Miri Westreich lives in Petach Tikva (but her heart is on the Carmel). Miri is a literature teacher at Yeshivat Amit Kfar Ganim, a lecturer in Bible and legend at Midreshet Lindenbaum Lod, and Midrasha at Bar Ilan, and a facilitator of writing workshops. This year Miri published the book “Poetry Poetry” with Ami Glazer. Miri says, “Most of all I’m a teacher. And that’s my love and choice. I did not come across this by mistake, and every day I choose it again and again.”
Who I am in 99 words
Miri Westreich, married to Avishalom and mother to Tamar, Arieh, Shmuel and all. Lives in Petach Tikva (but the heart is in Carmel). Literature teacher at Yeshivat AMIT Kfar Ganim, lecturer in Bible and legend at Midreshet Lindenbaum Lod and Midrasha at Bar Ilan, and facilitator of writing workshops. This year I published the book “Poetry Poetry” with Ami Glazer. Most of all, I’m a teacher. And that’s my love and choice. I did not come across this by mistake, and every day I choose it again and again.
I chose to be photographed with…
A selection of Avraham Halafi’s poems. He wrote without knowing and intending many songs that pinpoint the isolations and closures. The first quarantine accompanied the students and me in short videos I sent with a song for that day. He was one of the leading creators who accompanied us along the way. The thought that the poems that make us so precise were written regardless of Corona suddenly made clear the relevance of literature to our lives. Sometimes eternity disguises itself as a song: “Someone says he sang quietly/between a window, walls, and a square door/ narrow-minded his boundaries/and space-was the mind.”
A teacher in Corona is
A man full of faith. First of all, faith in G-d, who leads the world, even if we fail to understand. Faith in students who will find the strength to elevate themselves above the actual difficulty, and move forward, faith in himself that he can change, evolve, come to terms with reality and instead sink into defensive fear – to grow.
One student – one story
On the screen of my cell phone appeared one night the name of a graduate who was a super major in literature who studied at our house at night. I was delighted to see his name on the screen because the soul of the whole household was very attached to his soul, and I wondered what he was asking for. After the “How are you” I asked – “So where are you today?” And he replied: “In the army, and actually for that, I called you teacher.” After a few more stutters of humility that I remembered always accompanying his words, he finally explained, “I’m finishing a pilot course soon, and I wanted to invite you to meet the Air Force Commander as an influential figure.” At night I thought how much he, regardless of being a pilot now, was a character influencing me. How I learned from him and his friends in the track what true listening is – also to each other but mostly to the words that embroider the works. They approached every text or every task with true inner openness to hear, to change, and not just to be heard with some humility.
Inspirational character
I talk to my grandmother Malka every Saturday night. And every Saturday night again, she asks to hear what I taught this week, what I plan to teach next week, and after she listens quietly, she shines a word or clarifies with a question what I asked to say. This custom of ours has not changed since the outbreak of the Corona, and it constantly illuminates for me the way we deal when the world is shaking: being very guarded, staying at home despite the great loneliness, getting vaccinated, and at the same time not letting the wind push in and lower our fears. Every week she reminds me not to forget – we are people of faith.
