Lately, there's been a lot of talk about "geek is chic." Comic book movies are coming out at least once a year, shows like Dr. Who and the Big Bang Theory have sizeable followings, and computers are as much a part of life as televisions once were. Geek culture appears to be in.
But what of the geeks themselves?
Being a geek has never been about specific fandoms or about black-rimmed glasses. Star Wars may have been a geek obsession as a sci-fi movie, but it was also the highest-grossing film for its time. I doubt it was because a handful of kids in glasses and calculator watches saw it over and over again. True geekery is about single-minded drive. It's about latching onto something and pursuing for its own sake. And that drive is something that our culture doesn't always appreciate.
As an example, let's look at a subject that is poorly understood and somewhat maligned--mathematics. Since I started studying mathematics, I've noticed that the response I get from non-math people when I bring up what I'm studying is similar to the response I would get from introducing a two-headed garden snake--revulsion mingled with awe that I would even go near such a thing. Sad, really. Hidden Figures may have been nominated for Best Picture, but I doubt that enrollment in math departments and calculus classes will go up as a result. (The class I took with the highest attrition rate was Calculus 2). Similarly, with computer programming. Last semester, I took an intro course in computer programming. Out of a class of 30, maybe half turned up for the final. Most people dropped out because it was "too hard."
Our culture loves the end result of geekery more than the geeks themselves. We love programmers for giving us apps and games for our phones. Does that mean that we would want to talk to an actual programmer about languages and debugging techniques? Sheldon Cooper is abrasive and obnoxious. He's also a Caltech engineer who makes a buttload of money. How many of my readers laugh at his antics? How many of us want a real Sheldon Cooper in our lives? We love us some Game of Thrones, but we also call George R. R. Martin a "fat fuck" when he can't get the next volume out fast enough to satisfy our curiosity. (And let's be honest here. How many Game of Thrones fans actually heard of A Song of Ice and Fire before the show came out?)
What we love about "geek culture" is when something is so well done that it goes mainstream. Because with it comes status and money--the two things geeks don't really care about when choosing an interest. Sure, we may want our manga to sell. Internet videographers would love to be the next Nostalgia Critic. But only so that we can support ourselves doing what we love. Anyone who pursues a field solely to "get rich" with find the work a disappointing slog. And those who have been successful only were because their passion made the product special enough to be appreciated. And that passion may create some of the greatest works and theories in history, but it doesn't make for scintillating coffee klatch conversation.
Showing posts with label conformity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label conformity. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 28, 2017
Monday, December 30, 2013
What did I sign up for--Disposable children
The Things are now 7 and 5, respectively. They may grouse a bit about Shabbos, but they still keep it. They go to yeshiva, daven when they're told to daven, learn the parsha, and follow the Torah. They're little kids. Going OTD is not really an issue at this point.
Fast forward ten years.
I am picturing Thing 1, who wants with every fiber of her being to be a professional actress. How will she react if she is given a part that demands a Friday-night performance? What about Thing 2, who was born with a mind of her own and a penchant for bending the rules? What will happen if one of my children turns out to be gay? What will I do if they decide to go OTD?
I'll tell you what I will not do. I will never abandon them.
One of the big selling points in kiruv is Judaism's strong family values. I have questioned this for years, seeing the widespread institutionalization of young children, educational neglect, silent children, and kids knocking on strangers' doors doing fundraising without adult supervision. However, this article in the Mishpacha made my hair stand up on end.
The article referenced a rabbi in Israel that takes in young OTD girls tossed out by their parents. A kind act, true, but why are teenagers being turned out at all? Because the parents are ashamed? The child (and make no mistake--15 and 16 year-olds are still children) is trying to grow and define herself. Sometimes, this takes on forms that parents disagree with. That's typical adolescence. However, putting one's own children out on the street is not only atypical, it is abusive. Moreover, it is counterproductive. Odds are, once a child is tossed out, that child will never come back. Not to the parents, and not to Yiddishkeit.
As parents, it is our job to put our children first. Our own feelings, our egos, others' opinions--all are secondary. No family should ever throw away their children. No parent should ever pray for a child's death. No parent should ever deliberately put a child at risk of harm, whether through starvation, physical attack, or sleeping in the street. And no one should ever tell a confused teenager that "she brought it on herself."
Our children are gifts from G-d. They are not disposable!
Fast forward ten years.
I am picturing Thing 1, who wants with every fiber of her being to be a professional actress. How will she react if she is given a part that demands a Friday-night performance? What about Thing 2, who was born with a mind of her own and a penchant for bending the rules? What will happen if one of my children turns out to be gay? What will I do if they decide to go OTD?
I'll tell you what I will not do. I will never abandon them.
One of the big selling points in kiruv is Judaism's strong family values. I have questioned this for years, seeing the widespread institutionalization of young children, educational neglect, silent children, and kids knocking on strangers' doors doing fundraising without adult supervision. However, this article in the Mishpacha made my hair stand up on end.
The article referenced a rabbi in Israel that takes in young OTD girls tossed out by their parents. A kind act, true, but why are teenagers being turned out at all? Because the parents are ashamed? The child (and make no mistake--15 and 16 year-olds are still children) is trying to grow and define herself. Sometimes, this takes on forms that parents disagree with. That's typical adolescence. However, putting one's own children out on the street is not only atypical, it is abusive. Moreover, it is counterproductive. Odds are, once a child is tossed out, that child will never come back. Not to the parents, and not to Yiddishkeit.
As parents, it is our job to put our children first. Our own feelings, our egos, others' opinions--all are secondary. No family should ever throw away their children. No parent should ever pray for a child's death. No parent should ever deliberately put a child at risk of harm, whether through starvation, physical attack, or sleeping in the street. And no one should ever tell a confused teenager that "she brought it on herself."
