Tomorrow is election day in Israel.

Last week I got an email from a community organization strongly advocating that we vote for the United Torah Judaism (UTJ)/Gimmel party in the upcoming elections in Israel.  I read it thoroughly but wasn’t convinced.

Then I got a call from a volunteer telling me that that I should vote for Gimmel; I listened but remained noncommital – I didn’t like being asked to commit verbally to voting for any party.  To my American sensibilities, this was a breach of boundaries.  Then dh got a call on Friday morning, in which he was pressured to say that he would vote Gimmel.   I had seen some advertising of some other parties and one particular party appealed to me, but I needed to do some more reading and find out what each party actually stood for.  Last night dh mentioned that he’d probably vote Gimmel and I was dumbfounded – I looked at him in disbelief and asked, “Why?”  He hadn’t had a chance to do any research on the parties, but when I gave him some introductory information and he continued with his own research, he quickly changed his mind.

We were married on Israeli election day in 1992, the first year that Gimmel was a party.  This was our party, this was how our entire peer group voted – we never thought to ask what the platform was because it was obvious that this was the party for the serious supporters of Torah.  There were Gimmel election slips that at some point were thrown onto the dance floor at our wedding, and the crowd went wild when dh danced holding one up.  That was then.  🙂

What is UTJ/Gimmel?  This is the yeshivish charedi ashkenazi party, and a vote for Gimmel is portrayed as a vote in alignment with the Torah leaders of the generation.  This year there was a proclamation that those who are working who vote for Gimmel will have a share in the Torah learned by all of the learning men who are being supported by the party, that this is .  This was supposedly stated by a very prominent Torah leader, though I have to admit to a certain degree of skepticism when it comes to rabbinical proclamations – I believe many of the the stated positions of the elderly Torah leaders are too often manipulated or outright lied about.  This is considered by some to be a brilliant move but I found the Yissachar/Zevulun reference disturbing – as if the Torah learning of someone working isn’t as valuable as the Torah learning of someone in kollel.

I looked at the Gimmel platform to see how they described their party, and though their theme song is catchy, it was clear to me that this isn’t the party that represents our interests.  Here in Israel, our family would be labeled as ‘working charedim’ – and the interests of working charedim are often different from those in full-time learning.  For example, we want our boys to learn secular subjects in high school and train for a career, and assume they will serve in the army.  The representatives of Gimmel are against all of these things.

So who to vote for?  Unlike in the US when there are two major parties and then the independent, here in Israel there are a lot of parties.  A lot.  34, to be exact.  That meant doing enough reading to narrow down the choices and hopefully find one that we actually agree with.   Until recently, I was strongly leaning towards HaBayit HaYehudi, but am now shifting to Am Shalem.  Am Shalem (link to good article detailing their positions) is a new party and seems to best share our values and politics, though if it will be able to garner enough votes for a seat in the Knesset is still unknown.  I’m willing to take the chance that I’m throwing away my vote to help bring a new and positive voice to the Knesset; if enough others who share these beliefs are willing to do the same, Am Shalem (letter Tzadi) will be voted in.

If you’re living in Israel and are totally bewildered about the Israeli election process, take heart.  Once you start to read it’s not nearly as overwhelming as it seems.  Here are a couple of places where you can begin your reading.  Once you get started, you’ll begin to find lots more available if you’re interested.

Jerusalem Post – A political guide for the perplexed – this is okay, not so thorough and I wouldn’t make any decisions based on the information in this, but it’s a starting point.

The 2013 Knesset Elections – this is a helpful post about elections that has some good links at the bottom, one of which will lead you to a more detailed description than above of the party platforms.

A vote is a very personal thing, and there are good aspects to most political parties.  The tricky part is to know what you believe in and then find the party that advocates for that.

