parenting

Making room for compassion

I’ve been under stress lately. It’s the usual: money, household, family and work concerns. Some of it is my own doing: in our enthusiasm for extracurricular activities, I somehow managed to sign our twins up for three different weekly ones during January and February. Yet, even though rushed dinners and drives through snowstorms and -30°C windchills aren’t my favourite activities, I found a silver lining. As my kids learned to use sewing machines at the studio, I got to knit and read quietly in the renovated waiting area overlooking river skating trails and watching the sunset. During chess club at the local Chabad, I saw friends briefly, then I hid, reading alone.

Thinking about the two sides of these activity nights made me reflect further. Having the time and energy and, yes, money to manage these extra enrichments is a gift, even if schlepping kids around can be hard and tiring for parents. The few moments of relative quiet, while the kids are happy, occupied and learning, usually enable me to regain my composure.

Once I have had those moments, I find room to be more patient, kind and compassionate. I’m not big on spas or manicures or tropical vacations. For me, something as simple as a few moments alone in a warm, quiet place with a good book or a good view can give me that reprieve.

I thought of this while speaking with my mom recently. She mentioned that, while on neighbourhood forums, sometimes she feels that all people do is complain. Worse, she feels that, in a Jewish forum, there is always someone who reads everything that happens to her as antisemitic. There was a pause in the conversation as I sensed her frustration. I was able to reach back into one of those warm, calm moments and suggest, in response, that perhaps in an era of rising antisemitism, the person concerned about antisemitism had actually experienced trauma. That, maybe, her fearful responses and anxiety were a response to a real incident.

Similarly, I wondered about those who were “always complaining” online. Perhaps those people also had bad experiences, but had no one offline to comfort or hear them. No one “saw” them. As a result, they were seeking that attention and reassurance online instead.

There is no shortage of distressing stuff happening, particularly if you’re reading about the ongoing earthquakes and displacements in Turkey and Syria, the deaths and violence between Israelis and Palestinians, or the increased crime or fatal drug overdoses at home in Canada. There is plenty of “awful” to go around.

The big challenge is in finding that space in which to compose ourselves and respond to others with compassion and patience. It can be as simple as a cheerful conversation or joke, and as difficult as listening to someone’s painful cries for help, on repeat.

As someone who grew up in the United States, I dreaded what I would hear after the Shabbat recently described as a “Day of Hate” proposed by neo-Nazis. All day, I remained tense, worried. What happened? Thank goodness, nothing much. My brother’s family attended a lovely bat mitzvah at our family’s long-time congregation … like many in the States, they went to synagogue and nothing happened. Yet, the overall increased antisemitic activity afoot made it hard for me to just relax and hope for the best. Even if nothing happened on that day, the amount of hate going around has increased. Almost worse though is the response that Jews who are anxious about this are simply “crybabies” or “crying wolf” or worried about nothing. The bad feeling comes from fear. Some of it, due to intergenerational trauma, is internalized.

My husband’s father was born in a displaced persons camp in Germany after the Second World War. Although my husband’s grandparents lived, they lost most of their families. They managed to survive the war, with harrowing stories. My husband’s bubbe, may she rest in peace, talked about her experiences over and over. I often sat next to her, holding space for her stories, as she repeated her trauma in different ways. She’d effortlessly shift languages, speaking whatever language – among them, Hebrew, Yiddish and English – to whomever also had that room to hear her, see her and listen.

By contrast, my husband’s zayde, z”l, spoke less about the war, but, in his final years, when he lived in a nursing home, he replayed a scary story over and over. At every door of the care home, the healthcare workers posted photos of him, because he’d try to escape. Mimicking what must have happened during the war, he’d trick someone or sneak past or do something that allowed him to leave the home. They were the enemy, trapping him, and he needed to get out. Zayde often succeeded, showing up on the doorstep or sitting in his car in the driveway. He scared the heck out of Bubbe when she found him. He, too, was replaying his traumatic past.

We’re lucky to have new kinds of therapies and medications that help some people cope with trauma, but many of us still are working through issues. Even with access to basics like housing, food, medication and, hopefully, love, we all struggle to be seen and heard, to find enough compassion and love to make it through. We need to each find that quiet, well-lit space to regain our composure, so we can then reach out and help others.

As Hillel says in Pirkei Avot: “In a place where there are no men, strive to be a man.” It could also mean: “In a place where no one is acting like a good person, strive to be one.” Nowadays, some of our places for listening are online. Our social encounters are different than before, and finding that patience or inner strength can require more effort.

Love, and its close cousin, compassion, are not limited commodities. A heart full of kindness can find more space to help. As my crazy wintertime parenting and worry load lightens, I realize that I wish everyone could have that gift of an hour of solitude, watching the sun set over a river, seeing a rabbit’s tracks or a biker commuting home. We can’t singlehandedly fix or stop the world’s trauma, but we can gift each other our time and patience to help others feel seen and to heal from it.

Joanne Seiff has written regularly for CBC Manitoba and various Jewish publications. She is the author of three books, including From the Outside In: Jewish Post Columns 2015-2016, a collection of essays available for digital download or as a paperback from Amazon. Check her out on Instagram @yrnspinner or at joanneseiff.blogspot.com.

Women deserve to be seen

As a mom of twin toddlers about 10 years ago, I was desperate for childcare. Call it preschool, nursery school, daycare or old-fashioned babysitting, it was impossible to come by when we were looking. Every place had long waitlists. I was told by more than one place that I should have put our family on the list for childcare before I gave birth. (An absolute no-go from my position, due to Jewish traditions.) Then I heard about the possibility of spots at a local Chabad preschool.

