For Immediate Release: Alhareezi Primary School English Press, Ltd. 2011 Update

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE: Alhareezi Press Marks 2011 Jerusalem Book Fair with Winter/Spring update

For all media inquiries, please contact the Public Relations spokesperson, who can be found in the Alhareezi library. Unless she is in the English Department Hallway. Or sucking coffee directly from the machine in the teachers room. Or having a brief, cleansing cry in the staff bathroom.
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As the Jerusalem International Book Fair officially kicks off tommorow, I am sure the many devoted readers of the fine writing published the Alhareezi Primary School English-Language Press, Ltd are eager to hear the latest news on our most recently completed and ongoing projects. Although we at the press prefer to let our writers speak for themselves, the authors of our current projects are all very busy with school, basketball practice, ballet, equestrian showings, french lessons, violin practice, and orthodontist appointments this week. As such, they will be, regrettably, unable to speak at the fair. However, so as not to dissapoint their followers, they've asked that I update you all in their stead. It is a role I am especially suited to fulfull, as I also serve as the amanuenis for a number of the authors.

4th grade classes are producing illustrated guides on how to spot witches inspired by Roald Dahl's book The Witches, which we are reading together in class, and which contains much salient information on the subject. Some of these primers also include information on how to combat witches, while others strike a less martial tone and give advice on how to avoid them completely once the witches have been spotted. Art book conniseurs will be delighted to know that several of these books integrate papercraft into their texts, specifically in the form of pop-up and accordian effects. As usual for the writers, the books have been created with a combination of mediums including craft board, brass fasteners, ribbon, staples, oil pastels, ink pens, and fruit-scented markers.

The 6th graders just finished writing their own murder and/or mayhem-filled mystery stories (including "detective notebooks" with suspect dossiers, fingerprints, crime reports, wanted posters, and other important crime-solving documents), and now they're beginning a new project in which they're designing their own superhero alter-ego. They're going to come up with names, call signals, costumes, and logoes (with accompanying explanations), choose sidekicks, describe their arch-nemesis, and document the training exercises we're going to be doing in class to muscle up, as it were. This training is going to include riddle-crafting and decoding lessons (because bad guys are always trying to stump super-heroes with nefarious puzzles), tests of how much pyschokinetic/psychic potential they might have, and practice-time to develop heroic poses and catch-phrases. Once their individual super-heroes have been created and fully-documented, the portfolios will be combined into a Super Heroes of Alhareezi [ed: working title]. Featuring such memorable characters as FartMan, Princess Cola, Captain Crush, and the Amazing Guy, the anthology will be available just in time for the Pesach gift-giving season.

A multidisciplinary project by one of the press's second-grade clients is still in the works, but promises to be an exciting addition to the imprint. The writer was inspired by his reading of the William Pen du Bois classic, The Twenty-One Balloons, and is currently doing his own research on the history and engineering of hot-air balloons and other dirigibles. Right now, he is sketching and building models of new air-craft, and these will be evantually accompanied by detailed diagrams and technical explanations of the concept vehicles' inner workings and potential applications. For those who remember the writer's last published work, Pumpkin-Head Terror :Parts I, 2, and 3, released on October 31st of last year, this work will come as an exciting departure from the horror/thriller genre.

Of course, no report on the press's latest work would be complete without an update on the upcoming released from our third-grade writers. After the surprise success of the small poetry collection inspired by such disparate topics as the Titanic disaster, Ann Frank, and french bulldogs, which received much acclaim after it was displayed on the English-Speakers bulletin board , that collection's writer is back with a new project. Turning her pen to the world of botany, she is on the brink of completing her first non-fiction offering, entitled simply The Venus Fly Trap. The book offers advice on caring for the eponymous plant, in addition to a short history of the plant and its carnivorous brethren, a comic strip depiction of the plant's eating mechanism, and the piece's centerpiece--the lyrics of a rap song soon to be recorded by the writer. She has been gracious enough to allow us to share the complete lyrics with you now:
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The Venus Fly Trap Rap: The Soon-to-be Smash Hit Single

If see a plant who just goes "snap"
You're looking at a venus fly trap

Snap!

There we go!
Another insect down below.

Oh!

A ladybug went near
The only thing left was a single tear

Single tear! Single tear! Single tear1

[bridge and dance break]

I'm a venus fly trap and I'm here to say
All you boring plants get out of my way

I'm living large, yeah, I'm on the scene
My appetite is large and my leaves are green

Give me some flies, they sure are sweet
But don't feed me no hamburger meat!

Yeah!
[fade to finish]
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With that sentiment as a fitting coda, we at Alhareezi Primary School English Press, Ltd. wish you a very happy Book Fair, and encourage you to visit this site for further information on our literary offerings as they develop.


Becky Perlman
Publisher/Editor-in-Chief/Head Amanuensis/Master Book-Binder/Translation Dept. President/Public Relations Spokesperson/CEO, Stickers and Treats Division

Alhareezi Primary School English Press, Ltd.

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FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
For all Media inquiries, tell the armed school guard standing at the locked front gates that "Anee rotsah/rotseh ledahbear im Becky ha more-ah ah-mare-ee-kai may-shoo-gaht" (I would like to speak with Becky, the crazy American teacher.)

