Report Cards (IV)

Long time since the last post. Been busy with the very report cards that I've spoken about (here, here, and here). Another incredible minhag that we have here (as I've said before, this minhag may exist elsewhere; I myself, however, have never seen it in the States or in Israel).

Before giving out the report cards, the Mechanech (I've written about that before) meets with every student and describes/explains the grades, reads through the comments together, etc. They then discuss how to build on the strengths and focus on areas that need improvement.

It's an incredible experience to watch: the report cards are no longer static, they no longer represent the past, and they no longer represent a simple communication from teachers to parents. It is transformed into a tool - for teacher, parent, and student - for growth for the future.

I Refuse to do a "Meme"

The title says it all.

I have been thinking about whether to join the Meme craze... and decided against it. Still, a list:

5 Movies that have Powerful Messages That I Would Show Students (in no Particular Order)

[Warning: Some of these movies may have profanity, violence and/or scenes that are absolutely inappropriate for students. A few suggestions: Educate yourself about the movies and their questionable scenes (use, for example, Screenit.com). Second, use a recorded TV version. Third possibility, get your DVD from a site that legally edits your video (such as http://www.familyfriendlyvideo.ca/ or http://www.cleanflicks.com/). I think it goes without saying that a great video with a powerful message is worth nothing if the opposite message is sent (such as, "Even my Rabbi recommended a movie with curse words, inappropriate scenes, etc.!"). Educate yourself before recommending the video!]

• Braveheart - I think the courage to stand up for what you believe in, in addition to the idea that one person can, indeed, change the world, make this movie more than outstanding for high school students.
• Scent of a Woman - The most powerful movie that I've seen (not that I've seen a lot of movies!) about aging and coming to grips with effects of diminishing abilities. It is also a fantastic depiction of living in the past, owning up to one's responsibilities and valuing a person for what s/he is and does and not for what they look like or with whom they associate.
• The Godfather - Just a great movie that shows when and how people change and the drastic twists and turns that our life takes... if you're a mafia boss.
• A Beautiful Mind - The power of the mind and the power of love - sticking with someone because you love them. Like Scent of a Woman, it's also about, valuing a person for what s/he is and not for what they look like or with whom they associate.
• Shawshank Redemption - Sticktuitiveness. The good are rewarded and the bad punished... eventually. Have patience. Also a great movie around Pesach time about how Hashem had to train Bnei Yisrael to become free not just to take them out of Egypt.

"... One Who Learns from Every Person." (II)

Another "only in Israel" post.

We have a little shop (makolet) near the school where I work which is owned and operated by a older gentleman who has been in Israel since he was born.

How nice it is to have someone who speaks with the students about the "olden days"- pre-1967, etc. They hear what it was like to live in an aluminum-walled "house" on a small yishuv near Bet Shemesh. They are riveted with stories of the Six Day War and how he heard the shells and bullets while he worked! And on and on and on! The stories never end.

It is simply fascinating to acquire a wealth of history with every soda that I buy.

Before the Law (II)

Thank you ivrit b'ivrit for your comment on the last post. You said:

"i do not really get it. in what ways do you understand this story?"

I guess I should explain. I think this story is a great mashal (parable) for us as teachers and, in reality, for all of us in general.

The story is of a man who, for his entire life, has been trying to gain "admittance to the Law." He tries everything only to find out, at the end of his life, that he has failed. The guard realizes that the man has...

...reached his end, and, to let his failing senses catch the words, roars in his ear: "No one else could ever be admitted here, since this gate was made only for you. I am now going to shut it."

How often do we try other people's methods to learn, to grow, to gain "admittance to the Law" to grow in Torah (my understanding, not Kafka's!) only to realize that we ourselves held the key to our own success. It has always been in our power, the trick is to recognize that we can.

In Avot D’Rebbe Natan 41:1 it says:
There are 3 crowns in the world, the crown of Torah, the crown of priesthood, and the crown of royalty, but the crown of a good name rises above them all. The crown of priesthood, even if you give all the silver and gold in the world, you will not receive it.... The crown of royalty, even if you give all the silver and gold in the world, you will not receive it.... But the crown of Torah is not like that, to toil in the Torah, whoever wants, can come and take it....

The idea in Torah is that anyone can and should have access to it. However, there is one stipulation: "כל הרוצה ליטול יבוא ויטול" - Whoever wants to take [the "crown of Torah"], can come and take it." S/he has to want to take it. It does not happen on its own.

I think that is the message of the story in the last post. Let me know what you think.

Before the Law

How often is this us?