I am a feminist and, while really invested in Jewish life, I’m on the liberal, egalitarian part of our tradition. I hadn’t even looked at Chabad as an option. I am still amazed by how we were welcomed there and how much help the preschool teachers and other families gave us. Older kids from other families even helped walk my 2-year-olds up and down the stairs to the school when I couldn’t manage. It was a gift when I truly needed a break.

At first, my twins could only manage preschool in the mornings, so I couldn’t get back to work. It allowed me three hours at a time on my own and I used it get long overdue medical support for myself or for one twin at a time. I accomplished basic household needs like grocery shopping or changing bedding. Sometimes, I got to rest. My twins didn’t sleep through the night until they were four-and-a-half years old. Eventually, the kids stayed longer hours at preschool and I worked a little, but it was a challenging time.

While in this sleepless, liminal state, I met Jewish women I’d never encountered before. Moms with more than 10 kids, for instance – a situation I’d scarcely considered before my kids went to this preschool. While some of my extended family made negative comments about my encounters with this pocket of traditional Jewish observance, I marveled, realizing that some parents raised big families with skill and love. Other families struggled with only a child or two. Large families were not inherently “bad” nor small families “good.” I learned many things from these experienced parents. They did not judge us. They helped whenever they could. Their kindnesses were a blessing.

Winnipeg, our city, is crisscrossed by train tracks. It wasn’t uncommon to be stuck at a train crossing going to preschool. I joked about this with a mom who was very involved in the Lubavitch community and had a big family. My twins loved trains, so we unrolled the car windows to hear the horn and the bells and trains rattling on the tracks and enjoyed the moment. She smiled and said she too enjoyed the unexpected wait at train crossings. She used the time to pray. She had a pocket-sized book of tehillim (psalms) and another siddur (prayer book) that she kept in the minivan specifically for occasions like this.

I was flummoxed, impressed by her piety but surprised. This woman, who was so incredibly busy, also invited my family to her kids’ huge birthday parties. She found time at train crossings to pray? Wow.

Afterwards, if her older kids sought me out at a Shabbat dinner or community event, I made room at the table, tried to treat them like I would treat my kids. Her mentorship and thoughtfulness made a deep impression.

I’ve been reminded of this because, lately, Haredi and Modern Orthodox women have been in my social media feed. In recent years, some Haredi publications have stopped using women’s faces or bodies in their photos and advertisements. I follow Chochmat Nashim, an organization that fights to keep images of observant women’s and girls’ images in traditional Jewish publications, so that Jewish women can see themselves in the world around them.

I also read about agunot (chained women), whose husbands will not grant them a get (a Jewish divorce) so that they can remarry. In some cases, these women wait years, are forced to pay large sums of money, or give up custody rights to their children so they can be granted a divorce. Since they observe Jewish law, a secular or civil divorce isn’t enough, and they can’t remarry in their communities without a get. One of the only ways they get “seen” is through loud protests held by other Orthodox women, who stand as allies, trying to bring attention to the situation. Sometimes, this public shaming is the only chance they have to receive a get. Imagine what this allyship means if it is one’s only recourse to escape domestic violence or to be free to remarry.

Another example: a concert was held in London, a special Orthodox women’s-only concert, designed so that Jewish women could sing and other women could attend. (In these parts of the Jewish community, it’s considered alluring and inappropriate for men to hear women sing. This is a way for talented women to perform and other women to enjoy their amazing gifts.) Despite all their precautions, there were rabbis who said that attending this women-only event would be forbidden. Guess what? Women went anyway. The event was sold out.

For me, “seeing” the strong moms of big families as mentors and friends was an eye-opener. They taught me so much, both about their everyday lives and how they viewed Judaism, orthodoxy and Hasidism. Despite a truly overwhelming load of parenting, work, religious and household obligation, they modeled for me how to find time for things that are important. Whether it is helping a kid with learning disabilities or praying at train crossings, they make time for what matters to them.

To some extent, these are all the same women. The ones whose images are banned from publications, who might suffer because they are denied a Jewish divorce, or who might be kept from attending even a women-only concert of religiously acceptable music – they are also perhaps the same mentors who model good parenting, find room for prayer and care for others’ children as their own.

Regardless of our level of religious observance, Jewish women deserve to be seen, loved and treated with respect. This may seem obvious, but it still isn’t happening.

Why we need summer camp

Summer camp helps foster grit, creating space for kids to develop independence and author their own stories. (photo from URJ Camp Kalsman)

As a parent of three, I know how hard it is to balance the overwhelming desire to make sure my kids “have it all” – diverse extracurricular activities, best schools, quality family time, etc. – and, at the same time, to know when to let go (and actually do it!) so they can experience the power of paving their own way. Skinned knees, bruised egos, broken hearts and all.

As a summer camp director, I also know that parents like me are not alone. In fact, there is a whole army of incredibly kind and passionate young adult role models, often dressed up in silly costumes, ready to be my partner in this “gritty journey” of adolescence and the teenage years.

Ask anyone who grew up at overnight summer camp – Jewish or otherwise – and most will tell you it felt like their second home. At Camp Kalsman, where my children and I have spent the past six years, we welcome campers and staff members “home” each summer. But what does this really mean and why is this important for fostering grit in our kids and teens?

