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| Volume 6 Issue 3 | Spring 1999 |
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Who says you can't go home again? I still remember sitting in Kitah Gimmel, struggling with Hebrew vowels, daydreaming about how cool it would be to come back to class when I was all grown up and accomplished. I'd be so well-behaved, so fluent in Hebrew, and so tall--they wouldn't believe it was me.
And so I found myself, confident and grown-up as could be, back at my alma mater: The Academy for Jewish Studies in South Orange, NJ. The new Director of Education, Bruce Helft, had been kind enough to welcome me back to school. I had asked to sit in on a few classes, hoping to pick up new teaching tips to help me in my upcoming stint in front of a classroom.
I had a great time in the fourth grade Judaica class. We learned that hanukkah is the Hebrew word for dedication. Students giddily reenacted the drama of the Maccabees' heroism. Their spirited role-playing session illuminated the triumph we celebrate on Hanukkah. The classroom was infused with an infectious atmosphere of curiosity, jollity, and learning; it was hard to tear myself away. (Of course, the fact that I was wedged into a pre-school-sized chair may have been a contributing factor.) It was great to be back at AJS.
Next, I moved on to Hebrew with the sixth graders. Since class was already in session, I tried to make my entrance as inconspicuous as possible. Still, the students noticed me sneak in. In an effort to nip their impending distraction in the bud and move on with the lesson, the teacher graciously introduced me. "Yeladim, this is Alison. Alison used to go to school here. Now she works at Behrman House; they publish some of our textbooks." The kids responded to this bulletin with evident disinterest. She tried again.
"Behrman House even makes The New Siddur Program. We're using Book 2 right now. Isn't that great?! Alison used to be a student in this very classroom, and now she makes school books."
This information landed with a resounding thud. The looks on those kids' faces dashed my grand fantasies of returning to school as a polished yet hip role model. I had thought I'd rule the school. Instead, by virtue of my career choice, I'd condemned myself to a life of perpetual uncoolness.
Be humble, that you may not be humbled. (Talmud: Derech Eretz, 1:27)
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