Tikkun Olam

I should start out by saying, thank G-d I found a job!  I'm back to teaching, this time little ones, toddler age, at a wonderful preschool which (unfortunately) is very far from my home, but--what can one do?! Because of this, I have very little time for blogging, let alone even being on the PC!  What I now need a computer for, is WORK (translation: gotta getta laptop!)  Unfortunately, the bank account won't allow for that at this time... Kids are amazing, although it is very tiring work, demanding high energy levels (and my knees are protesting vociferously!!).  But it is wonderful how a child's personality develops, and how excited and interested they are in the world around them.  And it is a privilege that I can make a positive difference in a child's life.  I remember how difficult a childhood I had, and how adults around me, including teachers, were not understanding and empathetic. This may be a part of the reasons I went into teaching, almost ...

The title expression is that of a book by Thomas Wolfe , and is commonly used to mean that a person cannot go back to his childhood home and expect it to be the same, expect himself to relive his (or her) experiences and feelings; that time passes, and our childhood is gone forever . I had just read an article in the Wall Street Journal about returning to one's childhood home, and I had never even thought to Google - sorry - to search for the apartment building where I grew up by using Google Maps until I read the article. So I did. Parts of the neighborhood are the same, but I didn't recognize the shops, nor the playground where I used to play as a little girl. When I was little, all playground equipment was made of metal: the swings, see-saws, monkey bars--which I loved to climb to the top, scaring my mother half to death--and the slides, which I used to call "sliding ponds." To this day, I don't know why (but then again, I also called pony-tails 'horse...