I’d argue that home, a place of true belonging, is prime real estate for failure, learning and growth – home is where grit is born. Often, when we think of home we think of being safe and protected, perhaps shielded from the real world. I would argue that home is more of a safety net, giving a child the reassurance that not only is failure OK but that, when they do ultimately fail at something, we’ll be there to catch them and help them bounce back, stronger and more resilient.

What are the top three reasons why you, as a parent, guardian or loving adult, need summer camp, too?

1. Creating space to deepen connection. I’m going to say something that might make some people uncomfortable – your kids need a break from you just as much as you need one from them. Camp gives you the chance to create that space, knowing that you have a trusted partner to create that same safety net for your child. Absence makes the heart grow fonder is a cliché and it’s also a deeply true statement. By creating (physical) space for a finite period of time, your child has the chance to broaden their perspective, test everything you’ve taught them, try something on their own and learn from other trusted adults. When a camper has a temporary moment of sadness at camp (sometimes referred to as homesickness), that feeling is validated – “how wonderful is it that you have such great folks at home who love you, believe you can do this and know you will be safe and cared for at camp?” Camp simultaneously builds a sense of self separate from the family unit and strengthens the roots of that family tree from afar.

photo - kid kayaking at Camp Kalsman — *(photo from Camp Kalsman)*

2. Declaration of independence. How often do you wish your kid would make their own lunch for school, make their bed without you asking, pick up those socks that have been next to the couch for what seems like days? At camp, where “nagging” parents are replaced with super-cool counselors who are the perfect combination of Julie Andrews and Dick Van Dyke from Mary Poppins, kids learn a sense of communal responsibility, pride in keeping their space clean, and come to understand how their action (or inaction) can have ripple effects on those around them. At the beginning of the summer, they will have contributed to creating a cabin covenant (at Camp Kalsman, we use the Hebrew term brit kehillah), a shared understanding, co-created by their bunkmates and counselors, about how they will live and play together for the camp session. Campers have to navigate social situations without adult or teacher intervention (those cool counselors are also trained in conflict-resolution and will help out, of course). The ownership children and teens feel about their time at camp helps foster confidence and self-awareness and helps calibrate their inner moral compass for when they return home and to school.

3. Sharing the stories. It may happen in the car-ride home, over that first “real-world” meal after so many days of camp food, or a few days after they get home and have had time to process, but your child might just freely and willingly tell you stories about the summer. It won’t be like their one-word answer when you ask about school. With their new-found independence and confidence (see #2!), they might tell you about the friends they made, the new food they tried, the counselor they loved, maybe even the silly dance they made up. And, after you’ve listened intently, controlling your need to ask 1,000 follow-up questions, and instead basking in their joy and nostalgia, you’ll say, “Wow, that sounds like one incredible summer!” You will have given your child the gift of summer camp, and they will have given you the gift of sharing in their joy and confidence and gratitude.

While there are many, many more reasons that we all need summers at camp (a second home), the combination of creating space, developing independence and authoring their own stories is, at its core, the secret sauce of raising a gritty and resilient generation of children, teens and parents!

Rabbi Ilana Mills is camp director, URJ Camp Kalsman. If you are interested in learning more about the camp, visit campkalsman.org or contact Rabbi Ilana at [email protected].

Invest the time to prepare

One of the ways to prepare a child for a vacation is to start small. For example, take them to a local aquarium or other nearby attraction to get them used to the idea of touring. (photo from Dawn M. Barclay)

Planning a successful vacation when you have a child with ASD, ADHD, bipolar disorder and similar issues takes time, patience and practise but, in the end, you can build good memories that will last a lifetime. More great news: these tips can work for neurotypical families as well.

Here are the basics:

Understand the challenge. All children crave routine and predictability; it’s their comfort zone. Travel draws them out of their zone and into the realm of the unfamiliar, leaving even neurotypical children anxious and inflexible. Your goal is to help the child preview aspects of the vacation long before the vacation begins, in order to establish expectations of a new routine with elements now made familiar.

Start small. Introduce the concept of travel by reading children picture books featuring their favourite characters in travel situations. (Your local librarian can recommend some.) Role-play various travel scenarios, such as going through airport security or hotel check-in. Programs like Wings for Autism can provide a dress rehearsal before the main event. Watch videos on YouTube or those provided by the travel supplier that show each aspect of the vacation, including the hotel. Consider creating a social story about each aspect of the trip and review it with the child regularly. And try “mini experiences” like an overnight stay at a relative’s house before a hotel stay, or “tours” to local zoos, aquariums or even a flea market – now relabeled as a scavenger hunt.

Get buy-in. Another way to create predictability is to give the child some say in aspects of the trip. Discuss potential autism-friendly or autism-certified hotels, resorts, theme parks and other venues with a professional who has done the research for you, such as a certified autism travel professional. Then present a few parent-approved vacation options to the child and ask them to choose. You can do the same for daily activities as you prepare your itinerary (either written or in picture form). That gives you a new “routine” the child can anticipate, one where they have a personal stake in its success. Also allow the child to choose some of the clothing they’ll bring and let them help you pack. Make them active participants in their own holiday.

Make it child-centric. Traveling with youngsters, be they neurotypical or neurodiverse, can never match the pace you set when traveling before they arrived. It’s no holiday for you if you’re lugging an exhausted child on your back through a theme park. Instead of trying to cram four or five stops into your itinerary each day, plan for one or two. Try to make some of those stops extra-special by feeding into the child’s unique interests. There are specialized museums around the country for lovers of trains, insects, dinosaurs, or whatever their passion. Then set aside the afternoon to decompress at the pool or in front of the television.

