Hadracha Seminar

Sunday and Monday of this past week we had a seminar on Hadracha (literally defined as "guidance", but colloquially understood to mean "education"). Sunday we talked a lot about the difference between the terms "schooling" and "education". We read a piece entitled Education in Dialogue by John Schostak. This text explains that schooling "is a process of moulding and fashioning minds and behavior according to interests and beliefs of some particular group". On the other hand, education is "the potential to challenge and to suspend all such vested interests, and beliefs." In schooling, binaries are employed. For example, "right" and "wrong", "facts" and non facts, "good" and "bad". This can often force people to feel the need to memorize instead of actually learn.

In the text, the author references the "locus of power". In the context of schooling, the "locus of power" is external to the child/student. The adult "defines and imposes" the ideas. The author says, "And of course, adults do not just freely define and impose what they believe to be best. Rather, it is those in power who define the policies." Whereas, in education, the "locus of power" is within the individual, and others (child or adult) assist in "drawing out" the interests, potential, and creativity of that individual as the individual  reflects on the world about. Education often challenges "traditional forms of thinking and doing prescribed by the processes of schooling, the culture of a given society, and so on." Schostak concludes that education can be dangerous, with which I definitely agree. 

In school for example, most students are allowed to think outside of the box, but not too outside the box; not to the degree that societal expectations are no longer met. Here's the reality, school is controlled by society, so, in school, when you take consumer economics or something like that, you learn about capitalist economies. You don't learn about socialist economies, or, if you do, it is often portrayed in a negative way. 

After considering these two approaches to learning and development I have realized that I am pretty lucky because I feel that my Highschool experience was, for the most part, an educational one and not one focused on schooling. 

From now on in this blog post, when I refer to education it will be in the traditional sense of the word, not by the definition of Schostak. 

While the peulah I spoke of above took up a major part of the seminar, the overarching theme was formal versus informal education. Here's how I define the two: Formal education is generally classroom based; it revolves around testing and grades to determine how much information a student has retained; it involves an adult teaching students from a hierarchical position. Informal education usually happens outside of a classroom setting; students often sit in circles and there may be an older person asking questions to prompt thought, but not so as too sway the students to think a specific way. I personally see benefits to both methods of learning, especially because children think in different ways. However, there lies an issue, the schools that most of us grow up in and attend, utilize formal education. 

My major qualm with formal education is the grading. I live my life striving for a socialist society and human equality. The minute a child understands that our current schooling system is inherently competitive, he/she has entered the world of capitalism. I guess that makes my stance on education more complicated than simply, "I see the benefits of both." But I'm still figuring out what my thoughts are on education. 

To enhance our understanding of informal education, our mechanichim ran a few different stations for us.  

The first one that I attended had to do with learning how to write a peulah. We start with our goals for our chanichim (students/campers), consider our method (so as to appeal to different learning types), write some questions for the sikkum (ending discussion/wrap-up) keeping in mind: what do we our chanichim to take away from this peulah. 

The next station I attended was on making collective decisions. We went over some common and stereotypical personality types and discussed what we could do to make each personality type feel most comfortable in the setting as well as help such individuals to be self aware, etc. 

The final station focused on discipline and how to handle children who behave in ways that limit others' educational experiences or their own. We discussed many different methods for many different situations, and I definitely found this station very useful and thoughtful.

I really enjoyed this seminar and, though I learned a lot, I now have many questions that I'm sure I will discuss and ponder in the near and far future. 

Sukkot Tiyul!

For those of you who don't know, Sukkot is a Jewish festival celebrated in the fall. The holiday, which is a week long and began at sundown Wednesday, Oct. 7, commemorates the forty years the Jews spent wandering in the wilderness, after receiving the Torah on Mt. Sinai.

Sukkot literally means "booths." So, on that Wednesday, we gathered the fixings to build our own sukkah (definition: singular of sukkot). There are three requirements for building a sukkah: It must have at least three walls, be constructed of durable materials that can withstand wind, and the roof must be covered with s’chach (definition: product of the earth that is no longer attached to the earth). We had been provided poles to construct our sukkah frame and we took our bed sheets to hang up on three sides acting as walls. We were able to borrow a machete from a kibbutznik and used it to cut the dead leaves off our palm tree in our yard which we used as our roof covering.