Our children are gifts from G-d. They are not disposable!
Thursday, July 18, 2013
Of dead rebbes and living "Gedolim"
Question: Why are Lubavitch and Breslov so popular with baalei teshuvah?
Answer: Their rebbes are dead.
In case you're thinking that I have a sick sense of humor, here's my logic. Both Nachman of Breslov and Menachem Mendel Schneerson live on in their writings and in the stories told about them by their Hasidim. And, needless to say, these stories tend to skew very positive. After all, who is going to say that their late, great Grand Rebbe is a schmuck? And, since they are deceased, none of their actions can belie their reputations. Unlike say, Satmar or Bobov, where the movement has split along which of Reb Yoelish's or Rabbi Halberstam's descendants is actually the true Rebbe, and which is the wannabe (isn't this what split the Church into Catholic and Eastern Orthodox factions?), or Skver, where the Rebbe may or may not have sent his houseboy to burn a guy's house down (this actually happened), all we have to go off of are memories. And acharei mos kedoshim, these memories tend to emphasize what a nice guy these rebbes were.
Lest you think I am needlessly picking on Hasidim, I have to say that the Litvish are no better. In fact they are often worse. Far, far worse. Fail to toe the party line, whether you are Dov Lipman or Avi Weiss, and you find yourself on the receiving end of wrath bordering on excommunication. The roshei yeshiva are quick to cast out the "other," even if this "other" includes their own colleagues. At least the Hasidim, who have central leadership, tend to leave other Jews alone.
Answer: Their rebbes are dead.
In case you're thinking that I have a sick sense of humor, here's my logic. Both Nachman of Breslov and Menachem Mendel Schneerson live on in their writings and in the stories told about them by their Hasidim. And, needless to say, these stories tend to skew very positive. After all, who is going to say that their late, great Grand Rebbe is a schmuck? And, since they are deceased, none of their actions can belie their reputations. Unlike say, Satmar or Bobov, where the movement has split along which of Reb Yoelish's or Rabbi Halberstam's descendants is actually the true Rebbe, and which is the wannabe (isn't this what split the Church into Catholic and Eastern Orthodox factions?), or Skver, where the Rebbe may or may not have sent his houseboy to burn a guy's house down (this actually happened), all we have to go off of are memories. And acharei mos kedoshim, these memories tend to emphasize what a nice guy these rebbes were.
Lest you think I am needlessly picking on Hasidim, I have to say that the Litvish are no better. In fact they are often worse. Far, far worse. Fail to toe the party line, whether you are Dov Lipman or Avi Weiss, and you find yourself on the receiving end of wrath bordering on excommunication. The roshei yeshiva are quick to cast out the "other," even if this "other" includes their own colleagues. At least the Hasidim, who have central leadership, tend to leave other Jews alone.
Monday, April 8, 2013
When are you too old?
Today, I got a call from Giant Bais Yaakov. At first I thought they would want to schedule an interview. Not so much. Apparently, the director was concerned that Thing 1 (who, by the way, is all of SIX YEARS OLD) has never been to school. These are the answers I would have given if I were less of a lady. (FTR, I was exceedingly polite. Even Emily Post would have marveled at my restraint in the face of her rudeness.)
"Your kids are homeschooled?" (asked in a tone of abject horror)
Yes, we have three heads and leprosy.
"Nobody in Boro Park homeschools their kids."
You mean, all this time, I've been searching for a secret cabal of homeschoolers in Boro Park that DOES NOT IN FACT EXIST? I'm shocked, shocked!
"Why would you homeschool your kids?"
To keep them away from people like you. Middos, my tuches.
Then, she grills me on my background. Of course, I don't come from Boro Park. Of course, I'm a BT. Surprisingly, Builder is not. Yes, I teach them limudei kodesh. Then she tells me that it's "too late for my kids."
Huh?
Apparently, Thing 1 should have started school four years ago. Even Thing 2, who is entering Pre-1a, or what the rest of the world calls kindergarten (in other words, still very young), is too old to enter school. It seems that they would rather not deal with children who are transitioning into school for the first time. They want kids who are already used to the routine. Otherwise, they are "improperly socialized." (There's that word again. Just once, I would like to see a school put more focus on academics.)
However, I should still fill out an application and come in for an interview. Looks like BYOD all over again.
"Your kids are homeschooled?" (asked in a tone of abject horror)
Yes, we have three heads and leprosy.
"Nobody in Boro Park homeschools their kids."
You mean, all this time, I've been searching for a secret cabal of homeschoolers in Boro Park that DOES NOT IN FACT EXIST? I'm shocked, shocked!
"Why would you homeschool your kids?"
To keep them away from people like you. Middos, my tuches.
Then, she grills me on my background. Of course, I don't come from Boro Park. Of course, I'm a BT. Surprisingly, Builder is not. Yes, I teach them limudei kodesh. Then she tells me that it's "too late for my kids."
Huh?
Apparently, Thing 1 should have started school four years ago. Even Thing 2, who is entering Pre-1a, or what the rest of the world calls kindergarten (in other words, still very young), is too old to enter school. It seems that they would rather not deal with children who are transitioning into school for the first time. They want kids who are already used to the routine. Otherwise, they are "improperly socialized." (There's that word again. Just once, I would like to see a school put more focus on academics.)
However, I should still fill out an application and come in for an interview. Looks like BYOD all over again.
