We are excited to share that based on the latest Avant Hebrew assessment, a remarkable 42 MILTON students were awarded the Global Seal of Biliteracy. This award is given in recognition of students who attained a functional fluency in Hebrew, a designation given to students who earned a proficiency level of Intermediate mid-5 or higher on all four skill areas of the Avant assessment.
Finding Ourselves at a Key Moment in Jewish History: Observing יום השפה העברית/Hebrew Language Day Post-October 7th
אנחנו בעיצומו של רכע מכריע בהיסטוריה היהודית:
חגיגת יום השפה העברית – אחרי ה-7 באוקטובר
“שני הדברים שבלעדיהם לא יהיו היהודים לעם: הארץ והלשון.”
-אליעזר בן יהודה
כשאליעזר בן יהודה אמר דברים אלו, הוא היה חלק מהפרויקט הלאומי היהודי הרחב שפעל הן להקמת למדינה יהודית ריבונית והן להחייאת השפה העברית. אלו היו שני מרכיבים הכרחיים כדי לאפשר לעם היהודי “לחזור לתוך ההיסטוריה” כעם שהוא שחקן פעיל בהיסטוריה של עצמו במקום שההיסטוריה “תפעל עליו מעצמה”. כשאנו חוגגים את יום השפה העברית הנערך מדי שנה ביום הולדתו של בן יהודה, איש ששיחק תפקיד משמעותי בהחייאת השפה העברית המודרנית, ראוי לציין עד כמה החזון הזה הוא לא פחות נכון עבורנו היום, במיוחד לאור הטרגדיה הנוראה של ה-7 באוקטובר ותוצאותיה.
בן יהודה ועמיתיו חוו באופן אישי את מה שקרה כאשר לעמנו חסרו מאפייני הריבונות: ארץ, צבא, ודגל, וכן שפה ותרבות שהוכרו כשוות לאלו של עמים אחרים. הם היו עדים לאנטישמיות מקומית וממוסדת, לשנאת היהדות, לפוגרומים אכזריים, ועוד, מבלי שעדיין הבינו את ההיקף של העתיד לבוא באירופה באמצע המאה ה-20.
למרבה המזל, הפתרון שהם הציעו הכין את העם שלנו להגיב ל-7 באוקטובר באופן שונה בתכלית ממה שחווינו במאות ה-19 וה-20. המלחמה עדיין בעיצומה בישראל ולא ברור עדיין האם תתממש האפשרות שהיא תתרחב. אנטישמיות ושנאת ישראל ממשיכות להרים את ראשן המרושע ברחבי צפון אמריקה ומעבר. אבל בשונה מהתקופה בה פעלו אליעזר בן יהודה, בני דורו, וקודמיהם אשר החיו את השפה העברית, עמנו כבר לא חסר אונים. בתוך ישראל, לעם שלנו יש כוח רב בדמות מדינה ריבונית, שלה צבא חזק מלא בחיילים מסורים ומיומנים, כולל בני שלי, שגויס באותו יום אוקטובר נוראי ומאז נמצא בעזה וסביבתה. לעם שלנו יש גם כוח נוסף – הכוח הנובע מעמידה האיתנה של עמנו ברחבי תבל, והכוח הנובע מהעבודה הקריטית שלוקחים על עצמם מורי העברית מדי יום.
הציטוט של בן יהודה בפתיח מציב את הארץ ואת השפה במרכז הלאומיות שלנו. צה”ל ואזרחי ישראל, הנתמכים בסולידריות עולמית של העם היהודי, עושים את העבודה החיונית של הגנה על הארץ, על העם ועל החברה בגבולותיה. אנו מצדיעים למחנכי השפה העברית הממלאים תפקיד חיוני בהבטחת המרכזיות של העברית, הבטחת הדור הבא של יהודים המוכנים לבנות מטרה משותפת עם דוברי עברית בישראל ומחוצה לה.
באופן אישי, ומקצועי, אני כועס עמוקות על מה שהאויבים שלנו מנסים לעשות לנו. באותה מידה אני מקבל השראה מהאופן שבו הגיב השטח המקצועי שלנו. מורי עברית בבתי ספר יהודיים, בישיבות, במחנות יהודים, בבתי כנסת, ובמסגרות נוספות, ביחד עם הצוות המדהים של עברית במרכז ועמיתינו בתחום השפה העברית, כולם מחויבים לקידום הוראת השפה העברית לחיזוק הישגי התלמידים, להבטחת מסוגלות עצמית והצלחה של המורים, ולמילוי ההבטחה שמבטיחים מוסדות החינוך להורים, לקהילה, ולעתיד היהודי שלהם. אנו שמחים במיוחד למלא תפקיד של מנהיגי שטח כדי לטפח ולקדם רעיונות חדשים וגישות חדשות אשר יתרמו עוד יותר למשימה הקדושה הזו. זוהי עבודה שמחזקת ומדגישה את המטרה והגורל המשותפים שלנו כעם.
בנוסף, אני קורא לכל אלו המאמינים במטרה להיות פעילים יותר בדרישה למצוינות ולאחריות מהעובדים בשטח, ולתרום מזמנם, נכסיהם, ומשאביהם הכספיים כדי להפוך משימה זו למציאות. אנו בעברית במרכז מקווים שהיום החשוב הזה בלוח השנה העברי ימשיך לעלות בחשיבותו, ושבשיתוף פעולה, נוכל להבטיח קהילה עברית אוריינית פעילה. באותה מידה בה כולנו נהנים מהמתנה שהעניקו לנו בן יהודה ועמיתיו, אנו מקווים שגם אתם תתרמו למשימה קדושה זו.
אני מודה לצוות ולעמיתינו, למנהיגי בתי הספר, ולתומכינו, על כך שאפשרו לנו להניח עוד לבנה בבסיס לעתיד חזק עוד יותר שמשחרר את העוצמה של העברית.
בהכרת תודה,
הרב ד”ר אנדרו ארגז, מנכ”ל
עברית במרכז
“שני הדברים שבלעדיהם לא יהיו היהודים לעם: הארץ והלשון.”
“There are two things without which the Jews will not be a nation –
their land and their language.”
– Eliezer Ben Yehuda
When Eliezer Ben Yehuda made this statement, he was working as a part of the broader Jewish national project to bring about both a sovereign Jewish state and a revitalization of the Jewish language. These were two necessary elements to allow the Jewish people to “step back into history” as a people that would now once again be actors in history rather than have history “act upon them.” As we celebrate יום השפה העברית/Hebrew Language Day, held each year on Ben Yehuda’s birthday, an individual who played an oversized roll in making Modern Hebrew language return to its role as a living tongue, it is worth noting how this vision is no less true for us today, especially in light of the horrific tragedy of October 7th and its aftermath.