From the novel The Trial, taken without permission from the book Franz Kafka: The Complete Stories, published by Shocken Books, 1971

Before the Law by Franz Kafka

Before the Law stands a doorkeeper. To this doorkeeper there comes a man from the country and prays for admittance to the Law. But the doorkeeper says that he cannot grant admittance at the moment. The man thinks it over and then asks if he will be allowed in later. "It is possible," says the doorkeeper, "but not at the moment." Since the gate stands open, as usual, and the doorkeeper steps to one side, the man stoops to peer through the gateway into the interior. Observing that, the doorkeeper laughs and says: "If you are so drawn to it, just try to go in despite my veto. But take note: I am powerful. And I am only the least of the doorkeepers. From hall to hall there is one doorkeeper after another, each more powerful than the last. The third doorkeeper is already so terrible that even I cannot bear to look at him." These are difficulties the man from the country has not expected; the Law, he thinks, should surely be accessible at all times and to everyone, but as he now takes a closer look at the doorkeeper in his fur coat, with his big sharp nose and long, thin, black Tartar beard, he decides that it is better to wait until he gets permission to enter. The doorkeeper gives him a stool and lets him sit down at one side of the door. There he sits for days and years. He makes many attempts to be admitted, and wearies the doorkeeper by his importunity. The doorkeeper frequently has little intervies with him, asking him questions about his home and many other things, but the questions are put indifferently, as great lords put them, and always finish with the statement that he cannot be let in yet. The man, who has furnished himself with many things for his journey, sacrifices all he has, however valuable, to bribe the doorkeeper. The doorkeeper accepts everything, but always with the remark: "I am only taking it to keep you from thinking you have omitted anything." During these many years the man fixes his attention almost continuously on the doorkeeper. He forgets the other doorkeepers, and this first one seems to him the sole obstacle preventing access to the Law. He curses his bad luck, in his early years boldly and loudly; later, as he grows old, he only grumbles to himself. He becomes childish, and since in his yearlong contemplation of the doorkeeper he has come to know even the fleas in his fur collar, he begs the fleas as well to help him and to change the doorkeeper's mind. At length his eyesight begins to fail, and he does not know whether the world is really darker or whether his eyes are only deceiving him. Yet in his darkness he is now aware of a radiance that streams inextinguishably from the gateway of the Law. Now he has not very long to live. Before he dies, all his experiences in these long years gather themselves in his head to one point, a question he has not yet asked the doorkeeper. He waves him nearer, since he can no longer raise his stiffening body. The doorkeeper has to bend low toward him, for the difference in height between them has altered much to the man's disadvantage. "What do you want to know now?" asks the doorkeeper; "you are insatiable." "Everyone strives to reach the Law," says the man, "so how does it happen that for all these many years no one but myself has ever begged for admittance?" The doorkeeper recognizes that the man has reached his end, and, to let his failing senses catch the words, roars in his ear: "No one else could ever be admitted here, since this gate was made only for you. I am now going to shut it."

Report Cards (III)

In school, we were struggling with how to measure Tefilla on the report card. If I give a student an A or a C in davening, what does that mean? Am I really able to judge another person's kavana?

Maybe I should only measure how a student act in Tefilla and call it "Behavior in Tefilla." But then what grade do you give a child who sits there very quietly, with no siddur and never saying a word to G-d or anyone around him? Is that an A (he behaved nicely) or an F? But then we're not really judging behavior, we're judging behavior we're judging something else. Maybe we should call it "Behaving like a mitpalel."

As I said, we were struggling.

I have twice discussed report cards in Israel (here and here). In the second of those posts, I discussed the self-assessment portion of the report cards and how great that is.

We decided to do that for Tefilla as well.

Each student, for his report card, has to write a mini-essay on how he thinks his tefilla has been going since the beginning of the year. He can write about a specific tefilla or a part of tefilla that was particularly meaningful. Or he can write about things in tefilla that make it hard for him to concentrate. Or he can write about ways he suggests that his tefilla can improve. Whatever he thinks is important for himself and for his parents and for his teachers to know about his own tefilla experience thus far in the year.

We'll see how it goes, but I like the fact - as I mentioned in the last Report Cards post - of the students themselves taking part in their growth. It sounds silly to say, but it bears repeating: The students themselves are an integral part in their own development as mitpalelim.

Speaking Like a Native (II)

Whether I like to admit it or not, language is a bit of a barrier between people with different mother tongues. Though my accent is terrible, I have a pretty decent vocabulary and I conjugate my verbs relatively well. Still, I have to admit that there is a gap or a distancing between myself and the students because of language.

(In the first week of school, I tried to have the students my shiur pair up with each other for chavruta. Of course, who knew that the verb "to pair up" in Hebrew also has biological and/or anatomical implications? You can guess the rest!)

I don’t think the gap is great, I do not think that there is no way to lessen it, and I do not think that it impacts deleteriously on my overall relationship with the students.

Still, it’s important that I recognize the gap and not pretend it doesn’t exist.

