Teach children to be their own Internet filters

"For it's one, two, three strikes...never mind."

I learned may things about many things while a Jim Joseph Fellow at the Lookstein Institute for Jewish  Education in the Diaspora at Bar Ilan University. One of them is to "Listen to Dr. Eliezer Jones." He is usually funny and nearly always right. This past Sunday Orthodox Jews did what the New York Mets couldn't - they filled Citi Field. And they did it to hold a rally against the internet (the rally was advertised on the web, curiously. I dismissed the whole thing when I first heard about it as just another example of an insular part of the of the Jewish people becoming even more insular. Today, my friend Eliezer and a colleague of his from Yeshiva University made me think again. And again. They taught me something (more than one something). Let them tel it as published by the Jewish Telegraphic Agency...

By Eliezer Jones and David Pelcovitz · May 21, 2012

OPINION

NEW YORK (JTA) -- Tens of thousands of Jews filled Citi Field in Queens on Sunday and heard from haredi Orthodox leaders that the Internet should be avoided in the home at all costs and used sparingly at work, and then only with a filter blocking content that could be damaging spiritually.

Debate as you will what some may see as draconian edicts to protect the Jewish community from moral corruption. But at the heart of the matter is a question that should concern us all: How do we keep our children safe on the Internet?

We know that we cannot work around the Internet. Research from the Pew Foundation indicates that 54 percent of children say they go to Google first when they have a question, as opposed to only 26 percent who say they go to a parent and 3 percent to a teacher. Rather we must figure out how parents and teachers can make this important tool work safely and effectively for our kids.

The difficulty is that even the simple solutions are incredibly complicated. Powerful filters can block illicit images and material, but those filters often block out the good with the bad and limit far too much useful information. This solution has been discussed and debated on our own campus concerning Internet access in dormitories.

Some yeshivot have considered avoiding technology altogether and sticking with books and blackboards. But that would leave students without the digital competence required to succeed academically in college and beyond, not to mention that it would rob teachers of increasingly exciting and effective educational tools.

The only real answer is that as parents and teachers, we must instill in our children a strong value system based on Jewish morals and traditions that allows our children to become their own filters when exploring the Internet. That would be far more powerful than any protective software.

The onus is clearly on us because it seems that children will listen to our rules, at least when it comes to the Internet. Only three in 10 young people reported to a Kaiser Foundation survey that they are given clear rules about how much time they may spend using a computer, watching TV or playing video games. The average child with no rules spends more than three hours per day on such media. Those who are given rules spend considerably less time.

Yeshiva high school students said they would be receptive to rules. More than half of those surveyed by researcher Debbie Fox, director of the Aleinu Family Resource Center, a program of the Jewish Family Service of Los Angeles, said that they would welcome more guidance from parents regarding Internet use.

These same students, in fact, said that they would be far stricter with their own future adolescent children regarding responsible Internet use than their parents, and would monitor their children much more closely.

The dangers of the Internet are not limited to challenging content. A 2010 Kaiser Family Foundation study showed that about half of students in grades seven through 12 said they do their homework with media open that do not pertain to their task at hand. In other words, about 50 percent of middle and high school students are doing homework with divided attention. And while some kids may believe that they are being more efficient, multitasking has been proven in adults to cause higher levels of stress and lower levels of efficiency.

While some kids can multitask well, it's up to parents to actively determine if their children work more efficiently while doing so or while focusing on their work without interruption. Parents should collaborate with their children to test whether they are more efficient when not being interrupted or distracted, and then meter their background activity accordingly.

The greatest challenge of all, however, may be making sure that our kids completely separate from the Internet at times.  According to the Pew Foundation, 75 percent of American teens prefer texting to in-person contact with friends. Perhaps it's no coincidence that this generation's empathy levels among adolescents are significantly lower than those of previous generations.

It may seem that adolescents in every generation feel isolated and tuned out at some point or another. But it turns out that their computer habits may be compounding the problem. Parents need to teach children that some of their relationships must include direct face-to-face interaction without the distraction of text messages and cell phone calls.

While some of what occurred at Citi Field this past weekend might seem foreign, we must work to ensure that our students and our children can grow up as highly moral and successful Jewish digital citizens.

(Dr. Eliezer Jones is the educational technology specialist at Yeshiva University's Institute for University-School Partnership. Dr. David Pelcovitz is the Gwendolyn and Joseph Straus chair in psychology and Jewish education at YU's Azrieli Graduate School of Jewish Education and Administration. For more information about safe Internet rules and guidelines, visit www.yuschoolpartnership.org/parentguidedigitalage.)

Thought you might be interested in seeing.... "Advice for Jewish Professionals: What Every Grad Should Know" --Alumni pearls of wisdom posted on HUC-JIR Alumni Blog of Continuing Jewish Learning--Tzeh Ulimad.

http://elearning.huc.edu/wordpress/continuinged/?cat=172

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Enjoy!

10 New Year's Resolutions for Jewish Ed

"Arriving at one goal is the starting point to another."

- John Dewey

1. In 2012 I will model authentic learning for my students by learning alongside them.
   
2. In 2012 I will do my best to treat the questions, ideas, and insights of my students with the respect they deserve.
   
3. In 2012 I will open my heart to receiving feedback from students, parents, colleagues, and supervisors.
   
4. In 2012 I will demand of myself that I go the extra step(s) helping my students and peers mature and grow.
   
5. In 2012 I will break down the walls of my classroom so that the outside world can infiltrate with the hopes that my classroom will then transform the outside world.
   
6. In 2012 I will partner with students, parents, and fellow educators in a covenant of learning with the individual student at the center.
   
7. In 2012 I will champion the cause of Jewish education by demanding that Jewish studies be relevant, inspiring, nourishing, engaging, and joyful.
   
8. In 2012 I will sing, laugh, play, dance, and chill with my students.
   
9. In 2012 I will view the Jewish holidays through new eyes and with renewed energy.
   
10. In 2012 I will bring the fullness of my humanity into my work as a Jewish educator so that I might be more fully human (loving, caring, aware, thoughtful, passionate, intentional, reflective, kind) through my work as a Jewish educator.

 

Published online by Rabbi Micah Lapidus

When Tweeting Depletes: How Social Media Can Disconnect Us

The conversation continues courtesy of eJewishPhilanthropy (What? You still don;t subscribe? Shame!). Here I am, Mr. Digital Oleh, agreeing that digital is not the only solution. Maybe not even the best solution. Like a knife or a drill, it is a tool. We need to learn how to use it well and when to put it back in the virtual tool box and use other tools. Discuss...

