Views on the News 3.7.21 - All Round Denial

Three news items this week made me think about facing the truth and how it's often easier to pin the blame on something other than the whole truth. 

Firstly, Canadians pulling down the statues of Queen Victoria and Queen Elizabeth II in protest because the Catholic Church kidnapped native Canadian children, now known as First Nation, and put them into Catholic schools where they made them speak only English and cut off all ties with their families and traditions. As if this wasn't bad enough, mass graves of a total of 1000 First Nation children have been found in the vicinity of these school "orphanages".  Which would suggest that there are many more as yet undiscovered graves.

I understand the anger. I get it that it was colonialsim that invaded Canada, and the whole of the Americas, and tried to eradicate the First Nation completely.

The treatment of the First Nation from the 19th Century right up until the 1970s was atrocious. The mass graves of children give absolute proof of the racist oppression. I understand the anger. I would be angry. I also understand that anger being vented on colonialism. I don't really care that the statues of the two queens were toppled and destroyed, despite the fact that neither queen is, was, nor ever has been Catholic. 

Agreed that Catholism came to Canada with the colonists, even if it did come largely with the French. Seriously, topple away at any symbol of colonialism if it makes you feel better. But don't deny the fact that the people who actually carried out these horrific murders of First Nation children, were the near ancestors of many present day, white Canadians and not Queen Elizabeth in the UK.  

About the unnamed idiot who caused mass injuries on the Tour de France by stepping out in front of the cyclists to hold up a greeting sign and have it be broadcast on television. 

The next day it was announced that she'd fled the scene, was being hunted down by the police, and could face up to a year in jail. With such wide media coverage, it was only amatter of time until she was found. So after a couple of days in hiding, she did the only thing left to do and turned herself in to the local police. 

The woman is devastated, ashamed, and deeply sorry. Obviously. It was a stupid thng to do and she made a massive, humiliating for her, expensive and potentially life threatening mistake. I read all this in the newspaper and it seems to be an accurate description of the event. So far so acceptable. 

But then, her her lawyer said, "it took her a couple of days to realise what had happened as a result of her action." Rubbish! She realised instantly what she had done, which is why she fled the scene and tried to hide. If you're truly sorry then own up to all of it. Don't try to mitigate your actions by lying about what came next. Either you're sorry for all of it or you claim that some of your behaviour wasn't your fault. By wriggling out of some of it in this way, you have given up any bit of respect you could have retained for owning the mistake and repenting. (Btw, while a year in jail is not helpful imo, a few hundred hours of community service would go a long way.)

And finally, Harry. Whilst in the UK to unveil the statue of his mother, he appeared at a charity event for children. (was this an official Royal visit? I hope not.) He seemed to be his old jolly self and made every effort to show the cameras how good he still is at these sorts of public duties. I couldn't help wondering if he really wanted to be there. Was he just grinning and bearing it because that's the job? 

At the unveiling itself, after they'd pulled away the covering, Harry walked towards William with open arms and a big smile, as if he wanted a big hug between brothers to show the world they have reconciled. William wasn't playing into that manipulitive move. He was not going to be used for Harry's back-in-the-fold agenda. 

Here's the thing. I hope William and Harry, and Charles, make up. I hope they are able to move forward with love and forgiveness because families are precious. However, the British people don't owe Harry anything. We do not want him to represent us in any way, shape or form. He should live in harmony with his family, but he resigned as a working Royal. If he thinks he can undo the damage he has done by saying by-gones but not sorry, he's in big denial. And even if he is sorry... too late mate. 

The irony is that Harry's only qualification is being good at mixing with the public in a warm and engaging way. As long as he read the speeches written for him, he was perfect for the job of being a Royal. He gave up the one thing he could do well with no viable plan B. 

Decent Pyjamas and Slip-on Shoes, Just in Case

Yesterday evening the sirens sounded over Jerusalem. I'm not going into the politics of who, what or why - this post is purely about our responses. 

I, along with all my neighbours, emerged onto the balcony where we chatted about what could possibly be happening. Was it a drill? A mistake? Who knows? 

