high level of observance, but it is a designated time, forced upon me for my own good.
I am very good about yom tov observance, but I am not good at designating time that is not thrust upon me. Whether it is my upbringing, my uptight personality, the circumstances, not knowing how to do it myself, or not being selfish, I do not end up designating this protected time for reflection. I am not talking about pampering, but it is part of essential self-care. There is so much to do, and so little time. So I scurry and wipe behinds, nap kids, feed them, do chumash, grocery shop, sneak on Facebok and tackle laundry. But I do not say: this afternoon is for blogging because mommy needs a written record of how today went. This half an hour is for journalling because I need to pour my heart out. When the baby will nap I will call my friend and connect. Today I will plan a night away because I just need to sleep in and not be responsible for anyone else's needs.
I wonder if rosh chodesh was supposed to be a women's holiday precisely to force women to take monthly stock of their lives and stop doing.
But where would we be if we did not show up? Where would we be if we did not have this protected time to find ourselves yet again in our succah, in shul, at the seder table, during hakafot, thinking, remembering and contemplating where we were in years past and comparing to where we are now?
Shabbos can feel oppressive, especially where there are small kids napping in the morning and afternoon, and older kids get listless. Yet I appreciate Shabbos as the "only time I sit on the couch" in my daughter's words. I wanted to be doing more, working on Nach Yomi ( don't even ask where I stand in my personal learning), reading over parsha, davening, having deep and meaningful conversations about what matters with my spouse. But I am not. However, I am grateful that I find myself forced to sit on that couch once a week and take a break from the external world, take stock in where I am now, what am I feeling, and not being pressured to run around and do something or other. It is not a high level of observance, but it is a designated time, forced upon me for my own good.
I am very good about yom tov observance, but I am not good at designating time that is not thrust upon me. Whether it is my upbringing, my uptight personality, the circumstances, not knowing how to do it myself, or not being selfish, I do not end up designating this protected time for reflection. I am not talking about pampering, but it is part of essential self-care. There is so much to do, and so little time. So I scurry and wipe behinds, nap kids, feed them, do chumash, grocery shop, sneak on Facebok and tackle laundry. But I do not say: this afternoon is for blogging because mommy needs a written record of how today went. This half an hour is for journalling because I need to pour my heart out. When the baby will nap I will call my friend and connect. Today I will plan a night away because I just need to sleep in and not be responsible for anyone else's needs.
I wonder if rosh chodesh was supposed to be a women's holiday precisely to force women to take monthly stock of their lives and stop doing.
Tuesday, September 27, 2016
Gemara for 12 yo
After a lot of hand-wringing, phone calls, e-mails and just things falling all over the place. I signed up 12 yo for online school for Judaics. He is in 7th grade, where he is supposed to be age-wise. He specifically asked for learning with other kids as opposed to one-on-one, but he did not want to go to school. The program is four days a week for two hours each day, and it is fully interactive: he gets to see the teacher and other students, learn bechavruta, ask and answer questions in real time, get assignments and chat with others. The catch is that it is from 11 to 1, smack dab in the middle of the day.
Here is the funny part: the administration originally did not want him in this class because he had no formal gemara learning. First I agreed with them, then we realized that the other level is too low for him, so I insisted that he attend this class with his peers. In the back of my mind was an ongoing buzz of what am I going to do with a child who will be handicapped by a lack of gemara skills? Will this approach of not pushing and introducing gemara haunt us? Now in his class, during the second week I got an email from the teacher that he is planning on having my son and his chavruta do a separate assignment since his gemara skills are on a higher level than the rest of the class. I giggled: how can a child who spent maybe six hours formally studying gemara have more advanced skills than the boys who have been studying it for the past two years? Perhaps all the hours he spent poring over Koren Bavli in shul paid off. Perhaps he is naturally brilliant. Perhaps he can pull a fast one on the teacher.
Perhaps our laid-back approach (not quite unschooling) is not so full of glaring educational holes.
Here is the funny part: the administration originally did not want him in this class because he had no formal gemara learning. First I agreed with them, then we realized that the other level is too low for him, so I insisted that he attend this class with his peers. In the back of my mind was an ongoing buzz of what am I going to do with a child who will be handicapped by a lack of gemara skills? Will this approach of not pushing and introducing gemara haunt us? Now in his class, during the second week I got an email from the teacher that he is planning on having my son and his chavruta do a separate assignment since his gemara skills are on a higher level than the rest of the class. I giggled: how can a child who spent maybe six hours formally studying gemara have more advanced skills than the boys who have been studying it for the past two years? Perhaps all the hours he spent poring over Koren Bavli in shul paid off. Perhaps he is naturally brilliant. Perhaps he can pull a fast one on the teacher.
Perhaps our laid-back approach (not quite unschooling) is not so full of glaring educational holes.
Friday, March 25, 2016
Do we need testing in Judaics?
This week I came across the article regarding lack of standards and testing in Judaic learning. I read it with interest and then shuddered: the testing battle has come to the Jewish education and the educators are believing that more rigorous testing and standards will produce better prepared learners.
There are a few fallacies about learning that the article assumes.
Fallacy #1. Learning is linear.
This works very well for schools that have to keep track of a large number of students. Set up a curriculum, stick with it, slowly, yet steadily progress to more and more difficult material, and the knowledge and skills will follow. However, most students can attest to either being bored out of their minds when they already grasped necessary skill, yet the teacher is still spending time on it, or being lost when the material is not understood and the teacher does not spend enough time reinforcing. Most educators know that occasional detours are necessary to help those who are left behind, and enrichment material is needed for those who have mastered the skills.
Outside of the classroom, students tend to learn those areas that interest them. If an area will require a certain set of skills, as long as the fire and motivation is there, those skills can be acquired in an astonishingly short period of time. If this were not true, baalei teshuva would never be able to catch up in reading Hebrew, mastering Rashi, gemara learning. Moreover, many yeshivas and seminaries find that motivated students can master in a year what their peers spend six years learning in day schools.
Fallacy #2. Lack of skills at a college entry level is a reflection of insufficient day school education.
When I was entering Stern College for women from a small brand-new high school, I was assessed as to the level of my Judaic knowledge. Being a conscientious student, I tried my utmost to show the best that I could accomplish so that I would be placed in the higher level, more intellectually-stimulating classes. I overhead another woman, also coming from a small high school, planning on hiding her knowledge of Hebrew, so that she would get placed into lower, easier classes. Perhaps that is not the case for all students, but if one sees no value in furthering one's knowledge, and no use in their skills, then Judaic education has failed to impart a more important message than technical mastery.
Fallacy #3. Judaic studies can be compared to secular studies.
Math is the easiest subject to test objectively, so all the assessment and testing arguments tend to center on math analogy. There are clear advantages to being math-literate, and it is easy enough to test one's knowledge. However, to compare Torah learning to math does the former great disservice. More than one passionate educator has told me how Torah is our heritage; it is given to all Jews, and everyone has to strive to carve out a portion in it. Some will master Biblical Hebrew and learn it in depth with the commentaries. Some will have to read Chumash with translation. Some will find that Jewish history or philosophy is their passion, Some will love the intellectual rigor and back-and-forth of Gemara. Some will be taken with the poetry of HaRav Kook, or the logic of Rambam. To say that one is not meeting benchmarks in Torah learning is to cut one off from his heritage, from his portion of G-d's wisdom. There are many interpretations of Torah, cannot we allow one to tap into communing with the Divine on a track beyond Gemara? I have been told stories of students who failed davening because their lips were not moving fast enough. I have heard of students who are great at memorizing the material, spitting it back on the test, and then not being able to recall or apply any of their knowledge. By placing Judaics in the same category as secular studies, one lowers it to a subject to be conquered and put behind.
