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Staff Blog
"I find that not infrequently these days, I’m angry at God," writes JEIC Managing Director Sharon Freundel of her feelings about the situation in Israel. "I find myself angry at the One who ultimately orchestrates what happens in this world...But I’m an adult who has spent much of my life grappling with theological issues. How might we address emotions such as anger at God with our students?" she asks.
In this blog post, Rabbi Feld discusses how at the induction stage of teaching, teachers often struggle with an issue called cognitive entrenchment: a state of mind in which you believe you have gained so much knowledge in an area that you begin to take for granted norms that should be questioned. On one hand, this helps the new teacher build comfort, stability, efficiency, and a sense of expertise. But on the other hand, he explains, the “cozy status quo which reinforces its own truths deters the teacher from notions of innovation by challenging assumptions that would benefit the student.”
In a new series of reports, Collaborative for Applied Studies in Jewish Education (CASJE) found in its specific review of professional development in Jewish schools that only 55% of the respondents agree or strongly agree that their organization provides sufficient opportunities for professional development.
Sharon Freundel shares her view of the critical importance of ongoing, school-embedded professional development for teachers and its impact on student learning, and reflects on how we may be able to address this disappointing statistic.
In this blog article about making change, JEIC managing director Sharon Freundel echos three phases of changemaking and three roles that people play at various times, originally identified by Rabbi Justus Baird of the Shalom Hartman Institute of North America.
“As we consider our major initiatives at JEIC, we realize that this is what we have been doing unconsciously all along,” said Freundel, naming the recent “God Expansion” initiative as just one way that JEIC is making change in Jewish day schools.
Typically, educators frame the purpose of assessment as a way to gather relevant information about students' performance or their learning process.
In this article by JEIC Founding Director Rabbi Shmuel Feld, he suggests that “Jewish studies teachers could use assessment for a different purpose. Imagine if assessment could also be a way to develop students’ intrinsic motivation by making assessments more learner-centered.”
“We could redefine assessment as a tool for students to harness instead of a way to evaluate what they demonstrate,” he maintains.
Many Jewish educators struggle to use Tanakh for its greatest gift — the fashioning of committed Jews. Teachers could guide their students to go down a joyful and fruitful path by inviting students to a world of wonder and belief.
Read about a different strategy for teaching Tanakh in Rabbi Shmuel Feld’s recent blog post, originally published in Prizmah.
Resilience describes the combined psychological strength to cope with stress and hardship while creating an adaptable Plan B. Adam Grant, noteworthy organizational psychologist , explains, “I don’t think there is any skill more critical than resilience.”
The field of research on resilience demonstrates that intrinsic motivation mechanisms fuel the development of resilience. Embedded in the fiber of Judaism, resilience emerges in many ways through our texts, rituals, and beliefs.
During the time of Coronavirus, stressors and altered learning platforms require a teacher to inculcate this Jewish trait of resilience more explicitly into the students. Being able to return to normal after or grow from a negative situation (an aspect of resilience) involves filling the toolbox before the stressful situation occurs.
Two years ago, I wrote a blog post entitled Modeling the Joy of Judaism in which I proposed that parents together with the Jewish day schools need to inculcate their children with the joy connected to Judaism and with happiness and excitement about the prospect of fulfilling mitzvot. The article reflected on the intensity of the month of Tishrei with the sweet symbolism of Rosh Hashanah, the introspection associated with Yom Kippur, and the unbridled joy of Sukkot and Simchat Torah, all of which ingrain in our children the meaning and importance of Jewish traditions and values.
We now live in a world in which parents, much more than educators, are influencing how their children see and respond to the world. The necessity of going online and of each family hunkering down in its own abode has intensified the parent-child relationship. The experiential learning that schools have done in the past for the Tishrei holidays: the apple-picking and honey tasting, the sounding of the shofar, the building of and enjoying a snack with the associated brachot (blessings) in the school sukkah, the shaking of the lulav and etrog, the dancing and singing surrounding the Hoshanot ceremony, and the creation of Sifrei Torah (Torah Scrolls) from 2-liter soda bottles and rolls of paper, cannot take place this year as in past years and will, at best, be only a pale reflection of a robust communal school experience in crafting the ambience of the holidays. This year, the hands-on elements of the holiday experience will, by needs, fall mostly on the parents.
