Sunday in the Park, then gorge

 Sunday morning I sure felt fine. Well, not so much. Saturday night's sleep began at 11ish and stalled out at 1:30. I fell back asleep a few hours later and then it was 10AM. I'm sure I was asleep but I have no memory of it. No proof. Pics or it didn't happen. But if you have pics, you are going to get arrested. Stop stalking me. Or don't. It's really OK.

I started walking up Bezalel and I noticed how curteous and conscientious the drivers are here. Here's an example -- I was walking past a pedestrian mall area and noticed a car on it. It was moving back and forth. Finally, it adjusted itself into a parking mode, properly behind the car in front of it which was also parked on a pedestrian mall area. 

My daily goal was to grade my papers. To that end, I was marginally successful.

Jerusalem, in terms of food options is an embarrassment of riches. I left the house expecting to get coffee, but I saw so many different places to eat that I didn't want to limit myself to coffee. But every time I saw a place I wanted to consider, I thought of any number of reasons not to. I wanted to wait and see what else was available, or maybe I didn't want to be fleishig, or I did, or I simply didn't know. I also didn't want to go some place I had been before and yet I didn't want to risk not liking the food at a new place. So I ended up at Big Apple Pizza just because. It is much easier to be lazy.

I stopped along the way to grade papers, but it was tough to focus because it was a lovely day and I hate grading papers. I saw a Seidman along the way and eventually wandered my way (I had been strolling through the shuk and all around the area) back to N+D and I availed myself of their resources (mostly a couch). Then Eyal and I both went for a walk. I, to capture and consume a dinner and he, to make sure I made it back OK. David recommended "Joseph's" and I am not one to argue with a recommendation.  We were both successful -- I got a Sloppy Joseph (that's what it is called on the menu), plus sweet potato chips, and a couple o' beers. Then back to the house for an evening of talking to family and reading.

Tomorrow, my aim is to take a public bus BY MYSELF! I'm a little nervous. Wish me luck and let's hope that my next post doesn't include words like "lost" and "Young Israel of Riyadh." More later.

Sat, you are. Day/Night

 Ah the Shabbos. A time to refresh, reflect and eat too much. Mission accomplished!

The Shabbat preparations carried us through the afternoon with people dropping by to bring stuff and others coming to avail themselves of rooms and beds. Two girls were staying (Aliza and Rina, one from Toronto and one from Dallas, both learning at a mich-something, somewhere. Huzzah). Dinner was populated by (and no, don't say this in one breath):

Swidlers (N, D, R, Y, A, N, E)

a passel of girls studying in various seminaries. By passel, I say "10, at least." Dinner was delish and the Swidlers turned into Les Mis in that there was no dialogue unless it was sung. While the eating, laughing and singing were happening, we heard noise outside and we all went quiet. Suddenly there is a knock on the door. Thirty-seven yeshiva boys came in. Perfectly reasonable. They filled the house with good cheer and oppressive wild-boy hormones. I moved to the couch. At some point two of the boys saw me sitting there avoiding everyone, so they came over to have pity on an old man. It seems that the Yeshiva on this block is a large draw from Flatbush and Magen David. A little Jewish geography was played. After more singing, the boys left and invited me to Gan Sacher. Now, maybe they were inviting the seminary girls but I prefer to think that they wanted to hang out with me. I have very shapely legs. 

Sleep thought itself muktzah so it stayed away from me. Up on Shabbos morning and to shul. Then after a really nice davening, we return for lunch. Lunch was populated by

Swidlers (N, D, E, Y, R, A, N)

Swidler parents (S+S)

Eisenbergs (Ch and Mo)

Nava's friend

Violet and her two daughters

Some guy named "Daniel" (besides me -- 2 Daniels at the table. Hilarity did not ensue)

It was Taco Shabbos (chicken, ground beef, pulled beef, rice, string beans, other veggies and a bunch of other stuff, then chocolate torte, popcorn and cookies for dessert)

Some more singing (but no descent of locusts). And then we sat and schmoozed for a while. Then back to shul for mincha and then more schmoozing.

As a change of pace, I would like to close this post with an actual dvar Torah that I came up with after hearing the Friday night vort at Kol Rinah. During that discussion, Dayan and Rabbi Rubanowitz mentioned an interesting fact -- God's name doesn't appear in much of the first chapters of the book of Exodus.

