Iyar Top Ten

The Our Shiputzim Editorial Board proudly presents:

The Top 10 Reasons That Iyar Rates As One of the Twelve Best Months to Be Living in Israel

10) The entire country is decorated in blue and white.

9) The IDF – which, as I’ve noted before, does its very best to ensure that religious soldiers’ needs are met – automatically grants shaving exemptions for the duration of Sefirah to any soldier who so requests.

8) The shaving exemption even applies to IDF soldiers appearing on national television during the Yom HaZikaron ceremony at the Kotel.

7) In any given year, at least one of your kids is chosen to play an active role in a Yom HaZikaron/Yom HaAtzma’ut ceremony – whether in gan, school, your community, or even the army.

6) Three years after I first shared my in-laws’ incredible pictures of the Kotel in the summer of 1967, that post continues to be extremely popular - especially in the weeks leading up to Yom Yerushalayim.

5) That satisfying feeling of accomplishment you get after successfully completing yet-another Iyar Challenge (i.e. supplying each of your kids with enough white shirts to make it through the first week of Iyar).

4) The amazing seasonal music. (See, for example, Udi Davidi’s beautiful Hitna'ari (including a translation).)

3) Four words: Yom HaAtzma’ut in Israel. There’s nothing like it!

2) The way the Pesach/Yom HaShoah/Yom HaZikaron/Yom HaAtzma’ut/Yom Yerushalayim/Shavuot continuum serves as a poignant reminder that the future of the Jewish People is here in Israel, where we’re B”H privileged to have front row seats on Jewish history.

1) The newly-minted four-day Lag BaOmer weekend…

!שבת שלום ול”ג-ל”ד שמח

Tales of a Chatan Kol HaNe’arim’s wife

Warning: Although it’s now Rosh Chodesh MarCheshvan, which – according to every opinion – falls firmly within the “acharei hachagim” (literally, “after the holidays”) parameters, the following post pertains to Simchat Torah. (Hey, if Israeli gannanot can celebrate Simchat Torah after the fact, so can I…) Proceed at your own risk.

The main problem with shamelessly neglecting one’s blog is that there’s no clear protocol when it comes to resuming one’s blogging activities. Do you apologize? Pretend that you never left? Offer a long-winded explanation/excuse for your absence?

Which is why I’m just going to jump right back in with the following news item from TRLEOOB (=the real life equivalent of our blog):

YZG was our shul’s Chatan Kol HaNe’arim (i.e. CKH in OurShiputzim-speak) on Simchat Torah.

In many congregations, CKH is sold to the highest bidder. However, in our shul, the gabbaim award it to someone who is very involved in the shul and the community, and as those of you who know YZG in real life are aware, this was certainly a well-deserved honor.

Here are three things I learned in my role of CKH’s wife:

1) It seems that proper Simchat Torah etiquette teaches that both the CKH and the CKH’s wife deserve hearty “mazal tovs.” I confess that I never knew this before, but I quickly got into the swing of things and made sure to say mazal tov to the Chatan Torah, the Chatan Breishit, and their respective spouses…

2) It turns out that there’s no statute of limitations when it comes to corny CKH-related jokes. Sample groan-worthy fare: “If your husband is a chatan, that makes you a kallah! Shouldn’t you be wearing white?” {cue: canned laugh track}

3) And finally, I discovered that in our shul, the CKH’s wife is in charge of distributing candy bags to all the kids. (Fortunately, the shul covers the cost; someone else volunteered to do the shopping; and assorted neighbors helped the Shiputzim kids stuff the bags.)

Which means that within two minutes of Kol HaNe’arim’s conclusion, the CKH’s wife (that would be me in this case, for those just tuning in at home) is suddenly beset by nearly 200 (BA”H) overtired, hyped-on-sugar (in our shul, Kol HaNe’arim takes place AFTER the communal kiddush), impatient kids.

Ah, good times. Good times…

How are Chatan Kol HaNe’arim, Chatan Torah, and Chatan Breishit chosen in your communities?

