Wanted some feedback. Good Essay? What is superfluous and what I should add. Thanks.
Ulpan - Not Just A Language School
It was not my choice to move to Israel. When I first heard about my subsequent move four years ago, a feeling of anticipation brewed in me. As the date got closer, my feelings slowly turned to apprehension, and finally, pure desolation. At the airport, I was on the brink of tears. On the plane, I could hardly contain myself, and kept pondering about my seemingly bleak future in Israel. It all seemed grossly surreal: Me living in Israel? I just couldn't grasp the idea of it.
The first couple of months in Israel were the most painful, yet in retrospect, the most important. My level of proficiency in Hebrew was well below the level of native Israelis. Therefore, I was sent to an "Ulpan," or an; "Intensive Hebrew School." Imagine an innocent, American boy, looking two years younger than his age, waking up at the brink of dawn every morning, taking two public buses all by himself to go all the way to the slums of Tel Aviv, where the "Ulpan" was located. When we all gathered at the "Ulpan" on the first of September, I suddenly had an epiphany regarding the people I was going to spend the next few months with. To my right, were five Sudanese refugees from Darfur, all looking frightened and skeptical as to what was to come next. To my left I saw approximately nine other kids, some older than me, and all from different backgrounds. All of us were wondering how we got into this predicament - but we were all there to do one thing: learn Hebrew.
In the beginning, I pitied myself, mostly for the fact that I was taken out of my comfortable, Connecticut suburban life, taken out of my position as head of the debate team and class president, and taken out of my country, my home, and away from my friends, into a threatening jungle of unknown people and cultures. Altogether, we were a class of 17 students, ages 12-17, studying together in an incessantly air-conditioned room, amidst the blistering Tel Aviv heat. We each had a different native tongue, which made the study of Hebrew even more challenging. Somehow, we managed.
I was angry; angry at my parents, angry at the "Ulpan", and angry at the world. I felt that great injustice was done to me. But all that slowly changed, when I started to spent more time listening to the stories of my fellow classmates.
Hassan was 15 when I met him. His parents were murdered in the ongoing genocide in Darfur. He arrived to Israel with his sister, and was residing in a refugee shelter in the slums. He came to Israel with no expectations, other than his innate human rights to be kept, a liberty he did not have in his homeland. Hassan came in through the classroom door smiling every day, in regular fashion. Hearing his story, and seeing how he overcame all of his hardships, while never losing his smile, was truly a humbling experience. It gave me a new perspective as to how fortunate I was. My situation was heaven compared to his, but I was the one making all the fuss.
I eventually went on to finish the Ulpan after about three months, and finally was integrated into a normal school in a nicer neighborhood, but that experience is still with me. People often ask me whether I prefer living in America or in Israel. That is irrelevant, because I have lived in different places during different parts of my life. Comparing them would be like apples and oranges. The right question is; whether I regret moving or not. My answer: I wouldn't have had it any other way.
Ulpan - Not Just A Language School
It was not my choice to move to Israel. When I first heard about my subsequent move four years ago, a feeling of anticipation brewed in me. As the date got closer, my feelings slowly turned to apprehension, and finally, pure desolation. At the airport, I was on the brink of tears. On the plane, I could hardly contain myself, and kept pondering about my seemingly bleak future in Israel. It all seemed grossly surreal: Me living in Israel? I just couldn't grasp the idea of it.
The first couple of months in Israel were the most painful, yet in retrospect, the most important. My level of proficiency in Hebrew was well below the level of native Israelis. Therefore, I was sent to an "Ulpan," or an; "Intensive Hebrew School." Imagine an innocent, American boy, looking two years younger than his age, waking up at the brink of dawn every morning, taking two public buses all by himself to go all the way to the slums of Tel Aviv, where the "Ulpan" was located. When we all gathered at the "Ulpan" on the first of September, I suddenly had an epiphany regarding the people I was going to spend the next few months with. To my right, were five Sudanese refugees from Darfur, all looking frightened and skeptical as to what was to come next. To my left I saw approximately nine other kids, some older than me, and all from different backgrounds. All of us were wondering how we got into this predicament - but we were all there to do one thing: learn Hebrew.
In the beginning, I pitied myself, mostly for the fact that I was taken out of my comfortable, Connecticut suburban life, taken out of my position as head of the debate team and class president, and taken out of my country, my home, and away from my friends, into a threatening jungle of unknown people and cultures. Altogether, we were a class of 17 students, ages 12-17, studying together in an incessantly air-conditioned room, amidst the blistering Tel Aviv heat. We each had a different native tongue, which made the study of Hebrew even more challenging. Somehow, we managed.
I was angry; angry at my parents, angry at the "Ulpan", and angry at the world. I felt that great injustice was done to me. But all that slowly changed, when I started to spent more time listening to the stories of my fellow classmates.
Hassan was 15 when I met him. His parents were murdered in the ongoing genocide in Darfur. He arrived to Israel with his sister, and was residing in a refugee shelter in the slums. He came to Israel with no expectations, other than his innate human rights to be kept, a liberty he did not have in his homeland. Hassan came in through the classroom door smiling every day, in regular fashion. Hearing his story, and seeing how he overcame all of his hardships, while never losing his smile, was truly a humbling experience. It gave me a new perspective as to how fortunate I was. My situation was heaven compared to his, but I was the one making all the fuss.
I eventually went on to finish the Ulpan after about three months, and finally was integrated into a normal school in a nicer neighborhood, but that experience is still with me. People often ask me whether I prefer living in America or in Israel. That is irrelevant, because I have lived in different places during different parts of my life. Comparing them would be like apples and oranges. The right question is; whether I regret moving or not. My answer: I wouldn't have had it any other way.
