The Hebrew Break

            I was really discouraged during my most recent online Hebrew class; most of my fellow students were more advanced than me, and much more confident, and I struggled to keep up with the discussions and the homework and even getting to class by the end of the semester. When my teacher suggested that I sign up for a fluency class next, instead of continuing at my current level, I agreed in the hopes that a class focused on speaking (instead of on learning new vocabulary) might be the right next step for me. But it was a relief when I found out that I’d have to wait two months for the next fluency class to start. I’ve also found lots of excuses to skip weekly Hebrew practices, and I haven’t really looked over my notes from the last class, which, honestly, might as well have been in Greek.

            I keep wishing that language acquisition – and all learning, really – could be more straight forward for me: read A, write B, take tests C, D, and E, and then you know it. But even back in school, when that was the dominant learning model, it didn’t actually work for me. I could get straight A’s in class, or spend months writing a paper on the symbolism of birds in hieroglyphics, and I would still forget most of the material by the next semester. I was surprised by how little math I actually remembered from high school when I took the Graduate Record Exam (GRE) ten years later. I had to re-learn all of the math from scratch, and quickly forgot it all again when the test was over. Tests always seemed arbitrary to me, like I was being judged on my ability to guess what this or that particular teacher wanted from me, rather than being tested on my actual mastery of the material.

Over time, I’ve tried to approach learning in a more comprehensive way, coming at it from as any different directions as possible in order to build solid connections in my brain that might last longer than a moment, but I’m still struggling. I know I’ve learned a lot of Hebrew over the past few years, but I feel like crap for not being confident enough to speak much when I was in Israel, and I feel stupid for needing more classes. I’ve never been able to figure out the best way for my particular brain to learn, so most of the time I feel like I’m making do with methods that are built for a brain that isn’t mine; like trying to use lefty scissors as a right-hander, or trying to paint with a toothbrush. I wish I knew for sure what would help me get to the next level, in Hebrew and in everything else, but all I can do is guess at the right path forward and take a leap.

So tomorrow, I’m going to my first fluency class. It will probably take me a while to warm back up after my break, and I’m sure I’ll be anxious and self-conscious all over again, staring at my face on screen and wondering who that alien might be, but hopefully something in the new format will help me find the words when I need them, or at least calm my anxiety when I can’t think of anything to say. Fingers and neurons crossed.

If you haven’t had a chance yet, please check out my novel, Yeshiva Girl, on Amazon. And if you feel called to write a review of the book, on Amazon, or anywhere else, I’d be honored.

            Yeshiva Girl is about a Jewish teenager on Long Island, named Isabel, though her father calls her Jezebel. Her father has been accused of inappropriate sexual behavior with one of his students, which he denies, but Izzy implicitly believes it’s true. As a result of his problems, her father sends her to a co-ed Orthodox yeshiva for tenth grade, out of the blue, and Izzy and her mother can’t figure out how to prevent it. At Yeshiva, though, Izzy finds that religious people are much more complicated than she had expected. Some, like her father, may use religion as a place to hide, but others search for and find comfort, and community, and even enlightenment. The question is, what will Izzy find?