"You Don't Measure a Candle in Kilowatts" or, "About the Greenhouse"

A hydroponics system

Our time at the greenhouse is about to end, and if we don't now have an idea of what it is about, we never will.
We arrived over three weeks ago, entirely unsure of what to expect. Yet, even expecting the unexpected, we were surprised. Beyond pure culture shock, the greenhouse is unlike anything we have ever seen. It's unique in its existence.
The first thing impressed upon us was the incredibly outgoing hospitality of everyone here, both in the greenhouse and the kibbutz at large. In a day, we must have been asked seven times if we were okay, if we needed anything, if everything was comfortable. Several others offered their assistance should we need it.

The Greenhouse Lab, where students can learn about
laboratory science and experiments are conducted on algae

The second thing we took in was the greenhouse's appearance. It's absolutely beautiful. Everything about it is open. Its ceilings stretch higher than most, the tallest reaching perhaps thirty feet in the air. There are a ridiculous number of exits and entrances, several vast holes in the ceiling to let in the rain, and a variety of smaller "doors", too small for humans, but just the right size for the cats to run in and out. Few walls enclose the separate parts.
There's also always something awake and moving. During the day, the loudest noise is that of people talking, or of someone building in the shop area. If you're in the computer lab, perhaps it's the buzz of the 3D printers. At night, when all else is silent, the hydroponics systems hum with the sound of running water, for anyone who is awake to listen.

A dog! Whose name I can't spell!
But it's pronounced kinda like "gooey"

But the best part of all, I think, is the light. Nothing can compare to the feeling of sunlight. Nothing feels more free, or happy. Everywhere in the greenhouse, there is light coming in through the ceiling.
So a day was all it took, to understand the structure of the greenhouse, and a bit about its people. But what took us longer to understand was the nature of the greenhouse itself: the underlying tenets that constitute its backbone.

...

Recently, we sat down with its founder, Avital Geva. Through various interpreters, he told us about the formation of the greenhouse over time, and what drove him to create it.

A kitty!

Forty years ago, he wanted to build something new for the Ein Shemer, something that linked agriculture to the spirits of learning and innovation. Rather that being driven by profit, he wanted a place where creation happened for the sake of creation, without any corporate end in mind. This place was the greenhouse.
Avital was an artist, and a stubborn one at that. He had a vision in his head and he was determined to make it happen. It took a great deal of arguing with the kibbutz to be given permission to build. They finally agreed on a year's usage of the land, and he commenced his creation. Eighty families came together to help build (the greenhouse was never a project that could be undertaken by a single man), and in that first year they not only build the original greenhouse, but were able to grow its first plants. For the next thirty years, he said, he kept asking for "just one more year", and they kept granting it. He would add on to the outside-- which explains its somewhat disjoint appearance-- and when he could go no further horizontally, he began to build up.
Now, the greenhouse is a massive structure, full of people doing exactly what Avital had once hoped. The projects they build are random and vast and aim to change the world.

...

"You don't measure a candle in kilowatts." Many times in our conversation with Avital, this came up. It's an interesting idea to try to convey. To him, the greenhouse, and the inventions that form inside, are candles. They are made to help the world. To illuminate it. And these ideas can't be measured by their outputs, often because their outputs can't be measured. What they do may be purely subjective. It's far less important that the ideas do something measurable, than that they do something beneficial.

...

Openness: The greenhouse strives to incorporate people of all backgrounds, and they are constantly using learning as a medium to bring kids together. Many people here are proponents of inclusiveness with the Arabs, and there are several classes taught in Arabic, for Arab students.

The greenhouse workshop area

Innovation: Every student has an opportunity to build something new and different. When some ideas are wildly impractical, the teachers help steer them to something manageable, but challenging, then provide guidance as the students work toward their final goal.
Excitement to learn: Rather than lecture-style learning, which frankly is the most boring thing since boiled cauliflower, the teachers have discussions and arguments with their students, occasionally culminating in an accidental full-class debate, as every student lapses into conversation with someone else.
These are the traits of the greenhouse. Most students here have that "change the world" mentality, and everything that the greenhouse is helps foster this feeling. Kids learn, rather than being taught, and they build as they grow. We're quite happy to have been here for the month of January, and we'll miss this place.
HamamaLlamas out.