The REAL Questions We Should Be Asking

Many religious schools I know are struggling to retain teens as part of their educational programs, once they pass the bar- or bat-mitzvah milestone.

They’re trying

• more content
• less content
• more frequent meetings
• less frequent meetings
• retreats in lieu of some classes
• retreats in addition to class
• to give “credit” for volunteer work, youth group activities
• to make programs more rigorous
• to make programs more “social”
• making meals part of the program (If you feed them, they will come!)
  

What I seldom hear is a discussion articulating the relevance of the program offerings.

We talk about what teens will learn. We spend a great deal of time deciding who will teach them. We seriously consider methodology. We evaluate the structure in an attempt to meet their scheduling constraints. "Who, what, where and when" - that's our focus.

But, do we tell them why it’s important to learn what we want them to know? Do we specify the connection to their daily lives?

My friend and colleague, Marc Kay, challenges us: “So what?” Why does what we are teaching matter? What's the relevance?

We may have (in our own minds) an answer to that question, BUT do we share that insight with our students?

I remember asking Mr. McNaughton, in advanced algebra (back in the dark ages), why we needed to learn how to operate a slide rule. “At some point,” he assured us, “we’d need to be able to do complex calculations and this was the most accurate way to do them.”

(Does anyone out there even remember a slide rule? Or how to use it?)

Hopefully, the knowledge, values and experiences we’re trying to get our teens to grapple with have relevance for them in their lives TODAY, as well as in the future.

"So what" should be the first question we ask, not the last.

Relationships

I've been heavily involved in a number of "professional development" endeavors this fall. Many of them focus on topics such as "enduring understandings," or "student engagement," or "deep learning." We've talked about "backwards design," "strategies for diverse learners," "ongoing assessment" and "evidence of learning."

About midway through the fall, it occurred to me that there is/was a key element that wasn't being mentioned in these discussions. I'm still not sure whether in our search for something that will work, it was overlooked entirely or it was an unarticulated assumption. I'm hoping it was the latter; I'm suspecting it was the former.

What AM I talking about?

The keystone we need to remember in working with learners of all ages is the importance of the personal relationship the teacher/facilitator must establish with each learner in his/her group, as well as the relationships the individual group members must establish with each other.

We often get so focused on our content that we lose sight of the individuals in front of us and who they are as people - not just in their role as learners.

We try to cram so much in that we neglect to take the time to establish a relationship.

My experience indicates that by trying to "save" time by jumping into content without building the relationship, the content remains disconnected from the lives of our students.

I've done a number of training sessions in the last six months - some have been part of a series, some were single-session events. In both cases, when I have compared notes with other presenters (at single-session events, for example), one thing stands out. In the groups where the presenters have taken the time to establish a sense of community and relationships, the quality of interactions and the quantity of knowledge (measured in depth instead of breadth) are increased markedly. This shows up in exit sheets or session evaluations.

In situations where the relationship is on-going (e.g., a class or series of workshops), establishing a relationship is the first critical piece in making the environment a safe one in which people can ask questions, express their own opinions, and be open to looking at information in a new way.

I'm teaching a class of madrichim - a great group of young people. After a three-week hiatus for winter break, I wanted to provide an opportunity for us to re-connect with each other. I introduced an activity I've used with other classes, which we've typically called "Roses and Thorns." Each participant shares one positive thing that happened since we've seen each other last - and one challenge or difficulty they're dealing with. My hesitation was that sometimes this exercise can expand to fill the entire class time. And we did have so much we needed to cover that day!

I decided to use visuals as a means of helping keep us focused. However, in my stash of materials, I couldn't find a fake rose. So I used an "apple" and a "lemon" - fake food items used in decorating my succah in years past - and renamed the activity "Apples and Lemons." Students were given an option to share their thoughts or to pass. Most chose to share.

It was a wonderful experience. Holding the objects seemed to keep us all focused and our comments relatively brief. We all learned more about what's going on with each other in our "real lives." Our subsequent discussions and learning also seemed to be better focused and less "frantic." We've spent time on previous occasions sharing information with each other - but this opportunity exceeded my expectations. We'll definitely do it again.

I also taught a group of a adult learners, about half of whom are beginning their Jewish teaching experiences. The remainder of the class has significant years of experience. The challenge was to establish a sense of community so that our learning experience together is enhanced and personal. As I searched for a new "ice breaker," I settled on a think-pair-share activity in which partners described both their favorite teacher ever - AND their least favorite teacher, providing reasons for each selection. Each person shared their partner's responses with the group.

This experience, too, was a profound one for the group. Individuals connected with each other and talked one-on-one about successes and failures they'd experienced in a classroom. Partners shared abridged information with the whole group, uniformly treading gently and respectfully as they shared about their partner's difficulties with their least favorite teacher. The class as a whole learned that they share a value for certain characteristics in educational leaders - and grimmaced in empathy as people discussed the characteristics of their least favorite teacher. Subsequent discussions reached an honest depth that often doesn't occur with a group that's just beginning its work together.

Taken together - what do these experiences reinforce for me? That it's critical to spend the time developing relationships with the individuals I teach.

The old adage rings true: They [students] don't care how much you know, until they know how much you care.

Only after they know how much we care, can we help them "engage" in "enduring understandings" and "deep learning."

JNF's New "Big Blue Box"

Before we left S'derot with Karyn London, we decided to try and find the new indoor playground in S'derot. We asked someone for directions and were told "Look for the big blue box." Sure enough, we found it at the end of the street!

The inside of the building was just as welcoming as the entrance - and even more amazing!

There were areas for little kids to play "pretend" and to jump and roll around;

DDR stations; basket ball hoops and punching bags; a half-length soccer field with goals;

a climbing wall; a fuse-ball (!) table; and even a separate space for teens to have dances!

For so many of the kids (who are struggling with PTSD), perhaps the most important space was this one:

a place where parents can hang out comfortably, yet be in clear view of their children!

The facility has a computer room, an arts and crafts room, party rooms (one with "boy" decor and one with "girl" decor), and a comfortable area to have snacks.

As you can see, the colors are bright and cheerful; the facility is well lit; and kids can do the running and jumping and bouncing that kids need to do.

