Blessed

This post by Gila at My Shrapnel once again hits the nail on the head.

This past year, while working with my students, I often found it hard to believe what some of these teenagers had gone through in their short lives. It made me feel really lucky and a little bit spoiled about the fact that I feel like I've gone through some difficult times. When really, in comparison to a 14-year-old who has experienced traumatic physical, emotional and sexual abuse, my pains are nothing. I truly am blessed when I look at it that way, and my challenges have been for the best to help me be able to help others, to be a strong individual and to have the confidence to know that I can make it through difficult situations.

And the other point Gila brings up - whether all these things are fair. Well, as my parents often told me while I was growing up - life isn't fair. If you add God to the equation and try to rationalize and put things in terms of the bigger picture, maybe some people can walk away with peace of mind. I can't really. I know I can't and never will understand. The horrible things that some people go through just are not fair. And I guess I have to stop wanting it to be.

I've heard the phrase that goes something to the effect of "if you don't expect much, you won't get disappointed." I'm not completely in line with that thinking, but I do believe that if you don't expect to have all the bells and whistles and breaks and ease of your neighbor, maybe you can feel better about your own lot. If you don't try to compare and you just work your hardest to get through what you are thrown, then you can take it one day at a time. It's impossible to compare, because how do you assign relative value to the assets and gifts, or challenges and frustrations, that one person has over another?

I think what it all boils down to is attitude. There is not a whole lot else you have control over. But you can choose to see things as a gift and lucky and a blessing. Or you can choose to see the same things as a burden and a curse. That's your choice. And I think that makes a huge difference.

Almost Done!

I had my final session of one of my classes last night. All I have left is class on Monday and the final day at my internship on Tuesday and then I will have officially completely all my requirements for my Master's degree. Which is crazy. At the same time, it seems to have been forever and no time at all.

We celebrated in class last night. This particular class has been a year-long course, accompanying my internship. So I've seen the same faces weekly since September. We have shared challenges and accomplishments.

As I looked around at my classmates, some of whom I knew even before this year, I realized that I didn't really know any of them well. I don't have any of their phone numbers. I've never hung out with any of them outside of school. A couple of them are Facebook friends, but that's it. I feel very much like an outsider there.

This is in large part because my life is very different from most of the other students in my class. The majority of them don't work and came to the program straight from undergrad. It took most of them the typical two years to finish the program, following the class curriculum, while it took me three years, attending part-time.

So I left class last night with mixed feelings. I'm very proud at having finished my program, and having finished successfully. I have learned and grown and I think I have done a good job. I have come to the conclusion that I have picked the right field for myself, which is a huge thing. But in some small way I feel like I have failed because I have not forged friendships with my classmates. I guess it just tints my feelings of accomplishment a little bit.

In general, I am proud of myself. Really, really proud. I know that this degree was about pursuing a career that I would really feel is meaningful and that will allow me to make a difference. And I have accomplished that goal. And if not with my classmates, then I will celebrate with my friends and co-workers, who have been the ones who I have made those connections with over the past three years.

Israel is 60!

Israel is officially a 60 year old nation today, and I think that's something to celebrate.

One Park

I went for a walk in the park the other day, since the weather was so beautiful. My neighborhood has a nice, sprawling park with a little pond in the middle that is often inhabited by ducks. Because it was such a beautiful day, there were tons of people out enjoying spring.

I walked through the park, admiring the trees and flowers and animals that were all around. And I people watched.

I saw tons of families with kids enjoying the park. I saw friends and couples walking. I saw people with their pets. But something really struck me about what I saw.

As I walked into the entrance to the park, there were lots of Orthodox families milling around. Men with their black hats and suits. Women in long skirts and long sleeves. Little boys with yarmulkes and peyos. Little girls with dresses and knee socks. Babies in carriages. Picnics, fishing, playing, rollerblading. Everyone is on break for Pesach, and thoroughly enjoying themselves.

I continued walking through the park and the population became more tan. Tons of Hispanic families milling around. A soccer game with very impressive players had ensued. Little boys running and playing in shorts and T-shirts. Little girls running and swinging. Babies in carriages. Picnics, fishing, playing, rollerblading. Everyone is on Spring Break and thoroughly enjoying themselves.

One park. The same activities. The big difference was dress code (and language). No interacting. No mixing. One park.

I thought a lot about it as I was walking home. I kinda understand it. Kinda. But it makes me sad.

Highs and Lows

It amazes me how, in a few hours, I can see such a diversity of experiences from the student body that I am interacting with at my internship. Today has to be a record for highs and lows.