Fallacy #4. All day schools will benefit from the same benchmarks.
Where I live, there are three day schools: one is yeshivish, one is Modern Orthodox, and one is Chabad. Each one of them bills itself as a community school, so they are not rigid in their definitions. However, a yeshivish school would probably be interested in assessing Aramaic vocabulary and Gemara skills, a MO school would focus on mastery of modern Hebrew and Israel's history, and a Chabad school would lean towards knowledge of Chassidut. What will happen to the students when one system of assesment will be applied to all? Will they all bristle at the centralized planning instead of imparting their unique flavor to Judaism?
Fallacy #5. By high school graduation, the students must possess all the skills and the knowledge that they will need for the rest of their lives.
In America, we are obsessed with graduation. We make a big party, followed by infamous note burning of all the burdensome knowledge. Not only we graduate from high school, but we also graduate from middle school and even kindergarten. We love to celebrate the end. The Judaisms' view is the direct opposite. The Hebrew word ×œ×—× ×š means to educate. However, the same word also means to inaugurate. An inauguration is a process through which an object is designated for a specific use from this point on. An inauguration has a beginning, but no end. When we are truly educating students in Judaics, the message is that one can always grow in Torah learning, even if he does not have a specific set of skills yet. A high school student, while appearing very mature and set, is still quite early on in his quest of knowledge. The attitude towards learning that one carries out of his Jewish day school education is more important than the skills. If one believes that there is a whole wide world of learning waiting for him, one will not let a lack of skills in an area get in the way. However, if one is constantly assessed and held to the external standards, one might easily fall into the trap believing that once those standards are reached, there is no need to further learning.
Instead of promoting external standards, I humbly suggest pursuing initiatives which allow each student to explore material at his own pace. We need a Khan academy for Judaism. We need to support initiatives like the Mercava and Sefaria. We need to invest in better apps and better infrastructure. We need to focus on building relationships between educators and students as a bedrock of מסורה transmission. But more than that, we need to teach all the parents and all the teachers that each student is unique and different and needs to be taught according to his needs.
There are a few fallacies about learning that the article assumes.
Fallacy #1. Learning is linear.
This works very well for schools that have to keep track of a large number of students. Set up a curriculum, stick with it, slowly, yet steadily progress to more and more difficult material, and the knowledge and skills will follow. However, most students can attest to either being bored out of their minds when they already grasped necessary skill, yet the teacher is still spending time on it, or being lost when the material is not understood and the teacher does not spend enough time reinforcing. Most educators know that occasional detours are necessary to help those who are left behind, and enrichment material is needed for those who have mastered the skills.
Outside of the classroom, students tend to learn those areas that interest them. If an area will require a certain set of skills, as long as the fire and motivation is there, those skills can be acquired in an astonishingly short period of time. If this were not true, baalei teshuva would never be able to catch up in reading Hebrew, mastering Rashi, gemara learning. Moreover, many yeshivas and seminaries find that motivated students can master in a year what their peers spend six years learning in day schools.
Fallacy #2. Lack of skills at a college entry level is a reflection of insufficient day school education.
When I was entering Stern College for women from a small brand-new high school, I was assessed as to the level of my Judaic knowledge. Being a conscientious student, I tried my utmost to show the best that I could accomplish so that I would be placed in the higher level, more intellectually-stimulating classes. I overhead another woman, also coming from a small high school, planning on hiding her knowledge of Hebrew, so that she would get placed into lower, easier classes. Perhaps that is not the case for all students, but if one sees no value in furthering one's knowledge, and no use in their skills, then Judaic education has failed to impart a more important message than technical mastery.
Fallacy #3. Judaic studies can be compared to secular studies.
Math is the easiest subject to test objectively, so all the assessment and testing arguments tend to center on math analogy. There are clear advantages to being math-literate, and it is easy enough to test one's knowledge. However, to compare Torah learning to math does the former great disservice. More than one passionate educator has told me how Torah is our heritage; it is given to all Jews, and everyone has to strive to carve out a portion in it. Some will master Biblical Hebrew and learn it in depth with the commentaries. Some will have to read Chumash with translation. Some will find that Jewish history or philosophy is their passion, Some will love the intellectual rigor and back-and-forth of Gemara. Some will be taken with the poetry of HaRav Kook, or the logic of Rambam. To say that one is not meeting benchmarks in Torah learning is to cut one off from his heritage, from his portion of G-d's wisdom. There are many interpretations of Torah, cannot we allow one to tap into communing with the Divine on a track beyond Gemara? I have been told stories of students who failed davening because their lips were not moving fast enough. I have heard of students who are great at memorizing the material, spitting it back on the test, and then not being able to recall or apply any of their knowledge. By placing Judaics in the same category as secular studies, one lowers it to a subject to be conquered and put behind.
Fallacy #4. All day schools will benefit from the same benchmarks.
Where I live, there are three day schools: one is yeshivish, one is Modern Orthodox, and one is Chabad. Each one of them bills itself as a community school, so they are not rigid in their definitions. However, a yeshivish school would probably be interested in assessing Aramaic vocabulary and Gemara skills, a MO school would focus on mastery of modern Hebrew and Israel's history, and a Chabad school would lean towards knowledge of Chassidut. What will happen to the students when one system of assesment will be applied to all? Will they all bristle at the centralized planning instead of imparting their unique flavor to Judaism?
Fallacy #5. By high school graduation, the students must possess all the skills and the knowledge that they will need for the rest of their lives.
In America, we are obsessed with graduation. We make a big party, followed by infamous note burning of all the burdensome knowledge. Not only we graduate from high school, but we also graduate from middle school and even kindergarten. We love to celebrate the end. The Judaisms' view is the direct opposite. The Hebrew word ×œ×—× ×š means to educate. However, the same word also means to inaugurate. An inauguration is a process through which an object is designated for a specific use from this point on. An inauguration has a beginning, but no end. When we are truly educating students in Judaics, the message is that one can always grow in Torah learning, even if he does not have a specific set of skills yet. A high school student, while appearing very mature and set, is still quite early on in his quest of knowledge. The attitude towards learning that one carries out of his Jewish day school education is more important than the skills. If one believes that there is a whole wide world of learning waiting for him, one will not let a lack of skills in an area get in the way. However, if one is constantly assessed and held to the external standards, one might easily fall into the trap believing that once those standards are reached, there is no need to further learning.
Instead of promoting external standards, I humbly suggest pursuing initiatives which allow each student to explore material at his own pace. We need a Khan academy for Judaism. We need to support initiatives like the Mercava and Sefaria. We need to invest in better apps and better infrastructure. We need to focus on building relationships between educators and students as a bedrock of מסורה transmission. But more than that, we need to teach all the parents and all the teachers that each student is unique and different and needs to be taught according to his needs.
Tuesday, February 17, 2015
mindfulness
Being mindful.
Davening with kavanah.
Making time to notice small things.
Meditation.
Focusing with intent.
All these lovely terms are thrown around all the time, and are so important. We all need to take that time in the day to breathe, to think, to be ourselves, to ask ourselves what's important, to calm down, to connect to G-d, to clarify priorities. Yet, how is one supposed to go about achieving any of these?
