My real name

I went to Jerusalem with a group of migrant workers I know from the refugee center for a demonstration outside of the Prime Minister’s house to protest deportations. I brought a photographer friend of mine on the program who is interning at Flash 90 Israeli press photographers, who conveniently ran into his boss taking pictures of the demonstration too! We boarded the buses in south Tel Aviv with members of the Filipino community and got to Jerusalem around 5 pm, just in time for the rain to begin and the temperature to drop. The group was comprised of mostly mothers with their young children, a few fathers, and a few Israelis organizing the event and leading the group in chants with a megaphone. We had our own fenced off area across the street from Prime Minister Netenyahu’s house. We were chanting things like “1,2,3,4 deportations no more” and in Hebrew “there’s no such thing as an illegal child.” Recently, deportations have increased significantly and the government is threatening to deport children without their parents.

It was a unique experience to be part of the protest, as I am still unsure as to where I stand on the refugee and migrant worker issue in Israel. Politically and financially I understand the problem of housing refugees in a country where they receive benefits but do not pay taxes, as well as the fact that they are non-Jews living in a Jewish state. However, I have gotten to know these women throughout my 3 months here and when I see them in person and they tell me that they have such a better life here in Israel and that their children will have a better future, I see the other side. The children are growing up as Israelis, speaking Hebrew fluently and celebrating all the Jewish holidays such as Purim in school. As a Jew, I also sympathize with their community looking for a country that is both safe and will provide their children with a great life.

The most interesting part of the protest was when Noam Shalit crossed the street to approach our group. Noam is Gilad Shalit’s father, an Israeli soldier who was captured by Palestinians 5 years ago (it’s been 1,600 days- June 2006). A year after his capture, his parents set up a temporary tent outside of the Prime Minister’s house to influence the government to take actions to rescue him (this would mean negotiating with terrorists who are demanding that hundreds of Palestinian terrorists and murderers be released from prison in exchange for Gilad). The tent has developed into more of a permanent structure over the years, and Gilad’s parents can be found there every day from morning until night (it has been rumored that they sleep there as well). Many supporters and tourists visit their tent to meet them. They have devoted their lives to the rescue of their son. The day of the demonstration, Noam left the tent and walked over to our area to hand out candy to the Filipino children and talk to the mothers. The clash of worlds and Israeli political issues was incredible to witness. Noam and the Filipino mothers are all parents who care about their children and due to circumstance have met in front of the Prime Minister’s house to speak their mind about separate issues. In reaction to Noam, one of the mother’s told me “no parent should have to go through what he’s going through.”

A few weeks ago, I started working at an autistic kindergarten, part of the Association for Children At Risk, in Rishon Le’Tzion, a town right outside of Tel Aviv. My supervisor, a PhD student at Tel Aviv University, works as a psychologist there as part of her clinic hours. I work 2 days a week, 9 am- 2 pm, and speak only Hebrew the entire time. The kids are challenging, the Hebrew speaking is mentally draining, and by the end of the day I am unbelievably exhausted- but despite all this, I love working there. It’s ironic that my supervisor asked if I wanted to volunteer there, because initially I was choosing between my current internship doing research at TAU and working at this exact school (I had no idea she works there). I was too scared that it would be too challenging and draining to do 4 days a week- and I was right. But 2 days a week is perfect.

I’ve worked in day cares and preschools in the States, as well as a preschool in Israel outside of Jerusalem. I really enjoy working in school settings, but I especially love schools in Israel. I came to this conclusion for a few reasons:

1. Rules, regulations, and policies in general- if they exist at all, they are never strictly enforced like they are in the states. Hugs are allowed and encouraged, food is prepared in the school’s kitchen by the teachers, and the teachers are much more relaxed and flexible.

2. The teachers are amazing, kind, generous people (as teachers should be). They work extremely hard and it seems like they never complain or act like their work is a burden. Their job duties seem to include cooking, cleaning, ordering of new supplies, and communicating with parents, speech, and occupational therapists to continue working on what the child has learned.

3. The teachers feed me very well (or should I say force feed me?). I get 2 delicious meals when I’m there, both breakfast and lunch, as well as unlimited coffee (which is always encouraged). Breakfast is usually scrambled eggs, bread with hummus, and Israeli salad and lunch is pasta, rice, schnitzel (breaded chicken), tomato sauce, and meat balls. In the beginning of my time there (and still sometimes now), I was hesitant to eat the food, feeling like I was mooching off of the kids, and hesitant to leave the kids and take a break to eat their food. However, Israelis can be pushy, and both Israelis and Jews can be pushy with food. During every meal the teachers never ask, but instead tell me to take food, eat, and “sit down at the table like a regular person” (I used to stand and eat quickly). If I say no, they insist so I’ve learned that it’s much easier to say yes, accept the food, and take 5 minutes to sit down and enjoy the delicious (and free!) meal.