When Tweeting Depletes:
How Social Media Can Disconnect Us

November 11, 2011

by Ami Hersh and Leor Shtull Leber

As people who barely remember a time before the Internet and who use Facebook (too) often to stay in touch with friends from around the world, we are not ignorant of the power of social media and technology in connecting people and ideas. However, we question the direction we are taking when we rely too heavily on technology and we fear the authenticity of our relationships when they are based on “@s” and “#s”

We admit we are guilty too. Once we were sitting around a table with friends, each of us on our own laptop. Somebody walked in and asked if he could join and do homework with us, and we awkwardly apologized that we were actually in a meeting – it just so happened that our meeting involved us all sitting in a circle in silence working collaboratively on the same Google doc.

Still, we use the word “guilty” because of the value of personal relationships with which we were raised. We both recently attended the JFNA General Assembly in Denver and were shocked to see the technology culture present and the (over)use of smartphones during sessions. We were encouraged to play with our phones instead of focusing on the speakers. People barely looked up – a great success according to the “Tweet! Tweet! Tweet!” message of the conference. What happened to turning off your phone for a lecture? Further, one of the winning innovative ideas at the Jewish Futures Conference called for the elimination of meetings: young people don’t want to waste their time meeting in person when smart phones can do the job.

Well, we are young people who have smart phones. We still cherish the face to face time of meetings in person – and look forward to disconnecting by turning off our phones during those meeting. Email and social media are important and effective tools, but we must be conscious of overuse and of replacing genuine in-person relationships, both when we are distant and even when we are together in the same room, by tweeting instead of talking.

As it says in Mishlei 27:19, “As water reflects face to face, so the heart of man to man.” The beauty of interpersonal relationships is the ability to look into the eyes of another human being and connect deeply with them through conversation and expression. As you stare into the eyes of another human being created b’tzelem Elohim, in the image of God, you are able to let their souls reflect and interact with your own. The whole world can open up before your eyes. Social media is spectacular, important, and quite useful when utilized in its proper time and place. Let us not however allow the over-presence of social media to dilute our in-person enduring relationships.

Ami Hersh is a senior rabbinical student at the Jewish Theological Seminary and the assistant director of Camp Ramah in Nyack. He can be reached at Ami@campramah.org

Leor Shtull Leber is a senior at Brown University concentrating in Cognitive Science and a Student Representative on the Brown RISD Hillel Board of Trustees. She can be reached at leor.shtull.leber@gmail.com

Connecting the Affiliated

My friend and colleague Arnie Samlan posted about a conversation he had with Beth Finger, who is working on a project called Jewish Without Walls. They suggest we "Forget about Jewish Affiliation, Think about Jewish Connectedness:"

"During our conversation this morning, we both challenged the relevance of "Jewish affiliation", which has been used in every Jewish demographic study as a measure of community success in modern America. The problem is, and has always been, that the operational definition of "affiliation" is often "pays dues to a synagogue". Even those who expand the definition someone, rarely get beyond handing money to an organization (JCC, Federation, Hillel) as the operational definition."

He explores several problems with using affiliation as a metric, including leaving our serious Jews who are "not religious," those for whom membership is of little if any value, and that it does not include significant numbers of Jews who relate to their Jewishness independently, including growing numbers who use social media to express their Jewishness.

He (with a nod to Beth Finger) suggests changing the metric to  "Jewish Connectedness." He would like Jewish sociologists to take into account the many ways of relating meaningfully to being Jewish. He wants to find a way to include serious Jewish paths that may not lead through a synagogue, federation or JCC. He includes summer camping and independent minyanim as well as those "who are doing Jewish in non-institutional spaces or in secular spaces, Jews connecting online in meaningful ways folks and who participate in Beth's Jewish Without Walls, in havurot and in other groupings that are not (yet) dues-based groups."

I think Arnie has the beginnings of an interesting framing of the conversation that we have all been having for a while. And while those who would overturn existing institutional frameworks might see this as invitation Occupy Organized Judaism, I see it as a refreshing way to begin talk about the apples and oranges in the same conversation. After all, Apple Jews and Orange Jews are still all Jews!

I would press the idea a bit further:

How can we in the synagogue world change the way we operate to increase the CI - Connectedness Index - for each member family and individual? While we in this world often do a lot to attract affiliation, we don't always (or even often) do a good enough job of connecting them to other adults in our congregations. We get them when they feel they need us (religious school, nursery school, Bar/Bat Mitzvah) but we don't always connect the adults in the family. So when the kids are ready to move on, the adults do as well.

Using the CI as a way to measure and improve what we do is as important as using it to find a meaningful category for non-Congregational connecting. I still like the word "affiliate" though. It makes me feel like we can use it to affirm that we obeying Hillel's dictum not to separate ourselves from the community.

Like Arnie, I am not the statistician to figure out how to count these things in the larger picture. I do know that in our synagogue and religious school, we have begun to focus on connecting parents. Our room parents now focus on getting parents together rather than doing the shopping or helping with the seder. (See article on page 6 Torah at the Center). I challenge you to share more ways of connecting the people who ARE affiliated! Because we need to raise the CI of all of our people!

Cross posted to Welcome to the Next Level

Gilad Shalit-A Teachable Moment

For close followers of Israel, such people, concepts and events as Yonatan Netanyahu, the Law of Return, the Balfour Declaration—even Sbarro and Dolphinarium—are quite well known. For the majority of non Jews and even Jews, however, they are quite foreign.

Today marks the one week anniversary of the release of Gilad Shalit. His release provides Jewish educators with an opportunity to initiate important discussions with our students, their parents, friends and neighbors. Nearly everybody has an opinion about the “fairness” of swapping Shalit for more than 1,000 Palestinians in Israeli jails. And this complex is worth discussing.

Shalit’s release seems to have left many wondering who are the “good guys” and “bad guys.” Who are these people who returned home to a hero’s welcome? How was an Israeli soldier “kidnapped?” Why do Israelis go in to the army in the first place, and for how long? Such questions point to one important fact--many people don’t know basic history—of Judaism, Zionism, of the Arab/Israeli conflict

Helping teach these “basics” is a fitting tribute to Gilad Shalit. And let’s commit to educating a few of our friends—before November 2nd. This date is the 94th anniversary of the Balfour Declaration of 1917--the famous letter from Arthur James Balfour, the British Foreign Secretary, to Baron Rothschild, a leader of the Jewish community. It contains a famous line which is useful in our work with our students:

“His Majesty's government view with favour the establishment in Palestine of a national home for the Jewish people, and will use their best endeavours to facilitate the achievement of this object, it being clearly understood that nothing shall be done which may prejudice the civil and religious rights of existing non-Jewish communities in Palestine, or the rights and political status enjoyed by Jews in any other country.”

