This essay is an abridged version of a 35-page pamphlet I wrote that was recently published by ATID. The full version of the paper, entitled “Sharpening the Message: Recommendations for Improving the Effectiveness of Religious Education in Yeshiva High Schoolsâ€, expands on these thoughts in more detail and provides additional support and documentation. It can be downloaded from ATID’s website here - [
atid.org]
While my research and recommendations focused primarily on Modern Orthodox Yeshiva High Schools in the United States, I believe the message is fairly universal, and can be adapted and applied to many other Jewish educational settings.
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There may be no endeavor more rewarding, and simultaneously more frustrating, than Jewish education.
As with most things, the rewards and the frustration stem from a single source, in this case the sheer magnitude and significance of our task. We mechanchim and mechanchot are charged with the mission of passing on the eternal truths of our Torah to the next generation, inspiring them to carry forward that which we received from our own teachers, and thus becoming a crucial link in the chain of mesorah. We take that responsibility very seriously, and therefore rejoice at every success and fret over every setback.
Generally speaking, we tend to concentrate our efforts on two objectives. Firstly, as teachers we naturally want to teach. Our goal is to transmit the holy texts of the Torah, and the ideas they contain, to the next generation. We want our students to be Jewishly knowledgeable and to be conversant – both literally and figuratively – in the texts of our tradition.
But we also have a deeper goal. We will not be satisfied if our students are simply well-informed and skilled. Our mission is to ensure that the Torah they learn penetrates their souls and transforms their very beings. Yes, we want our students to learn the Torah. But even more importantly, we want them to live the Torah.
With the help of a fellowship generously provided by ATID, I took some time during a mid-career pause in my own work as an educator to ask two questions that I know plague other mechanchim as they have plagued me for the past few decades: How well are we accomplishing our tasks, and what can we do to improve?
Seeking answers, I spent a year and a half reading and researching. I conducted formal interviews with a number of principals and teachers from high schools across the United States, and with recent graduates currently studying in Israel. Informally, I conferred with friends, colleagues and students.
I determined that the current state of Modern Orthodox education – indeed of Modern Orthodoxy itself – can be described as a paradox: on the one hand, our efforts over the past few decades have been phenomenally successful, and at the same time there is so much that cries out for improvement. Both halves of that sentence are true and neither one negates the other.
Torah education has flourished in our communities. We have managed to give increasing numbers of people both the skills and the motivation to continue their formal Jewish education on a lifelong basis. Thousands of Jews of all ages and backgrounds, both male and female, currently participate in regular programs of Torah study, something that was once confined to the ivory towers of the batei midrash.
And yet, many teachers have been expressing increasing amounts of concern. Educators at the leading one-year programs in Israel report that a very high percentage of students entering their programs cannot read or understand a sentence in Biblical or Rabbinic Hebrew, and many even lack the skills to pronounce the words properly. Furthermore, although students are often able to repeat back information they have learned in school, teachers have registered an increasing lack of ability to analyze information or discuss it with any degree of sophistication. Much recent energy has been expended on understanding and addressing this enigmatic dichotomy. It has become popular to place the blame on certain features of contemporary culture, or on the ostensibly pernicious influences of the internet and related technologies, but few practical suggestions have emerged regarding how to confront the challenges.
Religiously as well, our communities have demonstrated extremely impressive growth, both quantitatively and qualitatively, over the past few decades. At the same time, however, Modern Orthodoxy is beset by many challenges. To put it bluntly, we are not holding on to all of our children. For example, anyone familiar with the situation on university campuses is aware of the alarming numbers of students from Orthodox homes who abandon religious observance there (often within a very short time).
Furthermore, even among those who do remain religious, spiritual life in our communities often seems like an empty shell. Rabbis bemoan the widespread violation of various Jewish laws and loud socializing during Shabbat morning services, and often acknowledge that they feel powerless to change the situation. The recent internet discussion of “Social Orthodoxy†makes clear that even in large, thriving communities with frequent minyanim and many religious amenities, the genuine religiosity we try to transmit is often sorely lacking.
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Over the course of researching this project, a few observations about the American Modern Orthodox Yeshiva High School system crystalized in my mind.
First of all, as strange as this may sound, rabbis and teachers in Orthodox schools and synagogues talk very little about God. And, when they do talk about God, they often fail to help their students build a relationship with Him. We study texts from the Bible and the Talmud, and talk about important aspects of halachic life such as Shabbat, the holidays, and prayer. Of course, those things all have much to do with God, and He features prominently in the discussions, but we do not talk much about Him directly, or about how to interact with Him in any meaningful way.