So I checked and I found that, indeed, the name of God appears sparingly. Then I noticed a detail having to do with WHICH name of God is eventually used.

The midwives, it is said, were fearful of "Elokim." They acted as they did, saving the Hebrew children because they feared Elokim. They were rewarded by Elokim. The name then disappears until a new king shows up (2:23 ish) and the people cry out to Elokim. The name Elokim is then repeated 4 more times.

What is the significance of the specific and repeated use of the name Elokim? Why didn't they cry out to Hashem (the 4 letter name)?

Elokim signifies the trait of justice of God while the 4 letter name points to mercy. When the midwives acted, they weren't afraid of the God who is merciful. They knew right from wrong and ignored the king's command because ultimate justice comes from the King, not the king. They made a decision to rely on a transcendent right and wrong and not the edict of the human person and they were rewarded for doing the right thing.

And do we think that the whole time the Jews were being oppressed they didn't pray for redemption, for saving, for something? I think they did pray, but they prayed to Hashem, asking for mercy. Was it mercy for them, or for their oppressors? I don't know, but it took until the new king arose before they finally focused their prayers on asking for justice. It was justice that heard them and justice that acted. While it is important to recognize that we must ask for mercy, at a certain point, we have to look at things and say "this just isn't right" and ask for the strict measure of Hashem's justice to set things aright. I believe that the people shied away from this and used it as a last resort because we are always afraid that if we ask Hashem for justice he will apply that same standard to us, but in this case, we were blameless so appealing for justice had no blow back on the people.

We must do what is right and stand for what is right. Then we can be assured that we will be on the right side of things when the verdict comes down because the God of Justice will reward us as he did the midwives. Right now the world is full of challenges and violence. We must make sure we stand on the side of justice and Hashem's laws so when we need Him, we can appeal to the middah of justice.

Just a thought.

I'm looking forward to tomorrow. Maybe seeing some friends, maybe taking a walk, maybe getting some mac and cheese. Who knows? The future is wide open.

Ps. I ran into 2 former students this afternoon (Akiva Goldsmith and Bella Shatzkes) and they were fun to chat with and I wish them much success. 

Time Zoning Out

Hello all. If you are wondering, no I did not sleep well. My body, even when it has been conditioned to believe that 3 in the afternoon is really 10 at night has decided that one does not need to go to sleep at 10 at night anymore. Wouldn't 3 in the morning be better? No, it will not, I respond and I consider the implications for 4 hours until I doze off enough to realize that it is 10AM somewhere and I should probably stop trying.

The less said about that, the better, so I say, in terms of sleep, "less." And since less is more, maybe I can get more sleep. I now recap Thursday.

I awoke and took some time to become human and then I went for a walk. My goals generally involved food. When I am here there are a couple of sine qua nons: Moshiko's (done), pomegranate juice, PowerWorks coffee. I found the pomegranate kiosk first (yay Etrog Man). Food goals are measured in storefront form. I ordered the super mega triple gonzo big chug which has 142 ounces of seedless in Seattle. The guy squozed the necessary crate of 'granates (I'm on a last name basis) and I waited impatiently. Eventually I dove in (it was that big). While he was squashing fruit, he tried to sell me on a cream that you put on your finger and rub under your nose and it smells like mint, lemon and ginger. This is designed to help cure sinus cloggage, migraines and scrofula. I'm not sure what scrofula is but I don't have it, so the product works! I chose not to buy it, but for the balance of the day, whenever I breathed in, I didn't have scrofula, but I smelled my own finger, and that doesn't help anyone.

People don't realize how crazy sweet good 'granate juice. In America, it isn't toot suite. I sat and savored the sweet and the sun. And the doggos. On to more walking down Ben Yehuda and back up Yaffo. I found the new location for Power Coffee works but I was too stuffed with juice to get anything. I shall save the other for another day.

Side note -- when I say that everything is uphill, clearly I am not being serious and literal. The only places that are uphill are the places to which you want to go. That's how you know you are lost. If you go downhill, you aren't going uphill so you clearly don't want to go there and ergot (sick) you are lost.

I sashayed through the shuk and saw a place called Bomba Pizza. Now, I wasn't on a pizza quest but I still felt that I needed to keep my hand in the game so I tried a slice. VERY thin crust and a sweet sauce. The flavor was good so I added garlic. I like that I can stop most anyplace for a slice, and sit on the street eating it, and then I can walk to another pizza place. That is freedom. And gluttony. I remember that my ancestors fought for my right to pizza. Twelve NIS for a slice. In real money, that's 62.71 Rand.

