foreign language: October 2015

Friday, October 23, 2015

"I Ask Fish for Dinner, Learning Hebrew in Medical School," by MSIH first year blogger Jay Berkes

Hebrew ulpan teacher Michal.

Hebrew teacher: How was your weekend? (Eykh hayah sof hashavua shelcha?)

Me: I ask fish. (Ani mevakesh dagim.)

Hebrew teacher: What? (Mah?)

Me: I ask fish. (Ani mevakesh dagim!)

Hebrew teacher: You ask what? (Mah ata mevakesh?)

Me: Fish (Dagim)

Hebrew teacher: What did you do? (Mah ata asita?)

Me: I ask fish, and I eat fish. (Ani mevakesh dagim, ve ani ochel dagim.)

Hebrew teacher: Ahhhh, you cook fish. (Ahhh, ata mevashel dagim.)

Me: What? (Mah?)

Hebrew teacher: You cook fish, not ask fish. (Ata mevasheldagim, lo mevakesh dagim.)

Me: I cook fish? (Ani mevashel dagim?)

So goes many of the interactions in my first year Hebrew class. Despite the daily reminder that I couldn’t hold a conversation with a four year old, though, learning Hebrew is an interesting little side project. From practicing the phlegmy throat sounds required for certain letters (think lechayim here) to understanding necessary phrases (where is the bathroom?) to reading and writing, I spend my Hebrew class periods bouncing back and forth between giddy joy that I know something and complete confusion at what’s going on.

Easily the hardest part of learning Hebrew while in medical school, of course, is the fact that medical school tends to get in the way of free time. And learning a foreign language, like training a dog, requires consistent daily practice in your free time. But with such a busy course load, it’s difficult to mentally switch gears into Hebrew learning mode. Luckily, two days a week we have a 2 hour class at the end of the day set aside for such training, and switching gears is just kind of forced on you.

While it’s a little tiring, and progress can be slow at times, learning Hebrew does help me feel slightly cooler when I order falafel or hummus. And as esoteric as that sounds, little victories are the bedrock of learning a new language. It’s easy to forget that when you hang out with anyone from a European country and hear them interact in 2-5 different languages, fluently. It’s also a little difficult to build up a cache of little victories of spoken Hebrew in Israel because so many Israelis are also fluent in English. If I had a shekel for every time I’ve tried to use Hebrew to buy groceries only to get a reply in English, I could probably go grocery shopping twice this week.

Polyglot jealousies aside, learning Hebrew adds a very interesting dimension to my medical school experience. To me, Hebrew represents another world of mystery here. Histology allows me to dive deep into the tissues of the body, and I get to see how nutrients squeeze their way to bone cells. Biochemistry allows me to draw out a map of how molecular interactions allow me to use energy. Immunology lets me see how the body defends against a bacterial infection the same way ancient armies fought battles. And Hebrew gets me further down the path of expressing myself and understanding others in a very novel way. Especially when ordering falafel.

With that said, my day of studying is over and I’m pretty hungry. I think I’ll ask some fish for dinner tonight.

Monday, October 12, 2015

My New Golden Rule, by MSIH's first year blogger of the month Jay Berkes

Procrastination is usually pretty fun.

That’s what I was thinking this morning when I was riding through the hills outside of Beer Sheva on one of the many mountain bike trails that surround the city. I should have been studying for the upcoming microbiology quiz. Or the upcoming histology quiz. Or the upcoming immunology quiz. I probably should reviewed gluconeogenesis for biochemistry, and I definitely should have looked back over my notes on recombinant DNA technologies for molecular biology.

But, procrastination is fun, so I kept riding. And after our two week break for the Jewish High Holidays, I’ve rediscovered the importance of little vacations like that.

Nitzanim Beach Weekend

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When you imagine your own personal getaway, the one in the forest, or on the beach, or in the city you’ve always wanted to visit, you do it for the solitude. Your own kind of solitude. You might do it for peace and quiet, or you might just do it for the difference that isn’t in a daily grind. It’s a grass-is-always greener thing, and it’s usually hyperbole. But hyperbole, like procrastination, is fun.

For me, solitude used to be the promise of efficiency; a window of opportunity. “If I can just get away, I’ll finally catch up.” It’s probably why I spent three weeks in a cabin in the mountains of southern Colorado studying for the MCAT. Or why I regularly spent my summers during college 1200 miles away from home…sorry, 1931.21 kilometers away from home. It might even be why I moved to Israel to attend medical school. But my break from school over the last couple of weeks has helped me understand what I really need out of little vacations.

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As one of the many non-Jewish students at MSIH, with no previous links to Israel, this is my first time experiencing the High Holidays. In the days leading up to our break they were explained to me as a new year celebration in September (Rosh Hashanah), a day where no one eats or drives (Yom Kippur), and a week where everyone eats their meals in little wooden dwellings outside of their houses (Sukkot).

After being welcomed with open arms into a Jewish household for a Rosh Hashanah feast, talking with new Israeli friends about the importance of self-reflection during Yom Kippur, and seeing little beautifully constructed huts pop up throughout my neighborhood I began to get a little more perspective on the traditional undercurrent of the High Holidays. Specifically, the concept of teshuva (תשובה), which literally means “return.” In respect to the High Holidays it means repentance, and the ten days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are especially focused on teshuva.

I’d never heard the word before a couple weeks ago, and I’m still a little fuzzy on the details, but I understood it as a kind of returning to your original nature, or refocusing on your real self. Personally, I’m no longer a practicing member of any religion, so I applied this idea of returning to your original nature and refocusing on your real self to the primary religion in my life: med school.

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Mountain biking north of Beer Sheva

Moving to a new country is jarring. So is starting professional school. Put the two together, and it’s easy to get overwhelmed. Our first 6 weeks included an accelerated emergency medicine course, hours upon hours of studying Hebrew, being introduced or reintroduced to some heavy scientific topics, and the many tedious details of securing housing, utilities, groceries, and school supplies. Throughout those 6 weeks, the holiday break became more and more of grass-is-greener type of window of opportunity; a promise to catch up on the growing list of “things to review.” By the time the break arrived, though, that list had grown so long that it became its own source of stress. I was overwhelmed with class, and I was overwhelmed with break…Until this concept of returning or refocusing started weaving its way through my mind…On one bike ride it reminded me of how inspiring the desert scenery is around Beer Sheva. On one hike it reminded me of how the challenges of medical school are easily trumped by the excitement of learning. And when I shadowed one of the orthopedic physician assistants in the emergency department it reminded of how rewarding patient interactions are.

Nico and Raphy duking it out in Krav Maga.

My true nature, and my real self, is the reason I came to medical school. Whenever the stressors get too great and I begin to lose sight of that reality, I’ll just need to make use of little vacations to help me return to that reality. Whether that means doing an extra Krav Maga session with my classmates, camping out on the beach for a weekend, or taking the occasional nap, I know that returning to my original self will help check things off my list much more effectively than worrying about how long it’s gotten. And I have my first High Holidays to thank.

My new golden rule for the next four years: Plan to Procrastinate.