In Praise of Rabbis and Cantors Who Are Willing To Think Out of the Box In Working With Children With Special Needs

When I started teaching Max, it was unclear if he’d even set foot in the synagogue on his bar mitzvah day. As his parents explain in this beautiful, moving video, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pIZU_AsOh5I, Max loves “Blues Clues” and is motivated by French fries. Aliyah l’torah and d’var torah were not likely to be part of Max’s bar mitzvah--we did not know at first what a Max bar mitzvah might look like. Max is a young man with autism and limited expressive language.

After several sessions working with Max in his home—singing songs, clapping, reading stories and putting “Blues Clues” on such objects as challah, candle sticks and a kipah, we began taking Max to his synagogue, Town and Village Synagogue in Manhattan, to meet with Cantor Shayna Postman. The synagogue had never celebrated the bar mitzvah of a boy with autism, but they were open to working with Max and his family.

Shayna knew of Max’s love of music and began playing guitar for and with Max. Max enjoyed looking at Shayna’s mouth as she sang—and he had a special pick for strumming on her guitar. Together, they sang the Shema. And played drums for Halelu. Little by little, it seemed Max just might celebrate his bar mitzvah in the shul.

On the Sunday of Chol Ha Moed Sukkot, Max entered the synagogue—with his IPad and headphone. He didn’t agree to wear a tie or jacket, but he did wear nice khaki pants, a white shirt and a kipah. The cantor welcomed the guests, and his parents told Max it was time to put away the Ipad. His family presented Max with a tallis, which he wore proudly. He carried a small torah, shook a lulav and etrog (for his Sunday of Sukkot bar mitzvah), and stood at the torah offering one word answers to the cantor’s question about things he loved (“mommy, daddy, music, French fries, baby sitter Stacy…”).

While Max did not say the Torah blessings, read from the Torah or deliver a d’var torah, Max truly became bar mitzvah that day. The cantor’s love for Max was obvious to the fifty guests in attendance. She bothered to get to know Max and appreciated Max’s abilities while also understanding his limitations.

Cantor Postman delivered a beautiful mi sheberach prayer for Max. My hope and prayer is that more rabbis and cantors will continue to create caring communities where the Max’s of this world will have a Jewish home.

This is a crazy inexplicable country

Photo of Gilad Shalit's helicopter
(he's in the one on the left)
taken by Lori Abramson
from her porch in Yokne'am

I thought about writing about Gilad Shalit's return yesterday, making this holiday a true Sukkat Shalom - if only for a moment. We had an amazing conversation in Confirmation class last night with our tenth graders. They were truly split on the issue of exchanging dangerous (potentially lethal) prisoners to bring one man home. They got how important it is for every parent to know that no price is too high to bring their children out of captivity. They also got how giving in to hostage takers may lead to more hostage taking and how releasing terrorists may lead to more deaths. They took sides. And they understood and were conflicted about the side they didn't take. They also understood that no matter their position, it was good that Gilad was finally home and alive.

Then I read this piece by Robbie Gringras on the Makom site. As usual, he is more eloquent than I could ever be. 

19/10/2011 | 12:21
Robbie Gringras 

We were driving home from Amirim when we saw them. Silhouetted against a dusky sky, two helicopters were climbing their way over the hills with the Mediterranean behind them. Who would have thought the sight of two ugly military helicopters flying north could make us whoop with delight and almost swerve off the road?

Gilad was on his way home.

We stopped in the local supermarket to do some pre-holiday shopping, but found ourselves drawn to the electronics section. There was a wall of plasma screens, all tuned to Channel 2, volume on full. As the live coverage showed the Shalit family clamber out of the now-parked helicopter and make their way home in convoy past the cheering people, we found we weren’t alone. Over forty people were crowded round the TV screens, their trolleys half-full, staring at the images as a grandparent might stare at the video of a grandchild’s first steps. 

We all shared snippets as we watched: how none of us had been able to get dressed in the morning, so fixated were we to the news; how frail yet indomitable Gilad had seemed in the Egyptian TV interview; how Iscar had continued paying Gilad’s father’s salary throughout his full-time campaign to free his son. 

 

Then we saw the family reach their house, shuffle through the singing crowds and the flying white flowers, and close the door behind them. Everyone breathed a sigh of satisfaction, wiped away the tears that had gathered or overflowed, and wheeled off back to the shopping.

And as I wandered in a daze round the vegetables and preserves, I jumped from thought to thought: 

1. This is a crazy inexplicable country. Strange wonderful things can happen here, though rarely because of strategy or logic. This place and this people is ruled by the heart, the spirit, and the soul. For good and for bad. It’s a ridiculous way to run a country, but we must work with what we have. Whenever we begin to talk about ‘logical solutions’ to conflicts in this region, or ‘mutual interests’, we must learn a lesson from this prisoner exchange. For sure politics and interests were involved, but the engine was more emotional and spiritual than rational.
   
   
2. How often in the past few decades has this country shed tears of happiness? I guess it is a rare thing for any country to elicit what is, generally speaking, a family kind of emotion. But tears of sadness, despair, and even rage flow in abundance here. Yesterday the tears were happy, and they were shed both by Israelis and by Palestinians.
   
   
3. We didn’t see much of the Palestinians’ celebrations. To see that you needed to switch to CNN or BBC, because Israeli TV wasn’t interested. I normally rail against this insularity, but not yesterday. The many families whose loved ones were blown to pieces by the same people hailed as released heroes in Gaza, did not need to have those images pushed in their faces. None of us did.
   
   
4. Which led me to wondering about this unique occurrence, a day when both Israelis and Palestinians are celebrating the same event. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything. If past experience is anything to go by, it probably will change little, but it’s worth noting nevertheless. Sometimes a light in the darkness is just a flash of a gun, but sometimes it can be a lighthouse, and sometimes it can signal the distant end of a tunnel.

Examining Your Educational Philosophy

This blog is cross-posted from jewishgps.wordpress.com.