Avivah

>>It has been very convenient for me that you and your family made Aliyah at the same time we did, especially since we did not come in the Nefesh b Nefesh group and do not have many friends here in our same situation. So I have been able to check in with your blog and find support. Thank you.
After reading about your ds13 ( I hope that he’s feeling better!) and the school thing, I have to wonder. Is it better for them in America?
My son came here ready and excited for a challenge, in Torah and otherwise, and has been so disappointed…so I ask u simply, do u think of going back?<<

Honestly, I’ve had quite a few challenges since moving to Israel.  Some of these I anticipated, some I didn’t.  When a good friend visited recently and got caught up on all the stuff that you don’t get to read about :), she told me she can’t understand why we’re staying here, that it seems too much for one person to be hit with so many difficulties.

I came here with the attitude that we were going to make it here and this would be our home long term.  I knew it would be tough – though I didn’t predict it would be this tough! – but I had faith that we could weather the challenges together as a family.  If I had ambivalence about it, then there are so many points that we would have turned back.  There are things that would be better for all of us in the US.  I loved many things about living in the US, some of which I really miss.  But the things I miss the most aren’t things that would be helped by moving back.

What I miss most are some intangible aspects our family life.  We’ve had a high level of connection within our family as well as independence from ‘the system’, and that has changed in some ways.  The connection is thankfully still good, the independence not so good.  The most significant factor that would make me move would be if I felt I had compromised my family and there was no way to remedy that other than to move back to the US.  While I don’t like some changes, I don’t feel powerless – I have the ability to change the things I don’t like but it means making a couple of significant changes regarding how things are right now (which you’ll all be sure to read about this if/when they happen!).

I really love living here.  I feel right here, that this is where we belong.  That doesn’t mean every day is a walk in the park.  A couple of days ago I posted about a situation that pushed me as close to being fed up as I’ve come, but that made me want to leave Karmiel, not Israel.  But tough times pass.

I believe that the initial adjustment period to living here is about three years – a year is a drop in the bucket, when you just begin to feel like you’re coming out of a long, dark tunnel – and we’re just seventeen months into our first three years (my ‘eighteen month aliyah update’ post  this week was wrongly titled :)).  Time takes time, and there’s no substitute for that.  I’m not sticking it out because I’m stubborn but because I trust that we’re making a long term investment in our future by being here.

When you plant a seed, if you keep yanking it out of the ground to see how much it’s grown, it’s never going to grow – you have to trust the growth process even when things look dark and there’s no sign of growth.  That’s kind of how I feel about making aliyah – I can’t constantly be examining everything and wondering if I should move back to where we were.  You can’t go back in time, and it’s a false illusion that we could automatically go back to what we had, because moving back would be a significant adjustment at this point for everyone that would create its own issues.  So I try to keep my eye on the long term goals while dealing with the short term difficulties.

Even with everything we’ve had to deal with, I’m glad we’re here.  I’ve asked the kids their thoughts about the move to Israel, and almost all of them have said that they’d rather be here than the US.  And I truly believe that by being willing to keep moving through the tough times, to believe in our ability to be successful and happy here, that we’ll get beyond the difficulties that are part of just about everyone’s early aliyah experience and be really glad that we kept on keeping on!

Avivah

A couple of days ago I enjoyed a mother daughter trip school trip to the Sea of the Galilee/Kinneretwith dd12.  This was especially nice because I began my day with a meeting with the school guidance counselor regarding dd12 and ds10 and continued carrying residual tension from this throughout the day.

This wasn’t a meeting I wanted to have or felt was necessary, but as a teacher friend told me, it would be unpleasant for me to go and it would look bad for me to refuse the appointment. When dealing with schools, one thing you have to realize is if there is ever an issue, the school structure is never at fault.  It’s always your child’s fault, or you as parents.  So they’re a bit myopic when looking at problems, because they won’t consider significant factors that might be the root cause of a problem.

The thought that kept going through my mind after this 90 minute meeting was, ‘when the only tool you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail’.