As I was eating, a woman walked by and said "bete'avon lecha" for no reason. I thought she would eventually ask for money, but she didn't. She was just being spontaneously nice! To me! Pizza and good will? This place rocks. 

Who knew I would be so full after a slice and a gallon plus of juice?

I noticed that many (at least 3) store names were not transliterations of English (which is annoying because I spend hours trying to understand the Hebrew, only to find that were simply taking an English word and transliterating) but had the English name with Hebrew vowel points underneath. They love English. Why not just use English then? Instead they constantly pander to "Hebrew speakers."

I got back to N+D and tried to restore non-feeling to my shins. Then, I went to pick Eyal up at the Gymnasium. In Hebrew, the G is pronounced as a G not a J. For a J, you need to have any other letter with an apostrophe. So you use a Jaled, or a Jamed or Juf. Hebrew is mystical like that. I took a benadryl to help me sleep. It failed, but I now have one fewer thing to carry. It is currently tomorrow mid-day and I have spent my morning doing a whole lot of nothing, which is as it should be. Shabbat is coming and we're so happy. I have a Nava next to me with her (she is eating apples and peanut butter, flavored with onions). Avital is making chocolate infused dough. Yoni has eaten pizza. Eyal is on his way back from another school's open house. The cookies are on the track (will anyone get that reference?) Tonight, there will be 18 people and tomorrow, 19. Natural expansion, you see.

I assume I will get back to this after Shabbat (either Sat. night or Sunday morning here). So to all of youse, I wish you whatever it is you would appreciate if I wished you.

In which I don't know what day it is

 I will now try to catch you up on the entire of yesterday leading up to today, but I shall do so without knowng exactly what day it was and/or is. The jet lag adjustment has been only middling so far so my mind is mostly in between reality zones (they are like time zones, but not for time, hence the name).

So welcome to Tues  Wednesday.  I slept fairly well and comprehensively thanks to such things as a bed and a blanket and a sleeping pill. I woke up refreshed and ready for a nap. Eventually, I realized I would need to get going so I came upstairs in time to take a nap. I saw avital as she left for school and then Eyal and I played my daily, online brain games to ensure that the zombies will get a good meal out of me. The boy also played Pips wich is like dominoes with math. I see no reason to participate in such a travesty. Math. Amirite? Eyal then made himself a breakfast of an omelet and jachnun. I aspire to have my face on the side of a jachnun box one day.

We walked to the light rail and light rode to Har Herzl (my first executive decision will be to add some sort of letter to the second syllable of his name, and maybe even introduce the Z to a T...Har Hertzel. Yeah. That works. So it shall be done! We got on the light rail and then, a few stops later, we had to get out of one car and go into a different car. I'm not sure why but I trust Eyal. He also told me I have to pay again even though we got right back on to the same train. I did because I trust Eyal. He then laughed because Simon didn't say, so I had to go sit on the side until next game. I met a former student (named Douek. When I knew him he had less beard, or possibly fewer). Then off the train and up the hill to the Yom Patuach (open house) for Yeshivat Netiv Meir, which Eyal is looking at. When I walked in with him, the security guard asked me my business there, so I said I was with the boy. Then he asked me (in Hebrew) if I was carrying a weapon. I laughed and surrendered to him because I'm not a gun carrying guy.

I walked up to the fourth floor and spoke with some people there, then I walked down to the first floor and left. I decidd to walk back -- how bad could it be as it was just 8 stops on the light rail. All I needed to do was follow the light rail back and I would save all that money on the train fare. Stickin' it to the man. That's how I walk. The flaw in the plan was that it relied on my good judgment. I should have known that it was a bad idea, simply because it was mine. I walked. It seemed a reasonable task and I even stumbled upon another place at which I wanted to speak to some poeple, so that was convenient if not tiring. (ask me about this place in person -- the front entrance was actually around the back) Then things went downhill, but only briefly because then things went back uphill. Israel is the old country. How can I tell? I recall all the stories from the old country. In those stories my elders always said that the walk somewhere was "uphill both ways." That's clearly Jerusalem. It was uphill in all directions. You went uphill only to discover that in some escherian way, you were at the bottom of another hill. And also completely lost because while bemoaning the hills you forgot to follow the tracks.