Earlier today I facilitated a presentation for the national NFTY (North American Federation of Temple Youth), the youth affiliate of the Reform Movement. I had been asked to help their staff think about how educational philosophy is an important part of youth education planning. While many of their staff had – at one point – written educational philosophies, some had not and some hadn’t looked at them in a while. Others shared that they review it every year as a way to reflect on the prior year and to set the tone for the year ahead. We also discussed the importance of helping their teen leaders frame their roles as board members through the lens of Jewish educator – and therefore the need for the teens to start articulating their personal educational philosophies. At the end of the conversation, I shared my own educational philosophy. Writing it is an iterative process, so the version I share with you today might change based on tomorrow’s experiences.

I am wondering – how many of my colleagues have written/articulated educational philosophies? how many of my colleagues have shared their educational philosophies with their staff/colleagues/lay people/community partners? how many of my colleagues are congruent in their actions and their written philosophy? I invite you to share your educational philosophy in the comments section – perhaps inspiring others and perhaps as way for others to hold each of us accountable.

I am committed to experience-based and experiential education techniques–leveraging the text Na’aseh v’Nishma to convey the context. With pre-teen, teen and adult learners I champion for educators to serve as mentors/facilitators guiding learners to make their own educated conclusions about practice and thought; allowing the learner to personalize and own their Judaism because they understand the “why.” I believe in educating Jews to personal choice and meaning-making.

As the home is the primary indicator of adult Jewish identity, I believe in the power of Jewish family education. My goal is to help all Jewish professionals assess the way their organization and their education offerings help educate the entire family.

I believe in creating education opportunities where I can nurture people’s passions and develop multiple entry points that get people entrenched in community. The critical role that community plays in the learning environment is an essential aspect of any learning plan. I am committed to explicitly creating community as goal of all curricula.

My goal is to create an education system which enables Jews to make a shift to a “brit of faith” from a “brit of fate.” Ultimately developing a Jewish community where all Jews are actively “choosing Judaism;” are inspired to Jewish curiosity; expressing their identity in attitudes, skills, behaviors and knowledge; and viewing every aspect of their lives through a Jewish lens.

"And You Shall Teach Them Diligently To Your Children ... And To Yourselves."

This summer I met @Moosh2, an online friend. She was working at Crane Lake Camp while I was at Eisner Camp. Her name in RL is Marci Bellows the rabbi at Temple B'nai Torah in Wantagh, NY. She also writes a regular column inn the New York Jewish Week. We grew up in the same community and have a lot of friends in common, and yet we had never met!

When I saw this article, I thought it made some very important points in our ongoing discussion about what we should be doing in Jewish Education today. Let's discuss!

“When I was in junior high, and all my friends were having their Bar or Bat Mitzvahs (sic), I just enjoyed celebrating with them. It didn’t really occur to me that I wasn’t having one of my own. It wasn’t until college that I really began to regret it…” 

With these words, Jessica Yanow, my best friend since we were eight years old, began reflecting on her own Jewish upbringing and education. Growing up in Skokie, Illinois, it was impossible not to feel, at the very least, culturally Jewish. There was a bagel store in every strip mall, and a synagogue every few blocks. 

Jessica’s grandparents belonged to a Traditional synagogue, and they encouraged Jessica’s mother to enroll her in Sunday School there. Though the level of observance differed from what she was seeing at home, Jessica attended for a few years. When she was in second grade, her mother gave her a choice – she could keep attending Sunday School, or she could stop. Jessica explained, “At that age, I would guess that most children would choose not to go to any additional school. There was no discussion, as far as I can remember, with regards to later implications, like the fact that I wouldn’t have a Bat Mitzvah. So, of course, I said, ‘No, I don’t want to go to Sunday School.’” 

I cannot express how much this one story has affected my rabbinate. I often hear young parents wrestling over whether or not to “force” their children to attend religious school. Likewise, I hear students bemoan the fact that they are “stuck” going to religious school every week. And, yet, I inevitably share Jessica’s story with them all, for this reason: Now that she is an adult, she deeply regrets not attending religious school, not building her Jewish identity from a younger age, and not celebrating Bat Mitzvah at 13. 

Interestingly, and perhaps not consciously, Jessica found other ways of engaging in Judaism as a teen. Jessica was active in our local Kadima chapter in junior high, and then we were all board members of my temple’s Youth Group in high school. She took Hebrew as a foreign language at our public high school. She traveled to Israel during the summer before college, and then we both began our studies at Brandeis University (where feeling Jewish is unavoidable). 

Surrounded by Jews of all stripes, Jessica was now confronted by her lack of Jewish knowledge and personal connection to her heritage. For the first time, she truly regretted her decision to halt her religious education. Thus, she continued studying Hebrew, added three semesters of Yiddish, and read as many Jewish books as she could. 

Fast-forward to now, and she is living in Phoenix, married, and mother to an amazing four-year-old son (who calls me “Auntie Marci,” which makes me giggle ALL the time). She and her husband have chosen to send their son to a pre-school at a local Reform synagogue. She hopes that they will become more involved in the coming years, and perhaps she will study towards Adult Bat Mitzvah. I asked her how she feels now that she is the parent. 

She delights in spending every Friday morning at the preschool’s Tot Shabbat celebration. She loves learning more about the holidays alongside her son. She was pleasantly humbled when he came home one day, looked at the family’s dormant candlesticks, and asked, “Mommy, why don’t we light Shabbat candles on Friday nights?” 

Jessica is but one case, but she exemplifies so many adults in today’s Reform congregations. For a variety of reasons, we have men and women who feel detached, alienated, or lacking in some way. Some of these adults will never set foot in the temple except to send their kids to religious school and then leave as soon as their youngest child turns thirteen. 

However, others are longing for connection, and they wish desperately that someone would reach out to them. These folks may be intimidated by adult education offerings, fearful that their lack of learning will be a source of embarrassment. To all of these people, I say, you are welcome here! You belong here! You are a crucial part of the fabric of the Jewish community, and you needn’t be afraid! Jewish learning is possible throughout our entire lives, whether or not we started our learning when we were young. 

As adults, it is our job to model the importance of a strong Jewish education – not just by sending our children to religious school, but by finding ways to continually enhance our own understanding of Judaism. Imagine how little we would understand about the world if we had stopped our secular studies at age 13! This month, the Union for Reform Judaism is highlighting various ways of approaching Lifelong Jewish Learning, and I encourage you to look for inspiring ideas and topics on their website: http://urj.org/learning/. I’m sure that, with a bit of searching, you will find something that works for you. 

Oh, and, by the way, Jessica will not be giving her son a choice. He will go to religious school through Bar Mitzvah, at the very least. No doubt about it.

Cross-posted to Welcome to the Next Level.

