Skullcaps n switchblades, p.20
Skullcaps 'n' Switchblades, page 20
He paused for just a moment. "No. Well, you'll always have that sort of thing."
One of my close friends, Dr. Richard Dicker, a pediatrician from New Jersey, once told me that your true friends get nachas, (joyous satisfaction), from your accomplishments. The others either don't care or are jealous. So, why worry? Just do what you've got to do.
"It will be good for the school," Dr. D continued, "And a real nice addition to your resume!"
I toyed with turning it down for a few minutes, but it was an exciting opportunity. Of course, I was ready to go full-steam ahead.
"What do I need to do?" I asked. "I mean, do I have to do anything special?"
"Just gather all the articles, news clippings, photos, and letters about your programs, anything you've got. Put 'em together in a nice, neat photo album and I'll turn it in to the review panel. If you're selected as one of the three finalists, then...well, let's worry about that later."
We shook hands and he wished me Mazel Tov.
"Yeah, I'll need it," I said. "Thanks, Doc."
For the next four weeks I was an emotional hot potato. I had mixed and uncertain feelings about the entire thing. I tried to be as realistic as possible. On the one hand, I was the only teacher in the school system who wore a yarmulke. I wondered whether the world in general, (especially the educational world), was ready to accept the fact that my orthodox approach to life translated well to the classroom. Then too, would they wonder about how a bearded, Orthodox Jew actually got along with inner-city kids? The concept was unheard of. Another concern had to do with the unusual methodologies I used in my classroom. Although I tailored the learning materials to accommodate my student's strengths, I strongly supported motivational rewards and experiential learning, techniques that had long ago been shelved by many educators.
It was a long wait. Finally, I got the news from Dr. D. regarding the many applicants. I was indeed among the three finalists. (I knew the moment he gave me a "high five" when I walked into his office).
Shortly after receiving the good news, the Board of Ed called me and told me about the critical last step. The three finalists would be interviewed before a panel.
"Who are the panel members?" I asked.
"One is the head of the P.T.A. for the Buffalo Public Schools," he said. "An assistant superintendent is another. The third member is Father Roberts." Father Roberts ran a large parish and was a prominent figure in the city. I predicted that he would either love me or hate me.
The big day came, and for the first time in a long while, I wore a suit and tie. I looked like a Bar Mitzvah boy again. In the waiting room, I met the other candidates. They were two very nice, older women. One looked like my Aunt Phyllis. They were both far more experienced. In a way, I felt it wasn't fair for me to even be there and I actually began to feel a bit guilty. We spoke to one another for almost twenty minutes before the first candidate was called in. Being good sports, we wished her luck. For the next half hour, the second lady and I tried to make the best of a nerve-wracking situation. Thank Heaven, I was called in second.
The Hebrew word panim means face. It comes from the word pnimius which means inner-being or essence. In other words, the face of a person often reveals his or her essence and personality. We exchanged greetings, and I quickly scanned the panel. They seemed to be nice, good-natured people. The priest had sensitive eyes and a warm smile, which gave me a boost in confidence. He later proved to be my biggest supporter.
They seemed genuinely interested in, and even impressed with my work. To my surprise, they were asking some very profound questions.
"How have your students reacted to you?" Father Roberts asked. "Especially since you wear a head covering while you teach?"
"I'd put the question a bit differently, Father," the head of the P.T.A. jumped in. "Don't you feel, Mr. Lazerson, that you're promoting some sort of conflict between church and state? I mean, here you are, an obvious Orthodox Jew, wearing a yarmulka while teaching in a public school. Wouldn't it be better to avoid any direct reference to religion, not just yours, but any religion?
Thank Heaven I'd been through this issue a hundred times before with friends, fellow teachers, administrators, our federation lawyer, and perhaps most importantly, with myself. It was a resolved matter. I attempted to explain it to the panel members.