Aliyah Memories: 13 years later

This week marks the 13th anniversary BA”H of our aliyah, or to put it in blogspeak, our “aliyah bar mitzvah.”

In honor of the occasion, here’s one of the Shiputzim kids singing a bar mitzvah song:

I should explain that the young singer recorded the song to send to his/her grandparents in the States – about a year or so after we made aliyah.

And on a related note, less than three months after we arrived in Israel, a different one of the Shiputzim kids dictated the following email for the same American grandparents:

November 9, 1998

Dear Bubby and Zaidy,

I'm learning about aleph in gan.

I know some Hebrew words. Like I know "bayit," and I also know "eich korim lach?" That means: what's your name? And I also know "geshem," and I also know "at rotzah lesachek?" That means: do you want to play?

Let me tell you about my gan - what order it goes in.

First, we play a little bit. Then, we daven. Then, Morah talks. [Ed. note - “Morah” literally means “teacher,” but in Israel, the gannenet is never referred to as “Morah.”] Then, sometimes, we eat lunch first, and sometimes, also we first play a game.

Then, we go back to reekooz without our chair. “Reekooz” means circle time. Then after we do reekooz, we go to eat lunch. [Ed. note – Actually, they ate “aruchat esser” – literally, the “ten o’clock meal” – not lunch.]

Then after, all the boys go outside to play in the sandbox. The girls stay inside and play with the dolls.

Then when all the boys come in, then we go to do our projects. How projects is called is “yetzeerah,” and I also know that already.

After, if it takes too long, we go to get our knapsacks. What knapsacks are called is “teek,” and I also know that already. Then we go to sit on our chairs in reekooz.

Then after we sit down, we sing songs and then we go home. First we learn a little before we sing songs. After we sing songs, we go home.

I have to go to sleep now. Good night.

Love, [CENSORED]

Have a great week!

A little consideration, please

Sadly, being a blogger isn’t always as glamorous as it seems.

I mean, on the rare occasions when we step away from our computers, we’re inevitably dismayed to discover that our online fame and fortune 4.56 NIS don’t carry the same weight in the real world.

The main problem is that, strangely enough, many people fail to take bloggers’ needs into consideration when making plans and organizing events.

Take, for example, the recent gan graduation (i.e. the mesibat siyum - מסיבת סיום – the end of year party).

After documenting the first two major dates on the gannenet’s calendar – namely, the infamous gan meeting and the Chanukah party - I’d been looking forward all year to blogging about the third one.

Indeed, the resultant post was to have been the concluding panel in my gan highlights triptych.

But when the mesibat siyum finally rolled around, all my hopes and dreams were shattered.

Because, you see, the party wasn’t amusing!

Yes, it was beautiful. Yes, it was heartwarming and emotional. Yes, the kids did a wonderful job. And yes, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house.

But funny? Absurd? Open to ridicule and mockery?

Not so much.

And so, dear readers, I must unfortunately disappoint you and regretfully announce that there will be no mesibat siyum post after all.

Which naturally begs the question: Is there any reason why the gannenet couldn’t have designed a blog-worthy program?!

Jane Austen would be so proud

By now I think we can all agree that I’d make a terrible gannenet.

I mean, my deplorable tendency to laugh at these dedicated caregivers clearly indicates that I lack the proper gravitas and solemnity required to succeed in this hallowed profession.

Yet as it turns out, my regrettable levity renders me unsuited for another job as well.

I’m speaking, of course, about a career as a gym teacher.

[This would be a perfect opportunity for me to write, “Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.” But since it’s only been five months since the last time I used this quote, I’ll have to manage without it... :-)]

You see, first, there was the whole being graded on one’s handstand thing.

And now there’s the following:

As part of the requirements for the physical fitness bagrut, the CTO’s gym teacher announced that the seniors would have to make up any gym classes they had missed.

Specifically, the teacher explained, he expected twelve minutes of nonstop walking for every missed lesson.

