I heard it again today. The twenty-something mom saying about her six-week-old infant: hu kazeh ben! Translation: “He’s all boy”. Tip: If you want to see me go ballistic, this is the perfect way to do it. Since I wasn’t part of the conversation, I managed to control myself and make do with an eyeroll and a sigh, but what my shadow was doing was tapping her on the shoulder and saying:
“Excuse me. This is 2009. How is it that you’re twenty-eight years old and you sound like my grandmother? Have we gone backwards? Are we devolving? Was feminism just a blip?"
That's right: Despite what you choose to believe, feminism is too about combating gender stereotypes; if we perpetuate stereotypes, how can we honestly say that our children have choices? Sorry, Millennials: Despite what you may believe, feminism is not “the choice to dress my girl in girly-garb if I want; I’m secure in my feminism. I’m liberated.” Mom, you may feel liberated, but your job is far from done.
Let’s take a minute and break this down: You say your son is “all boy”. Even if I chose to buy into stereotypes, this doesn’t parse. What is he doing at age six weeks that’s typically masculine? Is he smoking cigars? Watching a prize fight on ESPN? Saying “hubba hubba” as a blond bombshell passes by? Fast-forward 16 years. If he were doing any of the above, would you be saying glowingly of him, “He’s all boy!”?
I’m thinking you’ll say no. I’m thinking you probably want your son to have more substance than a cartoon version of “boy” or “man”. If you do, then how come you’re starting now — at age six weeks — to push a cartoon agenda, if only in your own mind? At what point does it stop being in your own mind and begin to be absorbed by him? When he starts to understand language? Age two? Three? At that point, will you jump up and “insert the Human Being disk into your son’s CD drive” and quit referring to him as “all boy” / relating to him as a stereotype?
Mom, wouldn’t it be simpler to insert the Human Being disk now, rather than have to uninstall the cartoon program later on? Consider substituting for “He’s all boy!” > “He’s exquisite. I’ve never seen anything quite like him. I’m crazy about him!” There. Didn’t that feel wonderful?
Friday, October 30, 2009
Monday, October 5, 2009
Has anyone else had it with NYCentrism?
Has anyone else had it with NYCentrism? I’m referring to the assumption on some people’s parts that not only is New York City the center of the planet, but that it’s everyone else’s reference point.
This morning I happened to sit down at breakfast across from a women who proceeded to wax on about the Village and “the Park” [I assume Washington Square Park] and Bleecker Street, nodding at me earnestly the entire time as if we’d grown up together next door to the Village Gate. I honestly thought she might have mistaken me for someone else.
We hadn’t been introduced; in fact, I hadn’t uttered a word, so there was no way she had of knowing that I’m even a native English speaker, much less whether I’d ever so much as stepped foot in North America. For all she knew, I’d just dropped in for the day from Afghanistan. But the galling assumption not only that I’d been to NYC, was familiar with it, and share her cultural references, was simply over the top.
Anyone else been in this situation, and does it bother you?
This morning I happened to sit down at breakfast across from a women who proceeded to wax on about the Village and “the Park” [I assume Washington Square Park] and Bleecker Street, nodding at me earnestly the entire time as if we’d grown up together next door to the Village Gate. I honestly thought she might have mistaken me for someone else.
We hadn’t been introduced; in fact, I hadn’t uttered a word, so there was no way she had of knowing that I’m even a native English speaker, much less whether I’d ever so much as stepped foot in North America. For all she knew, I’d just dropped in for the day from Afghanistan. But the galling assumption not only that I’d been to NYC, was familiar with it, and share her cultural references, was simply over the top.
Anyone else been in this situation, and does it bother you?
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Fashion 4 Teachers לבוש הולם לְמורים
The subject of teacher dress codes עברית reminds me of two juxtaposing articles that appeared in recent years in Haaretz: One during the 2006 teachers’ strike, profiling a male junior high teacher who owned but one work outfit, but took care to come to work every day dressed in a clean dress shirt and pressed pants. He told the reporter he wants to set an example for his students. He gets it, I thought. I nearly cried with gratitude. God bless you, wherever you are, haMorèh*.
The other article told about some unique 6th grade curriculum being implemented in a classroom somewhere in the Center, perhaps it was Holon. The accompanying photo showed the teacher surrounded by her students, wearing a dress that revealed a cleavage the size of the Suez Canal. It reminded me of a teacher in my kids’ school: She’s in her mid-fifties and as my friend observed, she seems to reveal more skin every year. Has anyone reminded this woman that she’s teaching teenagers, not a teenager herself?
Ms. Livneh, I beg to disagree with you: What we wear does affect those around us, especially those in appearance-oriented occupations such as teaching. How are adolescent boys supposed to ignore exposed breasts and heady perfume? How are the girls supposed to respect someone who looks like their peer? I’m not suggesting that teachers should have to dress like nuns, but yes, they need to look businesslike; they are doing an indoor job that doesn’t involve cleaning or heavy lifting, they are meeting the public, and they should dress commensurately.
