A Theory of Self-Integration

One of the statements Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik makes that I find most profound is found in Halakhic Man, pages 93-94:

The Halakhah, however, rejects such a personality split, such a spiritual schizophrenia. It does not differentiate between the man who stands in his house of worship, engaged in ritual activities, and the mortal who must wage the arduous battle of life. The Halakhah declares that man stands before God not only in the synagogue but also in the public domain, in his house, while on a journey, while lying down and rising up. [Emph mine] "And thou shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thy house, and when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest down and when thou risest up" (Deut 6:7).  

 The primary difference between halakhic man and homo religiosus is that while the latter prefers the spirit to the body, the soul to its mortal frame, as the main actor in the religious drama, the former, as has been stated above, wishes to sanctify the physical-biological concrete man as the hero and protagonist of religious life. Therefore, the whole notion of ritual assumes a special form in Judaism. The standard notion of ritual prevalent among religious men-i.e., ritual as a nonrational religious act whose whole purpose is to lift man up from concrete reality to celestial realms- is totally foreign to Judaism. 

 According to the outlook of Halakhah, the service of God (with the exception of the study of the Torah) can be carried out only through the implementation, the actualization of its principles in the real world. The ideal of righteousness is the guiding light of this world-view. Halakhic man's most fervent desire is the perfection of the world under the dominion of righteousness and loving-kindness- the realization of the a priori, ideal creation, whose name is Torah (or Halakhah), in the realm of concrete life. The Halakhah is not hermetically enclosed within the confines of cult sanctuaries but penetrates into every nook and cranny of life. The marketplace, the street, the factory, the house, the meeting place, the banquet hall, all constitute the backdrop for the religious life. The synagogue does not occupy a central place in Judaism. [emph mine]" 

 In Worship of the Heart, pages 167-168, he also writes:

 The prophets protested against the view that man's world is divided into two domains, the secular and the sacred, and that, within the former, man is free to behave as he desires, without subjecting himself to the yoke of commandment and duty. They protested against the view that it is only in the second domain (the sacred) that man must serve God, and that as long as one discharges one's cultic obligations, all is well. The prophets did not tolerate the outlook which says that God requires only one region to be consecrated to His Name, only one region in which man is to unburden himself of the yoke of his many calculations and consecrate himself to the single purpose of worshipping God in holiness. They protested against discontinuity between the secular and sacred domains. [emph mine] They opposed the strange leap from the secular to the sacred, from the defiled to the pure. Against all these phenomena the prophets remonstrated, as well as against the occluded heart that howls sublime utterances and the personality that is insolent outside the Temple, but genuflects and abases itself within its precincts. Any disjunction of the self, any hypocrisy connected with such two-faced conduct, aroused the prophets' abhorrence and revulsion. Worship in the Temple and worship of the heart are both rooted in man's existence as a singular being endowed with identity and continuity. Both prayer and sacrifice are retrospective. The praying person pauses for a moment in his hurried life and looks back at what has been done; if what was done is dishonest and impure, the prayer is an abomination.

Both statements speak to the need for a person to be self-integrated. A person should feel complete. There should not be a divide between the part of themselves they view as secular and the part of them they view as sacred. They are one person, and as one person, they should connect with God. It does not matter where they are - at home or at synagogue. No matter where they are, God is there, too.

However, what I often find is that our students in Jewish day schools feel fractured. They open their sefarim in our Chumash classes but also listen to secular pop music and watch movies. They don't know how to resolve these disparate parts of their identity, so they keep them separate.

My goal as a teacher is to help students become more self-integrated. I do not believe a person can learn Torah, or indeed, truly connect with God, if they do not know who they are or what they stand for. I think students should own their identities- even the parts of them that religious figures might judge. Ideally, what I strive to help students do is to actually use the secular parts of their identity to enhance the religious parts. We are raising sparks, if you will. One of my favorite assignments in class is a playlist project where students have to use the lyrics from music they listen to to depict the relationship between God and Bnei Yisrael in Jeremiah 2. A student said something that struck me: "I liked that I could use the music I actually listen to in this assignment. I feel like with other teachers I would have had to change the music."

