My last week and a half in Israel consisted of exploring the country and hanging out with friends.
I went to Chevron with a friend from the program. I looked at the website beforehand to see what kind of tour it was going to be. Apparently, though, I was the only who did not get the memo to wear a long black skirt and a black shirt. I was in jeans and a pink jacket. I stood out like the smell of fish at the shuk. Our first stop was Rachel's tomb, where we entered the West Bank. The bus drove between two tall cement walls. While I felt isolated, I knew how much these walls protected the Israeli people. Rachel's tomb was pure chaos. There was construction on the women's side so the men's side was split for both. Because it was time for the morning service, a lot of religious school groups were there. Just imagine trying to swim through a sea of feisty religious women. It's not a pretty sight. In addition, the 13 year old girls were texting on their phone. I personally felt no connection to this place, but I was respectful. These girls are supposed to feel a greater connection and they were busy texting their friend about some stupid comment.
Our next stop was the actual city of Chevron. There, we saw the tomb of Ruth and Yishai (Jesse). The tour guide didn't say much about the history of them. Nor did he say much at the Beit-Hadassah museum. I learned more reading the captions of the pictures than I did from him. There was no historical context. He didn't explain why Chevron was so important, besides the fact that the patriarchs and matriarchs are buried there. He didn't talk about why the city is split up. He didn't talk about the conflict between the Arabs and Israelis. After a quick break for lunch, we walked to the Machpela, or the Cave of the Patriarchs. The tour guide kept on persisting that everyone would feel a connection to the Seventh Step and I felt guilty for not feeling anything. I mean, personally, I think, the Kotel is more exciting. It was cool to see the temple and the tombs of Avraham, Yitzchak, Ya'akov and Sara, Rivka, Leah, but let's be honest. Do you really think there is a body in these elaborate boxes? It may be the place where these characters were buried, but there's no way of knowing for sure. I felt the historical connection, but the emotional connection was not there. But even if I were to feel a connection, like I do at the Kotel, I wouldn't feel the need to kiss the ground. They were just people like you and me. Sure they were the founders of Judaism, but they were still humans. We were at the Cave of the Patriarchs during Mincha, the afternoon service and one of the Rebbe's was crying as he prayed. I think it's wonderful that you have such a great connection to this place, but it's just a building where the patriarchs are buried...maybe. I guess I don't have that deep connection.
Before I left Israel, last Sunday, I went to a reserve and absorbed the last bits of Israel. I took in the sea and the Old City walls. I closed my eyes and took a picture of the beautiful country so that I can remember it exactly as I see it and feel it. As I flew home on the airplane, we flew over the beach in Tel Aviv. The same one I went to the first day I was in Tel Aviv. For now, everything came full circle for I will be back in this Holy Land once again.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
True Love
I have spent hours trying to figure out why, exactly, I love Israel. But it's complicated. There's no specific things. How do I explain the connection I feel with the strangers around me? How do I explain the familial ties? How do I explain the "Jewish Mothers" that pass by me everyday? How do I explain the feeling of Jerusalem versus the feeling of Tel Aviv? The feeling of The Negev and Golan versus the feeling of Eilat and Haifa?
How do I explain my love for the elements in and of Israel? Why do I love Israel so much? It's because of the people and the wildlife. The culture and the attitude. The language and the gestures. The tension and the love. I love its desert life and city life. Its beaches and its high rises. Its holy places and its clubs. Its sites and its views. I love the buses and the taxis. The drivers and the roads. The roundabouts and the pedestrians. The food and the drinks. The alleyways and vast openness of the ocean. I love the noise of the shuk and the mall and the serenity of the sunsets and the stars. I love the battle between the religious and the secular. I love The hole-in-the-wall place that has the best pita/hummus/ juice/Malawach/ice cream/drinks. The chain restaurants that are just ok. The pushing and shoving. The Jewish Mothers. The timeless schedule. The promptness of the start of Shabbat.
My "Only in Israel" stories help elaborate on why I love this country, but still there is more.
When I wake up in the morning, I feel Israel. It helps that I when I walk to the bus stop, I can see the Dome of the Rock. But even when I was in Tel Aviv, I could feel the hustle and bustle of the city life that is Israel. I can feel the embrace of Israel and the warmth (literally and figuratively) of the country. Walking down the street on any given day, I am likely to bump into someone I know that's not from the program. The man at the juice stand insists I try a different juice than the one I want. The bus driver speaks Hebrew with no accent, but displays his Canadian flag proudly. The beggars on the street ask for more money even after they are given 2 shekels. I don't need to wait in line to get onto the bus, I can just push my way through the stream and be part of the culture.