Jewish Values at 41,000 Feet

I am writing this article from 41,000 feet, as I make my way to Connecticut to visit my mother, who is recovering from bypass surgery. Despite the high stress of the past two weeks, this experience has provided me the opportunity to consider anew what may be the most challenging of all the Ten Commandments to keep, the obligation to honor one's parents. It has also reminded me that teaching our children about Judaism is all the more powerful when it happens outside of the classroom.

"Honor your father and your mother; that your days may be long upon the land which the Lord your God gives you," is the fifth of the Ten Commandments (Exodus 20:12) It sits between the first four commandments, which are about our relationship with God, and the last five commandments, which instruct us on our relationship with others. It has been suggested that the commandment to honor one's parents serves as the bridge between these two types of relationships that the Torah demands of us. It has also been suggested that the reason we are offered a direct reward for fulfilling this obligation (most commandments have no reward connected to them) is because it is so difficult to be mindful of this expectation, either because we are young and lack self-control, or because as we mature we are unable to adjust to a new relationship with parents we first met as youngsters. Our rabbinic tradition, recognizing this struggle, reminds us of the importance of this mitzvah in the Talmud by relating that "when a person honors his father and his mother, the Holy One Blessed be God says, 'I view them as though I had dwelt among them and they had honored Me'" (Kiddushin 30b).

When my daughter asked me why I was leaving for a week to take care of my mother, I had an important opportunity to remind her of the Fifth Commandment and that family stands at the core of Jewish life. "That's a Jewish way to live," I explained to her from the front seat of the car, "we do whatever we can to care for those who are sick, that's the mitzvah of bikkur holim, and when the visit is to your parents, you are also doing the mitzvah of respecting people who have given everything to make you who you are."

Even if my daughter didn't understand everything that two minute exchange on Braeswood Boulevard was intended to convey, she did kiss me goodbye at Hobby Airport the following Sunday, and saw Jewish values in action as I waved goodbye. The week will be hard for my family, but I believe that she will gain something very powerful from the experience. My daughter saw me living my Judaism in real-time, and making tough choices to balance my responsibilities as a parent and as a child to my parents. I hope the experience becomes part of what fashions her Jewish identity.

Although I hope she never has to make this type of trip for me, I do believe that seeing her father board the plane teaches her that our family's Jewish values are part of the very fabric of who we are and the choices we make each day.

Reflecting on the Past Two Years

In just over a month the founding members of this blog will be completing their fellowship with the Lookstein Center at Bar Ilan University and the Jim Joseph Foundation to create online communities of practice (CoP) for Jewish educators.

We were part of the first cohort of this new initiative, and so high expectations for the programs success, coupled with the recognition that there would be a steep learning curve for the fellowship's implementation, went hand-in-hand over the past two years.

Without question, I have been transformed by this opportunity. The program asked me to consider both my leadership and management style. It forced me to think critically about many of the fundamental assumptions about how the Jewish community should work and how Jewish professionals need to prepare themselves for the digital age. It has pushed me to incorporate emerging technology into my professional work both in and outside the classroom. It has exposed me, with greater sensitivity, to the diversity of our Jewish community and its professionals. It has helped me to create a broader network of colleagues and introduced me to people, places, and ideas that were unfamiliar.

Over the course of the fellowship, I often became frustrated by the challenge of birthing my community of practice and encouraging other JCC colleagues to participate. Even now, participation is not what I envisioned and the CoP still has a far way to go to be the resource for the field I believe it can be.

As is typical of new ventures, the process is often more fulfilling than the first product. I can't show you what I would consider a successful CoP just yet but, give a few minutes, and I can share with you a powerful learning experience that is certain to change the way I serve the Jewish community forever.

I am indebted to both the program's creators Rabbi Shalom Berger and Esther Feldman, as well as the Jim Joseph Foundation, for their innovative thinking in developing this first-of-a-kind opportunity.

Thank You!

Access Israel

A scene from "Not By Bread Alone,"
a play performed by deaf and blind actors at Na Laga'at

Marc Rosenstein has been blogging from Israel for the Reform Movement for years in a blog called "Galilee Diary." Rabbi Rosenstein made aliyah to Moshav Shorashim, a small community in the central Galilee, founded in the early 1980's by a group of young American immigrants. He is presently the director of the Israeli Rabbinic Program of HUC-JIR, as well as the director of the Makom ba-Galil, a seminar center at Shorashim that engages in programming to foster pluralism and coexistence. His blog arrives in my inbox every Wednesday as part of the Union for Reform Judaism's 10 Minutes of Torah. 

The Jim Joseph Fellows visited Na Laga'at, which he discusses. If we have not been discussing the needs of learners who encounter the world in ways radically different from the majority, we are not doing our jobs.  Discuss. This is cross-posted from the URJ Blog and to Welcome to the Next Level.

"You shall not insult the deaf, or place a stumbling block before the blind. You shall you’re your God: I am the Lord."

-Leviticus 19:14

For years we had a subscription to the theater series at the Karmiel auditorium, which brought plays from the various repertory companies around the country. But we got bored with the selection a few years ago and decided to go it alone, and create an a la carte cultural schedule for ourselves. But long days and frequent evening meetings make it hard to keep up the resolve. We have been seeing more movies. And we just made our Second Annual Excursion to the Opera in Tel Aviv. The Tel Aviv Opera House is elegant and impressive.

On our way to a matinee of La Traviatta we went strolling in Jaffa port, an old area in the process of gentrification. One of the attractions there is the Na Laga'at ("please touch") Center which produces a play in which all the performers are blind and deaf, and offers a dinner served by blind waiters in complete darkness.

We stopped for brunch at their Kafe Kapish, where all the waiters are hard of hearing. There's a white-board and marker on each table. It was pleasant (and delicious), and brought to mind the large number of such enterprises one encounters scattered around the country: For example, Nagish Kafe (a pun on "we will serve" and "accessible") here in the Galilee, that employs persons with mental handicaps and illnesses, and the cafeteria at HUC in Jerusalem which is run by a similar foundation.

Then there is Lilith, a high-end gourmet restaurant in Tel Aviv whose kitchen staff are trainees placed by Elem, an organization working with marginal youth. Also, in addition to Na Laga'at, the Holon Children's Museum has both a "blind experience" involving a tour through a complex of different spaces, including a snack bar, in total darkness with a blind guide; and a parallel "deaf experience." The blind experience is so popular that reservations must be made months in advance.