This is not an uncommon perception. Many times the Judaic Studies teachers at a given day school are more to the right than their student body. On the one hand, this can be a good thing- it may cause the students to have an encounter with people who are different from them, and this may lead to inspiration or a desire to become more like that individual. On the other hand, it seems to suggest to the students that they are not enough as they are- that there is no way for them to forge an authentic relationship with God if they listen to pop music that includes explicit lyrics, for example. They would need to hide that part of themselves (or indeed, get rid of it) to find God.

It's this message that I reject. We should accept each child as they are. As my friend Jewish Atheist stated long ago, to accept is not to condone. I may not think it is proper to eat dairy at a non-kosher or non-hechshered restaurant, but I can accept and love the child who does so. She doesn't need to hide it from me. It will not get in the way of my ability to teach her. In fact, I think she ought to think about it further. Why does she eat there? Does she truly not think it is wrong- and if so, why is that? How is she interpreting the halachot? Or is it that her friends are going there, and she doesn't want to be the one person who refuses to go along with them? Knowing why she does the things she does will help her to know herself better. Knowing herself better will enable her to form a more honest, real connection to God. It is okay to stand before God and say, "I am not yet doing everything I should be. But here is where I am right now, and please take me as I am." It's also okay to stand before God and say, "I believe I am serving you correctly, and here's why." The point is to make the person think about it- to consider what they do.

It's even better if we can take things that are part of our students' reality which may not actually contravene halakha- music, movies and so on- and show how they can enhance and even reveal biblical and religious themes. Suddenly these aspects of their life which the teenagers assumed were wholly secular reveal hidden dimensions that can resonate in the religious realm.

Teaching students not to be fractured, and instead to be integrated, is important. I hope more people will join me in doing it.

A Different Model of Jewish Education

"And why is it" asked Rabbi Yaakov Glasser, "that such a big deal is made of the Mishkan? There will never be a Mishkan again! There will be a Bais Hamikdash- but no Mishkan."

He looked around the audience of riveted teens and proceeded to reveal the answer.

"The Mishkan," he explained, "is like camp. It's a place to share experiences, to buoy one another up and to help each other out. It's a place where people encounter their fears, grow and come out changed."

So he didn't say it in exactly those words; I'm translating from teen-speak. In essence, though, that was what he was saying, and it made something click in my mind.

We've set up a false dichotomy in the Jewish world of experiential education vs. formal education. Formal education, we've admitted, must of necessity be boring. But NCSY, Bnei Akiva and camp will provide the experiential education to keep kids connected. These initiatives are so important that some parents will even choose providing their children with a Jewish camp experience over Jewish day school and grandparents will righteously argue that they should be able to use their money to send kids to camp even if those same kids are on scholarships at their respective day schools.

But I'd like to consider the first part of the assumption- namely, that formal education must be boring.

Why exactly is formal education boring?

Well, a lot of it has to do with how we're teaching. There are endless classes for young Jewish teens to sit through, Judaic and otherwise. In the morning, you've got Chumash (Bible), Navi (Prophets), Gemara (Talmud) and possibly a Jewish Philosophy or Fundamentals of Judaism class. And that's not including time for prayer and all the other classes (in secular subjects).

Some schools have adopted a block schedule, which means that students aren't experiencing these classes every day, or at the very least are not experiencing them in the exact same order. That's definitely a start- but I would argue it doesn't go far enough.

That brings us to 21st century skills. Using technology in the classroom is surely the answer. With technology, we can make our classes less boring, more interesting and use the very same devices children are already familiar with to get them to learn. This is a great idea and it definitely can work- but once again, I would argue it doesn't go far enough.

Think about it. When we were in the desert, our entire lives revolved around the Mishkan, our living model of Har Sinai. Experiences were the order of the day. Once in Israel, the same rules applied- our Jewish lives were meant to be a lived experience of holiness, the key word being experience. Bringing an animal to be slaughtered, making pilgrimage to the Temple, blowing (or hearing) Shofar, tithing, setting aside corners of the field for the poor and hungry- all of these were things you did. In creating a culture of textual supremacy, it is possible to lose sight of this religion which was meant to be lived and experienced in favor of learning another blatt Gemara or understanding another pasuk.

