Sussmans b'Aretz

Just Two Little Friends in the Beginning

2012-02-08T11:40:00.010+02:00

Last night we went to the Bat Mitzvahs for Shoshana and Adina Ron.

And it was a particularly meaningful occasion for both Josh and me.

Let me take you back seven and a half years. Matan, aged four, had arrived in Israel without knowing a soul and without a word of Hebrew. In this picture, we've just gotten off of the plane, and Matan has decided to attach himself to a soldier who had come with his unit to the airport to greet our Nefesh B'Nefesh flight.

We threw Matan into 4 year old nursery school, where not a single child or teacher knew how to communicate with him.

Except two.

Shoshana and Adina.

They had also arrived during the summer and were, thankfully, in his class. It's funny to think about all of this now, because Neve Daniel had an influx of Anglo immigrants after we arrived. Virtually every class in the town now has floods of English speakers, and we have to remind our children not to speak English during the day.

But, in those days, Shoshana, Adina and Matan only had each other. The teacher, Etty, had been teaching the same class for more than 20 years, and she said that it was her first experience ever teaching children who didn't know Hebrew. And she didn't really know where to begin.

So, our children were the guinea pigs - and the teachers. We explained to Etty that she should have our kids sit near her when she reads aloud so that they can see the pictures, and we offered other hints.

And then we sort of threw the kids into the mix and hoped for the best!

After school, Matan would have play dates with Shoshana and Adina and he loved getting together with the only two other kids who understood him.

And now, here we were already celebrating their Bat Mitzvahs.

Of course, it's been years since Shoshana and Adina had anything to do with Matan (it's that boy-girl thing, you know!) and they've all developed and grown in such beautiful ways.

The girls gave their Dvrei Torah (speeches) in Hebrew, of course, and they danced all night with their gaggles of friends.

And it made me think back to those days and to three little people who had just started out on such an unknown and scary journey.

We all look at our kids and can't believe, at times, how they've grown and changed. But there is an extra element of that feeling of wonder when you've picked your child up, moved him across the world, and watched what happens.

It's amazing today to think about that little boy who knew only English, and knew only two little girls...and to see him going off today to his Bnei Akiva trip surrounded by Hebrew-speaking friends, entrenched in his life in Israel, and preparing for his upcoming Bar Mitzvah next year.

Thanks Shoshana and Adina for being there in the beginning and paving the way with Matan! And Mazal Tov!

Doorknobs! Safety! Manners?

2012-02-06T14:18:00.002+02:00

I've been told that the activities that my sons engage in when someone passes gas is universally known. (Yes, you've figured out that this is not going to be one of my more profound or tear-jerking posts.) They have a series of exclamations that include “Doorknobs!” “Safety” and something else I can’t remember. Needless to say, I have no idea what any of it means, but the kids sure do.

So, Zeli, aged all of three, has started saying it as well. He makes a noise, and then I hear, “Doorknobs! Safety!” He has no idea what he’s saying either, but he figures he’s following the trend.

A few days ago, I decided that perhaps I should actually teach him some manners and I explained to him that he should say “Excuse me” when this happens.

Here was our interaction.

Z: (Noise) “Doorknobs! Safety!”

Me: “Zeli, sweetheart. When you do that you really should say “Excuse me.” That’s the nice thing to say.”

Z: Silence. “Why?”

And then I realized that I was in a bit of a bind. If we are teaching our children that their bodies are beautiful and wonderful – why do we apologize when our body makes a noise? I don’t know that this idea has struck me in the past – but it really struck me as Zeli looked at me with the big, blue eyes, waiting for an answer. But, I figured my philosophical child-rearing thoughts would have to wait for another time. This kid needed some direction.

Me: “Um, well….because it’s just the nice thing to do.”

Z: “Hmmmm…..”

Side note here: When someone gives something to Zeli, he doesn’t just say “Thank You.” He says, “Fank You Bery Much!” with as much vigor and energy as you can imagine a three year old mustering.

So, the next day we were back in the family room.

And Zeli made a noise.

And he turned to me, got that twinkle in his eye, and said, “Exuse Me Bery Much!”

And I nearly died laughing.

Maybe doorknobs would have been better after all?

Pulling Teeth...In More Ways Than One

2012-01-30T20:52:00.005+02:00

I simply love when a common, everyday conversation turns into a great reminder for me.

A few days ago, Eliav and I ventured to the dentist for the final (hopefully!) installment of the watch-me-jump-on-the-couch-two-hours-before-leaving-for-the-airport-and-knock-out-my-tooth saga. Eliav was having his front tooth pulled, and we were visiting the dentist's office to enjoy that lovely experience.

While we were there, an acquaintance came into the office with her third grade daughter. Apparently, the little girl had managed to take the entire brunt of a recent fall at school in her mouth. She was bloody and broken, and ended up needing to have three teeth pulled (and perhaps other work). The mother was surprisingly put-together and even the daughter seemed to be less-than-hysterical.

I thought about them that evening and hoped that everything had gone well. I thought of calling to check on them...and then life took over...and I didn't.

So, today was the first time that I ran into the mom since the incident, and I asked her how everything was. We reflected on the experience and I commented that I had been impressed with how both of them handled themselves.

And she said to me, "You know what? I really underestimate my daughter. This is a child who I always see as kind of whiny and whimpy, and I was really impressed with how she handled the whole thing. And you know what's more? It really made me think. We classify our kids so much and put them in boxes and then we have to be surprised by them when they rise to the challenge."

She continued, "And I was kind of surprised with myself to realize how I underestimated my daughter. I know that teachers and other people often underestimate our kids - but for me to do so?"

She certainly had me thinking for the afternoon. I know that I give myself, and my children, only so much credit - and I make assumptions all the time about how we will all react in certain situations.

Wouldn't it be wonderful if I could always assume the best? And assume that they will rise to the challenge under most circumstances?

And assume the same of myself?

Lesson learned while picking up carpool today.