English Day at Rambam

On Sunday, my school finally held its annual English Day!  After a series of changes to scheduling and procedure, everything eventually came together on the 25th.  The following is the description that I wrote for the school newspaper (for some reason, the principal wanted me to write it in English, as if to definitively prove to parents that the school has a real anglophone on its faculty):

"On Sunday, May 25th, 2014, Rambam School in Lod held its annual English Day.  Prior to the 25th, each class prepared materials for use on English Day.  Each class decorated posters depicting the flag, capital city, continent, national food, and primary language of a particular country.  For example, the sixth grade's chosen country was United States of America, and the students created an American flag from construction paper, as well as posters representing Washington, D.C., North America, hamburgers and soda, the English language, and the Statue of Liberty.

"On English Day itself, students traveled from classroom to classroom with handmade paper passports which the English teachers had designed.  Upon visiting each classroom, students wrote down the critical information of the class's country, thereby familiarizing themselves not only with world geography, but also with English terms such as "flag," "capital," and "language," the knowledge of which was necessary for completing the passports.  At the end of the day's special activities, students also received copies of an English newsletter which was a collaborative work of students from different classes, featuring articles on such diverse topics as the Chinese New Year, the construction of the Eiffel Tower, and the contemporary Argentine soccer star Lionel Messi.  The day was organized and facilitated by the school's English teachers Chani, Moshe, and D'vori.  Furthermore, a team of four American volunteers — Harry, Natalie, Noah, and Perrin — came to assist the school's regular English faculty.  Not only did the volunteers' kindness and friendliness quickly endear them to the students, but the volunteers' help was crucial in making English Day a success."

That, anyway, is what happened, according to the books.  I left out a number of details that I considered unimportant to parents, such as the fact that English Day has been one of my most stressful days since I arrived in Israel (possibly related to the fact that I spent Monday, today, home sick from school).  There were so many things to worry about, and, I realized, that, despite all of the planning that the English Teachers and I had put into the day, things just didn't go as planned.  Everyone seemed very pleased with the results, though, which is ultimately the important thing.  The students enjoyed going from room to room, drawing the various countries' flags, and filling out the rest of the critical information on their passports.  The teachers seemed genuinely pleased that students were learning new vocabulary terms.

The most unbelievable part of the day for me, though, as well as the most gratifying, was the way that the members of my program came to help out the students at my school.  I had at first expected only Noah and Harry to come, after I had helped them at English Day at Ofek, their school, a few weeks ago, but then Veta volunteered to help out, to make up for the fact that TZ left the program.  The school suddenly changed the date from a Friday to a Sunday, making it impossible for Veta to come (she spends half of her week in Haifa).  Just a few days after the schedule change, much to my relief, Perrin offered to help, bringing our English Day team back to seven.  Furthermore, when I was riding the bus to school at around 7:15 am, I received a phone call from Natalie.  She told me that she was coming all the way from Petach Tikvah to help me.  I'd like to add that not only was this everyone's day off from work, but that the men needed to wear kippot, and that the women needed to wear modest dress.  Absolutely everyone came, not only arriving early, but instantly making friends with the students and with the school's English teachers.  Perrin, Noah, Natalie, and Harry instantly got to work preparing for the day's activities and meeting students.  It's been a while since I've worked at school with other volunteers (TZ stopped working with any regularity many months ago, because of her health problems), and I've forgotten how much better with students they are than I am.  Much as I struggle with the Hebrew language, my colleagues consistently show themselves much better at communicating, as well as at functioning in general.  Amit and Carmel, our group's two madrichim, also came to assist with English Day, and succeeded in making the day run more smoothly.  All of the other members of the team really threw themselves into their work, and were the reason that the day worked out at all.  I think that the English teachers, too, were very happy to be working with a new group of Americans.

It's getting late here, and I need to go to bed.  I'm hoping that I'll feel well enough to go to school tomorrow.

~JD

Altneusprache

If you've been reading my blog since 2011, you'll remember my ill-fated attempts to buy oatmeal in Tours, France, among other amusing misadventures resulting from my poor French skills.  With my Hebrew skills still weaker than my French skills were when I left France, it goes without saying that I've said some ridiculous things since I've arrived.

