Prevention

As chazal tell us, G-d sometimes is makdim refuah l'maka - he provides the solution to a problem before bringing about the problem itself. Such a trait is definitely one of those that we should be emulating. If people would spend as much time trying to prevent problems from arising as much as they do solving (read: complaining about) them, we would be in a much better place.

This idea has come to the forefront on the heels of the recent tragedy. Much has been made (and rightfully so) of teaching our children about safety with strangers. However, prevention should not be reserved for confronting life-and-death issues. Many life lessons and skills should be instilled in children before the problems that necessitate these lessons and skills arise.

For example, wouldn't it be great if a school would start teaching kids about how to properly respect one another before the bullying starts? Most of the time this stuff is focused on only after the problem begins and the maladaptive patterns of behavior (from both the bully and the bullied) become habit.

However, schools are busy educating our kids (hopefully) and don't really have the time or resources to create and implement serious social skills programs. Therefore, it is left to parents to take care of these issues. (Can you imagine that? Parenting being left to parents?)

So parents, please, find the time to talk to your children about the "serious" things like drugs, drinking, bullying, and abuse. But also find the time to discuss being kind, empathetic, and unafraid to be different before they are mean to a classmate or teased for being "weird." Warn them that others may be richer or smarter than them, but also teach them about priorities and self-esteem.

If you follow this advice you will benefit greatly. You don't want to be stuck cleaning up messes, no matter how little they may seem. And more importantly, your children will benefit immensely if they receive the tools to develop as confident and well-adjusted people. Don't rely on schools to fulfill this important responsibility - it is yours first.

On Flashmobs and Maccabeats Part II: Subjectivity in Judaism

This whole Morasha flashmob thing is getting interesting as I finally have some people arguing with what I am saying. So I will try to milk this as much as possible by tackling every related issue until I get bored. Here goes:


The first issue is whether I have a right to an opinion here at all. After all, isn't there a Torah opinion on all matters? Shouldn't I just find out what that is from a Rabbi or two and just go with that? Obviously (to some at least), it's not that simple.


The starting point here is the fact that not every action a person takes is confined by normative halacha. This of course does not exclude us from using discretion in the areas outside the Shulchan Aruch. Rather, it provides us with a different set of parameters for decision making. The question is what are those parameters? The answer to this question is really what drives 90% of debate and division among Orthodox Jews.


I will avoid elaborating on every approach as I don't really know all of them and even if I did, it might take too long. So I will say what I have to say, and leave it up to the reader to decide whether to criticize or say amen.


This discussion gets off the ground with a simple "why." Why, if the defining characteristic of Orthodox Judaism is to be subservient to G-d's will, would G-d hide his will from us in certain areas? Why not tell us how much to eat, how much to sleep, and what color clothing we should wear? I think the answer is a combination of two factors: The importance of human interaction with the religion and the fact that people relate to G-d and life in different ways.


As far as the first factor is concerned, this is nothing new. The written Torah is a very ambiguous document. It is full of general rules without details and vague commandments without description. And even for the details and descriptions that were given orally, not every specific situation was elaborated. Much was left to us to explain, derive, and decide.


Why G-d created it this way, I cannot say. However, I can discuss the benefits of such a format. Firstly, religion is going to appeal more to people when they feel as if they have input; they can now relate to it better. This reason explains the benefit, but is there a necessity as well? I say yes.


People are different from one another. We all think, feel, and react differently when presented with the same information and situations. This is the simple reality. Again, I don't think it's likely that anyone can tell you why G-d created us this way. However, once we acknowledge this fact, the ambiguous nature of the Torah makes a lot more sense. Each individual is now provided with the proper amount of autonomy to decide how different aspects of G-d's manifesto applies to their lives.


Although taking this approach to its extreme would create a Judaism without any real standards, a line can be drawn. If we take the Oral Torah seriously, each comandment comprises specifics as to how it is followed. These details are (for the most part) objective, and define the requirement of and the limits to our behavior. However, there are many areas that are not defined by commandments. By leaving these areas open, G-d has provided a significant amount of autonomy over our lives.


We are not told how much to eat at meals, what music to listen to (music of avodah zara notwithstanding), or how to spend our free time. And most importantly, we are not told how to make meaning out of the world around us. Many of us shun secular culture, while others embrace it. Some of can relate to G-d throgh biology, others through good deeds, and a third via intensive Torah study. With these areas up to us, we can now connect to G-d and religion in ways that jive with our personalities and attitudes.


With this approach in hand, I feel comfortable recognizing multiple legitimate approaches to how we lead our extra-halachik lives. I also feel comfortable saying that decisions can change based on context. It would follow then, that we don't have the right to tell people what is appropriate and inappropriate in these areas. Any honest approach towards G-d, Judaism, and life should be legitimized, granted that it finds its source in the Torah and that it includes the areas that are objectively defined as being important/required.