It was really amazing to walk around Ein Dor and see all the different types of sukkot the families had constructed.

In the spirit of Sukkot, we had our first tiyul (definition: trip/hike). We traveled to the Golan Heights, located in the very north of Israel and bordered directly by Syria and Lebanon. Our tiyul lasted four days and three nights, and it was the first time we met the Australian, New Zealand, and South African shnat (definition: year of/gap year) groups in the Habonim Dror movement. I believe I have failed to mention earlier that we have been living next door on Ein Dor to the British (and one German) shnat group for the past four weeks. So, although they were also hiking with us on our tiyul, the eight of them were all familiar company to us. There were eighty 18/19 year old movement members in total. It was an amazing opportunity to hike alongside them and learn about how their kvutza process has been. The shnat groups from south of the equator began their year here in Israel when summer was just finishing for them, meaning they arrived towards the end of January.

Two of our hikes were half-day hikes lasting only about four hours, but our other two hikes were double that. On the two longer days we had the opportunity to go swimming in pools that had formed under waterfalls. The first time I jumped in I felt my entire body clench together from the coldness of the water, and it was pretty hard to breathe. But it was so much fun anyway. Our two shorter hikes were through different streams and at some points the streams got so deep that we had to swim because our feet couldn't touch the ground.

During the hikes we would stop and talk a little bit. Once we spoke of the people who originally lived in the Golan region (Syrians, Arabs, Druze, and Jews); another time we read two quotes by Rabbi Eleazar Ha-Kappar about Chavruta (definition: a pair of people studying Jewish texts together) on the sage of blessed memory. We discussed the two quotes in (you guessed it) pairs. The first quote focused on four things that Jews should always do: avoid sexual misconduct, not speak lashon hara (definition: evil tongue), speak in Hebrew, and keep their Hebrew names. The second quote focused on the needed unity of the Jewish people. I personally found this quote more interesting and provocative to discuss with my New Zealander partner. We talked about whether or not we think it is important for the Jewish people to be unified. We felt strongly that we should be, but knew that it seems like an impossible desire. Then we talked about how being on tiyul with Jews from around the world emphasized the unity of the Jewish people, as our discussions from days earlier made us aware of our overlap in opinions about Judaism and Israel.

When we returned to the campgrounds each night we had a hearty bowl of vegetable soup waiting for us, a delicious dinner, and a night of relaxing activities planned for us. It was very neat meeting other English speakers in our movement from around the world, and, in about three weeks, we will have the Rabin seminar with them, too!

It's been a long and exhausting week. I am definitely looking forward to going back to our regular Boneh schedule. I'm excited to learn about this week's module and get back to my avodah (definition: work) of collecting ashpah (definition:trash) and general landscaping!

Hope you enjoy these pictures from my tiyul!

Chaggim on the Kibbutz

Within the past ten days I have observed two chaggim (definition: holidays) on Ein Dor. Rosh Hashanah (definition: head of the year; the Jewish New Year) began at sundown two Wednesday's ago. Many of my friends left the kibbutz to celebrate with their friends or family or to experience the chag (definition: singular of chaggim) in Jerusalem. I and seven others decided to stay here on Ein Dor. After most people left, we went into Afula where we bought many delicious fruits for snacking and different vegetables with which to cook. I tried fresh figs for the first time, and wow, have I been missing out. We returned home at four and began to get ready for our Rosh Hashanah dinner.

At seven, we congregated and walked together to a grassy area outside of the chadar. There, a stage had been set up with rows upon rows of elegantly prepared table settings. The tables soon filled with the kibbutz families. People of all ages had joined in this special celebration. The dinner included rikudim (definition: dances) and shirim (definition: songs) performed by different kibbutz members. My favorite presentation was a dance done by a group of children in which they emphasized the rhythm of the song through wooden sticks and plastic buckets. Then, dinner was served. The meats were absolutely delicious. Brisket with mushrooms and baked chicken in a prune and dried apricot sauce. I had my fill of gefilte fish and raisin challah as well. Following the meal there was a short movie produced by the kibbutz highlighting the past year. I recognized many faces from the chadar and from just walking around. After the film finished, I, along with my friend Ronnie, joined kibbutz members in rikud (definition: singular of rikudim). I knew a couple of the dances from rikud at camp, but most of them I simply learned on the spot. A bit later trays of honey and apples cake were brought out and we enjoyed our fair share of that, too. The rikud was definitely my favorite part of the night though!

