My Flame: two perspectives

Large red flames dance towards the heavens. As they cavort about, I wonder. What is the fire in my life? Where is my passion? Where is my focus? A fire is concentrated light. It is a force to be reckoned with. I want some of that energy in my life!

Lag B'omer is a mystical day. A celebration of the passing of the Rashbi. Really? To celebrate death?

But the Rashbi is about light, life and whisperings of the soul. The Rashbi helped access those secret whisperings of G-dliness and bring them to the light of day. I need more of that in my life. I need the oil of Torah's inner dimensions to fan my flames and keep me going. I need more Chassidus.

The highlight of the day was visiting a real bonfire. My son expressed concern about fire, so we spoke about good and bad fires all day long. Actually, we've been preparing for this day for months with these sorts of discussions.

While frying eggs: "It's fire, Mama!"
While lighting Shabbos candles: "Don't touch the fire!"
While playing with imaginary toys: "This is my fire."

As you can see, it's been an obsession of sorts. I don't mind, as long as its the good fire, the passionate, focused energy fueled by positivity.

Young Avraham

They finally convinced me. My students asked several times for permission to watch the Young Avraham Animation Film. This would be during class time, naturally. Though I was personally interested in seeing the film, I was rather reluctant to give up class time for it. Trust me, it was worth it.

Avraham's birth

A video captures the heart in a way that it is hard for text to emulate. Videos speak to an emotional level; texts to the intellect. Young Avraham really brings the medrashim to life. We watched the video after learning the material, so the girls' questions were based on the material they had studied. I only wish there was a viewers guide listing the meforshim the film is based on. I would love to use that as my curriculum, then highlight our learning with the final viewing. Alternatively, we could watch and query (as they were) and WRITE DOWN the questions. Then, they should be motivated enough by their own curiosity to research the answers on their own.

Theory aside, there was one scene that moved me most as a mother. Avram managed to escape from Nimrod's soldiers and returned home to his delighted mother. Amthalia encouraged her child to leave. Did you hear that? The mother sent her son away. Sure, he was threatened with death at the moment so there was little other recourse. Still, I was moved by the scene. Picture it: a mother letting go of her child. I struggle with that image.

True, our goal as parents is to form separate beings, individuals who can give of their own strengths and talents to the world. I hope to give my children wings to fly and discover their own truths. Still, ouch! I want to cuddle my babies forever, not let go of them! That takes real courage, Amthalia. You are my role model today. I needed this lesson. Yesterday I picked up my toddler early, just to hang out with him. By day's end, I was rather irritated. I had stacks of preparation and marking to do and the house was messier than usual. Maybe I need to give my little guy some more space. Sigh. The trials of a working mother.

Should the film be a finale or trigger to our learning unit?

Four More Questions

1. Why is this student different from all other students?
2. How does one tolerate her incessant queries?
3. How could I diffuse her classmates' frustration?
4. What can I, personally, gain out of this experience? [Credit to Rochi and Rivki]


Shoshi* is in Seder-mode all year long. She doesn't miss a thing and questions every detail of my lecture until it is absolutely clear to her. Most teachers and classmates are bothered by her endless queries. Not me. She charmed me on day one with the most gorgeous smile ever, so I am completely won over. Besides, I admire her sincerity (and focus!).

Pirkei Avot teaches that the shy student will not learn (לא הבישן למד). I've seen it time and again. Students are too often afraid to raise their hands. I wonder about it...

• Perhaps they are lacking poker chips that day and are afraid of sounding dumb. I've tried to assure students that asking is harmless, to no avail. 
• Teachers may be known for giving pat answers, or simply missing the main point of the question. The student feels like the teacher wasn't paying attention, leaving her to wonder why she bothered asking. (It's true, the teacher is too busy thinking of how to respond!)
• Perhaps the student witnessed or experienced an intense reaction to a questioning student and decided to lay low. Surely that is why the Mishna concludes with ולא הקפדן מלמד, "a short-tempered person cannot teach [effectively]." (Technically the Mishna's קפדן could be translated as a nit-picking, strict or easily provoked person)

There's a new phenomena going in our household and I am just over the moon with it. About two weeks ago Daniel started asking "why?" The first time he did it I was stunned and super excited to realize that we'd hit a new stage. Since then, every directive is followed with a long conversation breaking the idea down to the smallest particles. The results are similar to after a session with Shoshi. I end up wondering about the real, ultimate why.

And that is why I love to teach and mother. There is a real purpose to life. There is a reason why.

Why do you think people are afraid to ask questions?

*Name changed to protect student's identity