In Judaism, women are not obligated in time-bound commandments, such as structured prayer three times a day. Women are not obligated to wear tefillin, which is a time-bound mitzvah. Some consider this to be sexist, and I have known feminist-leaning friends who, while considering themselves orthodox, do put on tefillin. But they tend to be younger, unmarried, and without kids. They are agents of their own day, of their own time. If they sleep in and miss the proper time, it is due to their own negligence.
Yesterday I managed to wake up before anyone else in my household. I crept out in darkness, turned on laptop and browsed for prenatal yoga videos. I have two DVDs with prenatanl yoga, but each runs closer to 45 minutes, which I knew I did not have. I found a free, streaming 20 minute video, turned the volume down, laid out my mat, and prepared to breathe and stretch, to calm my mind, to focus. Exactly four minutes in, just as I closed my eyes and centered my breath, 1 yo woke up. If you think it is possible to do yoga from a laptop with a 1 yo, I invite you to try. He will either bang on the keyboard, or sit on me. More likely, he will try to pull the yoga mat from under me. I hastily disassembled and picked him up.
I tried saying brachot (morning blessings), which I do say every day, but usually somebody decides that it is a perfect time to talk to me, or grab my back, or stand on the couch and moan along.
Even bentching is not safe. I try to say it slower, with intent of thankfulness for the meal and connection to G-d, but yesterday, as 1 yo heard me bentching, first he ran over, excited, with a bentcher and then he proceeded to declare: "Poopy! Change diaper!" while itching his backside and tugging at my skirt. Dear offspring, don't you see that mommy is in need of her moment of mindfulness here? Don't you appreciate the kind of halachic problem you are creating?
But the offspring is oblivious. The offspring is little and needy and self-centered. The offspring needs hugs and attention, the offspring clamors for connection. And the offspring takes precedence over mommy's mindfulness.
How do you find time to focus and center yourself?
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Making time to notice small things.
Meditation.
Focusing with intent.
All these lovely terms are thrown around all the time, and are so important. We all need to take that time in the day to breathe, to think, to be ourselves, to ask ourselves what's important, to calm down, to connect to G-d, to clarify priorities. Yet, how is one supposed to go about achieving any of these?
In Judaism, women are not obligated in time-bound commandments, such as structured prayer three times a day. Women are not obligated to wear tefillin, which is a time-bound mitzvah. Some consider this to be sexist, and I have known feminist-leaning friends who, while considering themselves orthodox, do put on tefillin. But they tend to be younger, unmarried, and without kids. They are agents of their own day, of their own time. If they sleep in and miss the proper time, it is due to their own negligence.
Yesterday I managed to wake up before anyone else in my household. I crept out in darkness, turned on laptop and browsed for prenatal yoga videos. I have two DVDs with prenatanl yoga, but each runs closer to 45 minutes, which I knew I did not have. I found a free, streaming 20 minute video, turned the volume down, laid out my mat, and prepared to breathe and stretch, to calm my mind, to focus. Exactly four minutes in, just as I closed my eyes and centered my breath, 1 yo woke up. If you think it is possible to do yoga from a laptop with a 1 yo, I invite you to try. He will either bang on the keyboard, or sit on me. More likely, he will try to pull the yoga mat from under me. I hastily disassembled and picked him up.
I tried saying brachot (morning blessings), which I do say every day, but usually somebody decides that it is a perfect time to talk to me, or grab my back, or stand on the couch and moan along.
Even bentching is not safe. I try to say it slower, with intent of thankfulness for the meal and connection to G-d, but yesterday, as 1 yo heard me bentching, first he ran over, excited, with a bentcher and then he proceeded to declare: "Poopy! Change diaper!" while itching his backside and tugging at my skirt. Dear offspring, don't you see that mommy is in need of her moment of mindfulness here? Don't you appreciate the kind of halachic problem you are creating?
But the offspring is oblivious. The offspring is little and needy and self-centered. The offspring needs hugs and attention, the offspring clamors for connection. And the offspring takes precedence over mommy's mindfulness.
How do you find time to focus and center yourself?
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
some hard choices for next year
This past Sunday was the height of insanity: we attended an open house for one local dayschool, followed by a movie screening for "Class Dismissed". Oh, and it was my daughter's birthday, she turned 5, just the age for kindergarten or for chumash, depending on your perspective.
I have four kids, and I am expecting. I am also drowning. We are told that real drowning is really quiet, you have to watch for signs of it instead of expecting a victim to make a big loud splash and call for help. I feel that I am openly and loudly putting the signs out there that I am drowning, but I guess it appears to be quiet from the side, and a lot of people choose to look the other way.
I am very committed to the ideals of homeschooling. I know what it feels like when it is going smoothly, when kids are learning, when the sense of contentment and satisfaction fills the air. I also know what it feels like when things chafe and grate, and every day starts on a sour note and goes downhill from there. Lately, it's been feeling like drudgery, not unlike the feeling of school. There has been yelling and talking back, tantrums, messes, broken promises, unmet expectations (on both sides), and a whole lot of unhappiness. Some days I feel that we do not have a plan, others I feel overscheduled. And then throw in a newborn of unpredictable temperament into the mix, and you've got yourself a hot mess.
So I have been agonizing over the hardest decision: what to do with the kids for next year? Do I simply send all of them out, to give myself a year to regroup? Do I send out my oldest, to separate him from his impressionable brother, who is slowly coming into his own, in hope that school will give him structure and consequences? Do I send out 8 yo, hoping to alter the dynamic by having the "hardest" child out, and giving him a taste that other kids his age struggle with the same material? Do I send out my daughter, who is eager to go to school? Do I send out my 1 yo, in hopes that his active energy will be managed better outside the home and I will have some peace and quiet? Do I send out some combination of the above? Keep the older boys home while sending out the younger ones? Keep the younger ones home, do workbooks and reading at my daughter's bidding, and give them a chance to play and explore? Send out my oldest and my daughter, while focusing more on 8 yo?
I mull all these over and over in my head, I toss and turn and miss on sleep, yet the solution eludes me. I told the kids that school is a real possibility for next year, and they might not get much say in this decision.
The local, closest dayschool will not take 8 yo, despite incredible strides in his behavior over the past 6 months, since we have not started on medication or therapy. They would take my oldest son and daughter, and I could send 1 yo to a playgroup around the corner, running on the same schedule as a the school. But 10 yo will be in middle school, so drop off and pick up will be different from kindergarten and from 1 yo's playgroup.
The dayschool that held open house this past Sunday is probably off the table. They have the exact same schedule from infants through middle school, so that is a huge convenience factor. However, we attended on a Sunday, and all the kids that we met in the hallways, practicing for a play or basketball, did not wear a kippa. All the teachers and administrators were wearing slacks. They are clearly not marketing to the frum community. While the school is under Orthodox auspices, it is not a place where Judaism seemed to be a way of life. G-d did not enter the picture, but there were sprinklings of "feel-good" Jewish stuff, like random relics. The administrator obviously was more comfortable promoting the secular studies and enrichment over Judaics.
When we moved here, my husband quipped: there are two dayschools here: one does not believe in G-d and the other does not believe in dinosaurs. I hate having to decide between these two options.
A snippet: as my boys were touring the classrooms, they were reading posters on the walls. They wanted to stop and investigate further; the administrator was more interested in showing off "learning environment" and moving on. My oldest caught a math problem and noted how the prices for bananas and oranges in it were deflated. She exclaimed: you must have been to a grocery store to notice this! So I will be substituting real life for this educational fakeness which will supposedly be giving my kids real-life skills like thinking which this administrator insisted needed to be taught precisely through her thinking map program. I am sure it works great for some, and confuses others, but it sure makes administration feel great: we are teaching kids to think!
