the human picture

There is nothing new to say about the problems we have been encountering on this blog platform. For me, the difficulties have made it more and more difficult for me to browse among the blogs of other bloggers here, and make comments. But even though I’ve decided to stop writing here, I want to thank the owners of BCUK, and especially the previous owners, for giving us all the opportunity to meet one another and to publish our thoughts and experiences. I learned about blogging here, and enjoyed meeting many different friends, and I am grateful for that opportunity. I also intend to check out how things are going, as time passes, and hope to stay in touch with some of you.

It is now possible to follow my blog at this address:
http://thehumanpicture.wordpress.com

two kids walking their dog

~

Got together with Kika and Rivka this week, and it was an opportunity to discuss an issue that I’ve only recently discovered, as a result of my post, a couple of weeks ago on education.

Kika and Rivka visiting me

I’ve heard people describe happiness received from their offspring, when they see their children or grandchildren following in their footsteps. In my case, I can say that my children bring me great happiness, not because they followed in my footsteps, but because they continued from where I’ve gotten, and continue quite a bit further. Rivka is a good example. I had a lot of criticism about the way I was raised, and studied a bit about education when I grew up, so as not to make the same mistakes that my parents had made with me. This was not for the purpose of entering into the profession of education. I just wanted to understand this area of activity. As I learned, I developed certain attitudes and principles which helped guide me in the raising of my own children… and discovered along the way, that even with the best intentions, we all make mistakes.

shadow of a tree

My daughter Rivka, having gained success in another profession, returned to this subject herself, after having children, and observing the methods of different schools. She realized that she wasn’t really satisfied with the standard schooling, and began studying the Montessori method of education. After finishing her studies, she opened a Montessori kindergarten, and went on to study numerous methods of communication, which she now teaches to different age groups. She has continued to study, and to teach in a number of different frameworks. Her best friend, Kika, also a married woman with children, has joined her in the quest for better education and communication. They are partners in the management of the kindergarten, and encourage study seminars with employees, and the parents of those children who attend their kindergarten.

we all have to stop and think sometimes

When I first heard of some of their theories on education, I was quite skeptical. It sounded to me as if they were too optimistic about what children could do on their own; that it was too idealistic. But then, I had the pleasure of visiting their kindergarten, and getting to know some of the children and teachers, and my impressions were very positive. The kindergarten has been working now for about ten years, and has had great successes. When I’m thinking about education, I often consult with them. I find I have learned a lot from their opinions and experiences. Having said all of that, I think that if I had young children again, I would not choose to send them to Montessori schools, but would prefer a traditional Jewish education. Still, I respect their work and methods.

Jinji comes for a visit

When speaking to them about the subject of self-esteem, they did not recognize the concept. Of course, we were talking Hebrew. And we looked for some parallel in our language, to see if this idea had penetrated our culture. The closest we were able to get, was the concept of ‘recognizing one’s own worth’. I learned that this was considered a valuable ingredient in the education of the young, according to ‘modern education’ in our country. I prefer this name to the term self-esteem, because it is more modest, and more realistic. But listening to these two educators, I soon realized that though the term was different, many of their ideas on what a child needed in order to become a good student and a healthy person were quite similar to the principles espoused by the ‘self-esteem’ proponents in the US. Since this school of thought is so popular in the west, I see no need to explain it further. But let me say, that thanks to my two friends, and examples that they described to me, showing how negative feelings about one’s self could discourage a person from studying, I felt that I was able to understand the issue better than I had understood it at first.

Jinji and Nechama greeting each other (as cats do)

Esteem is described in the dictionary as ‘a high regard’, admiration, and even reverence. Self-esteem first became popular as a psychological term. It comes from a Greek word meaning ‘a reverence to self’. However, in reading psychological articles on the subject, it seems that the healthy objective is accepting one’s self for whom we are. Unfortunately, the whole push for self esteem is seen as a remedy for an inferiority complex, which is without doubt, a personality aberration. But is self-admiration better than an inferiority complex? I think not. I would consider that, an aberration no less damaging than the first complaint. Narcissism makes a person less sensitive to others, less aware of one’s potential and possibilities. And it distracts a person from work and accomplishment. My friends described ‘ideal’ learning situations in which there was no failure, and no frustration. But what is the true learning experience? For that matter, what is the creative experience all about?