Weed out potentially upsetting stimuli. Many children on the autism spectrum have sensory issues. Try to anticipate potential overload and introduce some of the unique sensory experiences in advance. For example, if you live in warmer climes and you’re heading somewhere like Alaska, practise wearing heavier and layered clothing. Or, if your child hasn’t experienced a beach, buy some sand at a crafts store, lay out a tarp and let the child feel the sensation of walking on sand before leaving on your trip.

Pack a “go-to bag.” Pack a customized bag containing the child’s favourite toys, snacks, a change of clothes and a trash bag (for any soiled ones), anti-nausea medication, noise-canceling headphones, surprises in gift bags (think Silly Putty, pens, an Etch-a-Sketch), and a preloaded iPad with kid-friendly shows and games. Keep your bag accessible and dole out the surprises to provide distractions if overwhelm sets in or plans go awry.

Remember, kids are kids. Any child can grow bored, weary and have a meltdown. Parents who think ahead, prepare their child for the new experience and are equipped to alleviate any anxiety, will be able to smooth the way while traveling.

Dawn M. Barclay is an award-winning author who has spent a career working in various aspects of the travel industry. She started as an agent with her parents’ firms, Barclay Travel Ltd. and Barclay International Group Short-Term Apartment Rentals, and then branched out into travel trade reporting with senior or contributing editor positions at Travel Agent Magazine, Travel Life, Travel Market Report and, most recently, Insider Travel Report. Her new book is Traveling Different: Vacation Strategies for Parents of the Anxious, the Inflexible and the Neurodiverse (Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 2022). Learn more at travelingdifferent.com.

Teaching about charity

Ellen Schwartz, founder of Project Give Back. (photo from LinkedIn)

Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver’s Choices, the largest celebration of women’s philanthropy in the community, takes place Nov. 3 at Congregation Beth Israel. At the event, featured speaker Ellen Schwartz, founder of Project Give Back, will talk about raising a son with a neurodegenerative disease and how her son Jacob helped her “live a more grounded, purposeful and present life.”

Project Give Back is targeted to elementary students in Ontario. Established in 2007 by Schwartz, a Toronto-based teacher, community advocate and mother of three children, it started as a program she created for her fourth grade classroom and it is designed to teach compassion and concern for community. The program, which selects and trains teachers to deliver its specialized curriculum, runs weekly from October to May in partner schools. In it, students help do the teaching by explaining the value of a worthy cause to their fellow classmates. Since its inception, Project Give Back has helped bring awareness to hundreds of charities.

“The beauty about Project Give Back is children teach us about what matters to them, through their involvement with a charity that they or their family are connected to,” Schwartz told the Independent.

Fifteen years after starting the program, Schwartz said many early participants continue to be actively involved in charitable work as they enter into young adulthood.

“We definitely have seen many of our alumni actively giving and making change in their communities,” she said. “Some of our graduates have published books, with proceeds donated to their chosen and personal causes.”

Some of the many grassroots charities to which Project Give Back has recently brought attention are Sending Sunshine, a program directed at curbing loneliness in the elderly population; Nanny Angel Network, which provides free in-home child care in Canada; and the Super Sophia Project, a group whose goal is to offer hope to children and their families battling cancer.

As Project Give Back bases much of its lessons on personal connection and in-class discussions, it, like many organizations, was affected by the pandemic and had to shift its operations accordingly.

“We had to pivot quickly to online learning. All of a sudden, we looked at the windows of the students and we had family members attending lessons as well as pets, grandparents, etc. That was beautiful to see,” Schwartz recalled.

“Unfortunately, there was a tremendous gap in education and, while many schools were able to continue, almost at the switch of a button, others truly struggled. In these schools, often school was a safe place for many children and many didn’t have the opportunity to reset online quickly. We launched Project Give Back Connects during this time. This was a way to connect powerful messages and resources to classroom teachers, which they could access and share with their students.”

For her Vancouver presentation, Schwartz plans to discuss some of the life lessons she learned from her son Jacob, who died in 2019 at the age of 21. Only months after he was born, he was diagnosed with Canavan disease, which damages the brain’s nerve cells. Jacob wasn’t able to walk, talk or see.

“I will share the best piece of advice I was ever given. It was on a folded note left in my mailbox 25 years ago, [and] I still don’t know who left it there,” said Schwartz. “I will touch on tricks and tips to living a life filled with purpose and meaning as well as shaping grief in a manner that allows us to move forward.”

Currently, Project Give Back only operates in Ontario, but Schwartz is eager to investigate operating in Vancouver schools.

“Our plan is to continue to grow slowly and carefully, never compromising on the quality of our program,” she said. “Sometimes, bigger does not mean better. I would rather teach less children and do it well so that spark becomes a flame, rather than teaching more and hoping to ignite a spark.”

Schwartz also co-founded Jacob’s Ladder, Canadian Foundation for the Control of Neurodegenerative Diseases, with her husband Jeff in 1998. In its 21 years of operation, Jacob’s Ladder raised more than $3 million for research, education and awareness of neurodegenerative illnesses, as well as research into treatments.