Here is an example of what I mean by that:

Dd12 has gotten very limited assistance at school in learning the language – the national decision to do away with ulpan for kids was disastrous but the law is that now students are to receive in-school language instruction – at best, this has been a forty minute session twice a week.  Do you know how little this is when you’re sitting for hours in a classroom, listening to lectures with no visual prompts to give you a clue what is being discussed?  Dd is a very visual learner and I anticipated that picking up the language wouldn’t be easy for her (in contrast to our auditory learners, who have learned it the most quickly).  The assistance she’s received has been very inadequate for her needs and though she’s bright and wants to do well, she simply doesn’t yet have the language skills to make this possible.  (For example, she’s an advanced math student but once they moved from equations to verbal problems, she was unable to do the work because she doesn’t understand the questions.)

The guidance counselor told me that she’s too quiet, doesn’t seem motivated to succeed and as such she’s concerned that dd is clinically depressed.   Of course she’s quiet, she can’t comfortably converse in Hebrew yet!  She’s friendly and talkative when she’s with English speakers.  And she’s motivated when she understands the materials in front of her. What she needs is academic help in translating the school materials so she can be successful, which is what I explained to them.  But they said, ‘Oh,  we can’t offer her that.  But a nice thing the school can do for you is provide subsidized psychological treatment.’

Psychological services are the tool – ie, the ‘hammer’ – they have to offer, and she needs to be diagnosed with emotional difficulties (the nail) for them to use their tool.   So you see, if we accept their ‘help’, it won’t be what she needs, but what they have to give.  (Her tutor knows her better than anyone else in the school and was very disturbed by this assessment; she’s told the guidance counselor that dd is struggling with language acquisition, not emotional problems.)

I’ve run into something that I didn’t anticipate about living in northern Israel, where there are relatively a small number of Anglo immigrants in this part of the country.  That’s a very important fact that has some major negative ramifications.  In highly Anglo areas, families making aliyah are so common that there’s a pretty good understanding of what the behavioral norms are for families new to the country.  There’s also a lot more support.

Here in the north, we don’t have that.  Instead of support and understanding, we face unrealistic expectations and far too often, negative judgments and presumptions about our children and our family functioning. When our kids are successful and acclimate quickly, it’s taken as par for the course and not worthy of much more than a passing comment.  When there’s any kind of struggle – as it’s inevitable that there will be…you get a lot more than a comment.  In the situation with dd, limited experience with new immigrants caused the person doing the assessment to drastically underestimate the language and adjustment factors and to see pathological behavior where it doesn’t exist.

(By the way, I told the counselor that with all due respect, she doesn’t have much experience with new immigrants and isn’t taking into account the most critical factors.  She told me that she spoke to two colleagues who live in RBS and did some reading, so she’s up to speed on the topic.  But two brief conversations and doing some reading don’t equal real life experience. She’s a truly good person with good intentions, but she is limited in this situation by her lack of experience.)

As part of this conversation, it was recommended that we open a file with social services so we could get psychological counseling for our children, which I adamantly refused.  Maybe this was just a strategy to get me to accept the school subsidized offer of services which followed, I don’t know.  An Israeli friend who works in the school system was horrified and furious when she found out that we were told this – this is the kind of thing that literally can destroy a family.  I’m fortunate that I can defend myself in Hebrew; most new olim don’t have that advantage.  Someone who made aliyah thirty years ago, the mother of a large family who has a lot of personal experience with many aspects of the system asked me how I had the strength to advocate for our kids, because this is an unpleasant situation to deal with.

My naturopath told me yesterday that I’m a ‘lioness’ for my kids – and you know what, she’s right.  You have to be here, because the system will eat you up and spit you out without blinking, all in the name of ‘helping’ you.  Yes, that sounds really negative but that’s how it feels to me.  As my friend mentioned above said in Hebrew, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions”.  Everyone is very nice and it’s supposedly all about ‘helping’ you, but that doesn’t mean that you’re actually going to be helped.