[I recall the events of one of my favorite books, "The Man Who Stole the Atlantic Ocean" in which the main character gets lost while already being lost.]

I found my way through Romema and Zichron Moshe where all sorts of people knew where they were. I onged for that sense of place and comfort so I sat on a bench and pretended to know where I was. I did this many times on my trip and I think it worked because no one came up to me and asked "are you lost?" By sheer luck and the fact the Israel is not a large country, I eventually found a street I recognized (though I had never seen it from the back) and I finished my one hour walk in a record time of two hours. [In an effort to save money, I am leaving my phone on wifi only. I figured that I could find someplace with free wifi so as to save the 12 bucks a day. My stubborness served me poorly yet again as I could not find said wifi and could not call a cab, pull up a map or play any games. Torture.]

Time for a quick turnaround during which I decked myself out in a suit, ran my fingers through my lack of hair and headed out to the number 7 bus towards First Station. Sometimes it seems that Jerusalem is a city of buses as there are so many. This was not one of those times. There weren't any buses for a while so my carefully crafted schedule was tossed into a carefully crafted trash can. Fifteen minutes later, the 7 appeared as if by driving. Along the way, I connected to the bus wifi so I was able to become nauseated more efficiently. Science! The bus worked its way through the traffic (half the streets closed, half the streets pregnant, MASH reference). We made it to First Station and I debussyed with no idea where to go to find the taxi. This was compounded by the fact that the bus drove away with my wifi. Because I needed to be in contact with the others waiting for me in the cab, I turned my phone on. But everytime a bus drove by, my phone attempted to connect to it so the roaming 4G service I was hoping for never stood a chance. It took a series of missed calls and panicked wanderings before a gentleman named Benji found me and took me through a completely unintuitive path to a parking lot that I would never have found on my own. I have always depended on the pity and competence of strangers. Into the cab and onward.

We drove through a series of side streets (in Israel, you get everywhere via detours and side streets which is why invading armies have trouble) until we arrived at Neve Ilan (Kedma). Into the wedding we went (how exciting!!!) I found me some Lauderdales, an Aunt Marci and other refugees from the US who chose to invasively colonize Palestine, appropriate its culture and force evil western values upon the peacful and indigenous cats. True fact, the plethora of cats are NOT indigenous to the area. They were brought in to get rid of the dogs. In Israel, cause and effect go from right to left. I was introduced to other people in all sorts of professions. I quickly excused myself as meeting people makes me social and I can't have that. I ate some food. There were bao buns, and Thailandian bowls of things. I also had an orange soup.

The wedding was conducted much like the in-flight safety video on El Al except instead of being in Hebrew and English, it was in English and Portuguese.  The bride's side is from Brazil, and not the one in Indiana (h/t Rafi for the research). I feel like the next time I go on an international flight, I might smash a plastic cup and shout Mazal Tov after the last announcement. I look forward to flying Air Brazil because now I will know if anyone is getting married on board.

We settled in for the chupah -- I asked Steve if I could sit on his lap but he said "take a number." The others who had asked were better looking than I so I slinked, slanked slunk away and sat on a couch next to a cat.

The order of operations at the wedding was basically what I recognized but with a twist. Dani and his parents walked first and then Dani made a Shehechyanu on the talit that he put on. Parts of the ketubah were read and translated but not the whole thing because I was told there would be no math. As soon as Dani put the ring on Bruna and said the magic words, everyone (who was so inclined to express human emotion, so not me) erupted in joy and song. I was sitting next to a cat. What more joy could there be? After the reading of the ketubah, Dani gave it to Bruna and said "harei ze ketubatech" and there was much rejoicing.

The 7 blessings were made by a variety of dignitaries, uncles and dignified uncles. Each blessing was explained in English and Brazilian (I don't know how to spell Portuguese) and then the band played on.  Then we moved into the grand room for the meal and dancing and laser light show. I ate some bread, had some falafel and skipped the appetizer (there were two options, one had pistachios and the other, kalamata olives. I am possibly allergic to the former and the latter is a crime against humanity and possibly some other species). For the main course, I chose the Asado which is Israeli for "cow." It was served on a puree but, strangely, the menu did not say "of what." I ate it. It was definitely a puree. There was also a small tomato which looked like a planet. I don't eat planets. Gotta have rules in life, friend.

