When Language Ego Ruins You

This past Shabbat, there was a community experience here in Neve Daniel. You could sign up to either be a host or a guest, you were paired up with perfect strangers, and the idea was that you'd meet new people and spread yourself out a bit on the yishuv.

I've experienced these kinds of things before, and I've always loved them. Back in Teaneck they called it Mystery Shabbat, and you didn't know where you were going for the meal until you showed up at synagogue and someone handed you a card with an address on it. It was fun, I met some awesome new people, and I got to break out of my insulated introverted bubble.

Here, on the other hand, my attempt to burst out of that bubble failed miserably and resulted in a demoralizing and alienating experience.

It's no one's fault but my own, I'm sure.

The hosts were great -- the hostess even went out of her way to make a gluten-free cake for dessert. When we arrived they spoke in English, the comfort zone for both Mr. T and I, but when the other guests showed up, there was no turning back, Hebrew was the name of the game at the meal.

Mr. T has been in Israel off and on for nine years and works as an electrician on job sites where Hebrew is the common denominator among Russians, Arabs, and other workers. As a result, he doesn't have much of a language ego -- he just speaks, he doesn't care if he gets things wrong or his accent isn't right, he knows he's getting the message across and that's fine for him.

I, on the other hand, have a huge language ego. My first Hebrew class was my senior year of undergrad in 2006 in Nebraska, and it was biblical Hebrew, one semester. I refined my already keen knowledge of the aleph-bet (thanks to attendance at a Reform synagogue where singing allowed me to pick up on the Hebrew sounds and words) and picked up a few basic words that, thankfully, existed in biblical and also modern Hebrew. But it was several more years before I took a legit Hebrew course in graduate school and then carried on to the intensive Hebrew-language learning program at Middlebury College in 2009.

June-August 2009. That was my first taste of actual Hebrew. Of being able to speak a full sentence with some semblance of confidence. That's less than four years of modern Hebrew under my belt.

I know plenty of people who got a bit of Hebrew in primary school or Sunday school, even a few people who had cousins in Israel, who are able to get more out than me. My problem is I know it, but because of my background in copy editing and how well-spoken I am in English, my language ego halts me.

I think of what I need to say, I evaluate the sentence structure, I consider the pronouns, I conjugate the verb, I make sure I have the right tense. And by the time I've finally reassured myself that I know what to say, the moment has passed.

So I sat there throughout the meal just listening. I picked up bits and pieces of the conversation. The hosts translated words here and there into English, but the other couple seemed to act as if I wasn't even there. When I did want to say something, I tried in Hebrew, and inevitably switched to quick English, getting whatever I needed to say out of the way as quickly as possible.

It was embarrassing.

And yet, I can walk into a restaurant, ask for a menu, ask questions about the menu, place an order, make smalltalk with the waitress, ask for my bill and pay with the greatest of ease. I can see the Efrat Burgers Bar girl working in Jerusalem and -- without thinking -- instantly blurt out in Hebrew, "Hey! What are you doing here, you don't work here!" and have a brief conversation about how she needed a change of scenery.

I know that someday, when I have children, they'll hear the sounds of Hebrew outside and at school, and they'll teach me something I don't know. Inside the house they'll get a polite mixture of American and English, thanks to their parents whose languages are similar but so different. My kids will be fluently bilingual.

But there's something about being placed in a situation with people you would call my neighbors in a community that isn't so big where Hebrew is what will be spoken where I just cave, I turn inward, and I look like an idiot.

I've had a Jewish neshama my entire life, but with my awakening didn't come automatic or even primitive Hebrew knowledge. With four years of Modern Hebrew floating around my brain, it's done nothing but insulate me. And Israel makes it far too easy to default to English.

Something's got to change.