where I sit in an outdoor café, writing

It is about pushing yourself; holding yourself steady, aimed at the objective, as a pilots steers his ship through a stormy sea. It is work and struggle. It includes countless failures. And what is learned along the way, is that one has to take risks, and be willing to take a dive or a fall… and then must pick himself up, and continue the work despite the humiliation, the bruises and the scratches… and even broken bones on the way to the destination. The artist is a tightrope walker, who usually has a lot more scars than victories and successes. And where is that student, that hasn’t picked himself up after failure, and another failure, and another… sometimes more than he can count. Where do you climb a mountain without getting bruised and banged. I’ll tell you where. At Disneyland. Or watching a movie. Real life isn’t like that at all. And in real life, so often, the strong help the weak, as they climb together, or as they learn together. The students themselves, have compassion for their weaker members. They encourage them to overcome difficulties, and help them to reach the almost inaccessible ledge.

waiting for the bus

A good student has humility. He knows his limits, and still tries to surpass what he’s already done. He knows that many of his advantages are not to his own credit, but that he was born with a little more intellect… or maybe had a slightly better background, growing up. He is aware of how many know more than he does. And all of this tempers the feeling of exultation when he does succeed. And a poor student should aspire to emulate the behavior of those better than him. And yes, some are better than others. And there is no need for shame over this. Some are taller than others, and some throw a ball faster and more accurately than others, and some learn easier than others… but as long as you’re working at it, you may taste the ecstasy of learning.

This week I had reason to think about the nature of being part of a group, peer pressures versus individuality, and so on. And today is love day here in Israel, which is quite different from Valentine’s day in America or in England. I was thinking of the great need we have for companionship, and that we really are herd animals, living in groups, sometimes larger and sometimes smaller, but we are happiest with the human interchange, and have reached the greatest accomplishments in history when working as groups. We take it for granted. So much so, that sometimes, when we’re complaining about the noise and the crowding of the city, or about our neighbors, who occasionally invade our privacy, we forget that the alternative, loneliness, can be very difficult to bear.

a walk through the park

And yet, strangely enough, the ever increasing concentration of the human population in big cities, has not provided a sense of belonging, or being part of the human family. On the contrary, it has given rise to feelings of alienation. I remember reading in one of the books by the fine writer, zoologist and anthropologist, Desmond Morris, that someone had researched a great number of address books in England, and come to the conclusion that most people have fairly regular contact and interchanges with about 300 people, among them, the butcher, the baker, and the auto repairman, etc. His thesis was that we live in a village… maybe a virtual village, even when we think we’re living in the big city. Which also means we’re living in very close circumstances with a lot of people we don’t relate to.

the old neighborhood of Sanhedria

It occurs to me that there are any number of ‘virtual’ experiences or bonds that give people the feeling that they are a part of some greater whole, a part of a movement of some sort, and that this, in a way, serves as an antidote to the loneliness and the alienation that threatens many. My first acquaintance with this phenomenon was in the mid sixties. Until that time, I had been the odd fellow who appreciated poetry and literature, had no great interest in material possessions, nor in competition sports. I found a few friends who had similar interests, but there were always great areas of interest in which the incompatibilities were more striking than the similarities. And then, all of a sudden, there was a new wave of consciousness. The young people of the time, rejected the popular values of the day. Across the west, middle aged people were aspiring to reach the security of a home and a car and a television set… most of all, stability, after having had a taste of hell in WWII. And the first generation after that world war, didn’t want to just go through the motions, and adopt the life style of their parents. They saw a lot of hypocrisy in their parents’ generation, and they wanted to live more meaningful lives.

the wash hanging from the balcony

The Beat poets of the 50s had thrown out the challenge, and in the 60s, the thoughts and literature that had questioned the values of the establishment became very popular, amplified by the music of the Beatles, Bob Dylan, and a wide array of folk singers who had been inspired by Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger, who themselves were inspired by literature, philosophy and history. The Beat generation had only attracted a very small minority, but in the 60s, the movement against the war in Vietnam, plus a new found enthusiasm for a ‘widening of the consciousness’, which included the use of psychedelic drugs… all of it together, with a few more ingredients, gave birth to a new tribe… perhaps even an international nation… the hippies, who reached the peak of their expression and joy in that great Woodstock Festival.

