school

We always find ways to learn

All over the world, students will be continuing a different school experience, one that began soon after the pandemic. Some face a new academic year with entirely virtual learning. Others are going back into classrooms with many adjustments to allow (theoretically) for safer, virus-free learning. Still others face a hybrid approach, with small amounts of time at school but more time with parents, in daycare or even without any supervision at all as their parents work.

It’s a precarious time. Most of us haven’t experienced anything like this. Yet, there have been moments throughout history when the school rules changed. Imagine the European parents of the 1930s, faced with the Nazi rules, where their kids weren’t permitted to learn in the regular schools. There were families who left everything they knew to escape and start new lives anywhere they could go. There were parents who sent their children away to English boarding schools or on the Kindertransport, knowing that they themselves might not ever be able to leave Germany, Austria, Poland, Czechoslovakia or Danzig.

Those who say children must go back to school because “school is better for them than the alternatives” make arguments like, “We don’t know what the effects of this absence from school will be.” When I hear this, I immediately think of the settler children, perhaps 150 years ago, on the prairies, who spent long winters in sod houses or log cabins. Jewish immigrant families arrived in the 1880s in Manitoba and many spent time in immigration sheds or shacks by the river – it’s unlikely those kids had formal schooling. Many immigrants taught their kids as they could. Schooling was intermittent at best.

Don’t get me wrong, for kids who are hungry, neglected or abused, school is a refuge. For refugees with traumatic pasts, interrupting school learning is not a good thing. However, many kids with stable, financially secure families are doing just fine while staying at home. It’s the safest choice.

Were all these people who lived in sod houses or who had lapses in their formal schooling permanently marred as adults? I don’t think so. I pondered all this recently as I celebrated finishing the Talmudic Tractate Shabbat – by myself. I started Daf Yomi in January of this year, and I’ve read my page online every day, often late at night. Aside from a few online exchanges, it’s all alone. I know this study is better done with a partner or chevruta (small group). This would be preferable. However, during the pandemic, at home with my family, I was lucky to squeeze in a solitary 20 minutes to study before bed. It’s been hard to listen to podcasts or chat online in a forum, and I certainly wasn’t regularly meeting with anyone in person.

I didn’t have any formal training in studying Jewish texts until I was a teenager in a summer camp program. I didn’t learn Talmud in an organized way until I was in graduate school. Yet, here I am, actively learning as an adult. Does interrupted or unconventional schooling mean less learning? I don’t think so.

In an informal survey of the online Jewish world, we’re finding learning opportunities all over the place. Whether it’s religious schools, congregational adult education, Jewish institutions for higher education, publications or more, we’re offered countless ways to listen, watch and discuss in online classrooms. My kids, age 9, were deluged with online Jewish opportunities, even outside of their bilingual Hebrew/English public school curriculum. My parents report that they are doing something interactive and learning with their congregation nearly every day.

Learning is happening in many traditional and hands-on ways. Often, it’s just having time for reading or making food from scratch. In some ways, the pandemic has motivated people of all ages to try new things. For many in the Jewish community, the pandemic has allowed us to jump into Jewish learning or to attend synagogue (virtually) more often. The need for stimulation while staying home has wakened many people’s intellectual curiosity.

For me, at least, and for my kids, school wasn’t usually the place to satisfy that curiosity. Sure, yes, we learn essential things at school. But the exploring of the outdoors and science, the building and construction with Lego, the art and design we see and draw and the music we listen to – our appetite for all this was never fully sated at school. Or, at least, not as of yet.

I have one twin who is desperate to get back to school to see his friends. He cannot wait. The other twin is not at all sure he wants to return to school ever. Given the situation we find ourselves in, each kid may get some of what he wants. A little school, and a little time at home.

I felt I didn’t need a fancy siyum (event to celebrate finishing the study of a talmudic tractate) or a seudah (celebratory meal). However, at the last moment, I signed up for a Zoom event hosted by My Jewish Learning online. Three distinguished teachers spoke, one taught the last few lines of the text, and another recited the Hadran, the special short prayer one says at the end. It says, “we will return.” We pray not to forget the tractate we’ve just studied.

