'You can never get enough of this stuff'

The second the bell rang celebrating the start of winter break, I began feeling terrible. I often do not feel great. I am one of those middle age (or I guess now, what part of life is this, early-old?) women who suffers from a chronic health problem that does not rise to the level of needing the reader's empathy, but is bad enough to not be the person that I wish I could be more days than not. 

I mention this because typically after winter break I get a surge of energy to drive home with the kids and begin packing, doing laundry, and cleaning. Only yesterday, I had that same feeling that comes over me many days - upset stomach, fatigue, nausea, and other problems. I managed two hours of cleaning out my son's closet to find the clothes that fit him, but that was all I had to give. By 4 p.m. I was in bed ceding the process to my very capable husband and kids. 

My specific malady is most likely, I would say most definitely, from a surgical complication that occurred last March I did my 20th deep dive while in bed, and there's likely nothing to do. I even looked at medical trials. (If you have Chrones Disease, which I don't, Israel is the place to be!)  Cue my husband who will ask me where I got my medical degree.

After searching the web to see the latest research (not reddit, like real research, okay reddit too), I started the scroll of doom. I won't tell you what was there in case you read this piece at a another time and place, I don't want to remind you about this week, but it was an awful week that won't make the history text books, if there are history text books in the future, but was so terrible that it probably changed our DNA. Our world is one big earthquake with aftershocks and tsunamis followed by more earthquake, aftershocks, and tsunamis. Only all of these disasters are man made. The only reason I don't collapse is because I have children. And I decided when I had children that no matter if I was sick or sad, I would make a happy life for my children.

I woke up at 3 a.m. with a pain. It went away. And then I woke up and 6 a.m. ready for the day. 

"You okay," my husband said. 

"Yup," I said. "Thanks for taking care of the kids and getting everything ready."

He had done everything except packed for me and cleaned. I finalized those small items, and we headed for our 60th cross continental flight. 

The surgery I had was the result of a condition that took three years to diagnose. To get the final diagnosis, I had to lie to the doctor and say I never had one diagnostic test in order for him to even see me. He diagnosed me within seconds. When I told him I had lied to him, he asked to see the diagnostic test. He said that the radiologist had misread the scan.  I tried a less complex surgery, initially, to treat the problem, but the results were temporary, about a year. One day I will talk more directly about the initial medical condition. I just don't feel like it.  I hope that's okay. 

The original medical condition made me very, very sick in that the pain was awful, and I lost 20 plus pounds. Everyone thought I looked amazing. Now I look less amazing. The current medical complication has resulted in weight gain. I joke to people it's because I got hungry. But to be honest, I eat very little. Perhaps because I don't feel well, I'm not moving much.  I am trying not to get above one number, but I've gained13 pounds since my lowest weight. Now those beautiful new clothes I bought don't fit anymore. My dreams of being a middle aged, no, oldish five food model will have to be realized in another lifetime. 

We arrived at the airport. For the first time in three years, there was "only" one "Bring Them Home:" Sign, Ran Gvili is assumed to be killed and his remains are in Gaza. It was  reported that the 24-year-old police officer was killed while trying to defend Kibbutz Alumim on October 7, 2023, before Hamas took his body. For the past two years we'd walk down the departures hall carrying the weight of the hostage families with us wherever we went. My husband asked me if I felt relieved that the signs were no longer there. I said that they were there, even if they weren't there. Had everyone come back alive, had most of them come back alive, had October 7 never happened, it would have been a different story.

In two years, in Gaza, the West Bank, Israel, and Lebanon, more than 100,000 humans were killed. No, they aren't all equal. Babies aren't the same as terrorists and dancing twenty somethings are't the same as soldiers. I teach AP Euro, and as I teach a massacre from the 1600s,  I can't help but think how little we have evolved. 

We have our traditions at the airport - what we eat, where we eat, what we buy. The kids buy candy that I don't allow ordinarily. I treated myself to some old school Watermelon and Apple Nerds. It was time to board. We went through our fifth security check and then as we got on the airplane, score, both of the rows that we were sitting in had an open seat. 

My kids were surprisingly generous with their candy. I had a few pieces from each of them and downed a bunch of Nerds. 

In the row next to us sat a young woman at the window. I'm going to name her Madison. Madison was cute, brunette, wearing the sweatpants all young women ages 16-25 wear. They wear them to school to bars to bed and to the airplane. If I sound judgy I'm not. I approve. 