just the way I remember things 50 years ago

For a while there, even I, the oddball; the guy stuck in a corner reading a book, started believing that I was a part of a new generation that would throw out the hypocrisies of the past, and build a new world that was fairer, and more considerate of the poor and the downtrodden. The articles I was writing at the time, published by newspapers and journals in order to demonstrate their loyalty to the concept of free speech, became quite successful, and this too had me thinking for a while, that I was right there, where it was happening; that I had found my peers… That the differences were insignificant, and that what mattered were those shared ideals. Unable to cheer till my throat was hoarse at a football game, I found that I did have a sense of solidarity with the new longhaired rebels.

there are still public phones

But that came and passed. And though not with the same intensity, I witnessed other waves of social harmony that included many very different peoples, but feeling at the same time, a kinship. Like those who wore the yellow wristband of Lance Armstrong, in order to fight cancer, or those who worked together to ship food to a starving Biafra, or insulted smokers to bring clean air to the public streets and the cafes, or worked to repair the hole in the ozone in the atmosphere over Australia. The causes always brought people together.

a fruit market on the street

And just as some cause was getting boring, there would be a new cause. And towards the end of the 90s, the technological age of computers and internet brought about a sense of community unlike anything before. If right before the turn of the millennium, we were a bit afraid that all the advantages of this technology might evaporate, the fear itself was soon forgotten, and we found our community in facebook and tweeter, and became ever more attached to our telephones, which had meantime become our computer and best friend… as well as a whole lot of other things for those who have the curiosity to read all of the handbook.

young man reads to an old man

And so it is with a sense of deep respect, that I walk in the orthodox neighborhood of Sanhedria, located in northern Jerusalem. Despite all the changes that have occurred here in the last fifty years, this neighborhood follows customs that have survived thousands of years. The Sanhedrian Park is located here with its burial caves from the time of the Second Temple. And the neighborhood which was evacuated after the 1929 Hebron massacre began to prosper again in 1948. Walking through this neighborhood, I see much fewer cell phones, and people still talking to one another. For an hour or two, I can forget the modern life style, and be reminded of age old customs. Young and old have their place. And I may be wrong, but it seems like it will last forever. All the pictures in this post have been taken from that neighborhood.

I went to meet a student of mine, yesterday. It was a hot day, but quite pleasurable, sitting at an outside table at the café, in the shade of a wide umbrella. A gentle breeze wafted through the space. As is my habit, I came about a half an hour before the meeting, so as not to be late… and the time was well spent. With my little laptop at hand, I was able to continue my studies. And from time to time, I would lift my head, and watch the other patrons who’d chosen to sit outside.

afternoon in the café

Those in groups, chatted freely, and those who came by themselves enjoyed all kinds of private pleasures as they drank their ice coffees, beers, or ate ice cream. There were telephone conversations, and people who listened to music through ear phones, as well as a number of people who had computers with them, or phones that hooked up to the internet. Wifi was available free of charge.

children in the park

I was reading theories on education in the west. A strange read for someone like myself, who’s been a student all his life and a teacher as well. The emphasis seemed to be on the sympathy of the teacher towards the student; on the necessity to make the student feel loved and respected. It seems to me that this might be necessary for an incapacitated student… one who suffered from despair, or extreme psychological problems. But the students I have known did not search out teachers who would pet them, hug them, and make them feel good.

the life of students as a celebration

I believe, that in study, the student does the most of the work. At the very first stage, of course, he has to learn the basic tools; reading, writing, and arithmetic; the proper use of language, and the ability to research in the library. After that, the teacher provides direction, criticism, and checks to see that the student understands well that which he has learned. The teacher may also answer the occasional question. But since ancient times, it is well known that the question is more important than the answer. Learning is the work of the student, and a good student doesn’t wait for the entire class to move on, as do the sheep grazing in the field. Nor does he wait to be spoon fed. Enthusiastically, he devours the text, and checks out the bibliography at the back to find other points of view regarding that which he has now learned. He welcomes the exercises, because they challenge his ability to think, and to express himself in a clear crisp manner. And in his discussions with other students, he widens his understanding of the subject matter, and learns of other ways by which to reach similar results.