So what should we be doing?

The answer came to me as I read about Finland's decision to move towards phenomenon-based learning as opposed to subject-based learning. It was solidified as I read about the initiative at the Playmaker school where students created video games from scratch, an initiative which forced them to learn to code, manage or produce as members of a group, build a business and advertise. And of course there's maker culture and makerspaces cropping up all over the place.

The goal of education should be to meet students where they are and then build them up from there. Education should be relevant and should be able to demonstrate to students why what they are learning is valuable and will serve them well in today's world. It should be multidisciplinary. It should be creative. And it should involve play, because all learning is really exploration and play is exploration.

We should be redesigning our Jewish schools to feature project-based and phenomenon-based learning. Information should be taught topically and should have a clear goal. If students are learning about the laws of tallit, tefillin and tzitzit, the end result should be to actually make these objects, ideally from scratch. Students should learn how to construct and blow a shofar, safrut (the ability to write Hebrew properly in Torah and other holy scrolls). Exams should be practical i.e. students should have to construct a Shabbos meal and then, sitting at the table, demonstrate the melachot that are forbidden. Just learning how to run a kosher kitchen (and how to kasher various objects and items) could take a year. Send students out with Chabad teams to use blowtorches to assist in kashering people's kitchens, for instance!

Once information is studied topically, you no longer have the incredibly long school day that drains so many students. This is because there's no need for each subject to be a set number of minutes taking up its own period- rather, a chunk of time will end up covering a diverse array of Jewish subjects. Every unit begins with an overall question and the question should be framed like so: "I wonder how a sofer writes a kosher Torah scroll." Or "I wonder how to run a kosher kitchen." Or "I wonder which vessels conduct purity and impurity" (this would be a great excuse for woodshop and pottery in school, aside from which you could built shtenders, besamim holders, coffins and all sorts of other useful items and sell them). Then, students have to learn through relevant sources- possibly prepared by teachers or guided by teachers- beginning with the Chumash, then going to the Mishna, then the Talmud, then the Shulchan Aruch and beyond. Masters in the field should be brought in as consultants. Along the way, students can work on constructing whatever it is they hope to construct/ build in order to see what they do know as opposed to don't know- their teachers serving as experienced guides rather than frontal instructors and lecturers.

You may be concerned that not everything Judaism teaches fits neatly within a project framework. For example, it may be important to teach about Maimonides' 13 principles, and there isn't exactly a construction for that topic. But this is where phenomenon-based learning comes in. The 13 principles constitute a belief system, and this could be a great opportunity to link this lesson to beliefs in general (which would definitely integrate well with history and Jewish history). There are several different angles that one could take. One could be the exercise in determining at what point in Jewish history tenets and principles became important. Another would be to talk about the principles and values by which the student lives their life and have them go on a treasure hunt to determine where they get their principles from- a search for the source. Is it their parents? Their friends? And where do those individuals get their principles from? In what ways do these principles reflect or differ from overall society values? A third would be to talk about Maimonides as an individual and the ways in which he reflects other individuals who were unique during their time- Galileo, etc.

Much of Navi (Prophets) is political but students rarely learn it that way. If you link Prophets to the politics that occur when the prophet is prophesying, it can either work well in concert with a history curriculum, a media curriculum or it can become a discussion about ethics, values and how to live. If the latter, cue Randy Pausch's Last Lecture  and Paulo Coelho's The Alchemist. In an ideal world, English Lit, History (and Jewish History), Navi and Chumash departments would all work together on creating an integrated curriculum.

I also think it would be instructive to take a hotly contested topic and consider the comparisons and analogies often made. For example, most students are taught to be Zionistic but are usually only taught one narrative. They are taught to dismiss allegations of apartheid, land grabbing and acting like Hitler as ludicrous and misguided. But often they are only taught to do this because other people who they trust have told them that these allegations are incorrect or misguided. I think it would be very interesting to lead an advanced class that would not only examine the Israeli/ Palestine narratives but would also examine the rhetoric used in the media when it comes to this subject. This class, for instance, should do a thorough study of South Africa and apartheid (the books read in this class would work for AP English!). It should consider various land grabs made across different countries and cultures. It should allow for fearless inquiry and open questions, even those that make instructors uncomfortable.

