Wednesday, December 22, 2010

A Brunswick Stew At N.J. Charter School

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

To defend a country you need an army, but to defend an identify you need schools

Chief Rabbi Lord Sacks
History itself has a history. What events seem to signify at the time is not how they are seen in the full perspective of hindsight. Take Hannukah, the festival we are in the midst of celebrating today. 

Open the First and Second Books of Maccabees and you find yourself reading a story of military courage. Since the days of Alexander the Great, Israel had been under the rule of the Greeks, first under the Ptolemies based in Egypt, then a century later under the Seleucids who ruled from Syria.

One Seleucid leader, Antiochus IV, decided to force the pace of the hellenisation of the Jews, publicly banning the practices of Judaism. In its place he installed a statue of Zeus in the precincts of the Temple and had swine sacrificed to it. To the Jews it was the “abomination of desolation.”

Led by an elderly priest Mattityahu and his sons, a group of Jews known as the Maccabees rose in revolt. They won a victory, reconquered Jerusalem, cleansed the Temple and relit its candelabrum, the menorah. That remains the most visible symbol of the festival to this day. We light it in our homes for eight nights, adding an extra candle for each night.

That is how history seemed at the time: a story of armies, battles, and physical heroism.
But the Books of Maccabees never found their way into the Hebrew Bible. That is not how Jews came to remember the past.

The reason is that the victory was relatively short-lived. Jews won their confrontation with the Greeks, but they lost it with the Romans. A century later Pompey invaded Israel, which then came under Roman rule. When this too became oppressive, Jews twice rose in revolt, in the first and second centuries. Both were national disasters. After the first, the Temple was destroyed. After the second, Jerusalem was laid waste. Taken together, these were the worst Jewish catastrophe until the Holocaust.

But the Talmud tells a fascinating story. In the first century, shortly before the destruction of the Temple, a rabbi called Joshua ben Gamla organised the creation of a national network of schools, providing for the education of children throughout the country. It was the first system of universal education in history. The Talmud says that were it not for him “the Torah would have been forgotten in Israel.” There would have been no Judaism, no identity, and no Jews.

Joshua ben Gamla understood that the real battle Jews faced was not military at all. It was cultural and spiritual. Did they care enough about their faith to hand it on to their children? Did they believe that despite the great achievements of the Greeks in art, architecture, literature and philosophy, Jews still had a contribution to make to the world that was distinctively their own?

A new Jewish identity began to emerge, based not armies but on texts and teachers and houses of study. Jews became a people whose citadels were schools, whose heroes were teachers and whose passion was education and the life of the mind. And they survived. That was the remarkable thing.

The transformation of meaning over time is echoed in the very name of Hannukah itself. It means “dedication,” what the Maccabees did to the Temple after it had been cleansed. But the same word, in the form Hinnukh, also came to mean “education,” the dedication or consecration of the young as guardians of a sacred identity. The lights of Hannukah came to symbolise the holiness of the Jewish home.

The West today is fighting some difficult military battles. But there is also, as there was for Jews twenty-two centuries ago, a cultural and spiritual battle to be fought: not to impose our values on others, but to teach them to our children.

Do we still have a clear sense of who we are as a nation?  Do we have shared values?  Do we still believe in the sanctity of the family?  Do our lives have spiritual depth and moral beauty? Do we see ourselves as guardians of a tradition that we hand on with pride to our children? The future of the West may turn on our answers to those questions. To defend a country you need an army. But to defend an identity you need schools.

Aaron Listhaus to head Hebrew charter school incubator

Aaron Listhaus to head Hebrew charter school incubator

NEW YORK (JTA) -- Aaron Listhaus, the chief academic officer for New York City’s Office of Charter Schools, will take over as the head of the Hebrew Charter School Center.
Listhaus, who has spent a year-and-a half helping to oversee nearly 70 authorized charter schools in New York City, will assume his new post in January. 
The Hebrew Charter School Center is a nonprofit organization created by the Areivim Philanthropic Group in 2009 to help advance the Hebrew language charter school movement. Based in New York, the center works with planning teams and existing charter schools across the United States to build capacity for designing new Hebrew language charter schools, provide resources for established schools, train teachers, create a network of Hebrew language charter schools, and help communities start the schools.
“I am thrilled to be joining the Hebrew Charter School Center team and have an opportunity to be at the forefront of this exciting new movement that is bringing innovative, high-quality, dual-language public schools of choice to children across the country,” Listhaus said. “It brings together my personal experience of learning Hebrew as a young child, my teaching experience in a dual-language setting and my work in school design and support to the development and promotion of a network of Hebrew Language Charter Schools across the country. I can’t wait to get started.”
In New York, Listhaus was responsible for the academic programs of the charter schools.