Regardless of the amount of skin showing, I also admit that I’ve never gotten used to the Israeli concept that it’s perfectly acceptable for female teachers to dress flamboyantly. What’s up with the two-toned nails in day-glo colors, the magenta hair, earrings the size of hubcaps, and the hooker shoes? Can you honestly say that these are conducive to teaching? At the very least, that they aren’t distracting?
Ms. Livneh, your reminiscences in the second-to-last paragraph have no worth other than as anecdotes. You may attribute your students’ success in English to the teacher’s wardrobe, and the literature teacher may have been unpopular, but it wasn’t about his clothing. And while it is true that reducing class size, raising salaries, and bolstering teachers’ status are certainly called for, I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss the idea of dress codes.
Not only would teachers dressing appropriately for their jobs likely go a long way toward their gaining the respect of both students and parents ― but guess what? It doesn’t cost the taxpayer one agorah!
The other article told about some unique 6th grade curriculum being implemented in a classroom somewhere in the Center, perhaps it was Holon. The accompanying photo showed the teacher surrounded by her students, wearing a dress that revealed a cleavage the size of the Suez Canal. It reminded me of a teacher in my kids’ school: She’s in her mid-fifties and as my friend observed, she seems to reveal more skin every year. Has anyone reminded this woman that she’s teaching teenagers, not a teenager herself?
Ms. Livneh, I beg to disagree with you: What we wear does affect those around us, especially those in appearance-oriented occupations such as teaching. How are adolescent boys supposed to ignore exposed breasts and heady perfume? How are the girls supposed to respect someone who looks like their peer? I’m not suggesting that teachers should have to dress like nuns, but yes, they need to look businesslike; they are doing an indoor job that doesn’t involve cleaning or heavy lifting, they are meeting the public, and they should dress commensurately.
Regardless of the amount of skin showing, I also admit that I’ve never gotten used to the Israeli concept that it’s perfectly acceptable for female teachers to dress flamboyantly. What’s up with the two-toned nails in day-glo colors, the magenta hair, earrings the size of hubcaps, and the hooker shoes? Can you honestly say that these are conducive to teaching? At the very least, that they aren’t distracting?
Ms. Livneh, your reminiscences in the second-to-last paragraph have no worth other than as anecdotes. You may attribute your students’ success in English to the teacher’s wardrobe, and the literature teacher may have been unpopular, but it wasn’t about his clothing. And while it is true that reducing class size, raising salaries, and bolstering teachers’ status are certainly called for, I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss the idea of dress codes.
Not only would teachers dressing appropriately for their jobs likely go a long way toward their gaining the respect of both students and parents ― but guess what? It doesn’t cost the taxpayer one agorah!
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Israel's Retail Culture תרבות הקניות
Whenever anyone asks me if there’s anything I miss about the States, I don’t even hestitate to reply: The retail culture. Notice I did not say “consumer culture”, which I abhor, and which I define as the drive to buy, buy, buy regardless of the effect on our planet or the humans thereon. What I mean by retail culture is the fact that in the States, the shopper is treated like the very royalty whose eschewance the Land of the Free is founded upon, whether shopping at Family Dollar or at Nordstroms -- true equality.
I grew up in the epitome of Shopping Land -- the Midwest ‘burbs -- where every component of The Shopping Experience, from the spaces-as-far-as-the-eye-can-see free parking to the Have-A-Nice-Day! Return and Exchange Policy are geared toward Getting You Inside The Store, Enticing You To Stay As Long As Possible, and Getting You To Come Back. Makes sense to me that if you’re selling something, you want to makes things as painless, simple, easy, and convenient for your customers as possible. Why, then, are Israeli retailers still stuck in Soviet-style Supply-Side-Rules-And-The-Customer-Can-Blow-Me mode?
I get that not everything is under the retailer’s control: Space in Israel is at a premium, so we’re stuck with cramped parking, narrow aisles, and telephone booth-sized fitting rooms. But everything else is doable, including:
1. Atmosphere - When I enter your store, I want to hear Muzak. That’s right, Muzak, or at the very least, I don’t want to feel trance music pulsing through my being, played at so loud a volume that I can’t hear myself think.
2. Cleanliness - I usually have to use the bathroom at some point during shopping. I was recently in an H&O whose bathroom wasn’t fit for a junkie to shoot up in. I went to see the manager and asked him if he would let his own daughter use the bathroom there. He said he’d “check it out”. Right. HaMashbir is slightly better: They supply toilet paper and occasionally a squeeze bottle of all-purpose soap, complete with drippings down the sides, to wash your hands with. Towels or dryers? You’ve gotta be kidding -- who dya think you are? The Jordanian royal family? You must have us confused with a business that wants its customers to stay as long as possible and buy stuff.
3. Fitting rooms - Have Enough Of Them. No one should have to wait to try on clothing. And while they may be small, there’s no reason they can’t contain: 1) An ottoman to place your belongings on; 2) Hooks to hang clothing on; and 3) A full-length mirror. You retailers who put the mirrors on the outside of the doors? So transparent. You think we’re stupid? We know you just want to force us out of the fitting room so you can talk us into buying whatever we’re trying on. Recently at Fox, my daughter was trying on a cute gray shirt emblazoned with “The One & Only” (one of the less offensive messages on Israeli clothing). She was checking out her reflection in the extra-fitting room mirror and said to me, “I’ll take it” ― ding-ding-ding, that’s called a sale ― when a sales clerk said to her, “You’re fair-skinned. You need another color, like pink.” Predictably, the same shirt in the pink version was emblazoned with “Never Dance Alone”. My daughter was flustered. I ignored Sales Clerk and told her, “Honey, the gray looks good on you, and the message on the pink one is cheap”. The sales clerk continued to argue. I turned to her and said, “She wants the gray one”, thinking, What is the matter with you, Lady? She likes the item; she wants to purchase it. Hands off!