Chessed shel Emmet

In this week's parsha, Yaakov makes Yosef take an oath that Yosef will bury his father in Eretz Yisrael. In his introduction to this task, Yaakov asks his son to do for him "chesed v'emet" (kindness and truth).

Rashi explains that burying the dead is an act of chesed shel emet because the person doing the act does not expect any payback from the recipient. The Siftei Chachamim (Rav Shabtai Bass, Poland, 1641-1718 one of the primary commentaries on Rashi), says that chesed shel emet is not limited only to burial of the dead. Rather, it refers to any act of kindness for which the person performing the kindness expects nothing in return.

Two questions:

1) A person involved in burying the dead does receive rewards! S/he often gets paid for the work, ofetn gets the gratitude of the family and is often honored at dinners, etc. (at least I hope so!). If so, to what is Rashi referring when he says that a person involved in these kinds of acts gets nothing in return?

2) When the Siftei Chachamim says any act of kindness for which the person receives nothing in return is called a chesed shel emet, what other actions could he be including?

I think the answer to both questions is this: despite the fact that a person who does taharot and other incredible acts of chesed gets recognized (as well s/he should!), there is a value in being recognized by the recipient himself/herself. For better or worse, we like it when the people for whom we do nicethings recognizes us and expresses gratitude. It is all well and good if other people recognize the act of kindness, but there is something missing when the recipient of the chessed does not know it. Acts like that are truly acts of chesed shel emet because the recipient does not - indeed cannot! - express gratitude.

If this is the case, a number of acts of kindness fall into this category (such as tzedakah). I think teaching therefore is, more often than not, an act of chesed shel emet. Teachers spend long hours at home and on weekends thinking about their students and how they can be helped. They work tirelessly with and for their students. Most students - especially in the younger grades - will never know how much their teachers toiled for them.

Sure there is a general "thank you" that can and should be expressed to our teachers, but it will never be complete because the recipients themselves have no way of knowing how much the teachers have done for them!

What makes a Tanach Shiur Great?

A direct quote from a great website from a tremendous Talmid Chacham and Mentch.

What makes a Tanach Shiur Great?

1. Like any Torah class, the relationship we have with the students and the type of role models we are is by far the most important aspect.
2. We need to always keep in mind that our central goal is to foster an appreciation of, and love for, the learning of Torah.
3. Our topic is Tanach- not midrash or mefarshim. These are essential tools in working on the text, but they are a means- not an end. It is crucial that the students understand that they and we are partners in the process of analysis and discovery together with the commentaries- albeit decidedly junior partners.
4. Needless to say, our extensive preparation and creative analysis is crucial. The more we have to give the students, the more exciting class is for us and for them.
5. Students know when we are just citing commentaries and when we have thought the text and issues through ourselves. It makes all of the difference in how they feel about the class!
6. Students need to be active participants in the process. In order to do this, we need to demand preparation from them (in/out of class). When they’ve prepared, they have the ability to participate and contribute. We need to encourage their questions and insights- we are all enriched by this input.
7. The key is focusing on the “big picture”. What is the central message of the section, the perek and the sefer? How do the details fit in? How does this text relate to others in Tanach?
8. Learning is exciting when the information (text, facts, mefarshim…) is part of a quest for understanding, rather than a process of trudging through material. When we do the next passuk or Rashi because “it’s there”, it is boring! When we do them in order to solve a problem, it is exciting! The same is true of methodology. If we show them a means for deciphering text which “only” results in a translation of the text, it is deadly dull. If it is part of the quest it can be fascinating!
9. We want to help the students move forward in their ability to learn on their own.
10. It is crucial that are goals are appropriate for the particular class that we are teaching. Is it realistic to think that this group will learn without translation when they are adults, or would we be very happy if they open a Chumash with a translation in the future? The answer varies with the class, and we need to adjust the way we do things to that reality.

Teaching in the Gray

The crisis surrounding Ariel Sharon changes minute to minute. At 6:45 this morning, they said he was coming out of surgery and was stable. At 9:30 they said he was back in surgery and is in critical condition.

As I mentioned in the last post, I look at a lot of things from the perspective of my students. Their reaction - like most teenagers anywhere in the world about most topics in the world - has been mostly black or white. I've heard, "He's an evil man because of the Disengagement therefore I cannot pray for his recovery." But I've also seen students a bit shaken by the news.

I think our job as educators, especially in Israel where there is so much black and white, is to teach in the gray. To share our own uncertainties and questions with our students and to welcome them into a world where not all is cut and dry.

I did just that in my class today. I shared with them the fact that I too have anger against the prime minister for his handling of the hitnatkut (disengagement) both before and after. (Example: There are still close to 2,000 people from Gush Katif still homeless!)

On the other hand, Arik Sharon is a Jewish leader who has served his country and his people in every single war and military operation since the founding of the State! He has dedicated his liife to the service of Medinat Yisrael. While I do not agree with everything he does and with everything he stands for, I did quote Rav Kook who says that when a person works to help Am Yisrael - even if it's not the way I would have done it - he is a friend of the Nation.