Ben Yehuda and his peers had personally experienced what happened when our people lacked the instruments of sovereignty: a land, an army, and a flag, as well as a language and culture that was recognized as equal to those of other people. They had witnessed both individual and state-sponsored antisemitism, anti-Judaism hatred, brutal pogroms, and more, not yet realizing the scale of what was to come in Europe in the mid-20th Century.
Thankfully their proposed remedy prepared our people to respond to October 7th in a manner fundamentally different than the experiences we endured in the 19th and 20th Century. The war is still unfolding in Israel and the possibility that it could expand is still not clear. Antisemitism and hatred of Israel continues to raise its evil head throughout North America and beyond. But unlike the period that birthed Eliezer Ben Yehuda and his generation and predecessors that revived the Hebrew language, our people are no longer powerless. Within Israel, our people have hard power in the form of a sovereign state with a powerful army filled with deeply dedicated and capable soldiers, including my own son who was called up that horrible October day and has been in and around Gaza since. Our people also have soft power – the power that comes from our people standing together as one throughout the globe and the power that comes from the critical work Hebrew educators undertake each day.
Ben Yehuda’s quote above places both land and language at the center of our nationhood. The IDF and the citizens of Israel, supported by global solidarity from the Jewish people, are doing the essential work to defend the land and the people and society within its borders. We salute Hebrew language educators around the globe who are playing an essential role in bringing about the difficult and still incomplete task of elevating the primacy of Hebrew in our communities and ensuring the next generation of Jews become equipped to build and maintain a common destiny with Hebrew speakers in Israel and beyond.
While I am personally and professionally profoundly angered by what our enemies are trying to do to us, I am equally inspired by how our field has responded. Hebrew educators in day schools, yeshivot, Jewish camps, congregations, and in other settings, along with the amazing team at Hebrew at the Center and our colleagues in the Hebrew language space, are all committed to advancing Hebrew language education to strengthen student outcomes, ensure teacher self-efficacy and success, and fulfill the promise educational institutions make to their parents, their community, and the Jewish future. We are particularly pleased to play a role as field leaders to cultivate and advance new ideas and approaches that will further contribute to this sacred mission. This is work that is reinvigorating our shared purpose and destiny as a people.
I also call on those who believe in the cause to become more active in demanding excellence and accountability to those working in the trenches, and to contribute their time, reputational assets, and financial resources to making this mission a reality. We at Hebrew at the Center hope that this important day in the Jewish calendar will continue to rise in prominence and that by working together, we can ensure a more Hebraically literate community. In the same way that we all benefit from the gift Ben Yehuda and his peers brought to the table, we hope you will contribute your gifts to this sacred task.
I thank our team and colleagues, school leaders, and our supporters for enabling us to build yet another brick in the foundation for an even stronger future that unleashes the potency of Hebrew.
In gratitude,
Rabbi Andrew Ergas, EdD, CEO
Hebrew at the Center
This Week, Millions of Jews Will Not Understand the Words They Are Saying
Wonder Woman and the second gentleman are getting ready to do it.
Chuck Schumer and Drake will most certainly do it.
Isaac Herzog, Judy Blume, and Nachama Skolnik Moskowitz cannot wait to do it.
I, and likely you, will probably do it as well.
We are all getting ready for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, preparing ourselves once again to read, sing and make heart-felt declarations in Hebrew. And for far too many, there is little to no understanding of those words coming out of our mouths.
So, is understanding Hebrew truly even important to the future of the Jewish world?
Hebrew is certainly important as a connector of world Jewry. I am not the only person surfacing questions about Hebrew. There is a Stand With Us YouTube of Elon Gold’s currently making the rounds where the comedian asks, “Have you ever wondered why most Jews don’t actually speak Hebrew?”. Beyond the humorous but biting critique of his own experience as both a student and a parent of a Hebrew language education, Gold rightfully notes that these Jewish educational settings focus too much on what we are not supposed to do and not enough on teaching the actual language of Hebrew. He then brings home the real message: “It is so crazy to know laws and not be able to communicate with my people in our homeland.” If we want to be real partners with global Jewry and capable of having a sophisticated conversation about the Jewish future with Israelis, we must ensure we are competent speakers of the Jewish people’s language.
Hebrew is certainly important to our experience of our holy days. Whether sharing a simple “Shana Tova,” or chanting aloud from the machzor throughout the yamim nora’im, the High Holidays reflect a moment when we look to the future and when most North American Jews encounter and use Hebrew as the language of their people. Like the blast of the shofar, the use of our sacred tongue between family and friends or within a congregation creates the soundscape of these holy days as our people wrestle with powerful word concepts such as t’shuva and slicha. And in our culture, every day has the power to be holy, an ordinary day that can and should be set aside for extra-ordinary actions and transcendence.
Hebrew is certainly important to Jewish education. On the short list of well-known Jews that opened this piece, the name Nachama Skolnik Moskowitz was included both due to the tremendous work she has been doing over the arc of her career in Jewish education and due to the important essay she shared last week in eJewish Philanthropy, Hebrew learning in synagogues: A call for change. Moskowitz rightly challenges our congregations and our community to rethink how we introduce children to their sacred language, drawing both from historical approaches and research-based insights on how someone learns to read and engage with a language. She is correct to critique a tradition that is ineffective and counter-productive, knowing that this leads to too many turning away from finding the beauty and spirituality in Jewish worship. Breaking one’s teeth over a language that can elevate and penetrate is bad for young Jews, for the Jewish future, and most definitely for Hebrew. And if we are failing in congregational schools, the first step in most young people’s Jewish educational journey, we are bequeathing to the next generation nothing but a future of more Jews reciting Hebrew words they do not understand.
Hebrew is certainly important as a tool for leadership. One of the entities that consolidated into Prizmah was Ravsak, boldly stated, “Our client is the Jewish future.” Fifteen years ago, Hebrew at the Center was founded in reaction to a call to action similar to Moskowitz’s in the Jewish day school world where, as one of our long-time supporters quipped, “In no place is more time and money spent not teaching Hebrew than in Jewish day schools.” We understood we needed to be disruptive in our approach, drawing from language learning science, a deep commitment to training Hebrew speakers to become Hebrew language instructors, and the establishment of proficiency standards and assessment systems that could ensure data-driven instruction. However, as important as pedagogic and programmatic interventions are, we know that fundamental work must be done in creating a culture of seriousness and commitment to Hebrew learning on the part of parents, school leaders, and the community. Given the high percentage of Jewish communal leaders that come out of the day school world, it would be a tragedy to continue wasting the hours being spent on Hebrew language instruction without ensuring that we were seeing a true return on this investment of time.