Ellen Schwartz has written two books: Lessons from Jacob: A Disabled Son Teaches His Mother About Courage, Hope and the Joy of Living Life to the Fullest and Without One Word Spoken. She has been honoured by the Israel Cancer Research Fund, Ve’ahavta, Aish Toronto, Sick Kids Hospital, and Brilliant Minded Women. And she has been awarded a Queen’s Jubilee Medal, a Meritorious Service Decoration by the Governor General of Canada and a Canada 150 Exemplary Canadian Medal.

“I am hoping to make some new friends and inspire your community with a story I am honoured to be able to share,” Schwartz said, when asked about what she expects from her visit.

The community speakers participating in Choices this year are the daughters of Holocaust survivor Robert Krell: Shoshana Lewis, Simone Kallner and Michaela Singerman. They will share how they honour their father’s experience.

Also part of the Nov. 3, 5 p.m., event will be a marketplace including several local vendors.

Tickets for Choices are $60 and include dinner. However, there is a minimum donation of $154 to support the Federation annual campaign and, for first-time Choices attendees, a minimum donation of $36. Register at jewishvancouver.com/choices.

Sam Margolis has written for the Globe and Mail, the National Post, UPI and MSNBC.

New year, new attitude

One of my twins urges us, after every meal, to offer him dessert. What started as a “desserts on Shabbat, weekends and holidays” and “dessert is a sometimes food” became ”let’s have dessert after nearly every lunch and dinner,” all summer long. He has a sweet tooth. He can often sway us with temptations. It’s hard to resist.

My other twin is often self-limiting when it comes to food. He eats lots of fruits and vegetables, gets full quickly, and often tells his brother, “no, it isn’t a dessert night.” He’s sometimes a little too much into self-denial. It’s a weird sort of sibling pressure and a complicated dichotomy to manage as a parent.

Recently, I studied page 53 of the talmudic tractate Ketubot (marriage contracts). Dr. Sara Ronis offered an introduction from My Jewish Learning. She highlighted an episode in this page of Talmud that describes just how tricky peer pressure can be. It’s a complicated story, so I’m going to summarize Dr. Ronis’s account. Rav Pappa’s son is marrying Abba of Sura’s daughter. They’re writing up the ketubah. Rav Pappa invites his colleague, Yehuda bar Mareimar, along. Abba is a person of limited financial means and Rav Pappa talks through all the potential financial constraints without letting his colleague get a word in edgewise. Then Rav Pappa insists Yehuda should come inside for the ketubah writing.

Yehuda sits silently. Abba feels worried that Yehuda is angry with him. Abba feels pressured and writes an enormous amount of dowry into the marriage contract. It’s all the money he has. Then Abba says (paraphrasing here): “What, you still won’t talk? I have nothing left!”

Yehuda sees the damage and finally speaks up. “Well, don’t act for my sake, this isn’t OK with me.” Then Abba says to Yehuda, “OK, I’m going to retract this.” Then the kicker comes. Yehuda responds (again paraphrasing): “I didn’t speak up so you would be ‘that kind’ of person who retracts a legal document.”

Essentially, this story is a tragedy about social pressure. Even silence can wreck things when a person is very sensitive to peer pressure and power dynamics.

In the great dessert debate at my house, I’ve observed how variable brothers who love each other can be when it comes to this kind of pressure. I’ve got one twin like Rav Pappa (talks a blue streak, seems occasionally clueless and sometimes applies pressure when it comes to dessert) and another kid, maybe like Abba, who is overly self-conscious and senses his parents’ hesitancy. He feels the social pressures so strongly that he overdoes it and self-limits sometimes even when the dessert is offered.

Over the High Holy Days every year, we’re listing a whole slew of sins and failures. Even though the landscape has changed and some of us may be streaming services rather than attending in person, the liturgy doesn’t change. Some of us feel heavily concerned and pressured to repent for the community for every sin on the list, even the ones that well, frankly, we couldn’t possibly have committed. Others of us are not engaged or aware of the pressure, possibly still out in the metaphorical synagogue hallway during services, still trying to cut deals or make potential business connections with others.

It used to be, in a pre-pandemic world, in many congregations, that women would wear new clothing and new hats, in a “see and be seen” Jewish New Year version of the Easter Parade. The pressure to dress up in a certain way is another kind of social pressure.

Perhaps the first step towards understanding the complexity of our social pressures and how to manage these interactions is to recognize that they exist. Once you “see” some of these issues, it’s hard to un-see them. We can then begin to reflect on how to manage the pressures and do better.

I’ll be honest. Although I love dessert, I also have the self-limiting guilty dessert tendencies. Finding that “middle ground” between the all-dessert-all-the-time routine and the “we don’t deserve dessert’” is a path we all may struggle to find. Acknowledging this dynamic and saying out loud that Twin A should stop pressuring us to eat sweets and Twin B should allow himself a scoop of chocolate ice cream sometimes – this is part of speaking and observing this aloud.

When my kids attended Chabad preschool, their birthday parties included cupcakes with lots of icing and a special moment. Each year, the teacher would ask my twins what new mitzvah (commandment) they would take on to celebrate their new age. Like Rosh Hashanah, it was a new year and a chance for self-reflection. The answers of 2-, 3- or 4-year-olds were typically funny ones, but the social pressure was realistic and pushed them towards doing good things. It was often something like, “I’m going to be nicer to my brother” or “I’m going to try to hit people less when I’m angry.”