My husband was shocked after this meeting at how the baseline assumption was that we’re a family in crisis, despite the fact that we’ve done incredibly well in adjusting to life here.  The fact is, on paper we have significant strikes against us: 1) we’re a large family – this presumes that our children are emotionally neglected because we probably don’t have time for them; 2) we have a baby with T21 – this presumes that we’re overwhelmed with this and we can’t meet the needs of the other children; 3) we’re new to Israel – this presumes that we’re emotionally in crisis; 4) we have two kids struggling in school (never mind that everyone else is fine or that kids who were born here have difficulties in school, too!) – this presumes that they need psychological assistance – and refusing this presumes that we as parents are in denial or problematic parents; 5) we used to homeschool – this presumes that we are dysfunctional and imbalanced to begin with (since homeschooling is so uncommon in Israel).   So before we even walk in to a meeting we’re behind the eight ball.

It takes a lot of emotional energy to repeatly counter the unspoken message that something is wrong with you. I often feel like I have to prove myself – it’s not just a feeling, that’s the reality – and recognize that how I present will determine in large part the assessments that are made about my kids.  I’ve had a lot of challenges here, but I don’t think I’ve found anything as disturbing as these efforts to redefine what our family is according to their five minute glance.  It’s like they want to take away our healthy family identity and replace it with their labels.

If a child needs help, I want him to have it.  I don’t assume I have all the tools necessary and welcome the assistance of those whose strengths compliment mine.  However, it’s clear that we’re on our own when it comes to finding real solutions – if I weren’t a long time homeschooling mom used to assessing my kids’ needs and finding ways to meet them independently, I would be despairing or apathetic by now.  The current solutions include me sending academic materials with dd to work on in class (homeschooling materials- yes, I think it’s ironic), dd16 volunteering to come to dd’s school twice a week during school hours to translate materials so she’ll be able to do her assignments, looking for natural and unthreatening ways to integrate Hebrew at home, and looking for a job or volunteer opportunity where she can use her strengths and build a positive identity not dependent on school performance.  (She’s not interested in homeschooling or that would be a possibility as well. )

I didn’t anticipate that putting my kids in school would put us in the situation of being scrutinized and judged to this degree.  Being new to a country or being part of the system doesn’t mean that a family doesn’t have a right to privacy or dignity.  Even if someone had warned me about this, I would have thought that this wouldn’t be an issue we’d be likely to face since we’re a pretty strong family – but now I know that being stable doesn’t really matter.  I’ve wondered if this is harder for me to accept this kind of nosing into our lives than others (my impression is that this isn’t uncommon) since I was used to being independent of ‘the system’.  Or maybe others are having it harder than me because they aren’t as able to advocate for themselves as I am.  I really don’t know.

Avivah

Soon after moving here last August, I saw notices that gas masks were being distributed in Karmiel and figured that there was no rush to get them – I’d pick them up when I had a chance.  Every Israeli citizen is supposed to be equipped with a gas mask, and though it’s important there was no immediate need for them and I had lots of things to do in the wake of our recent move.

Unfortunately, I later learned that it was just a temporary local distribution, and all the regular distribution points are in different cities.  This isn’t a big deal if you have a car, but there’s no way for me to bring home twelve gas masks by bus.  So this stayed on the edge of my mind as something I needed to do, but not something I could accomplish without a significant cash outlay for a rental car or taxis.

When I learned that last week was the end of a one week distribution for gas masks in Karmiel, this time I knew to make it a priority.  Dh came home by taxi loaded down with twelve gas masks (we also picked up one for ds19), and I’m so glad to have this taken care of.  I wanted to put them in our storage are since they take up a lot of space but my kids think I’m totally irresponsible since they’re supposed to be kept somewhere that they can be quickly accessed, though I told them that they can be moved to a higher priority spot if G-d forbid it becomes necessary.

This is one of those things you take care with the hope that you’ll never need them.

Avivah

This morning I had a meeting with the principal of Amichai about ds10, who is having some struggles in school.  Ds10 has a beautiful and sensitive nature and will one day be a man with incredible depth, compassion and insight.  However, a gentle personality is particularly challenged by the rough and tumble school environment and ds experiences significant frustration and unhappiness on a daily basis.