So when people make comments like "it is a complete breach of tznius to allow such things" or "it is horrible that we are settling for less with our children," they are often undermining this fundamental of Judaism. Everyone has a right to their opinion, including those who want to be more restrictive. But opinions should be expressed and elaborated in a way that says "I respect you opinon, but here is mine," as opposed to "you are wrong, and this is how it has to be."


A little "live and let live" can go a long way.

On Flashmobs and Maccabeats (sorry for the multiple posts)

When you call a Yeshiva and are put on hold, do you hear the sweet sounds of Michael Bolton on Lite Fm, or do you hear Shwecky (if you are lucky) or the Miami Boys Choir (if you aren't)? When you watch a slideshow from a Jewish Camp is the background music Pink of Avraham Fried? Have Adam Sandler or Jason Alexander ever been the keynote speakers at the YU graduation?

Nobody should blame Jewish schools and camps for presenting themselves in a more Jewish way. After all, these rganizations aim to promote Jewish values. This is why it piqued my interest a bit when I came across the Morasha flashmob video being promoted by @Jerjoszef on Twitter. The fact that such an event occurred is not as surprising to me as the fact that it was promoted by the camp as something they were proud of.

More poignantly, imagine if one of the YP shiurim at YU decided to perform a flashmob in the middle of Amsterdam Avenue to a song by the Black Eyed Peas. Pretty controversial. Yet, this is essentially what is happening here. A Yeshiva University camp, with a serious Kollel and a BeisMedrash program and run by Rabbis sends a group of kids to dance in public to some non-Jewish party song, and then proudly displays it on the internet! Yet, this represents a step in the right direction.

(I am aware that the kollel members and Rabbis of this camp would mostly not approve of the flashmob. However, it is still striking that a camp would foster a kollel and employ Roshei Yeshiva, while at the same time inviting activities that are not characteristic of the classic "ben Torah" or "Bas Torah.")

Imagine if some campers from Camp Agudah or some bochrim from the Fallsburg Yeshiva decided to post a flashmob or Chanuka-related song parody on the internet. Imagine the outcry! Round-the-clock tehillim recitals at the koisel! For all those who think we live in the same world as the Yeshivish, here is a perfect test-case to prove you wrong.

Yet, if we were to poll all Limmdei Kodesh faculty from all Jewish day-schools and high-schools in the Tristate Area, what percentage would approve of such an event? Dancing in public! Where is the sense of anavah? Girls and boys performing together! Where is the perishus? Girls displaying themselves in public! Where is the tznius? And don't you know tznius applies to boys as well?

I give credit to Morasha for not being afraid to encourage kids to have fun in a healthy way without being concerned for the camp's image (3 weeks issue nonwithstanding). And this is what our camps are about: giving kids the freedom to express themselves in a (somewhat) serious Jewish context. Many of us owe more of our Jewish identity to our summer camp experiences than to the ones we had the other 10 months of the year. Some might say that their camp experiences helped form a positive Jewish identity despite their experiences in school.


This is similar to the Maccabeats phase from last year. The Jewish community embraced their video. Even though it involved using a non-Jewish tune and guys "displaying" themselves on the internet. My daughter came home from school singing "I flip my latkes in the air sometimes." It did not bother her teachers and it did not bother me.

Moving forward, we must realize that viewing Torah-values and thew values of our youth as polar opposites is harmful. Such a viewpoint sets chinuch up as a competition between "us" and "them," as a clash of ideals. Instead, we must embrace the new way of relating and channel it in a way that will help our kids feel understood, appreciated, and that Judaism has a place in their lives. So instead or railing against secular culture, Facebook, and texting, let's show them how to use this media properly, but in a way that is still enjoyable.

I don't intend these remarks to be taken in an Aish HaTorah/NCSY sort of way where the goal is is to seem cool just to get kids to drink the Kool-Aid. I usually consider such efforts to be inappropriate ways of marketing Judaism. My approach is different. I believe that modes of personal expression and communication change from generation, and these innovations are not necessarily "good" or "bad." Instead, they represent a new way of relating that comes with positives and negatives. Change often makes people uncomfortable, and therefore vulnerable to emphasizing the negative. However, in this case, focusing on the positive will do a lot more good than criticizing the negative. Instead of trying to "beat" our kids, let's get busy "joining" them. Maybe then they will hear what we have to say.

*Time Love and Tenderness is one of the first tapes I ever owned. No regrets.

Simply Making a Point

On Sunday, we had a great speaker come in who really captivated the kids. His message was that we should all be open to recognizing how Judaism can be for our benefit as people and not a set of silly rituals we do for G-d.

But it wasn't the message that was so unique, it was the delivery. The speech had probably 3o minutes of introduction and 7 to 10 minutes of meaningful content. Not only that, but there was only one message he attempted to get across. Oh, and there was not one quote from any "Torah source."