Monday, March 18, 2013
At least try to care about education
Once again, Builder has pressured me into submitting an application to Giant Bais Yaakov. I fill it in, because--I don't want to lie about my past. Any problematic questions, such as my last name, I left blank. Let Builder do the lying. I want no part of it. Meanwhile, the questions are laughable.
Mother's elementary school? (Why, unless this is a blatant attempt at screening for BTs. Besides, I thought we were supposed to be on a higher spiritual level.) Shul where father davens on Shabbos? (Because of course, a respectable Jewish mother is too busy with her ever-expanding family to attend shul--not to mention if you do go, you might actually--gasp--hold by the eruv! Mechallel Shabbos!) Summer residence? (It's the same as my winter residence. And my spring residence. And my fall residence.) Grandparent's names and contact info? (Should I send you to the cemetery where Builder's parents are buried? Or to my secular-and-makes-no-bones-about-it Queen Mom, who has told me that she wants to write into her will that none of her inheritance is to go to a religious institution?) Do you own a VCR? (1995 called--they want their application back.)
However, I noticed the absence of one question I consider of utmost importance--current school performance.
On every private school known to mankind, no application is complete without a request for current and past grades. Just one line, like "All applicants for second grade or higher, please attach a copy of the student's last report card." Or a transcript request form to send to the child's current school. Or something to show that you give a damn about academic performance. (For the record, the state makes me keep and submit records about Thing 1's progress--records which I would happily provide to any school that asks.)
This, of course, combined with the pattern of obfuscation I have observed, makes me wonder if education is even the goal.
Should Builder force the issue, they will go. However, this does not mean I stop homeschooling. As far as I'm concerned, the place is a babysitting service and a means to give Builder the illusion of normalcy. Meanwhile, I will happily continue teaching my kids at home.
Mother's elementary school? (Why, unless this is a blatant attempt at screening for BTs. Besides, I thought we were supposed to be on a higher spiritual level.) Shul where father davens on Shabbos? (Because of course, a respectable Jewish mother is too busy with her ever-expanding family to attend shul--not to mention if you do go, you might actually--gasp--hold by the eruv! Mechallel Shabbos!) Summer residence? (It's the same as my winter residence. And my spring residence. And my fall residence.) Grandparent's names and contact info? (Should I send you to the cemetery where Builder's parents are buried? Or to my secular-and-makes-no-bones-about-it Queen Mom, who has told me that she wants to write into her will that none of her inheritance is to go to a religious institution?) Do you own a VCR? (1995 called--they want their application back.)
However, I noticed the absence of one question I consider of utmost importance--current school performance.
On every private school known to mankind, no application is complete without a request for current and past grades. Just one line, like "All applicants for second grade or higher, please attach a copy of the student's last report card." Or a transcript request form to send to the child's current school. Or something to show that you give a damn about academic performance. (For the record, the state makes me keep and submit records about Thing 1's progress--records which I would happily provide to any school that asks.)
This, of course, combined with the pattern of obfuscation I have observed, makes me wonder if education is even the goal.
Should Builder force the issue, they will go. However, this does not mean I stop homeschooling. As far as I'm concerned, the place is a babysitting service and a means to give Builder the illusion of normalcy. Meanwhile, I will happily continue teaching my kids at home.
Sunday, March 3, 2013
Bais Yaakov of Sheker
Recently, Builder brought home an application for Giant Bais Yaakov. The biggest one on Brooklyn, if not the US and/or the world. And, true to form, I balked. Then I read the application. And I balked again.
First problem is what I call the "BT screen." The application asks for information about where the parents attended elementary school, high school, and yeshiva or seminary. The purpose, of course, is to weed out evil BTs like me who went to the dread public school. And of course, none of the nine schools I attended were Jewish schools at all. Builder wanted me to fudge my answers and list cities only. I don't think so.
Then came the bottom of the application. "Do you have any of the following: VCR? TV? Internet?" In the most technical sense, we're two for three, since the VCR has gone the way of the manual typewriter. However, we do have the other two, and the Things have limited access to both.
The solution, in the mind of Builder? Lie. All the other parents do it.
Excuse me while I run out of the room screaming.
OK, back now.
So, let me get this straight. In order to send one's children to an institution of Torah learning, you're going to lie. You're going to violate the Torah so your kids can learn it. That makes no bloody sense. Either you believe in the Torah, and live it by example, and prioritize your children's Torah education, or you don't. If you would violate a commandment etched in stone by the hand of G-d, why bother with the yeshiva? The Torah your children learn will be an empty shell.
First problem is what I call the "BT screen." The application asks for information about where the parents attended elementary school, high school, and yeshiva or seminary. The purpose, of course, is to weed out evil BTs like me who went to the dread public school. And of course, none of the nine schools I attended were Jewish schools at all. Builder wanted me to fudge my answers and list cities only. I don't think so.
Then came the bottom of the application. "Do you have any of the following: VCR? TV? Internet?" In the most technical sense, we're two for three, since the VCR has gone the way of the manual typewriter. However, we do have the other two, and the Things have limited access to both.
The solution, in the mind of Builder? Lie. All the other parents do it.
Excuse me while I run out of the room screaming.
OK, back now.
So, let me get this straight. In order to send one's children to an institution of Torah learning, you're going to lie. You're going to violate the Torah so your kids can learn it. That makes no bloody sense. Either you believe in the Torah, and live it by example, and prioritize your children's Torah education, or you don't. If you would violate a commandment etched in stone by the hand of G-d, why bother with the yeshiva? The Torah your children learn will be an empty shell.