Many lament the culture of victimization that has led to ridiculous concessions at college campuses across America. Trigger warnings must appear on all sorts of material and teachers are afraid to teach. It seems to me that in order to create students who think rather than spout opinions based on their feelings, we have to teach students to consider a topic from all angles, including uncomfortable ones. Enter source-based, phenomenon-based learning. You don't just dismiss the comparison to apartheid because it bothers you; you actually learn about apartheid, compare it to what's happening in Israel and come to a conclusion. You don't subscribe to political beliefs or tenets simply because it's popular; you consider all sides of the matter (even- or especially- on hotly contested issues such as LGBTQ, where most seem to think with their hearts instead of their minds). It's tempting to cast everyone who disagrees with you as a dark villain, but it's probably not accurate. Let's teach the children to make room for multiple ideas and to check the sources before coming to conclusions.

What I'm describing would take time as it would be a radical remodeling of education today. Interdisciplinary learning that leads to either creation or discussion which considers a matter from all sides, including the ones which are unsettling, is a difficult enterprise. But the rewards could be breathtaking. Imagine a shorter school day, one in which students were invested because they knew that everything they were learning was something that could become part of their lived experience. The skills (reading, writing, learning how to think critically) would be taught via the inquiry-based, constructivist, phenomenon-based, creation-based model. Here's what a possible day would look like:

• Tefillah
• Breakfast
• Woodshop/ Pottery where we build items and vessels and learn about how they can conduct impurity via sources from Chumash, Mishna and Talmud. We also try to construct items as they existed way back when, including making a working Tanur, where we will bake challot (and do hafrashat challah). (This hits upon Chumash, Mishna, Talmud and Home Ec).
• Israel/ Media workshop. We are reading 'Age of Iron' by J.M. Coetzee and comparing this reflection on apartheid to historical sources and different impressions (by Palestinians vs. Israelis) on what is going on in Israel today. (This hits upon Media, History and English). 
• LUNCH
• Business Model workshop- Students create businesses (either real ones or set up a fake Shark Tank atmosphere where people have to create business models and bring it to moguls in the classroom) in which they must bring math and science skills to bear. You could assign the business moguls roles - for example, one of them could have made all their money in oil. As part of this, assign them to learn and teach the class about the issues with oil right now (fracking, pipelines). Another one is a doctor and you use them to be the conduit to teach biology. Obviously, the students creating the businesses have to bring statistics, salesmanship and advertising to bear, including informative graphs and visual presentations. (This hits upon Science, Math, Public Speaking etc) 
• Clubs/ Electives
• SCHOOL ENDS
• Sports/ Arts 

It is possible that in the younger grades we would still need basic foundational classes in reading, writing, Hebrew language, learning Rashi script/ Aramaic etc. But once foundations were achieved, the ideal would be to teach all these skills within broader relevant topics as opposed to on their own.

I'm still working on refining these ideas and I know I haven't hit on all the potential problems. A few that I see include:

• How would we hire teachers to fit this model and what would the teacher's role look like? Is a teacher someone meant to know a lot about a variety of subjects, or would several different teachers work together to construct each unit or lesson?
• How would this be financially possible/ can this be supported equitably across wealthy and less affluent communities?
• How would we assess what and whether the student has learned the topic? 
• How can we determine rigor in such classes? 
• Is it possible that there are certain concepts that simply can't be taught according to this model, and if so, do we build in a period of time for straight-up lecturing? 
• If the USA keeps a standardized test model such as the SATs or ACTs, would students be adequately prepared to succeed? 

I think with the right team, however, we would be able to expand upon this vision, work out the kinks, and create a school that interested students, taught them useful information and made Judaism the lived experience it ought to be.

Let me know what you think.