There is a third Orthodox option here, a Montessori-based Chabad school. It is on two campuses, one for preschool and kindergarten, and the other for elementary. We toured it with 8 yo back in November, as a possibility. They are holding their open house later this week, just for adults. The advantage is that their Judaism is authentic AND warm and fuzzy. The school is smaller, and they will probably take all four kids without too many discussions. The disadvantages are many: different approach to Judaism, which is more of a concern for older boys; weak academic stimulation due to poor resources, and kids are likely to languish without school supporting them or letting us know until they fail some sort of standardized test. Then again, if the goal is just to park kids somewhere not too damaging for a year and regroup, this might be an ideal place.
Now, for "Class Dismissed": I liked the movie. I recommend it for everyone: for those whose kids are in school. for those who are homeschooling, for those who contemplate homeschooling, but would never do it, etc. I think everyone can find something to take away from the movie. It follows a famly with two middle-school daughters, where mom pulls the girls out and chooses to homeschool. They try different approaches, talk to other homeschooling families, question their decision, try charter school, finally settling on an approach which works for them. After we finished, my husband said that he feels strengthened in his resolve to homeschool. I chuckled; I am committed to homeschooling, too, only we have slightly different circumstances. And this is where fantasy rubs against reality.
I am not aiming for school at home. I have dropped many of my expectations. I am ready to follow my children's lead and give them opportunities to pursue what interests them. The problem is, I have four of them already; I do not have a spouse who can routinely take kids with him to work, and I do not have that third parent (the girls' parents are divorced, so the girls spend some time with their father) to give the kids over and get some personal space. In fact, when they interviewed people on the street, the supposedly false assumption about needing three parents struck me as true.
What I do have are four kids withe very different personalities and needs (about to become five). One wants to socialize the whole day through, two want to sit at home and read. One wants an occasional play date, one wants a bunch of friends over for a competitive board game. One wants park non-stop, one wants a pet, one wants high-level science stimulation. Two crave imaginative play. One wants to scale every mountain, explore every rock, climb every tree. One wants Minecraft creativity and online socialization.
And then there is me, who also wants something, most likely a quiet hour here and there, and a nice hot cup of beverage, preferably the one I do not have to prepare myself, or clean up afterwards...
Oh, and then there is my husband. whose poor head is ready to explode as he is looking over dayschool tuition. It's a fact: even as a doctor, he is not making enough for us to be able to pay any of it in full. It is not a matter of being comfortable, or indulging; it's a matter of affordability. He is not making hundreds of thousands of dollars that would offset 50K that it would take to send my kids to school. So we will have to enter the world of explaining what is going on, how we have crazy medical school loans, how we are paying for every little aspect of our life ourselves.
I want homeschooling to work out, but I do not see how to do it successfully on my own. I don't want to send my kids to school and drive ourselves further into debt. But I also need to accept the reality that I cannot afford full-time help or assistant, and nobody in my immediate family will step up and take on that role. I also have to accept that my husband cannot do more educationally for my kids than sporadic learning, nor that he can reliably give me that breathing space. I will have to manage this aspect of my life by myself.
I have four kids, and I am expecting. I am also drowning. We are told that real drowning is really quiet, you have to watch for signs of it instead of expecting a victim to make a big loud splash and call for help. I feel that I am openly and loudly putting the signs out there that I am drowning, but I guess it appears to be quiet from the side, and a lot of people choose to look the other way.
I am very committed to the ideals of homeschooling. I know what it feels like when it is going smoothly, when kids are learning, when the sense of contentment and satisfaction fills the air. I also know what it feels like when things chafe and grate, and every day starts on a sour note and goes downhill from there. Lately, it's been feeling like drudgery, not unlike the feeling of school. There has been yelling and talking back, tantrums, messes, broken promises, unmet expectations (on both sides), and a whole lot of unhappiness. Some days I feel that we do not have a plan, others I feel overscheduled. And then throw in a newborn of unpredictable temperament into the mix, and you've got yourself a hot mess.
So I have been agonizing over the hardest decision: what to do with the kids for next year? Do I simply send all of them out, to give myself a year to regroup? Do I send out my oldest, to separate him from his impressionable brother, who is slowly coming into his own, in hope that school will give him structure and consequences? Do I send out 8 yo, hoping to alter the dynamic by having the "hardest" child out, and giving him a taste that other kids his age struggle with the same material? Do I send out my daughter, who is eager to go to school? Do I send out my 1 yo, in hopes that his active energy will be managed better outside the home and I will have some peace and quiet? Do I send out some combination of the above? Keep the older boys home while sending out the younger ones? Keep the younger ones home, do workbooks and reading at my daughter's bidding, and give them a chance to play and explore? Send out my oldest and my daughter, while focusing more on 8 yo?
I mull all these over and over in my head, I toss and turn and miss on sleep, yet the solution eludes me. I told the kids that school is a real possibility for next year, and they might not get much say in this decision.
The local, closest dayschool will not take 8 yo, despite incredible strides in his behavior over the past 6 months, since we have not started on medication or therapy. They would take my oldest son and daughter, and I could send 1 yo to a playgroup around the corner, running on the same schedule as a the school. But 10 yo will be in middle school, so drop off and pick up will be different from kindergarten and from 1 yo's playgroup.
The dayschool that held open house this past Sunday is probably off the table. They have the exact same schedule from infants through middle school, so that is a huge convenience factor. However, we attended on a Sunday, and all the kids that we met in the hallways, practicing for a play or basketball, did not wear a kippa. All the teachers and administrators were wearing slacks. They are clearly not marketing to the frum community. While the school is under Orthodox auspices, it is not a place where Judaism seemed to be a way of life. G-d did not enter the picture, but there were sprinklings of "feel-good" Jewish stuff, like random relics. The administrator obviously was more comfortable promoting the secular studies and enrichment over Judaics.
When we moved here, my husband quipped: there are two dayschools here: one does not believe in G-d and the other does not believe in dinosaurs. I hate having to decide between these two options.
A snippet: as my boys were touring the classrooms, they were reading posters on the walls. They wanted to stop and investigate further; the administrator was more interested in showing off "learning environment" and moving on. My oldest caught a math problem and noted how the prices for bananas and oranges in it were deflated. She exclaimed: you must have been to a grocery store to notice this! So I will be substituting real life for this educational fakeness which will supposedly be giving my kids real-life skills like thinking which this administrator insisted needed to be taught precisely through her thinking map program. I am sure it works great for some, and confuses others, but it sure makes administration feel great: we are teaching kids to think!
There is a third Orthodox option here, a Montessori-based Chabad school. It is on two campuses, one for preschool and kindergarten, and the other for elementary. We toured it with 8 yo back in November, as a possibility. They are holding their open house later this week, just for adults. The advantage is that their Judaism is authentic AND warm and fuzzy. The school is smaller, and they will probably take all four kids without too many discussions. The disadvantages are many: different approach to Judaism, which is more of a concern for older boys; weak academic stimulation due to poor resources, and kids are likely to languish without school supporting them or letting us know until they fail some sort of standardized test. Then again, if the goal is just to park kids somewhere not too damaging for a year and regroup, this might be an ideal place.