Zig Zaggin' Rhetoric

I'm currently in a Teaching a Second Language: Theory and Practice course, and although I was really apprehensive about it at the beginning, I'm slowly growing to enjoy it. The textbook is kind of a drag, but every now and again there's something particularly interesting or thought-provoking. For the most part, what is most fascinating about this class is the off-topic, tangential interaction of the students on our experiences in learning, teaching, or encountering second languages. Probably three-quarters of the class is from China, Korea, Japan, or Taiwan, which has really opened my eyes to a culture group I've never really spent much time with before. Overall, all of our experiences are truly unique and interesting, and I like to bring in the Jewish and Israeli cultural experience.

Something we read recently gave me pause, and we discussed it, and I'm still not sure I get it. I thought perhaps you -- my highly intelligent and educated readers -- might have better insight on this. There's this guy, Robert Kaplan, who wrote a paper on contrastive rhetoric in 1966 suggesting that different languages (and their cultures) have different patterns of written discourse. Okay, easy enough, makes sense. But then he went and created this diagram, which is really beyond me. Sort of.

So, English makes sense. English speakers, and Americans especially, like to be direct, to get to the point, and they expect others to get to the point. They don't dance around the answer or subject or topic. I didn't really get the Oriental image until it was explained to me that individuals from the Asiatic countries don't like to say "yes" or "no," because, depending on who you're talking to, your opinion isn't really necessary to share. So you sort of loop around a "yes" or "no" by explaining all of the possible answers and reasoning and never really stating your opinion, except in a roundabout way.

But Semitic, Russian, and Romance really leave me confused.  Any Russian or Romance language speakers think they can explain the visual representation of a written or spoken discussion? And Hebrew speakers? Care to take on the Zig Zag?

The dashes represent something, too. I'm perplexed.

Look Ma! I Done it!

It only took me about 3.5 days to master the Hebrew script. Seriously? I bought a book with the express purpose of mastering Hebrew Script because I was fearful of this class, and I get here, and with one day's worth of homework assignments under my belt and two days (that's actually three) classes, I have for you, Aleph-Bet a la Chavi:

Let's call it Chavi script. And if you want to see what the REAL Hebrew Script looks like, you can click here and check out the fancy, handy dandy chart that every Hebrew professor on the planet uses. Of course, I have to wait and see what the professor thinks of my take on the letters, since, as with all handwriting, things come out different. Maybe I should take on Rashi Script next? HA! But I just wanted to share my mastering what I was so scared of.

The long weekend approaches, and right now the only plans I have tentatively made are for a fellow I've met on JDate and I to perhaps get some nosh and explore Letterboxing on Monday afternoon. Other than that, I intend on doing a lot of reading in Qohelet, some exploration in Exodus for Bible class, a bit of dabbling in the Hebrew vocabulary, and reading up on something to prepare some quirky interview questions for PopJudaica's blog, AND ... yes, lots of blogging here. In the works are the following:

• Blog on Rabbi Marc D. Angel's "The Search Committee" ... long overdue, and needing to be written!
• Blog (perhaps a video blog?) on how I managed to organize myself and all there is to know about Judaism during my conversion process (a nod to Rachel at Shavua Tov! for inquiring and inspiring!). 

And of course, some sleep (though I seem to get plenty) and I might actually manage to trek to the gym and see what they have to offer! Oh, and I suppose I should start figuring out my late September, early October plans, buying plane tickets back to Nebraska for my BFF Annie's wedding and figuring out High Holiday plans.

Why must they creep up so!?

(By the way, don't tell anyone, but now I'm thinking ... wow ... becoming a Professor of Hebrew? That would be the most awesome job ever. The question is ... am I too far behind in getting started to even consider such a thing?)

A quick Yiddish survey!

Boker tov! I thought I'd pass along this little blurb that I found over on the On Chanting blog, it's a survey about Yiddish, which was recently discussed by Shimshonit over on Jewsbychoice.org. It doesn't take too much of your time, so why not participate, eh?