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
On the subject of weddings
Last night, I went to the wedding of my niece's daughter. (Did I mention that I have a "May-December" marriage?) What made this wedding sort of unique was that it was at the same hall Builder and I used for our wedding, Ateres Gashmius (again, all names have been changed to protect the guilty.) The wedding was...a wedding. No big surprise. Take standard wedding formula, plug in bride and groom, and there you are. Same halls, same snowbeast dress, tiara from Claire's Accessories and pancake makeup, same flowers, same food, same music. Same circle dancing to "Od Yeshama" played about 100 decibels over the tolerance of the human ear.
However, since the wedding was at Ateres Gashmius, it got me thinking about my own wedding.
Builder and I got engaged Erev Rosh Hashanah. The vort was Motzai Shabbos Chol Hamoed Sukkos. The event itself was the fourth night of Chanukah. That means I had ten weeks to prepare. Normally, a bride given only ten weeks would be in panic mode. How do I deal with all the details? However, when it became clear that my input was not required nor even particularly wanted, I ceased caring about the details. Moreover, it became clear that this wedding was more for Builder's benefit than mine (it didn't help that only five people showed up from my side.) So, my job was literally put on the dress and show up. And, even the dress was "something borrowed." As a result, I remember very little about my own wedding, except the sea of faces, most of them I didn't know and would never see again.
Had I been able to work my will, several things would have been different. For one, the wedding would have been much smaller--I would have only invited family and a few close friends. It would have been outdoors--say Prospect Park or maybe even Central Park. Set up a nicely decorated chuppah, maybe made with appliques or painted fabric in a clearing, and let the trees act as a natural mechitza. My gown would have been my own creation--maybe an Empire waist with an overskirt of lace, Regency puffed sleeves ending in a wide flare. And it certainly would not have been in December--both the dead of winter and the height of tourist season in NYC. As for the music, I would have gone more romantic and less raucous--say "Strangers In The Night," "The Way You Look Tonight," or some other romantic standard (Although, since no bandleader sings anything remotely secular, it was kind of a blessing that I didn't get those. Sinatra standards as instrumentals sound too much like elevator music. Besides, what makes the song is that famous Sinatra voice. Le sigh.) Even something classical would have been nicer.
However, I did have some say in some matters. I got to order purple yarmulkes for those guests who didn't have any. I did get to make my own veil (flower wreath, not glitzy tiara). I walked down the aisle to Pachelbel's Canon. And I did get to order the flowers--although the florist looked at me as though I was speaking ancient Sanskrit when I said I wanted something between Court of King Arthur and Lord of the Rings.
Well, one down, two more to go this winter. Now to order some fabric so my girls have something to wear besides their fundie jumpers to the next one.
However, since the wedding was at Ateres Gashmius, it got me thinking about my own wedding.
Builder and I got engaged Erev Rosh Hashanah. The vort was Motzai Shabbos Chol Hamoed Sukkos. The event itself was the fourth night of Chanukah. That means I had ten weeks to prepare. Normally, a bride given only ten weeks would be in panic mode. How do I deal with all the details? However, when it became clear that my input was not required nor even particularly wanted, I ceased caring about the details. Moreover, it became clear that this wedding was more for Builder's benefit than mine (it didn't help that only five people showed up from my side.) So, my job was literally put on the dress and show up. And, even the dress was "something borrowed." As a result, I remember very little about my own wedding, except the sea of faces, most of them I didn't know and would never see again.
Had I been able to work my will, several things would have been different. For one, the wedding would have been much smaller--I would have only invited family and a few close friends. It would have been outdoors--say Prospect Park or maybe even Central Park. Set up a nicely decorated chuppah, maybe made with appliques or painted fabric in a clearing, and let the trees act as a natural mechitza. My gown would have been my own creation--maybe an Empire waist with an overskirt of lace, Regency puffed sleeves ending in a wide flare. And it certainly would not have been in December--both the dead of winter and the height of tourist season in NYC. As for the music, I would have gone more romantic and less raucous--say "Strangers In The Night," "The Way You Look Tonight," or some other romantic standard (Although, since no bandleader sings anything remotely secular, it was kind of a blessing that I didn't get those. Sinatra standards as instrumentals sound too much like elevator music. Besides, what makes the song is that famous Sinatra voice. Le sigh.) Even something classical would have been nicer.
However, I did have some say in some matters. I got to order purple yarmulkes for those guests who didn't have any. I did get to make my own veil (flower wreath, not glitzy tiara). I walked down the aisle to Pachelbel's Canon. And I did get to order the flowers--although the florist looked at me as though I was speaking ancient Sanskrit when I said I wanted something between Court of King Arthur and Lord of the Rings.
Well, one down, two more to go this winter. Now to order some fabric so my girls have something to wear besides their fundie jumpers to the next one.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
What did I sign up for--Yeshiva snobbery.
Normally, I don't buy women's service magazines, whether secular or frum. I'd rather curl up with a good book, or a sefer. However, when I'd heard that Mishpacha's Family First had an article about a little girl that had been rejected from six different nursery schools, my curiosity got the better of me. The author had supposedly done everything right. Both she and her husband had grown up frum, and the little girl had gone to playgroup. However, the schools were rejecting her over things like the school the author had attended, or her driver's license, or the way she looked, or other outright snobbery. (Reminded me of my Bais Yaakov of Doom experience.)
Then I got to thinking.
The child in question is two years old. TWO! She has no academic record or test scores. I doubt she could spell her own name yet. And yet, because of lifestyle choices that had nothing to do with her, she was rejected six times, sight unseen. Now, of course, most parents think their kids are the greatest. However, a nursery school should only be thinking of admitting kids until they are full. (In all fairness, one class was already full between siblings and legacies before enrollment opened--but that's one out of 6. That's 16.6 percent!) Have we finally come to the point where we dance attendance on a school's whims? Where they are in control? Where details about a person's childhood or lifestyle are more important than educating our children?