At the crack of 11:15 three of us got into a taxi for the ride back. We needed to be back before I turned into a goon. The cab guy did not drop us off at First Station but instead, took each of us to our ultimate location. I got back to N+D and prepared to go to bed. First, there were a couple of phone calls to make (and answer) then, conked out.

This morning (rumor has it that today is now Thursday) I woke up at around 8 and got up to daven. Towards the end of davening I began to feel faint and sick, so I immediately got back in bed. That cured me. Two more hours of sleep is what the doctor ordered (so now I have to pay a co-pay) and now, it is already afternoon and I have yet to wake up fully. I shall persevere. Today's plan involves maybe a cup of pomegranate juice, and maybe a walk. Or both. More events as updates warrant.

Plane and Simple

So here I am. This, on any random day is probably true. But now, the here is not where the here sometimes is. I have jaunted and find myself in the Holy Land. So I will begin by catching you all up to speed. So on your marks, get set, and etc!

Six months of waiting culminated in my not being able to sleep on Sunday night because I knew that Monday, I was to get on an aeroplane and soar above the clouds and lose more sleep. After a few fitful hours, I got up and readied myself for the trip to Kennedy Airport. It used to be known as Idlewild Airport until someone said that that name was taken by La Guardia. For a while it was known as Lincoln Center but that was already taken. Eventually, they settled on Kennedy's name and we shall see if it escapes updating by our crouching tiger hidden president. Randy drove me and we followed Waze's recommendation that we drive in circles for half an hour, as that would still be faster than the Van Wyck. We arrived at terminal 4 and I wended my way through the various lines at which my bag was weighed, and counted and found the opposite of wanting. I was there early but not ridiculously so. I know this because my bag didn't come out last when I arrived!

Through the various levels of scrutiny and on my way to gate A4. I know that that particular detail doesn't matter to most people, but I write for the out-liers, the ones who know that details like "A4" make the story come alive. All you other slaggers can just deal with it. The plane (The Jerusalem of Gold) is a 787 of some sort but it looked little compared to some other jumbo jets. I caught a quick mincha in the terminal with other, likeminded Jews, and then I (as a proud member of Zone F) boarded the plane and found 35K (exit row, against the wall -- no real window to look through). The configuration was 3-3-3. I made sure, before take off to avail myself of part of a little pill that promised to knock me out for the duration of the flight. Spoiler alert, it did next to nothing. I did doze, but I was crazy cold (I think they closed the screen door, but left the actual door open to invite visitors at 40,000 feet). I used 2 blankets and had a jacket on, but I could not get cozy and warm. Add to that that "comfortable" was not in the lexicon of whoever designed the 787 and you have a recipe for a lot of sitting around and being anxious and annoyed. I did doze a bit, but on the whole, it was a wakey wakey eggs and subzero temps. Also, because this exit row was an exit row, there was a lot of extra space for me to wal around. Except I didn't want to walk around because I wanted to sleep. Fortunately, a few other families made use of the extra space to hold their constantly screaming and crying children. The kids took shifts, don't worry. The 2 year old would scream while the newborn slept, and the newborn would scream while the 2 year old was out getting smokes. Team work makes the dreams impossible.

We landed at Ben Gurion before I knew it, but after I knew it also. Xanax did have some effect. I got off at Ben Gurion and things moved nicely until I got to passport control. I arrived right at 7AM which is a shift change I think. As we waited on line, the people in the little kiosks who interview us and ask us for our social plans WHEN THEY DON'T EVEN WANT TO DATE YOU! left. New people showed up a little while later and the line had grown appreciably. I appreciated it because I didn't have to wait on it.

Then I followed signs to the train station. It was not where I left it. I had to walk out of the airport, walk down the sidewalk and then back in. The ticket cost 21 Shkalim (I had 32 in my pocket) in both English and Hebrew which I find highly suspicious. Twenty-something minutes later, I arrived at the Yirzchak Navon station (just rolls of the tongue, donit?) Then I walked to N+D's house. I schlepped my overweight baggage and my suitcase towards their house. Because of the ever changing construction, I had to use my standard method of dead reckoning, aiming at a general direction where I assumed I would find Korazin. Eventually, I found the right street and got to the house. I let myself in with the key that is hidden in the  fkjsdfh and the combination is 47267664 .  David came home a few minutes later and we chatted (I had had time to daven, don't worry). I was torn between two competing options: I could stay up, power through and make it until the evening so as to help my system to catch up, or I could take a nap which would, no doubt, further ruin my sleep patterns. So I made the obvious choice and took a nap. The nap was great but I woke up with the trifecta of confusion -- I didn't know where I was, when I was and why I was.

