This sounds silly, but I really miss New York lately.
Remember this? and this?
With Thanksgiving and even Christmas coming up, I’m beginning to actually miss ’tis season… Imagine that.
Is that what it is to make aliyah? To always miss home, whether I’m here or there?
…And now for something completely different:
At public lectures in the States, one would get shot down for using Q&A time for making comments and objections AT the speaker, as opposed to posing a question in front of the audience for the speaker to answer in a formal fashion.
At an Israeli public lecture, people don’t ask questions during Q&A time. They make comments. They argue with the speaker, they outspeak the speaker, they speak out of their own personal experience towards the speaker, as if the speaker’s experience, of which he is brought in to speak, can’t possibly prove his point enough.
The lesson learned: I don’t know which country is truly based on democracy and freedom of speech and expression, and which is based on respect out of history of torment.
A little something on Israeli university culture as opposed to what I’ve known (in relation to my academic culture shock in the last 2 weeks):
In the States, university was a hardcore 24/7 experience. I lived, ate, breathed college in dorm, lecture hall and frat party forms. As far as work, it was intense from freshmen year until I graduated. Playtime was around the clock, even when writing papers at 4 am and sitting in lecture halls, oggling my crush. I always had some kind of job to pay some of the bills, but for the most part, loans and parents were the #1 form of income - due to the fact that school was so universal, there was no time for a ‘real’ job, with ‘real’ wages.
In Israel, universita is something you go to fulfill a requirement in getting a BA or MA to get a job. It is not really a 24/7 experiece because the other half of your time is spent working as much as you can to pay all your bills. Faculty seems to understand this, and whether it is for that reason or the general laid-back quality of living in Israel, the workload is lighter (or maybe it seems lighter comparatively). Less emphasis on reading, which is mainly in English (that could be an explanation). Whereas I was writing 1-3 papers throughout the semester and completing a final at the end of each term, now I am (maybe) writing a paper and then (maybe) a final. Another explanation, and difference, is that courses here run for a whole year a lot of the time. They are once a week and stretching across the whole academic year instead of bulking up 4 or 5 courses in one semester and then starting all over again.
On the whole, in Israel, experience is valued much higher than university degrees, although those are still necessary on a CV. I think that intense experience, however, would beat out a degree if the choice was there for an employer. Israelis seem to have more experience prior to entering the workforce because of mandatory army service and the necessity to work for pocket money from a younger age.
The point is that Israelis are working to get that degree to get that higher paying job, but they are also working to eat and sleep with a shelter over their heads. I have a feeling it is similar for American grad students (as opposed to undergrad), but I wonder to what degree?
Note: I am mainly describing the liberal arts university experience. Obviously, specialty degrees and targeted programs are different and more intense. This is a summary of how I view my liberal arts experiences in both places.
my brother went to the huge 10th year memorial service in Kikar Rabin in Tel Aviv, 12.11.05 (pushed off because Clinton could only come now instead of the actual date, 4.11.05)
The two secrets2success I’ve been told about aliyah, have, unsurprisingly, to do with the manner and condition of the self-image.
The second:
My Jews & Conflict in the Modern Age professor gave me a lift home tonight. He’s originally from Chicago; he’s been here for over 25 years. Impeccable hebrew, by the way, aside from the fact that his class was terribly simplistic and boring.
Anyway, after a good half an hour of awkward on-again-off-again polite conversation and odd classical music, I went for why not and started expressing about my academic culture shock and my poor Hebrew self-image and so forth. I wasn’t sure if this older academic type would get it or care from the mouth of a 23-year-old olah chadasha (incidentally wearing a light pink sweatshirt, feeling juvenile at that moment).
He turned to me (while driving, so he really has been here for awhile): “You know what the secret to aliyah success here is? It’s accepting that you’re an immigrant. My kids - they are Israeli. Me and my wife - we know what we are, where we came from. We know we’re here now, and happy, especially watching our kids grow up here. My parents were immigrants. I am an immigrant. That’s just how it is. And then you’ll feel comfortable with yourself enough to just let go of it all.”
i arrived at class early.
my heart sank as i realized the teacher was 100% hard-ass. blonde hair tied back, tightly bunned. blond people scare me.
her thin drawn lips - her short-squat posture - were reminiscent of Israeli teachers in the past… enough to make me wince at the thought of speaking Hebrew in this class, ever.
first impression: bad.
then it got worse.
she called for 9 students to come to the middle of the class to be a part of a simulation.
all i could think was ‘don’t pick me, don’t pick me, don’t ruin this for me…’
i counted slowly as one by one 9 students went up… 9, without me.
they were simulating a negotiation, and debating back and forth.
then i heard it. my heart leapt. i’d know that accent anywhere.
…an anglo…
he was debating with the others in the simulation, patient with himself, confident, despite his accent, despite once in a while pausing to think and gather his words…
i couldn’t help but stare in awe. he was British. he was speaking up.
i walked up to him after class.
- hi. when did you get here?
- two days ago…
- and… and you felt ok participating like that?
- yeah, sure… you just gotta do it. didn’t i sound alright?
for the rest of the night, he was my hero.
and if he could do it, what should stop me?
…did it. taxied to the central bus station in 20 minutes, got to Bar Ilan in an hour, arrived at class early. made an Israeli friend in class. hung out with him during breaks. spoke Hebrew more than i ever did in a 4 hour period. sat through 2 Hebrew lectures. got all jists.
spoke up in class when everyone had to go around introducing themselves and what they studied in undergrad.
“ani elisheva, lamadati politica b’New York.”
“New York? matai ba’at?”
“aliti lefnay shana…”
everyone wants to be my friend because most the texts are in English. that’s ok.
new Israeli friend bought me a coffee.
“at rotza chazak?”
i figured, what the hell, why not. i’m hard-core now. i could taste the granuals between my teeth - Israeli coffee.
found a possible carpool on the bus.
“at ba’a b’sha’a ha’zot kol yom? rotze l’asot carpool?”
…and i’m an Israeli grad student.