There are also negatives that I love about Israel. Not knowing the language is the most frustrating thing, but at the end of the day I am always proud of myself for one Hebrew encounter I had. The siren drills that happen and the soldiers on the street are not scary. They are a part of life. The only time I felt afraid was when I was in Sderot, but even then I knew the program would keep us safe. They told us exactly what to do in case of an emergency, but they also said that nothing would happen. Whether or not that was a lie it calmed my fears as well as anyone else who was freaking out.
How do I explain my love for the elements in and of Israel? Why do I love Israel so much? It's because of the people and the wildlife. The culture and the attitude. The language and the gestures. The tension and the love. I love its desert life and city life. Its beaches and its high rises. Its holy places and its clubs. Its sites and its views. I love the buses and the taxis. The drivers and the roads. The roundabouts and the pedestrians. The food and the drinks. The alleyways and vast openness of the ocean. I love the noise of the shuk and the mall and the serenity of the sunsets and the stars. I love the battle between the religious and the secular. I love The hole-in-the-wall place that has the best pita/hummus/ juice/Malawach/ice cream/drinks. The chain restaurants that are just ok. The pushing and shoving. The Jewish Mothers. The timeless schedule. The promptness of the start of Shabbat.
My "Only in Israel" stories help elaborate on why I love this country, but still there is more.
When I wake up in the morning, I feel Israel. It helps that I when I walk to the bus stop, I can see the Dome of the Rock. But even when I was in Tel Aviv, I could feel the hustle and bustle of the city life that is Israel. I can feel the embrace of Israel and the warmth (literally and figuratively) of the country. Walking down the street on any given day, I am likely to bump into someone I know that's not from the program. The man at the juice stand insists I try a different juice than the one I want. The bus driver speaks Hebrew with no accent, but displays his Canadian flag proudly. The beggars on the street ask for more money even after they are given 2 shekels. I don't need to wait in line to get onto the bus, I can just push my way through the stream and be part of the culture.
There are also negatives that I love about Israel. Not knowing the language is the most frustrating thing, but at the end of the day I am always proud of myself for one Hebrew encounter I had. The siren drills that happen and the soldiers on the street are not scary. They are a part of life. The only time I felt afraid was when I was in Sderot, but even then I knew the program would keep us safe. They told us exactly what to do in case of an emergency, but they also said that nothing would happen. Whether or not that was a lie it calmed my fears as well as anyone else who was freaking out.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Secrets of Israel
When a tourist comes to Israel, they do not see the individuality of the country. They see only the face of Israel and not the heart. When they come to Jerusalem, they head straight to the Kotel, the Western Wall. In Tiberias, it's the Kineret. In Haifa, the Bahaii Gardens are the main attraction. Tel Aviv attracts beach goers and Beer Sheva, the hikers. While these sites are necessary to visit, it is also important to realize the uniqueness of the country. Israel is more than just tourist sites and "The Jewish State." The first time I visited Jerusalem (both on Birthright and on Career-Israel), the tour guide told a story that until recently I did not completely understand. That is to say, I comprehended the idea, but never put it into practice for more than a few seconds.
A tour group had stopped in front of an important site. The tour guide said them, "see the man on the bench? To his left you will see battlefield on which many men died. On his right you will see the graveyard of those men. Above his head you see a great maple tree. This tree was planted in honor of the men and the plaques that begin starting at his feet were put down to commemorate those men." The man thought to himself. "Maybe someday, the tourguide will say 'You see the tree that grows maple leaves and the battlefield where men died? The graveyard and the plaques? Those aren't important. You see the man on the bench? He is what keeps this city alive."
The point of the story is, as a tourist, to stop what you're doing and look around. Not at the sites, but at the people because it is the citizens of the town that continue to keep the sites as they are. They are the true heart. While I try to absorb the "real" city of where I am, you can't really know how that person lives until you talk to them. I may stereotype the yeshiva boys walking on Yafo Street as boys who sit and study Torah all day, but then when you see a team of them playing soccer and high-fiveing one another, that's the real Jerusalem. The cafes on the beach may be expensive, but seeing families park their blankets on the sand every Shabbat and friends relaxing in the water, that is the heart of Israel.