A couple of minutes later a tall young man, the same age as the young woman, with dark hair and glasses sat on the aisle seat. They began talking. I'm not sure who started the conversation. I was just impressed they didn't immediately turn to their phones to avoid human contact. 

I'm going to name him, too. I happy to report upon first impression Carter did not seem like a bruh nor a nerd. 

"Check it out," I said to my daughter. She took off her headphones showing her tongue blue from candy. "We have a potential love match over there."

She looked to the right and smiled and went back to Stranger Things. I make her take a break after every episode and read. My son is sitting with my husband so he's playing half a day of Madden. 

What I didn't tell her was that when I was 20 I met a boy on an airplane. I don't remember his name, so let's call him Thomas Jefferson. It was Thanksgiving. I was spending the semester at American University. I was flying from DC to South Bend. I don't remember the route, but I do remember that it was a flight with huge delays, incredible turbulence, thunder and lightning, and fireworks. (I should tell her so she can say, "Oh Mom!") 

During one of the bumpy parts of the flight, Tommy and I held hands. During another part Tommy  held me. And during another part, well, we kissed passionately. To be 20! He was a student at the University of Virginia. I would only be at American University for a few more weeks and then I would be returning to Indiana University. Tommy said he would come visit two weeks after Thanksgiving. 

Now, this was before cell phones. There was email and land lines in the dorm room. I spent no time in my dorm room. I had an internship at a magazine, went to school full time, and worked at Starbucks (when it was a great place to work.  Twenty hours of coffee training - we learned about coffees from all over the world and how to taste the differences). I also went out almost every night.

I did not actually think Tommy would visit me. But the two weeks after Thanksgiving I received an email, "you busy tomorrow?" 

Part of me was excited, but part of me was panicked. It's one thing to kiss Tommy passionately on an airplane. It's another to have a stranger visit you in your dorm room.

 I wrote him, "Are you coming with anyone?"

He wrote back a few hours later. "Yes, my friend's girlfriend goes to Georgetown. He goes up there all the time." 

Okay, great. It took the pressure off of me.

He arrived on Friday at about 4 p.m..It was December and already very dark out. I lived on a coed floor (which was a shock when I arrived the prior August) and a few of the guys on the floor were a bit protective when he arrived. 

John, Adam, and George were in their room playing cards. John, who was from Phlily, attended Lehigh, and said my name with this great accent yelled, "All good Sharns?

"All good," I said. 

"Ya mean it, Shahna," Adam, a native of Boston  said,

"I mean it as much as I mean Boston College Football team sucks," I answered. The boys laughed. "What do you want to do?" I asked Thomas Jefferson.

He looked at my roommate disappointingly. My roommate was Charlotte from Paris. She had stopped speaking to me a couple of weeks prior. I had no idea why, but unlike my usual nature of needing to please everyone all of the time, I didn't care. I only had about 10 days left in DC, and I wasn't going to spend it on an Unsolved Mystery. 

"Do you want to go on a walk?" he asked.

"Sure," I said. 

So we walked all over DC. It was hard to get back into the initial chemistry of the plane. He seemed very nervous. My legs started to feel weak, and not from love. I had opened Starbucks that morning at 5:30 a.m. Finally, Tommy and I stood before Washington Memorial. It did look beautiful at night.

"Can I kiss you," he asked. 

"Sure," I answered. Yes, the passion was back.  Only to be honest, I really wanted to be sitting, but there was no where to sit. My legs were tired, he was very tall, and it was December -  I was freezing. I decided to put my hands in the front pocket of his jacket. As I did, my hands were cushioned what by seven condoms. 

Now, you might be thinking, "what a responsible young man." And of course, you're not wrong. But for me, someone who wasn't planning on having sex with him,  (smooch or no smooch, I had just met him on a plane), I started to panic. 

"I see you found my plans for us for later," he said. "Where is your roommate staying?" 

"I didn't ask her to stay somewhere," I said. "I can't really do that. It's her room." 

"What do you mean you didn't ask her?" he asked. "Where did you expect me to stay?" 

"I guess I hadn't thought about that," I said, truthfully. "I thought we'd cross that bridge if we got there."

"If we got there," he said. "Why did you think I came here?"

"Well, I hadn't thought about it, but I guess I you thought erroneously that you were getting laid," I responded. 

"Good word," he responded. 

"Thanks," I said.

"Let's head back," he said. 

We walked to Constitution and Independence and he said, "Hey, I'm going to catch a cab and meet up with my friend. I think he's having trouble with his girlfriend."