Concerning the spread of Yiddish among English speakers in North America

You are invited to participate in an interesting and entertaining survey about language. Essentially, we're asking about the spread of Yiddish (and some Hebrew) among English speakers in North America. We're turning to both Jews and non-Jews to answer questions like these: Who uses Yiddish words like "shmooze" and "daven" and phrases like "Money, shmoney"? Why do some people say "temple" while others say "shul"? Who prefers biblical names for their babies? Your responses will help us answer these and other questions, and you might learn something about yourself in the process. Please set aside 15-20 minutes, and click on this link to participate.

http://www.surveymonkey.com/s.aspx?sm=9eQwWyblG_2b8ixLqbt6QFhg_3d_3d

Please forward this e-mail to your friends and family. We are hoping to get thousands of responses from people of all religions, ages, and regions of the United States and Canada. If you have any questions, feel free to e-mail Prof. Sarah Bunin Benor, sbenor@huc.edu, or Prof. Steven M. Cohen, Steve34nyc@aol.com.

And for those curious, the survey is being run by Hebrew Union College (the Reform movement's seminary).

Nu, nu, nu!

Being the grammarian and editrix that I am, I have to make a blog post about this. I choose my words carefully, knowing that people know that I am, in fact, an editor by trade. I'm very careful to make sure my words are not misused in the grammatical sense, and I do what I can. So on my post about the Conversion Debacle, I got a comment from someone who chose to put up ye olde "Anonymous" front, and I went ahead and posted the comment despite my policy of "your words aren't worth sharing if you can't stand behind your thoughts." In this case, it's pretty benign and more exciting for me because I get to defend my use of, well, the word "nu" (נו). In the blog post, I write:

So this is all I have to say -- right now anyway -- on this whole conversion debacle in Israel and Europe and everywhere else that converts are feeling the burn. I feel for them, we're kindred spirits wandering back to the mount together, catching up with the rest of the tribe camped there. I understand the frustration and the hurt, and I understand the want for it all to just go away and for the slippery slope to flatten out and become coarse as sand paper. But for now, we'll forge forth, nu?

The anonymous commenter in turn said, "A first step to advanced yiddishkeit would be the correct use of the term 'nu.' Best of luck with the conversion."

Firstly, I've already converted, albeit through the Reform movement. Not sure if commenter got that, but just in case, there's a clarification. Secondly, let's see if I misused the word "nu." In this instance, I was using it as sort of an "eh?" or "what can you do?"

The first thing I did was consider how I typically use it. I tend to use it in place of a thought like "don't you think?" not to mention frequently using it in place of "right?" or "eh?" or "so?" So to make sure I haven't been living a lie (which I was for the longest time with the word svelte), I did up the Google with: nu define yiddish.

I came up with a website of Common Hebrew and Yiddish Phrases: "This is an exclamation used in the same sense as 'well' 'eh' and 'hey.' " The site then proceeds to list off a ton of examples of usages. You can click the link if you really want to read them all (some are quite amusing). But, of course, being a copy editor, I know to not trust a lick of what I read on the internet and go to a true source -- Leo Rosten's "The New Joys of Yiddish."

According to Rosten, nu is "From Russian: nu, 'well,' 'well now,' etc." On the next page, he lists a massive 19 examples of how the word can be used -- all very different, but all (in my mind) accurate. He notes the different spellings, but all are pronounced "noooo" to rhyme with "cooo." This fellow, after all, is sort of the source for Yiddish for the non-Yiddish speaker. Among his examples:

2. "I saw you come out of her apartment." "Noo-oo?" (So-o?)
6. "I need the money. ... Nu?" (How about it?)
14. "They doubled the rent! Nu?" (What can one do?)

Being one who trusts the written word, not to mention Leo Rosten, I think I didn't misuse the word. (I'm leaning on Number 14/Number 2 here.) It's one of those words that has about a million variations. Perhaps, a variation for every Jew that numbers the planet.

Anyhow, that's my kvetch/spiel for the day, so please feel free to correct me if I'm completely off base or if Leo Rosten is a completely and utterly unreliable source for the Yiddish.

Until Sunday, Shabbat Shalom friends and foes!

BTW: For some humorous Yiddish puns, check out those on this website. I think my favorite is the "trayffic accident" ... ha!