The Tale of the Israeli Field Trip

Field trips - those were the best school days, right? It was a freebie; an excuse from the doldrums of repetitive lessons and the mundane. Instead, the minute you arrived at school in the morning, the energy was palpable. You and your class climbed onto a yellow school bus, sat with your best friend, made faces at the cars that passed below you as a cantankerous bus driver careened over twisting and turning roads until you arrived at the museum, theatre or park that you were scheduled to spend the day exploring. Your teacher ticked off names as you climbed from the bus so excited for the change in scenery and endless possibilities that came with it. Things were organized, thought-out, scheduled and cloaked underneath the fun, you came away having learned something new! 

At least that's how I remember the experiences of going to see Frog and Toad at the Flynn Theatre or going to the ECHO Center in Burlington, VT. 

To go on a field trip with an Israeli Elementary school, you should probably throw your foundation in Western field trip practices out the window. Actually, while you do that, just throw all reason out the window. It will not help. You will just waste time grappling to make sense of the madness. It's better to just lean in and become part of it! 

I found out I was going on a field trip with Gilboa School only the night before. Naturally, I tried to figure out where we were going and what we'd be doing - very vital and truly basic things to know for this adventure - but my coordinator merely told me that "you're going to the hills near Tiberius. Pack a lunch."  

Good god, again with the hills and these people! 

At this point I've pieced together that the mention of hills means that water will likely be a present element, but beyond that, it could really be any sort variation. So not only was I to be prepared for anything from 5 inches to 5 feet of water but I also needed to find a way to dress as an authoritative teacher-like figure. 

So sure, no problem. 

When morning rolled around I had on a nice pair of cropped outdoorsy pants (thank you Aunt Judy!) a tank top, sandals and a back-up pair of water shoes in my bag; I had also packed myself a homemade stirfry, fresh mango and yogurt for snack and lunch. I hopped on my bike at 7:30am, picked up an iced café from the gas station en route and rode through town to the school; stashed my bike with Shimon the security guard and walked into the teacher's lounge feeling pretty good about myself. 

This was a mistake. 

I very clearly did not have a handle on what is going on. I said a couple boker tovs to the other teachers who don't speak much English and just watched the scene unfold in front of me. There was money being collected and exchanged by the principle; one teacher was gathering toilet paper; the gym teacher was instructing students to fill up huge water bottles, and everyone else was just doing something to add to the general disorganized bedlam. I decided that the best course of action was to intently sip my iced café with renewed purpose! 

Yael, my gracious Virgil-like guide through the circles of Israeli public school, plus English speaking connection finally arrived. She didn't really know what actual destination we're planning to visit, but she's not concerned, so I shouldn't be either! 

We miraculously managed to get most of the school's 1st-6th graders onto the three buses waiting outside for us. One little girl who speaks English pretty well claims me as her own and plunks me down in the seat next to her and off we drive into the great blue yonder.  

We drive past the rows of date trees and meander over the desert until I can see the Sea of Galilee shining majestically blue in the distance! "We're going to the Sea of Galilee!!!" I say and begin to get excited. I've never been there before and it still blows my mind that I've gone from living in Vermont to being able to access locations of biblical importance; I can't wrap my mind around it being my norm. No one tells me that I'm wrong and all the little kids just nod and continue to ask me questions about my life in America and tell me that I'm as pretty as Bar Raffaeli (they're a smooth talking bunch, these Israeli kids. I've never been so complimented!) 

A short while later, all three buses park and the kids burst off the buses with renewed energy followed by slightly frazzled teachers. We descend upon a large field area punctuated with the occasional tree and weirdly everyone knows it's time to eat. The students and teachers gravitate towards the shade cast from the trees and sit down to eat their snacks.