Now, for "Class Dismissed": I liked the movie. I recommend it for everyone: for those whose kids are in school. for those who are homeschooling, for those who contemplate homeschooling, but would never do it, etc. I think everyone can find something to take away from the movie. It follows a famly with two middle-school daughters, where mom pulls the girls out and chooses to homeschool. They try different approaches, talk to other homeschooling families, question their decision, try charter school, finally settling on an approach which works for them. After we finished, my husband said that he feels strengthened in his resolve to homeschool. I chuckled; I am committed to homeschooling, too, only we have slightly different circumstances. And this is where fantasy rubs against reality.
I am not aiming for school at home. I have dropped many of my expectations. I am ready to follow my children's lead and give them opportunities to pursue what interests them. The problem is, I have four of them already; I do not have a spouse who can routinely take kids with him to work, and I do not have that third parent (the girls' parents are divorced, so the girls spend some time with their father) to give the kids over and get some personal space. In fact, when they interviewed people on the street, the supposedly false assumption about needing three parents struck me as true.
What I do have are four kids withe very different personalities and needs (about to become five). One wants to socialize the whole day through, two want to sit at home and read. One wants an occasional play date, one wants a bunch of friends over for a competitive board game. One wants park non-stop, one wants a pet, one wants high-level science stimulation. Two crave imaginative play. One wants to scale every mountain, explore every rock, climb every tree. One wants Minecraft creativity and online socialization.
And then there is me, who also wants something, most likely a quiet hour here and there, and a nice hot cup of beverage, preferably the one I do not have to prepare myself, or clean up afterwards...
Oh, and then there is my husband. whose poor head is ready to explode as he is looking over dayschool tuition. It's a fact: even as a doctor, he is not making enough for us to be able to pay any of it in full. It is not a matter of being comfortable, or indulging; it's a matter of affordability. He is not making hundreds of thousands of dollars that would offset 50K that it would take to send my kids to school. So we will have to enter the world of explaining what is going on, how we have crazy medical school loans, how we are paying for every little aspect of our life ourselves.
I want homeschooling to work out, but I do not see how to do it successfully on my own. I don't want to send my kids to school and drive ourselves further into debt. But I also need to accept the reality that I cannot afford full-time help or assistant, and nobody in my immediate family will step up and take on that role. I also have to accept that my husband cannot do more educationally for my kids than sporadic learning, nor that he can reliably give me that breathing space. I will have to manage this aspect of my life by myself.
Monday, December 15, 2014
PVC pipe menorah
 |
| Before |
 |
| Marking off the measurements |
This year, I had the whole plan to make a base for the menorah out of PVC connectors. I was hoping that the boys would design the stand, make all the measurements and I would serve as an advisor and chauffeur to Home Depot for the supplies. As it was getting closer to Chanukah, it was becoming clearer that if i wanted the menorah to have a base, I will need to take matters into my own hands.
 |
| 10 yo using PVC cutters. I was nervous about his fingers, but he was quite careful |
Very conveniently, a local Chabad was holding a menorah building workshop in Home Depot this past Sunday. I signed the kids up, and, once they were situated under my husband's supervision, I went off to collect the necessary supplies. I must have been quite a sight, marching through the store with a 10 foot pipe protruding from both ends of the cart. I got one long pipe, T connectors to hold up each "candle" and X connectors for stabilizing feet. I also got super cement to glue the whole thing together. Finally, I splurged on PVC cutters, as I was not sure what length we will need for each piece.
This morning, I started off by telling 10 yo that his math involved figuring out how to measure and cut the correct length of each piece. We sketched and diagrammed. I ended up calculating with him together. It was not as trivial as it appeared, and he ended up having to multiply both decimals and fractions (that is the section that he is currently learning in math). Once all the measurements and the calculations were complete, we had to wait for 1 yo take his nap, so I could focus on the older kids. |
| the base |
At the beginning, all three participated, but then the younger two went off to play. 10 yo did most of the work. He marked off the measurements, used cutters to clip sections, and connected the pieces. He commented how the completed base looked like an antenna. I ended up winding up the lights.Two of the strands were used for the Succah, so I'm yet to retrieve them.
 |
| attaching the legs to the base |
 |
| After |
I did not ended up using PVC cement, as we found that the piece fit in snugly without it. I liked the idea that I can take the menorah apart every year instead of being forced to store it as one bulky piece (it is 5 feet long). That being said, I am not sure whether it will be sturdy enough without the glue holding the pipes in place. We will live and we will learn.
Sunday, February 16, 2014
a shout out to mikvah ladies
We all hear horror stories about mikvah ladies. That one touched you when you did not wan to be touched, this one told you to do this, or you won't tovel, the other one made you wait while she chatted/walked away/picked her nose... we have all heard those. But how about some good ones?
I have been married for 11 years, and we have moved a few times, so I have been to different mikvaot dozens of times. What strikes me time and again, how often it goes well, it goes smoothly, and how much the mikvah ladies do behind the scenes for it to work. Often they do not get the recognition and appreciation they deserve because it is a tznius issue, and nobody discusses AFTERWARDS what went right.
So here is a shout-out to all the amazing mikvah ladies. The ones who do their job as it is supposed to be done.
I have been married for 11 years, and we have moved a few times, so I have been to different mikvaot dozens of times. What strikes me time and again, how often it goes well, it goes smoothly, and how much the mikvah ladies do behind the scenes for it to work. Often they do not get the recognition and appreciation they deserve because it is a tznius issue, and nobody discusses AFTERWARDS what went right.
- A mikva lady asking me what I want checked, how I want to tovel and giving me utmost privacy.
- A mikvah lady not batting an eyelash at my long nails.
- A mikvah lady being all cool when I have to tovel on Shabbos. And motzei Yom Kippur. And Purim night. And seder night. And second day of yom tov. Inevitably there is more than one woman hanging around, waiting for the correct z'man, and inevitably the conversation goes: I was so worried that you are coming out just for me!
- A mikvah lady opening a mikvah on second day of yom tov just for me in a different community.
- A mikvah lady who is all calm and smiles as I finally pull up, half an hour late, lost in unfamiliar community.
- A mikvah lady who tells me it's OK that I do not happen to have enough cash (I did not check the fee carefully).
- A mikvah lady who makes me feel like I have all the time in the world to get ready.
- A mikvah lady who is giving me later and later appointments as I am waiting for my husband to come home from being stuck in traffic.
So here is a shout-out to all the amazing mikvah ladies. The ones who do their job as it is supposed to be done.
Saturday, December 21, 2013
Great Friday night
It hasn't happened in such a long time, that I almost forgot how fun we can all be. Between the day-to-day stresses of running a household, between my husband working, between the diagnosis of 7 yo and possibility of school for 9 yo, between the baby still not quite sleeping through the night, it is so easy to be constantly in a crisis managing mode, and oh-so-serious.
What we all needed was a break, and we somehow pulled it off this Friday night. We had no company, not even my in-laws. I made a very simple meal: curry cauliflower soup from "Manna from Heaven" that my kids adore, salmon, potatoes and salad. For dessert we had a banana cream pie from Walmart sale rack (9 yo said it tasted like fluoride treatment at the dentist, but it sure looked good!) On Friday morning the kids listened to Rabbi Juravel on the parsha from shabbat.com. I am not so comfortable with the amount of misrashim that he puts into story, but he gets kids engaged and they do know what is there, and are eager to discuss it, so for now, that is our parsha learning.
