I have a few questions...
Of late, some questions have presented themselves to me which I have decided to share with my readership. Here we go.
1. Why, why, why does the Hebrew letter vav (ו) have four different possible meanings?
Multi-talented, my ulpan teacher says, but still - when it's at the start of a word it's usually v, though if there are two of them then it's w. Same in the middle of the word. Sometimes it's o, sometimes it's u, sometimes it's whatever your best guess is. Come on!
2. Why do naughty children everywhere accuse you of picking on them when you tell them off, yet again, for talking over you constantly?
Today, for the first time since I started teaching at the Anglican School, a kid accused me of being racist because I told him off for talking over me and put his name, along with his two buddies, up on the board (classic teacher behaviour management strategy, name-on-the-board = possible detention). When I took umbrage at this statement - "Really, you want to accuse me of racism? Really? Are you sure about this? Because if so let's go to the headteacher's office right now." - he said he felt like I was always picking on him. I pointed out, as I have done many, many times before, that if he feels like I'm picking on him there's a reason, namely that he's always getting caught mid-conversation when he should be listening. I then gave one of my favourite responses to this sort of issue, inspired by a scene from The Shawshank Redemption where Andy Dufresne points out to a new inmate in Shawshank Prison that needs a new career; since he's always getting caught, he can't be a very good thief. "OK, if you feel like I'm picking on you, you have two possible avenues open to you. One is to stop talking all the time, then you won't get yelled at. The other is to get better at talking without getting caught."
I should note that this is the first time in 14 months I've had to say that to a kid, whereas in my last job accusations of this sort were a weekly occurrence. I still can't believe how well-behaved the kids at my new school are. Also, perhaps not really my 'new' school anymore.
3. Why do Israeli men insist on going hiking in nothing more than their underpants?
Now, don't get me wrong. I appreciate a man in his pants as much as the next girl, but in this as in all things context is king. I blogged recently about the shock we all felt when, after reaching the top of the cliff at Masada, we were confronted by the sight of a man in a Speedo who'd clearly hiked the same path. Imagine then my shock/confusion/amusement when I was greeted with a similar sight on a recent hike in the canyon at Wadi Qelt, which runs from En Prat near Jerusalem to Jericho, with some friends the other weekend. As so often happens on hikes over here we ran into a group of young soldiers out and about on a jolly and it being a clement day most of them had stripped down to their shorts; some of them were wearing flip flops yet still running through the canyon; a few of them had their guns along with them for good measure; they were all pretty darn young. And one of them was, totally unself-consciously, wearing nothing more than his (I have to say, somewhat clingy) underwear. Couldn't he have packed something more appropriate?
4. When will I stop missing sausages?
I love the food here. It's delicious. It's fresh. It's full of goodness and sunshine. But my goodness I miss eating sausages on a regular basis. Damien brought me two packs of Tesco Finest jumbo pork sausages and they went straight into the freezer (Damo, you are a hero). I defrosted a pack tonight and have just munched and lip-smacked my way through two of them for supper, with another two cooked ready for lunch tomorrow. Bacon I cope without, not least because Amos gets a supply of bacon from a Russian butcher somewhere in town that is decent enough. Sausages, on the other hand, are such a treat and eating them tonight (apologies if that sounds somewhat tragic) reminds me how much I miss them. Though I would imagine my cholesterol levels and my waistline are thanking me for eating so few of them these days. And obviously I don't miss them as much as, say, my godchildren.
N.B. The same question applies to Pieminister Pies, as does the same qualification involving cholesterol and my waistline (and my godchildren).
5. When does it become easier to find God in this city that is supposed to be one of the holiest in the world?
Really. I'm so, so, so grateful to my church which has really grounded me and helped me to connect with my faith again in a very real and positive way. But I still find it hard to walk that narrow path and am wondering when it will get easier. Rach said to me this week that I have a strong faith, so I'll make it through and be ready to take on the next place where it might, in fact, be easier; I don't feel like my faith is strong but I'll take that anyway and I'll keep holding on to God because - let's be honest - even though I'm not really sure about the meaning of life, I'm definitely not sure life has much meaning without God in it.