If I mention "Israel" to you, you will most likely imagine an image of the Kotel and Jerusalem stone. But what about the neighborhoods of Israel? The ones that aren't tourist attraction? The ones where people work day-in and day-out and live in a home. The small towns of Israel also make up the character of the State, not just the famous attractions. The small town of Yavneh is composed of a generation of fighter pilots. They settled in this town because it was an open space for the planes. The random sites on the side of the highway are also important to absorb, but to get out on the side of a highway and click a picture is not climbing inside the "real" Israel. It is simply being a tourist. However, snapping a picture and driving through random streets because they look interesting or stopping on the side of a road because you see an old military base, that's what it means to know the heart. Tourists don't know that the hole-in-the-wall restaurants are usually the best ones. Just the other day, I went to a juice stand off Ben-Yehuda street. It looked a little sketchy, but then again so do a lot of the stores on the that street. I asked for a juice with all different fruits, but I wasn't sure what I was getting. In the end, it was the best juice I've had in Jerusalem.
This juice experience tells me how much I have to learn about this city, but as I learn about it, I keep the heart of Israel with me. Last week, I went to the Temple Mount, where the famous golden dome shines as a symbol for Jerusalem. While waiting in line for security, a Bar-Mitzvah was passing through. The klezmer music echoed off the lime stone and eyes turned to watch the boy make his way to the Western Wall. A few days later, I went to Tiberias to Chamat Gadera, the hot springs. It was surprisingly crowded given that it was rainy and that it was Shabbat. But either way, this natural jacuzzi was filled with only Israelis so while this may be a tourist site, it is a favorite of natives. (pictures here)
Yes, you read that correctly. There was rain last weekend in Tiberias and rain, thunder and lightening, and hail this weekend in Haifa. This week's storm, unlike last week, was wild. The streets were filled with water as the rain spattered onto the roof. Hail knocked on roofs and indented cars. 10 minutes later, after some chicken soup, the clouds cleared, the sun shone, and the water disappeared from the streets. As if it never rained at all.
A tour group had stopped in front of an important site. The tour guide said them, "see the man on the bench? To his left you will see battlefield on which many men died. On his right you will see the graveyard of those men. Above his head you see a great maple tree. This tree was planted in honor of the men and the plaques that begin starting at his feet were put down to commemorate those men." The man thought to himself. "Maybe someday, the tourguide will say 'You see the tree that grows maple leaves and the battlefield where men died? The graveyard and the plaques? Those aren't important. You see the man on the bench? He is what keeps this city alive."
The point of the story is, as a tourist, to stop what you're doing and look around. Not at the sites, but at the people because it is the citizens of the town that continue to keep the sites as they are. They are the true heart. While I try to absorb the "real" city of where I am, you can't really know how that person lives until you talk to them. I may stereotype the yeshiva boys walking on Yafo Street as boys who sit and study Torah all day, but then when you see a team of them playing soccer and high-fiveing one another, that's the real Jerusalem. The cafes on the beach may be expensive, but seeing families park their blankets on the sand every Shabbat and friends relaxing in the water, that is the heart of Israel.
If I mention "Israel" to you, you will most likely imagine an image of the Kotel and Jerusalem stone. But what about the neighborhoods of Israel? The ones that aren't tourist attraction? The ones where people work day-in and day-out and live in a home. The small towns of Israel also make up the character of the State, not just the famous attractions. The small town of Yavneh is composed of a generation of fighter pilots. They settled in this town because it was an open space for the planes. The random sites on the side of the highway are also important to absorb, but to get out on the side of a highway and click a picture is not climbing inside the "real" Israel. It is simply being a tourist. However, snapping a picture and driving through random streets because they look interesting or stopping on the side of a road because you see an old military base, that's what it means to know the heart. Tourists don't know that the hole-in-the-wall restaurants are usually the best ones. Just the other day, I went to a juice stand off Ben-Yehuda street. It looked a little sketchy, but then again so do a lot of the stores on the that street. I asked for a juice with all different fruits, but I wasn't sure what I was getting. In the end, it was the best juice I've had in Jerusalem.
This juice experience tells me how much I have to learn about this city, but as I learn about it, I keep the heart of Israel with me. Last week, I went to the Temple Mount, where the famous golden dome shines as a symbol for Jerusalem. While waiting in line for security, a Bar-Mitzvah was passing through. The klezmer music echoed off the lime stone and eyes turned to watch the boy make his way to the Western Wall. A few days later, I went to Tiberias to Chamat Gadera, the hot springs. It was surprisingly crowded given that it was rainy and that it was Shabbat. But either way, this natural jacuzzi was filled with only Israelis so while this may be a tourist site, it is a favorite of natives. (pictures here)
Yes, you read that correctly. There was rain last weekend in Tiberias and rain, thunder and lightening, and hail this weekend in Haifa. This week's storm, unlike last week, was wild. The streets were filled with water as the rain spattered onto the roof. Hail knocked on roofs and indented cars. 10 minutes later, after some chicken soup, the clouds cleared, the sun shone, and the water disappeared from the streets. As if it never rained at all.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Do You Understand?