OK, we’ve decided on our purchases. Now let’s move on to the ordeal known as…
4. Checkout - I have never seen all three (or at most four) registers staffed at an Israeli store. Never. Yesterday I was at Mega ba’Ir at 17:30, peak shopping time, and as I approached the checkout, the cashier informed me she was closing her register -- at peak time, mind you. I had three items. The “Express Lane” line reached all the way to Taba. I opted to stay in a regular lane. We moved forward at a snail's pace and waited 'til the customer before me argued with the cashier about the price, then had to rummage around for her vouchers, then couldn't find enough cash...just the way I wanted to spend my afternoon.
At haMashbir recently, only one of two registers was open. I dutifully got into the line, which reached all the way to Nuweiba. I stopped every sales clerk that passed me and asked to have the other register opened. Most looked at me like I’d dropped in from Mars. One actually had the gall to reply, “Why? The line’s not that long”. In contrast, when I worked as a KMart cashier in high school, as soon as a supervisor noticed shoppers having to wait in line behind more than two other shoppers, it was: “Miriam, open Register 16, and hustle”. Why do Israeli retailers hire just less than enough staff? And why can they not train all employees to operate a register? Is it that complicated?
5. Flawed merchandise - In the States, cashiers have the Authority Vested In Them to give a standard discount on flawed merchandise, usually 10%. Here in Israel? Forget it. First of all, no personnel has any authority to make any decision whatsoever beyond how she’ll have her nails sculpted. So I’ve learned to just skip over the lowlings and ask to speak to the Shift Manager. Recently a Shift Manager at H&O grudgingly gave me 5% off a tank top with a stain in front, warning me, “Realize that this is it. No returns or exhanges. It’s yours.” Oooooh. Real scary. I wanted to say to her, “Honey, I’m doing you a favor. No one else’ll buy this, and you’d be forced to let it go for way less than 5% at the end of the season, when you’ll be stuck with it. Instead I’m taking it off your hands now.”
6. Returns - I like to say that you can walk up to Customer Service at KMart with a pair of sneakers you bought in 1965 and return them, explaining, “My boyfriend doesn’t like the color on me”. It’s an exaggeration, but not much of one. At Target, I recently returned a pair of earrings that I’d already worn, explaining that they were heavy and made my earlobes sore. Within five seconds I had my money back ― cash ― with a smile. You can bet I’ll be back at Target ― again and again and again. In contrast, I bought a futon frame at Futon ba’Ir that broke after ten days. The store had the chutzpa to offer me store credit, as if a futon is a staple you buy every day, like a pair of socks. At Mixer, when I wanted to return a fridge magnet whose magnet had fallen out on my way home, the sculpted-nail teen running the register told me, “My supplier won’t take it back.” And this is my problem? We’re talking a ₪5 doodad, for God’s sake.
Now I’ll tell you about my two most recent restaurant complaints. After eating at Passador in Eilat, I wrote the management a letter containing several complaints, including loud music inappropriate to an eating establishment; a giant-screen TV on the Fashion Channel, forcing me to stare at cleavages as I dined; chincy portions; and unimaginative presentation (no garnishes, etc.). The very nice manager called me and assured me that all had been rectified and invited me back so he could prove it. But. Didn’t. Offer. A freebie. No free dessert, not even a free beverage, much less a free entrée or complete meal. Sorry, not gambling in that establishment again.
At Aroma recently I ordered a Health Sandwich, whose ingredients can only be described with the British “sodden”. And it contained, of all things, sliced zuchinni. I wrote to the chain that 1) The sandwich wasn’t fresh and 2) The reason I didn’t know I’d be getting zuchinni [why not avocado?] was because the menu’s writing was so tiny that I was too impatient to read the entire ingredient list. I got a letter back from someone named Reuven telling me 1) I should’ve told the [sculpted-nail teenage] staff and 2) Describing to me in detail Aroma’s quality assurance practices.
I wrote back saying that he hadn’t addressed my complaints. Particularly, the staff has no control over the menu, nor could they change it on the spot. I got another letter informing me that the Eilat Big Aroma branch would be thoroughly investigated. Then I got a call from Avner, the manager, with the same rigamarole I got from Reuven, inviting me to come in and “discuss it over coffee”.
Avner and Reuven, wherever you are, I don’t need your lengthy explanations and invitations to coffee. Send me a voucher for a free cup of coffee, or a ₪25 gift card…anything, but give me something to compensate me besides verbose letters and phone calls that take up my time. Show me some good faith; demonstrate to me that you’re interested in my future business! I’m not interested in meeting you, I don’t want your company; I just want a reasonable product in exchange for my money!
