Biking and Arabs

I taught Eshy how to ride a bike yesterday.  I don't know how many other fathers are thinking about Dewey's concept of Psychologization or Vygotsky's Zone of Proximal Development when teaching their children to ride a bike, but I was (some of the people reading this blog will think that is marvellous - eg JTS students past and present - and some will think I am sad and should get a life - eg my mum, brother, etc).  Anyway, the proof of the pudding is in the pedaling, and I am happy to report that after a 1/2 hour in the morning and 20 minutes in the evening, Eshy is riding a bike as if he has been doing it for years.  He is over the moon with himself, it is lovely to see.  And I, of course, view this as cast-iron empirical proof that educational theory is not a load of waffle, but actually works!

Anyway, the biking reminded me of an incident with Eshy a few weeks ago, soon after we first arrived.  We were in Jerusalem on the Tayelet, a beautiful promenade that overlooks East Jerusalem, the Old City, and West Jerusalem.  On one end of the Tayelet there are some statue-sort-of-things - I guess it's some kind of modern art installation, but when we were there it was being used as a climbing frame by a bunch of kids, as most modern art installations should be.  Of course, my kids wanted to go play.  When we got there, I noticed that the other kids climbing on it were Israeli Arabs.  Eshy, being his usual adventurous self, wanted me to lift him up to the top part.  This Arab girl was sitting there, though.  There was room for Eshy as well, but it made it a bit crowded there.  I lifted him up, and he sat next to the Arab girl, and then after a bit she climbed down.

Was it just me, or was there some kind of analogy going on there?

I was my usual lily-livered liberal self, saying to Eshy "make sure you make room for the girl too, make sure you don't push her as you climb on, remember that she has a right to self-determination as well" (ok, I didn't actually say that last part).

"Those bloody Jews", I imagine her saying.  "First they steal my land, then they cut down my olive trees, and now they chuck me off the climbing frame?"

Eshy, of course, was oblivious to the whole thing and just wanted to have fun.  (Maybe that fits into the analogy as well?)

Religious or Secular?

One of the frustrating things about Israel is that for most Israelis, there is either "religious" or "secular" and not a lot of grey space in between. This is a big problem for us in choosing a school for our kids, which maybe I'll write about another time, but it also affects little everyday interactions as well, sometimes in ways that are just breath-takingly astounding and appalling.

For example, as we get settled into Modi'in, we've started thinking about whether we would want to buy a place here. We started speaking with a couple of realtors/estate agents, and this morning we went with one to see a place. Half an hour before we were due to meet her, she called my cellphone and said: "I just realised I forgot to tell you that this place is on a street where there are lots of datiim [religious people]. Is that a problem for you?"

I said no.

And after I hung up, I thought to myself: can you imagine an American realtor saying "there are lots of African-Americans on this street. Is that a problem for you?"

Or: "There are lots of Jews on this street. Is that a problem for you?"

And the worst thing is, the fact that she asked the question implies that she knows that there are some clients who would say "yes, it is a problem. Let's look somewhere else".

When you read about "the religious-secular divide" in Israel, it's not just about Russians needing to get married in Cyprus. It's about estate agents too.

Boxes (ii)

Our new apartment is finally beginning to look like home.

i.e. messy, disorganised, and everything in the wrong place.

Boxes

Our shipment finally arrived at the end of last week, and we have been living among boxes - over 200 of them - since then. We are slowly, slowly, making progress, unpacking and organising.

Here is a little story about getting our shipment stuff cleared through customs.

We are "returning residents" which basically means we get no "rights" at all, except the right to bring in a shipment of household goods duty free. Household goods means furniture, clothes, books, etc, and also extends to most small and large appliances. The only things that we knew we would have to pay customs duty on were a few electronic things like our DVD player.

When we got the breakdown of charges payable from the shipping company representative, it included customs duty on our sukkah frame. (We have one of those metal click-together sukkahs, just like the Israelites in the desert used). Peri was on the phone with the shipping company woman at the time (she deals with all these things because I can't, not because my Hebrew isn't good enough but because I would end up shouting and getting hung up on too many times - see previous blog post re the policeman in Modiin!) Well, when I realised what was going on, it just got too much for me. I started shouting at the phone: "what, a sukkah isn't considered a household good in Israel? This is the Jewish state for crying out loud! How can you claim that a sukkah frame isn't a household good? In Nazi Germany I can understand that they'd charge you customs duty on it, but this is Israel" and so on and so on.

Bottom line: we paid the duty. I am banned from the telephone.

Op-Ed in Jerusalem Report

Here is a link to my op-ed that appeared in the latest edition of the Jerusalem Report. Many of you at JTS may recognise its contents from various classes/Israel trips/chats in the corridor.

Modi'in

As many of you know, Peri and I decided to try living in Modi'in for the year, rather than Jerusalem, where we had previously thought we would go. There were lots of different reasons for that decision that I won't go into. But Peri has a theory about Modi'in and I thought I would share it. Modi'in has been around for only 11 years, and is called "the city of the future". It bills itself as the first Israel city to have been planned thoughtfully, which is a) true, b) a brilliant marketing statement, and c) a rather damning indictment of the previous 100 or so years of Zionist settlement... Modi'in has lots of green space - many of its main roads have the two carriageways separated by lovely grassy areas with playgrounds every 100 yards, which make walking around the city with kids a real joy. In general there are lots of roundabouts (=traffic circles in the US), which calm traffic, and it has a certain American feel about it, right down to the huge shopping centre about 5 minutes outside of town, which feels like it could almost be a Florida strip mall. And because everything in the city is maximum 11 years old, it all feels new, clean, fresh.

So Peri's theory is that Modi'in is a social experiment on Israelis. We all know the standard stereotype of Israelis: loud, aggressive, rude, etc. Modi'in's social experiment says: what if we put all these loud, aggressive, rude people in a nice, calm, well-organised place. Would they begin to calm down and be more polite, cultured, pleasant?

(With my ex-professor-of-Jewish-education's hat on, I would restate this as follows: to what extent does the plausibility structure of Modi'in change the behaviour of those who are exposed to it on an ongoing basis?)

So far, our observation of this social experiment is that it might actually be working. In Modi'in, people seem to drive more calmly. There is not as much hooting/honking. Service in the cafes here is... well, let's not get ahead of ourselves, it's acceptable, but compared to many other corners of the country, that's a huge step forward!

Let me leave you with this vignette to prove the point. Yesterday, I got aggravated at a traffic light and started shouting at this woman in the street who had been having a conversation with the driver of the car in front of me, thus leaving me to get stuck at the red light. I, er, also nearly went through the red light, before Peri, who was in the passenger's seat, screamed blue murder and made me stop in the nick of time. Anyway, just my luck, a policemen was watching the whole thing: my shouting at the woman in the street, my nearly going through a red light, etc. He pulls me over and takes my license and registration. I fear the worst. Peri transitions from blue murder to the silent treatment.

The policeman comes back and says: "Look, you're in a calm place now [he used the Hebrew word "ragua" which I have never previously associated with the Israeli driving experience]. No-one else is hooting here. It's just you. Take this as a warning. In the future calm down". And with that he gave me back my stuff and left.

So now I am officially a calm Modi'in resident. Jerusalem may be more religiously exciting, a more Jewishly powerful environment, but if Modi'in keeps my blood pressure down at the traffic lights, it has a lot going for it.