Introspect Connect The Sects And Let This Music Make You Fly

After the Darfur rally in Central Park, which afforded me both the opportunity to protest genocide and the opportunity to see nearly every Jew I know who lives on the Eastern Seaboard of the United States, I sat at the Oyhoo concert at Jewzapalooza yelling SHALOM to the few Jews I had not seen at the rally and saying hello again to the ones I had.

Mr. Singer leaned over and said, "Wow, this world [referring to Jewish New York] is small."

I responded, "Yeah, and, no matter what I do, this world just gets smaller."

Then I realized what I said, corrected myself, and said, "Ha. That's not true. My life's work is making this world bigger."

Mr. Singer smiled. Widely.

And I meant it. Gather round, come in, knock tentatively, barge in, ask questions, challenge norms, but please come join me. I can see the circles that used to be concentric join together and overlap. Jump on the train. We/I/You are/am/can be moving towards a Judaism I think/know/believe will be meaningful/exciting/relevant. Not Jewish? That's cool too. Shabbos meals are yummy, and Chassids can totally jam - you will appreciate it, if even from a respectful distance. Seriously, join me.

More on the hypocrisies of modest dress in the morning . . .

It's A Long, Long, Long, Long Way

Teach Your Children Well

I attended a conference at the UN this week during which presenters spoke often about "youth," whom they designated as anyone younger than 30. Now, I know I look youthful, and I am certainly young, but I would hardly self-describe as a youth. Herein lies the problem with "youth involvement" in "adult" organizations.

When I began teaching with Summerbridge, one of my mentor teachers said, "Call them kids, and they will behave like kids. Call them students, and they will behave like students." So, I tried that. I looked at my barely 10-year-old entering 5th graders, and called them adults. I said, "You made the decision to be here. That is very adult. It is very adult to go home and do your homework. You have choices to make. Adults make good choices. You have complete control over your destiny. I am here to guide you, but I will not act for you. You will act for yourselves, and you will take responsibility for the consequences and accomplishments that result from your actions."

I never had behavior problems in that classroom. I designed an elaborate behavior system where I created a large stop sign and a Velcro nametag for each student. If someone was having a behavior problem, I would say quietly walk over to him/her, put my hand on his/her shoulder and whisper, "This is your warning." If the problem persisted, I would move the student's nametag onto the stop sign. If I had to give a third warning, the student had to go to behavior BOSS, which was Summerbridge's form of "detention" (except that it was much more constructive than detention - if a student was sent to behavior BOSS, his/her teacher met him/her there to talk about the problem and constructive solutions to the problem). I moved 2 or 3 nametags onto the stop sign the entire summer; I never sent a student to behavior BOSS.

Now, I work with college students, who I consistently and firmly refer to as students. They are not kids. They are certainly not children. They are students; they are adults. Accordingly, they place their trust in me, and I do not think they find me condescending (maybe I am wrong - I am sure one of them will comment and let me know, if I am).

And, so, to the UN and to any other organization led by those mostly over the age of 50, I say, if you want youth involvement, stop referring to us as youth. I am a person. I am one of 4 full-time staff members who run an organization. My boss, who I believe trusts me implicitly, leaves important decisions to me to make. I make good decisions. I am young, but I am not a youth. I am not some alien creature; I am a citizen of the world. While I do not claim to have the experience of many senior NGO delegates to the UN, I have plenty to offer the world - a mature, fresh, creative perspective. So do my now 16 year-old students. Call us people, and we will act like people - call us people, and we will take responsibility for our world as citizens of that world. Call us youth and you will piss us off to no end, and we will think you are out of touch, old, stuffy, and not worth collaborating with.

A Potpourri Of Thoughts

1. A few people will remember what you said. A few people will remember whether you were good looking. A few people will remember whether you were intelligent. Everyone will remember your good manners. Stand when someone older than you comes to the table. Fold your napkin on your chair when you excuse yourself from the table. Hold the door for anyone who is about to walk through - men, women, children, pregnant ladies, grandmas, grandpas. Write hand-written thank you notes. Say thank you to the bus boy who pours your water and clears your plate. Make eye contact. Develop a firm handshake. Identify yourself when you make a phone call before asking for whomever you would like to speak with.

2. Try Jasmine pearl tea. Jasmine pearls are these amazing little balls of tea that are made by hand-rolling green tea and jasmine flowers together. They smell amazing and taste delicious.

3. I need to do a better job of giving people the benefit of the doubt. Recently, I met an older woman who seemed to endlessly talk about her accomplishments, which, while many, certainly do not always make for interesting conversation when framed as stories - listing the committees on which you sit hardly makes for riveting table conversation. Well, I later found out this same woman recently lost her husband. And, so, perhaps ego played into her need to list her many accomplishments, but, really, I think that she is mostly just very lonely. Her incessant need to list her activities really represents a cry for intention - she misses having someone who gives her his undivided attention; she just wants to be heard. I decided to listen and smile, and to try to ask questions about as much as I could. This seemed to make her happy, and she started speaking less and more quietly.

It is currently the month of Elul in the Jewish calendar - the month during which [some] Jews prepare for the Yamim Noraim - the Days of Awe. Beginning on Rosh Chodesh Elul (Rosh Chodesh is the celebration of the new moon which corresponds to the beginning of the new month - Rosh Chodesh Elul is the celebration of the new moon at the beginning of the month of Elul), [some] Jews spend time doing teshuva - literally returning to G-d, repenting for the year's misdeeds - until Yom Kippur, the ultimate Day of Atonement. Traditionally, I have not acknowledged the month of Elul in this way - sure, I repent on Yom Kippur, but the idea of having one day on which I am sorry and one month in which I own up to my misdeeds seems limiting. It bugs me similarly to the way in which Mothers' Day and Fathers' Day bother me - one should celebrate one's mother and father every day. But this year I decided to give teshuva during Elul a real shot. At first, I decided I would completely abstain from talking about other people, but that proved a lofty goal, so I have decided to make my goal a little more attainable. I am trying to give people the benefit of the doubt. There are a lot of really annoying people who mean perfectly well, and, when you get to know them, they are perfectly decent people. No need to dwell on people's flaws, especially if one does not know their whole background.

To my Jewish and non-Jewish brethren and sister-en, join me this Elul. If we all give each other the benefit of the doubt for the next month, I think the world will be a slightly more peaceful place. And I, for one, could use some peace and quiet.