Then there are the institutions and businesses that don't even bother replying: Ben-Gurion Airport, when I wrote in to its Feedback telling them that they should redo their signs to make them more comprehensible to the public, i.e, referring to Terminal 1 as "International Terminal" and Terminal 2 as "Domestic Terminal"; and the ones like the City of Jerusalem, who wrote back to tell me that there's no reason to label the bus station as such, thank you. They apparently think it's superfluous to label the building. Yet it's important that Clal Center bear prominent ads on its facade for a retail establishment that sells sex toys, in the middle of the city holy to three faiths. And to think there's a commentor out there who thinks I do this for recreation...
Israelis do a tremendous amount of marketing research; I know this first-hand, because I edit reams of it. When, oh when, is any of its findings going to be applied down here on the ground? When am I, the ordinary consumer, going to see the results???
I grew up in the epitome of Shopping Land -- the Midwest ‘burbs -- where every component of The Shopping Experience, from the spaces-as-far-as-the-eye-can-see free parking to the Have-A-Nice-Day! Return and Exchange Policy are geared toward Getting You Inside The Store, Enticing You To Stay As Long As Possible, and Getting You To Come Back. Makes sense to me that if you’re selling something, you want to makes things as painless, simple, easy, and convenient for your customers as possible. Why, then, are Israeli retailers still stuck in Soviet-style Supply-Side-Rules-And-The-Customer-Can-Blow-Me mode?
I get that not everything is under the retailer’s control: Space in Israel is at a premium, so we’re stuck with cramped parking, narrow aisles, and telephone booth-sized fitting rooms. But everything else is doable, including:
1. Atmosphere - When I enter your store, I want to hear Muzak. That’s right, Muzak, or at the very least, I don’t want to feel trance music pulsing through my being, played at so loud a volume that I can’t hear myself think.
2. Cleanliness - I usually have to use the bathroom at some point during shopping. I was recently in an H&O whose bathroom wasn’t fit for a junkie to shoot up in. I went to see the manager and asked him if he would let his own daughter use the bathroom there. He said he’d “check it out”. Right. HaMashbir is slightly better: They supply toilet paper and occasionally a squeeze bottle of all-purpose soap, complete with drippings down the sides, to wash your hands with. Towels or dryers? You’ve gotta be kidding -- who dya think you are? The Jordanian royal family? You must have us confused with a business that wants its customers to stay as long as possible and buy stuff.
3. Fitting rooms - Have Enough Of Them. No one should have to wait to try on clothing. And while they may be small, there’s no reason they can’t contain: 1) An ottoman to place your belongings on; 2) Hooks to hang clothing on; and 3) A full-length mirror. You retailers who put the mirrors on the outside of the doors? So transparent. You think we’re stupid? We know you just want to force us out of the fitting room so you can talk us into buying whatever we’re trying on. Recently at Fox, my daughter was trying on a cute gray shirt emblazoned with “The One & Only” (one of the less offensive messages on Israeli clothing). She was checking out her reflection in the extra-fitting room mirror and said to me, “I’ll take it” ― ding-ding-ding, that’s called a sale ― when a sales clerk said to her, “You’re fair-skinned. You need another color, like pink.” Predictably, the same shirt in the pink version was emblazoned with “Never Dance Alone”. My daughter was flustered. I ignored Sales Clerk and told her, “Honey, the gray looks good on you, and the message on the pink one is cheap”. The sales clerk continued to argue. I turned to her and said, “She wants the gray one”, thinking, What is the matter with you, Lady? She likes the item; she wants to purchase it. Hands off!
OK, we’ve decided on our purchases. Now let’s move on to the ordeal known as…
4. Checkout - I have never seen all three (or at most four) registers staffed at an Israeli store. Never. Yesterday I was at Mega ba’Ir at 17:30, peak shopping time, and as I approached the checkout, the cashier informed me she was closing her register -- at peak time, mind you. I had three items. The “Express Lane” line reached all the way to Taba. I opted to stay in a regular lane. We moved forward at a snail's pace and waited 'til the customer before me argued with the cashier about the price, then had to rummage around for her vouchers, then couldn't find enough cash...just the way I wanted to spend my afternoon.
At haMashbir recently, only one of two registers was open. I dutifully got into the line, which reached all the way to Nuweiba. I stopped every sales clerk that passed me and asked to have the other register opened. Most looked at me like I’d dropped in from Mars. One actually had the gall to reply, “Why? The line’s not that long”. In contrast, when I worked as a KMart cashier in high school, as soon as a supervisor noticed shoppers having to wait in line behind more than two other shoppers, it was: “Miriam, open Register 16, and hustle”. Why do Israeli retailers hire just less than enough staff? And why can they not train all employees to operate a register? Is it that complicated?
5. Flawed merchandise - In the States, cashiers have the Authority Vested In Them to give a standard discount on flawed merchandise, usually 10%. Here in Israel? Forget it. First of all, no personnel has any authority to make any decision whatsoever beyond how she’ll have her nails sculpted. So I’ve learned to just skip over the lowlings and ask to speak to the Shift Manager. Recently a Shift Manager at H&O grudgingly gave me 5% off a tank top with a stain in front, warning me, “Realize that this is it. No returns or exhanges. It’s yours.” Oooooh. Real scary. I wanted to say to her, “Honey, I’m doing you a favor. No one else’ll buy this, and you’d be forced to let it go for way less than 5% at the end of the season, when you’ll be stuck with it. Instead I’m taking it off your hands now.”
