By the time I entered the elementary school I attended, it had been around for nearly 50 years and was already in decline. Despite the challenges, there were two things which left a lasting impression. The Jewish studies, which occupied the first half of the day, were all conducted in Hebrew, Ivrit beIvrit; some of the teachers were dedicated, die-hard Hebraists who provided me with a very solid foundation. The Hebrew that I learned gave me access to Israeli songs popularized after the Six Day War and to classic Jewish texts—the siddur, Humash, and even to Gemara (yes, Aramaic and Hebrew are closely connected). The language enabled me to act as a translator when my father’s cousin came to visit from Israel, and even enabled me, years later, to attend a regular Israeli yeshiva—in Hebrew.

Aside from the Hebrew language, the school was suffused with Israeli culture.

בבתי ספר יהודיים בתפוצות, הוראת עברית נעה זה שנים בין שני קטבים: מחד, שפה של זהות, רגש וחיבור לעם ולמדינה; מאידך, מקצוע הנאבק על מקומו מול תחומי דעת הנתפסים כ”ליבתיים” ובעלי יוקרה אקדמית. כמנהל מחלקה לעברית וכמורה בבית ספר יהודי־ציוני, מצאתי את עצמי שואל לא פעם: האם תפקידי הוא להגיב לציפיות משתנות של תלמידים, הורים והקשר פוליטי, או שמא להציב חזון חינוכי ברור—גם במחיר של חיכוך, עומס ואתגר מערכתי. מתוך התבוננות בזהותי כמחנך עברי־ציוני ובחיבור לערכים שעליהם גדלתי, בחרתי לראות בעברית לא רק כלי זהותי אלא תחום דעת מלא: שפה חיה, תרבות עשירה, וספרות ושירה הראויות להילמד ללא התנצלות ובסטנדרטים אקדמיים ברורים.

A few days after October 7, I received an email from the parent of one of my students. The message itself was simple: a link to a video of the prayer for the soldiers of the Israel Defense Forces, set to music. But it was the words, written by the student, that stayed with me:

I’m sure you’ll like this video because you are Israeli. It’s a good song, very encouraging. I hope Hashem will watch over all our soldiers and bring them home safely so there will be peace.

This was not an assignment. No one had asked her to do this. It was an instinctive act of connection—a student using Hebrew, prayer, and music to reach out to her teacher and to Israel. In that moment, it became clear to me that Hebrew in my classroom had changed. It was no longer only a subject to be mastered; it had become a lifeline.

Jewish Educational Leadership: What do you see as the real value of shelihim?

Bini Krauss: Ivrit beIvrit has long been a central pillar of what we believe in. I know that there are fewer schools doing that today than there were twenty years ago, for sure, but it’s still something that’s very important to us. So the first thing is that if we want to do it properly, it’s probably good to have people who speak Ivrit as their native language. It’s not the only way to do it, but I believe that it is certainly the best way. Many years ago, I taught at the Yeshivah of Flatbush. I was not a native Hebrew speaker, but I think that I was pretty good. Nonetheless, it is much better for students to interact regularly with those for whom Hebrew is native.

Despite significant growth across nearly all curricular areas in recent decades, Hebrew language instruction remains a persistent challenge in many Jewish day schools. While schools throughout the diaspora have sought to address this issue by employing shelihim from Israel, this model has raised ongoing concerns, including a lack of continuity due to frequent staff turnover, uneven pedagogical training, differing cultural assumptions about teaching and learning, and questions of quality control. At the Moriah School (Englewood, NJ), these long-standing concerns converged with a broader question that many school communities face: How could it be that a child could spend twelve years in a Jewish day school and still struggle to speak Hebrew?

This urgent question became the catalyst for our recent initiative. The school’s leadership felt that the moment had arrived for a bold, systemic rethink. Student outcomes in many subjects were improving, yet progress in Hebrew remained stagnant.

אולי נתחיל בשאלה פשוטה מאוד. למה זה חשוב שיהודי בתפוצות ילמד עברית, ואיך זה משפיע על חייו?

