Teachers Change Lives: Mr. Eaves, Respect, and Curiosity

Being back in Nebraska, I'm feeling pretty nostalgic about just about everything. The food, the places, the experiences. I've even seen in passing a few people I went to college with, which is strange for me, having been away for so long. Or maybe it wasn't even that I've been away for so long but rather that I've been so far away for a few years that it seems like a completely different world that I once belonged to.

In honor of feeling nostalgic, now seems like the right time to tell you about a teacher who inspired me once upon a time.

Despite me loathing the subject he fancied to the extreme, my fifth grade teacher Mr. Eaves took my curiosity to a new and interesting level. The last year I spent at Stapleton Elementary in Joplin, Missouri, was filled with experiments, trips, explorations into the organic world, and, most importantly, the gift of trust and respect from an adult.

In elementary school I was part of a group of seven girls -- the Magnificent Seven they called us. We ran around the school like we ran the place, and the teachers knew that we were super tight knit. As we all ended up in the same fifth grade classroom, Mr. Eaves took advantage of our clique.

Between experiments with wave bottles (soda bottle + oil + colored liquid), tornado machines (two bottles taped together with water, spin it and tornado), and building rockets that we shot off on a non-school day at a field near the local university, Mr. Eaves put together an aviary in the back of the classroom and filled it with zebra finches. Our task, as the Magnificent Seven, was to spend our fifth grade year taking care of the birds.

We fed them, cleaned the cage, made sure their nests were cozy and clean, and at the end of that fifth grade year, Mr. Eaves gave us each a gift: We got to take some of the birds home with us. Me, being sentimental at that age and having the utmost respect for the teacher who made soda bottles interesting, named one of the birds Teaves.

Our final project was to take the empty, barren space between the two legs of our school building and plan a large garden. We created water features, decided which plants would grow best in the shade and which needed complete sunlight. We built in little walking paths and bridges. We created an entire ecosystem based on our teacher's guidance and our own creativity. It wasn't until a year later -- when we were all in middle school -- that the area was transformed. Mr. Eaves invited us all back for the unveiling, and the picture of most of the Magnificent Seven is one of my most precious.

The spark of curiosity that he inspired in me -- to get down and dirty to understand the mysteries and fun in the universe -- sticks with me even today. We loved Mr. Eaves for trusting us enough to raise birds and build rockets. He gave us the kind of respect that a fifth grader needs before launching into Middle School, which was such a gift for me at that time.

And if you know the kind of person I am, you won't be surprised to find out that the Magnificent Seven went to the lengths of purchasing Mr. Eaves a plaque and balloon on the last day of school to show him how much we loved, respected, and appreciated him. Ridiculous, right? 

Although I fell a bit out of love with science later in life after some bad experiences with honors courses and not great teachers, I still have a fascination with hands-on activities and creating things. As someone who reflects on life through the written word in numerous capacities, I have to think on and thank Mr. Eaves for giving me the gift of trust, respect, and most of all, the gift of curiosity. 

Feeling inspired? I'd love to hear about a teacher who inspired YOU! Check out this video of Chris Emdin, a science teacher in the Bronx who (oddly enough) incorporates hip hop into his lessons to help students see science in a different way. 

Also: Consider donating to Teachers Change Lives by clicking on "Donate to a Teacher" on their website. After all, teachers are doing innovative things in the classroom and you can help them do more by donating!


I was selected for this opportunity as a member of Clever Girls Collective and the content and opinions expressed here are all my own.

She's Gonna' Be a Big Star!

Well, it's official. I mean, it was official before, but now my name and information and photo are up for the world to see: I am an NYU grad student, and here's my profile to prove it!

Man. I dreamed of this day back in 1998 when I was in high school and dreaming of someday heading to NYU for college. When the pamphlets started coming in 2000 (two years ahead of my 2002 high school graduation), I was decided, I was going to NYU. And then? Reality. Costs. Money. Financial impossibilities.