In Old Acco one can shop at "The Shop for Meaning," run by young people with physical and sensory handicaps, for craft items made by the handicapped as well as various imported fair-trade products. Kivunim, the foundation that runs the shop, also operates a pre-army preparatory program for handicapped youth; we partnered with them last fall to operate a circus project for visually impaired Arab and Jewish teenagers. Maghar, an Arab village east of us, has a disproportionate population of deaf, due to in-clan marriages.

The answer of the director of the local community center? to host an international festival of theater of the deaf. A few miles away in Karmiel one encounters Alut-teva, a vacation village for families of autistic children, where they can relax in a setting where they are relieved of the tension and awkwardness that often beset such families on vacation in more public places.

And a particularly impressive story is that of Adi Altschuler, who, eight years ago when she was 16, was moved by her relationship with a neighbor with cerebral palsy to try to organize a mixed youth group of handicapped and "normal" kids. The project succeeded beyond her wildest expectations and today "Marshmallow Wings" is a national youth movement with chapters all over the country.

It has always been a source of some frustration that Israel, with its history of wars, and the ingathering of refugees, was not more conscious of the need for accessibility, and in general of the requirement to accept and integrate the handicapped. Perhaps our sensitivity was dulled by the strand in Israeli culture in its formative years that glorified strength and self-reliance, and was ashamed of helplessness and victimhood.

We still have many challenges in this regard. On the other hand, consciousness has risen a great deal in recent decades, and the number of heroes, both volunteer and professional, out there fighting on this front is really impressive, as is the creativity of their projects.

Summer Camps and Technology Go Hand in Hand

Once upon a time, Jewish summer camp was a place for beautiful Shabbat and Havdalah services, s’mores around a campfire, Shabbat-o-grams, and letters from home. Camps nowadays are all of this and more! You will be hard-pressed to find a summer camp without at least one climbing tower, outdoor adventures which include rappelling and cave exploration, experts coming for several days to teach everything from a capella singing to basketball to pastry baking. At my camp, Camp Ramah in New England, campers even have the opportunity to learn from an artist experienced in duct tape art!

And all camps have found creative ways to incorporate technology in to their daily operation. I remember “purists” ten years ago objecting to our wiring the camp for the internet. Now, security enabled wifi access points allow our 40 Israeli delegation members, our 20 Eastern European kitchen workers, and the other 140 staff members to be in touch with family, friends and the outside world.

We successfully walk a fine line: we do not allow campers to bring IPhones and other electronic gadgets to camp, but we use technology to communicate with camp families and to simplify their lives. Families register online, they send emails to their children which get printed out and delivered daily to their bunks. The director sends out a weekly d’var torah and updates from camp—with a spotlight on several notable events of the week. Families daily check the photo gallery to see pictures of their children—nicely arranged by division, and parents are informed of daily highlights by going to the camp blog. Today alone features news of the Amitzim (special needs program) talent show, the Machon etgar (15 year olds hiking and canoeing trip), the camp wide Six Flags trip, and the 14 year olds production in Hebrew of Alice in Wonderland.

Yes, technology in a Jewish summer camp has its limitations: rain storms bring the internet down, families come to expect more communication than we can offer, and more transparency leads to the occasional comment about: why is my son not smiling? (and the follow up, “doesn’t’ he have any friends?) Why is my daughter not in the bunk photo? (she was in the bathroom) or Why is my son (in the special needs camping program) putting tefillin on his left arm?—he is a lefty!

I’d like to think that Jewish summer camps will continue to find creative ways to use technology. Perhaps we will build on the already wonderful use nowadays--posting photos and blog entries, to the provision of year round on-line learning, video chatting on Jewish topics, discussion boards for parents, and more! Technology is empowering and has the potential to play a important role—year round—in the lives of Jewish summer camps.

Making Meaning Together

This will be in my synagogue's August bulletin. I submit it is an important lesson and invitation for all Jewish educational institutions.

Shabbas?!?

I had the very good fortune to join a group of fifty synagogue educators in the Leadership Institute in learning with Dr. Larry Hoffman, a professor at the Hebrew Union College in New York. His lesson was a titled Limits, Truth and the Anxious Search for Meaning: The Changing Rhetoric of Leadership. He described different ways Judaism functioned through history, using the observance of Shabbat as a lens.

He described the period from biblical times through the middle ages as the age of limits. Essentially, Judaism was focused on rules. We observed Shabbat because it was required. In the book of Exodus (31:13-17) we learned that violating the Sabbath could lead to death or worse. Halakhah (Jewish law) consisted of rules that defined how we functioned as members of the Jewish community. It worked for a long time.

The age of enlightenment at the beginning of the 19^th century brought something new. The freedom to be a part of the larger, non-Jewish world around us meant that the limits were not enough. We learned about how Jews in Salonika began hanging out in coffee houses on Shabbat. And what’s worse, they were ordering and paying for the coffee! Rabbi Hoffman described this as a symptom of a larger issue – namely that the game of limits was no longer working for a lot of Jews. Many Jews stopped believing that God would punish them.

The new game used the language of truth. We were in the age of Jeffersonian democracy, of liberty, equality and fraternity and of science uncovering all of the truths of the universe. Reform Judaism arose and introduced the sermon – an opportunity for rabbis to teach truth. We became the only Jews who rose for the Shema because it was the biggest truth in the service – and became known as “the watchword of our faith. There is much more to these concepts, but the exciting part comes next.

Rabbi Hoffman says that we are living in another revolutionary time right now. The game is changing from truth to one of meaning. Science has taught us that it cannot give us all of the truths in the universe. It tells us that our merely observing the world changes it.

The game of meaning means that we are interpreters of our world. Our task is to make meaning of the world and our experiences in it. We are active partners with God in the ongoing creation. We go back to Genesis and read that God created the universe and saw that it was good. God didn’t see limits or laws. God didn’t call it truth. God called it good. Rabbi Hoffman suggests that our role is to make it good.

We need to make up our our own life and worlds. It can be an overwhelming and daunting task. But if we believe that we have the freedom to try and develop the confidence to do it, we can create a beautiful and awesome reality. We are not interested in limits. Truths, he says are  a dime a dozen – you can find all you want on Wikipedia. We need to know that life is worthwhile. That we can make things better. That is what Judaism is all about.

The job of Jewish leaders (professionals and lay people – you) is to give our people real competence is areas of Judaism to use them to build their lives. So I want to invite you to step up to this challenge. As a member of B’nai Israel, your family is a part of a vibrant community. Among us are searchers and builders, teachers and learners, connectors and sticky people, those who like to pray, hang out or world repairers. Come in and talk to us, call, text, e-mail or tweet.