6. Returns - I like to say that you can walk up to Customer Service at KMart with a pair of sneakers you bought in 1965 and return them, explaining, “My boyfriend doesn’t like the color on me”. It’s an exaggeration, but not much of one. At Target, I recently returned a pair of earrings that I’d already worn, explaining that they were heavy and made my earlobes sore. Within five seconds I had my money back ― cash ― with a smile. You can bet I’ll be back at Target ― again and again and again. In contrast, I bought a futon frame at Futon ba’Ir that broke after ten days. The store had the chutzpa to offer me store credit, as if a futon is a staple you buy every day, like a pair of socks. At Mixer, when I wanted to return a fridge magnet whose magnet had fallen out on my way home, the sculpted-nail teen running the register told me, “My supplier won’t take it back.” And this is my problem? We’re talking a ₪5 doodad, for God’s sake.
Now I’ll tell you about my two most recent restaurant complaints. After eating at Passador in Eilat, I wrote the management a letter containing several complaints, including loud music inappropriate to an eating establishment; a giant-screen TV on the Fashion Channel, forcing me to stare at cleavages as I dined; chincy portions; and unimaginative presentation (no garnishes, etc.). The very nice manager called me and assured me that all had been rectified and invited me back so he could prove it. But. Didn’t. Offer. A freebie. No free dessert, not even a free beverage, much less a free entrée or complete meal. Sorry, not gambling in that establishment again.
At Aroma recently I ordered a Health Sandwich, whose ingredients can only be described with the British “sodden”. And it contained, of all things, sliced zuchinni. I wrote to the chain that 1) The sandwich wasn’t fresh and 2) The reason I didn’t know I’d be getting zuchinni [why not avocado?] was because the menu’s writing was so tiny that I was too impatient to read the entire ingredient list. I got a letter back from someone named Reuven telling me 1) I should’ve told the [sculpted-nail teenage] staff and 2) Describing to me in detail Aroma’s quality assurance practices.
I wrote back saying that he hadn’t addressed my complaints. Particularly, the staff has no control over the menu, nor could they change it on the spot. I got another letter informing me that the Eilat Big Aroma branch would be thoroughly investigated. Then I got a call from Avner, the manager, with the same rigamarole I got from Reuven, inviting me to come in and “discuss it over coffee”.
Avner and Reuven, wherever you are, I don’t need your lengthy explanations and invitations to coffee. Send me a voucher for a free cup of coffee, or a ₪25 gift card…anything, but give me something to compensate me besides verbose letters and phone calls that take up my time. Show me some good faith; demonstrate to me that you’re interested in my future business! I’m not interested in meeting you, I don’t want your company; I just want a reasonable product in exchange for my money!
Then there are the institutions and businesses that don't even bother replying: Ben-Gurion Airport, when I wrote in to its Feedback telling them that they should redo their signs to make them more comprehensible to the public, i.e, referring to Terminal 1 as "International Terminal" and Terminal 2 as "Domestic Terminal"; and the ones like the City of Jerusalem, who wrote back to tell me that there's no reason to label the bus station as such, thank you. They apparently think it's superfluous to label the building. Yet it's important that Clal Center bear prominent ads on its facade for a retail establishment that sells sex toys, in the middle of the city holy to three faiths. And to think there's a commentor out there who thinks I do this for recreation...
Israelis do a tremendous amount of marketing research; I know this first-hand, because I edit reams of it. When, oh when, is any of its findings going to be applied down here on the ground? When am I, the ordinary consumer, going to see the results???
Monday, August 24, 2009
Back-to-school Special on Master's Degrees מבצע בתארי ב'
Research question: Can kibbutz [principles] be applied in the developing world?
The researcher: She arrived unannounced on a Saturday and figured she could finish interviewing (five members of my income-sharing community) by sundown, with no prior notice.
She couldn’t string together three words.
She took handwritten notes in a cutesy hardback Blank Book adorned with dolphins: no laptop, no recording device.
She was unable to answer my question about the use of the word pseudonym that appeared on the waiver she gave me to sign after she’d finished “interviewing” me, saying, “I think it's like ‘he’ or ‘she’”. "No," I explained. "‘He’ and ‘she’ are pronouns."
She didn’t connect the dots: After I told her that my reaction to an article I’d read in the mid-1980s about Tlalim was that it wouldn’t last, much later she asked me, “Are there any kibbutzes that didn’t last”? Honey, I just handed this one to you on a silver platter ten minutes ago. Go Google it (duh) and find out!
When she asked me if I "had any ties to the other kibbutzes" in the area, I replied, not particularly, but suggested she look them up, as each surely has a site. Her response: "Oh, yeah. Good idea".
She completely missed key thoughts. She asked, “What about adaptability? You guys seem adaptable”. I replied, “What one person thinks of as adapting, another might call selling out”. If not a gem, a tidbit, no? Went straight over her head. I suspect she didn’t know what “selling out” means.