Most of the kids in my class are over one. But the age range in that one year is very drastic. The 14 month old can't talk yet nor can he sit up, but that's mostly because of his cystic fibrosis. The 15 month old can sit up and walk if you hold her hands. She can also say "et zeh," the Hebrew version of "that." The 18 month old can walk and, as us teachers like to say, eats like a prince. He always wants to wash his hands and when he eats most of his food actually ends up in his mouth. The other 18 month old is blind so she can't walk by herself yet, but she is able to talk and complete words. The 21 month old is the most independent one year old I have ever encountered. She walks, she is learning to talk (her favorite word? Todah? And yes, that's phrased as a question), and she can "pretend play." The other two kids in the class are 2 or 3, but developmentally they are where the one year olds are.
This week, the 21 month old did the cutest thing. She took a doll and carried it over to the high chair and tried to strap it in. She dragged one of the stools that the teachers use to feed the kids and mimicked us. She took the doll out and burped it and then wanted to change it's diaper. This is our routine for the kids: After breakfast we change their diapers.
This got me thinking. How much do babies actually understand? We'll tell her to go wash her hands, but is she just not listening or does she just not understand? How much are they paying attention to what adults do? Who/what do they choose to mimic and who/what do they choose to ignore and why is it this way? When do babies start understanding commands and "do" what they're told? They may repeat "Dooby" (teddy bear), but do they actually know what that word means? Are they able to comprehend that everything has a name?
These kids all know exactly what they want. The 18 month old will put his hands up wanting to be held. Or the 15 month old will point to the playground and start crying. Do they want "Maym" because it's instinctive to want something to drink? Or do they want "Teh" because they know it tastes good?
On a separate note, for New Year's Eve, I went to a friend's apartment, but with no Ball Drop, no freezing my butt off at First Night, and so few people celebrating it, the night really felt like any other Shabbat night. When one of my friends, who was at work, called me to wish me Happy New Year, he said "Shana Tova." For a moment I was so confused. Shana Tova? That's September. But that's how you say "happy new year" in Hebrew. New Year's Day, my friend was driving home to a town near Tel Aviv so I went with him and saw friends in Tel Aviv. It was a great start to a new year.
The Negev pictures are up. The first few are of the crazy sandstorm we had a few weeks ago. Enjoy!
This week, the 21 month old did the cutest thing. She took a doll and carried it over to the high chair and tried to strap it in. She dragged one of the stools that the teachers use to feed the kids and mimicked us. She took the doll out and burped it and then wanted to change it's diaper. This is our routine for the kids: After breakfast we change their diapers.
This got me thinking. How much do babies actually understand? We'll tell her to go wash her hands, but is she just not listening or does she just not understand? How much are they paying attention to what adults do? Who/what do they choose to mimic and who/what do they choose to ignore and why is it this way? When do babies start understanding commands and "do" what they're told? They may repeat "Dooby" (teddy bear), but do they actually know what that word means? Are they able to comprehend that everything has a name?
These kids all know exactly what they want. The 18 month old will put his hands up wanting to be held. Or the 15 month old will point to the playground and start crying. Do they want "Maym" because it's instinctive to want something to drink? Or do they want "Teh" because they know it tastes good?
On a separate note, for New Year's Eve, I went to a friend's apartment, but with no Ball Drop, no freezing my butt off at First Night, and so few people celebrating it, the night really felt like any other Shabbat night. When one of my friends, who was at work, called me to wish me Happy New Year, he said "Shana Tova." For a moment I was so confused. Shana Tova? That's September. But that's how you say "happy new year" in Hebrew. New Year's Day, my friend was driving home to a town near Tel Aviv so I went with him and saw friends in Tel Aviv. It was a great start to a new year.
The Negev pictures are up. The first few are of the crazy sandstorm we had a few weeks ago. Enjoy!