So often, people giving speeches choose complexity over clarity. They ask 4 questions with 3 answers each and each answer has 2 proofs. Such speeches go over many people's heads (especially male teenagers at Sunday school). Sometimes (or more often than that) it is more effective to package one simple 5 minute message in 40 minutes of entertainment, than all the pesukim and statements from Chazal in the world.

The Root of the Problem? (Part II)

Over at Ezzie's blog, a commenter who goes by the moniker Jewish Atheist had a few comments on my last post. I would like to address his comments (in blue) with my own thoughts.

Jewish Atheist writes:
I think I agree with you, although I think I'd put a different spin on it. You make it sound like the rabbis always have the right values and the parents always have the wrong ones. In my personal experience, a lot of the difference was that the parents were actually Modern Orthodox and the rabbis were not, so it was more about hashkafo than about having "little-to-no commitment to the ideals and practices of Judaism."

Modern Orthodoxy constantly confuses me. I should take that back: The theory of Modern Orthodoxy doesn't really confuse me, rather it is the practice of Modern Orthodoxy today that I have trouble understanding. Without going into many of the details, suffice it to say that many Modern Orthodox families seem to have very inconsistent commitments to Orthodoxy. Certain aspects of their religious lives are consistent with standard Torah and Rabbinic Judaism, while some of their actions can be exonerated by less-than-mainstream opinions, and still other activities and attitudes completely contradict accepted Jewish laws and essential Jewish values.

The presence of (seemingly) contradictory values is in itself not surprising; in every circle of Judaism you will find those who have trouble practicing what they preach. However, in my experiences it is the attitude of many Modern Orthodox that distinguishes their version of hypocrisy. The approach usually involves doing "what feels right" religiously, which sometimes conforms to mainstream halacha and sometimes doesn't. What stands out is the lack of accompanying philosophy; it's often more about inertia than anything else.

I suppose, and hope, that what I am describing here is based on what I see outwardly. Many of those who I am describing must feel connected to Judaism, and surely can provide the theory for their actions. However, the same way that I have trouble sensing the meaning behind the actions and decisions of many in the Modern Orthodox world, I believe the kids from these homes do as well. When pop-culture and secular values are embraced the way they are in many homes, it becomes very difficult to convey the importance of a "Jewish lifestyle." This is especially difficult for children and teens who often see things in black-and-white, and have difficulty appreciating nuances.

So, I when I say that parents have "little-to-no commitment to the ideals and practices of Judaism," I mean two things: One, that many of these parents actually have little-to-no commitment to the ideals and practices of Judaism. And two: that many of those who do struggle with, or have given up on, adequately passing these values on to their children.

Jewish Atheist continues:
I know I started distrusting the rabbis early on because of some of those differences. For example, my mother had a good friend from childhood who was not Jewish, but one of my rabbis insisted that Jews and non-Jews could never have real friendship, that the non-Jew would always eventually "turn on you." This was in 4th grade. Other rabbis were blatantly sexist and racist. But even beyond blatant stuff like that, there was a pervasive disrespect for all things modern -- for secular studies, for professions outside of chinuch, etc. etc. Values that our parents instilled in us.

Although growing up many of us had "yeshivish" Rabbis, the trend today is for more middle of the road teachers who are sympathetic to the students' backgrounds. The "racist/sexist" Rebbeim that we like to stereotype are few and far-between. Yet, the discrepancy in values is still huge, including objectively important values such as the importance of tefilla and talmud torah, modesty, and respect for other people's feelings, to name a few.

Jewish Atheist concludes:
I know why it's like that. There just aren't enough rabbis who are truly modern to teach the schools. To blame it on the parents strikes me as unfair. There were some rabbis who legitimately believed in Modern Orthodoxy and represented it well, but they were few and far between. The rest basically waffled back and forth, didn't offer a coherent message, and regularly violated values that we were taught by our parents.

What JA brings up here is a major problem, and also reveals a tremendous failure in the practical application of Modern Orthodoxy. There are very few Modern Orthodox educators and administrators (although there are more now than ever). On the most basic level, I believe this is simply due to the same problem I have been discussing. In many Modern Orthodox circles, the transmission of basic Jewish values is being sacrificed for the sake of embracing modernity. Unfortunately, the importance of passing on Torah knowledge and values in a formal way has become one of these casualties. There just aren't enough Modern Orthodox Jews who feel compelled to make the sacrifices required by a career in chinuch. So who do they expect will teach in your schools, if they won't?

And again, I repeat this fact. Although I consider myself a "Modern Orthodox" m'chanech I am routinely appalled/disappointed/saddened by the behavior, language, and attitude of many of my students and others that I come in contact with. This as nothing to do with me being anti-secular knowledge, anti-culture, anti-work, anti-zionist, racist, sexist, or homophobic. My disappointment is not only in how these kids are religiously, but how they are as people as well.

The Modern Orthodox community needs to take a long look at itself the mirror and ask "Who are we?" "What do we value?" and "Are we properly transmitting our values to our children?" If the answer to the last question is "no," then I think we all know where to start making changes.

