By Pesha Fischer
The libraries are closed here in my town of Modi’in, so I decided to use this time to reread an appropriate favorite, “Love in the Time of Cholera” by Gabriel García Márquez. As I read the depictions of the lovesick Florentino Ariza, I realized that teaching is a bit like being lovesick.
Normally, I listen to a Daf Yomi on the way to work. As I listen, I think about what elements of the Daf I can incorporate in my daily classes. When I watch Netflix at night, I think about how the show that I am watching can be used to teach a lesson. When my kids do something cute, funny or insightful, I think about whether I can share it in class. When I listen to the news or read an interesting article, I think about which class or student would appreciate knowing what I listened to or read.
But there is no normal now.
Even before my students left Midreshet AMIT weeks before Pesach vacation, there was only talk of corona. Where should they get Purell? Were they going to leave early? Should they wear masks? They had difficulty focusing on the material being taught. Some questioned the relevance in their rapidly changing world.
And then they left.
Some in the middle of the night. Some without saying goodbye. Some with a thank you WhatsApp on the way to the airport. And part of my heart left with them. For what is a teacher without students? What is a lover without a beloved? Gone was the part of me that kept track of interesting information for my students. Gone was the part of me that teaches even while I am not teaching. Yes, there is Zoom and WhatsApp and voice notes and Facebook, but with a seven-hour time difference, I slowly stop keeping track of the little things to share. I try to interest my children in the random facts that I read, like the history of bourekas. They don’t even pretend to be interested. I try to convince my children to self-reflect the same way we do in class. They remind me, “Mommy, we are not your students.”
So, I wait for a time when I will have students in my physical classroom, when we are all in the same time zone, when I have a commute again and can complain about the traffic but then share the news, a podcast, or a story with my students. When I listen to the small voice inside my head, I know I will be waiting for a while.
Pesha Fischer is from Sharon, Massachusetts. She made Aliyah for the first time in 2000 and for the second time in 2006. She has been teaching Halacha and Tanach to students of all ages two decades. She has been teaching at Midreshet AMIT for the last six years. She lives in Modi’in with her husband, Rabbi Elli Fischer, and their four children.