Why do we have yeshivas? I always thought it was to impart Torah values to our children. Builder insists that it's the best environment for our kids to learn good middos. However, unless we change our attitude, the only benefit to a yeshiva education will be a notch in the belt--and that won't really play out too well with Hashem.
(BTW--the magazine included an article about homeschooling--for parents who want to avoid this craziness.)
Then I got to thinking.
The child in question is two years old. TWO! She has no academic record or test scores. I doubt she could spell her own name yet. And yet, because of lifestyle choices that had nothing to do with her, she was rejected six times, sight unseen. Now, of course, most parents think their kids are the greatest. However, a nursery school should only be thinking of admitting kids until they are full. (In all fairness, one class was already full between siblings and legacies before enrollment opened--but that's one out of 6. That's 16.6 percent!) Have we finally come to the point where we dance attendance on a school's whims? Where they are in control? Where details about a person's childhood or lifestyle are more important than educating our children?
Why do we have yeshivas? I always thought it was to impart Torah values to our children. Builder insists that it's the best environment for our kids to learn good middos. However, unless we change our attitude, the only benefit to a yeshiva education will be a notch in the belt--and that won't really play out too well with Hashem.
(BTW--the magazine included an article about homeschooling--for parents who want to avoid this craziness.)
Saturday, August 11, 2012
A successful first week in "mommy school."
Well, on Friday, we finished up our first week. Thing 1 can identify all her numbers up to 100, read lessons 26-30 in her McGuffey Reader, and started maps of the eastern US with the city of Boston (we read about John Winthrop) and a map of the Middle East showing Ur and Haran (we also started reading about the life of Avraham). She also learned five Hebrew prefixes and did a chapter in her Hebrew language textbook. She filled in the names of the continents on a blackline map of the world and drew a narration from Old Mother West Wind. We also did a pencil drawing, learned how to thread a needle, drew a sparrow for nature study, and mastered two simple songs for the piano. Meanwhile Thing 2 is mastering the aleph-bet and matching lowercase and uppercase letters (I love free file folder games). She also built Mat Man with her "wood" pieces, drew flowers that looked more like lollipops, and practiced writing the number 1.
Builder has been monitoring our progress, and is happy that the girls are learning. However, he wishes that we were more like the mainstream. However, Sarah Schenirer was so far outside the mainstream that when she came into a town to establish a Bais Yaakov, people would throw rocks at her. I think it all goes back to what's more important--conforming, or doing what's right. And, judging by the title of this blog, it's easy to see where my priorities lie.
Builder has been monitoring our progress, and is happy that the girls are learning. However, he wishes that we were more like the mainstream. However, Sarah Schenirer was so far outside the mainstream that when she came into a town to establish a Bais Yaakov, people would throw rocks at her. I think it all goes back to what's more important--conforming, or doing what's right. And, judging by the title of this blog, it's easy to see where my priorities lie.
Monday, July 16, 2012
It's more than socialization
Recently, Queen Mom had an idea. Why not take the Things upstate for a week, rent a bungalow in a colony, and then, instead of just hanging out there, going out and doing all the fun, woodsy, outdoorsy stuff we want to do with them? Go hiking, find a stable and go riding, maybe even do some fishing? Sounds good to me. Last night, I saw an ad for a bungalow that could be rented by the week. When I called up, Builder whispered "Ask about the people who stay there? Are they Satmar, Skvere, Modern?" So, I asked.
"What school do your kids go to?" Seriously. This was the woman's response.
Obviously, no one knows what to do with the homeschooled kids, but who knew? Who knew that everything about you and your compatibility with others could be defined by Bais Yaakov vs. Prospect?
Personally, I hate pigeonholing. When I was in San Diego, I hated people pigeonholing me on the basis of my age and marital status. So what? After 21, age ceases to matter unless you're cheese. And as for marital status, I've seen people get married at 18, and I've seen them get married at 80. It says nothing about the person. So, just because I'm single and 22, I can be written off as a kid? I hated it then. I still hate it.
Now, the only pigeonholing seems to be in the form of which bus you ride in the morning. (Or, don't ride, hehehe.) However, it can be determined, according to a total stranger, that I would or would not be a good fit because of something so insignificant as a school choice? What if I lived in a place where there was only one school? What then?
But this points to an even bigger problem. There are too many wedges in the frum world as it is. If we can get to apoint where we tell people "If you're not X, don't bother coming here," then we've already lost. We're still living out the Churban. And it will replay, again and again, unless we change our attitude.
Just a little something for the Three Weeks.
"What school do your kids go to?" Seriously. This was the woman's response.
Obviously, no one knows what to do with the homeschooled kids, but who knew? Who knew that everything about you and your compatibility with others could be defined by Bais Yaakov vs. Prospect?
Personally, I hate pigeonholing. When I was in San Diego, I hated people pigeonholing me on the basis of my age and marital status. So what? After 21, age ceases to matter unless you're cheese. And as for marital status, I've seen people get married at 18, and I've seen them get married at 80. It says nothing about the person. So, just because I'm single and 22, I can be written off as a kid? I hated it then. I still hate it.
Now, the only pigeonholing seems to be in the form of which bus you ride in the morning. (Or, don't ride, hehehe.) However, it can be determined, according to a total stranger, that I would or would not be a good fit because of something so insignificant as a school choice? What if I lived in a place where there was only one school? What then?
But this points to an even bigger problem. There are too many wedges in the frum world as it is. If we can get to apoint where we tell people "If you're not X, don't bother coming here," then we've already lost. We're still living out the Churban. And it will replay, again and again, unless we change our attitude.