Note that we’re not talking about high-speed power walking. In fact, a gentle, slow-paced stroll or even a relaxed saunter was deemed to be more than sufficient.

Now, as it so happened, the CTO had somehow missed five gym lessons* this year and thus owed the gym teacher an hour of walking.

In practical terms, this meant that - under the gym teacher’s benevolent yet watchful eye - the CTO and some of his friends spent 24 minutes yesterday and an additional 36 minutes today taking leisurely turns about the perimeter of their yeshiva’s basketball court.

It was like a scene straight out of Pride and Prejudice – except that it took place outdoors rather than in an elegantly-appointed drawing room, and the amblers wore kippot and tzitzit in lieu of high-waisted Empire dresses…

__________

*I’m told that one of the CTO’s classmates missed 14 lessons this year and therefore had to walk for almost three hours! :-)

Festive Friday: Postponed Party Edition

I’ve made no secret of the fact that Israeli gannenets and their unique foibles and idiosyncrasies amuse me to no end.

But just when I think I’ve seen it all, those crafty gannenets find yet another way to make me laugh.

Here’s what happened:

As parents of autumn babies are well-aware, gan birthday parties are never held during the first two or three months of the school year.

After all, each of the country’s gannenets has a different set of birthday songs and rites, and it takes time to teach all the particulars to the children.

Moreover, at the beginning of the year, the gannenets are busy focusing on Rosh Hashanah and the other Tishrei festivals, and so they don’t have time for birthday parties.

Hence, children who were born in September, October, and even November are forced to wait for their celebrations.

Yet, in theory, during the rest of the school year, the parties are scheduled on or about the actual birthdates. (Except, of course, for children born in the summer, whose parties are crammed into the final weeks of the school year. But I digress…)

Now, as it so happened, a certain gannenet went on maternity leave just before Rosh Chodesh Adar.

And her substitute announced that because of Purim and Pesach, she would have no time to deal with any birthday parties during the months of Adar and Nissan.

Therefore, she explained to the bemused parents and children, she was imposing a moratorium on birthday parties until after Pesach.

But when the kids returned to gan after vacation, the substitute gannenet apologetically extended the moratorium for an additional two weeks.

You see, she felt that she had not yet mastered all the minutiae of birthday parties in this particular gan, and so she first wanted to conduct a trial run.

In practical terms, this meant that two dolls were feted by the children, as the substitute gannenet took copious notes.

And when the mock-party was over, she formally revoked the moratorium, and then, the first real birthday party in a very long time was held – in all its ritualistic glory – this morning.

Happy delayed birthday to ACGAC* and the two other celebrants!

I should note that there was originally supposed to have been a fourth celebrant. However, one little boy refused to participate. He said that since his actual birthday was so long ago, he was now totally over it.

Apparently, a career as a gannenet isn’t in this little boy’s future…

!שבת שלום ומבורך

__________

*ACGAC=a certain gan age child of my acquaintance

A seasonal Chanukah party

The kids were adorable; the performance was beautiful; and the mothers surreptitiously shed a few tears.

But nevertheless, in many respects, the recent gan Chanukah party was rather disappointing.

I mean, consider the following flagrant breaches of gan Chanukah party protocol:

1) In stark contrast to last year’s paean to pyromania, this year’s party was surprisingly free of fire hazards. The requisite purple lights and their electrical cords were well out of the kids’ reach, and the gannenets lit the chanukiyah themselves. Moreover, they used tea lights rather than glass jars filled with olive oil, and they blew out the flames a minute or two later. (More on this chanukiyah below.)

2) Although the gannenets dutifully obeyed the edict from on high that gan must be dismissed early on the day of the Chanukah party, the kids were sent home at the relatively civilized hour of 12:00 – rather than at the more typical but highly inconvenient 11:00.

3) The party actually started more or less on time and ended a mere 1¼ hours after it started.

4) Many of the classic elements were missing, including the Giant Dreidel Piñata, the Building a Chanukiyah Out of Wooden Blocks, and the Joint Parent-Child Arts & Crafts Project.