Hebrew is certainly important – because Hebrew is important! The Hebrew language is fundamental to Judaism, Jewish culture, and identity. Hebrew is a shared inheritance and tool that transcends the diversity of theological and ideological differences during a time of growing fractures. Hebrew is a living bridge that connects global Jewry and opens access to our sacred text and contemporary Israeli film, television, and literature. And in this particular moment when Israelis are wrestling the fundamental dilemmas of building a Jewish and democratic state, Hebrew language provides opportunity for the rest of the Jewish family to be able to have an insider’s understanding of what is taking place rather than remaining dependent upon translated OpEds, news articles, and demonstration placards.
On Rosh Hashanah, a new year begins and the opportunity for us to individually and collectively be written in the book of life is renewed again, creating the opportunity for us to both improve ourselves and ensure our future. We believe that the revolution that Nachama is calling for in congregational and part-time schools, our efforts in day schools and summer camps, and the critical work our field colleagues are doing in these settings and more demand communal attention, finding ways to unleash the power of Hebrew in North America. Together, we can ensure that the largest Jewish community outside of Israel does not give up its commitment, ownership, and love of the Jewish language.
While we can forgive and be forgiven throughout the year, something we will be reminded about during these upcoming days, we will not be forgiven for not taking this message about Hebrew seriously, only to bemoan ongoing Hebrew illiteracy in the future. We can make a difference in the level of Jewish literacy, offer a point of unity to a fractured people, and reverse the expanding gap between Israel and us. Our tradition teaches that sha’arei t’shuva, the gates of repentance, are always open. Let us use this moment to reflect on what we can do to better Hebrew language education and repent our misguided way, collectively stepping through the gates of Hebrew. We will soon read in the Torah that our world was created through speech, and we know humans make meaning through language. Let us pick up Nachama’s gauntlet and respond to Elon’s taunt, launching a strategic and collective effort to strengthen the ability of the members of our community to feel truly at home in Hebrew. As we use Hebrew words to pray for ourselves and our community, let us pray for true understanding and then take a big step towards change.
Rabbi Andrew Ergas is the Chief Executive Officer of Hebrew at the Center, with its vision of a world in which the Hebrew language profoundly enhances the joy and richness of Jewish identity and connects Jewish communities around the world. The organization works to revolutionize Hebrew language education and engagement as it advocates for Hebrew as a more prominent and intentional feature of Jewish life.
The Language of Protest – Accessing Insight Through the Hebrew Language
by Dr. Jeremy Benstein
Trying to follow the ups and downs of Israeli politics is hard enough at the best of times. And these are hardly the best of times. The rift in the nation is deep, pitting supporters of the democratically elected government and its projected legislation to redress perceived imbalances, against opponents who see that legislation as changing some very basic rules of the game thus making Israel a demonstrably less democratic society. My task here is not to adjudicate this dispute (though, like most Israelis, I do have strong opinions on the topic); readers who want explicit political punditry are directed to the news sources of their choice.
Rather, I would like to explore some particular Hebrew terms in the current political discourse that may shed some light on the nuances of recent developments. Of the many reasons for acquiring familiarity with Hebrew, one main one is to try to gain more insight into Israeli life and culture than is normally afforded by exclusively English-language media. For instance, the differences between the two sides are apparent from the get-go, i.e., the words each camp uses regarding what’s going on. The government claims it is promoting a רפורמה משפטית reformah mishpatit, “a legal reform” (from משפט mishpat, law). This indeed sounds innocent enough, and quite legal and on the up-and-up. But in the eyes of the millions who oppose the government plan, this is nothing less than a הפיכה משטרית hafichah mishtarit – משטר mishtar meaning “regime” and הפיכה haficha, meaning “coup”, from ה-פ-כ h-f-ch, reverse, or backwards (see here for more on that Hebrew root in politics and elsewhere).
Perhaps ironically, the two main words that are seen on t-shirts and signs, and heard at demonstrations and government press conferences, are actually not (originally) Hebrew at all: דמוקרטיה demokratiya and דיקטטורה diktatura, words which need no translation. One could claim that since the terms are non-Hebrew, the ideas themselves are foreign as well. However, the idea of the limited will of the majority with safeguards for the rights of the weak is well-established in Jewish tradition (see e.g. Ex 23:2). There is a (modern) Hebrew word for dictatorship (רודנות, rodanut, רודן, rodan, “dictator”, from the Biblical root ר-ד-ה, r-d-h, “rule over,” see e.g. Gen 1:28 and Lev 25:53), though it is less used in common parlance. And Eliezer Ben Yehudah himself proposed a new coinage to replace democracy, עַמּוֹנוּת amonut (from עם, ‘am, “people”), but it never made it out of the starting gate.
Here are a few more key terms to help parse the debate:
רוב – מיעוט – Rov, “majority” from the root ר-ב-ב, r-b-b, as in הרבה, harbeh, “many, a lot.” This is what the coalition (קואליציה, koalitziya) claims they have, since they do, after all, hold 64 out of the 120 seats in the Knesset (53%). However, protesters and members of the opposition (אופוזיציה, oppozitziya), by definition in the מיעוט, mi’ut, “minority” (from מ-ע-ט, m-‘-t, “few, a little”) point out that the proposed reforms were not central planks in the parties in the coalition (and the ruling Likud party, with only 32 seats is not a majority in its own coalition), and currently polls show a clear majority of the Israeli public oppose the controversial legislation.
In brief, the main issue under discussion is a proposed change in the balance of power between the judiciary (הרשות השופטת, hareshut hashofetet, literally – “the judging authority”) and the executive/legislative branches (הרשות המבצעת והרשות המחוקקת, hamevatza’at vehamechokeket) , giving more power to the latter, and reducing the scope of judicial review (among many other things, including changing the selection process of judges, the question of legal oversight in government ministries, and more). Confronting these proposals have made these last six months quite a civics lesson for many Israelis, for it gets to the heart of what a democratic society is. In response to claims of government supporters that it is the protests themselves that are undemocratic (since the government was elected it has a right, and a duty, to govern as it sees fit – majority rule – the רוב, rov), the protesters emphasize that a democracy is the rule of the majority coupled with strong safeguards that protect the rights of the minority (מיעוט, mi’ut), to prevent the rule of the majority from becoming a dictatorship of the majority. The claim is that for Israel with no constitution or bill of rights (as in the US), or long tradition of a democratic culture (as in the UK), a strong and independent judiciary is the only thing standing in the way of an ideological government – whether right-wing or left-wing – from enacting legislation that might infringe on basic rights. The word for rights is זכויות, zechuyot, as in זכויות אזרח, zechuyot ezrach, “civil rights” and זכויות אדם, zechuyot adam, “human rights.” An interesting curiosity is that zechut also means “privilege” which is almost the opposite of a right, making it a contranym, a word that means a thing and its opposite, like “sanction” or “cleave.”