The Phoenix Philosophy: On Challenge, Judaism & How Children Succeed

I read How Children Succeed: Grit, Curiosity and the Hidden Power of Character by Paul Tough over the weekend. It was a good book, even if it occasionally strayed from the topic at hand, and I didn't find it to be as much of an instruction manual or how-to guide as I might have wished. Paul's thesis is that teaching students to have character is actually a better investment than focusing on their cognitive skills, and allows them to be more successful long-term. He gave examples of the research behind this idea, and wrote about programs at various schools that seem to be working to teach character, but didn't really give the lone teacher a great set of strategies for how to implement it on their own. Nevertheless, the book mainly resonated with me for two reasons: it spoke to me as a teacher and also as a Jew.

As a teacher who has the good fortune to work at a wealthy private school, Paul's findings based on the Riverdale Country School in the Bronx resonated with me. Before writing this book, Paul wrote an article in The New York Times called "What if the Secret to Success is Failure?" The article sums up many of the salient points in the book, and the following excerpt speaks to my experience as a teacher.

“Race to Nowhere” has helped to coalesce a growing movement of psychologists and educators who argue that the systems and methods now in place to raise and educate well-off kids in the United States are in fact devastating them. One central figure in the movie is Madeline Levine, a psychologist in Marin County who is the author of a best-selling book, “The Price of Privilege: How Parental Pressure and Material Advantage Are Creating a Generation of Disconnected and Unhappy Kids.” In her book, Levine cites studies and surveys to back up her contention that children of affluent parents now exhibit “unexpectedly high rates of emotional problems beginning in junior high school.” This is no accident of demographics, Levine says, but instead is a direct result of the child-raising practices that prevail in well-off American homes; wealthy parents today, she argues, are more likely to be emotionally distant from their children, and at the same time to insist on high levels of achievement, a potentially toxic blend of influences that can create “intense feelings of shame and hopelessness” in affluent children. 

Cohen and Fierst told me that they also see many Riverdale parents who, while pushing their children to excel, also inadvertently shield them from exactly the kind of experience that can lead to character growth. As Fierst put it: “Our kids don’t put up with a lot of suffering. They don’t have a threshold for it. They’re protected against it quite a bit. And when they do get uncomfortable, we hear from their parents. We try to talk to parents about having to sort of make it O.K. for there to be challenge, because that’s where learning happens.” 

There is no question that some of the most creative experiences anyone can have occur when they are in their phoenix dive- they rise from the ashes of their failure. Unfortunately, many students are afraid to take risks because that might lead to them getting a lesser score on grade on a paper, when of course, taking risks and embracing challenges are what learning is all about.

I was fascinated by the character traits that KIPP (learn more about KIPP by reading 'Work Hard, Be Nice') chose to focus on in their attempt at helping children grow. They came up with seven character traits, and these were:

grit

self-control

zest

social intelligence

gratitude

optimism

curiosity

What intrigued me about these choices is that, of course, all of these are key components of the Jewish tradition. What could possibly read as grittier (excuse my manipulation of the word) than leaders like Moshe and Jonah, consistently getting back on their feet and going out to serve God despite the complaints and unworthiness of their respective constituents? When it comes to self-control, is it not our sages who came up with the adage "איזהו גבור, הכובש את יצרו?" (This translates to: Who is strong? The one who conquers his inclination/desire.) Isn't zest described beautifully in the Gemara when we see how eager and excited our sages were for Shabbat, purchasing different choice items throughout the week in their love for that special day? Social intelligence appears in all the interactions between David and Shaul, gratitude is a theme embodied by Moshe when he is forbidden to strike the land or water since they saved him at birth, and the prophets are filled with optimism at the most (seemingly) inappropriate times. As for curiosity, what is the Talmud if not a demonstration in that ideal? Bizarre hypotheticals that take logical reasoning to their oddest extremes fill the Talmud; the sages were fascinated by how the law would play out, even if there were never to be an actual application for their intellectual striving. 

Of all of these, Paul wrote about self-control in the most detail. Self-control, as I have written about before, is embodied in the Orthodox Jewish approach to life. Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik writes about it beautifully when he addresses the concept of dignity in defeat.