The Root of the Problem?

To really get to the bottom of today's chinuch dynamic, we must start with those who are actually responsible for chinuch: parents. Although chinuch is often outsourced to surrogates known as "teachers," the fact remains that those with the greatest impact on, and responsibility for the chinuch of today's youth are those who brought this generation into existence.

So, if we in the world of chinuch are upset, confused, disgusted, or disappointed by the attitudes and actions of many of our students, we should know where to turn. Additionally, if we impressed, pleasantly surprised, or inspired by the same students, we should also know who to thank. And most importantly, this means that if we want to start dealing with problems (or see if there is such a possibility), we should know exactly where to go.

Education is clearly most effective when it is being enforced at home. The effort a school puts forth to imbue students with a love of and respect for learning will be exponentially fruitful if those values are repeated at home. In such a dynamic, the school is really the protagonist, and the actions of the parents should be seen as force that keeps the momentum going from day-to-day. When it comes to values, on the other hand, it should be the parents providing the main force with the schools facilitating the continuity.

Unfortunately, this is far from the case with many (I refrained from using "most" here, but I was close) students. Parents are more often than ever relying on schools to teach their kids religious and moral values and to make their kids normal people. However, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to realize that such a system is doomed to fail.

In general, children form their identities from the time they are born, and mostly from what they learn at home. Therefore, students who are not taught religious values at home will see the school as contradicting what they "believe" in, not enhancing their characters. This dynamic creates a default setting of "contentious" before getting started. A school with a positive environment can overcome this problem, but that requires toeing the fine line between being a school and a camp.

Another issue is that religion and morality require responsibility and effort. The other option, doing whatever you feel like, is not exactly a burden. As the Torah tells us, " yetzer lev adam rah mineu'rav." A person is predisposed to be selfish and lazy, and we are asking children to change that way of thinking. If change is seen as the only option, then we are headed the right way. However, if children have their home-setting to fall back on, why wouldn't they choose it.

And even if students are willing to be open to listening, we must remember school is an artificial setting. If we want our young men and women to learn how to be good people and to value religion, it must be done in a natural environment. Religion and morality are not relegated to a certain place or a time, rather they represent the catalyst for most of, if not all, our thoughts, actions, and relationships. Real-life skills are best taught in real life.

Bottom line: for the religious school environment to be successful, the home and school experiences must be somewhat in harmony

To tell you the truth, most of this post has been written while giving the benefit of the doubt. Generously, I assumed that parents actually care that their children develop proper priorities. Additionally, I took for granted that parents generally share the same values as the schools, but have difficulty putting those values into practice to set good examples. Is that really true? Just some food for thought/comments until the next post...

Update: Sorry, I forgot to include the comments from the last post that inspired me to write this one. As astute commenter and grizzled veteran of child-raising, Ephraim Frenkel, writes:

Speaking as a parent and not an educator, I don’t think the solution lies solely in the classroom or even in educating children. How many parents are the “disinterested souls” you mention that are passing on disingenuous actions to their children? As parents, our children will look to us first for a role model and their inspiration. If we as parents cannot pass on the sincerity in our performance of mitzvot and rituals we will perpetuate superficiality of our religion which will unfortunately lead to more disenfranchised Jews. I commend you for attempting to address the problem, but you must attack it from two fronts – the classroom and the home. To be truly successful, you will not only need to educate your students but re-educate the parents.

And as Master of the Succinct, The Attack, writes:

What goes on at home is infinitely more important to the students than what goes on in school.

Couldn't have said it better myself.

Teaching Meaningful Judaism

I got some good feedback from last week's post, including an off-the-blog response that I would like to share parts of. Thanks to Rabbi Dov Emerson of DRS and Rabbi Jonathan Kroll of S/A/R High-School for taking the time to comment.

The basic precedent we put forward was that we need a more patient and understanding approach for our students when it comes to religion. Instead of focusing on “getting them to do things,” we should be more concerned with teaching the meaning of what we do and letting the appreciation grow over time.

The following comments are printed with permission; my comments in bold.

Rabbi Emerson says:

When it comes to expecting our students to participate in the often-challenging rituals of Orthodox Jewish practice (tzitzis, kippah, etc), I definitely agree that more time needs to be spent educating them as to the meaning (and beauty) behind these mitzvos. By extension, I personally feel that we need to invest more time and energy in developing full-fledged "Jewish Philosophy" courses, even for younger students.

I would have to agree 100% with this assertion. Besides changing our approach to students on an informal level, we should also design curricula directed at teaching and eliciting thoughtful approaches to religious observance.

However, here is what Rabbi Kroll had to say:

In response to this concern, we started a new piece of curriculum this year. Twice a week groups of 8 kids meet with a faculty member to learn about different mitzvot. These study-groups focus on textual mekorot and, more significantly, on how our students can find meaning and on how they behave with regard to these mitzvot. We worked on the curriculum over the summer and it has been generally well received...The point is to create a lot of conversation but to do so in a way that an entire grade is working on the same thing at the same time.