סבירות – sevirut, “reasonableness.” This seemingly innocuous idea is the basis of the first piece of government legislation: preventing the courts from using “reasonableness” as a criterion for adjudicating issues like government policies or appointments. But what could be unreasonable, or objectionable about reasonableness?
First the word. If something is סביר savir, it is reasonable, makes sense. This root has many expressions in Hebrew, both ancient and modern:להסביר , lehasbir, “explain” (make understandable), הסברה, hasbara, Israeli governmental PR (“explanation” in the sense of “making the case for”), סבירות, svirut, “likelihood,” and also, traditionally, סברה, sevara, a (talmudic) claim or opinion, and סברי, savri, as in סברי מרנן, savri maranan, “with the gentlemen’s permission,” asked before making a public blessing over wine.
Traditionally, the Supreme court has used עילת הסבירות, ‘ilat hasvirut, the reasonability clause, to evaluate whether the government or its several ministries are being, well, reasonable. But given the less than precise definition of this term, the government’s claim is that the gut sense of reasonableness of a group of unelected officials, such as judges, should not take precedence over the sense of the democratically elected parliament. The opposition’s response is that this is what checks and balances (איזונים ובלמים, izunim ublamim) between the branches is all about, and the greater the majority, the greater the temptation to wield power in all sorts of fundamentally self-serving ways, if there is no one to stop them. Which would be, in a word, unreasonable.
There is of course much more that can be said and explored, both linguistically and politically. I will conclude with a section of Israel’s מגילת העצמאות, megillat ha’atzma-ut, Declaration of Independence. The Hebrew word for independence, עצמאות, ‘atzma-ut, from a root ע-צ-מ, ‘-tz’m, meaning “strength” and also “self” was coined by Eliezer Ben Yehudah’s son, Itamar Ben Avi. The fact that the word עצם, ‘etzem, also means “bone,” alludes to Ezekiel’s vision of the valley of the dry bones (Ch. 37) as a prophecy of revival and return. Like the flag, the Declaration is used by the protesters to express their values. But also like the flag – can’t we all identify with what is written here?
מתוך מגילת העצמאות – מדינת ישראל…תשקוד על פיתוח הארץ לטובת כל תושביה; תהא מושתתה על יסודות החירות, הצדק והשלום לאור חזונם של נביאי ישראל; תקיים שויון זכויות חברתי ומדיני גמור לכל אזרחיה בלי הבדל דת, גזע ומין; תבטיח חופש דת, מצפון, לשון, חינוך ותרבות...
From the Declaration of Independence – THE STATE OF ISRAEL … will foster the development of the country for the benefit of all its inhabitants; it will be based on freedom, justice and peace as envisaged by the prophets of Israel; it will ensure complete equality of social and political rights to all its inhabitants irrespective of religion, race or sex; it will guarantee freedom of religion, conscience, language, education and culture….
At the very least, words like חירות, cherut, “freedom,” צדק, tzedek, “justice,” שלום, shalom, “peace,” שויון, shivyon, “equality,” and חופש, chofesh, (more) “freedom,” are good words to add to our vocabulary.
Dr. Jeremy Benstein is a senior consultant at HATC and author of Hebrew Roots, Jewish Routes: A Tribal Language in a Global World, (Behrman, 2019).
TalentEducators: Data-Driven Professional Development for Hebrew Teachers
By: Aharoni Carmel and Yael Harari
The statistics for teachers leaving the field are shocking: between 30-50% of teachers in the US resign within the first five years. Research has also indicated that the right professional development and mentoring can reduce this attrition rate significantly. That said, a one-size-fits-all approach to professional development has proven to be highly ineffective.
For this reason, at TalentEducators, after we match and place teachers in new positions, we place emphasis and resources on highly professional and personalized support for each of our newly recruited teachers. To do this, we work with the educational institution as well as the educator to build a comprehensive support plan that includes programs from many wonderful partner organizations that offer professional development. This support plan looks different for different teachers even if they are teaching the same subject – such as Hebrew – at the same school.
In our experience, there are two specific challenges that need to be addressed when supporting new Hebrew teachers in their positions: the skills involved in teaching a second language and the cultural gap that many non-native North Americans experience when teaching in a day school for the first time.
In the past two years, we placed 59 Hebrew teachers in day schools in North America and the UK. These Hebrew teachers have required different support plans depending on the school requirements, and the teacher’s education and experience:
- Hebrew at the Center bootcamp. Hebrew at the Center offers a three day bootcamp for new Hebrew teachers. In the last two years, 16 of our North American teachers have attended this bootcamp, preparing them for the first days of school.
- One-on-one mentoring. All of our fellows have individual mentors who meet with them once a week to coach them through pedagogical approaches as well to address on the ground issues. Many of our mentors are independent though some are through organizations such as BetterLesson, JNTP, and Hebrew at the Center.
- Curriculum support. For schools that follow a specific curriculum, we fund our fellows participation in iTalam, B’shvil HaIvrit, and Ulpan Or professional development sessions during the summer and throughout the year.
- Graduate degrees. For teachers who are looking for both practical pedagogy as well as academic rigor, we have funded several of our fellows MA degrees as Middlebury College in Teaching Hebrew as a Second Language.
- Cohort. We bring our Hebrew teachers together as a cohort to share best practices, ask questions, and create a community of new Hebrew teachers. This cohort has been run by Hebrew at the Center in the past and is now run by a TE staff member who is a veteran Hebrew teacher.
In order to measure the efficacy and success of these teachers as well as the support TalentEducators provides them, we conduct surveys twice a year. Our survey results reveal that these educators’ satisfaction in their positions as well as their administrators’ approval rate is higher than that of other new teachers. On a scale of 1-5, the employers rated their satisfaction with their Hebrew teachers’ work at 4.5, as opposed to an approval rate of 3.9 for other new teachers. In addition, all of the Hebrew teachers felt that their mentors positively impacted their teaching, rating the impact as a 4.6 out of 5. More than 80% of these Hebrew teachers are still in their original position (surpassing the average retention rate even amidst the Great Resignation), and the few who have left have either moved to a new location or have been given expanded responsibilities.