In one of my favorite works, 'Out of the Whirlwind,' he writes:

"I will read for you a midrash (Midrash Rabbah to Shir haShirim 7:3, "Thy belly is like a heap of wheat set about with lilies"), and I believe it speaks for itself. The midrash explains Jewish ritual law pertaining to sexuality. Judaism developed a very strange attitude towards sexual life. On the one hand, it endorsed it, completely rejecting the Aristotelian negative approach which Maimonides had somehow accepted. Sex can be a sacred performance if treated properly, if placed in a worthwhile, dignified perspective. In one's sexual life, the dignity of man is the most important factor. It determines the whole character of the sexual life, whether it is low, primitive, hypnotic and orgiastic, or dignified and sacred.

The Halakha developed a very strange, paradoxical law pertaining to the periods of withdrawal and assosciation. But the strangest of all laws pertaining to sex is one norm which borders almost on the inconsiderate. A young man meets a young woman and falls in love, marries her, and consummates the marriage- the norm is that it is then that a period of withdrawal of almost twelve days begins.

"It often happens that a man takes a wife when he is thirty or forty years old and after going to great expense"- expense not meant in terms of money, but it means he proposed a few times and she rejected him. He was in love and kept on insisting and finally he won out. After going to great expense, he wants to associate with her. His heart is overflowing with love and passion. Yet, if she says to him, 'I have seen a rose red speck,' he immediately recoils. What made him retreat and keep away from her? Was there a wall of iron between them? Did a serpent bite him? Did a scorpion sting him?....It was the words of Torah, which are soft as a lily."

The Midrash gives another example. "A dish of meat is laid before a man and he is told that some forbidden fat has fallen into it; he leaves it alone and will not take it." Hungry as he is, however stong his desire for food, he will not taste it. "Who stops him from tasting it? Did a serpent bite him?....Did a scorpion sting him?...It was the words of the Torah, which are soft as a lily..." Bride and bridegroom are young, physically strong and passionately in love with each other; both have patiently awaited this rendezvous, and they met and the bridegroom stepped backward. Like a knight, he gallantly exhibited superhuman heroism, not in a spectacular but in a quite humble fashion, in the privacy of their home, in the stillness of the night. And what happened? He defeated himself at the height of his triumphant conquest, when all he had to do was to reach out and take possession. The young man overcame himself, the conquerer in his orgiastic hypnotic mood retreated, performed a movement of recoil. He displayed heroism by accepting defeat. And in this act of self-defeat one finds the real dignity of man.  

Dignity in Defeat

If man knows how to take defeat at his own hands in a variety of ways as the Halakha tries to teach us, then he may preserve his dignity even when defeat was not summoned by him, when he faces adversity and disaster and is dislodged from his castles and fortresses......

[Next page]

What I have developed is more a philosophy of the Halakha. How this philosophy could be interpreted in terms of mental health is a separate problem, one that is quite complicated. But I believe that the trouble with modern man and his problems is what the existentialists keep on emphasizing: anxiety, angst. Man is attuned to success. Modern man is a conquerer, but he does not want to see himself defeated. This is the main trouble. Of course, when he encounters evil and the latter triumphs over him and he is defeated, he cannot "take it"; he does not understand it.

However, if man is trained gradually, day by day, to take defeat at his own hands in small matters, in his daily routine, in his habits of eating, in his sex life, in his public life- as a matter of fact, I have developed how this directional movement is applicable to all levels- then, I believe, when faced with evil and adversity and when he finds himself in crisis, he will manage to bear his problems with dignity."

Pages 111-115 

I do find it entertaining (in a positive way) when current psychology accords with what the Torah has said is true. The Torah trains us in the process of self-control, which is why eventually those of us who are open to its teachings become so good at it. The most interesting part is that the Torah begins with rules, but the rules are there to train us so that at the proper time, we can use willpower instead. This exact idea was described in Paul's book:

What MCII amounts to is a way to set rules for yourself. And as David Kessler, the former commissioner of the FDA, notes in his recent book The End of Overeating, there is a neurobiological reason why rules work, whether you're using them to avoid fried foods (as Kessler was) or the lure of American Idol (as our imaginary KIPP math student might have been). When you're making rules for yourself, Kessler writes, you're enlisting the prefrontal cortex as your partner against the more reflexive, appetite-driven parts of your brain. Rules, Kessler points out, are not the same as willpower. They are a metacognitive substitute for willpower. By making yourself a rule ("I never eat fried dumplings"), you can sidestep the painful internal conflict between your desire for fried foods and your willful determination to resist them. Rules, Kessler explains, "provide structure, preparing us for encounters with tempting stimuli and redirecting our attention elsewhere." Before long, the rules have become as automatic as the appetites they are deflecting.  