Recess Duty

Although I am still an object of considerable bemusement and (slightly-veiled pity) at the primary school where I teach, my nacscent Hebrew skills and growing understanding of the school's rules and disciplinary policies have now been deemed sufficent to qualify me for a shift as recess monitor, a responsibility I was excused from last year on the grounds of what was referred to at the time as "unmitigated cluelessness" (yes, that is the exact translation from Hebrew).

All the teachers on staff take turns watching various quadrants of the sprawling school yard during the two daily recesses. Hahfsahkah gadol, or "the big break" takes place at 9:50 after first and second period and includes ten minutes to eat breakfast and fifteen minutes of outdoor/indoor free play. Hafsakah katan or the "little break" takes place from 11:45 to 12:00 and is reserved for free play only. The recurring, cyclical recess monitor duties are determined by the head "morah sport" (literally "sports teacher," or what American kids would call the PE teacher), an energetic blonde lady who walks around with a wireless microphone pac strapped round her waist and a headset microphone that gives her the air of a roving pop star, circa 1998. Only in Israel would a teacher employ a tool to make her shouting even louder than it is in its unaltered guise. The sport teacher composes the recess duty roster in a process that seems to rival the seeding of college basketball teams for the NCAA tournament, and renders this roster in an spreadsheet-like matrix that is printed out and tacked to the bulletin board in the teacher's lounge, where it is set upon at once by the other teachers and heavily annotated with the details of swapped days, adjustments to the schedule because of field trips or assemblies, and requests for clemency due to upcoming maternity leaves.

I typically do not even notice the new schedule's existence until its miniscule type has been smeared, crossed-out, and written over, whereupon it becomes nearly impossible to read. Consequently, I can frequently be found before 1st period stranded in front of the bulletin board, with my eyes screwed-up and an index finger tracing along the schedule's tiny boxes, reading the names out loud softly under my breath in the manner of a preschooler with "Hop on Pop" on her lap. My search for the three letters that spell out of my name-Bet, Koof, Yud--is complicated by the fact that often, although not consistently, my name is spelled as Bet, Tet, Yud (or "Betty") instead.*

Figuring out my alloted recess duties every week pales in comparison to the actual job. First of all, my school is comprised of several buildings on one central, large campus (the main school building, that also houses the principal, registrar, secretaries, and medic's offices, a freestanding gymnasium, art studio, and theatre classroom, two banks of classrooms, the school garden, and the school zoo. This is in addition to two small playgrounds with the usual assortment of swings, slides, and monkey bars, a soccer-field, and two basketball courts. There's also a security guard hut near the locked front gate and outdoor smoking area adjacent to the teacher's lounge, natch). Consequently, teachers are strategically scattered across the campus to ensure no area goes unmonitored. To minimize fighting, the athletic fields are each reserved for the students of different grades--the play areas are assigned from youngest to oldest in orders of increasing desirability. You have to pay your dues to move from the playground equipment to the second best basketball court and so on (as you might have guessed, the football field is the most coveted location). This means that each teacher can count on a finding the same crowd of kids in her territory every recess--a helpful asset when it comes to mediating fights, staunching tears, and other diplomatic efforts. For example, I'm always sent to the "Gimeleem yard," or the area where the third-graders play, so I've gotten to know a lot of the kitah gimel students who aren't in my classes, and become privy to the intricacies of their social ties and recurring conflicts.

The girls seem to be the ones with the perennial rivalries and problems. Noe is always upset with Shira for being too bossy, and Lior, Gaea, Heela, and Tamara are always incensed by the copycat choreography of their hip-hop dance rivals: Oren, Savion, Zoe, Roenni, and Corahl. The girls are also the ones who come up for advice, commiseration, and validation, and in my case, to teach me Hebrew necessary to fill in what they see as the most alarming gaps in my general knowledge--in other words, Hebrew riddles and jokes (these tend to require a committee of girls to provide a translation that is nonetheless nearly always completely incomprehensible), idiomatic phrases, and slang. A lot of the girls also like to cruise by to see if the breakfast *I* packed seems more interesting than their own, and if so, to cadge the majority of it with sustained, high-pitched whining.

Overall (and unsurprisingly), the attitudes of Israeli kids and teachers towards recess are markedly different than those of their American counterparts. First of all, there is a more cavalier, less stringent regard for child safety, with the attitude that the kids need to learn to avoid dangers by themselves, rather than simply obeying a passel of rules blindly without context.