I was moved by the Zoom siyum. More than 450 people attended! Although I listened while I answered kids’ questions and made salad for lunch, I still learned a lot.

I also realized that, as long as we’ve been studying Talmud, we’ve been hoping for a return, a review and a chance to learn in the future. We may sit in virtual classrooms, all alone, or in a real classroom, socially distanced, but we will return to learning – no matter what our age.

The pandemic is possibly the biggest event in our lives for some of us. To paraphrase what we say in the Hadran, we must remember that we’ll return to learning and that learning will return to us; that we will not forget you, learning, and the learning will not forget us, “not in this world, and not in the world to come.”

Wishing you a healthy and positive back-to-school learning experience – however differently we might experience it this year.

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.

Much is new at VHA

Teacher Lisa Altow’s Grade 5 students at Vancouver Hebrew Academy build a machine, using a variety of household treasures. (photo by Shula Klinger)

Vancouver Hebrew Academy has a new principal of general studies this year. As well, the school site is being upgraded, with new classrooms and a brand new playground on their way.

Rabbi Don Pacht, head of school, works with two under-principals, one for secular and one for Jewish learning. Rabbi Tzvi Goldman is principal of Judaic studies and the new principal of general studies, Adam Zalba, rounds out the team.

Zalba’s role is to ensure that the students’ work meets the requirements of British Columbia’s provincial curriculum. Pacht describes Zalba as “incredibly personable. He’s one of those people that are just meant to work with children – you can tell right away.”

Zalba told the Independent he has had a “busy and eventful couple of months” at VHA. This is the first Jewish school he has worked at, and he said he has been impressed by “the professionalism, dedication and work ethic” of the teachers, as well as the support of the parents. He finds the children to be a “bright, inquisitive and joyful student body, with a thirst for knowledge.” In taking an active interest in the students’ social and emotional development, he looks forward to helping them on their way to becoming “caring, respectful and thoughtful citizens.”

“Our vision for VHA is excellence in both Judaic and general studies,” said Pacht. “We want students to be ready for whatever they choose next. For some, it’s intensive Judaic studies; for others, it’s King David or Pacific Torah Institute.” For example, Grade 7 students Chaya Yeshayahu and Devorah Leah Yeshayahu are considering Vancouver’s Shalhevet Girls High School, but are also looking at some out-of-town options, as well.

Of the two strands to the curriculum, Pacht said, “We’ve taught them to read and decode the Chumash, but we’ve also taught them to be analytical learners, for Talmud, for social studies. We strive to give them the tools they need to grow and connect with the outside world, through independent study. At 12, they leave VHA with a really solid set of foundation skills.”

VHA has been at its current site for 15 years, during which time the only upgrade has been the addition of portable classrooms. The property is owned by the Vancouver School Board, said Pacht. “For the last four years, we’ve been on a year-to-year lease,” he said. Recent lobbying at the VSB and the ministry has resulted in a new, eight-year lease. “That’s a generation in the life of an elementary school, where kids coming into preschool now can graduate from this building.”

The portables will be replaced with new modular buildings that are set up with a fast, efficient internet network. Construction for the buildings will start off-site within the next few weeks and the structures will be brought onto the property after school ends in June.

The old wooden playground structure will be dismantled at the end of this month, to be replaced shortly afterward by new, wheelchair-accessible equipment.

To fund these improvements, the school has fundraising plans, including its annual garden party, held in the summer. Pacht describes the party – which is hosted at a private home – as “a very relaxing and enjoyable event.”

Speaking of the funds needed to complete the necessary upgrades, the rabbi said, “We want to use them for the best purpose, to create the best learning environment possible.”

Shula Klinger is an author and journalist living in North Vancouver. Find out more at shulaklinger.com.

Love your child as they are

The Swirsky family. Jackie Swirsky has written a children’s book, Be Yourself, which features illustrations by her eldest child, Jacob, and her sister-in-law. (photo from Jackie Swirsky)

Maybe it’s because I’m an academic, but I tend to gravitate to categories, which is why the most current discourse on gender has made me feel challenged. I am, by now, very comfortable with the increasingly understood categories of transgender and cisgender (meaning that one’s body conforms to one’s gender identity). But what about cases of individuals who identify as neither transgender nor cisgender, but operate, instead, somewhere in the middle?