6. Why do men think it's acceptable to leer at a woman and make catcalls/stupid noises when she's walking past, even if she's really - and I mean really - not dressed to impress?
There's a falafel shop on the walk to/from school which I've never patronized because, frankly, the falafel do not look good and you'll know if you're a regular reader that the quality of the falafel I eat is rather important to me. Anyhow, I was walking home one Sunday from school - I'd gone in to pick up some marking, so was hardly dressed up - and I could see the young guy who works there giving me the eye from 10 metres away. Then as I walked past him, I heard him hiss at me, the Israeli/Palestinian man's noise of choice when a woman walks past and they want to fulfil as many gender stereotypes as they can (a bit like a builder going "Alright, darling?"). Incensed at being objectified in this way I turned around and gave him the nastiest look I could muster. Grrr.
And on that note, 6. b) Why do Israeli men think a girl standing by herself is just waiting to be chatted up?
There's a kitten that has appeared on a street near me in the last fortnight. It's black with a white smudge on its nose, it's very sweet and, unusually for kittens and cats here, it's very friendly. I'm a sucker for kittens (who isn't?) and so the first time it came miaowing over I found myself giving it a tin of tuna and it's become a regular thing; I buy a can on the way home from week, it sees me coming and races down the street, then purrs and struts in a delightful manner before I cave in and feed it. (I know, I'm a bleeding-heart idiot). I was performing this ritual last Friday when an old man walked past and started talking to me in Hebrew. To my delight I was able to understand and answer his first question; to my consternation he instantly invited me for 'coffee, shishah and a cigarette' at his place just round the corner. When I (politely) declined, he said "Oh no, not just today, any time!" It's possible he was just being friendly. It's equally possible he's a skeezy old man on the make. This sort of thing never happened to me back home. I love how forward Israelis are but let's face it, it's a double-edged sword.
Answers on a post-card please. That's it for now.
1. Why, why, why does the Hebrew letter vav (ו) have four different possible meanings?
Multi-talented, my ulpan teacher says, but still - when it's at the start of a word it's usually v, though if there are two of them then it's w. Same in the middle of the word. Sometimes it's o, sometimes it's u, sometimes it's whatever your best guess is. Come on!
2. Why do naughty children everywhere accuse you of picking on them when you tell them off, yet again, for talking over you constantly?
Today, for the first time since I started teaching at the Anglican School, a kid accused me of being racist because I told him off for talking over me and put his name, along with his two buddies, up on the board (classic teacher behaviour management strategy, name-on-the-board = possible detention). When I took umbrage at this statement - "Really, you want to accuse me of racism? Really? Are you sure about this? Because if so let's go to the headteacher's office right now." - he said he felt like I was always picking on him. I pointed out, as I have done many, many times before, that if he feels like I'm picking on him there's a reason, namely that he's always getting caught mid-conversation when he should be listening. I then gave one of my favourite responses to this sort of issue, inspired by a scene from The Shawshank Redemption where Andy Dufresne points out to a new inmate in Shawshank Prison that needs a new career; since he's always getting caught, he can't be a very good thief. "OK, if you feel like I'm picking on you, you have two possible avenues open to you. One is to stop talking all the time, then you won't get yelled at. The other is to get better at talking without getting caught."
I should note that this is the first time in 14 months I've had to say that to a kid, whereas in my last job accusations of this sort were a weekly occurrence. I still can't believe how well-behaved the kids at my new school are. Also, perhaps not really my 'new' school anymore.
3. Why do Israeli men insist on going hiking in nothing more than their underpants?
Now, don't get me wrong. I appreciate a man in his pants as much as the next girl, but in this as in all things context is king. I blogged recently about the shock we all felt when, after reaching the top of the cliff at Masada, we were confronted by the sight of a man in a Speedo who'd clearly hiked the same path. Imagine then my shock/confusion/amusement when I was greeted with a similar sight on a recent hike in the canyon at Wadi Qelt, which runs from En Prat near Jerusalem to Jericho, with some friends the other weekend. As so often happens on hikes over here we ran into a group of young soldiers out and about on a jolly and it being a clement day most of them had stripped down to their shorts; some of them were wearing flip flops yet still running through the canyon; a few of them had their guns along with them for good measure; they were all pretty darn young. And one of them was, totally unself-consciously, wearing nothing more than his (I have to say, somewhat clingy) underwear. Couldn't he have packed something more appropriate?