She told me twice that her grandparents live in Missouri. Both times, she couldn’t recall where. Granted, perhaps she’d only visited once, when she was six, but I had the feeling she’d’ve had the same trouble with St. Louis. Hell, I had the feeling she couldn’t pick out Missouri on a map. “Big deal,” you say. “So couldn’t most Americans”. Yes. But this one is in a Master’s degree program. She seemed like she could barely handle community college. A neighbor said to me, “Yes, but look at where the program is [a not-particularly-prominent state university]”. I contend: It doesn’t matter. The granting of a degree, assuming the granting institution is accredited to do so, is supposed to mean mastery (hence “Master’s”). This gal clearly has mastered nothing beyond her PIN number and the On/Off switch on a TV remote.
Hello? McFly? Is there an advisor in the picture? If so, is s/he permanently out to lunch? The fact that this gal even got this far (?) is a condemnation of the institution she’s enrolled in, if not academia in general. If these are today’s master’s candidates, how am I to trust any research results I read two years hence?
And let’s not even go to how she chose [State U.]: “Well, I was driving through there, and I just thought it was so pretty…”
The researcher: She arrived unannounced on a Saturday and figured she could finish interviewing (five members of my income-sharing community) by sundown, with no prior notice.
She couldn’t string together three words.
She took handwritten notes in a cutesy hardback Blank Book adorned with dolphins: no laptop, no recording device.
She was unable to answer my question about the use of the word pseudonym that appeared on the waiver she gave me to sign after she’d finished “interviewing” me, saying, “I think it's like ‘he’ or ‘she’”. "No," I explained. "‘He’ and ‘she’ are pronouns."
She didn’t connect the dots: After I told her that my reaction to an article I’d read in the mid-1980s about Tlalim was that it wouldn’t last, much later she asked me, “Are there any kibbutzes that didn’t last”? Honey, I just handed this one to you on a silver platter ten minutes ago. Go Google it (duh) and find out!
When she asked me if I "had any ties to the other kibbutzes" in the area, I replied, not particularly, but suggested she look them up, as each surely has a site. Her response: "Oh, yeah. Good idea".
She completely missed key thoughts. She asked, “What about adaptability? You guys seem adaptable”. I replied, “What one person thinks of as adapting, another might call selling out”. If not a gem, a tidbit, no? Went straight over her head. I suspect she didn’t know what “selling out” means.
She told me twice that her grandparents live in Missouri. Both times, she couldn’t recall where. Granted, perhaps she’d only visited once, when she was six, but I had the feeling she’d’ve had the same trouble with St. Louis. Hell, I had the feeling she couldn’t pick out Missouri on a map. “Big deal,” you say. “So couldn’t most Americans”. Yes. But this one is in a Master’s degree program. She seemed like she could barely handle community college. A neighbor said to me, “Yes, but look at where the program is [a not-particularly-prominent state university]”. I contend: It doesn’t matter. The granting of a degree, assuming the granting institution is accredited to do so, is supposed to mean mastery (hence “Master’s”). This gal clearly has mastered nothing beyond her PIN number and the On/Off switch on a TV remote.
Hello? McFly? Is there an advisor in the picture? If so, is s/he permanently out to lunch? The fact that this gal even got this far (?) is a condemnation of the institution she’s enrolled in, if not academia in general. If these are today’s master’s candidates, how am I to trust any research results I read two years hence?
And let’s not even go to how she chose [State U.]: “Well, I was driving through there, and I just thought it was so pretty…”
Friday, July 17, 2009
The real "demographic threat" ה"איום הדמוגרפי" האמיתי
In response to Dror Yehezkel’s piece on demanding that the Arab states recognize us as a Jewish state עברית, talkbacker Eric responded: "If indeed Israel IS a Jewish state, then why is it importing Russian atheists to populate the West Bank, based strictly on their lineage?"; while talkbacker Mark Lincoln of Houston, TX, adds: "Paranoia is the national pastime: A sound practice before the decisive Yom Kippur War; a national curse since. The curious thing is that as the real threat has vanished, the hysteria about `the threat` has increased. Whereas the major security threats to Israel were external for its first quarter-century, the major security threats for the last 30 years have been of Israeli device."
Apropos paranoia, the very words “demograhic threat” make me cringe. How can anyone in this day and age even utter that phrase and take themselves seriously? To view an entire group of human beings not as such, but as a phenomenon? On the other hand, how can I then justify my unapologetic loathing for the ultra-Orthodox? I suppose the difference lies in the fact that I see the ultra-Orthodox as lording it over us non-Orthodox. How else can we explain what can only properly be described as their mass tantrums עברית, i.e., dumpster-burning whenever they don’t get their own way?
Let’s even suppose for the sake of argument that in some warped world, rioting as a protest to a denial of one’s rights (a free parking garage open on the Sabbath, say) has its place. But rioting in response to a fellow citizen’s undergoing the accepted consequences of abusing her child? Certainly never heard of such a thing in the Pali community. And yet we label the latter a threat. If any group threatens our existence as a democracy, it’s the ultra-Orthodox.
