My final program was in Pittsfield, MA in the Berkshires. By this time, I had finally figured out a system for building solar ovens with kids without leaving a mess or using up all of our resources. We had a working system to pack up the bus in an orderly fashion. And the program ran like butter on a hot roll. The school we visited was another Teva school. They came to Teva for the first time this fall and fell in love with it. They decorated their room with Teva inspired artwork and posters, remembered all of the songs, and could barely remain in their skins when we arrived. We made little triscuit pizzas in the solar ovens and ate tons of sun-roasted marshmallows. Jonathan and I even switched roles. He led the outdoor station, while I brought the students onboard. After the program, Jonathan and I walked into Ben & Jerry's and asked the clerks if they knew about the famous bus that Ben Cohen had commisioned. They stood wide-eyed behind the counter listening to Jonathan describe Ben Cohen's political message about the US budget being topsy-turvy. He recounted the adventures of the White house Organic Farm Project and their noble cause, which came to fruition just weeks before when Michelle Obama broke ground for the the first White House garden in over half a century. And then the clincher:
"It's next door."
The clerks looked puzzled.
"Yeah, we drove it here."
Some of them walked outside to get a better look. They were impressed and looked giddy. The manager came out and Jonathan seized the opportunity.
"So...do we get free ice cream?"
The manager looked around at his staff with a half-smile.
"Yeah, sure."
Getting free ice cream at a Ben & Jerry's was an appropriate ending for my experience on the bus. It was a reminder that, from the perspective of the bus, the Teva Birkat Hakhamah bus tour was a small part of a greater bus tour that began before us and will continue after us. Although various people and organizations drew different lessons from the bus, there are golden threads that tie us all together. The bus is a symbol of how the world could be. It teaches us that the whole world is upside down, while reminding us that anything is possible. Knowingly or unknowingly, the past and present owners of the bus drew from a long Jewish tradition of roving bands of mystics like the Baal Shem Tov and his Hasidim that brought light and hope into the world. It was an honor to contribute to such a holy mission.
Friday, May 1, 2009
New Jersey
One of the most satisfying parts of the bus tour was seeing former Teva students in new contexts. In a JCC in New Jersey, Jonathan and I led a program for three schools, two of which had been at Teva during the fall. The kids were delighted to sing the familiar Teva songs again and reminisce about their experience, which for many kids was the best week of their life. We did the program in the lobby, which was awkward because of the exhibit of nude statues, which was distracting several of the male students. Also, Jonathan was under the weather, overworked, stuffy, and out of energy and sleep. Reconnecting with former students gave me the energy to support Jonathan and carry the program for the day. As the buses were leaving at the end of the program, I chased after them wildly, waving and gesturing to the kids that they should stay. This is standard Teva procedure.
Hannah Senesh
According to some people, Hannah Senesh was the inspiration for the whole bus tour. They had been working for ages on a Birkat Hakhamahah community fair. There were people there of all ages. There was a station for building solar ovens, a bicycle powered lightbulb, a facepainting table etc. Although the festival had to be held inside because of the rain, it was undeterred. It is not an exaggeration to say that this fair was epic. Marty Markowitz, The borough president of Brooklyn delivered a fiery speech about matzah brei and the potential of renewable energy technology. he even declared March 29 to be henceforth known as "Hannah Senesh Solar Day in Brooklyn, USA." Teva sent us some reinforcements to help with the program. Alexandra, Molly and Rivka helped us run stations and put on a skit about Birkat hakhamah for the hundreds of people gathered in the gym of the school.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Sharon, MA
The next visit was a big one. The Striar school, otherwise known as Shas, had done the regular Teva program in the fall, and as a result of their experience, organized a Birkat hakhamah-themed renewable energy science fair. Our bus had the honor of being part of this fair. We spent two days at the school so that every single child, from the preschool until sixth grade, would have an opportunity to get a tour of the bus. Kids came with their parents. The weather was beautiful. Leora, a current Teva employee and Getsl, a former Teva educator, helped us run the show. I made up a song about Birkat hakhamah that I taught to most of the kids. My favorite part was seeing the kids that I had taught at Teva in the fall present their science projects.