I walked in the door today and was quickly whisked off to help conduct interviews with the scholarship committee of the school. I sat in on approximately 12 interviews of the top 20% of the graduating class, all college-bound, all with dreams, and all who had worked incredibly hard to get where they were. These students are not headed to Yale or Harvard. Many of them are not documented, so all they can hope for is a community college. And probably more than half have been in America less than three or four years. But they have all worked so hard to try to have a future for themselves.

We interviewed a bunch of students who were going for nursing degrees, a student who wants to be a pastry chef, a student who composed a poem on the spot during the interview (he was awesome!) and students wanting to be teachers. None of them can afford college on their own, but they are going after their dreams regardless.

During the interviews, the previous day was mentioned a few times. Apparently, over the weekend there had been some incidents in the community that had caused some strife. Several fights had broken out, with non-students being let in the building. Concern was expressed about security; several students stated they didn't feel very safe. It was a little scary.

After the interview, I headed upstairs to see my one-on-one students. I got word that one of the students I had seen in the fall had just dropped out of school because she's pregnant. I hate to say that I wasn't incredibly surprised. My other students are dealing with a host of issues relating to past abuse and major anger and violence problems. Their grades are not good. One has so many absences it is questionable whether she will get credit this year. Her brother is still in high school at 19 years old. Another brother dropped out.

Such highs and lows in one building. In one day.

Self-Control

There are a lot of things in life that I don't have control over. Who comes in and out of my life. A lot of the details and events that happen.

What I do have control over is my response to the situations that I have no control over. I can break down and cry. I can scream and yell. I can take out my frustrations on others.

Or I can be disappointed but still hold my head high. Keep my dignity and my pride. Try to not let it affect me in the long run.

I try to do the latter. It's not always easy, but I try.

Through an Outsider's Lens

About a month ago, a women who I work with at my internship told me that she really wanted to go to a Jewish synagogue. She was just fascinated by the idea of it and really wanted to experience it. So, I told her that she could come with me the next time I decided to attend. She was ecstatic.

After making this offer, I started pondering. First of all, she was not going to understand a word of what was said. This friend of mine isn't even a native English speaker - her first language is Spanish. And at the synagogue I go to, even the rabbi's "English" is interspersed with so much Hebrew and Yiddish that I have trouble following along sometimes. And that's the sermon! The rest of the service is all in Hebrew - certainly my friend would be bored out of her mind and completely lost if she went to services with me.

Also, the separation of men and women - what would she think of that? Would she be upset by having to sit in the back half of the synagogue, behind the men? Luckily, my synagogue at least has a mechitzah (partition) that the women can see through, but still, I would think it would be confusing to someone who is not used to it.

I explained all these reservations to her, but she was adamant; she wanted to experience it. She's a very spiritual, religious woman in her faith, she thinks Jews are God's Chosen People and she wanted to see how we worshiped. Nothing more to it than that. So I told her that she could come.

In the week leading up to her joining me, she was having dreams about what it would be like. She was SO excited. She was telling everyone about it and just could not contain her enthusiasm. I tried to tell her not to get too excited, that it probably was not going to be like in her dreams, and she assured me that she knew that, that she was just so looking forward to it.

She quizzed me on what to wear so that she was modest enough, whether she needed to cover her hair, whether she should carry her purse. Friday afternoon, when I spoke to her to tell her exactly where to go, she asked if she could bring relatives. I explained to her that she could, but that if she brought any men, they would not be able to sit with us.

Saturday morning, I walk up to my synagogue, and there are four people standing in front waiting for me, very excited. My friend, her sister and both of their husbands are there to attend the service. Her sister and brother-in-law had driven in from Connecticut for the occasion! And it turned out that her brother-in-law was actually beginning to learn Hebrew, because it's the Holy language.

My first obstacle was that the men didn't have yarmulkes to wear. Apparently, my synagogue doesn't have any extras lying around either, so I quickly ran to a friend who lives very close by to borrow some. After that, we went into the sanctuary, my friend and her sister with me, their husbands to the men's side to fend for themselves.

Throughout the service, I gave short explanations to my friend, who was absolutely mesmerized. I have to admit, my synagogue is a beautiful place, with the stained glass windows and a majestic ark. She loved the singing and was touched at the end when the children were leading the closing songs.

Afterwards, we went upstairs to the kiddush where my friend and her sister were literally in tears describing how special they felt the experience was. They were blown away by the reverence and service shown by the congregants. My friend said she was just so moved by the Torah reading and she had not wanted to let go of the copy of the Chumash that I had given her. She loved the fact that the children were there participating as well and the fact that these traditions had been kept alive for so many years and years.

I told her how nice it was to get an outsider's perspective, because I take it for granted. To have someone else comment on how special the experience was made me try to look at it through those lenses.

I have to say that I was very pleased by how friendly everyone was to my friends. Many people walked up and introduced themselves and wished them a good Shabbos. I was very glad that it was such a positive experience.