Suddenly we heard the booms of exploding missiles and we realized that this wasn't a drill or a mistake. "OMG!" We dashed for cover. I ran into the apartment and called out, "DD down to the shelter, NOW!" DD came racing out of  her bedroom as I fumbled with the lock on the front door. 

Of course once the Iron Domes had intercepted and exploded the missiles before they made impact, it was all over and the sirens stopped before I'd even got the front door open. 

Here in Jerusalem we're out of the habit of thinking about the sirens except for announcing the beginning of Shabbat (when they are much quieter), minutes of silence on memorial days, drills, and the occasional error. 

Back in the days of the second intifada, now almost 20 years ago, even a door slamming would make me jump with fright. When I'm visiting my friends on their kibbutz near the border with Gaza, I know that a siren means: Run for cover! I expect it. They live with it. 

So there we were, with seven rockets fired on Jerusalem, speeding through the skies in our direction, all standing on our balconies to chat about the warning sirens. It reminded me of one of Rudyard Kipling's Epitaphs of the War - The Beginner.

Afterwards we laughed at ourselves but it wasn't funny. How many wars and attacks have we lived through and yet we behaved like beginners? It was a lesson in complacency. Next time we hear sirens we run to the bomb shelter and ask questions later. 

Last night DD and I both wore decent pyjamas and put easy to slip on shoes by our beds. 

the beginner 

On the first hour of my first day 

    In the front trench I fell. 

(Children in boxes at a play

    Stand up to watch it well.) 

Goodbye Mr Chips

This week I have individual zoom meetings with all my teacher-training students on one course. They need to read an academic article about Classroom Management and tell me about it in English, which is their second or sometimes third or even fourth language (but mostly second). 

The article offers a number of tools for creating trust with the class, promoting a good atmosphere, and motvating the pupils. It's a nice article. 

So I'm discussing classroom management with a twenty year old student teacher, and she tells me how films can show good teaching and you can learn a lot from them. She can't remember the name of the film, but she wants to tell me about a great teacher who inspired the students and there is a film about how it was done.

"Dead Poets' Society?" The student looks at me blankly. Of course, it's way before her time (1989). I'm laughing to myself inside because before I thought of  Dead Poets' Society, I really wanted to say, "Good Bye Mr Chips." (1939 - before my time, 1969 - my favourite, and 2002 which I'd forgotten about and anyway, wasn't as good as the 1969 version.)

I googled it later, and the student was thinking of Freedom Writers (2007). I've not seen this film but I want to. I think back to other inspiring screen teachers of my youth - To Sir With Love springs to mind. I'd like to show it to my students but it would be wasted on them because times have changed so much. Or would it? 

All these films have the same principles at heart. I gave my students an academic article written in 2019, that basically says what we all know about good teachers from watching films about good teachers. (And maybe from once being pupils ourselves.) I don 't remember any of the names of the authors of the inspiring articles I set for this course, but last year I did want to be like Rita, the Swedish teacher from the Netflix series (but without so much sex and no smoking).

In the age of Google translate, even the EFL powers that be, are turning away from reading comprehension and towards communication. This past year on zoom opened up a whole new way of teaching. When digital replaced print it was easier and much more fun to use video than it was to look at texts. 

However, there's no denying that the personal connection was missing. It was great to return to my primary school last week and enjoy actually being with the pupils. With residual capsules (or bubbles, or pods, or whatever you want to call the smaller class groups) I don't actually have a classroom with a computer screen. So I try to be elements of Mr Chips, and Sidney Poitier, and Robin Williams, and Rita (without the sex and cigarettes), albeit adjusted for 3rd to 6th graders. 

Academia is considered dumbed down if we watch it rather than read it. But only by old school academics who remember screen time as purely recreational. The screen generation has no patience for all the reading we had to do. Why should they when a you can find a personal teacher on You Tube to show and tell you everything? 

So our students and pupils watch role model teachers, teaching in films, when traditional teaching is almost obsolete. As xyz (Einstein?) said, "intelligence is not knowing the answers, it's knowing where to look for them." And where to look for the answers is more and more on a screen rather than in the library - which actually looks more and more like a computer room than a library. 

But maybe it's not good bye Mr Chips after all. The methods have changed but the important characteristices of a good teacher are the same - trust, respect, listening, nurturing, the journey over the grades, leaving your ego at the door, etc...