My husband got home early enough before shabbos to clean the house a bit. I am not talking spic and span, more so one can walk without stepping on Cheerios. The local minyan around the corner was not happening this week, so he stayed home for mincha and maariv. We even sang a bit of Lecha Dodi. My boys do not want to go to shul with him, so for them, it was not so different from a regular Friday night.
Once we made kiddush and hamotzi, and the meal got on its way, we started talking about the parsha. We give out jelly beans for answering a good question, and they are age-appropriate for each kid. 3 yo was not engaging, even though she heard quite a bit of the parsha, so I decided to do a bit of acting with her. I told her that she will be Miriam, and her doll will be Moshe. She loved having a mission to put her baby brother into a basket and watch him go down the river. My husband was playing the role of Egyptian princess, and 7 yo was his maidservant. A pool noodle (I had it under the couch to prevent the toys form rolling there, but it was appropriated as a weapon) was used as a long arm to reach the baby. My husband was pretty funny, claiming that he has no idea what to do with this baby, dangling the doll by one leg upside down. The kids were giggling. I sent 3 yo over, to offer to bring the baby's mother to nurse this baby. By this point, her real baby brother was trying to climb into the basket, and she was pushing him out, making space for doll Moshe.
Then the boys asked to act out Moshe and the burning bush. They assigned roles: 9 yo--Hashem's voice, 7 yo--lost sheep, 3 yo--snake, my husband as Moshe and I was the burning bush. The baby was just free crawling through this all. I got to wave the bright orange pillows, 3 yo kept jumping up and hissing, and sheep was bleating, and Hashem and Moshe has a very interesting conversation. The baby took off with Moshe's discarded shoes. The above-mentioned pool noodle became a staff, but then it morphed into a phone line. We all dissolved into laughter.
While I tucked in the baby, my husband read a good night story to the older kids. The whole night was just so nice and light-hearted, and fun.
As a baalat teshuva, I did not grow up with Shabbos. I did not go away to camp, and I did not go to Israel, so I do not have that amazing uplifting spiritual treasure trove of Shabbos experiences to tap into. Every now and then I get a glimpse of this alternate spiritual state that is Shabbos. I fret about it, I wish I knew how to maintain it and bring it to my family regularly. We keep Shabbos, we refrain from melacha and make kiddush. We daven, we go to shul and discuss parsha. And yet, often, that Shabbos feeling is not there. My husband might get called up, the kids sulk, I sulk, too much pressure to entertain and have company and go out, and socialize. I know it can be simple, but in the day-to-day living, it is so easy to lose track of how simple it can be.
I decided not to have people over any Shabbos that my husband might be called up. I also think that we need to establish one Shabbos a month when it is just us, and I can make a very simple meal, so that the emphasis will be on having a good time together.
What we all needed was a break, and we somehow pulled it off this Friday night. We had no company, not even my in-laws. I made a very simple meal: curry cauliflower soup from "Manna from Heaven" that my kids adore, salmon, potatoes and salad. For dessert we had a banana cream pie from Walmart sale rack (9 yo said it tasted like fluoride treatment at the dentist, but it sure looked good!) On Friday morning the kids listened to Rabbi Juravel on the parsha from shabbat.com. I am not so comfortable with the amount of misrashim that he puts into story, but he gets kids engaged and they do know what is there, and are eager to discuss it, so for now, that is our parsha learning.
My husband got home early enough before shabbos to clean the house a bit. I am not talking spic and span, more so one can walk without stepping on Cheerios. The local minyan around the corner was not happening this week, so he stayed home for mincha and maariv. We even sang a bit of Lecha Dodi. My boys do not want to go to shul with him, so for them, it was not so different from a regular Friday night.
Once we made kiddush and hamotzi, and the meal got on its way, we started talking about the parsha. We give out jelly beans for answering a good question, and they are age-appropriate for each kid. 3 yo was not engaging, even though she heard quite a bit of the parsha, so I decided to do a bit of acting with her. I told her that she will be Miriam, and her doll will be Moshe. She loved having a mission to put her baby brother into a basket and watch him go down the river. My husband was playing the role of Egyptian princess, and 7 yo was his maidservant. A pool noodle (I had it under the couch to prevent the toys form rolling there, but it was appropriated as a weapon) was used as a long arm to reach the baby. My husband was pretty funny, claiming that he has no idea what to do with this baby, dangling the doll by one leg upside down. The kids were giggling. I sent 3 yo over, to offer to bring the baby's mother to nurse this baby. By this point, her real baby brother was trying to climb into the basket, and she was pushing him out, making space for doll Moshe.
Then the boys asked to act out Moshe and the burning bush. They assigned roles: 9 yo--Hashem's voice, 7 yo--lost sheep, 3 yo--snake, my husband as Moshe and I was the burning bush. The baby was just free crawling through this all. I got to wave the bright orange pillows, 3 yo kept jumping up and hissing, and sheep was bleating, and Hashem and Moshe has a very interesting conversation. The baby took off with Moshe's discarded shoes. The above-mentioned pool noodle became a staff, but then it morphed into a phone line. We all dissolved into laughter.
While I tucked in the baby, my husband read a good night story to the older kids. The whole night was just so nice and light-hearted, and fun.
As a baalat teshuva, I did not grow up with Shabbos. I did not go away to camp, and I did not go to Israel, so I do not have that amazing uplifting spiritual treasure trove of Shabbos experiences to tap into. Every now and then I get a glimpse of this alternate spiritual state that is Shabbos. I fret about it, I wish I knew how to maintain it and bring it to my family regularly. We keep Shabbos, we refrain from melacha and make kiddush. We daven, we go to shul and discuss parsha. And yet, often, that Shabbos feeling is not there. My husband might get called up, the kids sulk, I sulk, too much pressure to entertain and have company and go out, and socialize. I know it can be simple, but in the day-to-day living, it is so easy to lose track of how simple it can be.
I decided not to have people over any Shabbos that my husband might be called up. I also think that we need to establish one Shabbos a month when it is just us, and I can make a very simple meal, so that the emphasis will be on having a good time together.
Saturday, December 7, 2013
playing with fire
As we were making havdalah, 7 yo used a lighter to light up the candle. I was watching him and a question from his evaluation popped into my head: did he ever try to set anything on fire? The answer: no, never. I understand the need for this kind of question, as it is an issue of figuring out whether an individual had destructive tendencies, but another part of it struck a different chord: this kid gets to play with fire on a regular basis, in a controlled environment, so even if he has those destructive tendencies, he has a good opportunity to channel them in a positive manner.
A year ago we attended this safety house workshop, where the kids are taught all about what to do in case of a fire, including a smoke simulation and crawling out a window. There, the point hammered time and again was how evil the candles were and how dangerous it is to have one in your house. Moms exchanged knowing glances and talked about the flameless candles. I sat there, quietly stunned. I light candles every Friday night, for Shabbos. The kids watch me light those candles. 3 yo occasionally joins me in lighting her candle. Of course, I keep the candlesticks high up, out of kids' reach. Of course, I do not allow horsing around near open flames. But to say that all candles are so bad and so dangerous? Perhaps we are taking it a bit too far.
When I taught middle school science, one of the experiments required the students to light up a match. I do not even remember why, but it did. Well, I had four sixth-grade boys. Out of four, one (ONE!) was able to light a match successfully. The others demurred, or their hands were shaky, or they did not know what they were doing. Sissies! We are raising up a generation of sissies. No wonder the second these adolescents finally figure out how to light up, they set everything on fire.