Here’s my favorite sentence from the article: “[in arresting the mother], the police destroyed the delicate relations built for years between the city and Haredi community, the officials said.” So now it’s the fault of the police that our “delicate relations” with the ultra-Orthodox are destroyed? Everything was fine until the evil Jewish Gestapo had the gall to intervene in our “internal” affairs?
And let’s talk about these delicate relations. When I hear that phrase, what I read is: the non-Orthodox tiptoeing on eggshells for 60+ years in a grossly misguided attempt not to offend the ultra-Orthodox and set off rioting. If a woman described her relationship with her husband to me this way, I wouldn’t have to be a therapist to see that she’s in an abusive relationship. And with an abuser, there’s no “talking it out” or “negotiating” or “processing” or “if I’m ‘good’, he’ll stop”.
If we wouldn’t counsel a woman in an abusive relationship to placate her abuser, then why, oh why, do we continue trying to placate the ultra-Orthodox, whose behavior is nothing more or less than bullying? With a bully, if you can’t exit the situation, you set boundaries, i.e., “I refuse to be treated this way”. Two-year-olds who learn that tantrums will get them what they demand grow up to be bullies and abusers. If it wasn’t transparently, abundantly, crystal-clear before this, it should be now: If any minority community needs to be “put in its place”, it’s the ultra-Orthodox.
Apropos paranoia, the very words “demograhic threat” make me cringe. How can anyone in this day and age even utter that phrase and take themselves seriously? To view an entire group of human beings not as such, but as a phenomenon? On the other hand, how can I then justify my unapologetic loathing for the ultra-Orthodox? I suppose the difference lies in the fact that I see the ultra-Orthodox as lording it over us non-Orthodox. How else can we explain what can only properly be described as their mass tantrums עברית, i.e., dumpster-burning whenever they don’t get their own way?
Let’s even suppose for the sake of argument that in some warped world, rioting as a protest to a denial of one’s rights (a free parking garage open on the Sabbath, say) has its place. But rioting in response to a fellow citizen’s undergoing the accepted consequences of abusing her child? Certainly never heard of such a thing in the Pali community. And yet we label the latter a threat. If any group threatens our existence as a democracy, it’s the ultra-Orthodox.
Here’s my favorite sentence from the article: “[in arresting the mother], the police destroyed the delicate relations built for years between the city and Haredi community, the officials said.” So now it’s the fault of the police that our “delicate relations” with the ultra-Orthodox are destroyed? Everything was fine until the evil Jewish Gestapo had the gall to intervene in our “internal” affairs?
And let’s talk about these delicate relations. When I hear that phrase, what I read is: the non-Orthodox tiptoeing on eggshells for 60+ years in a grossly misguided attempt not to offend the ultra-Orthodox and set off rioting. If a woman described her relationship with her husband to me this way, I wouldn’t have to be a therapist to see that she’s in an abusive relationship. And with an abuser, there’s no “talking it out” or “negotiating” or “processing” or “if I’m ‘good’, he’ll stop”.
If we wouldn’t counsel a woman in an abusive relationship to placate her abuser, then why, oh why, do we continue trying to placate the ultra-Orthodox, whose behavior is nothing more or less than bullying? With a bully, if you can’t exit the situation, you set boundaries, i.e., “I refuse to be treated this way”. Two-year-olds who learn that tantrums will get them what they demand grow up to be bullies and abusers. If it wasn’t transparently, abundantly, crystal-clear before this, it should be now: If any minority community needs to be “put in its place”, it’s the ultra-Orthodox.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Too busy to run our own occupation עסוקים מכדי לנהל את הכיבוש
I thought surely I’d heard everything, that the situation couldn’t get any more Chelm-like, and now I find out that the IDF, finding that it’s too busy to staff its own checkpoints ― the manifestation of the occupation ― is farming this uh, lively task out to private security firms עברית. I can picture the Chiefs of Staff meeting where they came up with this one:
Chief of Staff: Men, the Tul Karm checkpoint is a problem. There just aren’t enough kids in the 18-20 demographic to man it. Something’s gotta give.
Colonel in charge of manpower: Gabi, what’s the problem? Just crack open the Yellow Pages and give Soldier of Fortune a call. Or Jane’s Defense Weekly. I know I have their number somewhere in my Rolodex here…
Chief of Staff: Nah, let’s go blue and white. Hand out some defense contracts to the local boys. Issue an RFB and I want at least three quotes on my desk by 07:00 hours tomorrow.
Colonel in charge of manpower: Right, Chief. Right away.
I mean, could it get any more ludicrous? We don’t have time to run our own occupation? Oh, excuse me, I meant “liberation”. Let’s see if we can explain things to our alien journalist from another galaxy:
Alien: I’m here with Yam Erez in the West Bank, and I’ve got to say to the folks back home, the way they run this show is downright confusing. Now, Ms. Erez, would you mind explaining to me again why you Israelis are in charge here, yet we can’t visit Ramallah?
Me: Well you see, Israelis aren’t allowed there.
Alien: You’re in charge of this territory, yet you’re not allowed there.
Me: That’s right. It’s in Area C, which is Palestinian-controlled. I mean, it’s ours, ‘cause God promised it to us, and She’s overall in charge, but it’s under Palestinian control. I mean…oh never mind.