“I have no special talents. I am only passionately curious.” ― Albert Einstein
Curiosity is the engine of education, fueling growth of the mind in students. Children have a neurological desire to seek answers, when confronted with a gap of knowledge. Therefore, it is crucial that educators encourage their students to be critical thinkers, always wanting to seek more knowledge. We as educators cannot allow our lessons to be driven by success and grades, as that dynamic impedes the growth of our students. In Jewish education specifically, this results in reduced curiosity, resentful feelings, and dulled minds in relation to our most sacred possession: our spiritual inheritance. In order to create intrinsic motivation and positive associations with our ancient wisdom, perhaps we need to reconnect with curiosity and infuse it into our Judaic disciplines.
According to investopedia.com, in the investment world, a value proposition refers to a company's ultimate marketing strategy to solidify its brand with consumers based on "what the company stands for, how it operates, and why it deserves their business."
So, for instance, I may want to buy a Tesla―as opposed to any other car―because:
It looks cool.
I respect Elon Musk and his values.
It offers the cutting edge of technology.
It’s better for the environment.
No value proposition can possibly be a one-size-fits-all approach, as people may have different reasons to want to buy a product.
The paradigm of value proposition can be applied to Jewish day schools. At a stressful time of online learning and exorbitant tuition fees, why should parents choose day school over Hebrew charter school, supplementary school or no formal Jewish education at all? How will Jewish day school benefit and enhance the lives of children and their families?
Many of us who have worked in the field of Jewish education for a long time believed that we “had seen it all.” Aside from all else that the coronavirus pandemic has shown us, we have learned that we haven’t seen it all and probably never will. It certainly has brought the professional hubris down a peg or two.
So what was new and inspiring? What were some of the most creative approaches and innovative programs that surfaced in day schools? I’m enthusiastic to celebrate schools’ successes, visionaries, and takeaways that have the potential to change the field in positive ways moving forward. I’m grateful to the many Jewish day school stakeholders who shared good news and optimism through individual conversations and group convenings such as JEIC’s virtual 2020 Innovators Retreat.
Here’s the first piece of good news: Collaboration is growing and it matters.
Collaboration is on the rise, both among teachers in the same school and between different schools in the same or diverse geographical regions. As I remarked, “b’zman hitbodedut, ayn tacharut: At a time of isolation, there is no competition.” [It sounds a bit more poetic in Hebrew because it rhymes.] This increased collaboration bodes well for now and the future; working together is a Jewish imperative, as the Talmud in Tractate Bava Batra 22a states, “kinat sofrim tarbeh chochmah: A healthy competition increases wisdom.” In that spirit, we appreciate the Jewish Community Relief Impact Fund for promoting collaborative grant opportunities among Jewish day schools.
Here’s the second piece of good news: Day school professionals remain resilient and dedicated to their work.
Despite administrators and teachers being exhausted and running on fumes, they have demonstrated their abiding commitment to their calling of imbuing our students with Jewish wisdom and values. Our educators and leaders have powered through and continue to power through the greatest crisis in our lifetimes. To quote a head of school, “This is not just a financial crisis, but this is also a values crisis. We need our schools to ensure that we as a people have a future.” Added another educator, “Changes are causing us to reemphasize what is important.” Like the aspect of collaboration mentioned above, rethinking our values including the importance of teachers―also mentioned in Tractate Bava Batra―is one outcome that should outlive the current crisis.
Here’s a third piece of good news: Creativity and innovation abound.
The abundance of creativity that has appeared in classes, co-curricular sessions, and special events is remarkable. Below are a few examples without attribution to school, since I am confident similar things are happening in various schools around the country.
Daily school announcements on social media enfranchise every staff member in the virtual school effort. Each day, morning announcements were made in different and interesting ways by a different staff member―not only teachers and administrators―but the security guard, the bus driver, the office staff, the housekeeping crew, and various other adults involved in the school. This allowed students to see trusted adults from school who were not in their Zoom classes.
