Education in Sderot

The Train is Flying Off the Cliff

After nearly two years of looking for a job, sending resumes, going to inteviews and doing demonstration lessons, I have finally gotten to work for money. As a substitute teacher. Teaching English. My specialty.

I am not elated.

In my first class, a boy who was late for tefilla sits in the front desk, tefillin on his head and arm, wrapped in a talit, and uttering the final passages of Shachrit. When he is finished some ten minutes later, he immediately goes outside the classroom, and meanders back in once or twice during the rest of the hour. Later I learn that this is the boy's daily modus operandus.

At least he goes outside the class. Others come into the class shouting, and the noise level never subsides for more than a few seconds. They sit in desks toward the back and play cards or they play with their cell phones. They bring sandwiches and drinks and toys, and are completely oblivious to the fact that a teacher is in the class with them. Nor would it help much if they did notice. They show more respect for cartoon mice than they do for teachers, no less a substitute teacher.

Sderot's schools are probably not much different from others. When I visited a high school in Jerusalem, I watched an English teacher use the majority of her time trying to discipline students. It was a very nice high school with a modern building and materials for teaching and learning, which is much different from what we find in Sderot. Yet the teachers and students in the Jerusalem school made no better use of time than their counterparts in Sderot.

The security guard at the school told me, "In Israel, there is no education."

He is not the first person to say this. I guess it took a couple days of entering littered classrooms, being shouted at by students, breaking up fights - or trying to, and watching all my preparations getting trashed before I fully understood what the security guard meant.

The teaching methods fit the curriculum. And the curriculum fits the attitude of whoever devised this system. In teaching English, for example, there is no emphasis on acquiring the language. The students are trained from early on that the goal is to pass a national test, not learn anything useful, Their textbooks are designed with this objective in mind. Hence teachers are discouraged from actual teaching, and follow the textbooks when they can, when they are not having to deal with discipline.

The lack of self-respect, not to mention lack of respect for other people, is symptomatic of a deeper problem in Israel. When so many people and national leaders in Israel are willing to relinquish land to the Palestinian leaders under the pretense of peace, it is no wonder that the youth see no future here. Why shouldn't they shout at teachers, and completely disregard all authority? When Israel's leaders don't value the students' futures, why should the students respect them?

The teachers also seem resigned to the notion that "There is nothing we can do about it." Perhaps it is safer for teachers who want to keep their jobs to believe this. But in the long-run, it is harming Israel. The problems in the schools have been going on for decades. These same youth who trash handouts and bring food to class today are going to be leaders in the near future. I used to believe it was the teachers' responsibility to guide the youth toward productive careers. In fact I still believe that. There is a system in place which interferes drastically with that responsibility.

The great shame is that there is so much potential going to waste. The schools are full of unguided students, using time only to shout and yell, and interrupt, and play childish games. This they do instead of channeling their energies toward creative outlets. The obstruction to education is now like a machine perpetuating itself forward It is like the students and the city are all on a train, flying over a cliff, and the teachers are greasing the wheels. I

Leaves of Hope

by Jerry Waxman

Sometimes it seems Sderot has no life.

I was walking around the other day, just observing things. I saw three dogs playing on a lawn and went closer to watch. Why?

Seeing dogs play is a rare thing, believe it or not. Most dogs in Sderot wander around kind of sad-like. And they do not trust people. They are uncommonly afraid of people. . . . Strange.

One of the dogs I was watching saw me and one began to bark, to protect his territory, I guess. All three dogs pranced off to another field. They wanted nothing to do with humans. And I couldn’t blame them.

I continued on and walked in to a supermarket.

When you walk in, there is always at least one security guard, often two, at the entrance. They are pleasant enough for having to stand there all day. They say nothing to me, but they know some of the Russian speaking customers and greet them.

The faces of the cashiers is discouraging. Blank stares, almost, as they go through routines. Even in conversations they have with people they know, there is little sign of emotion of any kind; just blank, serious stares as they process each customer, slowly and machine-like.

My guess is they don’t trust humans any more than the dogs.

The conversations you do hear in the supermarket often sound like arguments, almost like fights. Whether it is between two customers or between two employees or between an employee and a customer, it always seems to come up short of swinging fists.

I saw all this when I was nursing a melancholy mood. The dogs were supposed to put me in a better mood, but they failed.

Yet I remember times when I first came to Sderot, that I saw things differently. My mood was upbeat and it seemed like everyone else’s was, too.

So in reality, Sderot is neither a happy place or a desparate place. It just depends on what your mood is.

My wanderings brought me to a gymnasium near my house. Two men sat at the top of some stairs and explained to me what this facility was. Lying next to one of the men was a big furry dog that looked like a lion. No matter what I did to try to cheer that dog up, it remained aloof. Typical scared-of-humans dog.