Sometimes I wonder if we, as adults, could use the pandemic changes to step back, recognize the social complexities around us, and treat Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur differently. It’s a whole new year, like those preschool party mitzvah choices. We might experience vastly different things from social situations. We may be heavily influenced by powerful people like Yehuda bar Mareimar. Perhaps we’ve been overexcited and clueless like Rav Pappa. Or, like Abba of Sura, we lose everything because we feel pressured to do things against our own best interests.

Here’s to a meaningful, restful and contemplative holiday, full of love and, yes, good food, including – moderate amounts of – dessert. Wishing you a sweet, honey-filled and happy 5783!

Battling over-diagnosis

Dr. Shoshana Levin Fox’s An Autism Casebook for Parents and Practitioners: The Child Behind the Symptomswill hold you spellbound. Section I is titled “Children.” These first eight chapters are the stories of Jack, Sasha, Annie and others (all the children’s names used are pseudonyms) – children who came into the Feuerstein Institute after having been diagnosed as autistic. They exited with new hope, not only for themselves, but for their parents, who needed their own emotional propping up.

Levin Fox is a psychologist and play therapist who has worked with children for more than 30 years. In addition to lecturing and giving workshops in North America, Israel and Europe, she worked for 25 years in the Feuerstein Institute of Jerusalem, founded by the late Sorbonne-educated Prof. Reuven Feuerstein.

Levin Fox lived for nearly 20 years in Canada. She completed a master’s at Simon Fraser University and a doctorate in counseling psychology at the University of British Columbia. She worked for many years as a counselor in the Special Services to Children and Families program of the Association of Neighbourhood Houses of British Columbia. Levin Fox was awarded a Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada post-doctoral fellowship, which enabled her to do research and practical work in the field of autism at the Feuerstein Institute. Coincidentally, for many years, Hadassah-WIZO Canada were prime funders of the institute’s programs related to autism.

I recommend the book, not just for the moving stories of the children who were saved from what proved to be inaccurate assessments, and not only for the intriguing descriptions of the practices of the Feuerstein Institute, which Levin Fox combined with the DIRFloortime method. This book should be read for its critical message to parents who have received an autism diagnosis – or one of learning disabilities, ADHD, or other emotional, cognitive or developmental challenges – for their son or daughter: Believe in your child. Talk to your child. Keep looking till you find her the best and most appropriate help and hope. Don’t let the “experts” get you down, because a true expert will find the formula to lift you – and your child – up.

The idea of plasticity of the brain, writes Levin Fox, entered mainstream medicine several generations after Feuerstein had intuited and created materials and methods based on that reality. Levin Fox decries the fact that “the diagnosis of autism is used as a sacrosanct truism…. I have found that the term ‘autism,’ as it appears commonly in the field, in actuality is being used to describe children who suffer from a vast range of communication difficulties, from extreme shyness to psychotic conditions and just about everything in between.”

The children whose stories are recounted in this book all made significant progress. Levin Fox writes, “Not every child began to speak fluently, to learn at a normative level and to play happily with friends…. However, it can be safely and honestly stated that, inspired and mentored by the professor, my colleagues and I made a huge difference in the lives of hundreds of children originally thought to be autistic.” She sees them, as a team, as having saved many lives.

Feuerstein sought to find a child’s latent strengths, and what he called “islets of normalcy.” Levin Fox explains that “islets of normalcy” include, among other elements, eye contact, human relationships, symbolic play, curiosity, humour and more.” She emphasizes that helping parents understand their children’s challenges, and not to be fearful and depressed about them, is part of the battle.

In Part II, “Theoretical Groundings,” Levin Fox gives the intense and thorough theoretical background to the success stories, which are plentiful. Six more case studies are interwoven in the text to help bring the theory alive.

This section also describes the roots of Feuerstein’s methods. He began by working with orphan children who had been traumatized after the Second World War, decided there were flaws in the standard diagnostic tests and, rather than focusing on performance, he focused on the child’s ability to develop learning processes.

“Current studies on brain plasticity … scientifically substantiates what [Feuerstein] proposed two generations ago – that brain cells are modifiable and respond to the stimuli of the environment,” writes Levin Fox.

One of my favourite stories is in Chapter 15, where Levin Fox talks about Ben, whom she first met when he was 5 years old. The end of the chapter, with the sub-heading, “Ben’s Epilogue,” describes a chance meeting between Levin Fox and Ben’s parents, many years later, at an airport. “Dr. Shoshana!” they called out, and his mother pulled out her cellphone. “The happy faces of Ben and his wife, holding their newborn son, smiled back at me,” writes Levin Fox. “For Ben, the paradigm-shift had indeed been life-saving.”

I found other words to describe the journeys and miracles of the children portrayed in this book: life-affirming.

And hope.

Toby Klein Greenwald is an award-winning journalist, educational theatre director, teacher and the editor-in-chief of wholefamily.com. A longer version of this article appears at jewishlink.news/features/47241-the-child-behind-the-diagnosis and elsewhere online.

PJ Library resources

One PJ Library holiday offering is Passover is Coming by Tracy Newman and Viviana Garofoli.

Long a trusted resource for Jewish families in more than 35 countries around the world who receive their free books each month, PJ Library offers fresh reading, audio stories and tasty treats for families celebrating Passover this year, April 15 to 23.

Hundreds of thousands of children are receiving new books this month, each providing a carefully curated selection of age-appropriate reading related to Passover. New this year, families will also receive a colourful illustrated “Matzah Mania” fold-out that includes recipes for homemade matzah, matzah trail mix, and matzah pizza lasagna, along with ideas for serving a seder grazing board. The keepsake fold-out includes culturally inclusive information about seder traditions, and the Four Questions of the seder, which are printed in English and Hebrew.

image - In Every Generation Haggadah cover English — PJ Library’s Haggadah is available in five languages, including English and French. As well, PJ Library has many other Passover resources, such as children’s books about the holiday.