I went to sit in the sun which was really nice. I spoke with some local cats (not slang, for cool people...I just like talking to the strays wandering the streets. They have such a refreshing perspective. People walked by and a couple asked me (in Hebrew!) for directions. My ignorance knows no bounds so I made sure to give them the wrong information in a variety of languages that neither of us spoke.

Andi dropped by so I could transfer the Dunkin Donuts coffee and coffee mug that I transported on her behalf. Apparently, I was carrying it for a Frisch family (the Frankels?) so I can probably write the whole trip off as a business expense. If you think that that is wrong, keep it to yourself. You can't spell fraud without FU.

Yoni and I then went for a walk. He had to pick up his glasses (mishtkafreilach I think). We wandered back by way of Ben Yehuda and I stopped off at Moshikos (by law, I have to check in there within 36 hours of landing or I can be jailed I think). Dang their falafel is delicious, and it doesn't fall apart as you eat through it. But don't eat through it. It is mine. I am going to eat through it. Then, for Yoni, we went to Sam's Bagels so Yoni could explain the finer points of "mac and cheese" in Israel. I am now educated. Ask me something, I dare you.

"Mozzarella." Bam.

I saw another optical store, called "Optical Shesh Shesh". It seems to be the case that in Israel, no one cares if you have 20-20 vision. You have to have 6-6 vision. Their tests are hard.  We finished up at Sam's and headed back to the house because Yoni had to be elsewhere at elsetime. I saw Eyal briefly (he is now sitting on the couch, engrossed by a computer but hey, so am I), and then I realized it was 6:30 local time (they do time here in metric so you have to take the local time, multiply it by 2.2 and add 32. It is very complex, but that's how they do things in the second world.

The Hebrew word for students is studentim which sounds to me like Sudetenland. I don't know what to do with that realization, but there you go.

I presume that i will do little of significance this evening, but tomorrow, I will accompany Eyal as he looks at a school. Then I will return and get gussied up for the OSHIN WEDDING which is the primary reason that I felt empowered to come to Israel now.

More when more happens. Stay fresh, cheese bags.

World Hunger, My attempt to solve

 So by now most of you have heard about world hunger and realize that it is not a fun thing, the way we were promised it would be (remember the ad campaign for "World Hunger Day"? That didn't end up being so much fun, did it?) So what can we do to fix it.

Well, I sat down with my closest advisors (a small flashlight, a cup of peppermint tea and a nickel from 1949) and tried to solve this thing so that we can go back to just eating and not feeling guilt for doing so. I wanted to make use of existing food sources so as not t tax our already delicate ecosystem. I decided that we need to repurpose our surplus and turn it into a food item that can be shelf stable and tasty and which we can give to all the sad and poor people (happy poor people need not apply). Now to identify the raw materials which we have in excess of need.

Last week, in the midst of my current stage of "not wanting to make dinner but still want to eat it," a stage which has lasted for many, many years, and sees no sign of slowing down, I ordered Chinese food. My usual order is simply an order of plain chicken wings. Ironically, it is brought to me by someone who uses a car. I think that's ironic because, you know, wings. Maybe it isn't. When it arrived, it came along with a host of packets of sauces, some Chinese noodles an fortune cookies. I'm just one guy who wanted some wings. Do they think I am sharing this with the entire block? And this isn't the only time. I am saddled with a large collection of Chinese noodles, fortune cookies, Chinese mustard, Duck Sauce, soy sauce and hot sauce. Now, sure, I could drive around and hand them out to individual sad people, but I think that it would work out better if I could create something and mass-distribute it.

So I encourage all my chef type peeps, grind down the noodles and/or cookies, mix them sauces, and come up with the food that will save the world.

The rules -- you may not add any other ingredients.

What can you come up with? Please let me know and then provide an address so I can send the many, many packets and collections of crunchy things and you can feed the world. Let them know it's Chinese New Year time.

In need of an Assignment

 Right now, my 12th graders are working on a project which asks them to find a bunch of short stories and write about them. Pretty straightforward. The 10th graders are working on the Do Not Read assignment. But what larger assignment can I give the 11th grade? We are almost done reading Gatsby (that is, I'm almost done reading Gatsby to them) but how do I ask them to respond in a way that demonstrates thinking and understanding, recall and interpretation, and maybe even a touch of creativity or synthesis.