The irony is that even Mr Chips emerged from the the original print by James Hilton (1934) and had far greater success on the screen. 

Overheard on the Bus - Holocaust Remembrance Day

Tonight and tomorrow is Holocaust Remembrance Day in Israel and in the Jewish world. I lit my candle and now I'm going to tell you a story I overheard on the bus from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem in about 1990. I can't be sure of the year but the lady who told the story was about 55 years old so that would fit with her being born in about 1935. My dates are approximate but my memory is clear. The bus was crowded. I had a seat and she was standing next to me in the isle, talking to another woman. She was slim, with wavy black hair layered to her shoulders, and spoke with a New York accent. This is the story she told her friend.

"I was born in Germany. I was one of three. We were triplets. We came early as multiple births often do, and we were very small. After a week or so they sent my mother home to recuperate and kept us three baby girls in the hospital to grow stronger. Our father visited us every day after work. 

One day a nurse took my father aside and urged him to take us home immediately. The situation for the Jews was already compromised and he understood enough to take her words seriously. He had come straight from work so he had no way to take all three of us home on the bus without a bassinet or any way of carrying us. He could only manage one baby, and he took me. 

The next morning my father went back to the hospital with a bassinet to collect his other two daughters. It was too late, they were gone. The head of hospital told him that they had died in the night. There were no bodies and no further information could be dragged out of any of the staff. 

Soon after that we moved to New York. My two younger brothers and I always knew that I was one of triplets but my mother was always adamant that the other two had died. She couldn't cope with any other scenario. My father never contradicted her but we knew he believed otherwise. 

I became an art teacher. Many years later I was teaching in a high school in New York when a college student came to do her training placement with me. One day she told me that her college supervisor would be coming in to observe her lesson. We told the class and we waited to start until the supervisor arrived. 

The classroom door opened and another member of staff brought the supervisor in. Everyone in the room gasped. All the kids could see it. The supervisor was my identical double. And she was wearing an enormous cross around her neck. All the kids knew that I am Jewish. When she saw me she went white, but she sat through the lesson and then quickly left. She didn't speak to me afterwards, which is very unusual, and I never saw her again. But I know she was my sister and that somewhere out there there's another one of us."

I was eavesdropping so I couldn't ask any questions. Luckily the friend asked what I too wanted to know. "Didn't you try to find her?"

"No never. I discussed it with my brothers and we decided not to even tell my parents. My mother had lived all her life insisting that two of her daughters had died. What would it do to her to have to face a different truth now? And the woman with the big cross around her neck - who knows what she has been through? Who knows what kind of life she had? I was the lucky one who got to grow up with our parents. It wasn't up to me turn her life upside down. She knew where to find me if she wanted to. She never did."

This is the first time I've told this story overheard on a bus in Israel more than 30 years ago. The lady would be about 85 now if she's still alive. It's an incredible story but not unusual for Israel or in the Jewish world. As time goes on we hear these incredible stories less and less. In another generation they will be second-hand stories. I am the generation who heard directly from the people who survived. We must continue to tell the stories. 

Achieve anything in a month.

I didn't make it up. I think it was an author who wrote that her mother used to say that you can achieve anything in a month. I'd like to think it's true so I decided to test it during April. Obviously it says 'anything', not 'everything' so I had to choose my anything. 

I would've liked to have chosen 'learn to play the piano (again)', or, 'improve my Hebrew', or even, 'write the first draft of a novel'. But I know myself and I wouldn't be able to concentrate on a big project outside of work whilst there are loose ends in my life. By this I mean smaller projects that I've been ignoring. They sit on my shoulders, gently taunting and generally hindering my concentration. So during April I'm going to tie up all the loose ends.

April 1st - That side table.

I picked up this table from next to the dumpster on the corner. I've never taken anything from the dumpster before but I've been watching You Tube videos about people who restore furniture from thrift stores and I fancied a go. I brought the table upstairs and there it sat for months with its horrible blue legs and formica top. On Thursday I finally did something with it. 

I had an old tin of primer in the cupboard under the sink. I think it was from when the decorator painted my front door which is laminated steel. I know you need primer to paint over formica so I was half set.