Just a little something for the Three Weeks.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
But I'm the Democrat!
Recently, I had a discussion about the role that welfare payments plays in modern-day Orthodox life. Apparently, some families start signing up for "programs" like Section 8 and food stamps before the ink is dry on their wedding pictures. Some couples even go as far as not getting state marriage certificates. That way, they can be "single mothers" legally.
The irony of course, is that many of these families will denigrate the "sch******s" who supposedly utilize these programs. (For the record, the Boro Park WIC office has most of the minorities present BEHIND the desks. The nice ladies with the shaitels and the designer strollers--are getting benefits.) When questioned about this, the answer is always the same--"Why not use it? It's there."
Simple. These programs were designed to be TEMPORARY aid to people needing to stay on their feet during a financial crisis. They were not meant to be a way of life. Moreover, anyone with any pride would try to avoid these programs altogether, and, if forced on by necessity (it's a bad economy right now, and many people need these benefits to survive) try to get off of them as quickly as possible.
For the record, before I was married, I worked full-time and lived on my paycheck. Sort of. If you call a converted shed for an apartment and a tin-can on wheels "living." However, it never crossed my mind to attempt to even get food stamps. Maybe I just had too much pride, but I would rather live within my means, even if it meant skipping the more than occasional meal, than accept government handouts.
The irony of course, is that many of those on these "programs" are dyed-in-the-wool Republicans. However, I am a lifelong Democrat.
The irony of course, is that many of these families will denigrate the "sch******s" who supposedly utilize these programs. (For the record, the Boro Park WIC office has most of the minorities present BEHIND the desks. The nice ladies with the shaitels and the designer strollers--are getting benefits.) When questioned about this, the answer is always the same--"Why not use it? It's there."
Simple. These programs were designed to be TEMPORARY aid to people needing to stay on their feet during a financial crisis. They were not meant to be a way of life. Moreover, anyone with any pride would try to avoid these programs altogether, and, if forced on by necessity (it's a bad economy right now, and many people need these benefits to survive) try to get off of them as quickly as possible.
For the record, before I was married, I worked full-time and lived on my paycheck. Sort of. If you call a converted shed for an apartment and a tin-can on wheels "living." However, it never crossed my mind to attempt to even get food stamps. Maybe I just had too much pride, but I would rather live within my means, even if it meant skipping the more than occasional meal, than accept government handouts.
The irony of course, is that many of those on these "programs" are dyed-in-the-wool Republicans. However, I am a lifelong Democrat.
Friday, June 15, 2012
Poverty? Could've fooled me!
Recently, the UJA released a study that said that Jews in NYC (and that includes Westchester and Long Island, but not Rockland County or New Jersey)are more likely to be either Orthodox or non-denominational. Also, the the number of Jewish households is getting poorer, with 45% of Chasidim with incomes below 150% of the national poverty line (and since the poverty line is based on taking the cost of a subsistence diet and multiplying it by three, that's REALLY poor.)
You'd never know by living here.
Seven kids in private school from 2-18 is not poor. A stay-at-home mom isn't poor. Summer camp, especially sleepaway camp, for large families isn't poor. A $50,000 wedding for your daughter isn't poor. Owning property in the NYC metro area isn't poor. A closetful of silver isn't poor. A seven-inch-tall fur hat and a $3,000 hairpiece isn't poor. Imported clothes and shoes for a growing family isn't poor. Weekly cleaning help isn't poor. Something does not add up.
Now, I will admit to having some of these accoutrements (Builder has a friend in the shaitel business, so my shaitels were bought wholesale, and I haven't purchased a new one since I was first married. We homeschool the kids, only use camp for one month each year, and Builder wouldn't be caught dead in a shtreimel. As for the rest, I plead the Fifth. But we don't cry poverty to Uncle Sam.)
You'd never know by living here.
Seven kids in private school from 2-18 is not poor. A stay-at-home mom isn't poor. Summer camp, especially sleepaway camp, for large families isn't poor. A $50,000 wedding for your daughter isn't poor. Owning property in the NYC metro area isn't poor. A closetful of silver isn't poor. A seven-inch-tall fur hat and a $3,000 hairpiece isn't poor. Imported clothes and shoes for a growing family isn't poor. Weekly cleaning help isn't poor. Something does not add up.
Now, I will admit to having some of these accoutrements (Builder has a friend in the shaitel business, so my shaitels were bought wholesale, and I haven't purchased a new one since I was first married. We homeschool the kids, only use camp for one month each year, and Builder wouldn't be caught dead in a shtreimel. As for the rest, I plead the Fifth. But we don't cry poverty to Uncle Sam.)
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
The irony of being tifrosh min hatzibur
Lately, Ive been thinking a lot about why I stay. I have a list of disagreements with the frum community--the bigotry, the arrogance, the materialism, the sheer unsustainability of the kollel lifestyle, the shoddy, overpriced workmanship (Builder excluded--he's an amazing contractor!), the Balkanization along sectarian lines...so, why I am still here?
Simply put, because these issues affect me on a very intellectual level. For the most part, everyone I've run across--my in-laws, my neighbors, my former landlord, the people in the various shuls I've davened in--have been very nice and accepting towards me. So, I've learned to smile a lot and keep the controversial topics for the blog.
And therein lies the irony. I am separating myself from a community made up of very nice people. True, I may fundamentally disagree with them on many levels, but as long as I wear the costume and keep my remarks non-committal, I can find acceptance.
For the most part.
To be continued...
Simply put, because these issues affect me on a very intellectual level. For the most part, everyone I've run across--my in-laws, my neighbors, my former landlord, the people in the various shuls I've davened in--have been very nice and accepting towards me. So, I've learned to smile a lot and keep the controversial topics for the blog.