5) Very few of the kids are eldest children. Thus, there was only one (1) pushy mother blocking everyone else as she attempted to video her precious offspring from every. single. angle.

And yet, in spite of these egregious lapses, the Gan Party of 5770 does have one claim to fame.

In years to come, it will surely be remembered as the only Chanukah celebration to feature a… tinsel-festooned chanukiyah:

“We wish you a merry, er, Chanukah…”

At least he said “please”…

This past Shabbat (Parshat Lech Lecha), a certain gan-age child of my acquaintance (ACGAC) was telling us about the parsha.

Brief digression: As usual, most – if not all – of what ACGAC said was based on the Midrash, rather than the pshat. I sometimes wonder if preschool teachers should be placing more emphasis on the actual text. What do you think? </Digression>

Anyway, everyone at the table enjoyed the presentation. To the gannenet’s credit, ACGAC had been taught well and had much to say.

And although the handful of charming errors and adorable Heblishisms elicited a couple of hastily suppressed giggles, for the most part, everyone was dutifully trying to hide their amusement from the young speaker.

But then ACGAC reached the part in the story where Avraham is thrown into the kivshan ha’esh (the “fiery furnace”).

At that point, most of those in attendance burst out laughing, while the more restrained members of ACGAC’s audience attempted - with varying degrees of success - to wipe the broad smiles off their faces.

You see, according to ACGAC, Nimrod politely asked Avraham’s father, Terach:

“Will you please give me your baby so I can kill him?”

The calm, matter-of-fact tone in which ACGAC said this line brought the house down…

Gannenet Appreciation Day

Warning: This post may exceed the recommended daily allowance of snarkiness. Proceed at your own risk.

****

The thing about Israeli gannenets is that it’s very easy to make fun of them, and as long time readers know, I’ve taken ample advantage of this convenient fact.

Indeed, I’ve frequently mocked discussed with obvious love and affection gannenets’ many foibles and idiosyncrasies – including their pyromaniac tendencies, the ritualistic pageantry of gan birthday parties, and, of course, the bizarre gan meeting.

And so, it’s only fair that I also give them credit where it’s due – namely, their innate resourcefulness.

You see, their creative, never-say-die attitude is what enables them to erect straw men identify pressing problems and then skillfully knock them down devise clever and original solutions.

Here are two examples:

I. The neglected holiday

Problem: Coming, as it does, at the tail end of the festival-laden month of Tishrei, Simchat Torah always gets short shrift in most curricula.

Solution: Gannenets don’t even try to cover Simchat Torah before the holiday. Instead, they use the “hakafot shniyot” model and throw a big party on Friday, Erev Parshat Breishit. Decked out in their most elegant kacholavan, the kids dance, sing, and imbibe inordinate amounts of candy.

Ahh, good times, good times…

II. The missing season

Problem: In a recent post, Mother in Israel discussed autumn in Israel – or the lack thereof. As she correctly observes, there’s no real transition between summer and winter. Furthermore, aside from a few noted exceptions, the traditional signs of fall – i.e. the brilliant foliage, that crisp autumn air, etc. - simply don’t exist here in Israel.

Solution: Israeli gannenets teach that autumn in Israel is nonetheless significant, because it heralds the arrival of the… nachlieli (white wagtail).

The gannenets ensure that their young charges are very familiar with the distinctive, long-tailed, black-and-white bird. In fact, even as adults, Israelis of every stripe can still easily pick the nachlieli out of a bird lineup.

Moreover, the gannenets stress, seeing a nachlieli is a joyous and momentous occasion.

Thus, last week, a certain gan-age child of my acquaintance came home bursting with exciting news. The breathless report soon followed: They had gone on a siyur stav (literally, “an autumn tour” – i.e. a nature walk), and – guess what?! – they SAW TWO NACHLIELIS!!! (Space considerations prevent me from including the full complement of exclamation points, but I think you get the general idea…)

And so, dear readers, the next time an obscure blogger sets his or her sights on the much maligned and often misunderstood gannenet, please refer them to this post in order to provide them with further ammunition to remind them to appreciate all that the gannenet has to offer…

P.S. On a serious note, I’d like to take this opportunity to thank the incredibly dedicated and talented gannenets who have done – and continue to do - such a wonderful job educating the Shiputzim children over the years.