For paint I raided my daughter's craft box and found some white, in liquid form that looked like it would do the job. It didn't look quite enough so I mixed it with the black to make grey. But that didn't look enough either so I mixed in the red to make an aubergine colour. Not what I would have chosen in a paint shop, but better than the horrible blue and formica. 

I primed and then I painted. I should've used a gloss paint, or finished off with a laquer and maybe some beeswax.... I'm making this up from what I've seen on the telly. Bottom line, I didn't spend anything on this project and thus, the top, whilst no longer looking like formica, did look a little dull. And then I found two place mats from Kakadu that fit perfectly on the top.

Voila, one loose end done and dusted. 

April 2nd - Those empty glass jars. 

A friend opened my food cupboard a few weeks ago and burst out laughing. She too had a whole shelf of empty glass jars saved from coffee, jam, pasta sauce, etc... And like me, she had no idea why she was saving them or what she was going to do with them. 

I do use old coffee jars for storing dry goods like rice, barley, couscous, salt, sugar, and oatmeal. One small jar is always in the fridge with homemade salad dressing. In previous years I've decorated jars and filled them with sweets or nuts for Mishloach Manot on Purim. All this does not excuse about 30 glass jars and counting, sitting idle in the cupboard. 

Today I used up all the leftover vegetables in the fridge and some from the freezer to make an enormous batch of soup. I filled seven jars to go in the freezer. Then I made another batch of soup and filled six more jars. One jar didn't have a lid so that was chucked out, and one jar was used for the leftover paint from the table (thereby creating another loose end as I've nothing else to paint). 

That's 15 jars cleared from the cupboard. The rest are sweet little jars that I will have to find a use for because I can't bear to throw them out. 

Nine other loose ends for April.

Editing and backing up the Midlife Singlemum blog.

Editing my digital photos which were done in December but need updating.

Making another photo album for myself as the one I made in December was for DD. 

Decluttering paperwork which is loosely filed but needs tidying up. 

Taking loads of decluttered stuff to the second-hand shop. 

Decluttering and organising my computer files. 

Doing my tax returns for 2020 as I've finally collected all the relevant forms.

Decluttering my phone, especially the phone contacts. 

Decluttering and organising my emails.

It's a challenge, but it wouldn't be a test if it weren't a challenge.

Views on the News 5.3.21

Five Jews, six opinions. 

I read the news that interests me. Even the news I engage with, has intricacies way above my attention span and responsibility. However, everyone is entitled to my opinion and I welcome yours in the comments below (which will be moderated). 

1. Do we trust Joe Biden?

I'm going to be brave here and say that I honestly didn't care about the results of the US elections. All my friends in the US, Israel, and in the UK were congratulating each other and breathing a huge sigh of communal relief when Trump lost. He wasn't very eloquent and often sounded like a bumbling idiot. There were also serious aspersions about his character and some very worrying accusations. 

On the other hand, I'm sitting in the Middle East where four more Arab countries have made peace agreements with Israel, to add to the cold peace we already have with Jordan and Egypt. This is the nearest we have been to peace in the Middle East since, well since ever. 

Meanwhile there are reports about Biden's cognitive health which, I admit could all be propoganda from the opposition - I wouldn't know. I do know that the first international action he's taken in office is to bomb Syria. At least Trump kept America out of any wars for four years.  

2. The Meghan Markle Debarkle (mispelling intended).

Enough has been said across the board about Harry and Meghan, the as yet unseen Oprah interview, the accusations of bullying, the strangely fluid definition of words such as privacy, compassion, service, and victimhood. I am left wondering only one thing. How did a woman with such privilege, wealth, beauty, connections, and eloquence (you have to admit that she makes a very impressive word salad), and with aspirations to follow her late mother-in-law's dream of being the Princess of People's Hearts, turn herself into one of the most hated women in the world in the space of three and half years (since the engagement)? There has to be some serious delusion and inability to understand human nature to pull this off. 