~Page 94

Marc and I were once talking about how halakha can be seen as similar to the ropes with which Ulysses/ Odysseus binds himself when listening to the sirens' song. Our halakha begins with rules, which (at least per Kessler) are a substitute for willpower that helps us learn what our default setting or option should be. But then, as we develop and find ourselves in trickier situations over time, we have become accustomed enough to self-control, to not eating the non-kosher item, to not having sex whenever we want with whomever we want, that we can do the right thing. We have acquired a habit that will help us in life.

How To Educate: Excerpt from Chovos HaTalmidim/ A Student's Obligation

I read Chovos HaTalmidim, otherwise known as A Student's Obligation a while back (in English, of course. The translator was Micha Odenheimer.) Thanks, Lightman, for getting it for the family. This work was written by Rabbi Kalonymous Kalman Shapira, otherwise known as the Piacezno Rebbe or the Rebbe of the Warsaw Ghetto. It's a fantastic book for certain students to read, although I would recommend that an adult go through it and pick excerpts as opposed to letting the child read the entire thing. There are some ideals here that might not be appropriate for every person. On the whole, though, fantastic book. I reproduce an excerpt here below; for those who do not have a lot of time, I have highlighted the most important parts in blue.

Excerpt from the Author's Introduction: A Discussion With Teachers and Parents:

King Solomon, in Proverbs, advises: "Educate (chanoch) a child according to his own path, and even when he grows old, he will not stray from it." The most essential task of education is to teach in such a way that the child will not stray from the path we have set for him, even when he grows older and is no longer under his father's supervision. To truly educate is not just a matter of getting a child to follow your commands, or even of accustoming a child to do good deeds. True education is a much greater and more galvanizing process. Commanding and habituating children to a certain way of life are merely tools that must be used when educating them in the path of God.

Rashi, in commenting on a passage in Deuteronomy 20:5, explains the word chinuch (which in the passage translates as "dedicated" but which is also the word for education) as meaning "to begin." Obviously, one would not use the word chinuch to mean "begin" in every context. For example, in the phrase in the Talmud (Pesachim 116a) describing the Haggadah of Passover ("[the Haggadah] begins with shame and ends with praise"), we would never think of using chinuch for "begin." Nor would it be appropriate to use the word chinuch in tractate Sanhedrin, where it says of the judicial procedure of the high rabbinic court: "We begin from the side."

In Parshat Lech Lecha, Rashi gives us a deeper insight into the word chinuch by commenting on the word chanichav. The word means, according to Rashi: "He educated him toward the fulfillment of the commandments. The root CH-N-CH implies the initial entry of a person or an object into a trade or path that is his destiny. Thus we find the root CH-N-CH referring to the education of a child, the consecration of the altar in the holy temple, and the dedication of a house."

There are strict parameters for the use of the word. One would not use it to refer to a craftsman who was beginning to work on a specific job but was already expert in his trade, or for a house that was just starting to be built. The proper usage of the word chinuch is for a person just beginning to teach himself a skill or for a building that has already been built and is just beginning to be used. Rashi is precise in writing of "the initial entry of a person or object...which is his destiny," because the word chinuch refers not to a trade or skill, but to the potential, the predilection and capability that a person might possess, which makes him suited for a particular task. In a house or vessel, chinuch refers to the preparation that has made a house or a vessel suitable for a certain task or usage. The word chinuch is a special word that implies the realization of the already inherent capacity of a person or object, the actualization of a potential. This potential will remain hidden unless we bring it out. Our task is to cause the potential to emerge, to accomplish the chinuch that will transform the person into a skilled artisan, will cause the house or vessels to fulfill their functions, each room according to what it is best suited for, every vessel or instrument according to the task for which it was designed and prepared.