I've by now, gathered a retinue of the students who are good English speakers, much to the dismay of the little girl, Ofri who claimed me on the bus and apparently does not want to share me. She's told me by this point, that she never wants to leave me and she loves me, all within an hour of being introduced. Were this a first date, I would've played the bathroom card and been making a run for it. But it's a little girl who doesn't entirely have the concept of compromise figured out and loves the shinning unstoppable feeling of being able to communicate with the foreigner and the attention and power it brings. The kids are energetic little sociopaths, but they're relatable and it's easy to tell how much attention they crave and thrive from.

Snack/lunch time or whatever it was, eventually concludes and we gather into small class groups, where some random guys in uniform shirts, who seem to be a sort of park ranger-y, nature nerd meets entry-level rabbi hand out to everyone a random puzzle for us all to solve. I guess that we solved it, but no one informed me what the answer was. Then we all stand up and leave the park to walk through some relatively nice surburban neighborhoods, over a random hill made up of dirt and finally into a toxic looking swamp. 

We're walking merrily along and a little boy named Ido is telling me about how his sister killed someone while she was in the army and was then wounded, when we all suddenly stop and convene around one swampy, greenish pool. Ido tells me that the ranger-rabbi wants us to gather pebbles and put them into our pockets. We do. Then we say a prayer and throw the pebbles into the noxious-looking cesspool in front of us. The ritual is meant to symbolically mimic taking the sins that are weighing us down and casting them from us to honor Yom Kippur. 

The trip continues to be Albert Camus' existential wet dream as we continue through a series of ambiguous and nonsensical tableaux. 

Next, we walk past an old shirtless man wielding a sycthe and really hacking away at the reeds in front of him. No one thinks this is weird or asks why this is happening as we walk by.  

The school kids gather in front of a giant well that seems to be full of trash and stare into it for a while at the bequest of rabbi-ranger. Then apparently lighter from throwing their pebble-problems into an environmental hazard, everyone turns away and climbs back onto the buses without any explanation. 

Our next destination is the closest I get to the Sea of Galilee. We pull up to a well-kept cemetery and all get out to sit under an enclose where we have another spontaneous snack and water break. We have the ranger-rabbi in tow and he seemingly explains something that makes a lot of sense to everyone but me. Then everyone walked off to look at the graves and said prayers if they wished. I never figured out who's grave we were visiting. The closest I got to figuring out what was going on was "it's a woman author who died" - vague, yet unconcerned. We got back on the bus. 

I could recognize where we went next as we entered the city of Tiberias, perched on the edge of the Kineret and Sea of Galilee. We drove past beaches and water parks, which gets the kids as well as me pretty hopeful that we're getting into the real meat of the so far extremely bizarre field trip. But no, that's not in the cards for us. 

Instead, we pull up to another cemetery - although this one is more of a shrine - that is much busier. Souvenir venders line the path up to a roofed area where all the action is. We're separated by males and females and I have to grab a scarf to cover my shoulders. The space we entered was covered walll go wall with pamphlets in Hebrew and there are bibles up for grabs everywhere, but nothing else is in the room. I guess this is Rabbi Rambam's resting place, but I have no idea who he was, or why he was important. What is important to the kids is buying all the ice cream and cheap jewkery they can; one little girl even presents me with a bracelet before I can decline! 

Another silent cue goes through the students and teachers and it seemed to be time for actual lunch! Sandwiches for the whole student body are passed out (I guess that's what the money was for) and everyone finds a spot to sit and contently eat. I eat with a little girl who tells me that "you're a mystery, Hannah! I want to know you more!" So through broken English I try to tell her about where I'm from, my family and pets over my stirfry. 

Then, as quickly as it began, the trip seems to come to an end. We all climb back onto the bus and head home. On the bus, the driver turns up the Israeli music and the kids dance and contort their way back to Beit She'an. 

So that's it, that's all of the Israeli field trip! I'm not sure what we learned and I'm not sure what it added to our lives. Generally, I'm still reeling from the details of the experience since it just felt so random and bizarre. But I hope the story was generally entertaining and you all came away from it as mystified and eager to see more as I was!