What's funny about his comment is that when young people do this today, they can look at their phone and pretend to receive a text with the distressed roommate lie. In the 90s, Tommy wanted me to believe he was telepathic.

"Tommy, you are at liberty to go if that's what makes you happy," I said. 

He hugged me, the condoms crunching in his jacket as we embraced.

I waited for him to catch a cab. Now let's say there was board game "Life" for 20something Girls. Here are your choices: 

What is worse? You are a 20 year old guy.  You are 
a. expecting sex from your 20 year old date and then bail minutes after finding you aren't having it. 

b. leaving your 20 year old  date in the middle of DC at night in the dark while you catch a cab.

 I took the Metra to Tenley Town. My roommate wasn't there. I put in my Rent CD and sang every word from beginning to end. She never did come home that night. I was happy because she snored. 

....

I nudged my daughter to check out Andy and Maddi sitting closely together watching the view as we took off. 

"Mom, you should watch a Rom-Com," my daughter said.

"I am!" I said and started singing, "It's a love story baby just say yes." My daughter put back on her head phone.

Andy took off his glasses. Maddi was laughing. The conversation never paused.  So adorable. So cute.

But then I started to feel sick. Very sick. The Nerds. My daughter's candy. My stomach. I took advantage of the extra seat.

It was then that Maddi's and Andy's love story became my nightmare. Their airplane date was very, very loud and my bile was very acidic. I needed to try to sleep this trip away,  Andy and Maddi were talking, and talking and talking. I took off my glasses and lay in the fetal position. Unable to see I asked my daughte quietly, "Does it look like they will stop anytime soon?'

"No, he just moved to the seat next to her," she said.

As soon as the seat betl sign was off, and it did not go off for a couple hours, my husband brought down my noise canceling headphones. I could still hear them. I fell in and out of sleep. I was still rooting for them, but also praying that perhaps they could schedule a date over Christmas Break and go to sleep.

I was feeling sicker and sicker. My daughter insisted I ask the flight attendant for medicine. 

"If you don't ask, I will," she said in her authoritative 12-year-old voice. 

I walked to the back of the plane and asked for Tums. I don't often have acid reflux, but I don't often eat candy on an empty stomach.  The flight attendant told me to go to the back of the plane and ask the other flight attendants. One of them told me he could look through the first-aid kid for Alka seltzer and asked me to please not vomit on him because I looked green. 

Alka Seltzer. I have never had Alka Seltzer. Alka Seltzer is from the 1980s. 

He brought me the Alka Seltzer, I took it, and truth be told, it's the kind of thing when after you take it, you feel better within minutes. My daughter was right. 

Alka Seltzer works by dissolving tablets in water and then drinking the water. Just as my water was fizzing, I was worried that Maddi and Carter were fizzling out. He moved back to his seat, and she was sitting in hers. They were both sleeping, but not cuddling. 

Did she just get out of a relationship? Is he not looking for anything serious? Are they too shy? 

"Should we play the song from The Little Mermaid, "Kiss the Girl?" I interrupted my daughter again.

"I thought you said that movie is sexist," my daughter said.

[Besides the movie beings sexist, I just looked up the lyrics to that song. They are kind of horrible. I even had changed them in my head to make them palpable.]

I wanted to end this post with Maddi and Andy holding hands, walking off the plane, but that only happens in movies (and to me when I was 20 years old). But there are still 4 hours and 20 minutes left in the flight, so you never know was might happen. 

I do hope that at least they reconnect after the flight. When I was in bed yesterday, I read, like sanity, love is out of style. 

I need to make a phone call. 

"So, hi, it's um, I'm calling to dedicate this song to this cute couple that seemed to vibe on the airplane."

"We didn't use the word vibe like that when people dedicated songs."  

"Yeah, well, I'm not as invested as I'm acting either."

"Okay, good. We were getting worried. What song would you like?"

"Well, it issss Friday so..."

Moses is the hero we need this Passover

 During the Passover Seder (dinner), a fun part is that children race through the house looking for the Afikomen - a portion of matzah. The winner gets a prize. Although, at any Seder I have been to, every child receives a gift of some sort. The Passover Seder, which is the retelling of the exodus from Egypt, along with various commandments, parables, blessings, and songs, is actually meant to be for children. However, children, under Jewish law, do not have any obligations. Adults are obligated to tell the story. The reason that it is often boring, if you do find it boring, is because the adults end up just reading it word for word, salivating at the smells of brisket and potato kugel.