Come to services. Take a class. Join a committee. Meet someone new. Get together with someone you know well. Build a sukkah. Join a car pool. Let’s make some meaning together.

 Cross posted to Welcome to the Next Level

In Israel, diggers unearth the Bible's bad guys - AP News

In December of 2009, our team of Jim Joseph Foundation Fellows were in Israel for our 12-day seminar. Bar Ilan University's Lookstein Center is the sponsor of our program and we spent a bunch of time on the Bar Ilan campus during our visit. But the highlight of our campus visit (dare I say for all of us) was the trip to the archeology lab where our tour guide (aka amazing educator) Amit Dagan works and studies as a PhD student.

Amit, and his boss Aren, showed us some artifacts they had recently found.

Including this rock with the name "Goliath" engraved on it in ancient Hebrew.

They told as all about their work at Tel es Safi.

They showed us other artifacts they found:

and even let us hold some.

Today, July 9, 2011 ... this article came across my Yahoo home page (click here). Imagine my excitement at reading in the main stream news about the work of our friends - which we had witnessed first hand (and now you get to see up-close photos of!). The irony, I am sitting here in the t-shirt they gave me from the dig ... with the words "Tel es-Safi" right on my chest!

Great

memories brought to life!

8.2 Unsubstantiated Claims (and three questions) about the Meaning and Scope of "Integration" in Jewish and Non-denominational Educational Settings

This post was originally written by Rabbi Micah Lapidus on his blog: http://rabbispen.blogspot.com/. Rabbi Lapidus is the head of Judaics and the rabbi-in-residence for the Davis Academy in Atlanta, GA and is a doctoral student at Northeastern University and Hebrew College in Jewish Education Leadership.

8.2 Unsubstantiated Claims (and three questions) about the Meaning and Scope of "Integration" in Jewish and Non-denominational Educational Settings

Welcome! If you've made it past the unfortunate title of this post, then there's something wrong with you: you care. Caring is SO 1990!! Caring means responding, it means engaging in dialogue. It means lovingly denying the premise of the argument. It means sharing your thoughts with me or someone you like more.


Which brings me to the premise (AKA unsubstantiated claim #1):


(1) "Integration" is NOT about making cross curricular references between otherwise discrete and alienated academic disciplines. If that's the essence/ big idea of integration then "lame" on us!


(2) Integration is a noun and not a verb. It's not content specific. It's actually a "process" (really a series of processes).


(3) Integration is a series of processes that reflects a deep and natural human yearning: to be whole. The precondition for integration-- the thing that makes integration a necessary process-- is the fact that our world is fragmented and broken. The fact that teachers who share walls don't share goals is but one dim reflection of the shattered world which we are blessed to inhabit. Sadly it's not our biggest problem.


(4) God has many names: Truth, Good, Beauty, Love, Endlessness, Dwelling... Another name for God is "One." God is Indivisible Unity. God is Perfect and Seamless Integration. God is Process.


(5) The Divine image that resides within every human being remembers the experience of Oneness that we once self-consciously enjoyed (and still CAN enjoy) but more often than not fail to affirm. Healthy individuals integrate all the time and even have moments of joyful affirmation. Spiritually unhealthy individuals need to be guided back to an understanding of how to integrate. Healthy and unhealthy aren't meant to be judgments. I'm sorry that they sound like judgments and would love better vocab.


(6) Children know how to integrate IN SPITE of adults. Maybe it's because they're closer to the initial experience of Oneness. Maybe it's because they're children (but that would be a "tot"-ology). If we think that children are unable to integrate then we need to evaluate the conditions that we've imposed upon them that undermine this natural human process. I'm arguing that these conditions are generally unconscious, deeply embedded, and invariably lamentable and arbitrary.


(7) Two critical areas where the process of integration radically transforms social and educational experience (and therefore makes the world more integrated, whole, and healthy):

• Home/School-- There is nothing more powerful than the integration of these two institutions. Nothing should be easier. Happens all the time right? Go figure.
• Learning/Living-- The places where we learn and the places where we live (i.e. act, interact, impact) need to integrate. The school bell should never actually ring. Learning should be learning, learning should be living, living should be learning, living should be living, and this sentence should stop.

(8) Integration undermines the rigidity of roles and strips away the illusions that perpetuate the compartmentalization, departmentalization, Procrustian Bed-itization, Not In My Back Yard-itization, of the human experience. Teachers are students, students are teachers. We're all in this together. Kumbaya.


Three Questions:
If you've made it this far then let's ask:


(1) What identity markers am I so tied to that I can't experience the transcendent/grounded fullness of being a radically integrating, processing, striving, embracing creature of God?


(2) Why aren't more hugs initiated and received on any given day?


(3) Why do I say hello to some people I pass on the street and not others?


Sincerely,


Micah

In G-d I Trust? Nope! and You Can't Make Me!

This post is cross-posted to my personal blog. I feel that strongly about it.

I read an article today about a possible new license plate design for Georgia. Each design has some Peach element in it (shocker! not!) but what did shock me was that a few of the designs had "In God We Trust" at the bottom. I am outraged.

I am a purist when it comes to religion/state separation. I don't think we should have prayer before senate/congress sessions at any level of government, I don't think G-d should be mentioned in the Pledge of Allegiance and I don't think "In G-D We Trust" should be on our money. I am always angry when I hear of public schools holding graduation in churches (illegal by the way and I was part of a case that won this battle<- read about it here). So imagine my outrage at the thought that I will be required by law to declare on the bumper of my car something that I feel shouldn't be there (and if you have read my blog at all (or just this entry), you also know is an untrue statement - I don't trust G-d).

So here is the letter I wrote the Commissioner today. If you live in Georgia and agree with me, even slightly, please take the time to write him as well here:

Dear Commissioner,

My name is Robyn Faintich and I am a 5-year resident of Roswell, GA. For almost 16 years, I have been dedicated my career to being a full-time Jewish educator working with teens and their families to help them live their American lives through a Jewish lens. One topic we often engage in revolves around the issues of religion/state separation. Our families battle these issues daily in schools, public universities, town hall meetings, etc. We often engage the Anti-Defamation League to help us decipher where the law protects our rights and where it doesn't. I have not reached out to them yet on the issue for which I am writing you about, but am prepared to do so.

I just read about the new proposed license plate designs and was completely disheartened to see "In God We Trust" on several of the designs. My relationship with God, my belief or non-belief is MY personal choice. How can my state government require me to put the word "God" on my car? How can my state government require me to proclaim something from my bumper that I might not believe in?