A never ending source of amusement

What’s funnier than the world’s top comedy clubs?

Four words:

The annual gan meeting.

Yes, you read that correctly. The meeting where the gannenet tells the parents about all her plans for the coming year is – as far as I’m concerned – a great place to go to enjoy a good chuckle.

After all, consider the following:

• The gan meeting is the third most important date on the gannenet’s calendar. (The first two are the Chanukah party and the end-of-the-year graduation party.)
• Even though it’s only a preschool meeting – and, really, how much is there to talk about?! - the gannenet takes the gathering very, very, VERY seriously.
• In fact, the gannenet spends three days preparing the kids for the big event (a la the Shloshet Yemei Hagbalah). She has the kids make an arts and crafts project for their parents’ benefit, and although they’re  not even going to be there, the kids are encouraged to think that nothing could be more exciting than having their parents visit the gan.
• The gannenet gets all dressed up for the occasion – including makeup, shaitel (if she’s so inclined), etc.
• Assuming that the sayat (aide) knows her place,  she also wears nice clothes, but as befitting her station, she’s careful not to overshadow the gannenet.
• When the parents arrive, the gannenet proudly shows them their kids’ artwork. The parents are then required to figure out which project was made by their own offspring. (“Hmm. Maybe this one on the right is my son’s? If I hold my head to one side and squint, that squiggle over there kinda looks like the first letter of his name…”)
• The parents are then given art supplies and asked to prepare a project as a surprise for the kids. (No, I’m DEFINITELY not kidding about this one…)
• While the parents sit there coloring, stringing beads, and gluing (!!), the gannenet talks about the gan. (Of course, she could’ve just typed all this information up on 1-2 sheets of paper, but then she wouldn’t have had an excuse for the meeting…)
• Finally, there are always refreshments. And we’re not talking about a plate of stale Bamba either. For instance, at a recent meeting, each parent received a fresh chocolate croissant and a bag of chocolate milk.

See what I mean?

But before you go check out one of these never-ending sources of amusement, I should warn you that it’s very bad form to use the words “enjoyable” and “gan meeting” in the same sentence.

Indeed, it’s de rigueur to insist that they’re boring, inconvenient, completely unnecessary, and a total waste of time.

All of which is quite true.

And yet… and yet…

{swallows hard and gets up the courage to make a confession}

These meetings always make me laugh.

{glares defiantly at all the shocked faces}

I can’t help it. They’re just so ridiculously, absurdly, and hysterically funny…

Prepare for the Day of Reckoning

A while ago, my friend Mother in Israel posted a pair of posts about popular Israeli names. If you’re an expectant parent, I suggest that you check out the comment sections for many beautiful naming ideas.

Yet, at the same time, I must warn you that the Day of Reckoning will surely come.

You see - assuming that you’re planning on making aliyah or that you’ve done so already – someday, you just may find yourself sitting in your child’s gan, celebrating his or her birthday.

And now is the time to start preparing for that.

I should begin by noting that Israeli ganenets (nursery teachers) take birthday parties to a level unimagined in the US. Indeed, having been (ba”h) to a fair number of both, I can say that American nursery and kindergarten birthday parties don’t hold a candle (no pun intended) to their Israeli counterparts.

Israeli ganenets have a whole slew of birthday songs, games and rituals at their disposal, and it seems that each year, they come up with new ones.

But one thing never changes.

At some point in the festivities, the other children in the gan bestow brachot (blessings) on the birthday child. These brachot range from the sublime (“may you see the Beit HaMikdash and the Kohein Gadol”) to the adorable (“may your mother have a new baby”); and from the spiritual (“may you ascend the rungs of the Torah”) to the material (“may you be healthy”).