I asked why all the dogs are afraid of us. The dog’s owner told me it was because of the kassams. The dogs are very afraid of them. He said the dogs know when they are coming before people know. And they are stressed out.

The same dog owner told me he once had 5 dogs, but two of them died of fear.

You know, it’s been months since there were regular rocket attacks on Sderot. Months and months of quiet. I have been eager to NOT define Sderot by its victim-hood. But the effects of the kassams keep coming back.

The dogs are stricken. And the people must be, too. Maybe it’s a major source of stress for all these people you see in the supermarkets and elsewhere with few smiles and quick grievances.

When I came to Sderot, I held ideals of living in a town of heroes who have given the enemy the collective finger, saying, “We ain’t leaving!”

But the more I see the faces of Sderot, the more I see people who have stayed in Sderot only because they have nowhere else to go.

Where are the ideals? Where is the courage – - the passion to protect our homeland?

I think I found it.

In the back of my apartment, I noticed something remarkable. Leaves.
Leaves were coming up in a garden I had once designed and built. They were watermelon leaves.

I had put the seeds of watermelons in the back yard months ago and forgot about it. There has been no rain for months, so how ever the seeds got the idea to grow is a mystery.

There they were, watermelon leaves that had braved the dry elements, the hard soil, the stones and sand and gravel, and broke through for sunlight.

Nobody can say for sure if these watermelon plants will succeed. There are insects and cats running around. Sometimes there are dogs and humans running around. Nevertheless, the watermelon leaves do not give up. And they’re not going to leave because of fear or stress.

Watermelons of Hope

That is a message of hope. If the leaves of a watermelon plant can brave eight inches of dry soil, and then continue to grow with no help from anyone, not even water, shouldn’t the people of Sderot be able to overcome their fears and apprehensions, too.

Maybe they will. And maybe we can help the dogs, too.

Meanwhile it would be good to get a little rain. But that’s another issue.

“Project “770″

Making life a little better all the way around.

When Anger Doesn’t Work: Part 2

by Jerry Waxman

To recap: There was a day like any other day that was meant to go well. 1)I was to go to a school and get a job. 2)I was to settle things with the rav who owns the kollel where I have been working – and that settlement would mean my getting paid in some way for work I’ve done, and an agreement on what I’d be doing in the future. 3) I was to get started on a project with my Bnei Menashe friends. Everything was supposed to go right.

While the early morning looked promising, the less early morning was a reminder of everything I needed to get away from. There was constant banging and buzzing from construction in neighbors’ rooms. There was a stench coming from an outdoor sewage problem. And my roommate – with his brand of hygiene – was ever-present.

In mid-morning I went to the school, and the security guard told me to come back at 3:30 pm. [End of Recap]

In the interest of realism, I think I’ll just list everything that happened, and save the commentary for the end.

After walking away from the school, I called the rav of the kollel and asked if I could meet with him then. The rav was too busy and told me to come to him at 2:00.

By coincidence, Pe-er, my Bnei Menashe friend called me. He wanted me to check some problem he was having with his computer. I wanted to talk with him about a project I had in mind. We agreed to meet at the shuk in about an hour.

I went to the shuk, and didn’t see Pe-er. Prices at the shuk seemed higher than last week, but I found a deal on some fruit. And took it home. While at the shuk, I talked with a man selling bread. I asked him if he had something that tasted bad for my friend. He laughed, and it was the second time that day that I noticed I was letting a roommate occupy my thinking – a sign of deep resentment and frustration.

Pe-er called while I was at home, and by coincidence he was right outside. So we walked to his place, about 2 km away.

I talked with Pe-er about the project I had in mind. He said it sounded good, but he didn’t seem to have any energy to put into it. I spent some time on his computer trying to figure out a problem with Yahoo. In the end I was not able to help him resolve the problem.

Results: All that walking, and all that time spent on the computer, and nothing accomplished.

Went to the rav at 2:00 pm. As usual, I started off with an idea I had for bringing money to the kollel while giving some Bnei Menashe folks a chance to work and learn and make money also. Now the rav had just spent some 20 minutes yelling at someone. So when he laughed when I proposed the Bnei Menashe project – well, I guess it took his mind off whatever he was yelling about a few moments before.

End results with the rav: He said he’d get a caravan for me to live in on the grounds of the kollel. Fast forward to the next day – he did nothing about getting a caravan. And his son did nothing about helping me move a refrigerator and other heavy things into the kollel. I decided to fire them both the same day. But of course I haven’t told them.

After seeing the rav, I went to the school. I told the secretary that I wanted to see the director. She took my resume and said I didn’t need to see the director. She gave my resume to someone else — who might call me. . . .

End results of the day: Frustration. ready to jump out of planes.

Well, there is one more saga to get to. This one gets exciting. Don’t miss it.