Alien: So who’s that fellow over there? The one wearing the Muslim clerical-style head covering and the 5.5 kids? Is he a Palestinian?
Me: Oh, you mean him? He’s a settler.
Alien: A settler. So he’s…
Me: Israeli.
Alien: He’s Israeli. So how come he’s allowed to be here, yet you’re not?
Me: He’s Jewish.
Alien: But aren’t you Jewish?
Me: Yes, I am, but I don’t live here.
Alien: So let me get this straight: You’re Israeli, so you’re not allowed to be here, but he’s Israeli, and he’s allowed to live here. But you’re both in charge. Yet not really in charge, ‘cause the Palestinians are sort of in charge.
Me: Well, I can visit. For instance, were he to invite me, I could visit that settler.
Alien: Uh-huh. And suppose that nice actor of yours, that Muhammad Bakri fellow, wants to visit the settler. Would that be OK?
Me: Well, actually, no, it wouldn’t.
Alien: But I don’t get it. Mr. Bakri’s Israeli, isn’t he? So that means he's an occupier. What seems to be the problem?
Me: Yes -- I mean, no, that is, yes, he's Israeli, but he’s an Arab.
Alien [looking flushed]: It must be the heat. Do you suppose the settler would give us some water? I understand it’s a scarce resource in the occupied -- excuse me, I meant liberated -- territories...
What next? Oh, I have an idea: How about importing Thais or Filipinos to man the checkpoints? Isn't that what we Westerners do with our unseemly tasks? Farm them out to foreigners? Oh, that's right, [slaps forehead] you need permission from…what ministry was it again? The Welfare, or the Agriculture Ministry? I can’t seem to keep all the regulations for the various wood-hewing, water-bearing nationalities straight. [snaps fingers] Hey, I’ve got it! How about employing the Sudanese refugees to do it? They need work; we need staff―it’s a match!
Chief of Staff: Men, the Tul Karm checkpoint is a problem. There just aren’t enough kids in the 18-20 demographic to man it. Something’s gotta give.
Colonel in charge of manpower: Gabi, what’s the problem? Just crack open the Yellow Pages and give Soldier of Fortune a call. Or Jane’s Defense Weekly. I know I have their number somewhere in my Rolodex here…
Chief of Staff: Nah, let’s go blue and white. Hand out some defense contracts to the local boys. Issue an RFB and I want at least three quotes on my desk by 07:00 hours tomorrow.
Colonel in charge of manpower: Right, Chief. Right away.
I mean, could it get any more ludicrous? We don’t have time to run our own occupation? Oh, excuse me, I meant “liberation”. Let’s see if we can explain things to our alien journalist from another galaxy:
Alien: I’m here with Yam Erez in the West Bank, and I’ve got to say to the folks back home, the way they run this show is downright confusing. Now, Ms. Erez, would you mind explaining to me again why you Israelis are in charge here, yet we can’t visit Ramallah?
Me: Well you see, Israelis aren’t allowed there.
Alien: You’re in charge of this territory, yet you’re not allowed there.
Me: That’s right. It’s in Area C, which is Palestinian-controlled. I mean, it’s ours, ‘cause God promised it to us, and She’s overall in charge, but it’s under Palestinian control. I mean…oh never mind.
Alien: So who’s that fellow over there? The one wearing the Muslim clerical-style head covering and the 5.5 kids? Is he a Palestinian?
Me: Oh, you mean him? He’s a settler.
Alien: A settler. So he’s…
Me: Israeli.
Alien: He’s Israeli. So how come he’s allowed to be here, yet you’re not?
Me: He’s Jewish.
Alien: But aren’t you Jewish?
Me: Yes, I am, but I don’t live here.
Alien: So let me get this straight: You’re Israeli, so you’re not allowed to be here, but he’s Israeli, and he’s allowed to live here. But you’re both in charge. Yet not really in charge, ‘cause the Palestinians are sort of in charge.
Me: Well, I can visit. For instance, were he to invite me, I could visit that settler.
Alien: Uh-huh. And suppose that nice actor of yours, that Muhammad Bakri fellow, wants to visit the settler. Would that be OK?
Me: Well, actually, no, it wouldn’t.
Alien: But I don’t get it. Mr. Bakri’s Israeli, isn’t he? So that means he's an occupier. What seems to be the problem?
Me: Yes -- I mean, no, that is, yes, he's Israeli, but he’s an Arab.
Alien [looking flushed]: It must be the heat. Do you suppose the settler would give us some water? I understand it’s a scarce resource in the occupied -- excuse me, I meant liberated -- territories...
What next? Oh, I have an idea: How about importing Thais or Filipinos to man the checkpoints? Isn't that what we Westerners do with our unseemly tasks? Farm them out to foreigners? Oh, that's right, [slaps forehead] you need permission from…what ministry was it again? The Welfare, or the Agriculture Ministry? I can’t seem to keep all the regulations for the various wood-hewing, water-bearing nationalities straight. [snaps fingers] Hey, I’ve got it! How about employing the Sudanese refugees to do it? They need work; we need staff―it’s a match!
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