In the PJ Library program, which was created by the Harold Grinspoon Foundation, families who sign up may receive free books for children from birth through age 8. For kids ages 9 and up, PJ Our Way allows kids to select and review books on their own each month.

In April, two new Passover-themed episodes of the PJ Library Presents podcast network will launch. These new podcasts bring Jewish traditions, culture, holidays and values to life through audio storytelling. On April 4, Kiddo Learns about Passover will be the latest Afternoons with Mimi audio story, and Humpty Dumpty and the Passover Feast will be the newest tale in the Beyond the Bookcase series. Families may listen to the award-winning podcasts on all major streaming sources, and more information is at pjlibrary.org/podcast.

PJ Library has become one of the leading sources for family-friendly Haggadot, with its illustrated In Every Generation: A PJ Library Family Haggadah. Since 2018, the organization has shipped more than 675,000 individual Haggadot to more than 110,000 PJ Library families for free. (For non-subscribers, the printed Haggadah is available for purchase via Amazon.) PJ Library also offers a digital version that can be downloaded in five languages: English, Spanish, Portuguese, Russian and French. This Haggadah is filled with songs, blessings and explanations and is available as a free printable PDF from pjlibrary.org/haggadah.

This year, PJ Library has updated its Passover hub – pjlibrary.org/passover – with new book lists and dozens of fresh ideas and resources for families, including stories and songs, games, activities and recipes.

– Courtesy PJ Library

Talking neurodiversity

A Feb. 28 webinar explored the topic of neurodiversity, a term that encompasses a wide range of conditions, including autism, ADHD, dyslexia and Tourette Syndrome.

The talk, organized by PJ Library, Jewish National Fund of Canada Pacific Region, the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver, the Jewish Community Centre of Greater Vancouver and JCC inclusion services, was part of this year’s recognition of Jewish Disability Awareness and Inclusion Month (JDAIM).

“So often there is a grand stigma that a child has to fit the mold of what society wants of them. Our differences are what make us so valuable and so integral to creating positive change. I am thankful for my differences,” said Margaux Wosk, an autistic artist and entrepreneur, who provided introductory remarks.

The panelists for the evening were Dr. Janet Mah, a registered psychologist; Suzanne Ferera, a family counselor and registered occupational therapist; and Michele Shilvock, a certified behaviour analyst. Lisa Romalis, a teacher who is also a parent of a neurodiverse child, was the moderator.

Mah began by discussing common misconceptions regarding ADHD, or attentive deficit hyperactivity disorder. ADHD, she noted, is the broad term applied to capture three manifestations of the disorder: inattention, impulsivity and hyperactivity. She explained that ADD (attention deficit disorder) is an outdated term that would fall into the ADHD umbrella.

Children with ADHD might not be easy for educators to spot. “Often they are the quiet daydreamers that don’t disrupt the classroom, or the highly intelligent kids who are underachieving in relation to their own potential,” said Mah, an associate at the Cornerstone Child and Family Psychology Clinic, a clinical assistant professor in the faculty of medicine at the University of British Columbia and an expert in behavioural parent training and cognitive behavioural therapy.

Another misconception stems from the word “deficit” in ADHD. Frequently, a child’s attention will show signs of inconsistency, rather than a deficit, she explained. That is, a child with ADHD may be able to focus on subjects that are of interest to them. The difference lies within the executive functions in the brain, i.e., the ability to make transitions to a less-preferred task, time management, peer relationships, flexible thinking and emotional regulation.

There is, as well, a misconception centring around the use of medication, Mah pointed out. Many fear that those who take medication for ADHD will suffer a “zombie effect” or be susceptible to an increased risk of substance use. Proper treatment, she said, helps increase a positive trajectory for a person. Grades and behaviours may improve, bringing about more self-confidence and better friendships.

Mah emphasized the importance of external supports or adjusting the environment for those with ADHD. “ADHD is not a knowledge deficit,” she said. “It is more of a performance deficit. Most kids with ADHD know what the right thing to do is; they just have difficulty doing it in the moment.”

Ferera shared with the audience some of the parenting strategies she employs. A practitioner of the “calmer, easier, happier” method, founded by British learning and behaviour specialist Noël Janis-Norton, Ferera works as a school counselor and goes into family homes to help children who have behavioural difficulties.

One of the strategies Ferera uses with parents and teachers is descriptive praise. Rather than correcting behaviour or using vague or over-the-top praise to bring about improvement, descriptive praise recognizes the positive behaviours of a child, such as honesty, hard work and kindness.

“When we say ‘good job’ to a child, we are not giving them any useful information about what they did right so that they can do it again. Also, words like ‘awesome’ are not particularly believable to a child who knows they haven’t done anything awesome,” she said.

Descriptive praise is more specific. For example, if a child is being cooperative, a parent might say to them, “I asked you to put your toys away and, look, you’re putting your toys away.”

“The reason it is so important is that we all, as human beings, want to be appreciated, so, if we can use descriptive praise, it helps children understand that they can do the right thing and that they can do it again,” said Ferera, who believes this strategy can bring about a positive attachment in the parent-child relationship.