And therein lies the irony. I am separating myself from a community made up of very nice people. True, I may fundamentally disagree with them on many levels, but as long as I wear the costume and keep my remarks non-committal, I can find acceptance.
For the most part.
To be continued...
Friday, May 11, 2012
A true gadol hador
Rav Shteinman was presented with a question--a mechanech in a yeshiva had a parent with two boys enrolled in the school. The father was about to get married to a woman who was more "open" and wanted to enroll her children in his kids' school. The school was concerned that these kids would have a negative impact on the entire student body. Here is Rav Shteinman chewing them out but good!!!!!
Thursday, May 3, 2012
What does "Al tifrosh min hatzibur" mean?
Over Shabbos, Builder and I have been learning Pirkei Avos. (Yes, Builder is progressive enough to want to learn with his WIFE!) This being Chapter 2 (Perek Bet), we came to the famous line, "Al tifrosh min hatzibur." "Do not separate yourself from the community." And, surprise surprise, the inspiration for this blog title.
But what does that mean? Does it mean simply that an individual should march in lockstep with the rest of the Jewish army, swallowing down every chumrah, every Torah interpretation, no matter how far-fetched? Or does it mean that we, the Jewish people as a whole, must not seek to wall ourselves off from the wider community?
In my opinion, the latter holds true.
Of late, we've become so obsessed with maintaining some bizarre idea of "kedusha" that we've forgotten how to treat people. We shun those who are different, even through no fault of their own. We look for differences as minor as type of head cover, color of shirt, or style of eyeglasses. Our homes are virtual clones of one another. We track our children into paths that we chose for them, regardless of their own aptitudes. And we are quick to cast out those who are different.
Somehow, I don't think that's what G-d intended.
But what does that mean? Does it mean simply that an individual should march in lockstep with the rest of the Jewish army, swallowing down every chumrah, every Torah interpretation, no matter how far-fetched? Or does it mean that we, the Jewish people as a whole, must not seek to wall ourselves off from the wider community?
In my opinion, the latter holds true.
Of late, we've become so obsessed with maintaining some bizarre idea of "kedusha" that we've forgotten how to treat people. We shun those who are different, even through no fault of their own. We look for differences as minor as type of head cover, color of shirt, or style of eyeglasses. Our homes are virtual clones of one another. We track our children into paths that we chose for them, regardless of their own aptitudes. And we are quick to cast out those who are different.
Somehow, I don't think that's what G-d intended.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Silent children
When Thing 1 was about a year old, and at her well-baby check-up, her pediatrician heard her babbling and chatting away (her spoken vocabulary at 18 months was well over 100 words), and said to me, "I can tell you talk to your baby."
"Of course. Aren't you...supposed to?"
As my kids got older, I noticed a very large difference between them and the other kids on the block. While my two would talk to anyone and everyone, their little friends...didn't. In fact, it was almost creepy to be surrounded by children who didn't talk. (Of course, they could talk--they just didn't talk to anyone outside the family.) I even once saw a four-year-old cry without making a sound. My heart broke that a kid that young was too inhibited to cry aloud.
My two were little chatterboxes with everyone, from their peers to our Shabbos guests, most of whom are 60-something bachelors. It was almost a relief to take my kids to homeschool get-togethers because I was once again around exuberant, chatty kids.
And then, my friend AriSparkles put it into perspective. She told me that she was surprised that I allowed Thing 2 to talk away when there were other adults present. (At three, Thing 2 is constantly talking and asking questions. She wants to be heard, to the point where she'll cover your mouth and say "Be quiet!" when she wants to be heard.) Apparently, there are families that take "children should be seen and not heard" to an extreme.
To be honest, this scares me. I am raising two girls who I hope will grow into strong, independent women. I want them to express themselves. I want them to inquire about the world around them. I want them to speak up when something is wrong. I want them to feel like they are part of the household and the conversation. Of course, I want them to learn the rules of polite society. I want them to learn to wait their turn, to say "please," "thank you," and "excuse me." I want them not to talk over people. But I am not raising silent children.
"Of course. Aren't you...supposed to?"
As my kids got older, I noticed a very large difference between them and the other kids on the block. While my two would talk to anyone and everyone, their little friends...didn't. In fact, it was almost creepy to be surrounded by children who didn't talk. (Of course, they could talk--they just didn't talk to anyone outside the family.) I even once saw a four-year-old cry without making a sound. My heart broke that a kid that young was too inhibited to cry aloud.
My two were little chatterboxes with everyone, from their peers to our Shabbos guests, most of whom are 60-something bachelors. It was almost a relief to take my kids to homeschool get-togethers because I was once again around exuberant, chatty kids.
And then, my friend AriSparkles put it into perspective. She told me that she was surprised that I allowed Thing 2 to talk away when there were other adults present. (At three, Thing 2 is constantly talking and asking questions. She wants to be heard, to the point where she'll cover your mouth and say "Be quiet!" when she wants to be heard.) Apparently, there are families that take "children should be seen and not heard" to an extreme.
To be honest, this scares me. I am raising two girls who I hope will grow into strong, independent women. I want them to express themselves. I want them to inquire about the world around them. I want them to speak up when something is wrong. I want them to feel like they are part of the household and the conversation. Of course, I want them to learn the rules of polite society. I want them to learn to wait their turn, to say "please," "thank you," and "excuse me." I want them not to talk over people. But I am not raising silent children.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Does it take a village, or does the village take over?
Back when she was a first lady, Secretary of State Hillary Clinton said "It takes a village to raise a child." I have to wonder if the village is taking over raising our children?