However, in my humble opinion, the primary motivation for the vast majority of kids is not intellectual understanding of meaning behind mitzvot but rather an emotional attachment with the orthodox community. Role models who exhibit the right behavior are much more powerful than texts that explain proper religious conduct.

I think what Rabbi Kroll says here is very important and has practical implications. As much as we would love to create programs that focus on the meaning of Judaism, we can’t assume that they are the antidote. I have experienced many times that I have prepared a meaningful unit/discussion topic that I thought would pique some sort of existential interest, and the reaction was “eh.”

As Rabbi Kroll points out, the capacity and drive to truly understand religion is not necessarily shared by all of our students. That being the case, we must be extra-careful to set a positive example of mitzvah observance, and to convey the right attitude during our informal interactions. It may be these moments that have the greatest impact.

I was also forwarded additional comments from someone who took this problem further. He felt (and I tend to agree) that to teach "the basics of Judaism" is not as easy as it sounds. There are a multitude of issues that can prevent teaching these subjects properly (including time constraints, student maturity, and environment), and we must be aware of them before embarking on such an endeavor. As he points out "it is not better to teach the basics of Judaism than to teach them poorly." We should only be addressing these topics if we can give them the proper treatment.

Going forward, we really must ask ourselves which concepts are really meaningful to students at certain ages and which concepts might be pointless or even damaging to teach. Can anyone out there share topics that in their teaching experiences have been successful or not?

More on this to come.

All We Need is Just a Little Patience

Bad teeth are a curse. Trust me on that; I am the proud owner of more than 30 fillings. However, there is a very important lesson we can learn from bad teeth (besides the importance of flossing). That lesson is to think about the future.

Anyone who wasn't unconscious for the first eleven years of their life knows that we get two sets of teeth. Having a first set is very practical; it serves as a chinuch set. Children learn about dental hygiene from their first set. They are taught how to take care of their teeth and that orange juice tastes nasty after brushing. They learn about the decay incurred by neglecting their teeth, and about the resulting pain that follows.

However, after ten or so years of learning about their teeth, a funny thing happens. G-d says: "Hey kid, you know those teeth you ruined with candy? You know those teeth you practiced on? I'm going to take them away and give you a new set on which to display your newly acquired dental skills." What a relief. Can you imagine if other things in life worked that way? Wouldn't it be great if you could just say, "Well even though I just messed this up, it doesn't matter, as long as I get it right later on?"

When it comes to chinuch, this is the attitude that we generally need. I had this thought the other day when dealing with my oldest daughter (she's four). Recently, she has become very difficult at bedtime. She is now a brown-belt in manipulative behavior, and her weapons of choice are the phrases "but that's not fair!" and "but I want to tell mommy one more thing!" Once I realized this was becoming a real problem, I began with the I-cannot-allow-her-to-think-she-can-get-away-with-murder approach. Meaning, I spoke sternly, sometimes raising my voice, and used threats. My reasoning was simple: I want my children to "do the right thing" and in this case that means going to sleep on time and listening to Mommy and Daddy.

Suddenly, I had this epiphany: I should only be concerned with how my daughter will turn out in the future, not what she is doing now. So what if she is staying up a late and giving us a hard time? If she’s normally a good kid, then there's no reason to panic. Just think about the positive effects that will result from us showing her patience and understanding instead of discipline.

The art of patience is crucial in both raising children and chinuch in schools. A major obstacle in the world of chinuch is how desperate many of us feel to have our students doing the right thing as soon as possible. We get upset when our students won't daven and we panic when they don't eat kosher. We worry when boys and girls touch. So we take it upon ourselves to band-aid these problems. We force our boys to wear tefillin, and tell our girls how to dress. We sermonize and preach at best, and punish and threaten at worst. So much time and energy is put in to strategies that lead to nowhere but frustration.

This problem exists on a more subtle level as well. Due to our desperation, we often deliver messages, without even realizing, in ways that are less than ideal. Who hasn't at some point in their career told a kid to "talk like a Jew" or told a girl to "dress like a bas torah" or said to a student "did you put on your underwear this morning? Yes? So how could you forget tzitzis which are much more important?" The common theme to these statements is that they express complicated and important messages in an overly-concise manner and are therefore rendered ineffective.

The consequences of delivering messages in such a manner are more devastating than one might think. Students feel patronized and therefore become jaded to religion and to their teachers as well. Also, these young men and women are unconsciously being taught that Judaism lacks reason for the rituals and that superficial explanation should suffice to motivate religious practice. Not a pleasant dynamic to have floating around your school or home.

So if you got your students to eat kosher for a week with some story about a guy who miraculously recovered from dysentery when he decided to stop eating shellfish, great for you. Not so great for your students who still have no idea about why they are keeping this halacha.

