"Life is change. Growth is optional. Choose wisely."

Sitting in my cozy Syracuse dorm room I look back to last summer at the Ivy League Torah Study Program like a dream. Like Alice in Wonderland, my experience there enabled me to look at the world through a different dimension and to assert myself against nonsensical parodies of moral verse. I tackled Judaism and my Jewish identity, moving away from secular reality to a wider, unknown world of collective unconscious.

Surrounded by wonderful faculty, counselors, and friends, I lived in a bungalow colony in the Catskill Mountains away from New York City's scorchers. Without prior Jewish education, the first intensive classes and lectures seemed overwhelming.

I remember how I listened to discourses in Chasidic philosophy. I felt the urge to dash out of the room into the fresh air, to jump and run non-stop to full exhaustion. Only due to tolerance, acceptance, and the unconditional care and patience of my instructors, I took one big step forward. I realized that my experience in Ivy League would be to a large extent what I myself make it.

Mark Twain once said, "Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too, can become great." In Ivy League the instructors believed in their students. They presented lessons with sparkles and smiles, adding personal anecdotes, amazing stories, and controversial arguments to stir our interest. They allowed cookies and endless questions, often delaying the end of classes. When it came to "rest," they had extra time to shmooz with us all night long. Although we talked practically about anything at night meetings, every moment was loaded with intense Torah study. Every down to earth conversation had special meaning or insight that taught us a life-long lesson.

One of the lessons I brought home from Ivy League is that only those who risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go. Every day was an adventure. We loved the nigunim (wordless Chasidic melodies), Chumash, and reading Hebrew in the program. We climbed trees, went canoeing, played pool, and ate blueberries at icy Cave Mountain in between classes.

We enjoyed ice-cream in the nearby town or swam in the pool as bats flew above our heads at night. And, most importantly, we all felt Jewish and felt good. We learned to be confident and sure that we are privileged to be Jewish. It was funny to hear that the most basic unit of Judaism is a Jew.

But after all, this is the fact. We are all part of the game whether we want it or not.

Before attending Ivy League, I thought that the program would mark both the beginning and end of my Jewish education. At the time I didn't know that we do not know a millionth of one percent of anything. Weeks of effort to read Jewish texts, to learn prayers in Hebrew, and to play soccer in our long skirts paid off.

I noticed that the more I learned about my Jewish heritage, the less I knew. My learning was intensive. Yet, I felt more ignorant than ever. I thought Ivy League would be a crash course titled: "Everything you need to know about Judaism" or "Full guide to Judaism for Dummies." Luckily, it was not. Ivy League introduced us to the broad fascinating world of Jewish thought. The beauty of our birthright, the essential part of our human education, opened before us. We were shocked at what we were missing.

No, there is no pat ending to my story. There is only the beginning. I did not become "Orthodox" at Ivy League. But, I celebrate my Jewish identity in my own way. When I do homework, I take a short break to call "Dial-A-Jewish-Story" to hear words of inspiration. After my part-time job on campus, I come to Hillel for Shabbat services and friendly dinners. Over winter break I went on a trip to Israel through the Birthright Israel program.

I live and I learn. I learn and I live. I believe that doing more things faster is no substitute for doing the right things.

So, I am on Jewish time. I do things slowly, but I hope I do them right. A week ago, I learned that the "Sholom Alechem" song welcomes the Shabbat angels. I have known the song for years, but had no idea about its significance. Ivy League Torah Study challenged my ideas, and achieved success. Today, there is a long-range planning page in my diary planner reminding me "to expand my Jewish education."

For more information about ILTSP, call (718) 735-0200, (800) 33-NCFJE, or visit http://www.iltsp.org/