I'd Like To Buy A Vowel

Today was test day. I didn't know what to expect given the "review" we had yesterday. One of the interesting things about the Ulpan is the fact that every day you could have a new teacher. In class A, we alternate between Leah, a kind woman familiar with the edge of a plastic surgeon's blade, and Hava, a woman who doesn't understand the phrase: "I don't understand." The exact reasoning for this has thus far eluded the bright minds in the Einstein dorms. Our best guess, courtesy of Ryan, is that this is done so we won't get used to any particular accent. My personal belief is that this is done as a means of ensuring no one retains any semblance of sanity at the end of the six weeks.

I spent the better part of last night studying pronouns, conjugating verbs, and trying to avoid Chris. Since his magnificent return from the Ich Ilov medical center, Chris has been relegated to a walking pathogen. We've started calling him the refugee from Brodetsky. Taking his role seriously, Chris has seen fit to contaminate his rescuers with the latest strain of death. Thanks Chris. I'm now fit for my two year stint in Somalia.

I got to class about ten minutes early to find Dustin and Stefan looking forlornly at their notes. Dustin seemed apoplectic about the entire idea. Stefan was in Jerusalem for the weekend and had had little time to study. Hava walked in to the room and noticed a number of new additions to the class. Her usual cry of "Boker tov!" was nowhere to be found. Hava was most displeased. On test day. I couldn't imagine that having any potential impact on my final score.

Hava called the OSP office and chewed them out for unloading new short bus students on her in such a haphazard manner and in such a small room. Apparently her long-winded diatribe had the desired effect and secured one of the spacious rooms upstairs for the remainder of the semester. Given the relative ferocity and rapidity with which she unloaded on the front office, I'm pretty sure she also secured a raise and beachfront property in Crete as well.

We spent the first half of class learning new phrases and verbs, laying the groundwork for infinitives, which we learn later this week. Apparently they are exceedingly tricky compared to their English counterparts. Despite Hava's best efforts, everyone's attention was focused more on studying than learning. It reminded me a bit of high school. And Hava's facial expressions were more than a little similar to the bemused looks Mr. Fletcher would give to the more rapacious members of my high school English class.

Finally it came time to take the test. I wasn't too worried about it. My writing isn't too bad in Hebrew and my ability to translate from block to script is becoming better each day. But the one hang up...is reading. Because vowels are deemed "unnecessary," reading block Hebrew is like reading something Peter Pan wrote; it's essentially imaginary so the ability to pretend is vital to being able to read.

Example: In English the word "banana" is written and read precisely as that. In Hebrew it is written as "bnn." Thus the word could just as easily be read as "banuni" or "binanu" or "benono" if you're new to the language. Sounds fun huh?

I've been assured that eventually one gets the idea and picks it up really quick. I'm holding out hope that this is the case. Israeli children stop using vowels in the second grade. It is seen as inefficient and cumbersome. I respectfully disagree.

The cool thing about Hebrew however is that it is a language within a language. Having been resurrected only last century after nearly two thousand years in stasis, the Israelis practically invented a new language that meshed with the old one. Their ingenuity never ceases to amaze me.

The next forty-five minutes was one of the most grueling and arduous tasks I've ever undertaken. I don't recall anything including the ACT ravaging my brain like this simple little first-grade level Hebrew exam.

After wading through conjugates of verbs, pronouns in singular and plural form, gender association, and translations, I handed my paper in to Hava. She looked over it and after just a single error, she said "Tov" and smiled.

Wait a minute. Did I just get an A?