The principal asked me my thoughts so I spent some time sharing some principles of child development that are core to ds’s challenges: the source of anxiety, the need to provide a child with rest/emotional safety and connection, and how the natural growth process of a child is thwarted when this isn’t in place.   I shared specific examples of what isn’t working for ds10 and why, and what would be necessary for him to feel more supported.  The principal was attuned and understanding of everything I was talking about.  He proposed setting up a a meeting – not just with ds10’s primary teacher- but with all of the teachers who interact with him, to share with them what I told him and to talk about how to create an environment in which he feels accepted as he is right now.   Every single time I speak to this principal I think about what an amazing person he is – he really cares about every single child in his school and works to find solutions for whatever challenges come up.

It’s interesting how many people want to know about the religiosity of children attending this school, but no one has asked me if it’s a place in which students are emotionally supported, encouraged, and accepted.  Interesting, isn’t it?  The success of the school experience depends so much on a child feeling safe and connected to the adults in charge, and yet not one single parent has ever expressed any interest in this point or how it compares to the other local option.

I think that it’s important when choosing a school for parents to consider how his/her child will be supported in their educational framework if difficulties arise, because one can’t assume that his child won’t have any challenges. You just never know what will come up.  New immigrants are expected to have struggles, but there are plenty of children who were born and bred in this country who are challenged in some area.  Support and warmth were qualities I was looking for when choosing a school for ds10.  This isn’t a touchy feely issue.  A child can’t learn unless he feels supported, which has connotations even for those who feel academics are primary because the child’s achievement will be affected by the degree to which he feels valued.  In this school there’s a broader definition of success for a student which means there’s increased acceptance of different abilities and needs, and a willingness on the part of the staff to extend themselves to help students resolve difficulties.  As time has gone on and I’ve seen how situations are handled at the two local schools, I’ve felt that this was a very wise decision.

I’m not one to get excited about schools because however good it is, it’s still an institution and it can’t compare to homeschooling.  However, I can get enthusiastic about the caliber of people within an institution, and this principal is truly an educator, a person who has the best interests of the students at heart. Sometimes teachers and administrators view the students as a reflection on them and the ego gets a bit entangled, but that isn’t the case at all here.  When we were going back and forth earlier in the year when considering transferring the boys to a different school, he was the only person involved whose main concern was what was right for our children, regardless of how that affected him.  As far as ds10, I’m cautiously optimistic, and will wait and see how things go.

Avivah

This morning I was planning to take the 6 am bus to Jerusalem to spend time with a friend visiting from the States, but I was very under the weather so instead I spent the morning in bed.

Though I felt extremely sick and horrible, this was a good opportunity for me to have some time to reflect.  In particular, I thought about the responses to my post yesterday as well as two private emails from blog readers, which all touched on a couple of issues that have occupied a lot of mental space for me since moving to Israel.  These came together to become a powerful opportunity to recognize that I’ve been getting caught up in limited thinking that isn’t serving me, and that I need to be more honest about what would better serve me.

Sometimes we know what we want, but we’re afraid to be honest even with ourselves about what we want, because it seems too big or intimidating or out of reach.  So we tell ourselves that what we have is what we want.  Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s very important to look for the good in every situation that is sent to us.  But sometimes we’re sent opportunities to expand ourselves that don’t immediately present themselves as such, and we miss our chance for personal expansion when we decide this is just how it’s meant to be.

Am I being too oblique?  Right now where I’m going with this is regarding the limitations of the community in which we live.  I currently live in a wonderful community that has many beautiful things about it; I’ve written about the many advantages there are to living here.  I recognize that we aren’t an ideal fit with the charedi community because of a couple of key differences in the positions we take, but I’ve found a way to massage our family into the community here.

I like the people here, and I think they for the most part like me.  There are lots of nice things about Karmiel – we have unusually moderate local school choices for all of the kids, boys and girls all the way through high school.   It’s beautiful and green and affordable.  We have lots of parks and a great bus system.  I love my home.  So it seems perfect for us.