During the course of this work, one of the major challenges that we encounter when working with new Hebrew teachers is the reluctance of day schools to hire teachers with little to no teaching experience. The administration worries that the cultural gap combined with inexperience will ultimately lead to failure. In our experience, focusing on potential while creating a comprehensive personalized support plan can lead to greater satisfaction and retention. There is still a significant shortage of teachers, and specifically Hebrew teachers, however, if there is a mindset shift in addition to personalized professional development and mentoring, perhaps we can slowly bridge the gap.
Aharoni Carmel is the founding CEO of TalentEducators and a veteran principal of educational institutions both in Israel and the US with over twenty years of experience in the field of education.
Yael Harari is the Chief Operating Officer of TalentEducators and has more than fifteen years of experience in the field of education: as a teacher of literature and language and as a teacher-mentor in American Jewish schools and in Israeli mechinot.
Our Big Fat Greek Chanukah by Dr. Jeremy Benstein, HATC Senior Advisor
Elections And Politics – Hebrew Style
By Dr. Jeremy Benstein
The Choosing People
Both the Israeli and American publics are going to the polls this month, to take part in that supreme ritual of democracy – elections. The word for “elections” in Hebrew is bechirot, from b-ch-r (בחר), “choose.” We are able to choose our representatives because politically we have zechut bechira (זכות בחירה), “the right to vote.” Some might argue that even more fundamental is the belief in bechira chofshit (בחירה חופשית), “free choice” (or “free will”).
While a mivchar (מבחר) is simply a “range” or “selection,” something nivchar (נבחר) is “chosen” or “select.” For example, the nivcharim (נבחרים) are “those chosen to represent,” for instance in Knesset; and a nivcheret (נבחרת) is an “all-star team” in sports.
In Israel, though, we vote for party lists, not individual candidates. This sounds more fun in English: it’s about parties! Here we have miflagot (מפלגות),“political parties,” from p-l-g (פלג), a root meaning “to divide, split.” The rabbis called the story of the Tower of Babel (Genesis 11) “Dor Hapelaga” (דור הפלגה), “the Generation of Division” (or divisiveness). In its own babbling way, with twenty-some-odd parties (and some are quite odd!) and the likes of Bibi and Benny, Yair and Yvet, Merav and Betzalel (and Ayman and Mansour), Israeli politics is indeed plagued by palganut (פלגנות), “disputes” and “divisions,” “fracas” and “fray.”
Affairs of city and state
But not all election related words are Hebrew in origin. For instance, the word “politics” itself, in Hebrew, politika (פּוֹלִיטִיקָה). Coming from the Greek for city, polis, it refers to running civic affairs. In Hebrew, it can appear in a number of forms: a politician is a politikai (פּוֹלִיטִיקָאִי), and if an issue or organization has become politicized, it has experienced politizatzia (פוליטיזציה). There was even once a political commentary television show called Popolitika (פופּוֹלִיטִיקָה), whose distinctive and very vociferous combination of politics and populism made it very, well, popular.
Another Greek contribution is demokratya (דֵמוֹקרָטִיָה). There is no single Hebrew word that means democracy, though it is usually defined or glossed as shilton ha’am (שלטות העם), “the rule of the people” (as in the Greek roots: demos, “people,” kratos, “rule”). Here, too, we see a variety of forms: there are states which are demokratyot (דמוקרטיות)(plural), and others undergoing demokratizatziya (דמוקרטיזציה).
In elections, the parties struggle for every seat in the Knesset, known as mandatim (מנדטים). This time from the Latin, a mandate is a commission or authorization (from manus and datum, “given over into the hand”), and elegantly expresses the idea of representative democracy – demokratya yitzugit (דמוקרטיה ייצוגית)– that the MKs are there because we sent them there: they are emissaries on our behalf.
Let’s make a (democratic) deal
Sometimes in order to wangle a place on a party list that is considered reali, that is, “realistic,” or likely to get in, a politician will need to wheel and deal, finagle or otherwise coax and cajole his – or her – way there. This may involve a promise of quid-pro-quo arrangements known in Hebrew as dilim (דילים) (“deals”). Though it’s all part of playing the political game, the shadier dilim may be, or become, quite scandalous. These are two more loan words you may be likely to read on the op-ed pages: intrigot (אִינְטרִיגות) and skandalim (סקנדלים). Even though skandal has a lovely Hebrew equivalent – sha’aruryah (שַׁעֲרוּרִיָה) – it has not been completely replaced.
Unite and rule
The ruling coalition of parties who form the government is called – what else? – the koalitziya (קוֹאָלִיצִיָה). Those not in the koalitziya from the opozitziya (קוֹאָלִיצִיָה), the opposition (whether loyal or not). These are examples of words for which the Hebrew Language Academy has proposed Hebrew equivalents, but which simply have not stuck. Impress your Israeli friends with the words yachdah (יחדה) and negdah (נגדה) which are the official Hebrew terms for “coalition” and “opposition,” respectively, from y-ch-d (יחד), “together” (see here), and n-g-d (נגד) “against, opposed.”
But despite all this, there’s more Hebrew than not in political palaver. The main ancient political institution that the State of Israel revived with its founding is the Knesset, taking its name from “the Great Assembly” (k-n-s (כנס)– “assemble”) of the first return to Zion from Persian times almost 2500 years ago. For a discussion of “Knesset” and related words, see here.
Going behind the curtain
To insure privacy in the voting process, we go into a booth behind a curtain, which is called a pargod (פַּרגוֹד). Coming into Hebrew from Greek back in Talmudic times, the pargod was a sort of metaphysical partition between humans and the deity, and hearing something from meachorei hapargod (מאחורי נפרגוד), “behind the curtain” (or screen) meant eavesdropping on God, hearing something from the heavenly sphere. More recently (1969-2005), the word began referring to a more theatrical curtain – for example, the Pargod club was an edgy fringe theater and jazz nightclub in Jerusalem.
But the cultic association continues in the voting process. While behind the curtain, we take one of the many slips of paper, representing the different parties, put it into an envelope and slip it into a slot of a big box – which is the kalpi (קַלפֵּי) (or kalfi). Also a Greek term from the rabbinic period, kalpi originally meant an urn for drawing lots, such as the lots to decide the fate of the two goat sacrifices on Yom Kippur. One was to be sacrificed on the altar, the other driven out to a place called Azazel (which has since become an epithet for “hell,” as in “go to…”) – becoming the original “scape-goat”. So, where our forebears removed slips of paper from the kalpi, we put ours in, but perhaps the result – choosing a scapegoat – isn’t all that different…
The some of its parts
Once the process is complete, the votes are tallied, and the mandatim are apportioned. The head of the party with the best chance of creating a coalition (usually the biggest party) will be approached by President Herzog, the nasi (נָשִׂיא) (another Biblical word) to engage in harkavat hamemshalah (הרכבת הממשלה), the process of “forming the government,” literally assembling it, using the same verb as putting together a puzzle.
