A small glimpse into what commenced:
N. and I are calmly peering over a recipe in English for Chocolate Coconut Balls. We are crushing the milk biscuits into a fine powder when D. and M. burst into the room, D. sharply throwing an open marker against M.’s chest and each of them retaliating by rushing around the room, forcefully overturning each chair as they go. Of course, N. can no longer concentrate on our English lesson and decides to join them by picking up a pair of scissors and waving it dangerously around. D. and M. stop short when they notice the chocolate.
“Nu, we want to join too?” D. and M. complain in a winy chorus. “What are you making, you whore?”
I summon my most serious teacher voice (as much as I can muster with a Hebrew vocabulary severely lacking in authoritative commands) and tell them that they may join, but only if they remember that they agreed to treat each other with respect and to pay attention to the lesson. Let’s just say that by the end I found myself rolling balls by myself, surrounded by dusty mountains of spilled cocoa and biscuit crumbs, carelessly torn wrappers, and wads of wet chocolate mix flung onto chairs and tables. When the group came running back from their trip to wash their hands in the bathroom instead of helping me clean up they decided to have a staple gun feud.
And so the day continued.
“What’s that growth on your back, you nerd? Oh, it’s your head, haha!” As H. and I were trying to study for her upcoming English exam by playing a vocabulary game with a deck of cards.
“Aiy! You took me completely by surprise!” L. screamed right into my ear as M. triumphantly pulled her chair out from under her. The vocabulary matching game we were playing ended right then and there.
Bang! All heads turned to see N. thrusting a stack of chairs under the door handle. Bang! Bang! Bang! “Let me in, you creep! I’m going to come to your house and take you by the throat!”
All of them rolling on the floor with laughter as M. waved a long, thin piece of purple clay back and forth in a choice spot that I will leave to your imaginations.
By the end, I left the newly chilled chocolate balls and a supportive note on the table hoping that the boys would eventually show up to celebrate the culmination of their English lesson. I waited for them for half an hour and finally gave up, sulkily saying good-bye to the shnat sherut (year of service) volunteers who were piled together on the sofa watching a video on Utube, and grumpily throwing on my sweater.
After sneaking into a piano room in the Music Community Center next door to the school and writing music with my eyes closed for a good two hours I felt generally better and headed back towards home. On my way, I sat eating my turkey cucumber sandwich and staring out the bus window. The view outside on the windy drive back down from the hills of Gilo is quite breathtaking. Explosions of bright purple, orange, and yellow flowers dotting an otherwise white, rolling landscape. Colorful lines of clothes drying in the light breeze. Trees popping with all kinds of citrus fruits and children chasing each other with flying kites.
I got off the bus to pick up orzo, hazelnuts, and arugula for tomorrow's Shabbat meal and to collect my favorite yellow sweater from the dry cleaners, hoping that the mysterious stains I found on it had been battled out. Everywhere I went people greeted me with a helpful smile and an early Shabbat Shalom. It was a chilly day but the sky was a deep cobalt and the sun was peeking out in warm sprays along the sidewalk. I could smell lemons on the trees and freshly baked bread as I passed and slowly felt the day wash off as I quietly made my way back home. I took a shower and came up with a game plan. And over a steaming bowl of butternut ginger squash soup and some pilfered orzo from tomorrow night's meal, I wrote an e-mail to the director of the program.
Right now, I feel that despite all of our wonderful intentions, the Ma'aleh room's function in reality is the opposite of our lofty goals. Instead of an inviting, comforting space, it is a tornado of curses, punches, running, and too little productivity here and there. Instead of a place to uplift and enrich it has become a hiding place and excuse for not going to class. Instead of banding together a group of children with similar needs and histories who can support and understand each other, it is a forum for threats and disparaging comments. While I haven’t been there since the very very beginning, I’m pretty sure that there was no true introduction. I am going to suggest that we hold a weekly community meeting in the mornings with all of the participants of Ma’aleh to function as a forum for suggestions, opinions, and constructive thinking.
To begin, I want to hold a formal meeting that establishes norms, introduces the program, and lays out expectations for both the teachers, tutors, volunteers, and pupils alike. I believe that if we take some time to sit together as a group and go over our overall goals and what I used to call giving out “glows and grows” we will not only come closer together as a group but also be able to include everyone in the process. I want to create boundaries and a new environment conducive to the peaceful, warm, inviting safe haven we are supposed to be. I want the children to take ownership of this space and to understand that their success is directly aligned with the effort they put into it. This begins with the formation of a peaceful learning environment. I will suggest that we sit in a circle, make a chart of our ideas, and work together as a community to create the experience we both deserve and need.
In coming up with a solution I have renewed hopes. I sit here thinking about the potential that exists and I am instantly reinvigorated. After all, the only way we can go from here is up.