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
What is a Jew? Part 3: Heritage and History
This week, Career-Israel trekked South to the Negev. On our last day, we visited a community of "Black Hebrews." They claim they are Jewish and have Jewish backgrounds. Our speaker told us that when the Romans were invading and destroyed the Second Temple, natural instinct says to go South as they were coming from the North. So while some tribes moved East, they moved South to Africa. During the British Empire and the Slave Trade, many tribes in the African villages were split up and those who were taken did not have time to bring symbolic materials with them and only carried on the oral tradition. In the Americas, the speaker said, the slaves talked about their Jewish heritage through songs. The songs were about the Jordan River, not the Ganges or the Euphrates River, as well as about the Messiah not Christ.
In 1966, a priest in Chicago had a 45 second vision (even the speaker seemed a little skeptical about that) to bring the Black Hebrews back to their homeland the next year. So in 1967, when J. Edgar Hoover and Martin Luther King were making the mark in history, 400 Black Hebrews left America for Liberia. The visionary said that they were to return via the same route they took. Liberia welcomed them with open arms, but after a few years they knew this was not the place they were supposed to be because of the disease, death, and economy. And so they trekked onward to Israel.
In Israel, they were granted citizenship under the Law of Return, which gives any Jew the right to citizenship. They established a community where diet and health are regulated. They follow an organic vegan diet and exercise three times a week. These laws are mandated by the community. The leader of the community said that no one has ever been sick and all the diseases that "they" say African-Americans are predisposed to do not appear on any charts.
Why do they claim they are Jewish? First of all, they say "Judaism" means from the tribe of Judah and if they can claim this then they are Jewish. In addition, they follow the laws of the Torah. Not the Talmud or any other interpretation. They supposedly follow exactly what the Torah says. Besides the fact that the Torah specifically says not to do this, there are a few inconsistencies. They wear fringes on their garments in the interpretive manner, but they shave the four corners of their face and not everyone wears a kippah. They observe Shabbat, but they fast when the Torah clearly says not to do this.
Up until this point, I could understand their interpretations on religion even if I did not agree. I do not think they are Jewish, but I can see where they are coming from. It was when we took a tour of the community that my doubts began to simmer. They still believe in polygamy, but do not practice it because "Israel still don't think it be cool." (Side note: Since most of them are Black and from the US, the little kids speak like they are from the Block) In addition, everything is based on the conscience of an individual. There are no locks on the doors because if someone does steal from them, the individual has pay the price. If they do not exercise three times a week, it's the individual that has to pay the price. There are no consequences. We spoke to the Doctor who essentially believes that beings can live forever. At first I thought that he meant if we eat right and exercise right, then we can live the same amount of years as the biblical characters. However, someone directly asked him if he thought that humans could live forever and he said yes. I asked him about deterioration of the brain and his answer was that the community is only 40 years old, you can't see the results yet.
The Black Hebrews are definitely something I will be thinking about in the future.
In addition to this community, we hiked through Mitzpe Ramon and Maktesh Gadol, which is actually smaller than Mitzpe Ramon since they discovered Ramon after, and saw some beautiful views in Ein Avdat. Now that I am back in Jerusalem, I can appreciate the desert and can safely say I will not live there, despite the propaganda we were given, and I am so thankful for indoor plumbing.
In 1966, a priest in Chicago had a 45 second vision (even the speaker seemed a little skeptical about that) to bring the Black Hebrews back to their homeland the next year. So in 1967, when J. Edgar Hoover and Martin Luther King were making the mark in history, 400 Black Hebrews left America for Liberia. The visionary said that they were to return via the same route they took. Liberia welcomed them with open arms, but after a few years they knew this was not the place they were supposed to be because of the disease, death, and economy. And so they trekked onward to Israel.
In Israel, they were granted citizenship under the Law of Return, which gives any Jew the right to citizenship. They established a community where diet and health are regulated. They follow an organic vegan diet and exercise three times a week. These laws are mandated by the community. The leader of the community said that no one has ever been sick and all the diseases that "they" say African-Americans are predisposed to do not appear on any charts.
Why do they claim they are Jewish? First of all, they say "Judaism" means from the tribe of Judah and if they can claim this then they are Jewish. In addition, they follow the laws of the Torah. Not the Talmud or any other interpretation. They supposedly follow exactly what the Torah says. Besides the fact that the Torah specifically says not to do this, there are a few inconsistencies. They wear fringes on their garments in the interpretive manner, but they shave the four corners of their face and not everyone wears a kippah. They observe Shabbat, but they fast when the Torah clearly says not to do this.