The classical associations continue, for this is often known in the press as ma’aseh merkavah (מעשי המרכבה), meaning “the act of assembly,” but referencing a Jewish mystical concept meaning something like “the works of the chariot.” This is a theosophical doctrine, also stemming from the rabbinic period, based on Ezekiel’s vision of the divine throne or chariot (Ezekiel 1). Because this is indeed a complex mystical idea, colloquially, it has also come to mean “no easy feat.”
And indeed translating the will of the people (or the range of wills of the range of voters) and coming up with a group of people who can govern the country is exactly that.
Elections And Politics – Hebrew Style
Elections And Politics – Hebrew Style
By Dr. Jeremy Benstein
The Choosing People
Both the Israeli and American publics are going to the polls this month, to take part in that supreme ritual of democracy – elections. The word for “elections” in Hebrew is bechirot, from b-ch-r (בחר), “choose.” We are able to choose our representatives because politically we have zechut bechira (זכות בחירה), “the right to vote.” Some might argue that even more fundamental is the belief in bechira chofshit (בחירה חופשית), “free choice” (or “free will”).
While a mivchar (מבחר) is simply a “range” or “selection,” something nivchar (נבחר) is “chosen” or “select.” For example, the nivcharim (נבחרים) are “those chosen to represent,” for instance in Knesset; and a nivcheret (נבחרת) is an “all-star team” in sports.
In Israel, though, we vote for party lists, not individual candidates. This sounds more fun in English: it’s about parties! Here we have miflagot (מפלגות),“political parties,” from p-l-g (פלג), a root meaning “to divide, split.” The rabbis called the story of the Tower of Babel (Genesis 11) “Dor Hapelaga” (דור הפלגה), “the Generation of Division” (or divisiveness). In its own babbling way, with twenty-some-odd parties (and some are quite odd!) and the likes of Bibi and Benny, Yair and Yvet, Merav and Betzalel (and Ayman and Mansour), Israeli politics is indeed plagued by palganut (פלגנות), “disputes” and “divisions,” “fracas” and “fray.”
Affairs of city and state
But not all election related words are Hebrew in origin. For instance, the word “politics” itself, in Hebrew, politika (פּוֹלִיטִיקָה). Coming from the Greek for city, polis, it refers to running civic affairs. In Hebrew, it can appear in a number of forms: a politician is a politikai (פּוֹלִיטִיקָאִי), and if an issue or organization has become politicized, it has experienced politizatzia (פוליטיזציה). There was even once a political commentary television show called Popolitika (פופּוֹלִיטִיקָה), whose distinctive and very vociferous combination of politics and populism made it very, well, popular.
Another Greek contribution is demokratya (דֵמוֹקרָטִיָה). There is no single Hebrew word that means democracy, though it is usually defined or glossed as shilton ha’am (שלטות העם), “the rule of the people” (as in the Greek roots: demos, “people,” kratos, “rule”). Here, too, we see a variety of forms: there are states which are demokratyot (דמוקרטיות)(plural), and others undergoing demokratizatziya (דמוקרטיזציה).
In elections, the parties struggle for every seat in the Knesset, known as mandatim (מנדטים). This time from the Latin, a mandate is a commission or authorization (from manus and datum, “given over into the hand”), and elegantly expresses the idea of representative democracy – demokratya yitzugit (דמוקרטיה ייצוגית)– that the MKs are there because we sent them there: they are emissaries on our behalf.
Let’s make a (democratic) deal
Sometimes in order to wangle a place on a party list that is considered reali, that is, “realistic,” or likely to get in, a politician will need to wheel and deal, finagle or otherwise coax and cajole his – or her – way there. This may involve a promise of quid-pro-quo arrangements known in Hebrew as dilim (דילים) (“deals”). Though it’s all part of playing the political game, the shadier dilim may be, or become, quite scandalous. These are two more loan words you may be likely to read on the op-ed pages: intrigot (אִינְטרִיגות) and skandalim (סקנדלים). Even though skandal has a lovely Hebrew equivalent – sha’aruryah (שַׁעֲרוּרִיָה) – it has not been completely replaced.
Unite and rule
The ruling coalition of parties who form the government is called – what else? – the koalitziya (קוֹאָלִיצִיָה). Those not in the koalitziya from the opozitziya (קוֹאָלִיצִיָה), the opposition (whether loyal or not). These are examples of words for which the Hebrew Language Academy has proposed Hebrew equivalents, but which simply have not stuck. Impress your Israeli friends with the words yachdah (יחדה) and negdah (נגדה) which are the official Hebrew terms for “coalition” and “opposition,” respectively, from y-ch-d (יחד), “together” (see here), and n-g-d (נגד) “against, opposed.”
But despite all this, there’s more Hebrew than not in political palaver. The main ancient political institution that the State of Israel revived with its founding is the Knesset, taking its name from “the Great Assembly” (k-n-s (כנס)– “assemble”) of the first return to Zion from Persian times almost 2500 years ago. For a discussion of “Knesset” and related words, see here.
Going behind the curtain
To insure privacy in the voting process, we go into a booth behind a curtain, which is called a pargod (פַּרגוֹד). Coming into Hebrew from Greek back in Talmudic times, the pargod was a sort of metaphysical partition between humans and the deity, and hearing something from meachorei hapargod (מאחורי נפרגוד), “behind the curtain” (or screen) meant eavesdropping on God, hearing something from the heavenly sphere. More recently (1969-2005), the word began referring to a more theatrical curtain – for example, the Pargod club was an edgy fringe theater and jazz nightclub in Jerusalem.
But the cultic association continues in the voting process. While behind the curtain, we take one of the many slips of paper, representing the different parties, put it into an envelope and slip it into a slot of a big box – which is the kalpi (קַלפֵּי) (or kalfi). Also a Greek term from the rabbinic period, kalpi originally meant an urn for drawing lots, such as the lots to decide the fate of the two goat sacrifices on Yom Kippur. One was to be sacrificed on the altar, the other driven out to a place called Azazel (which has since become an epithet for “hell,” as in “go to…”) – becoming the original “scape-goat”. So, where our forebears removed slips of paper from the kalpi, we put ours in, but perhaps the result – choosing a scapegoat – isn’t all that different…
The some of its parts
Once the process is complete, the votes are tallied, and the mandatim are apportioned. The head of the party with the best chance of creating a coalition (usually the biggest party) will be approached by President Herzog, the nasi (נָשִׂיא) (another Biblical word) to engage in harkavat hamemshalah (הרכבת הממשלה), the process of “forming the government,” literally assembling it, using the same verb as putting together a puzzle.