Jackie Swirsky, a speech-language pathologist based in Winnipeg, is the mother of two sons, one of whom (Jacob, age 8) Swirsky describes as “gender creative.”

Swirsky is my second cousin, but we only became acquainted after she published her children’s book, Be Yourself, which features a gender creative child and focuses on acceptance. We recently spoke by phone, where I admired her eloquence and compassion and, above all, her comfort with accepting the in-between.

When Jacob was 4, he said to his parents he felt it “wasn’t fair” that he was “a boy.” That’s when we opened up a dialogue, Swirsky said. Currently, he still identifies as a boy, “but his gender expression is very feminine,” she said.

There may have been a time when, faced with a son who prefers to dress in what are conventionally thought of as “girls” clothes, a parent may have tried to force the child to change. One can imagine the emotional pain that would have enveloped those households in those generations. Instead, Swirsky puts it plainly: Jacob “is perfect the way he is.” She sees it as her job not to change her child, but rather to “educate the world” in order to “make it a happier, safer place.”

Enter her book, Be Yourself, with illustrations by Jacob and Swirsky’s sister-in-law Jaimee Appel. It can be purchased at beyourselfbook.ca.

Swirsky took her message to Camp Massad at Winnipeg Beach before camp started, as Jacob would be a camper there over the summer. Leading a workshop for counselors on how to rethink gender norms, Swirsky’s goal was to help the staff “identify their own gender stereotypes,” while encouraging them to open a dialogue with the campers – rather than scold – if they happen to encounter issues of gender stereotyping or instances of gender mocking.

And, while some camps might think of themselves as progressive on the issue of gender, given the easy availability of costumes and the playful gender-crossing that may ensue, Swirsky is clear: for Jacob, this isn’t “dress up,” it’s who he is.

Camp Massad program director Sari Waldman shared with me that, in trying to make camp as “inclusive and accessible as possible,” they are rethinking some of what they realize are overly gender-binary practices. “Simple things,” Waldman said, like do we really need to divide the chadar ochel (dining hall) along gender lines?”

They are now more sensitive to gender stereotypes when writing cabin songs. Not every boy plays sports and longs to sneak into girls’ cabins, they now realize. Waldman added that they have installed gender-neutral washrooms in various spots around camp, and would include a gender-neutral stall in the refurbished bathrooms. This year, for the first time, boys’ and girls’ cabins would no longer be on opposite sides of the field.

Other camps have taken gender-awareness on board, too. As was reported in the Washington Post, Habonim Dror camps across North America, including Camp Miriam on Gabriola Island, have created a new, gender-neutral Hebrew word for camper (chanichol) for those who identify as neither male (chanich) or female (chanicha). And they have renamed each of their age-group names with a pan-gender neologism suffix (imot) rather than the male im or the female ot. It’s a mouthful (and not traditionally grammatical), but the move has created new awareness around gender identity and the categories into which we put each other.

No doubt, attending Jewish camp won’t be without its challenges for someone like Jacob. It’s hard to get around separate sleeping and showering arrangements, even if privacy is granted for changing. And, when it comes to ritual garb, Jacob doesn’t feel comfortable wearing a kippah, for example. Swirsky hoped that the staff would either let him choose whether or not to wear one, or else ask everyone – boys and girls – to cover their head.

As for school, Swirsky finds that the teachers at her son’s school are excellent in supporting Jacob where he is. She also has much praise for the Winnipeg One School Division, which recently issued a new “safe and caring policy on transgender and gender-diverse students.”

Occasionally, though, there are setbacks. One day, a substitute teacher asked the kids to divide up according to gender. Relaying the day’s events to Swirsky that evening, Jacob revealed that he didn’t know which side to stand on. “I just sort of wandered,” he said.

While Swirsky finds that some people she encounters lavish praise on her for her apparent open-mindedness, she insisted that this is basic to who she is as a parent.

“I love and accept my child for who they are; not who I expect them to be,” she said.

And, when talking with Jacob, Swirsky always makes sure to ask open-ended questions. “If you’re really listening to your kid,” Swirsky said, “you’re going to help support them to be on a path that makes them happy.”