What you don't see is how the building has been reinforced. Not only has extra reinforcement been added to the structure itself, but each individual room within the "big blue box" has been reinforced as if it were a stand-alone bomb shelter. It's that extra that makes the kids -- and their families -- feel secure here.

I used to think JNF's job was growing trees. I guess they're in the business of "growing kids," too.

For more information about the Sderot Indoor Recreation Center, click here.

Pluralism in Israel?

Rabbi Michael Marmur, the Reform Rabbi who gave the d'var torah the Shabbat that we were in Jerusalem, has some interesting comments on the issue of pluralism in Israel in a Thursday, July 30th blog for the Jerusalem Post. One of the key paragraphs is as follows:

In one session, a panel comprising principals from four Israeli schools discussed dilemmas of pluralism as they encounter them every day in the field. It is interesting to note that this discussion included important figures from the Modern Orthodox community, as well as the "usual suspects." Increasingly, it is becoming clear that the divisions in Israeli society are not between those who belong to one team and those who belong to another - the Sharks against the Jets, Middle East Side Story. Rather, the conflict is between those who insist on imposing their will exclusively on the rest of us, and those of us who prefer to live in the midst of difference and diversity.

Read the whole thing and tell me what you think!

Thanks, Neal, for sending the link!

A New State in an Ancient Land

The Palmach Museum, which Neal and I visited on Monday, July 21st, had been on several "must-see/do" lists we got from friends while planning our travels. Our son actually said, "If you don't do anything else, you have to go to the Palmach." Pretty high praise indeed.

So a few words of context:

The Palmach was one of the groups that formed during the British Mandate to begin to prepare an Army to fight for Israel's independence. (A couple of other names that might be familiar: the Irgun, the Hagannah, the Stern Gang). All of these organizations fell somewhere along the spectrum of independence fighters. Some were more radical than others and functioned along the lines of the Sons of Liberty (from America's pre-Independence War Days).

The Museum itself requires admission tickets for a specific time of day; the tour lasts for 90 minutes; group size is limited; and the visitors receive a recorded translation of the Hebrew keyed to the specific information at each given display or exhibit.

Much like the American Holocaust Memorial Museum's "Daniel's Story," the Palmach Museum uses a group of individuals to represent the living history of the time period under discussion. This story focuses on a group of approximately 8-10 older teens or 20-somethings who become a small unit in the late 1930's or early 40's. The exhibit traces their growth and development both as individuals and as a unit, representing the hundreds of young men and women who had similar experiences during these years.

Each display area included life-sized models, usually behind a black transparent curtain, arranged in a "typical" staging; with black and white videos of the characters shown either behind the scene or on an adjacent background. The area in which the museum visitors stand also has props and scenery which evoke the setting. One of the scenes actually has a model whose facial features (and mouth!) move in response to the audio recording.

The entry point and exit point are through the same room: a dimly lit room, with the names of all the Palmach soldiers who died in the fight for Israel's freedom etched into a glass counter-high display that is parallel to three of the four sides of the room. The counter is uplit in green. Each name is provided, without rank or other destinguishing feature, so that each individual's contribution (his/her life) is equal to every other individual's contribution.

On the wall, in white, lit-up Hebrew and English letters are the words of the Israeli poet, Nathan Alterman:

We
Are the silver platter
On which the Jews' state
Was presented today

It was a "nice, thematic, expression" as we walked into the exhibit area. As we came out, we read those words again, which had become more heavily charged with meaning as a result of what we had experienced.

===========

Reactions? Many, deeply felt; interwoven typically with my own experiential filters through which I (we all?) try to make sense of new information.

I am 56 years years old. Although we lived for a short time in Madison (from 9/65-2/69), most of my formative years were spent in the small towns and farmlands of midstate Wisconsin.

The Gulf of Tonkin Resolution was passed by Congress in August 1964, giving LBJ the authority to wage war in Vietnam. I was 11 and a half. A scant two years later, a family friend was on the front lines in DaNang and Hue. Although we were terrified for him, he was convinced that being an American meant being willing to be part of her armed services. Dennis was followed by Tim a few years later (in 1971).

Tim's unit was adopted by my dormitory floor -- and we wrote regularly to let them know of our support. Many of them, by that time, had questions about whether the US should be in Vietnam. Tim felt - more than anything - that we were blessed to have a country where freedom played such a primary role and that he had an individual responsibility to try to help straighten out the corruption in South Vietnam so that her people could have the same right to freedom that we have. We corresponded for the entire two years he was overseas and remained in touch until I moved east in 1976.

When I moved to the East Coast, I discovered that the pervasive expression on the War was that the US government was evil, that the soldiers that fought in her army were all baby-killers and that any American who was really patriotic should have rioted in protest or gone to Canada.

It seemed to me then, as it does now, that that's a far too simplistic response. Many of the young men I knew - Dennis, Tim, Chuck, Dan and others - had a deep and abiding love for this country: her physical land, the principles upon which she was built; and the freedoms they inherited as a result of sacrifices made by earlier Americans. They didn't necessarily agree with the politics or the implementation of the war. They were dehumanized by the protestors and paid a price for that demonization when they returned from their service.

What does that filter have to do with our experience at the Palmach Museum?

The young actors depicted in the exhibts were roughly the ages of my young friends who served in 'Nam roughly 40 years ago. The discussions they had about the "rightness" of what they were doing - the desire to establish a homeland where all Jews could be free to be Jewish - included echoes from the dialogues I participated in with my friends slightly more than a generation ago.

One of the exchanges from the movie that particularly resonnated with me was this one:

Soldier: Sir, we find ourselves in control of several hostages. What should we do with them?"
Commander (pauses, then says quietly): Whatever you think you should do.

Some of the activities shown in this exhibit include blowing up bridges and train tracks; bombing hotels; attacking villages to protect farmers living near by. I can't help but wonder whether the label "terrorist" depends in part on where one is sitting: some of these actions are similar to ones the Palestinians engage in these days.

As I was trying to sort through these memories and impressions, Neal helped me put some of it in perspective. He reminded me that every group, every country, every civilization has its own "creation story:" stories of heroism and decision that describe "how they came to be." In time, those stories become part of the shared memories and help bind the group together.