So here I am, a decade later and heading to the school of my dreams to pursue the career of my dreams. Teacher. Social media guru. Hebrew educator. Educated educator.

Anything's possible, folks. Anything.

I've Got MORE Big News!

I have big, gigantic, amazing news. Are you ready for more good stuff in 2010/5770 for Chaviva?

I got into NYU!

Yes, I have been accepted for their Dual Degree in Education/Jewish Studies and Jewish Studies/Hebrew. Color me stoked. I also am happy to report a scholarship for tuition and fees! At NYU, that's big doings. Now, there are those of you who are thinking, Why on earth are you getting ANOTHER MA? At that, why TWO more? Well, the answer is really long and complicated, but let's just say that although I love the program here at UConn, it's not doing what I need it to do, and I wasn't qualified on paper to compete with PhD students for the caliber program I would like to be in. I'm short on language, teaching experience, you name it. Sure, I've given papers and taught classes and stuff, but it's bigger picture things that matter. There's one main professor in my program, and while he is the most awesome professor out there, he's holding the program on his own. Thus, I'm off for more academic pursuits, in the hopes of becoming a Jewish educator of tomorrow. I'm going to light all sorts of fires, darn't.

So stay tuned. We'll be talking new jobs, moving, not moving, me commuting five million hours from Connecticut (listen: this isn't an option), etc. We'll figure something out, just stay tuned. It's going to be an interesting few months!

A Walking, Talking Stress Ball.

The semester is over and the winter doldrums have hit -- it's that time of the year where it's easy to sleep 15 hours a day and eat nothing but holiday cookies and ice cream. What is it about wintertime that turns the mind into a playplace of the absurd?

At any rate, I'm glad everything's turned in and finished, and aside from a single incident of shock-and-awe while grading, everything went pretty smoothly. I did up two papers, a Hebrew final exam, a final exam paper on anti-Christian rhetoric in Leviticus Rabbah, and ... oh, then I proctored one exam and graded another. And now? Nothing. I have some editing to do, I want to put together a couple of projects, focus on my blog(s) and rest my mind. The difficult and paradoxical thing, however, is that it's hard for me to do this. I function best when I'm stressed out -- when I have a dozen things due, a million things on my mind. The more I have going on, the quieter my head is. It's when everything slows down that it gets difficult to find motivation and calm. Maybe I should take up meditation (I've considered this before, but with the amount of trouble I have getting good sleep and quieting my noggin', I don't think I'd have much luck).

So I've got about a month to relax and rejuvenate before the next semester rolls around. I'll be taking Hebrew once again, as well as Palestine under the Greeks and Romans, followed by a Jewish-Christian relations course based in the Middle Ages. After that comes a boatload of preparations for my graduate exams. Hopefully between now and then I'll find out about my next academic step.

I've applied/am applying to two programs: a dual-master's program at NYU in Judaic Studies and Jewish Education (brand new; this is their first year) and a Hebrew language master's program at UMD down outside of Washington D.C. So this scholar will end up with either one, two, or three MAs. I think the more MAs I have, the harder it will be to market myself without over-shooting how much I'm worth.

But I'm excited. If I don't get into either program, I'll probably lose it. I could easily go and start teaching in a Hebrew High School, but I'm not done learning yet, and my ultimate goal is University-Level Professoring. So wish me luck, folks.

The Road Diverges, Where's Chavi Going?

I'm worried that I've lost hope in the future (or the present) of mankind. All it took was a small stack of exams given to me to grade, and I was scratching my head, shaking my head, opening my mouth in utter surprise. All I could think was, "This isn't rocket science, folks," as I marked down points that would make even a regular ole D student cry. I mean, these exams? They're bad. They're really bad. And as I scribbled notes into the margins -- the same idea about 20 times, that is -- I began to wonder, to really wonder, if I could handle being a professor, knowing that the words that I might speak on a daily basis would be sucked into ears, processed in some absolutely mindless filter, only to be regurgitated out on paper like this.