אני חושב שהיא באמת שאלה מאוד מורכבת, מכיוון שאחד מהאתגרים הגדולים שיש היום בתפוצות הוא להתמודד עם השאלה “למה עברית?”. אני חושב שלכולם די ברור למה צריך לעסוק בתכנים יהודיים—בחלק מבתי הספר קוראים לזה מקצועות הקודש, בחלק מבתי הספר מגדירים את זה אחרת—אבל לכולם מאוד ברור שבית ספר יהודי צריך שתהיה לו זיקה ליהדות. אך מבחינת העברית יש היום הרבה מאוד סימני שאלה גדולים. ה”אני מאמין” שלי, והוא שלי בלבד, זה שאנחנו מלמדים עברית משתי סיבות. אלף, מתוך זה שהעברית היא חלק מהעולם היהודי. אי אפשר לנתק את העברית מכל ההיסטוריה היהודית. העברית היא הערך הבסיסי ביותר של היהדות.

In recent years, we have found ourselves returning to a question that feels both old and new: If early Zionist thinkers believed that reviving Hebrew could reshape Jewish life, how might they have imagined teaching it in communities far from the land where it would be revived? We are not historians of Zionist pedagogy, and we do not pretend to reconstruct their educational blueprints. But reading figures such as Ze’ev Jabotinsky alongside other early twentieth-century voices forces us to pause and plan intentionally. For them, Hebrew was never meant to function merely as a school subject. It was imagined as atmosphere, as music, as discipline, as shared inheritance. It was something that would seep into consciousness and form character.

Ze’ev Jabotinsky, founder of the Revisionist Zionist movement and the Betar youth organization, is often remembered for his political writings and sharp polemics. Yet woven throughout his speeches and essays is a sustained concern with formation.

אירועי השבעה באוקטובר ומה שאירע בעקבותיהם היו שבר שהשפעתו עדיין מהדהדת בכול. לא רק שערעור תחושת הביטחון, האמון, והאמונה שלי עצמי הקשו עליי לעמוד בכיתה וללמד ״כרגיל״, גם תלמידיי בצפון קליפורניה הרחוקה והבטוחה חשו שמשהו נסדק. בימים הראשונים שלאחר הטבח, תלמידים אמרו לי שלראשונה בחייהם הם נחשפים לגילויי אנטישמיות וחוששים לביטחונם האישי, או לעסק בעל הנראות היהודית מאוד של משפחתם. הדהימה אותי העובדה שגם בתיכון היהודי הקטן שבו אני מלמדת (180 תלמידים), תלמידים, אנשי סגל ומשפחותיהם הכירו אישית חטופים, ניצולים, לוחמים וחללים.

בשנת הלימודים 2024-2025, תכננתי ללמד את ההקבצה המתקדמת שלנו (כיתות ט׳-יב) קורס בספרות עברית. היחידה שעמה החלטתי לפתוח את השנה עוסקת ברב-לשוניות ורב-תרבותיות, נושא שמעסיק אותי בחיי האישיים והמקצועיים כאחד.

In recent years, we have found ourselves returning to a question that feels both old and new: If early Zionist thinkers believed that reviving Hebrew could reshape Jewish life, how might they have imagined teaching it in communities far from the land where it would be revived? We are not historians of Zionist pedagogy, and we do not pretend to reconstruct their educational blueprints. But reading figures such as Ze’ev Jabotinsky alongside other early twentieth-century voices forces us to pause and plan intentionally. For them, Hebrew was never meant to function merely as a school subject. It was imagined as atmosphere, as music, as discipline, as shared inheritance. It was something that would seep into consciousness and form character.

Ze’ev Jabotinsky, founder of the Revisionist Zionist movement and the Betar youth organization, is often remembered for his political writings and sharp polemics. Yet woven throughout his speeches and essays is a sustained concern with formation.

כמעט שמונה עשורים מהווים בתי הספר “המלך דויד” (King David) ביוהנסבורג רשת של בתי ספר יהודיים, הפועלת תחת חסות ועד החינוך היהודי בדרום אפריקה. הרשת כוללת ארבעה קמפוסים ומציעה חינוך מגיל גן ועד תיכון, במסגרת משותפת לבנים ולבנות, ובה לומדים כיום כ־2700 תלמידים ומלמדים כ־385 מורים. בתי הספר פועלים ברוח אורתודוקסית-מסורתית, תוך פתיחות וקבלת תלמידים ממשפחות יהודיות מגוונות. לצד חינוך כללי ברמה גבוהה, מושם דגש משמעותי על לימודי עברית ולימודי יהדות, כחלק מתפיסה חינוכית הרואה בשפה, במסורת ובקשר למדינת ישראל מרכיבים מרכזיים בזהותם של התלמידים. במסגרת קהילה יהודית מגובשת ובעלת ציפיות ברורות, בתי הספר שואפים לחנך תלמידים בעלי זהות יהודית וציונית, תחושת שייכות, ואחריות כלפי הקהילה והחברה.