Ultimately, his comment made me realize how "detached" in many ways I am from our American experience of grasping freedom. The re-enactors at Williamsburg seem "quaint" to me. Our Israeli experience is so new, that it jars and has an immediacy that our American experience no longer has. Our "creation story" has already been codified. Israel's is still being written.

Sometimes I think we forget that although eretz Israel / the land of Israel is an ancient one, Medinat Israel / the State of Israel is still in the process of becoming.

Postscript: I just discovered this summer, while home for my mother's funeral, that Tim committed suicide within the last several years. He never quite "got over" his Vietnam experiences. Had his service been more recent, I think he might have been able to get treatment for his PTSD. May his memory be for a blessing.

History - and Making History!

Today was a very long, full day. From the beginning, Neal and I had talked about doing a one-day guided trip once we got to Tel Aviv. When we arrived, we looked at the brochures in the lobby - talked about options and decided to take a one-day trip up the northern coast of Israel. Today was the day.

We left the hotel at 7:15 am. That's right: 7:15 In. The. Morning. (Those of you that know me really well can quit smirking now - or your face just might freeze with that expression!).

Our group was small - about 11 people on a huge charter/tour bus. We actually got sorted out and on the road about 8:00 am and headed north of Tel Aviv to Caesarea, site of ancient Roman ruins (built during the time of Herod) and Byzantine ruins. The tour itself was an hour - we saw Herod's palace, an excavated market place along the Cardo (generic name, we learned, for the main north-south road of any town the Romans built), an ampitheater, a hippodrome (used for races) and a whole bunch of other stuff. The mosaics were still in pretty good shape in many places - Neal got some great pictures. The views of the Mediterranean from different points were absolutely gorgeous. It was a lot of walking - all out in the hot sun on sandy, gritty paths.

After an hour of walking, it was a relief to get back to the bus. It was air conditioned and the a/c worked great!

From Caesarea, we went north through the Carmel vineyards and fields to Acco (aka "Acre"), site of Crusader and, later, Turkish ruins. This was a longer walk - almost two hours - and included both interior and exterior segments. Perhaps the most interesting was seeing examples of where more recent builders had built on top of the Turkish ruins which were built on top of the Crusader ruins. Unfortunately, we didn't manage to get any written materials, so I'm rapidly forgetting what we "learned" earlier: I'm not an auditory learner.

By this time, it was 1:00 and really, really, really hot. Did I mention that the bus had a great a/c system? And that it worked really, really well?

After Acco, we had a quick lunch and then drove north to Rosh HaNikra - at the Israel/Lebanon border. Our guide explained that there were 120 km between the boarder and Beirut -- and that between the two was "no man's land" where there was no government authority to let people cross the board. We couldn't actually see into Lebanon (I remember when Neal's mom and dad went to Israel many years ago, they were able to go into the Golan Heights and look down on Lebanon), but we did see a guard at the security station.

The other part of this stop was a trip through the grottos formed by the Mediterranean Sea pounding against the land and rock outcroppings for thousands of years.

That was actually my least favorite part of the whole tour - it was hot, very humid, loud, the stones were slippery and I was afraid of falling, and there were parts where I got really claustrophobic (a phobia that seems to have developed since I moved away from the wide, open spaces of Wisconsin). It took about 45 minutes to go through the grottos - next time, I'll sit in the coffee bar and wait for the group to rejoin me!

By this time, it was after 3:00 and the heat was really getting to me. Did I mention that the bus had a great a/c system? And that it worked really, really well?

On our way back to Tel Aviv - we stopped all too briefly in Haifa. We drove to the top of Mount Carmel, got out of the bus for about 10 minutes to look down on the Baha'i Temple and the German Quarter and then were rushed back into the bus. I didn't even really have a chance to get hot!

Got back to Tel Aviv about 6:30 - hot, exhausted, thirsty (despite the water we kept guzzling all afternoon). After a quick shower and brief rest - we headed to the Port of Tel Aviv for a wonderful dinner of kabobs and a great assortment of salads.

============

So that was the "history" part of the day.

There actually was a "history in the making" piece as well.

One of the couples on the tour that we gravitated towards was Susan and Steve Grad, from LA. Steve is actually here in Israel on business and they were able to get away for the first time since around the 7th or 8th of July, I think they said, to spend a day just touring.

Steve Grad, you see, is a sports reporter, here in Israel for the 18th Maccabiah Games. The Games provide a chance for Jewish athletes from around the world to compete against each other. Like the Olympics, they're held every four years.

Steve's reporting for the Jewish Life TV . Okay, that's cool enough - but what's REALLY awesome is that this is the first time that the games have been broadcast outside of Israel.

I looked at him and said, "You mean this has never been done before?" He said it hadn't and talked about some of the logistics that went into having all the pieces come together so that it could be done this year. I looked at him, stunned, and said very slowly, "You're making history." And I thought of all the kids I've taught throughout the years who would have been absolutely thrilled to have been in my shoes today and have a chance to talk to Steve about what he's doing.

What struck me profoundly was the juxtaposition - we spent the day together, exploring antiquities - ruins and mosaics and grottos and stones - while at the same time one of the participants was a part of history being made: the land is ancient, but the state is still so relatively young.

Amazing... simply amazing.

So here's to Susan and Steve - thanks for letting us share in your special time this week. When you come to the DC area, please look us up.

Shabbat - A Time for Reflection

We slept in Saturday morning (and loved every minute of it). Having decided to participate in the Reconstructionist minyan meeting at HUC (Hebrew Union College) just a block away from our hotel (the Eldan), we got up in time for a quick breakfast here at the hotel before we left.

As we entered the gate at HUC, we could hear the singing wafting out into the entrance courtyard. A gentleman noticed our hesitation as we tried to figure out where the sound was coming from and asked if we were looking for the services. We answered affirmatively and he directed us in through a door and up a flight of steps.

As we approached, the sound of voices raised in song and joy swelled. We were greeted at the door and quickly found two adjacent seats on the right in the almost-filled room. As we settled in, I looked around and discovered - much to my delight - that a rabbi I'd worked with in the Washington area was davening just a couple of rows ahead! Ever since we'd planned this trip, friends had said to us - "You'll run into people you know, even if you don't think you'll know anyone in Jerusalem." Last night, it was Mark - today it was Rabbi Steve. It is truly a small world we live in!