In Israel this year and in the diaspora Jewish community, there is a pall on the Seder as there are possibly 25 living hostages in chains in Gaza, starving, unable to breathe, with possibly days, maybe weeks left to live. “Let my people go” is not the cry of the ancients, but rather our cry for the last five hundred and fifty three days since the horrors of October 7. Rachel Goldberg-Polin, the mother of the brutally slain American-Israeli hostage Hersch Goldberg Polin, said recently the question that we must ask at our seders is, “Why are [the hostages] still there?”

At the Passover Seder children ask the four questions and then the adults answer them with the story of the Exodus from Egypt. But the answer to Ms. Goldberg-Polin’s question begs more questions: where are the 2025 versions of Moses, Aaron and Miriam? Where are humble leaders who will risk saving the lives of their people instead of their careers? In addition, where are Mussas, Haruns and Maryams? Where are the leaders who can influence Hamas to end this war right now?

Download a PJ Library Haggadah by clicking on the image.

While these questions are legitimate and important, along with others, I would argue that tonight we must focus on our own ancestral narrative heroes. There is no story like the story of the Exodus. 

And yes, that last plague, the most horrible, is one that we wince at. It’s the one that when a child asks, “Did that really happen?” we might say, “It’s a metaphor,” or something like that or “Why don’t you have some grape juice?” If you’re at a table of adults, perhaps you might want to talk about Gaza. With children, the choice is ours. 

With children, though, remember to finish the story. Leave Egypt with unleavened bread. Cross the Red Sea.

We are not our stories, but our values are defined by how we teach our children about them. We are living in difficult times. Spend tonight talking about the narrative about escaping from slavery. How you do so will shape your children much more so than your rant on instagram about the latest political mishap. (I should know!) The tragedies, inequalities, and incompetent men & women will be there after Seder. Tonight, give your children Moses: an imperfect, but humble, and dedicated leader. Give your children the belief that they too can change the world. One day, we will need them to.

A Veteran Teacher Quit Teaching Over Chat GPT

Nasrallah: wafers or ice cream

This morning I woke up to the news that Hassan Nasrallah, Secretary-general of Hezbollah, was killed in Lebanon during an Israeli air strike in Beirut. Nasrallah was an avid hater of Israel and was responsible for making much of the north of Israel unlivable since October 8, 2023. He was the head of Iran’s proxy, Hezbollah, a Shia Islamic terrorist organization based in southern Lebanon. A perpetrator of misery, I certainly wasn’t mourning him. However, I was displeased getting off the exit on a beautiful Saturday morning after dropping my son off at a friend’s to see three young men handing out candy to cars, wearing Israeli flags.

Most people didn’t roll down their windows, but some did. 

I thought this behavior strange because it is Shabbat, so why would religious people be doing this on Shabbat, and it’s just not really this neighborhood’s typical behavior. Also, I know in Judaism it is forbidden to celebrate another person’s death: “When your enemy falls, do not rejoice, and when he stumbles, let your heart not exult, lest the Lord see and be displeased, and turn His wrath away from him” (Proverbs 24:17).

I dropped off some groceries and told my husband and daughter, I have to run an errand. Lior looked at me suspiciously, “Where are you going?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Now I do want to know,” he said.

So, I told him. He rolled his eyes and asked me to please not to. But the man has been married to me long enough to know that I could not be deterred. 

“I don’t want our kids seeing people celebrating death. At least I can say I tried talking to them. I know it will do nothing,” I said. 

So, I walked to the corner, about 200 feet from our apartment. It is the same corner where there have been protests trying to save Israel’s democracy; protests begging to bring the hostages home. Now, here I was, wearing a purple “Bunny Rock Run 5K Egg Hunt” going to talk to these three guys. 

I crossed two streets to the grassy median which housed their, to my surprise, chocolate wafers, not candy, and asked the leader if I could speak to him and if he could speak in English. He was about 5”10, had blond hair and blue eyes, was shirtless, and wearing the Israeli flag as a cape.

“It’s a glorious day,” he said with a wide grin.

“I see that you think that, but I don’t agree with what you are doing,” I said politely. 

As I took out my phone to show him the Biblical verse, he said it in Hebrew at breathtaking speed. “Yes, I know, but this is not about religion, this is about my country.” 

And then I saw. He and his friends were not wearing head coverings (kippot).  They were not religious, as I had assumed. 

“But don’t you think this makes your country look ugly by celebrating death?” I asked him. 