"It's a very good question," I began. "I have discussed it with many different people, both in and out of the educational field. Thankfully, my appearance creates no legal violation regarding the separation of church and state. I may be, or at least try to be, a religious person, but I do not, of course, teach religion or espouse any religious ideologies. My yarmulka can be likened to another teacher wearing a cross, or a Muslim wearing their head covering. The only real difference is that my particular symbol, the yarmulka, is not as common."
"I think you may be the first," the assistant superintendent said.
I just smiled. I didn't really know what to say.
"And what about your students?" he asked. "How have they taken to all of this?"
"I believe the teacher's personality is the main thing," I said. "It will come to the forefront, for better or worse, no matter what the teacher wears, or what they look like. It's important to dress nicely, but my main objective is to motivate and inspire my students. I think my programs speak for themselves. As far as my religion goes, there is no conflict. One enhances the other."
They looked at each other and seemed satisfied with my answers.
"Okay, Mr. Lazerson. Thank you very much. It was a pleasure meeting you. We wish you continued success."
Everyone stood to shake hands.
"Keep up the good work," Father Roberts said, clasping my palm in both of his hands. "And God bless you."
Whenever I meet prestigious clergy, I'm never quite sure which title to use. Mister is not appropriate. Using just the word "you," such as, "nice meeting you," seems equally ill-suited. "Father," is similarly unfitting, since he is neither my spiritual nor physical father. I believe it is important to show respect and derech eretz, (proper manners), so I responded, "And you too, Sir."
"Try to either be at home or have someone else at home today," the P.T.A. President said as I headed out the door. "You'll hear either way in a few hours."
Driving home, I was a bundle of nervous energy. I believed I had Father Roberts' support, but the others I wasn't so sure about.
Back home, I guarded the phone like a watch dog. The Laz crew said some extra Tehillim, (psalms), to help out. True to their word, the dramatic call came that afternoon.
"Mr. Lazerson?"
"Yes."
"Hi. This is Mr. L, the assistant superintendent from the panel today."
"Hi. How are you?" I wanted to, but I just couldn't come out and ask him.
"Well," he said in a pleasant voice. I'm pleased to inform you that the panel has chosen you as this year's Buffalo Teacher of The Year!"
"Hey, super! That's terrific. Well, thank you for your vote and support," I said, like Joe-politician.
"Can you make it down to City Hall tomorrow afternoon?" he asked. "The superintendent would like to meet you and officially acknowledge you as the recipient of the award."
I tried. I mean I really tried to keep my ego down, but I couldn't help but imagine banquets with plaques, certificates, and fancy speeches. Of course, the media would have to be there in full glory.
"Yes, folks, it's true, this is Eyewitness News doing a live in-depth look into the fascinating classroom of Mr. Laz and his inner-city boys. This is a story of drama, excitement, culture clash, and raw survival."
"Uh, Mr. Lazerson?"
"Oh yes, uh, sure...absolutely!" I said, coming back to reality. "I'll be there. Thanks again."
The actual presentation the following day proved quite interesting. I sat in the waiting room at the superintendent's office for almost an hour. Finally, his door opened. Out stepped another assistant superintendent, who proceeded to eyeball everyone in the waiting room.
"Excuse me, sir," I said standing up from my seat. "I'm here to..."
"Not now, sir," he replied. "I'm very busy. Please be patient." He quickly left the office area and proceeded down the hallway. I picked up another Time Magazine.
Five minutes later, the same gentleman returned. On his way inside, he eyeballed us again like we were Syrian spies. Although each of us was here on legitimate business, the way he checked us out made us begin to feel guilty.
He came out a few minutes later for a repeat performance.
"Sir, excuse me, but I have an -"
"Please sir! I understand that you've been waiting patiently, but the superintendent is busy right now. Hopefully he'll be available shortly."
Again, he bounded out the door and down the hallway.
The third time the assistant pulled off this maneuver; I decided to confront him at the door.
"I'm not trying to be obnoxious or push," I said, "I just wanted to tell you that the Superintendant was expecting me an hour and a half ago, and I didn't want him to think I was..."