In short order, I realized that the service was not the Reconstructionist one we'd hoped to attend, but rather a Reform one. Although initially disappointed (we'd hoped to connect with Charlie and Marilyn and a couple of others we thought might be there), we found ourselves absolutely uplifted by the singing, the communal participation and interaction, and the drash/words of Torah.

The drash was given by someone who's name we never quite caught. Obviously knowledgeable, he also had the gift of being a magnificent speaker. In short, his message for the day was threefold: 1) Don't look for the short cuts in your journeys (metaphorical or actual); 2) Stuff happens when you don't expect it to; and 3) It's not all about me.

Woven into his talk were references to the three weeks of mourning leading up to Tisha B'Av; Israeli current events [he cited the part from the Torah portion that delinates the Israelites' 42 stops from Egypt to Canaan and referenced the "pauses" to parking lots: a hot issue among the Haredi in Jerusalem these weeks]; some discussion of repetitions of specific words and inversions - and the interpretation he took from them; and allusions to the science fiction classic "The Fantastic Voyage" (made into a movie in 1966 starring Raquel Welch) to both begin and end his remarks.

Our experience with this community was absolutely what we needed this morning - and a good example of the "stuff happens when you don't expect it to!"

We caught the tail end of our hotel's brunch for our lunch and then came up to the room. After a nap, Neal went out to explore some more - I decided to stay in (in the a/c) and process some of the thoughts rolling around in my head after our visit to the Old City yesterday.

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It's taken me a bit of time to be able to articulate some of the thoughts and feelings rolling around in my head as we walked through parts of the Old City yesterday - especially our visit to the Kotel.

When Neal and Arnie joined me near the women's section, Arnie mentioned that he's observed over time that the impact of being in the Old City and at the Kotel doesn't always arrive instantaneously - and it's not always a religious impact. For some, he said, the impact is historical; for some it's religious; for some it's a sense of connection among people. I appreciated his comments immensely, because

[Deep breath here]

being at the Kotel left me cold.

My ability to participate fully in our people's "people-ness" is denied to me by the ultra-Orthodox who refuse to accept the signatures on my conversion papers.

Despite my attempts to undergo an "acceptable conversion," one of the rabbis who partipated in my bet din did not sign my papers before he left the mikvah that day. My papers instead include two "acceptable" signatures and the third is of my converting rabbi, Rabbi Eugene J. Lipman, z"l. I knew the instant I saw the papers, that my conversion would not be accepted. Neal and I subsequently arranged for our children to undergo a ritual immersion and conversion with acceptable signatores. I was proud that Gene's signature is on my certificate, but at the same time I didn't want to deprive my children of their Right of Return.

So here we are, 28 years later. Without boasting, I think I can honestly own that I've made signification contributions to our Jewish communal life, through my work as an educator, an administrator, a Jewish parent, a role model and a participant in the work of trying to bring repair to the world around us.

As I participated in the IEI (Israel Educators Institute) program these past 15 months, I've struggled with how I am perceived by segments of our people. It makes me angry. It makes me sad. It hurts.

But most of all, I don't understand why "the rest of us" - Conservative, Reform, Reconstructionist, Renewal - and all other Jews who don't choose to affilitate - allow a numerically small number of people to define who we are and how we are.

When did we cede the right to self-identification?

Or do we subconsciously agree that we "are not Jewish enough" -- allowing others to define the "enough?"

Prejudice and bigotry are ugly - even more so when practiced by one group of Jews against others and done in the name of the Eternal.

Oseh shalom bimromav, hu ya-aseh shalom. Aleinu v'al kol Israel. V'imru: Amen.

STW: Professional Implications

So, aside from the personal vindication I’ve felt since reading Supplementary Schools That Work, does this study have any relevance for us professionally?

I believe it does.

But not necessarily in the way that most of us seem to be connecting with initially.

It is absolutely a delight to see that A) there are schools that are successful; B) there are specific characteristics that can be attributed to successful schools; C) that those characteristics are not automatically outside our grasp; and D) that *all* schools, including successful ones, struggle to overcome the same barriers to success.

Those are important factors to consider as we look to objectively assess our programs, to build on the successes we’ve had, and to continually strive to improve.

But they’re not enough to ensure success…. Unless the foundational pieces are in place. Wertheimer calls these the “enabling factors.”

The report cites four conditions that need to exist if a school is to move into the “successful” category. In brief, they are as follows:

• Vision
• Collaborative Culture
• Communal support
• Lay involvement

As I’ve turned this report over and over during the past month, and examined it from multiple angles, it occurs to me that there are at least two levels on which these enabling factors can be examined: on the congregational level and on the school level. Ideally, the school is a subset of the congregation, so we visualize them as concentric circles, as below:

Let’s start with the outside circle and work our way to inner circle.

Congregational building pieces: Questions to answer
Does the congregation have a vision or mission statement? Does it include a description of the type of culture the organization hopes to create? What types of diversity are included in this description? What work will the community become involved with? Is the word “community” even used? How frequently are the vision statement and the goals of the congregation re-examined?

What evidence can one see to support the cultural goal of collaboration within the congregational community? [NOTE: to me, the word “collaboration” connotes a respectful exchange of ideas, mutual support for the tasks of individuals, and a willingness to establish a safe environment in which disagreement about ideas/practices/etc doesn’t become “disagreeable.”] Does that collaboration cross the lay-professional line? Does it occur within each constituency: lay leaders, professional staff, parents, etc? Is there evidence of reflective practice – individually and collectively – without blaming or finger pointing?

Is there a sense of being part of a “larger whole?” Does the congregation connect with others outside its walls? Is it affiliated with a movement? Does it engage in local and national Jewish communal work (ie, of the Federation, Jewish agencies, educational programs, youth groups)? How is it involved with Israel? Is it part of the local scene on both a Jewish and a secular level? Do the individual committees and affiliates act as if they understand how their involvement intermeshes with the goals and activities of the entire congregation? How are potential resources (internal and external) identified? Is this an ongoing endeavor process?

How are lay leaders groomed? Is there a “leadership track?” Is leadership training available? Are new members actively encouraged to become involve in leadership positions? Are their comments, observations, questions solicited and addressed respectfully? Do they understand the scope of the “job” they are being encouraged to undertake? Are they provided with the necessary supports as they begin to assume their responsibilities? Are lay leaders empowered to take ownership of the challenges involved in running a nonprofit organization? Are they empowered to actively search for solutions along with professional staff? Are there accountability measures in place?

