(This was first written about a year ago but seemed applicable enough today)
When I began to inquire about what school would be like for my daughter, I heard this:
"Make sure she speaks Hebrew in the Gan. Kids can be so mean. They'll call her Russian."
The Israelis were clearly concerned that our background as Russian-American-Religious would be a constant hindrance to what we, in Israel, term the "Chevre."
Speaking mostly Russian, my child entered Gan. After a week she was transformed into a singing, conversing, Israeli child. To those concerned that her linguistic preferences might keep her on the out's in the schoolyard, a proud parental moment presented itself.
Returning home, I found my 3 year old looking slightly stormy. My husband explained that she was apprehended by her Gannenet. The Chevre were caught wetting toilet paper and tossing it at the wall. 5 children total.
Clearly unacceptable. I thought of her sitting in the "Meditation Corner" being disciplined for this foray off the track of playful impishness towards preschool monster, and yet, couldn't help but be proud of this tiny person's ability to triumph and become a true Israeli child.
The odds are against her.
Friends enjoy cheese on white bread, she eats peanut butter and jelly packed in reusable pouches. When they receive candy in class (and there is always candy), she has fruit. Other children bring baggies of goodies for their birthday, her birthday in Elul included over 20 handmade fairy-castle-glitter invites and two total attendees.
In review, she is a totally Israeli child, her 3 year old Chutzpah is proof. I'm the one a bit out of place. I'm the immigrant, not her.
When I began to inquire about what school would be like for my daughter, I heard this:
"Make sure she speaks Hebrew in the Gan. Kids can be so mean. They'll call her Russian."
The Israelis were clearly concerned that our background as Russian-American-Religious would be a constant hindrance to what we, in Israel, term the "Chevre."
Speaking mostly Russian, my child entered Gan. After a week she was transformed into a singing, conversing, Israeli child. To those concerned that her linguistic preferences might keep her on the out's in the schoolyard, a proud parental moment presented itself.
Returning home, I found my 3 year old looking slightly stormy. My husband explained that she was apprehended by her Gannenet. The Chevre were caught wetting toilet paper and tossing it at the wall. 5 children total.
Clearly unacceptable. I thought of her sitting in the "Meditation Corner" being disciplined for this foray off the track of playful impishness towards preschool monster, and yet, couldn't help but be proud of this tiny person's ability to triumph and become a true Israeli child.
The odds are against her.
Friends enjoy cheese on white bread, she eats peanut butter and jelly packed in reusable pouches. When they receive candy in class (and there is always candy), she has fruit. Other children bring baggies of goodies for their birthday, her birthday in Elul included over 20 handmade fairy-castle-glitter invites and two total attendees.
In review, she is a totally Israeli child, her 3 year old Chutzpah is proof. I'm the one a bit out of place. I'm the immigrant, not her.
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