Since I lifted off from the Holy Land on February 23th, life
has definitely been a whirlwind on what I affectionately like to refer to as
“My Whirlwind North American Tour” (sounds snazzy, huh?). From New York
City to Boston to Detroit (to Toronto for an impromptu drop-in in my
hometown, then back to Detroit for work on Monday!) – it’s definitely been
an intense ride.
No hoards of fans or seas of camera flashes, no VIP status
or personal dressing rooms, instead my “tour” has been filled with appearances
at every Jewish Day School in the Boston area, finding kosher snacks to pack
for my plane rides, and an every-growing stack of long-distance charges on my
phone bill.
Yes, it’s a lot less glitz, but a lot more growth.
And I’m channeling my “inner actress” not towards the end of
making Steven Spielberg’s latest script come alive, but instead to making theTorah come
alive – classic and timeless, always a best-seller.
I came into this experience the way I do with every other
big project – cramming like a maniac before I go, needing to be completely
prepared, which obviously never works out anyway. But I was especially
anxious about something that had been plaguing me throughout this year,
something which my exceptionally kind and patient teaching coach(shout-out
Susan Yammer) definitely got an earful of during every one of our coaching
meetings – that when it came to teaching, I was just not creative. Not creative
at all.
Being creatively-challenged for me felt the same as standing
at the foot of a massive, towering mountain that I just could not climb over,
with no way around it. Now usually, I’m a fantastic mountain-climber; agile,
focused, blessed with good balance, and I always have the right shoes for the
mission. But for years, in every teaching context I’ve ever been in – be it
student teaching at a Jewish high school as part of my Bachelors of Education
degree, or running Shabbat programming for little kids at my shul, this
mountain loomed in front of me for every lesson plan. And no matter what, I
felt like I just couldn’t find a way to overcome it. Then, during our week-long
conference at Hebrew College, my whole teaching world got flipped upside down
in one single-handed sweep.
In one single line of timeless advice from President of
Hebrew College Prof. Danny Lehmann,
I was given all I ever needed to overcame that towering mountain.
We were sitting around the conference table at a break from
our seminar, and I was probably griping about this handicap. It was right after
I davened Mincha (=prayed the afternoon prayer), in a little nook I found
in the hallway of Hebrew College, right outside our classroom. Now davening for
me, truly, is my cherished jewel. Each time, it is an incredibly powerful and
cherished spiritual experience – my imagination takes me on a journey through
each individual bracha, visualizing each one as it comes to life in full
colour and sparkles, a whole other beautiful world behind my eyelids. And in
that world of prayer, my imagination reigns Queen. So Prof. Lehmann simply
said, in response to my gripe: “Just teach the way you daven”.
“Teach the way you daven”. What a chiddish.
Since that moment, here at Frankel Jewish Academy in West
Bloomfield Detroit, that’s exactly what I’ve been doing – from oodles of
construction paper to colorful Wiki worksheets to home-made video assignments,
my imagination has found a new territory to reign Queen. Maybe, because a lot
of davening goes into those lesson plans, too. And now, standing in
full-fledged Wonderwoman pose on the top of that towering mountain, my creative
juices are endlessly flowing, just looking for outlets and lessons to create,
and I couldn’t feel more alive than when I am teaching. I am so in my
element, and I am so incredibly happy.
Thank you, Prof. Lehmann, for changing my classroom.
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