School building pieces: Questions to answer

(many of the questions cited above also apply to schools within the congregational framework. Here are some additional ones to consider.)

Does the school have a vision or mission statement of its own? Does it refer back to the congregational statement? Are they aligned? Does it include desired outcomes? Methodology?

Is there a culture of collaboration among teaching staff? Professional staff and the education committee? Among professional staff and parents? Among classes? Among students within individual grades or rooms? Are individuals vested in the success of the entire school, and not just their particular students, grades, courses, etc? Is there opportunity for regular reflective practice by administrators, teachers, students, committee members, parents? Is the environment a “safe” one in which to ask questions or express a difference of opinion?

Is the school connected to congregational life? In ways that go beyond participation in services or consecration and b’nei mitzvah? Is there a congregational board liaison? Does that liaison have credibility with the larger board or is he/she seen primarily or exclusively as someone whose focus is limited to the school only, without being able to see the bigger, congregational, picture? Is the school connected to other religious schools – locally, nationally, within the movement or outside? Is it connected to other youth activity endeavors (youth group, etc)? Do teachers and administrators engage in regular professional development, both on-site and off? Are resources – specifically time and money – allocated to professional development?

Most lay leaders (although not all) initially get involved with the school because of a specific issue related to their child. However, are they eventually able to widen their focus on what’s beneficial for the entire community? Are they willing to offer specific talents and skills to support the educational program? Are they able to comment on the positives they/their children see or experience as well as address issues that need improvement? Are they in tune with the mission goals and objectives of the school? When a problem arises, are they willing to help search for solutions?

What happens if the congregation and school are not in harmony?

Then, I would suggest, there’s a mismatch.

Not every educator will work well in every congregational setting.

Not every congregation will remain consistent in its answers to these questions.

The guiding principle, I believe, must be a shared vision about what’s best for the kids: What kind of Jewish adults do we want them to grow into – and what do we believe is the best way to get there, given the constraints of time, energy, money, personnel?

STW: Personal Reaction - Part 2

As I shared last time, my adamant negation of the belief that “all-kids-hate-religious-school” was my introduction to formal Jewish education. In the period between the time we removed our kids from one religious school and enrolled them the following year in a different school, we made the decision that I would homeschool them. My purpose was to ensure that they understood that our dissention was with the individual institution, not with Jewish education or supplemental schools. Learning would take place regardless of the venue.

As I’d prepare each week for the next week’s lessons, I met a wonderfully helpful person at the local Board of Jewish Ed, who pointed me in the right direction for resources, answered questions I had, and was extremely supportive. As time went on, we got to know each other. In addition to her job at the BJE, she was also the part-time director of a religious school. After some time passed, she asked if I’d be interested in teaching in her school, explaining that she thought I’d be a good teacher because I was willing to ask questions, search for information and try to pull things together in an age-appropriate manner. After several conversations, much thought, and a visit to her school, I decided to accept her offer.

That was the beginning of my involvement as a Jewish communal worker.

Over the course of time, I became an even better teacher. It was Elissa who taught me about educational objectives and how to measure them; about reflective practice; and – most importantly – that it’s our work that should be taken seriously, not ourselves.

I tried to integrate the lessons I’d learned from my own children:

• that kids learn best by doing instead of sitting;
• that variety spices things up again;
• that transitions are difficult;
• that a classroom should be a safe place;
• that for most of us, hearing alone isn’t enough – we need to see, smell, touch, and taste, too!

Along the way, I continued to learn as much from my students (probably more) than they learned from me. There were transitional issues, to be sure (the “I don’t want to GO to religious school…”). However, once they crossed our threshold, for the most part, they were active and engaged (“but I don’t mind BEING there.”) In reviewing the list of characteristics that Wertheimer cites as indicative of successful schools, I see that all six of them were present in our classroom over the years: Together, my students and I

1. developed a community
2. took Jewish learning seriously
3. engaged in experiential Jewish education
4. aligned all of our efforts with our goals for the year
5. valued ourselves
6. regarded our families as allies (and, on my part, as clients – I was always conscious that their parents could have taken them to another school, but chose to enroll them in ours)

How do I know we were those things? Because each year, it was our practice at the end of the year to dissect what we had done, piece by piece. Because our classroom was a safe place, my students felt secure in offering honest feedback that, in turn, helped form my plans for the class following them. I still have the notes from those evaluation sessions. In reviewing them recently, I was struck anew by how many of them helped address the areas listed above.
I subsequently became a director of two different schools. At each school, we had a strong level of lay involvement and input. One program evolved into a successful one, by Wertheimer’s definition, while I was there; the other did not. What made the difference?

In one environment, the “enabling factors” – those foundation pieces that need to be in place in order for a school to be successful -- were firmed embedded in the practices of the organization. Those factors, again, are as follows:

• a clear vision and a path on how to achieve that vision
• a culture of collaboration and self-reflection
• the school and the synagogue worked together – neither was isolated or detached from the other
• lay leaders were involved cooperatively with the school and worked collaboratively with their professional staff to refine the objectives of the school.

Defining the characteristics of a successful school is important in being able to articulate why an institution is successful.

However, in my mind, the most critical part of Schools That Work is the identification of the foundation necessary in order for a program to be successful.

It answers some very basic questions about why a once-successful program sometimes becomes less successful over time or when there’s a change in leadership. It points out the difficulty of systemic change when two groups of key players (the lay leaders, and the parents) are frequently in flux. I believe that when these enabling factors are weakened or disappear, the likelihood of a school being able to maintain its innovative zest for learning becomes compromised. The school tends to slip back towards the more familiar middle-of-the-road because that’s a more comfortable place to be – for the administrators, teachers, lay leaders, and parents. I doubt that it’s more comfortable for the kids.

Next: professional implications for our schools/communities.

Schools That Work: Enabling Factors Graphic

We began this series with a discussion of the factors that need to be in place in order for a school to be successful.



Here's the graphic that illustrates that discussion:




Reactions/reflections next time!

Challenges Faced By STW: The Graphic

And here's a picture of the challenges facing all supplementary schools, including Schools That Work:






Given all these stresses, it's a wonder that even the mediocre schools manage to do as well as they do.