The classical associations continue, for this is often known in the press as ma’aseh merkavah (מעשי המרכבה), meaning “the act of assembly,” but referencing a Jewish mystical concept meaning something like “the works of the chariot.” This is a theosophical doctrine, also stemming from the rabbinic period, based on Ezekiel’s vision of the divine throne or chariot (Ezekiel 1). Because this is indeed a complex mystical idea, colloquially, it has also come to mean “no easy feat.”
And indeed translating the will of the people (or the range of wills of the range of voters) and coming up with a group of people who can govern the country is exactly that.
Coffee And Politics, Or: From Cups To Coups
By Dr. Jeremy Benstein, HATC Senior Consultant
The favorite joke of one of my sons, when he was about four years old, went as follows (translated from the original Hebrew): “A man was walking along, fell into a hole, and couldn’t get out. ‘God,’ he prayed, ‘Make a miracle for me!’ God answered: ‘With sugar or without sugar?'”
Now, in order to get this joke, you have to understand that the word for “miracle” in Hebrew is nes, which also means “instant coffee.” So, if you ask someone to make you a nes, you’re more likely to get a cup of coffee than a miracle. Even from God.
Nes, by the way, is actually short for nescafe, which though the brand name of a type of coffee made by Nestle, is generic in Israel for “instant coffee.” The correct term for that light brown powder dissolved in hot water (which is hardly divine, by any standard) would be kafeh names, literally “dissolving coffee.” Compared to other types of coffee, this one (pronounced “nah’mess”), indeed involves less mess, and thus is somewhat miraculous.
Today Israel boasts world-class cafes in most cities and a burgeoning coffee culture, with a plethora of brews to fit every discerning palate. But once nes was one of a mere two types of Israeli coffee.
The other was a sort of Turkish coffee that, instead of being cooked on the stove, is simply mixed in water like nes. But since it is essentially unbrewed coffee grounds, the miraculous dissolution does not occur. This leaves a thick, black sludge at the bottom of the glass, which looks a lot like mud, or in Hebrew, botz, which became the name for this potent beverage usually served in small glass cups.
It’s not hard to imagine the chalutzim, Israeli pioneers, after a hearty mug of muddy botz in the morning, going out to drain the swamps — the bitzot, same root — whose black peat looked and probably smelled about the same.
Miracle or Mud?
These two types of coffee seemed to define the two poles of Israeli reality: miracle or mud. Roses or thorns, paragon or pariah: a country of extremes. And it’s no accident that these are opposites. For the third type of coffee, which came on the scene a little later, is kafeh hafuch, or simply hafuch, meaning “opposite,” or “reversed.” Or upside-down, or inside-out, or backwards – from the Hebrew word hafuch means all those things. More on that to follow.
In the case of coffee, though, it means something between a cappuccino and a latte (or café au lait) – a shot of espresso, with a lot of milk, and possibly some ketzef, whipped or steamed milk, depending on your taste. It’s not clear whether this is considered hafuch, backwards or reversed, because the hot milk is poured in first, and only then the coffee (not every barista would agree with that method), or simply because as opposed to nes, which is a lot of water and a little milk, this is the opposite. (While this coffee is usually not made at home, it is one of the most popular types ordered in cafes.)
Many claim that this is a unique Israeli blend, but it turns out that in the Netherlands something like this type of coffee exists and is called verkeerd,“incorrect” or “cockeyed,” not unlike hafuch. Who knows? Perhaps it was not only the Turks who influenced Israeli coffee culture, but the Dutch as well.
A revolutionary word
The root of the word hafuch is h-f-ch, which may not evoke the same symbolism as do “miracles” and “mud,” but is also central to Israeli culture and history. The very oscillation between the “roses” and the “thorns” is an indication that reality here is very hafachpach, a beautiful word that means “changeable,” “volatile,” or “erratic.” It is in a form that repeats the second syllable (“f” and “p” being alternates of the same medial letter) to make it a descriptor, and almost onomatopoeic at that: one can almost hear the flip-flop.
Probably the most well-known use of this root was by the legendary newscaster Haim Yavin, who broadcast the results of the election polls in the game-changing vote of 1977 when the Labor Party was ousted and the Likud, under the leadership of Menachem Begin, came to power for the first time in the history of the state.
To this day, Israel uses paper ballots, and so it can take many hours to get even preliminary results. That year was the first time public opinion surveys were conducted at the polling stations to get an indication of the results before the final count. When Yavin got the news that the polls showed Likud with a significant lead, he summed it up in a word: “Mahapach!,” a reversal, an upset, a sea change.
In saying this, Yavin meant that this was not nearly a mahapecha, a full-fledged “revolution.” And since it was achieved by democratic means, neither was it a haficha, a coup d’etat. But all of these words from h-f-ch signify different political developments that turn things, well, inside-out, upside-down, or backwards – at least relative to previous regimes or norms.
Even though the Starbucks chain famously failed in Israel, it seems that the global coffee culture is here to stay. One might say that this trend is not hafich, “reversible.” This form makes the verb “X” mean “X-able,” such as achil “edible”, from aleph-ch-l, “eat,” or kari, “legible,” from k-r-aleph, “read” or dalik, flammable, from d-l-k, “burn.”
But to someone who would claim that regime change or a bad political decision is irrevocable or irreversible, bilti hafich, we would say: lehefech! “Au contraire!” Hope springs eternal, and we have to believe that there’s still room for some surprising tahapuchot – turnarounds, changes of direction, though at times it may seem like this requires nothing short of a nes.
The Heat Of Summer – In Hebrew
Dr. Jeremy Benstein, HATC Senior Consultant
In Israel, we take our vacations very seriously. Even a short respite from work or school here is called a chufsha, from the root ch-f-sh, meaning “freedom” or “liberty.” We don’t just vacation, we escape bondage! Even more dramatically, the two-month summer break from school, which we are currently in the thick of, is called hachofesh hagadol – “The Great Freedom.”
We devote most of this chofesh, an alternative word for “vacation,” to finding ways to beat the “heat,” chom. When there’s a heat wave – gal chom – we look for galim, waves of a different sort down at the chof, “beach” (unrelated to the word for vacation).