Up until this point, I could understand their interpretations on religion even if I did not agree. I do not think they are Jewish, but I can see where they are coming from. It was when we took a tour of the community that my doubts began to simmer. They still believe in polygamy, but do not practice it because "Israel still don't think it be cool." (Side note: Since most of them are Black and from the US, the little kids speak like they are from the Block) In addition, everything is based on the conscience of an individual. There are no locks on the doors because if someone does steal from them, the individual has pay the price. If they do not exercise three times a week, it's the individual that has to pay the price. There are no consequences. We spoke to the Doctor who essentially believes that beings can live forever. At first I thought that he meant if we eat right and exercise right, then we can live the same amount of years as the biblical characters. However, someone directly asked him if he thought that humans could live forever and he said yes. I asked him about deterioration of the brain and his answer was that the community is only 40 years old, you can't see the results yet.
The Black Hebrews are definitely something I will be thinking about in the future.
In addition to this community, we hiked through Mitzpe Ramon and Maktesh Gadol, which is actually smaller than Mitzpe Ramon since they discovered Ramon after, and saw some beautiful views in Ein Avdat. Now that I am back in Jerusalem, I can appreciate the desert and can safely say I will not live there, despite the propaganda we were given, and I am so thankful for indoor plumbing.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Questions, questions, questions
Working at a school for seeing-impaired children has raised many questions for me that I would love to research:
1. How does attachment style in blind children differ from those who are not?
2. How are the blind affected by gender stereotypes?
3. Where/How does a blind individual pick up certain social cues?
4. What's the standard for determining attraction?
When I was sitting in a classroom listening to professors lecture me about how so-and-so had a huge list of questions, all I could think of was "how has everything not been answered already?" However, working in an environment of my interest promotes me to think about the psychology behind how these blind children grow up. It's a very different world if you are blind and as a seeing-person, I imagine a difficult one too.
1. How does attachment style in blind children differ from those who are not?
An experiment done by Mary Main concluded that there are 4 different attachment styles both for children and later discovered by Cindy Hazan and Phillip Shaver that the same can be applied to adults:
Secure: Child protests caregivers departure and looks for comfort
Avoidant: Little distress upon caregivers departure
Ambivalent/Resistant: Distressed upon caregiver's departure, but unable to comforted upon the return
Disorganized: Display of contradictory behaviors
While it is the bus/taxi drivers that drop the kids off, not the parents, I wonder how our presence in the classroom effects the children. One boy, for example, will give anyone a hug. Is it that he doesn't get enough attention at home? Or is it that his mother is avoidant when dealing with him? One of the girls shows no change in emotion when we say she is going home nor does she show any emotion when she enters the classroom. One thing she does do is cry a lot despite being greatly attached to one of the other teachers. These are the kids that are completely blind as opposed to the ones who can see, but only slightly.
On Sunday, we had a Chanukkah party with the parents. It was mostly the moms, but there was one or two dads, at least in my classroom. The kids all look exactly like their parents. It was adorable seeing them together. It was also easy to see why some of the kids act the way they do. The boy who is always giving out hugs, had a mother who didn't really seem that interested in making the dreidel with her son. He is obviously vying for attention. In my opinion, I think that he wants to be touched so that he knows he exists. His whole world is through sensory tactility. Even when I put him to sleep, I will hold his hand. This doesn't usually help, but at least he stops crying.
The girl who is attached to everyone, but has one specific one she loves, and who I would classify as "secure attachment", had both her parents there as well as her older sister from one of the other classrooms. The girl who is the most independent and talkative had a mother who let her be creative while guiding her in the correct steps. And the boy who is quiet, but knows exactly where to put his arms and legs when you pick him up has mother who is quiet and shy, but was attentive towards the boy.
2. How are the blind affected by gender stereotypes?
In many of my psychology text books, there was always the claim that children learned about stereotypes based on observation. One specific example that I remember was a picture of a girl putting on lipstick with her mother. If blind children are unable to observe because of their impairment, how do they realize their gender? I could see that if a child heard mostly women's voices from the kitchen and mostly men's voices from the living area, that an assumption could be made that women are in the kitchen because they do the cooking. That's how females learn that stereotype. At a family get-together, who are the ones that are usually in the kitchen helping out and who are the ones sipping a beer on the porch?
I ask this question because one of the kids was wearing his twin sister's socks. Another boy was wearing a pair of pants that were clearly from the girls' section. Being unable to see what colors and style they are actually wearing, how is gender specified. In addition, I wonder if blind children are more willing to play with toys that are commercialized for the other gender. There are no gender specific toys in our classroom. There's a pink ball or a purple bell, but no Barbies and trucks. Because they are unable to see this gender-specific toys, how do they understand the world in terms of "male" and "female"?