Characteristics of STW: The Graphic

So, here's the graphic that shows what the words said in the last blog.

As a visual learner, this helped me see the whole picture at one time. Remember, Wertheimer says no one characteristic is more important that the other - all are necessary in a balanced way.








Next up? Challenges facing supplementary schools

Update - Take 2

Okay, so the last post focused on what did work. Time to be honest: what didn’t work?

::sigh::

::Deep sigh::

Ok, so I should have *KNOWN* this.

The agenda for the third session was really content-heavy. In a little more than two hours, we hoped to “cover” the following:

Direct Instruction (Teacher Centered Approach)
Learning Centers (Learner Centered Approach)
Developing Rubrics
Energizing Classroom Discussions
Cooperative Learning

Let’s take a step back for a moment:

• Our “Big Ideas” for the class included 1) teaching-as-relationships; 2) articulating and sticking to your big idea; and 3) reflective practice.
• Even as late as the day before the first class, we were uncertain how many participants there would be – ten had expressed an interest, but only four had RSVP’d at that point.
• Consequently, we fleshed out the first two sessions pretty thoroughly, including a wide variety of interactive, different-style strategies. We were less thorough in outlining the last two, largely because there’s a world of difference in what you plan for four people instead of for ten people.
• The topics listed above were fairly “interactive” by their very nature.

BIG MISTAKE

We forgot one of those core truths we know so well and espouse all the time – even while we were teaching the above topic: LECTURING DOESN’T WORK. It doesn’t work for kids; it doesn’t work for teachers; and it doesn’t work for my colleague and me. IT DOESN’T WORK. Period. Full stop.

In my/our rush to convey as much “content” as possible, we forgot that core truth.

Within three minutes of beginning my intro to Learning Centers, I knew it was going poorly …. and I knew what I should have done instead. I was explaining (instead of showing) a technique to people who had no framework to put the information into. Given that the overwhelming majority of learners are visual (60% by some accounts) instead of auditory or kinesthetic – what was I thinking of?!? I cut my presentation short… and bounced the topics back to my colleague.

Now he “does” rubrics really well and is great at cooperative learning…. but our participants weren’t with us – they’d already checked out. From a vibrant, alive, energized group the preceding week, they had become transformed into a group of unresponsive chairwarmers, who kept looking at the clock. So very sad.

And we (my colleague and I) had turned them off ALL BY OURSELVES. We cut the class short – distributed evaluations – and barely waited until they were out of the room before we debriefed. We read their evaluations of the session - they were right on key.

The question rapidly became – how do we address this next week? Keeping in mind one of our Big Ideas was that reflective practice is key to improving one’s ability to “reach and teach,” we knew that we needed to open the following class with an admission of what went wrong, taking ownership for our mistakes, AND show how to handle a class that “flumphs.”

So we did. The next week, I brought in the worksheets, instructions, center signs, support materials and check lists for two center programs I’d worked on within the last year (one for 3-5 grade students; one for a family education program). I spread the materials out on the table before the students arrived. Their eyes lit up when they walked in the room.

We began the class by saying, “We blew it last week – we talked instead of showing you. So this week, we brought in materials to show and do.” One student asked if the evaluations they filled out had indicated that there was too much talking and not enough doing. I said (honestly), “No, I knew within 5 minutes of beginning that I’d made a mistake; but your evaluations confirmed specifically what that mistake was and how to rectify it.”

They had a chance to handle materials, ask questions, see how things fit together. I reminded them that I hadn’t provided six or seven centers with multiple activities when I first began using centers. I plucked out the single art, game, and writing activities I might have used at the very beginning. Their questions clearly indicated they were engaged with the activity.

My colleague led the next exercise showing how cooperative learning can be used. He lead a “Stand-Up; Hands-Up; Pair-Up” activity and when we were done, we demonstrated how to “coach” participants into coming up with an answer (instead of telling them what the answer is) and talked about a variety of ways in which this technique could be adapted. Nodding, eager heads let us know the message had been received! We then followed up with a couple of team-building exercises (round-table where they wrote “A Love Poem to Shabbat”), and had them reflect on how they thought the activities had gone.

As a final piece of our final class – we reviewed some of the planning materials in their session folder. For each session, we had provided a folder of materials/resources that they could explore at their leisure. This final folder, however, was somewhat different in that it included a number of suggestions for planning for the year, materials they should get from their director before they start teaching, and ongoing ways to stay on top of their game during their first year.

This session was a vast improvement over the one we'd “fumphed” the week before. I’m glad we ended with this one. I never would have intentionally “fumphed” a lesson, but there was merit in showing how you can recover from a “fumph” – and also in showing that all of us “fumph” at some point or another, no matter how long we’ve been doing this.

A final note: there are some very lucky kids in our community who will have the opportunity to learn with some great adults who are committed to their own Jewish learning, and to making a difference in the lives of our Jewish kids. May they continue to go from strength to strength.

The Four Generations

An Adaptation of "The Four Children"

This was the interpretive reading we used the Passover that was the last one we had with my mother-in-law. I wish I could remember where I got it, but I don't. I hope you find it as thought-provoking as I do.

The Torah commands parents to tell the Passover story to their children. The traditional Haggadah talks about the four types of children, with different questions and attitudes about Passover and Judaism.

Tonight, as we share our table and our tradition with generations of our family, we have adapted the questions for four generations.

The future generation asks, “What will I inherit?” While each future generation will have to make its own commitments, if we could speak to them, we would say, we will preserve the Order of the Seder and the wisdom of our fathers and mothers for you. We would say to this generation, “We will keep alive the message of the Haggadah about the nature of freedom and justice, and about the need to act to make the world a better place for generations to come.”

The children’s generation asks, “What does all of this mean to me? What of myself will I bring to the Seder? How shall I maintain and add to my tradition?” In doing so, this child commits himself or herself to our community. Say to this child, “We are thankful that you are fully here. Be assured, because you sing and read and drink and eat with us, you will know and you will add to the meaning of the Seder. Take confidence from your presence here.”