After the fair ended, there was a closing ceremony with speeches thanking those that made the fair possible and an announcement of the winners of the science fair. Then, the principal of the school invited me and Jonathan up to the podium to sing some Teva songs and speak about Teva. I invited the sixth-graders who had been at Teva to help us lead the song session for the whole gathering of parents, faculty, donors and other community members. If you have never been to Teva, you may not know that Teva educators like to dress up. I was wearing a ridiculous sombrero and a colorful cape while Jonathan had an old-fashioned miner's hat and random pieces of cloth wrapped around him. After the song session, Jonathan delivered his magnum opus dressed quite absurdly. He spoke about the significance of Birkat hakhamah falling out on the Eve of Passover and how it relates to saving energy. It would have seemed quite formal but for his silly attire. We will remember Sharon for its hospitality and close community.
After the fair ended, there was a closing ceremony with speeches thanking those that made the fair possible and an announcement of the winners of the science fair. Then, the principal of the school invited me and Jonathan up to the podium to sing some Teva songs and speak about Teva. I invited the sixth-graders who had been at Teva to help us lead the song session for the whole gathering of parents, faculty, donors and other community members. If you have never been to Teva, you may not know that Teva educators like to dress up. I was wearing a ridiculous sombrero and a colorful cape while Jonathan had an old-fashioned miner's hat and random pieces of cloth wrapped around him. After the song session, Jonathan delivered his magnum opus dressed quite absurdly. He spoke about the significance of Birkat hakhamah falling out on the Eve of Passover and how it relates to saving energy. It would have seemed quite formal but for his silly attire. We will remember Sharon for its hospitality and close community.
Hebrew Academy of Connecticut
And then the bus tour got really busy.
I apologize for not posting for such a long time; It became increasingly difficult for me to find time to sit in front of a computer. However, I will try to fill you in on the rest of our travels. Better late than never.
Our next destination was the Hebrew Academy of Southern Connecticut. We pulled out of Brooklyn and stayed the night at my parents' house in Yonkers, NY. Our driveway is so tight that my mother and I sometimes have a hard time pulling her honda civic into it. Amazingly, we managed to squeeze the 20,000 pound bus into the narrow space. While I was on the tour, my parents expressed disappointment that I was wasting my time on such a pointless adventure as the bus tour. However, when my father saw the beast, he was converted. The surprise of seeing the bus set him laughing, and he confessed that he now saw the value of the journey. This support meant a lot to me.
Super-Ben, an anchor and an old friend of Teva, made a surprise appearance at my house and joined us in our ride to Hebrew Academy of Southern Connecticut. All we knew about the school was that the students already knew about Birkat Hakhamah. As we arrived at the school and began the program, I noticed that many of the boys had tsitsit (ritual fringes on the corners of their shirts) and the girls were dressed in very modest, long dresses in comparison with other schools that we visited. Then I noticed that the male teachers all sported long beards. It gradually dawned on me that we were in a Chabad-Lubavitch school.
Part of our curriculum teaches students about the origin of coal, oil and natural gas, which result from organic matter that is millions of years old that has been broken down and compressed by microorganisms, temperature, and pressure. Since most of the schools/congregations that we worked with were affiliated with the Conservative and Reform movements, we never had to worry about a conflict between modern scientific chronology and traditional Jewish chronology. We were not sure how our program would go over in a Chabad school.
As it turned out, that was the least of our worries. More challenging was the sheer number of young students that poured out of the building. Thank goodness Super-Ben was there to help us. No more than fifteen kids could fit on the bus. I assigned some of the other kids to build solar ovens, and others to roast marshmallows with Super-Ben by focusing sunlight with a sattelite dish covered in aluminum foil. The rest of the kids were allowed to build solar toys that I had bought from a kids' store for just such an emergency. By the end of the day, we had used up almost all of our solar oven materials, one of my solar toys was broken, there was a mess everywhere, and the three of us were so pooped that we hardly had the energy to do anything. On the other hand, the kids loved the program. As children got picked up from school, parent after parent approached us and let us know how excited the children were after our program. We were out of energy and materials, as well as veggie oil for our vehicle, but the program was getting better and better.
I apologize for not posting for such a long time; It became increasingly difficult for me to find time to sit in front of a computer. However, I will try to fill you in on the rest of our travels. Better late than never.
