Musings from a Not-So-Master Teacher

"It's a sun," a girl explains without offering even a concise explanation for her metaphor of the Palestinian-Israeli Conflict.

"I'm not sure I'm seeing the connection," I prod carefully, placing the blame on myself rather than suggesting that she might not understand the concept of metaphor.

"It's like this. The sun devours everything. It feeds on itself, with each explosion causing fuel for another bigger one. Until some day it will all die out and with it we'll lose our light. And I figured that made sense, because light is a metaphor for religion and Israel is the place for most of the world's religion. I don't think the violence will end until civilization ends."

I walk to another group where they are discussing the metaphors. "It's like two three year olds fighting for no reason. They both want a toy and they don't realize there's enough for everyone."

"No, I don't think so. I think they want to get along, but they just can't. My metaphor was that they're a family. The parents are the people who want peace, but they fight no matter how hard they try and it's to the point that the kids even start to believe that life would be better if they would just kid dad out of the house. I think the Palestinians are the drunk dad who won't leave the house."

It's difficult during this to figure out when and how to step in - when to confront stereotypes, when to turn them over on themselves, when to ask questions and when to simply listen. I've heard that kids this age don't think abstractly, yet I am surprised by the depth of the metaphors.

One kids compares it to gang violence fighting over territory and colors. Another says it's like salad dressing and no matter how much they shake things up the two sides can't get along. Still, he holds hope. "If they would just let the peace process happen they'd realize that they're better off together than sepearate." A boy suggests that they are like cats and dogs who "can't" get along unless they are raised together, but that the youngest generation has to be the solution.

When we discuss it as a whole class, a girl explains that it is like a shirt with a stain and America is trying their hardest to clean up the stain. However, our best intentions have just rubbed the small stain all over the whole shirt and ruined it. A boy suggests it might be worse, "No, it's more like a fire fighter who thinks he's spraying water, but the hose is really just filled with gasoline."