The First Day of School

School begins throughout Israel on September 1. We have been anticipating the first day of school since we arrived – and even earlier, back in the U.S. There was, it seemed, general agreement in the family: we are excited and nervous. It will be hard and strange at first when everyone speaks Hebrew. It will get easier. It will be nice to meet other kids. It will, eventually, be FUN. All you have to do, we told the kids, is learn Hebrew and have fun.

Bet Sefer Avigur school t-shirt insignia

The night before school went surprisingly well. Just a few days ago, Jeremy was still reading past midnight and sleeping until noon. Even he grasped the importance of a night's sleep though (or maybe he just cooperated because he happened to finish his book around 9:20pm). Kids were both asleep by 9:30. I (Eden) felt totally awake, on the other hand. For months I had been telling everyone, “I did this when I was Jeremy's age. I lived in Holland and my parents just dumped me off at a Dutch-speaking school. It was fine! I learned fast!” Now I wasn't so sure. I focused on the things I could control – Jeremy's backpack ready? His (officially required) school shirt clean? Talia's Batman shirt and shorts (not officially required) clean?

The plan was to wake them at 6:45 on Wednesday morning. At 6:30, Talia jumped out of bed, “It's the first day of school! YAY!” Jeremy wasn't so thrilled. He yawned and stalled, but he got up. Neither ate much. At 7:30 we said “time to go” and Talia was out the door and calling the elevator in 2 seconds flat. Alas, that's when Jeremy said “I don't want to go to school. I'm not going.” Marc and I ran through our usual list of reassurances, “You have to go. We know it's a challenge. You are doing great! We are proud of you. We know it's hard at first. We really think it will be fun soon.” ETC. He moved toward the door. Slowly.

Talia's school is two very short blocks from our apartment. That first day, though, it felt like a very long walk. My mind was racing. I was filled with dread and guilt. How could I be so cruel as to throw my kids into this fray without preparing them more? Why didn't I find a Hebrew tutor for these past few weeks? What if the kids are terribly discouraged, frustrated and miserable?

First Stop: Gan Khova (Kindergarten) #54 aka Gan Efreni. The doors open at 7:30 but kids can arrive anytime until 8:00. On the first day, we were the first to arrive! We walked Talia through the courtyard and into the small building. She gave us a hug and ran off. No problem! (Another child arrived right after us and he was sobbing and clinging to his mother. I was reminded that transitions are often difficult even in your own language and culture. I realized how lucky we are that Talia LOVES to play and be with children, whether they can converse or not.)

Talia starts her day with puzzles

Jeremy and Marc and I continued up Tel Hai street towards Jeremy's school. Just a five minute walk. We saw lots of other kids streaming towards the same school, recognizable by their school shirts. Some were walking with their parents, some on their own with other kids. A new anxiety hit me. Why were all those boys wearing WHITE shirts? I was told that white was for gym and there would not be gym on the first day. Jeremy had chosen his red school shirt. Would he stick out like the sore thumb? (I was filled with dread AND I kicked myself for taking the kids to see Karate Kid last week – the movie about the American boy who moves to China and is attacked by the bullies in school. One of his foreigner missteps is to wear the uniform on the wrong day. I was thinking about this...and hoping Jeremy did not make the same analogy!) Finally, we saw a boy in a blue shirt..and then one in a red shirt. Phew. Fashion crisis averted.

Second Stop: Bet Sefer AVIGUR. What a welcome! (I don't think Jeremy appreciated it; he was too absorbed in his anxiety, I suspect.) There were colorful streamers and a trio playing music as the head of school welcomed all the children at the gate. It seemed that students and parents and little siblings were converging from all directions. The school was a hub of joyful activity. Parents were taking photos and I even saw some wiping away tears. (Again, I was reminded that sending a child off to a new school is an emotional event anywhere.) Jeremy was subdued. We said hello to the head of school, Orli, and then asked Jeremy if he wanted us to stay with him on the yard or leave. He told us to go and he walked off...slowly and quietly but without tears or argument. You won't be surprised to hear that we retreated a block and then spied on him! He stayed on the margins of the yard, looking down at his feet. Sad? Lonely? Probably a bit. But, I reminded myself, in Kindergarten, his wonderful teacher noted that he spent a lot of time alone at recess but did not seem unhappy or lacking for friends. Jeremy is a dreamer and a thinker, and there is a lot to think about right now.

At 8am, the tide flowed into Bet Sefer Avigur and Jeremy went with it. His red shirt disappeared into a sea of color (not just white!) and we finally left.

WAITING. The kids only go to school until 1:30, a short day compared to their schools back home. But, oh, it felt like a very long day as we waited until it was time to pick them up – or perhaps to receive a call from the school saying “Jeremy/Talia is a total basket case. Come get him/her immediately. What were you thinking?!” I spent part of the time walking around the neighborhood and found a gift for each child – a used novel, in English, for Jeremy and a dot-to-dot for Talia to practice her numbers. At home, I painstakingly worked on a bilingual card for each of them – writing “great job!” and “we love you” in English and very messy Hebrew. I helped our landlord install a new lamp. I cleaned and studied Hebrew. Still, it was only noon. The kids must be exhausted, I thought. At 1:00, Marc asked if it was time to go and I reminded him that the schools were only 5 minutes away. Then, out of nowhere, our doorbell rang. It was Jeremy!! With a big smile! They got out early and so, like the independent Israeli kids, he walked home. So cool! We asked how his day was and he said one word: “Good.” I had one thought: Hallelujah!

A half hour later, I picked up Talia at Gan. They don't get out early and they don't let the kids leave on their own (of course not, they are all 4-6 years old). On the contrary, they lock the gate. I arrived to find parents waiting on the sidewalk until exactly 1:30, when the assistant teacher unlocked the padlock (and I thought, I hope that key is really handy if there is a fire) and let us in to claim our little ones – each of whom emerged wearing a hand-made crown. Talia was in great spirits, proudly showing me “Talia” written in Hebrew on her crown and gleefully reporting that they had chocolate sandwiches for snack.

We did it!  Having a snack at home after school.

A successful first day! What a relief! We are so proud of the kids. We also know that tomorrow is another day and jitters can (re)emerge, the novelty can wear off, the boredom, loneliness and frustration are still looming. For now, though, we celebrate. The kids and I had a huge ice cream sundae!