Our next destination was the Hebrew Academy of Southern Connecticut. We pulled out of Brooklyn and stayed the night at my parents' house in Yonkers, NY. Our driveway is so tight that my mother and I sometimes have a hard time pulling her honda civic into it. Amazingly, we managed to squeeze the 20,000 pound bus into the narrow space. While I was on the tour, my parents expressed disappointment that I was wasting my time on such a pointless adventure as the bus tour. However, when my father saw the beast, he was converted. The surprise of seeing the bus set him laughing, and he confessed that he now saw the value of the journey. This support meant a lot to me.
Super-Ben, an anchor and an old friend of Teva, made a surprise appearance at my house and joined us in our ride to Hebrew Academy of Southern Connecticut. All we knew about the school was that the students already knew about Birkat Hakhamah. As we arrived at the school and began the program, I noticed that many of the boys had tsitsit (ritual fringes on the corners of their shirts) and the girls were dressed in very modest, long dresses in comparison with other schools that we visited. Then I noticed that the male teachers all sported long beards. It gradually dawned on me that we were in a Chabad-Lubavitch school.
Part of our curriculum teaches students about the origin of coal, oil and natural gas, which result from organic matter that is millions of years old that has been broken down and compressed by microorganisms, temperature, and pressure. Since most of the schools/congregations that we worked with were affiliated with the Conservative and Reform movements, we never had to worry about a conflict between modern scientific chronology and traditional Jewish chronology. We were not sure how our program would go over in a Chabad school.
As it turned out, that was the least of our worries. More challenging was the sheer number of young students that poured out of the building. Thank goodness Super-Ben was there to help us. No more than fifteen kids could fit on the bus. I assigned some of the other kids to build solar ovens, and others to roast marshmallows with Super-Ben by focusing sunlight with a sattelite dish covered in aluminum foil. The rest of the kids were allowed to build solar toys that I had bought from a kids' store for just such an emergency. By the end of the day, we had used up almost all of our solar oven materials, one of my solar toys was broken, there was a mess everywhere, and the three of us were so pooped that we hardly had the energy to do anything. On the other hand, the kids loved the program. As children got picked up from school, parent after parent approached us and let us know how excited the children were after our program. We were out of energy and materials, as well as veggie oil for our vehicle, but the program was getting better and better.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Luria
The Luria school was like no other school I have ever seen. It considers itself a Montessori school, which means that it is influenced by the ideas of Maria Montessori, an Italian educator who pioneered an educational philosophy that is student-guided, hands-on, and child-centered. Some of the classes had a wide age range within them in which the older students teach the younger ones. Indeed, the students seemed to be in their element when they were using their hands. As we made solar ovens out of used cereal boxes, I noticed that one kindergarten boy was cutting his box in a very interesting way.
"That's a nice oven," I told him.
"I'm making a car for my dad," he told me with his serious eyes wide open.
As we walked through the hallway to get outside to the bus, we moved in stealth, as if we were on a secret mission. Before we reached the lobby, where the security guard was sitting, Jonathan gathered the kids for a huddle.
"Whenever you are trying to get somewhere and something is blocking you, shower it with love," he told them. As we passed the guard all of the teachers and students blew numerous kisses at the guard. He was smitten by the good vibrations.
Once the kids were on the bus, it was difficult to speak to them. They really wanted Jonathan to drive the bus. "Drive the bus!" one shouted. Jonathan continued the tour of the bus. "Drive the bus!" we heard again. We were hoping that these isolated activists would not start a whole movement, but we were reaching the tipping point. "Drive the bus!" And then, it happened: Jonathan paused and cracked a smile. His momentary lapse of visible joy granted legitimacy to the Drive the Bus movement. Soon enough, every kid was shouting. "Drive the bus! Drive the bus! DRIVE THE BUS!" Jonathan and I were laughing by now, we looked at the teachers and at each other and every smile was broadening.
It is difficult to know what the students remember from our lessons on solar power and birkat hakhamah. But we can know for sure that these kids at Luria will remember watching our topsy-turvy spaceship take off as they stood cheering on the sidewalk.
"That's a nice oven," I told him.
"I'm making a car for my dad," he told me with his serious eyes wide open.
As we walked through the hallway to get outside to the bus, we moved in stealth, as if we were on a secret mission. Before we reached the lobby, where the security guard was sitting, Jonathan gathered the kids for a huddle.