To an extent, we are better off letting the girls dress as they want, the boys talk as they want, and letting everybody eat what they want. If we create respectful and engaging atmospheres in our schools, I believe we can do so much more. Enough playing big-brother, let's discuss these matters respectfully and give them the proper treatment. Enough with the paranoia; let's get back to teaching.

Getting back to our original point, this is all about patience. No one can claim to really know what inspires one person and turns another person off. No one can claim the magic formula to mold disinterested Jewish souls into permanently committed Jews. Our ignorance of these matters must compel us to stop forcing religion down the throats of our young men and women. We can't get sidetracked by the fact that many of them are starting off way behind in the race to religious commitment. Like with teeth, we have to chalk up their current level of commitment to the learning curve which will improve, albeit not at the “ideal” rate. With the right amount of understanding, open dialogue and encouragement, we can do a lot more to bolster our future. Just give it some time.

For all those who think teaching is a joke, consider this.

Imagine your job description is the following:

Every day at your company, you are responsible for conducting meetings and presentations.

For each meeting: You must prepare the agenda and the proper materials to keep the meeting on track. You will also be responsible to moderate and mediate meetings, deciding who talks, for how long, and on what subject.

For each presentation: You are responsible to present all information in a way that is clear and understandable for all involved. You must use visuals, manipulatives, and handouts for every presentation. If you do not have enough time at work to complete these presentations, they must be organized at home. Those attending the meeting will all have different levels of understanding of company practice and policy, so you must arrange your presentation so that everyone attending understands at their level and is not bored.

You must conduct a combination of 6 to 10 meetings and presentations a day for 45 minutes each.

Additionally, most meetings and presentations will not be attended by highly motivated company executives and employees. Rather, the least motivated employees in the company will be attending. But don't forget, you are still required to keep their attention and teach them something meaningful that they can use to help the company. Each employee that attends your meeting will be graded based on how well they implemented the information from your presentation or meeting, and that will reflect on you are viewed within the company as well.

One more catch: Many of those attending your meetings have unionized jobs. Therefore, they have no real motivation to contribute to these meetings constructively, as it is impossible to fire them. Additionally, they may disrupt your meetings at any given time, due to their lack of external motivation.

A little nuance here and there, and you have teaching.

Sound easy?

New Blog

Right on cue from my last post, a new blog, Thinking About Chinuch has popped up. Looks promising.

Jewish Education: Does anybody really care?

If this blog was qualitatively ranked among the Jewish blogs out there, it would place somewhere between minimally-impactful and nonexistent. Then if it were to be listed among the Orthodox Jewish blogs, it might rank as quasi-significant. However, if we altered this list to include only the Orthodox Jewish blogs about education, I could probably call this blog Adventures in Chuffington Post.

In case you think I am exaggerating, over at lookstein.org, there is a blogroll of Jewish education blogs. The list has a total of 50 blogs, and that includes non-Orthodox blogs and a bunch of blogs that aren't really about education per se. That leaves very few Orthodox blogs that deal with what should be one of the most crucial issues within our community.

My first instinct tells me that the lack of publishing represents a lack of a market. How many people are writing about topics that people aren't interested in reading about? Even if there is another explanation, I will choose to ignore it because this explanation works well with want I want to write about:

Tuition is, and has been, the talk of the town for years. You've heard all the questions, complaints, and suggestions, and I won't rehash them hear. It always struck me as interesting that I rarely have seen an article asking "we pay so much for schools, but are we getting our money's worth?" it just seems that our communities are not concerned with what schools are doing to educate our youth and prepare them for the future as Jews. Why the lack of interest?

This problem generally stems from simple ignorance. My assumption (I would love to find out that I am wrong) is that most of our community members barely give thought the different goals that can be established by our schools. Now, such ignorance of school practices may seem well-rationalized; most people cannot claim to be experts or near-experts in educational practice. Therefore, the claim can be made that the layperson has no business discussing and influencing matters related to education. Fund-raising, sure. Budget, sure. Special events, mishloach manos, sure and sure. But not education.

The truth however, is the opposite. Parents and community leaders should be included in the discussion as to what the schools' goals should be. What do we want our kids knowing when graduate? What skills should they have? What lessons should they have learned? What direction are they being pointed in. These questions are all answerable by a seriously-thinking person. Educational methods, maybe not so much. But definitely the goals.

Just to be straight, I am not advocating parental control over schools. I am simply stating that parents and other community members should feel comfortable (respectfully) voicing their opinions as to what their children are being taught.

Great, we have a plan! Let's encourage parents to advocate for what they believe is the best education plan for their children! Let's set up meetings between school administration and parent representative to hash out these issues! Let's create constructive dialogue which will lead to meaningful change!