כאשר התחלתי להוביל את תחום העברית בבית הספר, הבנתי שהשאלה איננה כמה שעות עברית נלמדות (למרות שאף זו שאלה חשובה), אלא איזה מעמד יש לעברית בתרבות הבית ספרית.

The following interview has been edited for clarity and brevity.

Jewish Educational Leadership: Many of our readers are familiar with what a shinshin is, but not all. Can you tell us briefly?

Shira Rafalovitz: Sure. Shinshin is short for shenat sherut, a year of service. It is a year of volunteer work that some Israelis do before they start the army. Most people do their sherut in Israel, volunteering in lots of different places, but some of us choose to go overseas to work in schools or Jewish communities where we think that we can help build bridges between Jewish communities around the world and Israel. I got placed in Detroit, where I did most of my work at Frankel Jewish Academy, the high school. I also did some teaching in a Sunday school with younger kids and with a synagogue.

Ben Porat Yosef (BPY) is an Early Childhood-8th grade Modern Orthodox yeshiva day school (Paramus, NJ). The school was founded 25 years ago, initially as a Sephardic educational institution, and shortly thereafter shifting to our current model as a dual-curriculum Sephardic and Ashkenazic school, where students who hail from either heritage and tradition are welcomed and celebrated. Moreover, the educational program trains our students in the laws, customs, and culture of the varied Sephardic and Ashkenazic traditions.

The other core element of our mission is to develop in our students a love for Am Yisrael, Eretz Yisrael, and Medinat Yisrael. This is executed in a variety of ways, and two central components are our Hebrew Immersion model and our shelihim program.

Many Diaspora day schools aspire to effectively teach Judaic Studies in Ivrit, for both philosophical and educational reasons. However, there are several significant challenges that have likely contributed to less-than-ideal implementation in the broader field.

In supplemental school settings, there is so much for our students to learn in so little time. With a focus on learning Jewish traditions and preparing for Benei Mitzvah services, students often interact with Hebrew as an ancient language used in prayer and the Torah. It can be challenging for educators to allocate additional preparation and class time for students to experience Hebrew as a modern, spoken language.

Congregation Beth Elohim (Acton, Massachusetts) is an independent synagogue of about 200 families. We strive to foster a warm, welcoming, and inclusive environment that fulfills the ever-changing needs of our Jewish community. Our supplemental Religious School includes students from kindergarten through 10th Grade. We seek to create a learning environment that is warm and engaging, and to create a love of learning and a strong Jewish connection that will stay with our students throughout their lives.

Over the past several years, I’ve found myself in the same conversation again and again with teachers, department chairs, and school leaders who care deeply about Hebrew but feel stuck. Not stuck because of a lack of passion, and not even because of a lack of resources, but because of something harder to name: a lack of shared clarity.

The questions come in different forms: What is the role of Hebrew in Jewish day schools today? Why teach Hebrew? Why learn Hebrew? What is Hebrew meant to accomplish? What should a graduate of a Jewish day school know and be able to do in Hebrew? Who is an effective Hebrew educator? What does effective Hebrew language teaching and learning actually look like?

At first, these questions may sound abstract. However, strong frameworks can help shape very real decisions: how time is used, how teaching is approached, which curricula are chosen, and how educators are supported.

The transformations of the 21st century bring with them fundamental changes in the way we understand second language acquisition processes. Social, cultural, and economic shifts are creating a reality in which intercultural and multilingual interactions are becoming central to our daily lives. In this reality, researchers and educators who teach languages are called upon to be attentive and open to change, and to adapt instruction to evolving contexts, to prepare learners to navigate a complex and unpredictable world. Accordingly, there is a growing need to adopt an updated perspective on second language acquisition, one that is suited to a dynamic reality and reflects the broad cultural and identity-related contexts within which language learning takes place.

Many education systems are now aware of the need for reforms and the renewal of content and teaching methods, so that these may incorporate, as an inherent part of the learning process, the new skills that students require in the 21st century: communication skills, creativity, critical thinking, problem solving, and collaboration.