An Israeli-American Perspective: Growing Up in Two Worlds

By Shahar Masori

SAN DIEGO — I can still recall the dusty playgrounds of the Givat Olga neighborhood of Hadera, Israel, where the Mediterranean breeze blended with the shouts of children at play. It was an old-fashioned playground, just steel, sand, and imagination. Located right next to our school and near the ocean and sand dunes, it was pure fun. After school, we would just hang out, literally. No adults were involved; there was no planning or coordination between parents, no playdate arrangements—we were just kids being kids. We ran, played, broke things, and often got slightly hurt. As I said, pure fun 😊.

Those early years in Israel, from preschool through my early teens, were shaped by a unique blend of independence, community, and a deep connection to our surroundings. The rhythm of our days was set by the school bell and the hum of local life—a far cry from the structured, often insulated, childhoods I would observe later while raising my own kids in the United States.

My childhood was marked by a sense of freedom that seemed woven into the fabric of society. We were still a very young country, with no shortage of issues. However, as kids, we were, in a sense, and perhaps by design, shielded from the reality. From a young age, we were encouraged to explore. We walked to school on our own and navigated our little world with a level of autonomy that might surprise American parents. The concept of a “helicopter parent” was almost nonexistent. This freedom instilled in us a sense of responsibility and resilience very early on.

The celebration of Shavuot illustrates the communal spirit of my youth. We planned for weeks and on that day, the whole neighborhood came out, throwing smelly eggs and water on one another—lots and lots of water. To this day, I am not entirely certain why we did that, but it was so much fun I never cared to ask 😉. Children and adults all acted silly, simply enjoying being together. It was truly magical. And don’t even get me started on “La’g Ba’omer”—that involved months of preparation and was always an all-night party kind of thing.

This communal approach extended to the classroom as well, where students were encouraged to help one another, fostering a strong sense of camaraderie and mutual support. The Israeli education system, while rigorous, also valued experiential learning, allowing children to develop a practical understanding of their world alongside their academic studies. Even with limited resources, we were involved, curious, and often very creative. Less definitely meant more.

In contrast, American childhoods ttended to be more structured and protective. From preschool onward, there was a clear emphasis on individual achievement and preparation for the future. Parents were heavily involved in every aspect of their children’s lives, from homework to extracurricular activities. The pace of life was faster, the schedules more packed, and playdates were often pre-arranged and supervised, reflecting a cultural norm that prioritized safety and achievement over self-exploration.

I remember my first interaction with hosting a playdate. I didn’t quite get the concept yet. It was in the cul-de-sac where my children were raised. Most neighbors had kids, and for me, it was very strange that none were playing together outside every day. So, I decided to do something about it. I opened my garage door, placed tables and chairs out in the front yard with lots of food and drinks, and got several electric toy cars. In a matter of minutes, all of the kids and parents came together and played until dark. It became a routine and more of a daily thing after that. I, for one, was very happy about that.

In the U.S., fostering independence takes a different form—one that is closely guided and monitored by adults. Children are encouraged to excel academically and participate in activities that will enhance their personal growth and future prospects. This structured approach, while beneficial in many ways, can sometimes limit the free play and exploration that were so integral to my own childhood in Israel.

Despite these differences, I’ve observed that children in both countries share a universal trait: a boundless curiosity and a desire to understand the world around them. In Israel, this curiosity was often channeled into learning about the land, its history, and the diverse cultures that make up the country. The connection to the land of Israel was deep, with children learning about its significance from an early age. Field trips to historical sites, nature reserves, and national parks were common, reinforcing this deep sense of connection.

In the United States, curiosity often takes a more individualistic form, with children encouraged to explore their own interests and passions. The abundance of resources—whether it’s libraries, electronics, games, museums, or after-school programs—provides ample opportunities for children to dive deep into subjects that fascinate them. This focus on personal development can lead to a strong sense of self and a clear understanding of one’s unique strengths and abilities.

As my sons navigated their childhoods in San Diego, I found myself reflecting on these cultural differences. I wanted them to experience the freedom and community I had known in Israel, while also benefiting from the opportunities and resources available to them in the United States. It was a balancing act, finding ways to integrate the best of both worlds into their upbringing.

Looking back, I realize that the contrasts between childhoods in Israel and the U.S. are not just about geography or culture—they’re about different approaches to life itself. In Israel, childhood is a time of communal experiences and a deep connection to the land, while in the U.S., it is often a more individualistic journey, with an emphasis on personal achievement and safety. Yet, in both places, childhood is a time of wonder, growth, discovery and perception development.

As I watch my sons grow into young men, I see the blend of these influences shaping who they are. They carry with them the resilience and communal spirit of Israel, along with the ambition and individuality nurtured in the United States. And as they forge their own paths, I hope they hold on to the lessons learned from both cultures, finding strength in their roots while embracing the opportunities of their present with a focus on the future.

So, here’s to the next generation, growing up in a world that is more interconnected than ever. May they draw from the richness of their diverse backgrounds, weaving together the threads of different cultures to create a tapestry that is uniquely their own.
*

Shahar Masori was raised in Hadera, Israel, and immigrated to San Diego in 2000, where he helped build a balloon decor business and raised two sons.