The best education needs dialogue

One of the purposes of Jewish education is to allow Jews to become the best versions of themselves, the strongest possible members of the communities in which they live, and the strongest possible actors in the world. After all, the answers to many questions can be found in Jewish heritage, wisdom, and values. How amazing would it be if every faith-based group, ethnic group, and every public, independent school, and university adopted a similar framework?

That is, if education is intended to challenge students and promote their growth, classrooms should be at the forefront of heated discussion, debate, and argument. But even within educational systems dedicated to educational plurality, there are boundaries of acceptable and unacceptable classroom attitudes, behaviors, and language. All good education has morality as its north star and, for example, when I was a schoolteacher, racism, misogyny, homophobia, and any threat to the physical or psychological safety of other students had no place in my classroom. 

The foundations of the profession of education include curiosity, critical thinking, and even a quest for empathy. Thus, we owe it to our students to at least attempt to have a conversations about challenging topics. Good Jewish education must enable learners to answer at least one, if not all, of the following questions: Who am I? With whom and what am I connected? To whom and for what am I responsible in the world?  How can I bring about change in this world?

When I am asked, not infrequently, what is “Jewish” about this framework, I acknowledge that none of it is, “except that it’s ours.” 

The recent remarks from the keynote speaker at the National Association of Independent Schools (NAIS) People of Color Conference are indicative of the experience for many American Jews over the last 14 months. During that time, in places and among people we thought were allies, we instead felt marginalized and isolated. We felt alone. Yet instead of retreating after such an incident, we should hasten our desire to talk to our non-Jewish colleagues. Jewish educators, including myself, should discuss our educational approaches, endeavors, and foundational beliefs with them. The back-and-forth dialogue would be enlightening and productive for both parties. 

Where to begin? Well, most Jewish educators believe that Jews have a right to live in their historic homeland. According to most dictionaries, that means we are Zionists, a belief shared with the vast majority of Jews today and plenty of non-Jews too. Importantly, many Jewish educators also do not accept that Jewish nationalism and Palestinian nationalism are mutually exclusive. I try to keep these sorts of personal political or partisan opinions out of the classroom when I teach. Yet I know that is virtually impossible, so I also know that it is my responsibility to give voice to multiple perspectives on any given issue.

Certainly, our classrooms are never going to be the locus for solving global conflicts. They must however be the place where educators can teach that in 1948, what was regarded by one people as Independence was seen by another people as Naqba (catastrophe). In the same vein, educators can understand and impart on their students that a slogan like “From the River to the Sea” feels like liberation for one group of people and annihilation for another.

Since October 7, 2023, and in fact for much of my adult life I have heard about the “right side of history.” My grandparents survived the Nazi Holocaust, so I’ve understood from a very young age that there are not always good people on both sides. Lately, I’ve also had people ask me if I ever thought educators brought members of the KKK into civil rights lessons to demonstrate that there were in fact two sides of the civil rights movement. Yet this question implies a false equivalency to our issue at hand. The Israel-Palestine conflict has more than two sides and is much more complex than a simplistic, binary framework, intensified with words like “fascist,” racist,” or “colonialist.”

If educators in our communities stop talking with and learning from each other, what can we expect from our students? I invite my colleagues and others to ask us anything. Ask about power and privilege, xenophobia and genocide, nationalism and suffering. After all, these are among the themes and topics in every worthwhile Israel related curriculum, along with the Palestinian narrative. Undoubtedly these conversations will be challenging, but it is how we model the necessary work to build bridges of understanding.