Hebrew is very exciting to learn.  Unlike English and French, it has a certain structure to it that is very elegant and simple.  Hebrew is a Semitic language (English and French are both Indo-European), and all (or, rather, almost all) natively Hebrew words are constructed around a three- (or four-) letter "root" which has some kind of core meaning.  For instance, the word root "כ-ת-ב" indicates writing.  The verbs "לִכתוֹב" (to write), "להכתב" (to be written), "לְהַכתִיב" (to dictate), "לְהִתְכַּתֵב" (to correspond); the nouns "מִכְתָּב" (letter) and "כְּתֹבֶת" (address); and the adjective "כִּתוּב" (written) are all words formed by manipulating this root.  After learning the meaning of a particular root, one can predict and anticipate the meanings behind other words of the same root.  A couple of times, I've even (correctly) used verbs I've never before seen or heard, because I have learned how to correctly manipulate a root.  This is something that can't really be done with English or French, although it reminds me a little bit of taking reflexive French verbs and making them non-reflexive, and vice-versa (such as learning the meaning of tromper, to mislead someone, from the verb se tromper, to make a mistake).  

This, anyway, is the very academic way of looking at the language.  It's very useful for reading and writing, and sometimes also helps with conversation.  Unfortunately, this analysis of the language can only get one so far, and there are several good reasons for this.  This is because Hebrew is a spoken language, and Israelis don't think any more about the elegance of their grammar any more than typical Anglophones think about English grammar.  Yes, some Anglophones have read The Elements of Style, consistently use "whom" correctly, and can identify a sentence as subjunctive; most of us cannot  (most of my students don't know the difference between a verb and a noun, and I don't really blame them).  Israelis just speak, and learners of Hebrew must learn the actual words that Israelis use; just as in English, a word that is grammatically correct and conveys the correct meaning is not necessarily the correct word.  For instance, at least three times, I have used words with which the children around me are unfamiliar: "לִלְעוֹג" (to mock), "לְהִתגַעגֵעַ" (to miss someone), and "לְהַבדִיל" (to distinguish).  Even though all of these verbs are found in my 501 Hebrew Verbs book, they are not colloquial enough to use around Israeli schoolchildren.  Furthermore, just as in English, knowledge of synonyms is crucial.  For example, the words "לִכתוֹב" and "לִרְשׁוֹם," are both frequently-used organically-Hebrew verbs meaning "to write," and my students freely interchange them.  Although I tend to use only "לִכתוֹב" when I speak, it is important that I know both words, in order to understand, and effectively communicate with my students.

In addition to the large number of organic Hebrew words, a great deal of loan words have infiltrated Hebrew (many of them from English), in some cases replacing native Hebrew words, and often having a definition differing from that of the original word.  For instance, there is a perfectly good Hebrew word for sandwich,  "כָּרִיך," but everyone just says "סֶנדוִיץ."  The English word "private" (פְּרַיְבֶט) has also become a Hebrew word, but the word "פְּרַיְבֶט" is a noun meaning "personal vehicle" (as opposed to public transportation), rather than an adjective indicating that something is confidential, personal, or for restricted use only.  The languages that most frequently lend words to Hebrew tend to be English (because English infiltrates everything thanks to globalization), Yiddish (because of heritage), Arabic (because of both heritage and proximity), and Greek (because of the large number of Greek words that entered Hebrew during the Rabbinic era.  On a daily basis, it's frequent to hear such words as "סבבה" (Arabic for "cool"), "צִ'יפְּס" (which follows both the British and American meanings, and can therefore refer to either potato chips or french fries), "נוּ" (an untranslatable Yiddish slang word), and "אַפּוֹטְרוֹפּוֹס" (Greek and Mishnaic Hebrew for "guardian").  However, I have heard at least two French words: "סְטָז'," meaning "internship," and "רוֹמָן," the word for "novel." Finally, the rules of root-manipulation don't always work out as expected.  For instance, "לְחַפֵּשׂ" means "to search," whereas "לְהִתְחַפֵּשׁ" means "to wear a costume," verbs without any apparent connection, despite the fact that they share the same root.

Hebrew's word roots, among many other aspects of the language, haven't significantly changed in the past few thousand years, and it was possible for me to carry over a fair amount of useful vocabulary words from my study of Jewish texts (thanks again, Drisha Institute).  In fact, one of the most wonderful things about Hebrew is the way in which ancient Hebrew roots and verbs are recycled, and become Modern Hebrew verbs.  Following is a list of my top five favorite:

5) In last week's Torah portion, Emor, we read of the holiday of Sukkot that "עֲצֶרֶת הִוא כָּל מְלֶאכֶת עֲבֹדָה לֹא תַעֲשׂוּ" (Vayikra 23:36).  JPS renders this verse's meaning as "it is a solemn gathering: you shall not work at your occupations."  The noun "עֲצֶרֶת," which JPS translates as "solemn gathering," can now mean something along the lines of "political rally" or mass meeting.