Woah, not so fast. The next question to ask is "does anybody really care?" Do parents simply want to drop their kids off at school, and pick them up 12 years later? Do they view loving Israel and speaking a manageable Hebrew the only essentials, with everything else secondary and arbitrary? Unfortunately, the impression from many parents and communities is that they would answer these questions "no,yes,and yes" (this is leaving secular studies out of the discussion, of course).

Having a concerned community is essential to creating significant change in education. To avoid creating can't-name-all-the-Hebrew-months-or-read-a-passuk-by-the-time-they-graduate, and hopefully-they-will-learn-something-in-Israel stereotypes, we need parents and community members to display the sentiment that a good Jewish education is important. As long as this is not the case, our schools will lag behind because they can. Teaching methods won't change because there is no pressure to. Rebbeim who sit on their tuchuses for an ninety minutes straight will continue to teach your children.

I believe that the current climate is one ready for change. The forthcoming generation of Orthodox Jewish parents, in which I include myself, are in many ways different from our parents. We have experienced Torah-learning in quantity and quality that is unprecedented. We do not have the same concerns of Jewish identity in America that previous generations struggled with. Many of us understand how to balance serious Torah-learning with a "normal" lifestyle. If we don't demand that schools meet our criteria for a meaningful Jewish life, and if we allow inertia to be the deciding force in our children's education, we will have failed miserably.

Please leave any thoughts in the comments. And if you have no thoughts on the subject, it's time to get some.

To Educate or Inspire? (Part II)

In our last (serious) post, we discussed the question of whether the priorities of Jewish educators should be to inspire their students to greater appreciation for and observance of Torah and Mitzvos or to provide them the skills they need to learn on their own. For the sake of brevity (I always wanted to say that) the first approach will be called "to inspire" and the second, "to educate."

We also established that education and inspiration are mostly exclusive concepts. Students can be "taught" and inspired at the same time, but most of that teaching would be information. To illustrate, teaching a Torah from the Kedushas Levi may inspire someone who may be feeling a bit down, and that person now may know a new explanation for three different pesukim and a Gemara, but they haven't learned anything they can apply to their future learning. On the other hand, if a student is taught that "Ta Shma" always means that the Gemara is now going to quote a statement from elsewhere to prove a point, they may not break into song, but they now have another tool for deciphering a Gemara on their own.

So, what is the answer? Don't know, but here are my thoughts:

I believe that the default is that we are educators first. We are only asking about inspiring vs. educating because there is a dire need for both. Unfortunately, most of our students enter our schools with minimal appreciation for Judaism and its practices. Had this not been the case, the question would be moot; they would already be inspired or at least inspired enough. Then, we could actually get to educating, which is exactly what schools are made for. Hence, the burden of proof is on inspiration.

I also think that our focus should always be on fulfilling our role; it's what we are set up to do. Because education is our baseline, our schools are designed for success in those areas. Tests, classes, and homework do not add up to inspiration. Neither do attendance, detention, and grades. Teachers are trained as educators, not as social workers, public speakers, or marketing experts. In such a framework, inspiration cannot be the norm. Schools require the discipline to succeed that an inspiration-focused institution would require the lack of. Ask any teacher who decided to spend the morning shmoozing or having an "ask the Rebbe" session how long it lasted before the kids lost interest, and how hard it was to get them back into education mode.

Wasting time aside, the framework of school often undermines the inspiration as well. A teacher or Rebbe may be inspiring in class, but what if a student fails his or her tests? A failing grade can cancels out a lot of the good feeling. In short, if we focus on inspiring in schools, chances are we will be losing out on both ends, and mediocrity will become the best we can hope for.

So why no start schools that are completely inspiration-based? What about starting a TANCSY or NCSYHA? The answer is simple; it wouldn't work. Kids don't respond without a structured framework involving accountability. Additionally, nobody (or group of people) can possibly muster up enough energy to inspire or be inspired for 3 hours every day. People go to lectures, concerts, or weekends to be inspired. These last hours or sometimes days, but definitely not years.

Despite all these points, there are other factors as well. Education is a viable process only within a structured environment. Inspiration, on the other hand can come from anywhere at any time. Often, the missing ingredient is simply maturity. The chances that a student who is educated to become inspired later on (or from a different venue while still in school) is exponentially greater than the chances a student who was little self-learning skills will pick these skills up later in life.

Contrary to what the last point represents, the decision to educate isn't a probability-based decision alone. Yes, we argued that educating is more efficient use of time than inspiring. Yes, we argued that inspiration has a better chance of happening outside of school than education. Add those two arguments together and the decision to educate is simple, but only as good advice for maximizing our bets. If someone wanted to get risky however, they could go the inspiration route. But there is one point that goes beyond this. The clincher is that the ability to learn and develop unique thoughts on one's own is as integral to staying inspired than any emotional inspiration.