“Listen, I have hated Nasrallah since I was a very little boy,” he said. “There is no one that I have hated more. Him being dead is the best thing that can happen. This is a glorious day. It is a day to celebrate.” 

“It’s hard for me to understand,” I said. 

His wide smile narrowed. “My father died in the Second Lebanon War. Nasrallah killed him. I’ve been waiting for this day my whole life.” 

“I am very sorry for the loss of your father,” I said. “That must have been very hard.” 

“Thank you,” he said. “I was told he was a good man.” 

With those words, I looked down at the ground. I saw that there was a lot of trash from their boxes of wafers. 

“Do you want me to throw those away for you?” I asked.

“No, you don’t have to,” he said. “The police took my ID number. They told me if there is even one piece of garbage I will be fined.” 

I picked up the garbage and put it in the plastic bag that they had there and went on my way. I stuffed it in the garbage can next to where the protests will be tonight to bring the hostages home. 

I should have recycled the empty wafer boxes, but I didn’t feel like it. 

A few hours later, I brought my daughter to pick up my son. When we returned they were still out there handing out wafers.

My friend came right up to the car. 

The kids became excited seeing the wafers. 

I smiled and waved at him, but did not roll down the windows. 

We do not celebrate another man’s death, and besides, we have ice cream at home.

The neighbor

Nine years ago, we were asked to leave our first apartment in Israel. Our landlord's son had just moved back to Israel with his fiance, and after living with them for a few weeks she asked us to vacate the rental so that she could give it to them because she did not care for her daughter-in -aw to be. 

The cost of our inconvenience would be for our landlord to pay for our move. Since our lease would be up in a few months anyways, we agreed to the terms. Back then, our neighborhood had fewer buildings. Today, it is 20 times the size, but when we had to move out, there were only three apartments for rent. 

We chose the apartment that we live in to this day. To be honest, I've never loved it, but I will be here until the landlord wants it for his annoying daughter or son-in-law, the rent is too high, or we leave Israel. The price is right, and I hate moving. Besides, nothing is perfect, right? 

My son was born five months after we moved in to this brand new building. It was so new that not all of the elevators were functioning. Immediately, the occupants of the building viewed us with some skepticism. They did not like that we were renters. However, I adopted Lior's life's attitude (that's their problem), and most of them were appeased by my children's beautiful eyes, dimpled cheeks, and the fact that we paid our bills and were not very loud. 

There is always an exception to being well liked, and that exception was our next door neighbors. From the second we moved in, our next door neighbors despised us. They spoke poorly about us to our babysitters, saying things like, "How can you stand those people?" One summer, after my nephew and I had cleaned out the storage closet and left a thin line of dust, the scary owner left a note on my door that read in menacing, broken English, "You dirty, dirty woman." There were more threats there. I have that note, but I don't feel like finding it. Life is to short to look through my Google photos.

When Maya was home sick from school one day with Lior, the woman got into a physical altercation with our cleaning woman. The conflict had been brewing for months and climaxed when our cleaning woman called her a "Russian whore." Our neighbor attacked her and she attacked back - all in front of Maya. The police were not called. No injuries were reported. (This is a really nice neighborhood - I swear). We had to, sorry, Lior had to, fire our cleaning woman, who sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. We paid her a hefty severance that one pays in socialized country. I knocked on our neighbor's door to tell her the news. Her response was not one of gratitude but of surprise, "It's so difficult to find someone you trust to clean your home." 

Fast forward several years later to today. I was heading out to the car and there she was at the elevator. (Lior just shuts the door if he sees her waiting there).  I usually stare at my feet avoiding her gaze as she avoids mine. Unexpectedly, she begins a  conversation in Hebrew.

"The elevators move so slowly. Why do they move so slowly?" she asks. 

I hesitate, but say hesitantly, "At least it's better than previous years when only one was working." 

She nods knowingly as if we are friends. The doors to the elevator open. I let allow her to enter first. She asks, "Do you know that I am a nurse?"

"No, I didn't," I say truthfully. "I knew your husband was a doctor." I knew that because she once screamed at me because her husband "a very important physician" was asleep and she said the kids were being too loud.

 

"Yes." she continued. "I work in the ICU at Ichilov Hospital. The 7 p.m. to 7 a.m. shift. Last night was very difficult with the soldiers. Tonight will also be very difficult." 

I looked at her in the eyes for the first time in nine years and said, "Thank you for all the you do." 

This is Ichilov Hospital. 