Sure, we have in-school timed writing but that limits the breadth or intensiveness of an assignment. I want to send them home with something that they can sink their teeth into when not in class, something they can keep on a back burner and return to frequently. In the olden days, I would assign a paper which had bits of different types of writing required and which allowed students to branch off from the classroom conversation and innovate ideas. Good stuff, those take-home projects.

But in the age of AI, I can no longer assume that students are doing the thinking and/or writing themselves if i don't watch them do it. Sure, in the past, I had to worry that a student was lifting bits from other papers or sources, but there were ways to deal with that. If they weren't perfect, they were good enough to balance out the threat of plagiarism so that, on the whole, the benefit to the educational process was greater than the risk of cheating to the integrity of the assessment as a whole. Now, AI has become so easy to use and so useful in terms of what it can create that even an inventive assignment can be turned into a prompt for AI. So what do I assign?

Well, what am I looking for? I'd like for students to demonstrate that they are familiar with the events, characters, historical issues and underlying themes of the text. Why? There is actually very little other than cultural literacy which drives a "need" to know this book. There is nothing in teaching it that covers a topic I can't get to elsewhere, and while I can twist it to have modern relevance, the students will see the twisting and know that it is not a natural part of understanding the book. They also know that they can get notes and summaries and even AI-generated explanations which make my entire function outdated. So what is of value to teach and assess then? Any straight ahead lit based question will not need their involvement either as a learner or test-taker.

Any creative project that is based in the book, and which isn't anchored in specific notes and experiences in the classroom (and any assignment that is will be too limited and will require spitback of classroom content) can be crafted by AI. Ask it to create a playlist with explanations, an autobiography, a lesson plan, a children's book, a travelogue, whatever. It will spit it out with a connection to whatever I am trying to teach. Art project? I don't teach art but I assume that online AI tech can draw just fine, thank you.

So what is left to assign? If I assign reading, they get a summary. If I assign a thought question, they outsource the thinking to "AI". If I ask for creativity, AI can create the final product unless someone can figure out an assignment that is academically and curricularly valid and not doable by AI. And remember, my class isn't about performance or public speaking so demanding that students read or recite something won't ensure any interaction with the base text.

If I think that there is value in understanding Gatsby (and I can quantify exactly what the value is of the experience of reading, or the themes and messages of the text) then I need a way to assess whether a student has developed ideas (or the capacity to generate and present ideas). If I don't think that Gatsby is inherently important, then I still need a clear list of skills or content information that a student needs in order for me to justify ANY text, and be able to tell student progress towards some clearly defined standard.

And I don't think that any book (qua book) can present itself as so vital that a student going through the reading experience will inevitably gain a very specific and quantifiable advantage from doing the reading. And I don't think that most students gain anything from learning how to write (as a process, that is). Most students will be able to get along using AI to write the basic texts people generate (an email, a formal letter, a summary of an idea...). So if learning to read, and think about reading, and write about reading aren't skills that will be in demand in the future, then why are we wasting time trying to figure out how to continue administering our old-fashioned curriculum.

Those students who value process over local goal will continue to do the work unbidden.  In my school, we have students in the music track. One exercise which some students must complete is to listen to and transcribe, note by note, a particular jazz solo. Now, here's the thing: the kids do it.

Sure, it has been done before so anyone could look up the completed chart. Sure, AI could probably do it for the student. But the student chooses to do it on his or her own because the exercise is clearly valid as a method to improve understanding, not just to churn out an end result. And the process WILL be vital to the student's growth because he or she WANTS it to be and will use that skill or the maturity that the struggle engenders in the future. 

Now move that to writing -- the students who value it are the ones who see that it will be useful as a means, and NOT as an end. For those students, any assignment will be the adventure and shipping it out to AI would be unfathomable.

No one assigned me to write this, but I did it because I enjoy working through an idea, balancing phrases and pacing the development of a theme. I would not use AI because then my writing would not be "me." But if I have to write something for which a different tone might be useful (not a piece of writing I am invested in) I might use AI. And if I'm going to use it, who am I to tell students not to? My assignments fall, undoubtedly, in that latter group for the majority of my students. Am I chasing a fool's goose? 

Meanwhile, I don't know what to assign my 11th graders.