7 yo ( and 9 yo) have been interested in fire and matches and candles for a long time. My husband allows them to light up and extinguish a havdalah candle under his supervision. They are not very proficient with matches, but they are good with a long handled lighter. We just finished celebrating Chanukah. On every night, the kids lit up their own menorahs. There is open fire, there is a skill of holding a burning candle so that you can light up the others, there is dripping hot wax, there is quite a bit of a mess. But there is also the beauty of flickering flames, and the pride of lighting up your own menorah. There is singing with the family while watching those candles.Why would anyone want to set fire after that?
Saturday, November 23, 2013
a small miracle happened here
Tonight, an hour before it was time for kids to get into bed, I casually suggested that they do some Chanukah decoration. I have been casually suggesting it for the past week, especially if someone came up interested in a project, but it hadn't taken off. Tonight the moment was right, so the three olders busily got something going. 9 yo was making an ancient poster:
3 yo was coloring in some pages that I printed earlier during the week from chinuch.org.
7 yo was set on making a shamash holder from one of his Chanukah books, but then he decided to look into making Chanukah treats: edible dreidels and menorah. I suggested that he write down the shopping list of what we need. I cannot tell how many times we have found ourselves in this situation: he comes up with a project with multiple items, I suggest making a list of what he needs, he balks, and that's the end of it. Tonight a small miracle took place. He said, OK, went to the fridge, tore off a shopping list form, and copied the ingredients that we are missing. I was barely containing my excitement, he finally had to write and just wrote, no freak-out, no meltdown, no avoidance. He even had to write down Hershey kisses, which he could not copy. He asked for help. I told him to write down "her" and he capitalized it, then he said, "sh" and then "e". I added "y". For "kisses" he wrote "kise', then said that it's not right, switched "e" for "s" and remembered "es". To top off tonight's feat, he also colored in the lines.
Not huge accomplishments for a 7 yo, I know, but these are good strides in the right direction.
I leave you with an image of Pikachu helping Maccabees out, courtesy of 9 yo.
3 yo was coloring in some pages that I printed earlier during the week from chinuch.org.
7 yo was set on making a shamash holder from one of his Chanukah books, but then he decided to look into making Chanukah treats: edible dreidels and menorah. I suggested that he write down the shopping list of what we need. I cannot tell how many times we have found ourselves in this situation: he comes up with a project with multiple items, I suggest making a list of what he needs, he balks, and that's the end of it. Tonight a small miracle took place. He said, OK, went to the fridge, tore off a shopping list form, and copied the ingredients that we are missing. I was barely containing my excitement, he finally had to write and just wrote, no freak-out, no meltdown, no avoidance. He even had to write down Hershey kisses, which he could not copy. He asked for help. I told him to write down "her" and he capitalized it, then he said, "sh" and then "e". I added "y". For "kisses" he wrote "kise', then said that it's not right, switched "e" for "s" and remembered "es". To top off tonight's feat, he also colored in the lines.
Not huge accomplishments for a 7 yo, I know, but these are good strides in the right direction.
I leave you with an image of Pikachu helping Maccabees out, courtesy of 9 yo.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
three examples of child-led learning
We are at the homeschooling coop. 7 yo is sitting next to his good friend, who is eating some kind of candy, of gusher type. The friend offers some to 7 yo. He says that he needs to see the package, to check if it's kosher. Upon expecting the small pouch, he says that it's not. His friend asks whether he can just look at the candy and decide by sight, but 7 yo says that he cannot have it.
Two main objectives of kashrut are achieved: being thoughtful about what goes in your mouth, and being able to control yourself.
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This morning, we are doing math. 7yo's work is identifying numbers up to 1000. He usually does two pages, sometimes one if it's too tough. This morning he takes a look and decides that he wants to do three pages. He feels confident and goes right on ahead.
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Next, we are doing Lashon HaTorah. He has a page of writing in translations, something that he dreaded the previous time and skipped in favor of the following, easier page of cutting and pasting. This time, he gets colored pencils, on his own colors in the suffixes, highlights the plural yud, and starts on the translation. On the words is "kindness", in plural. He says, oh, I get to write three S. I mention that he will have to add -es, and he asks, why. I explain about words ending in -s and -x, and how in order to make them plural, you add -es. He giggles and writes "kindnesses". A natural grammar lesson, sneaked in on a need-to-know basis. No drill necessary, and he asks what happens with plural of "horse".
Two main objectives of kashrut are achieved: being thoughtful about what goes in your mouth, and being able to control yourself.
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This morning, we are doing math. 7yo's work is identifying numbers up to 1000. He usually does two pages, sometimes one if it's too tough. This morning he takes a look and decides that he wants to do three pages. He feels confident and goes right on ahead.
----
Next, we are doing Lashon HaTorah. He has a page of writing in translations, something that he dreaded the previous time and skipped in favor of the following, easier page of cutting and pasting. This time, he gets colored pencils, on his own colors in the suffixes, highlights the plural yud, and starts on the translation. On the words is "kindness", in plural. He says, oh, I get to write three S. I mention that he will have to add -es, and he asks, why. I explain about words ending in -s and -x, and how in order to make them plural, you add -es. He giggles and writes "kindnesses". A natural grammar lesson, sneaked in on a need-to-know basis. No drill necessary, and he asks what happens with plural of "horse".
Thursday, November 7, 2013
why would anyone be doing this?
See these angles, studiously working together each in their workbook? No, this is not a posed photo, but it lasted a total of four minutes.
Today I had a visit from a friend who is considering homeschooling her older child. Shew wanted to see what curriculum I use. I warned her that we do not have much in the way of curriculum nowadays, but sure, come see what I've got. Since there was a bit of back-and-forth about when and whether she would come at all, I decided not to tell the kids in advance. We did not have a smooth morning, but I was hoping that things would calm down by the afternoon. I do not believe in whitewashing what homeschooling is really like, but I did not expect my kids to put the worst foot forward.
As soon as she got here, with her two sweet younger kids, my kids got off the wall. 3 yo was running around yelling, 9 yo was interjecting and I was having a hard time carrying on a conversation. Her kids clung to her. I suggested going down to the basement, where the toys are. Her kids would not go without her, which is totally understandable since mine were behaving like wildebeests. I got around to showing math (about the only subject in which we follow a curriculum) and she started telling me about the reservations that she has, but we did not get far. My kids started jumping and sliding down a mattress. 9 yo started fighting with the younger ones. 3 yo screamed into her baby's face. I tried telling her that this is not the way she would want to be treated, and she should not treat others like that, but she ran away laughing.
This lady looked at me and asked two pointed questions: is there any place I can send the kids for a bit, and do I get out to do anything on my own? The answer to both questions was no. I told her that I am not the best spokesperson for homeschooling at the moment. She had a look of someone not sure why anyone would be doing this in the first place. And I could not explain why this makes sense. I started trying to summon some of our better moments, but I kept getting interrupted by sulking 9 yo. As a final salvo, he removed the pedal off the baby gate, locking us in the basement. There I am, fumbling with the gate, while she is patiently waiting next to me...
Ooh, this was quite embarrassing. So why am I doing this? My kids have no middos, slack off, do not do their schoolwork and do not allow for a grown-up conversation.
Yet, just as I am despairing, everything gets flipped.