The parents’ generation says, “Where have we come from?” We have merged from the ashes of the Holocaust, seen the birth of Israel, the release of Jews from Russia and Ethiopia, the shattering of the Communist empire, the re-emergence of hate and bigotry in a hundred forms. We have struggled with our own concepts of Judaism.” Tell this generation, “You are celebrating and learning because you are now free. Because you have struggled with your tradition and have enriched it with your selves, it will last as a gift to your children and your children’s children.”

And what about the grandparents, whose question is almost too difficult to ask? “What have we accomplished?” To the grandparents, you shall say, “Look around the table. All of this…. and more.”

“And the old shall dream dreams and the youth shall see visions
And our hopes will rise to the sky
We must live for today, we must build for tomorrow
Give us time, give us strength, give us life”
~Debbie Friedman

Pearls from Pain

a drash

Several weeks ago, our congregation had its annual “Disability Awareness Shabbat.” Instead of a specific d’var torah/”words on the torah” (aka “sermon”), a congregant gave a drash/teaching on her experience as the parent of a child with multiple disabilities. Her children are about the same age as ours (mid- to late-twenties) and I’ve known her “somewhat” since we were much younger parents.

She spoke about the journey that she and her husband have been on since her child which diagnosed within a couple of weeks after birth with viral encephalitis – and the changes resulting from it: cognitively and physically.

She spoke eloquently about the grieving process that she and her husband went through:

The inevitable questions of how and why this could have happened as well as the anger and sadness took time to work through. Any person who has ever experienced a loss understands these emotions and can appreciate what it takes to deal with these feelings. Fortunately, we had a strong relationship and we understood the importance of finding something positive in dealing with this life altering experience. We also understood that our attitude towards our child would influence our [other] children’s attitude as well.

She spoke about the caring people along their journey who supported them; people who cared for their child and chose to establish their own relationship with him.

Even though there have been many caring people and her child – now an adult – has been able to have a quality of life surpassing that which was originally projected, my friend admitted:

All this being said, having a child like ours does not diminish the challenge and sometimes isolation we feel as parents. We have developed some wonderful friendships with other families who parent a child with special needs. It is within this community that we can share our experiences and know that we are not alone and can help one another.

She ends her drash by quoting from My Grandfather’s Blessings by Dr Naomi Reden.

In her book, she describes an oyster as being soft, tender, and vulnerable. Without the sanctuary of its shell it could not survive. But oysters must open their shells in order to “breathe” water. Sometimes while an oyster is breathing, a grain of sand will enter its shell and become a part of its life from then on.

Such grains of sand cause pain, but an oyster does not alter its soft nature because of this. It does not become hard and leathery in order not to feel. It continues to entrust itself to the ocean, to open and breathe in order to live. But it does respond. Slowly and patiently, the oyster wraps the grain of sand in thin translucent layers until, over time, it has created something of great value in the place where it is most vulnerable to its pain. A pearl might be thought of as an oyster’s response to its suffering. Not every oyster can do this. Oysters that do are more valuable to people than oysters that do not.

Sand is a way of life for an oyster. If you are soft and tender and must live on the sandy floor of the ocean, making pearls becomes a necessity if you are to live well.

She ends with her own bit of wisdom:

Disappointment and loss are a part of every life. Many times we can put such things behind us and get on with the rest of our lives. But not everything is amendable to this approach. Some things are too big or too deep to do this, and we will have to leave important parts of ourselves behind if we treat them in this way. These are the places where wisdom begins to grow in us. It begins with suffering that we do not avoid or rationalize or put behind us. It starts with the realization that our loss, whatever it is, has become a part of us and has altered our lives so profoundly that we cannot go back to the way it was before.

Something in us can transform such suffering into wisdom. The process of turning pain into wisdom often looks like a sorting process. First we experience everything. Then one by one we let things go, the anger, the blame, the sense of injustice, and finally even the pain itself, until all we have left is a deeper sense of the value of life and a greater capacity to live it.

It is with this thought that I believe our child has become my pearl.

I learned a lot that morning, listening to my friend share her pearls of wisdom with all of us. I especially like the acknowledgement that it's not always possible to "put it behind me and move on."... that feelings need to be experienced honestly before one can begin to let them go. And yet, over time, it is possible to value and life life more deeply and completely.

Wow.

Maybe It's Not A Totally Lost Cause?

I may have blogged a little too quickly yesterday, about the two courses being cancelled due to under-enrollment.

In separate conversations with educators in both Virginia and Maryland, we were able to do some out-of-the-box thinking about other approaches that may work.

One colleague suggested front-loading the training next year, during school sessions. It would mean his teachers wouldn't necessarily have madrichim the first couple of weeks of school, but it would allow the participants to be trained during their already-committed time.

Another colleague suggested offering the course weekly during second semester, instead of spreading it out over the entire year. The compressed time might work easier for participants.

Another idea that surfaced was the possibility of a weekend retreat at the beginning, followed by intermittent "check-ins."

So maybe it's not a lost cause.... Sounds like a brainstorming session might be in the works for after our community-wide Education Day in early November.

I'm feeling better....

A New Insight

Sometimes, when I least expect it, I run into some information that causes me to re-examine what I thought I knew.

A SCENE FROM THE PAST: At a school I directed for a number of years, we had a high percentage of students who had a variety of learning disabilities. We also had several – eight to be exact – students who had either autism or asperger’s syndrome. We – the students, teachers, parents and I – worked to find ways to involve our students in authentic learning and community experiences. Sometimes we had more success than others.

There was an older student in our program, one who was bright, articulate, curious, fond of routines and a lover of predictability: a student who thrived when he knew exactly what to expect; and who was rattled when others couldn’t “see” what he “saw” in a discussion. Situations in which there was more than one right answer were difficult for him to cope with – or comprehend. As he entered seventh grade, we found the social piece was becoming increasingly difficult and causing pain to him, to his classmates, and to his teacher.

After one particularly distressing day, Mom and I spoke about possible alternatives. We had an existing HomeSchool program at that time and Mom requested that he be allowed to participate in the HomeSchooling program. Social interactions, she pointed out, were a stumbling block for him across the board, in every setting he found himself. He wanted to learn – was eager to pursue advanced studies. We’d tried, she said, to make the traditional setting work. Maybe it was time to try something else.