4) The noun "חַשְׁמַל" makes its appearance in the Bible in Yechezkel 1:4 -- "וָאֵרֶא וְהִנֵּה רוּחַ סְעָרָה בָּאָה מִן הַצָּפוֹן עָנָן | גָּדוֹל וְאֵשׁ מִתְלַקַּחַת וְנֹגַהּ לוֹ סָבִיב וּמִתּוֹכָהּ כְּעֵין הַחַשְׁמַל מִתּוֹךְ הָאֵשׁ" (and I saw, and behold, a tempest was coming from the north, a huge cloud and a flaming fire with a brightness around it; and from its midst, it was like the color of the chashmal from the midst of the fire).  Seeking to explain this rare and obscure word, the late 11th-century French commentator Rashi offers the following lengthy explanation: "'Chashmal' is an angel bearing that name, and he [Ezekiel] saw [something] like the appearance of its color in the midst of the fire. And so did our Sages say: There was an incident involving a child who was expounding on the account of the Chariot. He perceived the meaning of 'chashmal,' [whereupon] fire emanated from the chashmal and consumed him. They said further that the word itself is a combination: When they asked, 'What is chashmal?' replied Rav Judah, 'Living beings (חֶיוֹת) of fire (אֵש) that speak (מִמַלְלוֹת).' In a Baraitha we learned: Sometimes silent (חָשּׁוֹת), sometimes speaking (מִמַלְלוֹת) when the speech emanates from the mouth of the Holy One, blessed be He, they remain silent. When the speech does not emanate from the mouth of the Holy One, blessed be He, they speak; that is, they laud and praise the Lord (Chag. 13). [Addendum: Possibly, 'chashmal' is the name of the color resembling the color of fire, for he said, 'Chashmal from the midst of the fire,' and he said (verse 27): 'the color of chashmal, the appearance of fire within it found about, from the appearance of his loins and above.'  And, he says in the second vision (8:2): 'and from his loins and above was like the appearance of a splendor, like the color of chashmal.'] And from the midst of it, [i.e.,] that fire, I saw something like the color of chashmal that appeared from the midst of the fire. But we do not know what it is, and the midrash that our Sages expounded on it, [defining 'chashmal' as] living beings of fire that speak, does not seem to me to the context.]"  That's a very long explanation for what has become a mundane word -- "חַשְׁמַל" is the Modern Hebrew word for "electricity."

3)  In Shemot 30:34, in the instructions for preparing incense for the golden altar, Moshe receives the command "קַח לְךָ סַמִּים," (take for yourself samim).  The rest of the verse goes on to list the "סַמִּים" that Moshe needs to take: "נָטָף | וּשְׁחֵלֶת וְחֶלְבְּנָה סַמִּים וּלְבֹנָה זַכָּה," a list which JPS renders as stacte, onycha, galbanum, and pure frankincense.  Based on the context, "סַמִּים" clearly means something along the lines of "spices," "fragrances," "aromatics," etc., and the Rabbis of the Babylonian Talmud (Kereitot 6a) spend quite a time expounding on the exact substances in their own time to which these Biblical ingredients correspond.  In Modern Hebrew, though, "סַמִּים" simply means "drugs!"  I need to thank my beloved student Hagus for demonstrating to me just how funny this particular word, read in its original Biblical context, seems to modern Hebrew speakers (at least, if they're 12-year-old boys).

2) In chapter 17 of Shmuel I 17, in the archetypal story of the victory of the underdog, the future King of a united Israel, David, faces the champion of the Plishtim, Galyat.  In 17:49, the narrative describes that "יִּשְׁלַח דָּוִד אֶת יָדוֹ אֶל הַכֶּלִי וַיִּקַּח מִשָּׁם אֶבֶן וַיְקַלַּע וַיַּךְ אֶת הַפְּלִשְׁתִּי אֶל מִצְחוֹ" (David sent his hand to the container, and took from it a stone, and shot it, and it struck the the Plishti in his forehead).  The key verb here, "לִקְלוֹעַ," is a Modern Hebrew verb, too.  Although it retains its original meaning of "to strike a target," it is also used in basketball to mean "to sink a basket."

1) In Bereishit 43:2, Joseph instructs his Egyptian servants "וְאֶת גְּבִיעִי גְּבִיעַ הַכֶּסֶף תָּשִׂים בְּפִי אַמְתַּחַת הַקָּטֹן" (and my goblet, [that is] the silver goblet, place in the opening of the bag of the youngest [brother]), the word "גָבִיעַ" indicating a goblet or chalice, which 43:5 indicates clearly to be a vessel used for drinking and for some form of ancient divination.  In Modern Hebrew, the word "גָבִיעַ" means "ice-cream cone!"

 By the way, this post is dedicated to the Feldman sisters, Penin♥h and L♥ni, who have helped me a lot with Hebrew in the past, and know the language a lot better than I do.

Love from Israel,

~JD