It’s a wonderful message about love and acceptance, parenting our kids where they are, and helping society evolve to embrace diversity – even if that diversity is much more finely grained than we may have realized.

Mira Sucharov is an associate professor of political science at Carleton University. She is a columnist for Canadian Jewish News and contributes to Haaretz and the Jewish Daily Forward, among other publications.

Time to put the Hebrew back

With the school year in full swing, and with Chanukah just beginning, I’d like to take the opportunity to offer a single wish for Jewish community life in Canada. It’s quite specific and straightforward but, I believe, far-reaching.

I hope and wish that our community’s supplementary and day school teachers would speak Hebrew to their students. In other words, I’d like to see us put the Hebrew back in Hebrew school.

Having experienced more than one supplementary school via my own kids, this column is not meant to impugn any particular school, but rather is meant to capture a troubling dynamic I’ve witnessed in more than one place, and with more than one teacher.

For example, seldom have I heard the teachers say the simplest of Hebrew phrases – such as boker tov (good morning) – to the kids when greeting them. As I picked up my kids recently, I puzzled over why the teacher was asking the students to put the chairs on the tables in English when Hebrew would work beautifully for a simple command involving two common nouns.

Some months ago, I approached one school director about my concern, citing Ottawa’s very successful French immersion program as a model. (Recall that, until recently in Ottawa, where I live, kindergarten classes were only a couple of hours per day, showing that even direct application of spoken French in a limited time can have profound results.) The director’s response was that, for French immersion schools, French is akin to a religion. Here, on the other hand, the director explained, “We are in the business of teaching kids how to be Jews.”

I’ve been mulling over the distinction since then. Is Hebrew language acquisition conceptually distinct from “teaching kids to be Jews”?

Now, admittedly, I’m one of the more passionate Hebrew-philes there is, having elected to speak only Hebrew to my kids since they were infants. I realize not everyone shares my obsession for Hebrew and Israeli sitcoms, music and news.

I decided to tackle that director’s implication. I started by thinking about the one Hebrew word that virtually everyone living in a North American city knows. By dint of the craze around Christmas, probably the first Hebrew word children learn – even before shalom, ima or Shabbat – is Chanukah.

Now, most everyone knows that Chanukah is the name of the Jewish holiday commemorating the Maccabees’ victory over the Assyrian-Greeks. But, how many of us actually know the literal meaning of the word? Here’s a further challenge: I would wager that knowing the literal meaning of the word Chanukah provides key links to three seemingly unrelated things: a) better recall of the meaning of the holiday, b) an understanding of the causes of the First Intifada, and c) a deeper conceptualization of the entire relationship between Jewish identity and education.

So, here goes. Chanukah is the Hebrew word for dedication or inauguration. Knowing this would help kids remember that central to the holiday was the rededication of the Second Temple, and would render intelligible the chanukat ha’mizbayach phrase in the popular holiday song whose Hebrew words often register in kids’ minds as gibberish, unless they are schooled in the language.

Chanukat ha’bayit is also the Hebrew phrase for housewarming. A bit of modern Israeli political history reveals that Ariel Sharon’s provocative Muslim Quarter housewarming party in December 1987, during Chanukah, is understood by many political observers to have helped fuel the first Palestinian intifada. (Perhaps his housewarming party was meant to be a word play on the Festival of Lights, falling as it was at the same time. Perhaps not, but it also serves as a useful memory mnemonic for students of Israeli politics.)

Finally, all Hebrew words derive from a three-letter root. The root of Chanukah is the same as the root for chinuch (education) and for chanich (camper, initiate). In other words, in a beautiful piece of poetic connection, understanding Hebrew can be seen to be an early step of being initiated into the Jewish people in a meaningful way. In any event, the idea of education in Jewish life – whether formal, through school, or informal, through camps and youth groups – is meant to remind kids they are joining something much larger than themselves. And that can only be helped by being regularly exposed to the rich and eternally clever language of our people.

Mira Sucharov is an associate professor of political science at Carleton University. She blogs at Haaretz and the Jewish Daily Forward. This article was originally published in the Ottawa Jewish Bulletin.