"Whenever you are trying to get somewhere and something is blocking you, shower it with love," he told them. As we passed the guard all of the teachers and students blew numerous kisses at the guard. He was smitten by the good vibrations.
Once the kids were on the bus, it was difficult to speak to them. They really wanted Jonathan to drive the bus. "Drive the bus!" one shouted. Jonathan continued the tour of the bus. "Drive the bus!" we heard again. We were hoping that these isolated activists would not start a whole movement, but we were reaching the tipping point. "Drive the bus!" And then, it happened: Jonathan paused and cracked a smile. His momentary lapse of visible joy granted legitimacy to the Drive the Bus movement. Soon enough, every kid was shouting. "Drive the bus! Drive the bus! DRIVE THE BUS!" Jonathan and I were laughing by now, we looked at the teachers and at each other and every smile was broadening.
It is difficult to know what the students remember from our lessons on solar power and birkat hakhamah. But we can know for sure that these kids at Luria will remember watching our topsy-turvy spaceship take off as they stood cheering on the sidewalk.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Queens J-High Program:
As we left Jersey city we were overwhelmed with how much we had to do. We had to go through Manhattan to get to Queens, avoid the St. Patrick's day parade, and figure out on which highways our oversized vehicle was not welcome. We were running quite low on vegetable oil. Our bus was rejected by the Midtown Bridge to Queens and we drove through densely peopled areas of the city. Sometimes there were whole blocks of people standing with camera phones pointed at us, hoping for a home video of the famous vehicle. We finally made it to Queens with ten minutes before the class was scheduled to begin. I thought perhaps one of us would teach the class and the other would look for restaurants to fuel the bus. Then a lightbulb lit up above Jonathan's head.
The high school kids would accompany us on a grease run. We would kill two birds with one stone.
As we walked to the back of the middle-eastern restaurant, I could tell that these six kids had never been behind a restaurant before. "Is this legal?" one of them wondered out loud. They would never be the same.
Redbeard brought the funnel, the filter and the buckets to the two grimy bins outside of the building. He stationed three kids at each bin and showed them how he wanted them to scoop oil out of the bin and pour it into the buckets through the funnel with a screen. One student offered to be the designated coat carrier. No one wanted the job of actually scooping the putrid oil into the buckets.
As the students waited for someone to volunteer to be the scooper, the one female in the group took a pitcher and started scooping. Although she was dripping oil on her shoes and it was getting on her hands, she didn't flinch. Not wanting to be outdone by a woman, the boys took to scooping themselves. Once everyone had a chance to scoop oil, the atmosphere had changed. The students were delighted to be doing a mitzvah and no one noticed the animal fat and other rancid particulates that were being caught in the filter. Except me. I almost threw up. The stuff we scooped out of those bins was some of the grossest I have ever seen.
There are a lot of people that talk about Bal Tashkhit, the prohibition on needless destruction, but many of them are still stuck in their wasting ways. These kids should be proud that they were actually doing it.
The high school kids would accompany us on a grease run. We would kill two birds with one stone.
As we walked to the back of the middle-eastern restaurant, I could tell that these six kids had never been behind a restaurant before. "Is this legal?" one of them wondered out loud. They would never be the same.
Redbeard brought the funnel, the filter and the buckets to the two grimy bins outside of the building. He stationed three kids at each bin and showed them how he wanted them to scoop oil out of the bin and pour it into the buckets through the funnel with a screen. One student offered to be the designated coat carrier. No one wanted the job of actually scooping the putrid oil into the buckets.
As the students waited for someone to volunteer to be the scooper, the one female in the group took a pitcher and started scooping. Although she was dripping oil on her shoes and it was getting on her hands, she didn't flinch. Not wanting to be outdone by a woman, the boys took to scooping themselves. Once everyone had a chance to scoop oil, the atmosphere had changed. The students were delighted to be doing a mitzvah and no one noticed the animal fat and other rancid particulates that were being caught in the filter. Except me. I almost threw up. The stuff we scooped out of those bins was some of the grossest I have ever seen.
There are a lot of people that talk about Bal Tashkhit, the prohibition on needless destruction, but many of them are still stuck in their wasting ways. These kids should be proud that they were actually doing it.
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