After discussion with the student, with Mom, with the teacher and the Rabbi, we all agreed it was a viable alternative. I agreed to work up an accelerated course of study designed to challenge him well beyond what we were able to do in class. I spent time in transition discussions with both the family and the class he was leaving behind.

HomeSchooling worked – for about three weeks.

Then Mom called and asked if I could meet with her and the student. The student told me he was learning a lot, but that there was something missing: a learning community. Even though he’d had problems in class and with the other students, he missed being with them and hearing their ideas. He asked if he could come back to class. I reminded him that the class wouldn’t be able to move at the accelerated pace – he understood that. And that there were going to be times when he disagreed with others – and I expected him to remain in control of his temper. He agreed to do that.

So I began to do some scripting, both with him individually and with the class collectively. I told them how I expected them to greet each other; what words they could use to disagree (respectfully) with each other; and specifically how to stop pushing each other’s buttons. We also provided a couple of safety nets for the more volatile participants.

As things settled in, the Rabbi and I conferred. I expressed how incredulous I’d felt when the student said he missed being with the class, even though it was hard for him. I remember saying, “All the literature tells us that Asperger’s kids prefer to work along – they don’t want to be in groups working.” The Rabbi listened. “Perhaps,” he said, “the literature is wrong. And maybe these kids fit in when the community can accept them.”

FAST FORWARD: Last week, rushing through the grocery store, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a book: Look Me in The Eye (John Elder Robison). I stopped in my tracks.

How often had I said that to students, until I learned that for some students, eye contact makes it impossible for them to share their thoughts?

I reached for the book and read the subtitle: “My life with Asperger’s.” I read it through in two days, unable to put it down.

On page 211, John Elder Robison writes:

Many discriptions of autism and Asperger’s describe people like me as “not wanting contact with others” or “preferring to play alone.” I can’t speak for other kids, but I’d like to be very clear about my own feelings: I did not ever want to be alone. And all those child psychologists who said “John prefers to play by himself” were dead wrong. I played by myself because I was a failure at playing with others. I was alone as a result of my own limitations, and being alone was one of the bitterest disappointments of my young life.

I am very grateful that my former student felt safe enough to approach his Mom and me about re-entering the classroom. I am very grateful that I had the sense to LISTEN to what he was saying. I am very grateful that I was able to pull out specific words and phrases to teach this group of young men and women not only what to say, but how to say it. I am very grateful to the other students in the class who were able to rise to the occasion. And, I'm very grateful that I was able to discount what "all the literature said" and regard my student as a unique individual.

It ended up being a good year.

Change: Noun or Verb?

I'm taking a class, with a group of other Jewish communal workers - we meet monthly and discuss a variety of topics. It's an eclectic group and so we often get a variety of viewpoints.

One of the topics that arose last week was the subject of "change." The instructor asked, "How do you feel about change?" Being the forward-minded people we are, we all agreed that while others might have problems with change - we don't.

Pretty pat answer.

But the question's been echoing in my mind all week. Perhaps not surprisingly, given the start of the New Year (5769) this past Monday at sundown.

After a while of turning the question around and examining it from different perspectives, it occurred to me that what we'd done, as a group, was to treat "change" as one word - without distinguishing between the verb change (which refers to a process) and the noun change (which is the outcome or product).

I maintained in class that I don't necessarily have a problem with change-the-noun. After all, I'm all about change - my life is vastly different than I ever could have envisioned, growing up in a German-Catholic-Lutheran farming community of 5,000 people. I learned a long time ago that "5-year plans" weren't part of my makeup.... "Seize the moment" or "the road less traveled" was more typically my style.

And yet.... and yet, it's not quite that simple.

I hate change-the-verb.... I hate feeling disoriented... the unpredictability that occasionally catches me unaware and makes me scramble to regain my equilibrium. I hate having to be oh-so-very-mindful until new patterns become routines.

We did a lot of moving when I was growing up -- I always felt at a loss until our new house became a "home." And that generally seemed to happen around the time I would enter a dark room and automatically hit the light switch on the first time.

I like routines.... I like grabbing my briefcase and knowing that all the materials I'll need for a specific class are there: pencils, glue sticks, books, notes, stapler, markers, tzedakah box. Since I teach different classes in different settings, I have separate bags for each -- I can just "grab and go" and not think about all the discrete items I need.

I like routines.... when I get up each morning, I grab a cup of coffee and sit at the computer. I check my email accounts, log on to Facebook, read the comics, peruse the headlines, and follow some blogs (in the same order every morning). Only after that routine is completed, can I go on to something new.

Any yet, if I'm totally honest, despite my discomfort at the process, I look back over the intentional changes I've made - and I would make them all over again: moving East, leaving my career path, meeting my husband, converting to Judaism, having children, becoming a Jewish educator, engaging in volunteer work (Judaic and secular). How different my life would have been if I'd not been willing to engage in that process!

May the year ahead hold sweetness, good health, and sufficient challenges to keep life interesting - but not overwhelming. L'shanah tovah!

Quick Note

Still swamped and tried to dig out and settle into a routine. Hopefully that will happen sooner rather than later, and I'll be able to blog again more regularly.

In the meantime, here's an inspirational blog for parents and teachers about meeting our kids where they're "at" instead of trying to push out kids that are all equally adept at the same things.

From Raising Small Souls, here's why differentiation is critical.

Enjoy!

Teaching is Like....

...improv. theater!

The teacher is both the protagonist and the director of the performance; the classroom is the set. The script is the lesson plan and the learning materials are the props.

It's like improv. theater because the students don't have scripts -- or at least, some of them don't. The teacher's challenge is to respond to the improvisions the students throw his/her way. The goal is for the teacher to remain in character -- and continue to teach!

In this staging, the teacher controls the setting (environment), the script, the props, and stage directions. S/He has some control over the pacing of the lesson - but not total control because the students' improvisations can easily throw things off balance.

As a teacher gets to know the students in the class better, s/he is better able to predict what kinds of improvisations the students might throw into the mix. Generally speaking, if the relationship between the teacher and students is respectful, the improv comments/behaviors of the students may actually enhance the lesson and cause the learning to soar to a different height or along a parallel path that provides additional insight for all.

Those items the teacher can control (setting/environment, script, props, and stage directions) can easily affect the quantity and quality of the improvised role of the students.

In the next week or so, we'll be taking a closer look at each of these pieces.