Not only do we not talk very much about God, but even when we do speak about Torah topics, these discussions often have an academic feel, with little attention paid to drawing personal, spiritual or religious significance from the texts. Limudei kodesh teachers undoubtedly view their texts and subjects as unique, authoritative and holy, and the students understand this as well, but teachers generally do not address this point explicitly. And in the infrequent instances when they do speak about it, the conversations may be brief and dry. Perhaps we simply assume that our students understand why they study the sacred texts, and that the words of Torah speak loudly enough to be heard on their own.
We need to rethink those assumptions, though, because our students are not necessarily internalizing those messages. In theory, they understand that Torah is singular and meant to be different than anything else they study. In practice, however, their classroom realities do not play out that way. Their limudei kodesh classes are generally treated as subjects that they must study for the sake of getting good grades and being accepted to a good college. Any other aspect of this learning and anything else they are meant to take from it often remains undeveloped.
Furthermore, on those rare occasions when we do engage in discussions about God and theology, or related topics like faith and prayer, we do not necessarily provide students with sufficient opportunity to process and personalize these topics on the emotional and spiritual levels.
This may be related, at least in part, to constantly increasing academic challenges. Teachers may feel that they simply do not have the luxury of taking class time to devote to this sort of pursuit.
Or perhaps there is another cause, a problem we may even share with secular educators. We want our students to take their Jewish studies classes at least as seriously as they take their general studies classes. In science or history class we would never devote time to reflective discussions, or ask students “what does this mean to your life?†(though some would argue that we should) and maybe for that reason we are averse to doing so in our Torah classes.
Whatever the reason for the lack of processing time, it is a short-sighted policy. If we want our students to be affected by the Torah they learn, we must give them structured opportunities to make that happen. And secondly, I believe that engaging our students emotionally and spiritually with their learning will help them academically as well.
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Perhaps in part to compensate for the above-mentioned shortcomings, our schools and communities have been investing considerable time and resources on informal and affective education aimed at motivating youth toward religious observance and affiliation with the Orthodox community. These programs frequently achieve a high level of success. There are powerful advantages to relaxed and enjoyable programs that students attend voluntarily, and which do not involve the pressure of tests and grades.
These extra-curricular and informal education programs generally operate through methods of emotional inspiration like song, dance and inspiring speakers, and also work to create and reinforce social connections among the students and relationships with faculty. These programs thus build and strengthen two very powerful forces that can motivate people to commit themselves to religious observance: emotion and community.
Essentially, then, we have divided our educational program into two distinct compartments: the academic program based in the classrooms is designed to impart knowledge and skills through intellectual and cognitive activities, and the informal educational program is designed to inspire religious feelings and commitments using primarily emotional, interpersonal and social tools. Our hope is that these two components will complement one another to create a complete religious experience.
The problem, however, is that the way it stands, the two elements do not sufficiently interact with one another, and in most cases we are actually running a bifurcated program. I believe that this is a mistake, and that the split is responsible for some of the shortcomings of our current system. The energy we’ve invested in non-academic education has made a decisively positive impact. But in the process of successfully addressing one problem, we have created a different one.
To put it bluntly: I suspect that we have unintentionally taught our students that Torah texts belong in school, and are to be studied primarily for the purpose of grades. We have communicated that message by teaching texts and skills in a rigorous way, but without talking much about God, religion or the spiritual significance of these texts. And we have compounded the problem by running the classrooms as primarily academic environments without allotting enough time for processing whatever spiritual or religious issues do come up.
By doing so, we have essentially created a behaviorist model for religious observance, by encouraging behaviors that reinforce commitment and belonging to the community. This method is likely responsible for much of our success.
But a religious identity based heavily on this method is also quite limited. For one thing, when people with such an identity find themselves without a supportive environment, and especially when there are behavioral incentives against religious observance (for example on campus), they have very few resources from which to draw strength to resist pressure. And even when behavioral incentives do exist and are used effectively, an over-reliance on these incentives carries a very real risk of producing the type of shallow “Social Orthodox†Jews mentioned above. Although we inspire many of our students with our religious programming, that inspiration may lack depth due to its weak association with their intellectual classroom work.