And then comes the mother’s turn.

Inevitably, the mother is asked to give her own brachah, to share a story about the child, and… to discuss the origin of the child’s name.

Yes, you have to do this in Hebrew. Yes, the ganenets and all the other kids are listening. Yes, usually 2-3 kids celebrate their birthdays together, and so there are some other mothers listening to you as well.

And no, you can’t just say, “we liked the name.”

If you’re lucky and your child was named after someone, you can talk about that person and how your child is continuing in his or her footsteps.

But otherwise, you’re going to have to be creative.

For instance, you can link your child’s name to the parsha/haftara of the week s/he was born, the season, or upcoming festivals. You can explain what the name means and how it fits your child. You can talk about your child’s Biblical or Talmudic namesakes. You can cite an obscure Midrash or resort to Gematria.

All it takes is advanced planning and thinking, and you’ll be fine. So, I recommend that you start early.

Like the day you bring the baby home from the hospital.

Or, you can wait until the morning of your child’s three-year-old birthday and then hope to somehow wing it.

But don’t say that I didn’t warn you…

Channeling her inner pyromaniac

As a rule, Israeli ganenets have never met a fire hazard they didn’t like.

Whether it’s the ubiquitous ooltra with the electric cord lying right where the kids can trip on it or the sparklers which the kids are supposed to hold at their birthday parties (!!), these ganenets do everything in their power to show their disdain for basic fire safety.

But at this evening’s Chanukah party, the ganenet took things to a whole new level.

The performance began innocently enough. Each child was given an oversized wooden block covered in gold paper, and they then built a giant chanukiyah out of the blocks.

Now, before any of you interrupt and say that “Building a Chanukiyah Out of Wooden Blocks” is a standard element of gan parties (along with the Giant Draidel Piñata), let me explain that this chanukiyah was different.

Instead of placing the blocks on the floor in a single layer, the kids built up. In other words, the chanukiyah was over a meter high. And since the blocks were not uniformly sized, the top layer was far from level.

When the kids were finished, the ganenet put nine (i.e. 8 plus 1 for the shamash) glass bottles each filled with water, olive oil, and floating wicks – on top of the very rickety, wooden structure*.

She then lit the “candles”, and the kids stood around and waved colored paper streamers not too far from the dancing flames.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who was nervous, because one of the kids shouted out, “Zeh me’od mesukan!” (“That’s very dangerous!”)

Yet the ganenet merely smiled.

She knew that the laws of physics don’t apply when it comes to gan parties…

_______

* Sorry, no pictures. Our camera’s battery died soon after I arrived at the party.

Chatting with ENG: Education edition

You’ll all be glad to hear that in spite of the pre-bar mitzvah tumult here in TRLEOOB, ENG is not neglecting her studies. The following conversation took place this morning as ENG was getting was ready for gan:

ENG: Imma?

Me: Yes?

ENG: Now we’re learning about Chanukah in gan, but before that we learned about water.

Me: Hmm.

ENG: It gets used up.

Me: What?

ENG: The water. It gets used up.

Me: I see.

ENG: And before we learned about water, we learned about something else.

Me: Oh?

ENG: But I don’t know what it’s called…

Ooltra cool

A fairly common feature of Israeli children's hofa’ot (performances) is the way overused fresh and original ultraviolet light.

Typically, the young performers don black clothes and put white socks on their hands and shoeless feet. Upon occasion, the kids will then add white belts or scarves to complete the look.

The overhead lights are turned off, and – with the “purple light” shining on the stage – the captive audience proud and loving parents watch as disembodied white blobs dance in unison before them.

Over the years, I’ve been privileged to see countless renditions of this routine - especially in honor of Chodesh Irgun and also at Chanukah parties in gan.

But it was only today that I learned that an ultraviolet light is known as an ooltra in Hebrew.

And what about the dance itself? According to one of my favorite Heblish-speakers, it’s referred to as “doing an ooltra.” (Sample sentence: “For our rikud (dance), we’re going to do an ooltra.”)