"I understand, sir. I understand," he said, his voice betraying his impatience. "But I am busy now, and so is the superintendent. We are waiting for our Teacher of the Year."
I almost hit the floor.
"Now, if you'll excuse me. I must be..."
"I'm the guy you're looking for," I said.
"Sir, please. Just be..."
"I'm the Teacher of the Year, sir."
"Just be -," he started saying, then did a double-take.
"You're what?"
"I'm Dave Lazerson. Your Teacher of the Year. In the flesh and blood."
He turned about three different shades of red. I almost had to pick his eyeballs off the floor.
"Oh my! I'm really sorry," he blurted. "It's just, well...You look like a rabbi or something. I thought you were waiting for the superintendent on some communal matters. What a riot! I'm looking all over for him, and you're sitting here the whole time! I'm sorry I kept ignoring you like that."
"No problem," I said. "I understand. Things like this have happened before."
We both had a good laugh as he led me into the superintendent's office.
Beneath my laugh, however, I fought off the gnawing galus, (exile) feeling. The entire episode reawakened my awareness of a peculiar phenomenon Jews battle within themselves that says, "Don't be too Jewish! Not in appearance or attitude. Not in the secular world. Not in modern times."
But during my meeting with the superintendent I regained affirmation that a Jew is meant to be a Jew, and at the very same time, should be occupied and involved with the world around him. Hopefully, his insights will help change things for the better. My guess is that you can't do one without the other.
I think this concern is probably true for any who have deep ethnic and cultural connections to his or her roots. The blending pot of America, or anywhere on the planet for that matter, is a mythical concept. There is no need to melt down or give up one's traditions and beliefs to become part of society. Our core identification wields the essentials we need to make a positive impact on the world at large.
I didn't realize when I received the Teacher of the Year Award and attended subsequent meetings with the superintendent, that I would later partner with Rabbi Guari to help implement Education Day in the City of Buffalo. This unique commemorative, a project conceived by the Lubavitcher Rebbe, is now an annual event. Its main focus is to bring moral and ethical development into the public school systems, and to all youth. Hey, the way our planet is today, we sure need it.
35
Like an Angel
THIS IS A BIT EMBARASSING TO ADMIT, but worth sharing as a final chapter. It all began when I woke extremely late one morning and ran out of time to say my prayers at home. If I didn't arrive at school punctually I'd have to face Dr. D, (and between the teachers and students it was a toss-up as to who was more afraid of him). He wouldn't, of course, put the wood on me, but I really didn't want to get on his bad side.
So, on this particular school day at Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Community School, my tallis, (large prayer shawl), and tefillin, (phylacteries), accompanied me to class. I was in a quandary, (albeit a selfish one), but nonetheless, it was a real dilemma: I wanted to eat, and in order to do that, (according to Jewish law), I had to pray first. I considered whipping my prayer book out secretly at my desk while I mumbled a few words quietly. No one but me and The Boss would've known the difference.
But when a Jew commits to doing his prayer thing properly, well, we're talking MGM Hollywood – Spielberg – the whole nine. Prayer is a major production for us, complete with black boxes, straps on the head and arm, and a long white shawl that covers the entire body. Not exactly incognito! Most observers don't pay too much attention to the large prayer shawl. I mean, it resembles a rather interesting blanket or an exotic shawl. But the tefillin? That's a whole different story. There's just no way you can put these on in public and not make a scene. It'll definitely raise a whole bunch of eyebrows. Or worse.
Take the January 2010 example when a teenager began putting them on in the back of an airplane. The passengers became agitated because it looked like he was strapping on explosive devices. Passengers told the stewardesses, who then informed the pilot about a potential threat on board. The plane was forced to land prematurely and was greeted by local police, armed federal security agents, and let's not forget the bomb-sniffing dogs! We're not talking a small twin engine prop plane that makes the rounds in Montana, either. It was a US Air flight that took off from none other than NYC, where there's a whole bunch of synagogues, kosher restaurants, and yarmulkes running around. Tefillin is in no short supply in the Big Apple; and with all of those Chabad "mitzvah tanks" running around in full daylight, well, one might just think that those black straps & boxes were commonplace. Uh-uh. Tefillin is gonna raise eyebrows.
