Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Bitter Sweet – 06.30.11

For nearly all of the days since I arrived in Israel, I have found myself saying to myself at the end of the day, “what a great day.” I’ve gone to the beach, met up with old friends, gone to stylish and delicious bars and restaurants – all the things a vacation should be. Today was no exception. I woke up at a friends house in Gilon (a small town in northern Israel) and after a delicious breakfast (Israeli cottage cheese is life changing!), made my way to Akko, then to Haifa, and finally to Tel Aviv. Instead of going straight to my room, I decided last-minute to go to a museum at the University of Tel Aviv campus. I really didn’t know where I was going, but I’ve learned enough Hebrew and enough about the trains and buses to figure it out. I arrived on campus, found the museum easily, bought my entry ticket, and decided to grab a cup of coffee before I went inside.


Sitting in the Aroma café (somewhat equivalent to Starbucks…only better!) overlooking campus, indulging in a warm chocolate croissant and frozen chocolaty coffee creation while reading my latest book I was first overcome with happiness, and then sorrow. Sorrow to the point that tears threatened to slip from my eyes in the middle of the cool and comforting air-conditioned restaurant.


It is always this way with me – the sorrow never leaves the happiness. This may sound strange, but today the sorrow was for my students. I am so grateful to be on this journey of a lifetime. Just two weeks ago I became a doctor, quit my job, left my apartment, stored my belongings in Texas, and left for the first leg of my trip – five months in Israel and France. I am proud of my bold decision to travel, and the planning and saving it took to pull it off. And yet today I could not help but think about my students. The ones that kept me going (with a smile) on all of those dreadfully bureaucratic days. The college students I’ve worked with over the past nine years have inspired me with their tenacity and intellect. The former inmates and foster youth, the single moms, the young and idealistic, the undocumented – so many of who may never have the opportunity to sit in a café in a country of their choosing and read a book for an hour in the cool A/C although they are exceptionally deserving. I was a bit overcome by my privilege and it’s inherent contrast, as I often am.


I know that after this year, I will go back to education and use all the skills I have learned to be a better educator and stronger, wiser, and more balanced person. Perhaps when you love what you do – when you are what you do - you carry it with you; on vacation, in cafes, and in both moments of happiness and sorrow.


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