Tuesday, November 29, 2011

A real fear I have

If you were to pull over a random teen ager and ask him about the history of the United States, you might (and I stress, might) hear mention of the fourth of July. In fact, if you started by asking that teen ager about the significance of July 4th, odds are, you would hear about fireworks, cook outs and maybe a day off from work for the parents. The idea that the United States has a "birthday" is difficult to connect to. It brings up the notion that the US could possibly not exist, that it did not exist at some point. For the random teen ager, this is a difficult idea. The aspect of the day which commemorates struggle and freedom from tyranny is lost among car sales and the All Star game. Well, it has been over 230 years, so I guess, after a while, existence is such an understood thing that the anniversary stops being an anniversary and takes on its own identity simply as celebration. Is this such a bad thing? I don't know. But I saw a parallel case this morning which scared me.

I work in a Jewish school. Not that the school is Jewish -- do you want to try and find where on a building to perform a circumcision? but that the school has a curriculum which includes religious education and stresses Zionism. This morning, we announced to students that the 29th of November marks the anniversary of the vote to partition the British mandate and create a Jewish state. Sixty-four years ago, Jews world-wide were huddled around radios in breathless anticipation of the fulfillment of a dream, maybe a prophecy, or at least an historic promise.

In the quiet conversation which broke out after the announcement in school, I heard a student ask "Who cares?"

The State of Israel is not 230 years old. It is not a super power. The idea of its nonexistence is not difficult to absorb -- it hasn't existed for much longer than it has existed. That the random teenager, who shouldn't be so random -- he has chosen to come to this school which should mean that he has a connection to Israel (or at least that we have inculcated such a connection if we have done our job), doesn't care to mark the moment when his own grandparents gained an aspect of their identity, is disheartening, and even frightening. We have no fireworks today. We have no cook outs or ball games. This anniversary has not been supplanted by some other form of expression which, at least in some way, sets the day apart. No, this student is simply happy to walk away from this date and expect that the state will be there for him when he decides to take a vacation and drop a few bucks at a tourist trap. But once we forget how we got here, what anchor do we have which will help us continue to exist?

8 comments:

  1. This random teenager has actually probably not chosen to come to this school. His parents have probably made the decision for him, and he, growing up in an insular community, has not really been given the space to contemplate, of his own volition, an alternative education.

    Perhaps if he is asking "who cares?" then his educators haven't been very... good. Or was this boy supposed to have been born understanding the significance of the existence of the State of Israel?

    Maybe he has lousy ties with his family. Maybe he has decided that for him, the history of his family should not dictate his own personal future.

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  2. There are certainly many "maybe"'s here. But this signals multiple failings. Failings by the parents, the community, the educators, and the child, himself (and possibly the State of Israel and its PR department).

    What I have seen too often are those students who have the "who cares" attitude but when Israel doesn't have what they want, when they want it, they get indignant. It bespeaks a lack of awareness at least, and an ego centrism according to the more cynical.

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  3. If it is indeed multiple failings... what do you do about that?

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  4. That's a great question. But it speaks to both a local and a general problem. Maybe it means that in relation to my own children, I stress from a younger age the miracle of the modern state and teach the history of it so that my children don't take it for granted. Maybe it means that on the 4th of July I ask them to take a break and think about what might have happened had the Brits kicked our collective butts in 1776, or if anyone else had at any point since. Maybe it means stopping glorifying a consumerist attitude in our commemoration of important calendar moments and taking the time to point out what the real meaning of any particular day is.

    So on the local scale, sure, I can try to inculcate values in my own kids through that subtle and constant system so that they don't know they are being preached to, only that certain attitudes and expectations are the norm. But on the larger scale, how can I mitigate the failures? In the classroom, I can try to push the agenda of awareness. On the curricular level (as effective as any curricular initiative is) I can try to help set up programs which stress connection on the level of existentialism and not travel-friendliness. I can be an example (FWIW) of what I think a good way to be, is.

    And, of course, I can blog about it, so that if one person thinks about this, and maybe changes a behavior or is more self-aware of an approach, this might spread to another, and maybe another.

    This failure took at least a generation. Can we expect that, absent a major military shift which threatens Israel's existence, the disaffected youth will stand up and take notice any more quickly?

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  5. So you admit you are preaching to your children?

    An honest question: in a hypothetical situation, you had to give your children up for adoption right after they were born. They were taken into non-Jewish families and never taught about their biological family, never taught about their heritage or religion. How Jewish would they be? By Jewish law, they would be Jewish. But without knowledge of it, what does it mean? If they would not have learned about God from you, would they have naturally gravitated towards the Jewish religion?

    What if human beings existed and acted withOUT preconceived resolutions/conclusions of how things must be? I am Jewish, so I must _____. What about, I am Human, so, the world is open to me. Does it make sense to tell your child: I gave birth to you, this is your history, and this is how you are expected to live the rest of your life...? Where is the room for honest exploration of the world? The self?

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  6. I absolutely preach to my children (if that is a word you are comfortable with). I preach to them as a parent about hygiene, I preach about how they should treat their friends, I preach to them about those things which I value and wish for them to value as well. I want them to know how to use a fork, wear clothes and keep a budget. And, yes, one thing I value is my religion so by raising them in a religious household with a religious context, I am, I guess "preaching." A child isn't left to his own devices -- any responsible parent "preaches" by modeling a certain way of living and imparting lessons about how to live. If my children were not brought up Jewish, I don't expect they would naturally gravitate towards religion, and if they were brought up without rules, they wouldn't naturally clean their rooms or eat healthfully. They wouldn't say "I am human so I must have vitamin B12." It takes someone who is looking out for them to educate them and ensure that they get enough B12 because the preconceived notion is of demonstrated value within that parent's schema.

    Do you really want to raise a child with no place in the world, no heritage, no historical, medical, technological background and let the child flounder around and have "honest exploration"? Don't tell your child that a certain plant is poisonous. Let the child have some honest exploration and you can consider whether that course made sense while you wait in the ER.

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  7. Obviously you wouldn't give birth to the child, leave it on the floor, walk away and say, 'well, good luck.'

    You can preach... or you can teach, show, illustrate. Offer options, but not brainwash a certain bias into their head.

    Do you really equate religion with nutrition? The human body naturally craves what it is deficient in. They may not think, "I need vitamin B12" but they may think, "An orange would be tops right about now."

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  8. In a sense, I do equate religion with nutrition. I feel that, for example, circumcision is necessary for a Jewish child's soul's health the way a doctor might insist that a shot is good for the body. All parenting has an aspect of brainwashing -- we teach our children a particular view of the world (cross at the green, not in between, don't talk to strangers, education is important, 2+2=4). People seem annoyed that one thing I am brainwashing my children about is a belief system, and yet no one is bothered that I have taught, conditioned and reinforced my children to believe that cleaning their room is an expectation. When I preach "values and ethics" everyone nods. But if I say that the values and ethics are derived from a divine aspect, suddenly, that's bad and the kids should think for themselves.

    My children will grow up with all sorts of biases that I have implanted. They will have developed a hatred for insensitivity, and a bias against theft, plus a leaning towards organic foods. On top of that, they will have a bias towards (I hope) religion. Just another aspect of my raising them.

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