To elaborate a bit, here: One box is worn on the head and has two long straps that hang down the front of the person's body. The second box is worn on the upper arm and the strap is wound around the arm and hand. The boxes and straps are actually made out of leather and inside each are several sections of the Torah written in Hebrew by an official scribe. These are holy objects and worshipers won't even bring them into a bathroom.
In Kabbalistic terms, Tefillin is the antidote for schizophrenia, because it is a mitzvah that unites the individual's main forms of expression: Thought, speech, and action. Still, to the outside observer, especially to someone who's never seen such a thing, it certainly might appear that the guy is some wacko suicide bomber.
Imagine if that 17 year old teenager on the plane had suddenly grabbed one of the straps: "Don't come any closer," he might yell to the security agents, "or I'll touch the strap to this box!"
"Take it easy buddy," they'd respond. "No need for such drastic measures! We'll just back off nice and slowly."
Another Tefillin incident involves none other than Howie Mandel and me. Howie is well known from America's Got Talent, Deal or No Deal, and from his earlier TV stints in St. Elsewhere and SNL. Showtime bought the rights to my third book, Sharing Turf – Race Relations after the Crown Heights Riots, and turned it into a major film. They also used three of my band's original tunes. We called our band Project CURE, which stands for Communication, Understanding, Respect, and Education; and well, for more exciting info about the events leading up to the movie, you're gonna have to read that book. (While you're at it watch the movie. It's called Crown Heights and Howie Mandel plays me in it).
It was mighty coolio indeed to hang out with Howie in Toronto where they filmed a lot of the movie. My first day on the set, I asked Howie if he wanted to put on Tefillin. He replied in the affirmative and said he'd do so once filming was finished for the day. "Been a long time since I last wore them," he added. "Maybe since my Bar Mitzvah."
Everyone on the set, the actors, actresses, film directors, etc., knew me as Dr. Laz, and they knew that Howie was playing me in the movie. But they weren't really sure what our relationship was beyond the Crown Heights film. As the sun began its descent, I reminded Howie about the Tefillin because the mitzvah has to be done during daylight hours. Howie, and pretty much all the other actors, were outside taking a break from filming. There were more than 100 fans waiting behind the police tape, trying to get autographs.
"Let's do this!" Howie said with some enthusiasm. I started walking toward the building. "I'll do it right here," he exclaimed.
I turned my gaze to all the onlookers and gave him that "huh – you sure?" kind of look.
He responded by rolling up his sleeve. I turned my back to the crowd and began the rather unusual process of, what we call in the Torah biz, wrapping the straps.
"I told ya," one of the actors said out loud. "Dr. Laz is Howie's personal physician! He's taking his blood pressure!"
I couldn't help but chuckle. Guess they finally had me figured out! I didn't want to spoil the party and tell the whole crew that my Ph.D. is in Educational Research & Evaluation, with a minor in Urban Ed.
Next, I put the head box and straps on Howie. I could only imagine what they were thinking at that point: "Wow! Never saw that before. Must be some kind of new gizmo for brain scanning or something! The doc must have the latest technology for Howie!"
When Howie was in the middle of saying the Shema, (a special prayer said while wearing the Tefillin), I glanced over my shoulder. On the other side of the police tape and barricades the fans were staring in astonishment.
By the way, if you go to Google pics, and do a search under the key word Tefillin, there's a pic of Howie and I wrapping 'em up. Howie's not too thrilled about his facial and head hair, but he's wearing a wig and fake beard for the movie. You'll recognize his face underneath it all. It used to be the number one pic on Google. I think its number three at this point in time.
So, my experiences with Tefillin in public places are legendary, but somehow donning them at MLK Jr. School it was different. Nonetheless, things had been going so well in class that I decided to chance it. All of my students had arrived and believe it or not, were busy doing schoolwork at their desks.