When referring to the education of children, therefore, chinuch means stimulating the growth and development of what each child is suited for by his very nature. This quality or potential may be found in him only in very small measure, in total hiddenness, the task of the educator is to uncover it. Since a Jewish child has the spirit of God, the breath of the Lord, hidden and concealed within him from the very moment of his birth, it is necessary to raise him and educate him to bring him out and reveal this godliness and allow it to flourish. If this is done, the child will grow into a faithful Jew, a servant of God. He will have an independent desire for Torah and will not stray as he gets older. A person whose educational strategy is one of commands and even habituation cannot be so sure that the child will continue to practice as he becomes independent. This, then, is the command of King Solomon: "Educate the child"- penetrate to his inner being and reveal the holiness of Israel that is hidden there. Only then will the child not stray from the path when he grows older.

King Solomon, however, does not just inform us here of the goal of education- to reach the child in a way that will keep him on the path even after he has matured and grown independent. In the passage "Educate the child according to his way..." he also illuminates for us the way and the means through which this goal can be accomplished. Someone who is trying to educate through command and habituation need not pay any attention to his child or student- to his nature, to the way he thinks, or to his other distinguishing characteristics. The command itself- do this or do that- is all that is needed. Nor is it necessary to deal with each student separately. A single command can suffice for an entire age group, for it is not the student or the child that is important, but the person giving the commands: he has commanded, and that is everything.

An educator, however, who wishes to uncover the soul of the child that lies hidden and concealed within him, who wants to help it grow and to ignite it so it will burn with a heavenly fire, upwards, towards the holy, so that the student's entire being, including his physical body, will increase in holiness and will long for God's Torah, such an educator must adapt himself attentively to the student, must penetrate into the midst of his limited consciousness and small-mindedness until he reaches the hidden soul-spark. Then he can help it emerge, blossom, and grow.

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The education of each and every child must therefore be different, depending on his nature, mind, character, and all his other unique qualities. The educator must become aware of these qualities; it will not suffice for him to know himself and his own mind alone, since everything depends on the student who is being educated. It is not enough to utilize his own mind and his own strength in activating, commanding, and instructing his students; he must grasp the student's mind and the student's strength, working and acting within the parameters of each child's abilities. What he commands and instructs one child should be different from what he commands and instructs the next child, whose nature, will, and personality are completely different from the first. And this is what King Solomon is hinting to us- "educate the child according to his path"- according to the particular path of each and every child.

Our goal here is not to teach the craft of pedagogy- how to utilize the student's mind in various ways, how to broaden his understanding and knowledge of the meaning of the Torah. For what we are seeking now is not the student's intellect alone: we are interested in the whole student. We wish to connect the Nefesh, Ruach and Neshamah of Jewish children to the God of Israel, so that they will emerge as Jews who revere the word of the Lord and direct all their desires toward Him.

Every father and every teacher knows that their children and students will not remain children forever, but will eventually grow in years and possibly in Torah knowledge and spiritual devotion. Yet there exist fathers and teachers who are concerned only with what they see right now. Since all they see right now are children the goal of their efforts is to educate their charges to become good children. They wish to infuse them with only a child's measure of Torah and awe of God. This they consider sufficient. But a teacher or parent who does this is sinning against God and against His people. Fathers and teachers must know that their task is to educate and uncover children of the Lord and giants of Israel. They must see the children sitting in front of them as great souls still immature; their task is to get them to grow and flourish. A teacher is a gardener in the garden of God, assigned to cultivate it and guard it from harm. Even if some of the children seem rebellious, or flawed in their character, the teacher must know that the nature of soul-seeds; of unripe angels, is to taste bitter as they are ripening and to be filled with nectar in their maturity. Neither the nature, nor any particular quality of a Jewish child, is absolutely evil. This is what the holy Baal Shem Tov and his disciples have taught us. What is necessary is just to know how to use these qualities and how to help them develop and grow. For example, a particular child may be very stubborn- which is a character flaw. His teacher may suffer greatly because of the child's stubborness. Yet if the teacher were to reflect, he would realize that when this child matures and receives as his own the yoke of Torah and of service to God, he will perform all his service of God with great stubbornness and self-sacrifice. He will not be frivolous or inclined to vacillate but will be the kind of Jew the Midrash described: In all matters of devotion, he will be as strong as the wall of a fortress.

~pages 3-7