3. Brexit Turned Out Handy. 

Whether you were Remain or Brexit before 2021, you have to admit that the UK's independent political status has behoved it regarding the speedy and efficient vaccination of its citizens. Whilst Europe is mired in delays, misinformation, and bureaucracy, the UK is well on the way to being optimally vaccinated with a plan to be back to normal (within it's borders) by the summer.  

4. Define Ethnicity.

A great debate broke loose in the UK last week as to whether Jews are an ethnic minority or not. Imo, ethnicity cannot be accurately defined in a way appropriate to all minorities. There are so many questions. The main one being whether ethnicity is about culture or biology. 

You can convert to Judaism but you can't convert to being Black. Are all Black people of one ethnic group anyway? Are the Pygmies of the Congo Basin the same ethnicity as the Masai of Kenya and Tanzania? That seems a bit racist to me as they are only grouped together is because of skin colour. And yet all people of European descent are called White when, for example, the swarthy Greek bares no resemblence in skin colour to the red-headed (and often pastey skinned) Celt. And what does Asian mean when it covers everyone from China, through India, to Arabia? 

So is it a cultural definition, including religion and/or way of life? What difference what God you believe in, if any? Growing up in London, I had more culture in common with my Indian and Black classmates than I woud have had with rural sheep farmers in Yorkshire. Or, with the few Jews left in places like India, Afghanistan and Morroco. 

I understand that ethnic intelligence is designed to help minority groups by providing for their needs in the places they live, and also to guard against discrimination. However, maybe we should stop labeling people according to race or ethnicity and just ask, when it's appropriate, which cultural groups they affiliate with. This would be a matter of choice, open to more than one option, and fluid.

 

Pancake Day

There is sliced banana, a shmear of Nutella,
and small shavings of vanilla ice-cream
between these two pancakes. 

Today was Shrove Tuesday, also called Pancake Day in the UK. Spiritually speaking it's the day before Ash Wednesday - the first day of Lent. So what's Lent? It's 40 days of solemn reflection when Christians abstain from certain foods, festivities and celebrations. It is supposed to replicate Jesus' sojourn for 40 days in the desert before his ultimate sacrifice (and resurrection). And then they have a massive celebration for Easter. 

Nothing to do with me, right? Wrong. First of all I grew up in England and Pancake Day meant pancakes for tea in the same way as Guy Fawkes meant Bonfire Night and fireworks. But I like to go deeper with religious traditions as everything always leads back in some way to pre-religion and the agricultural year. I'm all about finding the things that bind us, rather than what makes us different and I especially like the rational connections to nature and the natural world. This is where I personally find God. 

It is no coincidence that Shrove Tuesday is a bit of a feast, Purim has a big festive meal, and Mardi Gras and Carnival all fall in the early spring. (Sorry I don't know enough about the Muslim calender.) At this time of year everyone needed to clear out whatever was left in the winter storehouses. They used up all the food in an enormous binge-out and gave the the place a good spring clean. They were then ready for the first harvest of the year - the barley harvest in the Middle East - celebrated a few weeks later at Easter and Pesach (Passover) time. 

The religious significance of these festivals were tagged on later. 

They're forecasting snow in Jerusalem tomorrow. After a couple of weeks of spring, winter has returned with a vengeance. Of course the snow won't settle and snow days are irrelevant now that school is on Zoom. However, I made an emergency run to the supermarket to stock up on supplies for the duration. 

Tonight DD and I had a bit of a pinukiada. I just heard that word for the first time today. Pinuk means pamper or treat in Hebrew. In the way that a multi-sport sports day is called an olympiada, a multi- pinuk evening can be called a pinukiada. 

We ate pancakes. I found tiny jars of Nutella for DD. We don't use it at all otherwise, so I'd have had an almost full jar of Nutella in the fridge until next year. Next to the almost full jar of Dulce Deleche that we bought for her to make ice-cream on a school zoom activity. Not that we're such healthy eaters. I never met a carbohydrate I didn't like but we're not particulalry into sweets. Our poisons of choice are crisps, chips, pasta, and all thngs savoury. 

I actually like my pancakes with salt and lemon juice. Shoot me, I don't care. 

And now we're full and ready to eat less until the next big festive celebration. As Purim is virtually cancelled again this year (only nuclear families are allowed to meet for the festive meal), I guess we're doing Lent.