Journal #1 continued...

After writing my first post, and taking a small blog/study break, I came back to talk a little bit more about my experiences both living my story and writing it. I enjoyed writing my first blog post and sharing with my classmates my life-changing summer experience. As soon as I read the prompt for journal entry #1, I knew exactly what to write about with no hesitation. I believe my writing poses both similarities and differences to Hampl. Unlike Hampl, I felt as if I do not need to fictionalize certain aspects of the story to make it seem continuous. But also like Hampl, I used voice in my story, and tried to portray myself as a mature writer. My trip to Israel is the perfect way to describe an event or time in my life where I changed for the better.

Haylee

Identity, Identity. (JOURNAL #1)

The bell rang and the students at my high school sped off campus to begin their summer vacation. The seniors cheered, and the juniors were so excited they had finished their hardest school year. But I wasn’t spending my summer like most other teenagers in Dallas. I was going somewhere meaningful and holy where I had something in common with everything else. We were all Jewish. I woke up on June 14 at 5:30 a.m to the sound of my mom’s excitement. At the airport, we said our goodbyes and were off to the Promised Land, Israel. I would be joining 30 other teens from across the U.S where we would be spending our days learning about the past of Israel, but one day in particular stood out from the rest of the trip.  I jumped off the bus into a small village where the buildings were old, the village poor and the people looked tired and hungry. We had arrived at the Israel Ethiopian Immigration Center.

 At first, I was a little taken back.  I have grown up with religious grandparents, so the modest attire and hebrew language was nothing new, but what was unusual was that these parents and children had dark skin. We split up into small groups and we were each told to sit at a table. I took a seat next to Adina, a four-year old Ethiopian girl who has been born and raised in Israel. For hours, we sang songs, played games, and made arts and craft projects. That afternoon I helped Adina use a glue stick and cut with scissors, but she helped me see a part of Israel I wasn’t expecting. Looking around at this village, these children, and the environment they lived in reminded me to feel thankful for everything  I had back home in Texas. It made me feel like a better person, and friend with a more grateful identity.