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Hebrew charters - a welcome addition

December 8, 2010

Hebrew charters — a welcome addition

Hearing the panicked responses from day school advocates around the country to the notion of Hebrew charter schools puts me in mind of watching a zoning board hearing where, in their zeal to stop virtually any new project before it starts, neighbors stop up their ears lest they hear of potential benefits.
I am a day school advocate. But more than that, like other day school advocates, I am a Jewish education advocate. I suggest we avoid the trap of institutional protectionism, and instead watch out for opportunities to achieve our larger goal: a revival of Jewish education in the United States.
Non-Orthodox day schools have a glorious, if short, history. While only a handful of schools enrolled a small pioneer population in the 1950s, by the year 2000 well over 35,000 students attended nearly 160 Schechter (Conservative), Pardes (Reform) and Ravsak (community) schools in the United States. Studies have documented the success of these schools’ graduates in college and their continued commitment to living a Jewish life. These students spent 30 to 40 percent of their time in school learning Hebrew and Jewish studies. They absorbed Bible and rabbinical tradition. They engaged in prayer, sang Jewish songs and acquired synagogue skills, not to mention Hebrew language and a commitment to tikkun olam and to Israel. Of the Jewish educational options available to young people, including camps, religious schools and Birthright, day school graduates are the best-equipped and most likely to live Jewish lives as adults.
It is, indeed, a shame that not every Jewish child can or will receive a Jewish day school education. The majority will not. Because that is categorically true, we should both seek and welcome creative ideas that could bring Jewish education to the otherwise Jewishly unschooled.
The objections to Hebrew charters fall into four categories: competition with day schools for students; competition with day schools for funds; church-state issues; and the lack of Jewish content in Hebrew charter schools.
There are plenty of Jewish kids out there to compete for, as the Jewish population who would never consider day schools must outweigh those who would by several orders of magnitude. At the most, many of these kids would attend afternoon religious school once or twice a week for a few years. Many will attend nothing. Yes, poorly placed Hebrew charter schools could draw a few students from existing Jewish day schools, and yes, it is therefore Jewishly unscrupulous, indeed immoral, for Hebrew charters to open within proximity of existing day schools, as has happened in Miami. But putting those few instances aside, why would it be bad if children who would have learned little or no Hebrew became Hebrew-speakers instead?
Competition for funds is, on the surface, a serious concern. But, with his open hostility to Judaism as a religion, we cannot expect Michael Steinhardt, the mastermind and funder of the Hebrew Charter School Center, to go beyond the day school projects he already supports by providing significant new funding for day schools, nearly all of which view themselves as carrying at least partly a religious mission. To be sure, Hebrew charter schools will initiate fundraising that could compete with day schools at a time of compelling financial need, and therefore coordination and cooperation will be called for, but competition among worthy organizations for funding is a constant in the nonprofit world.
Hebrew charter schools will have no choice but to steer clear of religious instruction in order to pass muster in the courts, so the church-state question is a self-answering problem. On the other hand, let us be honest and admit that what many champions of charter schools really want is to enhance Jewish identity by using public funds. One does wonder if at some point the courts or Congress will pull the plug.
Which brings us to the most important objection. Is learning Hebrew and Hebrew culture enough? Most parents who send their kids to day or religious schools want their children introduced to religious education, to the synagogue and to Jewish values, all of which would, for constitutional reasons, need to be separated from charter schools as meticulously as milk from meat. But perhaps that opens new possibilities. After all, religious schools try, in at best four hours a week, to give kids a smattering of Hebrew, Bible, prayer and all the rest. Hebrew is always the stumbling block because language learning takes lots of time.  Imagine the potential if children started afternoon religious school in third or fourth grade already knowing more Hebrew than a typical bar/bat mitzvah child?  Think of the rich educational possibilities for what the religious school could then accomplish in those four precious hours.
Will Hebrew charter schools work? It is way too soon to tell. We do know that charter schools do not outperform typical public schools, as has been evidenced by recent studies. We know that starting up a school and maintaining it is a monumental undertaking fraught with danger.
But we need as many options as possible to attract the vast pool of Jewishly undereducated kids. Hebrew charter schools may offer a worthwhile, though only partial, answer to the question of how to draw more children into Jewish education.
Jewish day schools, with their surprisingly wide array of religious orientations, high levels of available financial aid and traditions of educational excellence, will continue to be the ticket for parents who want their children to grow up within their community, to learn the value of caring for other Jews, to develop ease with Jewish religious life, to develop spiritually and to have all of that integrated with a high standard of general academic learning.
But if Hebrew charters attract a different segment of the population, one that might otherwise give their kids a next-to-nothing Jewish education, it seems to me that, on balance, the experiment can only be for the good.
Rabbi Laurence Scheindlin is headmaster at Sinai Akiba Academy, a K-8 Jewish day school in Los Angeles.


http://www.jewishjournal.com/education/article/hebrew_charters_a_welcome_addition_20101208/