The next day was pretty low key. We did some art projects in the morning to decorate our bayit (definition: house). We made a delicious pasta sauce with basil, garlic, mushrooms, and tomatoes from the previous day in Afula and in the afternoon Ronnie and I went over to the bayit of the mechanichim to talk with our mechaniah (definition: singular of mechanichim), Zak, about the Shmith. The Shmita occurs once every seven years and is known as the sabbatical year. The Torah says that during this year you are to let your land rest (specifically the land of Israel) and that you may only take from your land what grows naturally. One mustn't cultivate it. What the land produces without cultivation may be eaten by any person or animal, but sharing of the naturally grown fruits is very important.

We talked about the relevance of the Shmita in our lives today.  First we talked about the land. There are a small portion of farmers in Israel today who observe the Shmita. If they do, they are allotted some money by the government to sustain themselves during the year, but it is a loss of income for most which is why so few participate. Though this is the literal observance of the Shmita, I do not find this meaningful. Zak, Ronnie and I began to discuss different ways that the Shmita could be more relevant to our beliefs. Since this year is representative of resting the land and equality, I suggested that Israel as a nation should try to spend the year in peace and allow the land to be used by whom ever is in need of it. We transitioned to speaking about resting in general. There is a rabbi in New York who suggested that for this Shmita, individuals should rest from technology-- not to say people should completely give up technology, but perhaps they could find a period during the day where no technology would be used. An interesting thought, but I found the idea a bit of a stretch.

Here's the thing, the Shmita is very specific to the land of Israel. I am fortunate enough to be in the land of Israel during the Shmita year. So, what am I personally resting from by being here on Workshop? Many things. I am resting from individual money which allows for equity and consciousness; I am resting from formal education which allows for self discovery, creativity, and a different perspective on learning; I am resting from dependence and parental authority which allows for independence, making my own, and choosing how I want to live.

Last night marked the beginning of Yom Kippur (definition: Day of Atonement). Building up to Yom Kippur, our madrichim and mechanichim ran different peulot on forgiveness, fasting, and change. This is one of the first times I've truly thought about the reasons for my fast. I considered what the chag would be like if I didn't fast, and I decided that fasting is part of the reason that Yom Kippur is special and that the fast adds symbolic meaning to the day. The pain of the hunger makes me consider how my actions throughout the year may have caused others pain. The fast allows me self reflection time as well, but in a way that would be different had I a full belly.

After a tasty dinner of pasta and salad, ten of us attended the reform Kol Nidrei (definition: literal: "all vows"; understood to mean: opening prayer on the eve of Yom Kippur and the name of the service) service on the kibbutz. I followed along the best I could given the service was entirely in Hebrew. The only shir (definition: singular of shirim) I recognized was able to join in on was Avinu Malkeinu (definition: "Our father, our God"). But it was hands down the shortest Jewish service I have ever attended, lasting barely 45 min.

Once we'd all returned from services, our entire kvutza headed outside where we each wrote a letter to a person that we were seeking his or her forgiveness. Then, we gathered together and about half the kvutza shared their letters. At the end, we were all raw with emotion. Seeing so many people so vulnerable made my heart ache, but the honesty will deepen our understanding of each other and create a closer kvutza.

This morning, I woke up early to attend morning prayer at the orthodox services (no other services were available). When the three of us walked in there were only four men, so we could not start prayer. Thankfully, within a half-hour, about seven more men arrived and a minyan could be made. We stayed for a little while longer, but found it quite difficult to follow along, so we left and enjoyed the peaceful walk home. The rest of the day was spent relaxing including reading, painting, and sleeping a little bit. I attended the evening reform service which I found quite calming and came home to a delicious break fast.

L'shana tova (definition: to a good year)!