And yet…is this really the best place for us?  To live here for me means making a conscious choice to live on the fringe of the religious community, to make choices that are different from those around me in order to stay true to what I believe in.  Though there are individuals who have similar views to us, they have all chosen to merge into the standard charedi community.  So I have to choose between living in a way that isn’t authentic for me, or to walk my own path.  If that’s how it is, I have to accept it and make the best of it, right?  Of course.

Or maybe not.  Maybe I can admit to myself that there are tens of thousands of people like me in this country – and there are – but they simply don’t live where I live.  Maybe I can admit to myself that I’m disappointed to find myself in a social situation that isn’t what I anticipated.  And I have been honest about this to myself and in private conversations (though I’ve only slightly referenced it here on the blog).  But I’ve focused on finding the good about the situation rather than consider the implications of the current limitations -I’ve been unwilling to consider that a move to somewhere else might better serve my family.

What keeps me from doing that?  Fear.  Fear of change, of having to start over again.  Fear of leaving the familiar.  Fear that there isn’t somewhere better, or more honestly, fear that if there is a better place where our family would find a sense of community, we wouldn’t be able to afford living there.  It’s painful to see what you want and feel like it’s out of reach.

So this morning I confronted myself  honestly- which is why I can tell you all of the above, because this is what I was thinking about –  and recognized that I’ve allowed myself to see the current situation as the best we’re going to find.  And I told myself, “Avivah, you have to believe that you deserve more and that it’s possible for you to be in a framework that supports you and your family.  Not just finagle a way to fit yourself in, but a place where you can truly be appreciated and have like-minded peers for you and your children.”

This is a scary thing to say even to myself, but particularly to put out in the public domain, because I don’t want to look foolish or unrealistic by putting forth a desire that I’m not able to actively do something about.  But this process is about recognizing that fears aren’t real, that we give them power by believing the limitations in our minds are true reflections of reality.  Recognizing fears is the first step in letting go of them and claiming a better future.

So now it’s out there – I believe there is a better place for my family than where I currently am.  I don’t know what that means practically speaking right now, but it’s okay, Hashem does.  In the meantime, I’m going to continue to actively appreciate the wonderful things about where I am.

Avivah

Exactly two weeks ago, dh and I met with ds13’s teacher for our PTA conference.  Last year dh attended these alone and I dealt with all of the other kids’ teachers, but I felt that this year I wanted to be more involved regarding ds.

His teacher is a wonderful man, very learned in Torah and a very experienced teacher.  And he has a very positive opinion of ds.  I’m very appreciative that ds has been able to have such a special teacher.

He told us, ds is a great student, picks material up quickly, gets along with other students very well, respectful, good character, etc.  There wouldn’t seem to be much left to talk about, but dh and I agreed that we wanted to get his feedback on high school options for ds. As soon as we asked, he emphatically told us that ds should go to a regular yeshiva, not an American yeshiva.  We asked what he meant by that, and he told us that ds has integrated well and would be able to do well at any typical Israeli charedi yeshiva ketana (high school but with no secular subjects).

We then reassured him we had no intention to send ds to an American yeshiva.  After all, I continued, we moved to the north of Israel because of our desire for our children to acclimate to life in Israel rather than raise them in an Anglo bubble neighborhood.  He was glad to hear me say this… until I continued, “We don’t want an American yeshiva – we want a yeshiva in which he’ll get a bagrut (Israeli matriculation certificate).”

Although it was clear that this wasn’t something he was happy to hear, I appreciate that we were able to speak openly with him.  I prefer being direct and open in my communication, and know that many teachers would make negative judgments about our religious commitment for saying something like this.  Afterward I only half jokingly told dh, when the teacher tells the school administration about this conversation, they’ll feel justified in having denied admission to our younger kids.