3. Where/How does a blind individual pick up certain social cues?
When seeing-individuals talk to someone, they are subconsciously reading the other's face. We see when we verbally hurt someone when their facial expression changes. We then know not to talk about that subject anymore and we move on to a different one. Since the blind are unable to see these subtle changes, are they more in tune with tone of voice? Even seeing people use their sub-conscious to determine tone of voice.
On Friday, I was across the room and called to one of the kids. She turned, looked at me, and gave me the cutest smile and sparkling eyes. When I call the blind boy's name, he'll turn his head and say "what?" He doesn't realize that the correct social response is to turn and respond to my smile on my face. This also goes for table manners as well. Obviously one and two year olds don't really have table manners. However, they know they are supposed to sit until they are done eating (even if they don't want to) and they know how big of bite they need to take, most of the time, so that they won't choke. The blind boy is able to feel how big the cookie is, but he still stuffs the whole thing in his mouth and asks for another one. He is always the first one done with breakfast and lunch unless one of us gives him his food piece by piece. The seeing kids still stuff the food into their face, but they don't usually bite off more than they can handle.
4. What's the standard for determining attraction?
I think it would be interesting to look at married blind couples. There have been experiments where it has been proven that the most successful marriages are the ones where the two people have similar facial features. I guess the blind would be able to use touch as their method of attraction, but what how else do they determine this? While physical attraction is not everything in a relationship, it is part of it so how do the blind take this into account, if at all?
When I was sitting in a classroom listening to professors lecture me about how so-and-so had a huge list of questions, all I could think of was "how has everything not been answered already?" However, working in an environment of my interest promotes me to think about the psychology behind how these blind children grow up. It's a very different world if you are blind and as a seeing-person, I imagine a difficult one too.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Visitor or Resident?
While waiting to meet a friend, the security guard by Jaffa Gate made small chit-chat with me and asked me if I was visiting here or living here.
I was unsure of how to answer that.
I'm a visitor as I'm not yet here permanently. I don't know every place in Jerusalem and still need help when I go into unfamiliar territory. I can barely communicate with cashiers and I can hardly haggle at the Shuk. I travel every weekend or so to a different place in Israel that I haven't seen. I don't know how to get there and I don't know how to get back without intensive planning and stressing.
But I'm also a resident. I don't need a map to figure out where I'm going in the streets of Jerusalem. I know the twists and turns of the road enough that I don't have to pay attention to the bus route I'm taking and can read a book. I know my way around the confusing shuk of the Old City. I know certain landmarks and the non-touristy places to eat. I feel like a resident, but I'm a visitor. My parents came to visit me last week and I was the one that took them to a different part of Jerusalem. I knew where the good coffee shops and the good bakeries were. I knew the shortcuts and the best time of day to visit a site. Even when we went North to Tiberias and Nahariya, while I didn't know exactly where we were, the roads were sort of familiar. And, Israeli standards are the same every where. It didn't faze me that there were vegetables for breakfast (unlike the more fruity one in the US) nor did it faze me when I saw our small room in one of the hotels.
However, in light of current events (Fire in Haifa), I feel even more like a resident. On Thursday, the program took us to Haifa for a cultural tour. When we arrived at the Bahai'i Gardens, we could see a smoke cloud, but it was nothing to worry about. Our tour guide told us that there is a firing range near Carmel Park (where the fire seemed to be coming from) and that someone probably hit something accidentally setting it on fire. We continued onward to Elisha's Cave in Jewish tradition and Elijah's cave in Christian tradition. The church was beautiful and serene. The smoke reigned over us as we ate lunch and hiked down to Elijah's cave where the question of "what makes a holy site holy" was proposed. Elijah's cave is a hunk of rock. Who's to say that Elijah stayed here. Where's the proof? On the other hand there are many things in Judaism that are based on faith. Because of that, we create reasons and thoughts as well as special places that can accommodate the ideas and people of the Torah. As we reached our last stop before dinner, the madrichim began collaborating. The fire in Haifa was worse than they thought. By the time we finished hearing about Ahmadiyya Islam, three out of the four entrances to the Druze village were closed. In order to make up for that, we went all the way around Mt. Carmel. As the bus passed the beach, it seemed as if it was 430 in the afternoon when in reality it wasn't even 3. The cloud from the fire covered up the sun giving it a neon pink glow. We could see the helicopters weaving in and out, either for news reports or for humanitarian efforts. As the bus continued, I saw the actual flames and the reality of the situation hit me.