At dinner, 7 yo mentioned how he would like to have African Grey Parrot as a pet, since it is so smart and you can teach it things. He was planning to teach it mathematics, and everything that he knows. I probed what all this knowledge included, and he said something about Hashem. 9 yo said that African Grey has intelligence of a 6 year old, so he could be taught to think about Hashem. I said that animals cannot know about Hashem and cannot be taught such abstract ideas. That lead to a question: what does every kid at the table know about Hashem? 3 yo first demurred, but then said that we daven to Hashem. I asked her why, and she said, that's what we are supposed to do. 7 yo passed, saying that he is asking questions, not ready to answer. 9 yo said that Hashem created everything, and is in charge of everything, and was always here and knows why everything is the way it is. 7 yo wanted to know how Hashem was there before the world was here, and all of a sudden we are discussing dark matter (all of this while I am trying to feed the baby).
I got that distinct feeling of satisfaction, this is what homeschooling is about: a nice open dinner conversation, everyone is engaged and comfortable sharing or passing, religion and science freely mixing, and my children expressing ideas about G-d on their level, each of them true.
3 yo all of a sudden piped up: "Speaking about G-d... G-d bless America!" We were listening to that in the car earlier today. The boys cracked up, then 7 yo asked: "Why should Hashem bless America?" That led to another discussion about religious freedom. 9 yo knew that it is part of the Bill of Rights, and no, I did not teach that to him, he must have read it on his own. I also explained how Jews are not free to practice in every country, and this makes America special.
In a nutshell, homeschooling is tough. There are so many things to despair about, and so many things to feel good about. I just need to work on getting us more towards those feel-good moments.
As soon as she got here, with her two sweet younger kids, my kids got off the wall. 3 yo was running around yelling, 9 yo was interjecting and I was having a hard time carrying on a conversation. Her kids clung to her. I suggested going down to the basement, where the toys are. Her kids would not go without her, which is totally understandable since mine were behaving like wildebeests. I got around to showing math (about the only subject in which we follow a curriculum) and she started telling me about the reservations that she has, but we did not get far. My kids started jumping and sliding down a mattress. 9 yo started fighting with the younger ones. 3 yo screamed into her baby's face. I tried telling her that this is not the way she would want to be treated, and she should not treat others like that, but she ran away laughing.
This lady looked at me and asked two pointed questions: is there any place I can send the kids for a bit, and do I get out to do anything on my own? The answer to both questions was no. I told her that I am not the best spokesperson for homeschooling at the moment. She had a look of someone not sure why anyone would be doing this in the first place. And I could not explain why this makes sense. I started trying to summon some of our better moments, but I kept getting interrupted by sulking 9 yo. As a final salvo, he removed the pedal off the baby gate, locking us in the basement. There I am, fumbling with the gate, while she is patiently waiting next to me...
Ooh, this was quite embarrassing. So why am I doing this? My kids have no middos, slack off, do not do their schoolwork and do not allow for a grown-up conversation.
Yet, just as I am despairing, everything gets flipped.
At dinner, 7 yo mentioned how he would like to have African Grey Parrot as a pet, since it is so smart and you can teach it things. He was planning to teach it mathematics, and everything that he knows. I probed what all this knowledge included, and he said something about Hashem. 9 yo said that African Grey has intelligence of a 6 year old, so he could be taught to think about Hashem. I said that animals cannot know about Hashem and cannot be taught such abstract ideas. That lead to a question: what does every kid at the table know about Hashem? 3 yo first demurred, but then said that we daven to Hashem. I asked her why, and she said, that's what we are supposed to do. 7 yo passed, saying that he is asking questions, not ready to answer. 9 yo said that Hashem created everything, and is in charge of everything, and was always here and knows why everything is the way it is. 7 yo wanted to know how Hashem was there before the world was here, and all of a sudden we are discussing dark matter (all of this while I am trying to feed the baby).
I got that distinct feeling of satisfaction, this is what homeschooling is about: a nice open dinner conversation, everyone is engaged and comfortable sharing or passing, religion and science freely mixing, and my children expressing ideas about G-d on their level, each of them true.
3 yo all of a sudden piped up: "Speaking about G-d... G-d bless America!" We were listening to that in the car earlier today. The boys cracked up, then 7 yo asked: "Why should Hashem bless America?" That led to another discussion about religious freedom. 9 yo knew that it is part of the Bill of Rights, and no, I did not teach that to him, he must have read it on his own. I also explained how Jews are not free to practice in every country, and this makes America special.
In a nutshell, homeschooling is tough. There are so many things to despair about, and so many things to feel good about. I just need to work on getting us more towards those feel-good moments.
Saturday, September 7, 2013
meaningful Rosh HaShana
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| a fish names gefilte |
We went to shul, but not our regular shul. Our regular shul does not have babysitting for all ages and for the whole service, so we go to the other shul. 9 yo was unhappy to be missing his regular shabbos groups, but he did not seem interested to be in shul either. I got all the kids for shofar and then they went back to babysitting. Later I found out that 9 yo snuk out, because he was telling me about seeing people bow down on the floor for Aleinu.
I am always berating myself for not producing enough rich and meaningful experiences on Shabbos and chagim. Being a baalat teshuva, I have this nagging feeling that if only I knew how to capture that spirit, that moment, that opportunity for growth and spirituality, my kids would want to enjoy shabbos and yom tov more. I fret a lot about losing that yom tov feeling, not being in a zone and how that affects my kids. Then we'll have some sort of experience and I see that, somehow, we've still got it.
Yesterday morning, seemingly out of the blue, 9 yo asked me to forgive him for all that he has done wrong. It seemed very sincere, so I dropped everything, walked over to him, hugged him and said that I forgive him. I apologized to him for yelling at him so much, and he forgave me. It was a very sweet moment, almost Hallmark-y. Seeing this, 7 yo got agitated and said that he does not feel like it's Rosh HaShana and he does not know how to daven and he cannot daven. I think he was not ready to ask for forgiveness, or the need to ask for forgiveness did not hit him the same way, but he had hard time expressing it.
Later, when Shabbos already started, somehow the calendar discussion came up. This year, just by looking at the wall calendar, 7 yo figured out that Rosh HaShana is on rosh chodesh, and he's getting a really big kick out of it. Then we started talking about the days between Rosh HaShana and Yom Kippur and somehow the conversation segued into what it takes to do teshuva (to repent). I started going over the steps and asked for an example of a sin. 7 yo piped in: "You bought an etrog from a bad city". I guess he was listening closely to his brother's mishna lesson! We tried coming up with a more pertinent example, but the boys were running wild with worshiping idols or killing people or other, quite severe and inapplicable actions. My husband suggested hitting your brother, which hit a bit too close to home, as 9 yo asked not to use the word "you" in an example. We settled on a kid ice skating and tripping other people up, just for fun.
Finally I thought we got to the steps. I said that first you have to realize that you are sinning, then you need to stop sinning, then you have to apologize to people whom you've tripped up (people that you caused to die came up AGAIN, the gruesomeness factor is just off the charts) and then you have to say viduy (personal verbal confession). 9 yo wanted to find out what you say in that confession, so I opened up a linear machzor and showed him. He read it with great interest and kept on reading, but after a page he wanted to know where is the end. I explained how viduy contains all possible ways in which people could be sinning and that's why it is so long, to jog your memory to anything specific.
7 yo kept talking about the scales before Hashem and how he hopes that his scales tip crazily towards merit. 9 yo wanted to know whether it is better to do one mitzvah, or to remove an aveirah. In this manner, sometimes solemn, sometimes silly, but totally spontaneous, we established the spirit of Yamim Noraim.
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