Today, I saw my neighbor outside with two of his kids, looking like he was waiting for a school bus. I asked which of his kids he was waiting for. He answered with the name of his three-year-old. This left me confused, as I know that this particular family does not start their children in school until the age of four. My neighbor then explained that the school made him enroll his son. He said that the school was now enforcing nursery enrollment because the kids were better behaved as they got older.
I could not believe this. This school, where the boy in question's older brother is a student, made them enroll their son at the ripe old age of three? This means that they invoked in loco parentis on a child that was
Yet another reason to avoid the madness!
Today, I saw my neighbor outside with two of his kids, looking like he was waiting for a school bus. I asked which of his kids he was waiting for. He answered with the name of his three-year-old. This left me confused, as I know that this particular family does not start their children in school until the age of four. My neighbor then explained that the school made him enroll his son. He said that the school was now enforcing nursery enrollment because the kids were better behaved as they got older.
I could not believe this. This school, where the boy in question's older brother is a student, made them enroll their son at the ripe old age of three? This means that they invoked in loco parentis on a child that was
- not a student
- well below compulsory attendance age (in this state, children do not have to start school until the age of six, and there is no mandatory kindergarten.).
Yet another reason to avoid the madness!
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Conformity and principles
Over the Purim seudah, at my sister-in-law's house, I managed to cut back on the ribbing by sticking to two subjects--the weather and my health. (It takes all the fun out of trying to get a rise out of me when I only smile and answer, "Lovely weather we're having, isn't it?") Thank you, George Bernard Shaw.
And then Builder opened his mouth. He announced to everyone that he could get the Things into Prospect Park Yeshiva without even an interview because he knew people. "Oh, yeah, that's a great idea! It's a wonderful school! Your kids would do so well there!" Sure, it's a wonderful school--an hour away! I'd never get to see the Things at all, except to rush them through homework and dinner. Not to mention the twenty grand in school fees that I'd rather spend on museum memberships, trips to see that there's a world outside of Flatbush, and real literature rather than the frummie books with no discernible plot! (OK, vent over!)
So, I responded that I would continue to homeschool the Things as long as they enjoyed it. Now, my family can't really argue with that. They can't get into academics, because my kids are where they should be, if not beyond. They can't get into "socialization", because the Things are so polite and well-spoken. So, they fell back on their last resort. "It Just Isn't Done!" "Frum people don't homeschool their kids! Nobody does that! Your kids will be Different!"
Really? This is your best shot? Because, the last time I checked, I really don't give a damn.
See, if I cared about "what Just Isn't Done!" I'd have started wearing heavy make-up, using foul language, and smoking when I was thirteen. Because eschewing those activities, while continuing to read the classics, Just Isn't Done! When I was fifteen, I would have stayed in public school. Because running off to boarding school a thousand miles away, and dropping out a year later to homeschool myself Just Isn't Done! When I was in college, I would have spent more time attending raves than classes. Because caring about my grades when I was eighteen Just Isn't Done! When I was an adult, I'd have stayed in the Conservative movement. Because moving from hard-core Conservative to full-on Orthodox Just Isn't Done! When I worked as a cube drone, I'd have spent all my spare time watching reality TV and evening soap operas. Because that was what Is Done! (After spending eight hours at work staring at a screen, I really didn't want to do that in my off-hours.) Running off to New York City without knowing a soul Just Isn't Done either, nor is marrying a man three decades my senior. So, if I gave a damn about what is and is not done, we wouldn't be having this conversation now, would we? See, that's the thing about adhering to one's principles--it usually means that I will make choices that you don't agree with!
And then Builder opened his mouth. He announced to everyone that he could get the Things into Prospect Park Yeshiva without even an interview because he knew people. "Oh, yeah, that's a great idea! It's a wonderful school! Your kids would do so well there!" Sure, it's a wonderful school--an hour away! I'd never get to see the Things at all, except to rush them through homework and dinner. Not to mention the twenty grand in school fees that I'd rather spend on museum memberships, trips to see that there's a world outside of Flatbush, and real literature rather than the frummie books with no discernible plot! (OK, vent over!)
So, I responded that I would continue to homeschool the Things as long as they enjoyed it. Now, my family can't really argue with that. They can't get into academics, because my kids are where they should be, if not beyond. They can't get into "socialization", because the Things are so polite and well-spoken. So, they fell back on their last resort. "It Just Isn't Done!" "Frum people don't homeschool their kids! Nobody does that! Your kids will be Different!"
Really? This is your best shot? Because, the last time I checked, I really don't give a damn.
See, if I cared about "what Just Isn't Done!" I'd have started wearing heavy make-up, using foul language, and smoking when I was thirteen. Because eschewing those activities, while continuing to read the classics, Just Isn't Done! When I was fifteen, I would have stayed in public school. Because running off to boarding school a thousand miles away, and dropping out a year later to homeschool myself Just Isn't Done! When I was in college, I would have spent more time attending raves than classes. Because caring about my grades when I was eighteen Just Isn't Done! When I was an adult, I'd have stayed in the Conservative movement. Because moving from hard-core Conservative to full-on Orthodox Just Isn't Done! When I worked as a cube drone, I'd have spent all my spare time watching reality TV and evening soap operas. Because that was what Is Done! (After spending eight hours at work staring at a screen, I really didn't want to do that in my off-hours.) Running off to New York City without knowing a soul Just Isn't Done either, nor is marrying a man three decades my senior. So, if I gave a damn about what is and is not done, we wouldn't be having this conversation now, would we? See, that's the thing about adhering to one's principles--it usually means that I will make choices that you don't agree with!
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