Further, my hunch is that this lack of connection between the two spheres is also the key to understanding the shortcomings we identified in the academic aspect of our education. It might well be that we are seeing less motivation to do hard academic work because students are not convinced of its value. If we reduce the bifurcation and create a stronger bond between the two spheres, we could aim for symbiosis. The inspiration generated in the informal program would motivate students to put more effort into their studies, and the academic knowledge they acquire in class would provide an intellectual foundation for the lifestyle we’ve inspired them to lead.
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Therefore, my recommendations emphasize integrating the two spheres of our program into a single holistic unit by applying some of the methods and content of each one to the other, and by guiding students to draw connections between the different parts. We must also provide them with tools to think deeply and personally about these issues.
This integrated approach will express a unified religious world-view rooted in the eternal truths of the Torah. By infusing the academic classes with explicit religious and spiritual content as well as building in “spiritual processing timeâ€, we can encourage our students to create an intellectual basis for their religious beliefs and lifestyle. And by referencing these lessons in the affective parts of our programs, we can help the students to build religious commitments that are based on faith and understanding alongside the emotional and social elements.
In practical terms, my proposal contains four specific recommendations:
1) The first point is deceptively simple: every school must clarify the principles upon which it stands, and what its goals are for its students. This means that the school should have a clearly-defined religious education mission statement that contains at least three components: what the school hopes its students will know when they graduate, what it hopes they will believe and how it hopes they will act. The students should be very familiar with this mission statement.
This point may seem obvious – but in reality it often isn’t done. While most schools do have mission statements that at least briefly address religious goals alongside other goals of the school (such as secular academics), and these statements appear on the schools’ websites and in recruiting pamphlets, students are typically able to articulate only a very vague version of what their school represents.
If we want our students to be transformed by their studies, the first step is to tell them that. Why do they spend so much of their day studying Torah? What do we hope they will take from this study? What do we expect from them? If we do not tell them, they may never know.
The particular details of this statement will, perforce, vary from school to school and from community to community. However, the fundamental point is universal: the mission and message must be articulated to the students.
2) What is true for a school overall is equally true for each classroom. It is not enough to simply teach the Torah texts and concepts; our students need to understand why they are learning particular material. Further, they must be given structured opportunities to integrate this material into their lives.
In practice, this means that, after ensuring that our staff understands and identifies with the mission statement we repeatedly share with our students, they must consider how to apply that vision in each of their own classrooms. This will probably require teachers to make some moderate adjustments in their teaching methods.
Different subjects must still be taught in different ways, and pedagogical styles will of course still vary. However, in every classroom the teacher should: (1) Address explicitly and regularly the belief that the study of Torah is a holy and spiritual act and that the material we learn is meant to profoundly impact on our lives; (2) apply those principles to the specific material studied in that class; and (3) guide students to spiritually process their learning in a way that is personally meaningful to them.
Adoption of this model will require teacher training. Such training can take many forms: It could be a series of in-service days for the entire faculty, or more extensive courses of study or individual mentoring for teachers. Naturally, training new teachers in the approach would call for different resources than training seasoned faculty.
3) Periodically, it’s important to evaluate the school’s curriculum and to make sure that we are teaching the most important subjects. In principle, every Torah subject can and should religiously inspire. Nonetheless, it behooves us to review our curricula and determine if the subjects we teach are the ones most critical to our students’ Jewish well-being. In the full version of this paper, I devoted several pages to some specific suggestions.
4) Finally, the informal, affective part of the school’s educational program should be more closely integrated with the formal part. There are several different ways in which this can be done.
To start, the excitement generated at these programs can be channeled back into the classroom, by explicitly addressing the imperative to not only care, feel and do, but also to learn. The religious and spiritual value of learning Torah, as well as the values of a religious lifestyle, can be the subjects of inspirational speeches and interactive programming. At some point during these programs, someone should speak about the daily classes the students attend, and how those classes serve as spiritual and religious opportunities.
Additionally, the topics of informal education can be coordinated with the academic curriculum, in order to address the same subjects from different angles. By doing so, as we build emotional and social support structures to help our students maintain their religious lifestyles, we can infuse these with intellectual content and a sense of purpose. This will better equip them to withstand the pressures to drop their affiliations, and will also help them develop deeper and more genuine religious personalities.
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I hope that this essay, and the expanded version available in the pamphlet from ATID (again, you can download it here) will succeed in beginning a conversation on this important topic. To the extent that you, my colleagues in the field, agree with my proposals, let us begin to discuss how to implement them. To the extent that you disagree, let us debate the issue and discuss alternatives. Either way, I hope we can take this opportunity to take further steps to advance our holy cause.
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 06/24/2014 01:24PM by mlb.