Teachers are varying instructional strategies in virtual classrooms. I observed a teacher in a Beit Midrash course presenting a concept to the whole group, followed by student chevruta/partner work in virtual breakout rooms culminating with each student individually submitting their developed understanding of the text. In a 45-minute virtual class, the teacher supported a short frontal presentation, small group work, and individual culminating essays serving as an exit card and formative assessment. The lesson was broken down into manageable chunks and the students played an active role, leaving little room for zoning out while staring at the small boxes showing their teacher and classmates.
Thoughtful planning can maintain treasured rituals and relationships that engage students in learning and community. I was fortunate to join a Thursday morning school tefillah, during which all students were required to have their cameras turned on so that “they could be part of the tzibbur [community] experience,” and in which the words of the prayers/Torah reading were shared on screen. The tefillah included student shlichei tzibbur [prayer leaders] and baalei kriah [Torah readers], as well as a D’var Torah given by the principal with the explicit message of “You count!” As I watched the faces of the children and the many faculty members present, I could see how the forethought and preparation of this tefillah session were quenching students’ and teachers’ thirst for connecting as a community.
Graduations are retaining traditions while creating personal connections. I had the honor of witnessing a high school graduation, where each graduate took a favorite personal item and “passed it” to the graduate in the next Zoom window in lieu of the traditional processional. Many classic features of graduation―such as faculty remarks or student awards―were retained (albeit pre-recorded), which gave the ceremony a sense of familiarity. The administrators actually visited each student’s home to present them their diploma and received awards―with the student wearing full graduation regalia. These presentations were pre-recorded and presented with a voice-over by an administrator, laying out each student’s achievements and strengths.
The similarities that I see among all of the good news items are intentionality, thought, and reflection on how we can best keep our students connected emotionally, spiritually, and academically. To me, this intentionality bodes well for the future of Jewish day school education. So thank you to all of the stakeholders in Jewish day school education who have not only kept school going during the current situation, but have elevated their practice in numerous ways.
We discovered that schools who created positive culture change and programmatic shifts in the past are reaping the rewards of that effort today. Each of the three positive patterns below reflects a school’s years-long investment in personnel development, culture building, and the development of a shared set of underlying assumptions.
1. The administration positioned professional development and student engagement in technology as an extension of learning tools, rather than ignoring technology or making it an end in itself.
2. The administration and teachers nurtured a deep relationship of trust and empathy with faculty and staff.
3. Parents, school leadership, and professional staff, nurtured a deep level of trust and empathy.
ONE: A liturgical thought
TWO: A practical thought
THREE: A Torah thought
We are living in a different world than we were a week or two ago. The world is changing at such a fast pace. We are playing catch-up and functioning in the now rather than being able to plan in advance. Having said that, here are some quick thoughts that I hope will help us all cope and lift up our spirits.
As we all navigate the new, current reality of social distancing, here are a few reassuring points to keep in mind:
For Jewish children, one of the joys of Purim is dressing up, and on a more serious note, costumes send two central messages on Purim. First, costumes indicate that the surface of something may not reflect the actuality of that thing. Second, since God’s name does not appear in Megilat Esther, God is essentially hiding behind the text, arranging the string of “coincidences” that guide Esther’s story to its grand conclusion. Similarly, we hide our true faces from each other and present false fronts.
Often, in the Jewish nonprofit world, we employ a similar strategy of hiding not limited to Purim use. This hiding also happens with words. Recently, we constructed a list composed of jargon we hear often in our nonprofit world. At one time these words conveyed profound meaning. Through overuse, they have become less impactful. On the positive side, these words seek to create a common language and a connection among professionals and lay leaders. On the less positive side, their use becomes banal and blunted when used haphazardly.
In honor of the themes of Purim, I suggest that we utilize the Jewish tradition of Purim humor. In the 2011 Positive Psychology work by Müller and Ruch, Humor and Strengths of Character, they point out that the ability to laugh at our foibles makes us stronger and more connected to each other. In addition, we gain realizations and perspectives about ourselves.
JEIC’s mission is to catalyze radical improvement in Jewish day schools. As part of this, we realize that all components of the Jewish day school ecosystem—administrators, educators, parents, students, and influencers—must work together in sync in order for positive culture change to occur and become deeply ingrained in the schools.