In the end, I left it up to them as to whether they wanted to daven for him specifically or for all cholei Yisrael. I did, however, make it abundantly clear, that to daven for his demise was, in my opinion, childish at best and barbaric at worst.

Praying for Rain

Rain has been hard to come by this year in Israel. We have gone through a few days here and there with incredible downpours, but, all in all, it's still not enough. Therefore, we started adding the special tefilla for rain in our tefillot. News stories discuss the short- and long-term effects of the lack of rain. It's hard to escape the message.

As a teacher, I think about the impact that this story has on my students and how powerful this message is to generations of people living here in Israel: even as young children, they are inculcated with the idea that we need Hashem in a very real and practical way. Our lives are effected because there is no rain; not all produce is available; farmers are losing jobs; our tefillot change; etc. We are all literally dependent on Him.

This idea is certainly taught in Orthodox schools throughout the world; in Israel it is lived.

Report Cards (II)

I have already discussed my challenges in "doing" report cards in Israel.

As we approach the end of the 1st semester (and report cards again!), I should add two special aspects of our report cards and the system and culture within which I work.

(It may be that the things I mention here (or a part of them) occur in schools outside of Israel. I, however, have never seen them so, for me, they're new and inspiring.)

1) Our report cards include a section of self-assessment. The students themselves write part of their report cards. How do they feel they are doing (especially in relation to how well they could be doing)? In what areas are they successful? Where do they see areas that need improvement? How do they see themselves improving? What do they need from us (teachers, administrators, parents, guidance counselors, etc.) in order to get them to where they want to be? Questions like these and others are so important! The kids see that they are part of the process and play an integral role in their growth and in their learning!

2) All of our report cards are written in the 2nd person (e.g. "Dani, you are a hard worker..."). Again, we write to the students and include them in our reporting. They are not detached from a closed conversation conducted between teacher and parent! They are at the center of the discussion. This lends itself even more to the idea of involving the students in the process of their own growth.

Lessons from Chanuka

Perhaps the most famous question about Chanuka was asked almost 500 years ago by Rav Yosef Caro in his commentary on the Tur (OC 670): If there was enough oil to last for one day, the miracle of the oil only lasted 7 days. If so, why do we celebrate Chanuka for 7 days and not 8?

Dozens and dozens of answers have been offered to this most basic question (Rav Yosef Caro himself offers three). A while ago, I heard one beautiful answer with a valuable lesson for teachers (in any country) and people who live in Israel (involved any profession):

It is true that there was enough oil to last one day. We expected the oil to last one day and so the question was, we should only celebrate the 7 miraculous days. The answer is: Chanuka teaches us to celebrate the expected, the obvious, the "natural" not just the supernatural. We celebrate 8 days because even the first day was a miracle - albeit a "natural miracle - because all comes from G-d, not only the supernatural.

(The Kedushat Levi, Rav Yitzchak Levi of Berditchev, offers this as one of his explanations as to why we are not allowed to use the light of the candles: if we were able to, we would incorrectly focus on the miracle and not the Source of all things, natural and supernatural.)

As a new citizen of the State of Israel, I really feel like I have to keep this message throughout the year: celebrate the normal, praise the usual, appreciate being here even when engaged in the regular, day-to-day events in life. Don't simply wait for the "extra special" things about living here to remember why we're here and how fortunate we are to be able to be here.

As a teacher, the message is the same: I really have to celebrate my students' successes, recognize their special traits and talents and not to simply wait for the "extra special" days and events. I should remember often how fortunate I am to be able to work in the world's best profession!

"... One Who Learns from Every Person." (Avot 4)

OK... it took me a while, but I guess it's my turn for a few "only in Israel" stories. I'll make them quick:

- My mechanic attends the same shiur that I do and once was busy doing the daf when I came by the shop to have something fixed.

- A cab driver (who did not appear to be observant of mitzvot) told me that he was rich (he used the Hebrew word, עשיר). When I asked him why, he said that when he wakes up every morning, he looks at the acronym for the word rich, עשיר, and says, "ע for עינים, eyes, ש for שיניים, teeth, י for ידים, and ר for רגלים, feet. If I have those, I'm a rich man ("עשיר") and have nothing to complain about.

- I pulled into a gas station at 11:55 PM on December 31st. The attendant (who also did not appear to be observant of mitzvot) said to me, "You're our last customer!" I assumed he meant the last customer for 2005. He said, "No, that's not our holiday! Our New Year is a serious day and it's in the beginning of Tishrei" (He meant the last customer before he closed at midnight.)

- Another gas station attendant (who also did not appear to be observant of mitzvot), when he heard that I was originally from the U.S., said, "I would love to visit there, but this is our Homeland."