If one of these designs is chosen, I will end up risking fines because I will NOT put this plate on my car unaltered. I would find it necessary to blacken out those words.

Please consider the serious personal religious rights violation these license plates will cause. I implore you to remove these designs from the possibilities.

Thank you in advance for your consideration. I hope to hear from you on this matter.

Robyn Faintich

Roswell, GA

Why we need to ask our students to name their “spark”

My 17 year-old son sent me a link to a fascinating TED talk. (If TED talks are new to you please see the * below for brief explanation.) In his TED talk, Dr. Peter Benson, author and president of the Search Institute shares his compelling perspective about American culture, child development and social change.

Benson believes that as a society our vision for Americas kids focuses mostly on simply keeping children safe and out of trouble and that our tactics revolve around management and control. He cynically claims that our highest aspirations for our youth are acing ACTs and make America more competitive in marketplace.

Benson’s vision is different. His focus is on raising students that thrive which he defines as “kids who experience joy, feel connected and engaged, kids who are kind, happy and compassionate and generous and kids who fall in life with their life”. Sadly through his research Benson believes that 3/4 American kids are not on the path to thriving.

Using metaphors to make his point Benson believes that youth are not vessels to be filled but fires to be lit. He believes that deep inside each child is a spark that ought to be nurtured and fanned into fire. For Benson that spark represents joy, energy, hope, direction and purpose. Benson challenges us to ask kids to name their spark and to ask them what helps them nourish their spark. Kids say they know what a spark is and easily can point to the kids with and without spark. Through his interview with kids Benson has identified 220 spark categories that include service, leading, learning, the creative life. He is careful to point out that is not the same as the work you want to do but rather is it an orientation to life—one in which life is the fullest.

As educators and parents we need to ask ourselves about what we are doing to nurture the unique spark in each of our kids. To see Peter Bensons TED talk click on this link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TqzUHcW58Us&feature=player_embedded

*A Word about TED Talks (quoted from the TED website www.ted.com/pages/about)

The TED Mission: “Spreading ideas. 

We believe passionately in the power of ideas to change attitudes, lives and ultimately, the world. So we're building here a clearinghouse that offers free knowledge and inspiration from the world's most inspired thinkers, and also a community of curious souls to engage with ideas and each other.”

TED is a nonprofit devoted to “Ideas Worth Spreading”. TED started out (in 1984) as a conference bringing together people from three worlds: Technology, Entertainment, Design. Since then its scope has become ever broader. Along with two annual TED Conference in each spring, and the TEDGlobal conference each summer -- TED includes the TEDTalks video site, and TED Conversations, the TED Fellows and TEDx programs, and the annual TED Prize.

The Bittersweet Taste of Summer...

This time of year is always so bittersweet.

Working in a day school, who’s calendar still remains built on an agrarian society, means that like many of my colleagues, and certainly the millions of students across the country, we look forward to the summers to unwind a little, catch our breathes, and recharge our proverbial batteries in preparation for the next academic year. We evaluate the year gone by, and we assess where and how we will make our necessary changes to ensure another successful, innovative, and “upgraded” experience for our students when they return to school in the fall.

However, even with the wonderful summers to enjoy the privileges of “two months off”, seeing the students leave for the summer is always a little sad… even if understandable and expected. That being said, this year, as I stood giving my charge to the graduates during their graduation ceremony, I noticed while looking out at those 36 young adult faces, that they too expressed a similar bittersweet sense of happiness and sadness.

Upon asking these graduates about their bittersweet expressions I was (very pleasantly) surprised to hear their appreciation and acknowledgment of their recognition of having been provided a Jewish day school education. These students understood that they were moving on from an environment that had prepared them for a high school experience with a perspective and an outlook on life that their contemporaries had simply not been offered.

In today’s increasingly high stakes educational environment, I meet children all the time who describe their education as being “force-fed knowledge” like it was disappearing or becoming ever extinct. Ironically, as information becomes more easily accessible it seems as though the common American education system is perpetuating an outdated model attempting to deal with unprecedented access to unlimited information using the same old model of education built on limited access to information. This persistent need to focus more on our children’s ability to regurgitate information in order to demonstrate “knowledge” rather than gaining “wisdom” to evaluate and synthesize the knowledge must be addressed beyond the day school’s walls.

I specifically differentiate between “knowledge” and “wisdom” because as a Headmaster of a Jewish day school I have come to understand, and even appreciate and embrace the fact, that knowledge is knowing the information, whereas wisdom is knowing what to do with the information!

Our Jewish heritage and traditions never called our great texts “knowledge literature” rather it has always been recalled as our “wisdom literature”. At the Seder we never identify the child who is knowledgeable or similarly the ones who lack the knowledge, rather we mention the wise one, the wicked one, the simple one, and the one who does not know how to ask. Interestingly, the way our Haggadah describes each of these is in direct reference to their ability to ask questions; never is it described as what knowledge or information these proverbial sons possess or are able to potentially regurgitate back to the adults at the table.

And what about common culture? If one does a quick Google search for the term “wise owl” or “wise old owl” one gets 1,100,000 and 341,000 results in 0.12 and 0.21 seconds respectively. However, try “knowledgeable owl” and “knowledgeable old owl” and you get 666 and 2 in 0.16 and 0.04 seconds respectively! Not that this is scientific by any stretch of the imagination, but it certainly demonstrates how the masses use/identify these terms!

One of the most significant things that make Jewish day schools so unique is the ability for a child to graduate the day school experience and see the world through a “Jewish lens”. This ability to see things that others see, but from a perspective that generates questions and continued curiosity and learning is unique to how we today should be quantifying and even qualifying “successful education”. For a child to ask questions and think critically about what they see, and to not always take what they see for granted or even as the only option, is what has helped the Jews survive when other mightier, wealthier, larger, and even nobler sovereignties, dynasties, commonwealths and empires have fallen.

Unfortunately however, common knowledge tells us that the Jewish community is less connected, less involved, less affiliated, and less Jewishly educated than it has ever been historically. Yet, ask most Jewish educators and our collective wisdom will tell you that we just have to question whether what we are offering as a Jewish community is meaningful, useful, beneficial, and worthy of “becoming connected” by the marginally affiliated?

For my students, and in my microcosm of the world, I am proud to say “yes”. Yes, our students are unquestionably connected, and graduating with wisdom beyond their years. But as a Jewish educator, committed to ensuring an active, vibrant, and sustainable Jewish community for future generations, here I am disappointingly less confident!