the sheep grazing in the field

In our culture, teachers are revered. But every student has a study partner, with whom he studies constantly… getting feedback as they compare notes and exercises. The business of study is not an emotional experience, but an intellectual accomplishment. I wonder, if athletics and sports are taught in the west according to the same ideals held as an example for intellectual studies. Are the football and baseball players given sympathy and compassion, as their teachers worry to insure the students’ confidence and emotional stability?

at the far end of the park

After enjoying a coffee together, and discussing the advantages of modern digital compact cameras, we took a walk through a nearby park. The children, free of the demands and obligations of school, were having a fine time on the grass. Young mothers with babies in their arms were enjoying the calm of the late afternoon. It was a beautiful summer day.

looking out from our backyard, Nechama

This has been a very full week for me. We’ve been having a heat wave, and saw temperatures as high as 39º in Jerusalem. That is unusually hot for us. And aside from that, there have been some very shocking things in the news. Of course, everything is relative, and what may be shocking and earth shaking to me, might not seem worthy of much interest somewhere else. In our country, we usually call this time, the cucumber season, and it is well known that sometimes the journalists have to scrounge around for a human interest story to fill the pages of the newspaper. Because of that, it came as even more of a surprise that every day brought screaming headlines, and mind boggling stories from our neighbors and fellow citizens.

some cats take the side road

And since these things are occupying my mind right now, it is hard for me to write about the subjects that I usually choose to share with my friends on this blog. Yet, at the same time, I find it hard to believe that my readers would have any interest in those things that have occupied my thoughts and feelings for the last week. In fact, I was tempted not to write anything at all. Perhaps, just to share a picture or two, and let it go at that. But I am a creature of habit, and it is my habit to have a little talk with you, at least once a week. So I’ll try to share with you one of these stories… a story that meant a lot to me.

a modest cat

We had a rabbi in our town that was thought of as one of the greatest students of his generation. He dedicated himself to study, and from the time he was a teenager, he used to study all the time. Day and night. His name is Rabbi Elyahiv. You’ve probably never heard of him. Because though he was thought of, as an extraordinary wise man, and a great scholar, he was very modest and never cared much for the spotlight. He married the daughter of one of our favorite Rabbis here, the man we used to call ‘the convicts’ rabbi’ because he was always going to the jail to try to encourage and give solace to those behind bars. Mrs. Elyashiv, used to try and take care of all the work in the house, and all of his routine obligations too. She worked all the time, yet also managed to raise twelve children who all turned out well. They lived a very modest existence. Their home was a small apartment with minimal furniture, and they didn’t change it with the passing of the years. Occasionally, politicians and people of state would visit the man, and they would speak of his very minimalistic apartment; the simple chairs and table. One minister who visited him, mentioned that he was astounded that anyone in the country still lived so simply.

Nechama checks to see who’s coming to join us

Rabbi Elyashiv was made a rabbi, and afterwards was appointed a judge in the highest religious court of the land. In the 1980s, he disagreed with a majority ruling, and quit. Since that time, he has continued as a rabbi, but has sought no other office, nor has he argued publicly with those who held office, or condemned the decisions of others, or spoken in derision of those he did not agree with. He wrote a number of books, but they were published under the names of his students; books of a religious or scholarly nature. As the years went by, more and more of the people in the religious community would seek his opinion on religious question. His authority became great. But only because he was wise and learned, and not because he held any special office. This week he died, after a difficult case of pneumonia, complicated by chronic heart disease. He had asked of his students, that no one make any speeches at his funeral. He just wanted to be buried like a regular guy. But there was someone in his family that just couldn’t withstand the temptation, and gave a speech anyway. You see, the moment people can, they do whatever they want to do. It’s hard to trust anyone.

the rabbi

He was buried the night after he died, as is the custom in Jerusalem. We usually bury someone on the same day he died. 250,000 people came to the funeral. There were people ~ not family… but those who saw him as a father to the entire community, who tore their clothes in mourning. Many of the streets of our city were completely blocked. He was buried, and then everyone went home. He died at the age of 102.

I’m looking forward to a quiet Sabbath.