The teacher warned us against doing this – he said if we want to sent to a school like Maarava, we’re going to pay a price for that decision.  I asked him what the price was, and he said religiously we’ll pay the price, that the kids attending there won’t be a positive influence. I asked him what the price would be if ds attended a typical charedi yeshiva for high school, and he told me there was no price, that there were only positives.  And he’s right, when your child is a good fit for the framework you choose for them, the negatives of that choice aren’t a negative for you so you don’t pay any price.  In our discussion, he  strongly advocated for this framework.  His statement shows his integrity, that his choices are fully in line with his values. But for us and for ds, there would be a downside since our emphasis and goals in education are somewhat different.

Now, though the teacher didn’t know this when he made his statement, Maarava happens to be just the school we have in mind.  (For those who are wondering if we’re pushing our agenda on ds, he himself doesn’t want a typical charedi yeshiva.)  There are only a small number of charedi high schools that teach secular subjects in Israel, and this is considered the best of them.  It’s difficult to get into, and is known to be selective, accepting only about 35 of the two hundred applicants annually.  It has a very good reputation.  We would view him getting accepted there as a definite accomplishment – we don’t have ‘pull’ to get him in, so it would have to be on his own merits.   (However, it’s very expensive – the price I was told was something like 32,000 + shekels yearly, and a few hundred shekels monthly for him to come home for Shabbos – and no scholarships are available.  No, I have no idea how we could afford it and this would be one of two reasons that he wouldn’t attend if he gets accepted.  Actually, because of this we’re not sure it’s even worth our while to have him interview there, except I think it would be a confidence booster for him to know that he was accepted.)

But in the Israeli charedi world, this isn’t looked at positively.  This is an example of the divide between how Anglos and Israelis in the charedi world think – Anglos think this is a great school, Israelis think it’s ‘less than’.  An Israeli charedi friend has warned me against sending him, just as the teacher has, and I understand where they’re coming from.  I realize that by sending ds to a school like this we’re setting him up to be seen as second rate in the charedi world, and maybe that’s not fair of us to do to a him, particularly since he really could be a ‘top’ boy in Israeli terms.  (Please understand I’m not judging anyone as better or worse, just trying to explain how things are viewed.)

But we’re trying to go beyond our egos and find a framework that he wants to be in, that he will feel supported in. The typical yeshiva ketana schedule of only Torah study from the morning until late at night, with just a two hour break in the middle of the day, would be really hard for him.  Not because he couldn’t handle it academically – he could.  But there’s no sports, no outside activities, and his friends have told him that they spend their free time sleeping since the schedule is so grueling.  While this is a good choice for some boys and they’ll thrive there, ds is very clear that he doesn’t want this.

We thought we had a few more months until the application process begins, but just learned yesterday that the applications for next year are due in the next two weeks.  I don’t know if this includes arranging for his entrance interviews or if that is a later step in the application process.  We were told to start applying to Maarava now, but I don’t yet know if this is true of other similar schools; I’ll have to find out this week.

Fortunately, I’ve been looking into high school choices for over a year (remember, we skipped ds into eighth grade when we moved, and didn’t decide to leave him in that class for a second year until around December) so at least I feel I know what’s out there and I don’t have to rush to evaluate the different schools.  But we don’t have a lot of options.  There are about five or six schools in the entire country that fit what we’re looking for, Maarava being considered the best.  Unfortunately, all of them would mean that ds would have to dorm.  I really don’t want to send ds away for high school, even if almost everyone in the country considers this normal and even positive.  I consider it highly problematic.

There’s one new option, a yeshiva high school that will be opening this coming year in Karmiel just a few minutes from our home.  It’s the same kind of school as the others we’re considering, charedi but with a bagrut offered.  If he were to attend this school, ds would be be able to  live at home, which is a HUGE value to us.  I’m not majorly concerned if the academics are as high a level at Maarava, since I have confidence in one’s ability to supplement.  However, it’s almost impossible to know what kind of students will be attending since it’s a new school.  We and ds want for him to have a peer group of like-minded friends, and we can’t be assured of that upfront.  Ds isn’t interested in considering this, but dh and I are keeping our eyes open to it as a possibility.

Ds has an answer for all of this: in all seriousness, he told us that he wants to go back to America for high school, and already has a family who is willing to host him for the year.  We said no.

Avivah