Cherry picking from sacred texts will leave you bloodied

In the recent marches against Israel, one of the chants heard is "“Khaybar, Khaybar, oh Jews, the army of Mohammed will return."

I'm in the middle of my Islam unit, and I know the context of this line from the Koran, and these protestors are ignorant and antisemitic.

The prophet Muhammed was cool with the Jews, except for a group that betrayed him. He was also cool with Arabs, except ones that betrayed him. It wasn't about their religion, it was about their betrayal.

The way you deal with betrayal in the 7th century, whether you were Christian, Muslim, or any religion, is to kill your betrayers. Religion had nothing to do with it.

It would be great if they tried chanting this: "Whoever does not judge by what God has sent down (including the Torah), they are indeed unbelievers" (Koran 5:44).

I guess it's not as catchy.

Prime Minister Netanyahu also did some bad cherry picking.

On October 28, he quoted "Remember what Amalek did to you" (Deuteronomy 25:17).

For those schooled in the the Hebrew Bible, Jews are commanded not to just fight Amalek, but to wipe out Amalek, which would mean to wipe out the Palestinians, not Hamas. You can say a lot of things about Netanyahu, but he's not stupid. He had to know the meaning of the quote and its significance. There are many, many better Biblical quotes that he could have used like:

“Don’t give me over to the desires of my enemies, because false witnesses and violent accusers have taken their stand against me” (Psalm 27:12) or "Be strong and of a good courage be not afraid neither be thou dismayed for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest" (Joshua 1:9).

During these difficult times, the words and images that are chosen by leaders, by media, and by protestors carry great weight.

This post is dedicated to Shani Louk, who just wanted to dance on October 7, 2023 May her memory be for a blessing.

Still here

It has been a year since you have been gone, but this week you were with me. 

....

I helped two friends in the same way that you would have. That's all I can say about that. 

Ben scored two goals today. When he scores, he imitates Messi, who takes his fingers to his lips and then to the sky. Benjamin says Messi does that to remember his grandmother.  So Benjamin does the same motion in honor of you. He did it twice and looked back at me with his million dollar smile. You would love seeing him smile. 

I wish you were here for Maya. I feel like I'm not equipped for this next difficult phase of her life. I know you'd tell me to calm down, to not over-parent. I need you to tell me that she will be okay.  We turned out okay, after all. And then you'd laugh and make a joke saying, "maybe not." 

.... 

If you were alive, I wonder if I would be home right now. I wonder if you would have really pressured Lior or me. I wonder if we would have argued. It was very hard to say no to you. You did so much for everyone in the world. How do you say no to Abe Marcus? You would have said "do me this one favor, please." On the other hand, I wonder if you would be proud that I'm here. I haven't stayed because I'm a zealot. I've stayed because it makes the most sense for my family. It's safe where I am. It's stable. It's best for my health. I can be the best teacher possible here. It's best for my family economically. What brought you the most pride was that I had made smart decisions in my life, even though they took me so far away from you, mom and the rest of the family. 

It couldn't have been easy for you when you left your family. In 1961, Indiana was practically Israel for someone from New York State. I never asked you that. I wish I would have...

...

In class today, I was teaching about the Islamic Golden Age. We talked about the Muslims innovations in terms of finance including business partnerships and credit. I asked the class, (17 12th graders half asleep, looking at their phones, or doing other homework on Zoom) who was familiar with the concept of credit, credit cards, and interest. None of them really knew much about it and those who volunteered answers were off in their understanding. 

Obviously, this unit is very important, but so is a 17 or 18 year old knowing the basics of credit. I pleaded with them to listen. "What I'm about to teach you could save you thousands of dollars in the future!" This peaked their interest (great joke, right dad?) So I taught it to them including the importance of building your credit, but paying off your credit card every month so you don't have credit card debt. We looked at the math so they could see it for themselves. I told them that you taught me to pay off my credit card every month, and that maybe, just maybe, this lesson had come up because it was the anniversary of your death. 

For some students, that kind of emotion makes them uncomfortable. For the ones who've known me for a while, they were touched. Teaching in this way is just impossible, dad. I know you would be impatient with my complaining, you'd tell me "that's what you get paid for," but it really is. 

Then I told them that hoped they were okay with me going off topic, but I really felt this was an important lesson for them to learn, and I know that you would have thought so too. 

My Muslim Arab student said it was a perfect lesson because in Islam it is said that you shouldn't spend more money than you have and loaning with interest is frowned upon. 

So today's class had her blessing. 

I hope it had yours too.

I miss you so much Dad. 

.....