Jerusalem, the holy city, ‘ir hakodesh, is landlocked and surrounded by hills. But coastal Tel Aviv has many beautiful beaches, making it the preeminent ‘ir shel chol – meaning both “city of sand” but also “secular city” (chol from chullin, means “secular” or “profane,” while another chol means “sand”).
The words for hot and cold have parallel forms. “Hot” is cham, “warm” is chamim and “heating” is chimum. “Cold” is kar, “cool” is karir, and “cooling” is kirur. You may be chilling drinks in the mekarer, the refrigerator. But when you drink them, please go easy on the environment, and don’t use cups made of that light-cooling stuff – kal, light, fluffy + kar, cold = kalkar, “styrofoam.”
Struggling to find time for a drink? Maybe the kids would enjoy some time at camp. There are two words for camp in Israel. “Overnight camp” – often organized by a youth movement – is a machaneh, also the word for a military encampment.
The root, ch-n-h, also gives us the contemporary word for ‘park’ – not the type where you would go camping, but what you do with your car, lehachnot, “to park,” and chanayah, “parking.” And what do you call going camping in Hebrew? La’asot kemping, of course. Go figure.
The other word for “camp,” usually used for the day camp variety, is kaytana. Since day camp is usually for small children, I used to assume the word had something to do with katan, “small.” But it turns out it’s from the Aramaic word for “summer,” kayta – kayitz in Hebrew – which also gives us kayit, a “recreational holiday.”
If you can’t ship your kids off to camp, you can all go for a dip at the pool. A pool is a bereicha, and while there probably is no linguistic connection, you may feel that on these long days in this ‘Great Freedom,’ the chofesh hagadol, there is no greater blessing, beracha, than that.
Can Computers Invent New Hebrew Words? AI meets the Akademiya, or: “Eliezer Bot Yehudah”
By Dr. Jeremy Benstein, HATC Senior Consultant
Like France and Spain, Israel has a national institution to guide language policy: the Academy of the Hebrew Language – האקדמיה ללשון העברית. One of the tasks it is charged with is coming up with good Hebrew equivalents for foreign words that have made their way into Israeli Hebrew from English or other tongues – known as lo’azit, all languages that are not Hebrew. For this task they have a special committee, composed of members of the Academy, along with representative writers, teachers and other language mavens. They also have started asking the public what they think about new ideas and suggestions for Hebrew neologisms (new words, coinages).
Indeed, in the end it is the public that will decide the fate of a new word, and sometimes it’s hard to predict what will catch on, and what will die an ignominious death of neglect. For instance, no Israeli would ever say kompyuter, since the universally accepted (Academy-coined) word is machshev (from the root ch-sh-v, meaning both think and compute). However, the Academy’s attempt at creating a Hebrew equivalent for telefon in sach-rachok (from words meaning ‘speak at a distance’) failed completely, and t-l-f-n has been accepted as a “Hebrew root,” and a person can even metalfen (call) someone else, though of course now that’s mostly on the nayad (portable), sometimes still called the cellulari.
This important mission of adapting the language to changing realities and needs has been basic since the beginning of bringing Hebrew back as a spoken language. (Actually, even before, since Hebrew in antiquity and the medieval eras also needed new words and concepts to deal with foreign novelties and changing times). One of Eliezer Ben Yehudah’s central tasks in his journalistic and lexicographical work was indeed to enrich the contemporary vocabulary – either with “repurposed” words from the sources, or with new coinages based on earlier roots, or borrowings from the closely related language of Arabic.
Neologizing, or creating a new Hebrew word requires several different skill sets and knowledge bases. A thorough grounding in general linguistics and the structure of the Hebrew language is essential. Familiarity with the different historical strata and classic texts of the language is up there too, but so is imagination and creativity, as well as a common touch, a more emotional intelligence about how words function in society, and what will actually “work.”
Given that, could this complex task be entrusted to a computer? Even with the amazing progress that machine learning and artificial intelligence have demonstrated recently (in everything from self-driving cars, to chat-bots that are almost human), could they acquire and apply the various skills necessary to come up with new Hebrew words?
The answer seems to be yes. Hebrew University computer science students Moran Mizrahi and Stav Yardeni Seelig (under the direction of Prof. Dafna Shahaf) undertook to design a program that can suggest neologisms that are at least as likely and potentially attractive as what the Academy serves up. This brief description is based on their work (see below for reference).
What did they do? They designed a process whereby they take an original English word, tease out its semantic components, translate those components into Hebrew, identify the equivalent roots, run those through a generator with the relevant mishkalim, the nominal or verbal forms that the roots are expressed in, and voilá – out comes a (potential) new word. One example they go into in depth is the word palette (a board artists use to mix colors). Israelis generally say paleta, though there does exist a rarely-used Academy-coined word p’techa (from a Talmudic root p-t-ch that meant “to mix”). The word palette connects to: color (צבע), mix (ערבב, ערבל), and board (לוח, קרש). There are several possible mishkalim, but the most relevant is maf’ela, which can be used for tools. So out comes matzbe’ah, and also ma’arbelah. The generator also will make up compound words – such as luach tzeva, a color board – and even “portmanteau words,” mushing two words into one, like kaduregel for “football” (kadur + regel) or ramzor for “traffic light” (remez + or). In this case the result was irbuluach, “a mixing board.” They then submit the ideas to a rating process done by actual humans, who grade each idea on three scales: suitability (as a Hebrew translation of the original idea); likability, and creativity.
Some words their generator came up with rated quite highly. For instance, Israelis use the word kapkeyk (ie cupcake) even though there is a “proper” word that has been proposed – עוגונית, oogonit, a diminutive of ‘ooga, “cake.” Their suggestion? גביעוגה, gevi’oogah, combining a word for cup gevi’a with cake, which may be a better proposal than the experts. And occasionally they come up with a whole list of possibilities. You’d think that an argumentative culture like Israel has a good word for debate, but most Israelis use that – dibeyt. The Academy has proposed ma’amat, from ‘imut, “confrontation.” But that has not been accepted at all. Their program suggests: sichuach (from sicha, conversation), pilmus (from the originally Greek pulmus, polemic or argument), krav diyun (a compound meaning “discussion battle”) and others.
Who knows? Maybe some day we will have a self-driving Academy.
Note:
The Hebrew essay Eliezer Bot Yehudah, by Moran Mizrahi and Stav Yardeni Seelig (under the direction of Prof. Dafna Shahaf) of the Hebrew University is a “popular” Hebrew language version of their academic paper, “Coming to Terms: Automatic Formation of Neologisms in Hebrew,” (published in Findings of the Association for Computational Linguistics: EMNLP 2020, pp. 4918–4929). The “bot” can be tried here.
