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and of the free, home of the brave. As my options in Israel narrowed and died, America, the setting for enjoyable summers, became my new home.
I grabbed any opportunity I could to integrate, landing myself in an American camp. BUR (British Unspoken Rule) 4: If you are unfortunate enough to have an inner child, keep it hidden. Here in camp, silly songs, food fights, and getting thrown in the lake, fast loosened the vestiges of my British reserve. As I worked to establish myself in this new country I had one amazing thing on my side — a new group of friends.
My best friend was definitely Advil. I was in a new country, I was a regular independent adult and I had a life to live. Without a doctor who knew my history, I deluded myself into thinking I could finally live just like everyone else. I allowed checkups and medical concerns to slide, used Advil to quiet any pain, and stayed high on what felt like freedom.
Years before, I had resolved never to be a teacher — I refused to do the model lesson in seminary and therefore flunked the education module. Naturally, after failing to succeed as a party planner’s assistant, I was offered a job as a teacher. At my interview, the principal laid out the conditions of the job: “We have one student who spends most of the day running the hallways. She can’t even stay in our special-ed classroom. If you can get her into a room with you for half an hour, you have a job.” I connected with Dina, my very special student — who looked perfect on the outside, but had many scars hidden inside, and I spent the rest of the year learning from her.