Shilvock, who has worked in the field of autism and neurodiversity for more than 23 years, supporting children and families through direct intervention design, supervision and parent coaching, described her approach as a behaviour analyst as follows: “Good therapy should be reflective about how learners learn. I am not about turning children into anything other than into the amazing individuals they already are.”

She, too, underscored the importance of environment and celebrating the diversity in neurodiverse children. Further, she stressed understanding a child’s social skills by gathering information and knowing where the “landmines” or potential triggers are. For example, if a child is attending a birthday party, a parent should find out what the plan for the party is ahead of time. This way, they can ascertain if there are any potential issues and decide if it is best for their child to go there without them or if they should accompany the child.

In concluding remarks, Michael Sachs, executive director of JNF Pacific Region, thanked the participants and recognized the wide range of topics covered in the webinar, as well as the need for more conversations on the topic in the future.

Sam Margolis has written for the Globe and Mail, the National Post, UPI and MSNBC.

Accepting a lack of control

Over a year ago, I wrote an article for the CBC with suggestions for parents on how to stay sane while coping with kids during the pandemic. I did some research, thought about it, and set out some points to follow. Now, all these ideas sound, well, familiar, but it doesn’t hurt to repeat them. I mentioned things like making a routine, keeping up with learning and life skills, getting some alone time, exercise and going outside. I included efforts to have intentional fun, and practising gratitude. As I write this, much of Canada is experiencing the third wave. Manitoba, where I live, is now our country’s hot spot. It’s been a long haul for all of us.

I’ve been struggling with what is “new” when, frankly, much has stayed the same. Even as some of us have gotten vaccinated, we still need to stay home. Like everyone, I’ve gone through periods of feeling anxious, as those in charge waver on how best to keep people safe. Then, the most recent war in Israel and the Palestinian Territories erupted … and things seem even scarier.

It’s hard to admit that we have little control as individuals. We choose who to vote for, or to wear a mask, or to social distance. We cannot individually control global pandemics, violence, extremism or antisemitism. That lack of control can be very scary.

I often retreat into absorbing “flow activities” to keep myself well during such difficult times. Often, I’m cooking, sewing, knitting or spinning yarn. I’m reading or taking long walks with the dog and kids. We’re watching geese and goslings on the riverbanks and spotting woodpeckers and warblers. Taking time to see and make new things can be really good for our mental health, and it’s often positive and productive.

I also continue to study my page of Talmud, usually late at night. I recently read Tractate Yoma 35, which discusses, in part, what the high priest would wear in the Temple, as he does his most holy actions of the year, on Yom Kippur. Everything is spelled out in detail. This is done by the rabbis both to explain what used to happen in the Temple and what perhaps might happen again, if the Temple were rebuilt. Even the cost of the priest’s clothing, which must be paid for and owned by the public, is noted.

The high priest acts for the whole community and, at the same time, these rituals have to be performed by him alone, as an individual. It’s an example of where the entire community must support a leader but has no control over that leader’s actions.

In the midst of this careful recounting of how he is to fulfil his duties, it says in Yoma 35b: “Rav Huna bar Yehuda, and some say Rav Shmuel bar Yehuda, taught: after the public service concluded, a priest whose mother made him a priestly tunic may wear it and perform an individual service … provided he transfers it to the possession of the public.”

The rabbis’ discussion indicates that the tunic the high priest’s mother made him must be donated to the Temple after he wears it. If he is attached to it, this might be hard. Also, it might be worth more than what the high priest’s garb should cost. It’s something a dear one made him, and it could be both emotionally and monetarily valuable. Yet, his mom makes it freely, knowing it might only be worn at this one time, and then donated for wider Temple usage.

Bear in mind what this meant. A high priest’s mother wants only the best for her child and, yet, must submit to the whole community who depends on him. So, she procures the right fibre-linen. She might have to process it, or it might come ready for spinning. She spins enough for a garment on her spindle. (There were no spinning wheels or industrial textile factories back then!) She weaves the fabric, and sews it into the tunic according to the given specifications. Then, she gives all that work away simply for the chance to clothe her son for a short time in her own handiwork for his extremely important event, serving on Yom Kippur on behalf of the Jewish people. This lesson is an ancient one – and, yet, many of us have to learn it over and over.

There’s so much we cannot control. Many huge world events are beyond us. We learn to submit to the experience that we cannot bend to our will. In the meanwhile, though, we can do everything in our power for good, as we see it. We can offer our money, creations and time. We can behave properly and follow instructions … and wait.

Many of my activities feel the same way as that mother’s tunic, although I have no high priests at my house. I spend many hours on meals, making clothing, helping kids learn, exercise, etc. Then, I finish my tasks and give it away. This “disappearing” work makes a difference in the universe, but I’m no closer to controlling the entire pandemic, the unrest in Israel, or beyond.

This is one of the hardest lessons I’ve had as a parent and an adult. We must accept where we are because, in some cases, nothing we’re capable of will control the situation or effect change. However, in the meantime, we can be like that high priest’s mother. We can offer up our love, our handiwork, our peaceful efforts and knowledge. We can expect never to see it again, like that gorgeous linen tunic.

Learning to make things and give them away may be the most important gift. The activity itself is the part that calms me down in the face of so much uncertainty. Last night, I used some knit remnants and my sewing machine and made a lightweight sweater for a 9-year-old. This is an ancient Jewish process, but it’s also another brand new sweater. Tomorrow, he may wear it … in the mud puddles and the rain – and that’s OK, too.