In light of that, some interesting statistics surfaced in Education Week, two of which I would like to address. Both of these indicate a disconnect between the perceptions of the principals (which includes heads of school and division heads) and the perceptions of the teachers—a phenomenon that can only impede student growth and progress. Clearly, the article is addressing secular schools, both private and public. But Jewish day schools are not immune to these disconnects, and it is worth surfacing and discussing these specific issues.
Brian Dyson, former vice chairman and COO of Coca-Cola said, “Imagine life as a game in which you are juggling some five balls in the air. You name them — work, family, health, friends and spirit and you’re keeping all of these in the air. You will soon understand that work is a rubber ball. If you drop it, it will bounce back. But the other four balls — family, health, friends, and spirit — are made of glass. If you drop one of these, they will be irrevocably scuffed, marked, nicked, damaged, or even shattered. They will never be the same. You must understand that and strive for balance in your life.”
In schools professional demands abound, since we need to be present--both physically and mentally. Teachers need to be on site for both arrival and dismissal, teach on their feet between four and six periods a day, cover lunches and recesses, prepare unit plans and lesson plans, meet with supervisors, colleagues, parents, and individual students, grade tests, write report cards, and somewhere in there, they need to develop their content and their own professional practices and come up with creative ways to facilitate student learning. Teachers in Jewish day schools, in particular, are often expected to blur the lines between their professional and personal lives, taking “PTA meetings” at synagogue on Shabbat and working way beyond their contracted hours, because “it’s for the future of the Jewish community.” Or having awkward encounters with colleagues who happen to be their child’s teacher or running into a difficult parent at a kids’ soccer game.
These expectations alone are enough to burn anyone out. Now add to a teacher’s life a spouse, one or more children, a family member who is elderly or experiencing a health crisis, and we create the need for a 72-hour day.
How can the administrators in Jewish day schools assure a proper work-life balance for their staff?
Over the past 75 years, Jewish day schools in North America have experimented with ways of teaching Jewish identity. The methodologies ranged from heavy textual induction to deep discussion to Israeli dance to computer-based solutions to maker spaces to Project Based Learning. In that time a singular topic remains under-developed: how to teach about the Divine. Most approaches focus on either: trying to create an emotional connection with God through nature, meditation, or experiential learning; or sharing a significant amount of knowledge about the topic of God with the potential for some discussion from students.
What other methods could teachers employ to build a strong, lasting Jewish identity in their students?
Phillip Stanhope, 4th Earl of Chesterfield, a British statesman and man of letters, is purported to have said on March 10, 1746, “Whatever is worth doing at all, is worth doing well.”
Nearly 300 years later, those words still ring true and certainly should speak to Jewish educators. Our work is “worth doing” in order to develop in the next generation a healthy Jewish identity and sense of connectedness; given those stakes, it needs to be done in the best way possible.
What might that “best way” entail?
At least in part, it should include collaborative practice. A spiraling scope and sequence―considered best practice for teaching―needs input from all teachers to create seamless boundaries among subjects and from grade to grade. When we present challenges to a community of practice, the discussion generates a more robust list of solutions than when we grapple alone with an issue. There is value in feeling like we are part of something larger than our own classrooms in a profession where one’s primary rewards are gleaned from students’ successes.
Why, then, do most schools create schedules in a way that is penny-wise, but pound-foolish?
During Kol Nidre, which ushers in Yom Kippur each year, the Jewish community does something seemingly odd. We publicly declare all of our vows between a person and God null and void from this Yom Kippur to the next one. Rabbi J. B. Soloveitchik points out that we nullify vows based on two premises (explained in Shulchan Aruch Yoreh Deah 228).
1. At the time a promise was made, a person was ignorant of some circumstance that made it too difficult to perform the promise.
2. At the time of the vow, the person was not ignorant, but came to regret the promise as time moved on because of new circumstances. Fulfilling the vow became too difficult.
Kol Nidre makes these assumptions with its grand stroke of remitting a statement that all these vows disappear for the next year. This future thinking makes us more attuned to our future vows, cautioning us against making regrettable promises.