I had studied in Haifa in two years ago. I was on those mountains. I hiked through that park. My friend and I got lost in that park. I know people who live in Haifa. Who have made Aliyah and are living there. But it wasn't only that. The situation was first-hand. I wasn't hearing this from the news. I was seeing this. Natural disaster first-hand. Israel wasn't a far away country. I was here. I AM here. The only thing on the news is the fire. The only things people are talking about is the fire. When I rode the bus to work on Friday, the radio had new reports about the fire. When I walked into work, the first thing my co-worker said to me was "did you hear what happened". This is the worst fire Israel has had. A Ha'aretz reporter went as far as comparing it to the Yom Kippur War in 1973 as Israel was completely unprepared for both disasters.
Because I so involved in the situation, I can feel more empathetic than I would if I was in the US. It's not that I wouldn't feel bad if I was at home, it's just that it's that I can more easily relate to the situation because I am living here. Thus, I am a resident of Israel.
pictures of the previous few weeks
I was unsure of how to answer that.
I'm a visitor as I'm not yet here permanently. I don't know every place in Jerusalem and still need help when I go into unfamiliar territory. I can barely communicate with cashiers and I can hardly haggle at the Shuk. I travel every weekend or so to a different place in Israel that I haven't seen. I don't know how to get there and I don't know how to get back without intensive planning and stressing.
But I'm also a resident. I don't need a map to figure out where I'm going in the streets of Jerusalem. I know the twists and turns of the road enough that I don't have to pay attention to the bus route I'm taking and can read a book. I know my way around the confusing shuk of the Old City. I know certain landmarks and the non-touristy places to eat. I feel like a resident, but I'm a visitor. My parents came to visit me last week and I was the one that took them to a different part of Jerusalem. I knew where the good coffee shops and the good bakeries were. I knew the shortcuts and the best time of day to visit a site. Even when we went North to Tiberias and Nahariya, while I didn't know exactly where we were, the roads were sort of familiar. And, Israeli standards are the same every where. It didn't faze me that there were vegetables for breakfast (unlike the more fruity one in the US) nor did it faze me when I saw our small room in one of the hotels.
However, in light of current events (Fire in Haifa), I feel even more like a resident. On Thursday, the program took us to Haifa for a cultural tour. When we arrived at the Bahai'i Gardens, we could see a smoke cloud, but it was nothing to worry about. Our tour guide told us that there is a firing range near Carmel Park (where the fire seemed to be coming from) and that someone probably hit something accidentally setting it on fire. We continued onward to Elisha's Cave in Jewish tradition and Elijah's cave in Christian tradition. The church was beautiful and serene. The smoke reigned over us as we ate lunch and hiked down to Elijah's cave where the question of "what makes a holy site holy" was proposed. Elijah's cave is a hunk of rock. Who's to say that Elijah stayed here. Where's the proof? On the other hand there are many things in Judaism that are based on faith. Because of that, we create reasons and thoughts as well as special places that can accommodate the ideas and people of the Torah. As we reached our last stop before dinner, the madrichim began collaborating. The fire in Haifa was worse than they thought. By the time we finished hearing about Ahmadiyya Islam, three out of the four entrances to the Druze village were closed. In order to make up for that, we went all the way around Mt. Carmel. As the bus passed the beach, it seemed as if it was 430 in the afternoon when in reality it wasn't even 3. The cloud from the fire covered up the sun giving it a neon pink glow. We could see the helicopters weaving in and out, either for news reports or for humanitarian efforts. As the bus continued, I saw the actual flames and the reality of the situation hit me.
I had studied in Haifa in two years ago. I was on those mountains. I hiked through that park. My friend and I got lost in that park. I know people who live in Haifa. Who have made Aliyah and are living there. But it wasn't only that. The situation was first-hand. I wasn't hearing this from the news. I was seeing this. Natural disaster first-hand. Israel wasn't a far away country. I was here. I AM here. The only thing on the news is the fire. The only things people are talking about is the fire. When I rode the bus to work on Friday, the radio had new reports about the fire. When I walked into work, the first thing my co-worker said to me was "did you hear what happened". This is the worst fire Israel has had. A Ha'aretz reporter went as far as comparing it to the Yom Kippur War in 1973 as Israel was completely unprepared for both disasters.
Because I so involved in the situation, I can feel more empathetic than I would if I was in the US. It's not that I wouldn't feel bad if I was at home, it's just that it's that I can more easily relate to the situation because I am living here. Thus, I am a resident of Israel.
pictures of the previous few weeks
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