4. When will I stop missing sausages?
I love the food here. It's delicious. It's fresh. It's full of goodness and sunshine. But my goodness I miss eating sausages on a regular basis. Damien brought me two packs of Tesco Finest jumbo pork sausages and they went straight into the freezer (Damo, you are a hero). I defrosted a pack tonight and have just munched and lip-smacked my way through two of them for supper, with another two cooked ready for lunch tomorrow. Bacon I cope without, not least because Amos gets a supply of bacon from a Russian butcher somewhere in town that is decent enough. Sausages, on the other hand, are such a treat and eating them tonight (apologies if that sounds somewhat tragic) reminds me how much I miss them. Though I would imagine my cholesterol levels and my waistline are thanking me for eating so few of them these days. And obviously I don't miss them as much as, say, my godchildren.
N.B. The same question applies to Pieminister Pies, as does the same qualification involving cholesterol and my waistline (and my godchildren).
5. When does it become easier to find God in this city that is supposed to be one of the holiest in the world?
Really. I'm so, so, so grateful to my church which has really grounded me and helped me to connect with my faith again in a very real and positive way. But I still find it hard to walk that narrow path and am wondering when it will get easier. Rach said to me this week that I have a strong faith, so I'll make it through and be ready to take on the next place where it might, in fact, be easier; I don't feel like my faith is strong but I'll take that anyway and I'll keep holding on to God because - let's be honest - even though I'm not really sure about the meaning of life, I'm definitely not sure life has much meaning without God in it.
6. Why do men think it's acceptable to leer at a woman and make catcalls/stupid noises when she's walking past, even if she's really - and I mean really - not dressed to impress?
There's a falafel shop on the walk to/from school which I've never patronized because, frankly, the falafel do not look good and you'll know if you're a regular reader that the quality of the falafel I eat is rather important to me. Anyhow, I was walking home one Sunday from school - I'd gone in to pick up some marking, so was hardly dressed up - and I could see the young guy who works there giving me the eye from 10 metres away. Then as I walked past him, I heard him hiss at me, the Israeli/Palestinian man's noise of choice when a woman walks past and they want to fulfil as many gender stereotypes as they can (a bit like a builder going "Alright, darling?"). Incensed at being objectified in this way I turned around and gave him the nastiest look I could muster. Grrr.
And on that note, 6. b) Why do Israeli men think a girl standing by herself is just waiting to be chatted up?
There's a kitten that has appeared on a street near me in the last fortnight. It's black with a white smudge on its nose, it's very sweet and, unusually for kittens and cats here, it's very friendly. I'm a sucker for kittens (who isn't?) and so the first time it came miaowing over I found myself giving it a tin of tuna and it's become a regular thing; I buy a can on the way home from week, it sees me coming and races down the street, then purrs and struts in a delightful manner before I cave in and feed it. (I know, I'm a bleeding-heart idiot). I was performing this ritual last Friday when an old man walked past and started talking to me in Hebrew. To my delight I was able to understand and answer his first question; to my consternation he instantly invited me for 'coffee, shishah and a cigarette' at his place just round the corner. When I (politely) declined, he said "Oh no, not just today, any time!" It's possible he was just being friendly. It's equally possible he's a skeezy old man on the make. This sort of thing never happened to me back home. I love how forward Israelis are but let's face it, it's a double-edged sword.
Answers on a post-card please. That's it for now.
good stuff Anna,
ReplyDeleteI found myself getting used to differences back in my home city after being here for so long, http://britinjerusalem.com/2011/11/05/things-that-are-different-in-uk-after-living-in-israel/