Matot-Masei: On Vows and Vowing

Oh, how we try to wriggle out of vows.

I do it as a parent: "If you don't stop, I'm going to take away x." And then I feel guilty, or like it was a harsh punishment, and I find myself backing off. Another parent recently reminded me, "the trick is never to promise or threaten anything you don't intend to follow through on."

I do it as a partner: "I promise I will be better about a." And then I try to narrow the circumstances where a actually applies.

I do it to myself: "I promise to give my body the chance at a full night's sleep." And here I am staying up past my bedtime to write a blog post.

This week's Parashah, the combined Matot-Masei, opens with "If a man makes a vow to God...he shall not break his pledge." (Never mind that it then diminishes a woman's vow, saying her father or husband can negate it, or allow it to stand. I'm going to assume we all agree that men and women are equal, and thus nobody owns the vow of another.)

Torah has plenty to say about vows. Indeed, it is pretty serious about them, especially those in which we obligate ourselves to actions directed at God or in God's name, but also those in which we obligate ourselves to our neighbors, our planet, even ourselves.

Later Jewish custom wriggles, just like we (I) do in everyday life.

Kol nidre (All Vows) - the title prayer of the service that kicks off Yom Kippur (Day of Atonement) - asks that our vows be annulled, that every serious oath we have taken be wiped out, that we not be held accountable.

No, Judaism doesn't say we can get out of our obligations so simply. Indeed, there were early concerns about the notion of annulling vows. The Jewish Encyclopedia discusses a medieval change in the prayer:

"An important alteration in the wording of the "Kol Nidre" was made by Rashi's son-in-law, Meïr ben Samuel, who changed the original phrase "from the last Day of Atonement until this one" to "from this Day of Atonement until the next." 

The implication in this change is that we shouldn't be making vows to God in the first place, because we are sure to falter. But while this might be a relief (since we might make vows in the heat of a situation), it does effectively wriggle us out ahead of any actual vow-making. And we might therefore think that we can go ahead and make those heat-of-the-moment vows, and other vows, and not really worry about the consequences.

What I fear (and I am not alone in this fear) is that we lose the meaning of vows, and even smaller promises - to God and to people - when we assume we are free because of a prayer recited months ago.

I see this diminishing vow-lue -- in the person who goes into a marriage saying, "well, if it doesn't work out, we can always get a divorce," and in my own practices of self-care, be it what I feed myself or my lack of exercise. 

The Kol Nidre prayer does not, in fact, ensure us freedom from our vows. Even with the prayer, we must still be careful with our promises, and we must nonetheless atone for our failures before we can expect forgiveness.

A vow is a weighty thing - and it should be. Whether we are promising something to a friend or to God, we should feel the obligation of the relationship. We should not enter in expecting that we can simply wriggle out from under that weight easily, lightly. Still, it's nice to know that, if we make a promise and cannot fulfill it, we can be forgiven, even if it takes some emotional, spiritual, even physical work on our part to get there.

How to Teach 2nd Grade From Scratch

As the end of the school year draws near, it's time to reflect on how to teach 2nd grade without an education degree or a teaching certificate.


Step one,

Say yes when the head of school offers you the job. Move right past thinking it is crazy. Never mind what she is thinking offering the job to you - that’s her business. You have to leap at the chance before you think better of it.

Step two,

Call on all that other teaching experience:

Hebrew/Sunday school classes for which you were probably ill-prepared, but there was so little expectation or oversight that it just didn’t matter - and don't forget directing Hebrew schools, including teaching others about how to teach;

College classes for which you prepared detailed syllabi with oodles of reading, and horrid consequences explicitly laid out for plagiarism and cell-phone use in class;

Adult-ed programs for which you prepared too many texts and then wound up relying heavily on student questions.

Take them all, and throw them out the window.

Except maybe the plagiarism consequences, which you might want to save for when a student defies the sign saying “do your best work.”  No - throw out those consequences. They don’t really threaten the college students out of the plagiarism, and you can’t throw a 2nd grader out of class, or the school, for most of that defiant behavior. And trust me, you probably don’t want to. Plus, many second graders can barely read, so the college and adult-ed lessons are pretty useless.

Which brings me to

Step three,

Bring your heart.

Be prepared for it to get broken.

You will fall in love with your students. Really, you must. And if you don’t, then you probably won’t be a great teacher. And if you do, you need the have a great big open mushable, mashable heart, and be prepared for it to be bruised and scratched and torn.

Because content is only part of what you are teaching - and probably the least important part. What you are teaching, what you need to focus on, is character. You are teaching, or better guiding students to push through the hard stuff, to try things they think they can’t do, to get rid of that “can’t do” attitude, to persevere. You are teaching curiosity. No, you can’t teach that.

Nah - forget the word teaching

You are guiding

encouraging

fostering

The students will learn better when you stop teaching. When you see them. When you open the journey to them.

How do you teach 2nd grade? I haven’t a clue. I understand more about how to read a curriculum, how to write goals that I can meet and that students can understand, and how to write and (sort of) stick to a cohesive lesson plan. But teaching day to day? Every day is different, and no matter how well my plans are written, how cohesive and clear they are, I have learned to be flexible and ready for the unexpected.

What I do know, though, is that my students are awesome, and I appreciate every lesson they have for me, planned or otherwise. And I will miss them terribly when the year is over.

Addendum: thoughts that don't quite fit the above narrative
but I want to say them anyway:

• More than a skim of texts about 2nd grade pedagogy, including who 2nd graders are, is actually quite valuable, and probably necessary for sustained work in this field.
• If it weren't for the price many students would have to pay, I would think it valuable for every adult to teach for a year, including all of the preparation involved. As a society, we might respect our teachers more, and possibly compensate them better, recognizing all that they do. And more parents might then approach teachers with a level of compassion and gratitude, out of experience. I know the experience changed how I approach my son's teachers, even when I have a big concern.

(Almost) No Complaints - Follow Up to Last Post

A couple of days ago I wrote about putting a moratorium on complaining - me complaining, since that's who I can control. It's hard!!! I am learning a lot about myself in the process. 

What to do when I step on a tiny piece of glass and it hurts - and hurts even more digging it out? What to do when it takes me hours trying to fill out online forms, trying Mac and PC, unsuccessfully, finally using "old" technology of writing and scanning? What to do when I'm exhausted and don't have time to pause between my toddler, packing, and looking for an apartment in the city I will arrive in next week? 

A couple of things of note: 

1) When I choose not to complain, I often am silent - at least for a long time.

2) I can do different things with that silence: grumble and complain internally, this blowing one of the main reasons to stop complaining; or contemplate the root of my complaint and whether to say something or do something in lieu of complaint that might help resolve things more positively. 

3) A lot of that contemplation is leading to an understanding of my complaints often being a response to grief over losses ranging from something happening (or not) outside my hopes/expectations, to "good" losses like purging so much stuff from my life and learning to live differently. 

4) Not complaining might be really hard, but I already feel a sense of integrity increasing as a result of the practice. 

So what do I do in those moments when I really have a kvetch itching to get out? I have been pausing, even with no time to pause. I have been looking at my son an enjoying his sweetness, even/especially when he spots the baby chair he has outgrown, already out on the curb, and brings it back in. 

The practice brings me back to the core teachings of Mussar: to be awake to our impact in relationship with each and every person we encounter, whether for a moment or longstanding connections; and not only the impact on them, but on me as well.

And so, I seek and find joy even when I just want to gripe (or scream). I even shed a few tears, which are so much more cathartic than complaining. 

And yes, a few complaints sneak through. And I try not to be too hard on myself.