So, unlike in my childhood elementary school, no one is halted from scaling any of the tall trees that dot the campus, or from attempts to shimmy up the poles of the basketball court baskets. No teachers intercede in arguments among students, no matter how heated they become, or how outnumbered one side might be, unless the kids are on the brink of blows. Industrious kids can be found digging massive holes, and attempting to booby-trap playground equipment. Requests from students for arbitration of athletic disputes is met by most teachers with the trenchant (well, in Israel at least) and deadpan hypothetical, "Ma lehsoht?" (literally "what to do?" or "What can I do?") or its cousin, "Ehn mah lehsot" ( literally, "there isn't what to do" or "Nothing can be done about it"), and even serious offenses like purposeful hitting, kicking, and the like, still do not rouse the other teachers to move from their benches. Instead, the emit a strident "Boh!" or "Buena!" ("COME!") to the offending party, who is compelled to separate himself from the herd and slink shamefacedly torwards the teacher for his commeupance. Just like David Caruso in CSI: Miami, teachers will puncuate a particularly pointed remark by removing their sunglasses for emphasis. The offenders tend to respond to punishments with sullen silence and aqcuisence or, more commonly, with heated invective and finger-pointing, sort of like tiny acolytes of John McEnroe.

 Children are let loose in the school zoo during both recesses, under the capable, but far from constant supervision of the "nature teacher," Daphna (she teaches the kids about, basically, life science: i.e. botany and zoology, environmentalism and ecology, and animal care. she also manages the zoo and cares for the animals (along with two assistants). As some of you know, the "teaching and touching zooological garden" at my school is sort of an amalgam of a children's petting zoo and a home for the typical classroom pets you see in any elementary school. So, there are the usual suspects like abundant bunnies, guinea pigs, hamsters, mice, rats, turtles, crabs, and fish. But there are also ferrets, a very depressed and dyspeptic looking fennec-fox (native to Israel), one sheep, five goats, a family of ducks and a pair of geese who share a small pond, several parrots, a terrarium full of stick bugs and another full of praying mantises, newts, two large aviaries filled with finches, parakeets, canaries, and doves (one in the zoo, and one in the main school building), and two extremely grumpy peacocks. Students are allowed to help feed the larger animals and clean their homes, and that's done with Daphna or another adult. They are also allowed to play with any of the smaller animals they can clutch in their grubby little hands.

Therefore, I'm sorry to say that the school's guinea pigs, bunnies, lizards, hamsters, and every other living thing small enough to be held or cradled are all subjected to two brief but probably dreaded fifteen minute periods daily of  the loving, well-meaning, but not always especially gentle minstrations of the schools apprentice zookeepers. Though the animals are supposed to stay in the zoo area or around its perimeter, I will occasionally be visited by enthusiastic students who thrust bunnies, hamsters, or guinea pigs into my laps, or who visit me toting a plastic box full of mice and play equipment (you know, tunnels, wheels, those sorts of things) or with a parakeet on their shoulder, affectionately nibbling the child' ear.

Recently, a massive tractor with a cherry-picker like attachment was driven into the school yard by a cadre of tree-trimmers (to the fascination and excitement of all male students in grades one and two). They stopped their work to take a coffee break during the first recess and watch unfazed as several of the boldest students clambered into the cab of the tractor and mounted its huge back wheels. The kids uninterested by the heavy equipment instead occupied themselves by collecting the felled branches (ranging in length, girth, and weight from "appropriate for roasting marshmallows" to "can not be physically lifted without the help of two additional buddies"). Now, in my culturally-myopic, quaintly American view, I was horrified to see the kids let loose on the tree trimmings. In fact, combining a bunch of hyper children (rooted in a culture that is not known for an emphasis on reserve or restraint) with a bunch of pointy, long, sharp, spear-and-bayonet-shaped objects in an outdoor free-for-all is basically my idea of a complete clusterfuck. I was not alone in this view: Trevor, one of ny newest and sweetest students; a butterball of a first-grader who (not coincidentally) recently emmigrated from South Africa, huffed and puffed up to the bench where I was sitting two minutes after recess began. He plaintively asked me, "Why are all the big boys playing with the sticks?" I told him that I didn't know, and he looked at me quite seriously while echoing the dire prediction that no doubt both he and I (decades earlier) had heard from numerous sources--teachers, moms, and grandparents included:

"They could put their eyes out!"

Of course, I concurred, but the general consensus from the adults in power seemed to be that a few detached retinas, a handful of minor puncture wounds, and innumerable wicked splinters were all a judicious outcome to risk in exchange for the pedagogical and social value of allowing the kids the chase, hit, poke, and whack each other with tree branches.

And that, for both better and worse, seems to typify Israeli-style recess!





*This is not an isolated event. "Becky" isn't an Israeli name, although Betty (don't think "Betty Draper" so much as this phonetic rendering: "behh-TEE") is, albeit an uncommon one. Nearly every time I introduce myself, in spite of special pains to really spit out what one of my first-graders winningly refers to as the "Kih, kih, kih, kay!" sound, the receiving person squints a little and asks, "behh-TEE?" Then, I repeat myself, and explain that it is the nickname (literally "small name") of "Rebecca," which I usually have to also translate from its anglocentric form back into the original Hebrew, or "Reevkah." Reevkah, of course, while one of the oldest female names in the Jewish tradition (remember Yitzak/Issac's wife?), is not currently very au-courant, nor has been for decades, making it somewhat incongruent to an Israeli meeting me for the first time, in the same manner that an American might stop short upon being introduced to a 25-year old named ""Estelle," "Evelyn," or "Lenoir"). All lovely names, to be sure, but  ones more readily associated with a member of the AARP.