the chutzpa

It was a typical day at the kindergarden; kids screaming after we told them to be quiet for the third time, a mess in the classroom. After Sam came up to me to ask me where the paper towels were I made a mental note to ask Yakov for more. Two minutes later, Yakov walks in. I tell him in Hebrew that we need paper towels. Since I don't know how to say paper towel in Hebrew I pointed to the paper towel holder. He said we only get one of those and i said "No, not that." and made the motion of rolling up paper towel. Then he understood. He told me he will get it now. After 45 minutes had passed and no sign of paper towels, I decided to look for him. I searched in the hallways; upstairs and downstairs. No Yakov. I then checked the office. There he was, sitting with a secretary. I ask him where the paper towels are, we need them! He pulls out his keychain with ten keys, and holds it out, leaving them all hanging, except for the one that belongs to the closet. Only understanding every other word, he told me "Go get them, they are in the closet..." I tell him "- No, i can't do it. I'm with the kids now," and I return to my class. It's not my job to do these kind of things, I wanted to tell him. Thirty minutes later he comes in with the set of six large paper towel rolls. Good, I don't have to deal with him for another few weeks.

Shul emotions

During the passed few weeks, I've been telling my friends that I want to join them at shul. I haven't had the chance to go until yesterday. I went to services for the first time since I moved here eight months ago. I wore a floor-length skirt with a tank top, a button up sweater and sandals. I exaggerated the length of the skirt because I didn't know how religious the synagogue was and didn't want to offend anyone. As I entered in the woman's section with my olim friends, I felt a sense of warmth, of belonging. Growing up in the States, I had been to services plenty of times, but this was different. Here there were Israeli's and immigrants alike who wanted to be there; not there for the obligation. When I sat down, I observed two kinds of woman; the more religious woman who had their shoulders, chest and knees covered with smalls scarves hiding their hair and the more conservative ones in knee-length skirts with their hair down.
As the crowd followed the Rabbi's lead, my friend whispered to me what will happen next, "Now we are going to stand up, turn around and bow to the entrance to welcome the Sabbath." When the Rabbi hit his hand on the podium a bit harder to emphasize the beat, the crowd simultaneously sang a bit louder. I thought to myself that I had never heard such beautiful, joyous praying. It was similar to that of a professional choir; such liveliness, such emotion.
Hebrew is such a happy, musical language. This made me love Hebrew even more than I already do. I will definitely go back soon.

Shabbat Shalom everyone!!