To simply illustrate the last point, take the male post-Israel college student. (I don't have enough knowledge about the experiences of the other half of the population). From my experience it seems that the student best suited to stay on course is the one that can learn on his own and/or develop unique Torah thoughts. I have seen many friends, acquaintances, and enemies go "off the derech." Most of these people had (and obviously still have) little to no ability to learn on their own. (There are other people who I can think of for whom it would have gone differently had they not been able to learn a page of Gemara by themselves.

The reason for this is three-fold. Firstly, and most simply, when someone can learn on their own, the opportunities for involvement in religion multiplies immensely. Secondly, for a person to truly feel like a member of a club, they must feel as if they giving as much as they are taking. Therefore, someone who cannot learn well on their own, will constantly feel as if they are getting without giving and can not truly feel as a part of the growth-oriented klal (a noted exception would be anyone seriously involved in chessed). Thirdly, there exists a drive within every human being to be creative. Fulfilling this desire in some way is necessary for us to feel accomplished a people. This is not a trick of the yetzer hara.

So, within the context of Judaism, the realm in which we as Jews are supposed to find meaning, it is crucial that the average Jew feel like an accomplisher. Granted, this can mean many things. However, the most accessible way is through learning, which can be done by almost anyone if their education is properly tailored.

Bottom line: I believe that overall, the model in the Modern Orthodox world is broken. Most students lack dedication to an appreciation for Orthodox Judaism. Therefore, we as educators feel burdened with a dual responsibility, to educate and to inspire. However, I believe that if we lose sight of our primary goal of education, then we will be losing out in all areas. We must do our best to educate our students, all the while creating alliances with parents and communities to properly address our goal of creating well-rounded young men and women.

Top Ten (Eleven) Comments I Had to Omit from Report Cards

...I'm doing them right now

11. Your son would have earned a better grade with more studying and less pornography watching (already used on Twitter)

10. Your son doesn't treat school seriously because neither do you

9. Lobotomy was not the best idea.

8. Student is not working to his potential (I just hate that one...so cliche).

7. Your child has inspired me to daven better....for snow days.

6. Hey mom and dad, watch this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7RKQRVn4NAs

5. I made your son's grade up because I lost his final.

4. I am constantly weighing the con of losing my job vs. the pro of punching your son in the face.

3. Unfortunately, I cannot reveal which faculty member nicknamed your child "The next Billy Madison."

2. Student has a bright future. Wait, is "failing miserably" an occupation?

1. At least there's always Kollel.

To Educate or to Inspire?

Although this question may seem easily answered with the word "both," such a response would indicate a certain misconception regarding what goes on (and about what should go on) in a classroom. Let me explain:

I was given food for thought recently (not that my hiatus from blogging was the result of a hiatus from thinking) when hearing a colleague of mine lament about one of his classes: "I can inspire my guys, I can be m'karev them, but I can't teach them." What did he mean by that? Why can't he do both? Why not teach inspiring material? Why not read cool midrashim on Megillas Esther or Hassidic tales from the Holocaust, or some book by Dr. Twerski on Judaism? That way they can be inspired and taught!

In fact, inspiration and education are often as diametrically opposite as (insert witty analogy here). What many don't realize is that education does not mean to "teach information." To educate is to provide your students with the skills they need to further educate themselves. So reading inspiring stories, and learning about inspiring people, may be nice, but they in no way help a student gain the necessary tools to learn on their own.

Taking this further, the same can be said about the most common approach to teaching Tanach (this may sound familiar to many who have gone to school):

Step One: "who wants to read passuk gimmel?"

Step Two: "okay, no volunteers except annoying kid that always raises his hand? David, you read."

Step Three: "What's that David, you don't do reading? Okay Jonny read."

Step Four: "Jonny doesn't have the page. Jonny doesn't even have a chumash. Okay annoying kid, you read."

Step Five: "Who has any questions on this passuk? Nobody? Okay let's read Rashi."

Step Six: "Can anyone tell me Rashi's question?"

Step Seven: "No, none of those are even close to Rashi's question. Did anyone learn anything this year?"

Step Eight: "Here is Rashi's question with three more answers. Write them all down in the column next to the vocabulary words"

Step Nine: Wash, rinse, repeat.

Even if each student in this (not-so-far-from) fictional class remember what happens in each passuk and can tell you every one of Rashi's questions and three approaches to answer each one, they have done nothing but memorized a giant bar-mitzvah speech.

Additionally, if a teacher were to teach every single one of these pesukim with an inspiring story with a meaningful message, and their students actually remember the message and take it to heart, this teacher still would not have done their best to educate.

In my mind, the focus of education must be empower students to learn on their own. Teaching knowledge is important as well and has its place in the classroom. However, "to what extent?" is the question.

If, in fact, educating and teaching knowledge are totally different, we can understand the claim that certain students are more easily inspired than educated. It also leaves is with a tremendous challenge: What should we, as teachers, place most of our emphasis? To me, this is one of the most important questions for anyone in chinuch, interested in chinuch, or paying for their children's chinuch to answer.