Ever since I returned from Middlebury, I've been thinking, reconsidering, where I'm going. My desire to teach hasn't changed, don't get me wrong, but I am trying to figure out what's practical and possible for me at this point in my academic journey. I started out thinking modern, after all, my big-time term paper in my undergrad was on Ulysses S. Grant and the Jews. I slowly moved backward, thinking about Rashi and his daughters, considering Medieval Jewry. I read books and more books and the text that discusses the rabbi who decreed that if you're yawning in shul you better cover your mouth had me delighted. And then I came here to Connecticut and I found myself drifting even further back, to the Talmud, the rabbis, and the Second Temple Period as we know it today. But as the past year showed me, I'm so far behind it might take me years to catch up. In a perfect world, I'd be reading-fluent in Aramaic, Greek, French, German, and of course Biblical Hebrew. I'd read the texts in their originals, because that's what a scholar does. I vowed after realizing that the author of Rashi's Daughters didn't do any of her own legwork that I wouldn't be like that -- I'd work from scratch forward. But the reality? It might take me years.

I keep telling myself that I have all the time in the world. Tuvia has granted me that time, knowing that I want to follow my heart and really throw myself into that which I am passionate about. He's patient and kind like that. And in reality, I could probably toil away at school for the rest of my life studying those languages and working the texts until I'm blue in the face. Even if I don't pursue academic Talmudic work or what have you, I'll still do that in the outside world -- after all, my inquiring mind doesn't let me sit still on the sidelines when it comes to my Orthodox Judaism. I seek, read, and learn.

But the reality of the situation is that I'm reconsidering my situation. Life is a series of reconsiderations, you know. And after Middlebury, and even before, I was considering a future in Hebrew language. My time in Middlebury allowed me to gain a fluency I couldn't have dreamed of. But it was just a start, and much like my hungry neshama, my hungry brain wants more. Speaking Hebrew feeds my mind, my heart, and my soul. It's like I'm speaking in the voice of generations past and future. It empowers me and it makes me happy and excited.

And for all intents and purposes, it's practical and doable. At least, I think so.

So I sent an email off to my morah (teacher) from the summer, to see what she thinks and whether she has any advice. I would continue on with a PhD, but it would be in language -- Hebrew language. I'd rehash all the grammar rules I've forgotten (from English, that is; who can tell me what a past participle is!?). I hate to say it but although I've got mad editing skills, when it comes to the vocab and the nitty gritty, even the best editors are lacking. I want to perfect my language skills so that I can take what I know to a university or day school level and INSPIRE people. Inspire them to use and love the living language of the Jewish people. And furthermore, at least with a language, there are rules and measures and styles and words that mean exactly what they mean. I don't have to explain themes or devices to students. Language is like mathematics -- 99 percent of the time, there is really one right answer.

And maybe, once I've got that under wraps, I'll turn back to my dreams of being a Talmud chacham.

Of course, I want to be a mother, too. A mother, a wife, a community member, a shul member. A friend and a confidant. There are many things I want to be, and I find that as time goes on, my desires change along with my needs. What the soul needs to be comforted changes as new people come into our lives and also when we realize we need to reassess a situation. Unfortunately for Tuvia, being Morah Chavi the Hebrew teacher might not be exceedingly lucrative, but if there's one thing my father taught me, it's to do what makes me happy.

I've learned that, in life, you can't waste your time on the things that don't excite you. If it isn't one of the first things you think about when you wake up and when you go to sleep -- positively, with absolute excitement and eagerness -- then maybe you should reconsider where you are and where you're going. Life's to short to waste your time and energy. As Qohelet tells us,

So enjoy what you have. (Note: Many read Qohelet/Ecclesiastes as a text about the futility of life. I do not read it this way. I read Qohelet as an old man, full of wisdom, relating to us how to live one's life in order to gain the most from it. To seek happiness in all things and to not toil over that which is wasteful or futile. Rather, seek happiness in all that you do, here, in this life!)