Congregation Ohav Sholom

The Israel Experience - Teaching English and Living in Beit Shemesh

The Israel Experience - Teaching English and Living in Beit Shemesh

by Michael Rosenbloom (spidermr@aol.com)

Frequently, time and distance seem to sweeten memories. Such is the case when reminiscing about the two years I spent living in Beit Shemesh, one of which was spent teaching English to high school students there. The simple facts are that I no longer live in Beit Shemesh nor teach there. I'm not even in the teaching field today. So how pleasant could it have been? Still, I will always remember the years from 1978 through 1980 with fondness.

In 1978, Beit Shemesh was a development town, meaning it was populated almost exclusively by Oriental Jews. My neighbors, students and friends were Jews of Yemenite, Moroccan, Persian and Iraqi descent. On a hill called Givat Sharet was the beginning of an exclusive neighborhood for those who were well to do, such as business people and politicians. But for the most part, Beit Shemesh was a small, poor town, with a small town mentality. The townspeople would literally gape at a newcomer until they learned his business. For an American from Brooklyn, it was a strange experience. I literally would be stared at my first few months there, as if I had descended from another planet. At first, I missed the big city feeling of anonymity. Upon getting to know me and my business there, the people quickly warmed up to me and vice versa.

Beit Shemesh is in a convenient location, about a 25-minute car ride southwest of Jerusalem, in the foothills of the Judean mountains. It is mentioned in the book of Samuel as the place where the Holy Ark was brought after it was recaptured from the Phillistines. And Tel-Beit Shemesh, the site of biblical Beit Shemesh can still be visited, though not much is visible.

I spent my first summer as a new immigrant in 1978 in an absorption center in East Talpiot, Jerusalem, before moving my belongings to Beit Shemesh. Upon arriving in Beit Shemesh, I was allotted a one bedroom, 4th floor walk-up flat in the top story of an apartment building. I was also allotted the supplies that the Jewish Agency provided to single new immigrants: a table, chair, bed, mattress, light bulb, plastic plates, utensils and other odds and ends. I had other belongings, which were being shipped in a container. But that wouldn't arrive for months.

School started shortly after, and I was given one ninth, tenth, eleventh and twelfth grade class. My tenth grade class was the best of all my classes, a class studying toward the "Bagrut" or full matriculation diploma. Such a diploma is prerequisite for university studies.

I quickly caught on that students wouldn't give a second thought about copying answers from one another on exams. For each exam, I would draft two separate versions of the same test to hand out to odd and even rows. I have heard several theories espoused for this propensity to cheat and for the willingness of fellow students to let others copy from them. My favorite is that the students viewed exams as their elder brothers and sisters in the army would approach a military mission: as a group effort, in which no one is to be left behind. Years later, some of my students boasted that despite my efforts, they succeeded in cheating on my exams.

Often on Fridays, I would bring my guitar to school and hand out various mimeographed sheets containing lyrics to songs by the Beatles or Simon & Garfunkle for example. We would sing the songs together, accompanied by my guitar. My students loved Fridays. The truth is so did I.

The school principal was a tall fellow, about 40 years old, named Aryeh Rogel, who was almost always of stern demeanor. He walked with a limp due to an injury suffered in one of Israel's wars. Aryeh took a liking to me and at the end of the school year, offered me a tenured teaching position. While I appreciated the gesture, I was no longer interested in teaching. Many friends and family in Israel voiced their surprise at my decision, despite the tenure offer. I found it curious though that such a premium was placed on tenure. For me, not being able to be fired from a poorly paid job simply held no extra attraction. However, such was the mentality and I suppose it's not surprising in a society so bloated in the public sector, especially at a time not so far removed from harsher economic times.

I'll always remember teaching, for the long hours I spent making lesson plans and the perplexingly low correlation between time spent in lesson preparation and the eventual success or failure of the lesson. There was nothing like the high of a successful lesson, one in which the students are motivated and energized. Conversely, there was nothing as depressing as a lesson that failed.

My teaching experience was useful not only because it helped me weed out a profession I wouldn't have been happy in had I continued. It was also useful because it gave me a way of entering a closed society full of caring individuals, capable of great depth of feelings and warmth. I had a tremendous rapport with my students, many of whom would not hesitate to knock on my door to ask a question about English or to share an experience with me. When I got married in 1981, several of my students attended the wedding. I will always have a soft spot in my heart for the residents of Beit Shemesh and for the year I taught there.

October 2000

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