Gimme Shelter
by Ross Hirschmann
How I learned to stop worrying and love sending my children to a Jewish Day School.
The
other day I had another one of those moments when, as Mike Meyers used
to say on Saturday Night Live, you get "all feklempt" (teary eyed). As
usual, it involved my children. I came to my 7-year-old
daughter's "siddur party" at her school, thinking, Big deal. Two
minutes, she gets the prayer book and I'm gone, on to more important
things. Was I in for a surprise.
The rabbi, her
Judaic studies teacher, had prepared a whole presentation where the
girls sang songs in Hebrew, read in Hebrew and then, at the end, were
presented with their first siddur. Aleeza ran to show it to me and
started showing me the different prayers. It, too, was all in Hebrew.
Unbelievable! I thought to myself. And she can actually read and understand it!
I
slowly stood up, gazing back and forth between Aleeza and this
incredible book. My eyes filled with tears. There had not been an
all-Hebrew siddur in my family for over 100 years, since my
great-grandparents came from Russia to America. But now my 7-year-old
daughter has one. And she's thrilled about it.
And all of this
came about because we did what most of our family (and even some
well-meaning strangers) said was a big mistake: We sent our daughters
to a religious Jewish Day School.
I understood where they were
coming from -- we used to have those same exact fears. We once believed
the common misconception that kids who go Jewish Day School --
especially Orthodox Jewish Day School -- are destined to become these
sheltered, societal misfits a la Robby Benson in The Chosen. We feared
that if we sent our two beautiful daughters to Jewish Day School, they
would not learn how to function in "the real world" and that they would
become these overweight, pasty white yeshiva kids who have no interest
or abilities beyond learning Talmud.
We quickly discovered that
our fears had no basis in reality. In Aleeza's first year, her class
put on skits commemorating Thanksgiving and later one about Chanukah. I
still remember her coming home so excited to tell us how she learned
all about Mozart and Beethoven in school -- Jewish Day School. Even I,
who played the violin as a kid, didn't learn about Mozart until
college.
Our family still kept warning us about how our girls
would be missing out on so much. "Don't get me wrong," they'd say to
me, "they'll be great at praying and the G-d stuff. But what about the
important stuff like playing girls soccer, dating, the Prom, and being
competitive on the SAT's?"
BRITNEY OR BUST
Hearing
these questions compelled my wife and me to closely examine our values
and parenting goals. What do we really want for our daughters? We
want them to be good people, good Jewish girls with strong, positive
Jewish identities and solid Jewish values. SAT's? Okay, you need good
SAT scores to get into a good college, but no one ever put on their
tombstone, "He scored a perfect 1600 on the SAT's"!
We found out
that sending your children to Jewish Day School does make your kids
high achievers in the really important areas of life: it helps shape
them into good, Jewish people with solid values, and teaches them how
to read, write, add, subtract and function in today's world.
In
most Jewish homes in America, if the school name doesn't have a
"Crossroads" or "Montessori" or the like in it, but instead has the
word "Yeshiva" in its name, it isn't even an option for consideration.
Many Jewish parents find it difficult to believe that it is possible to
successfully educate children in both what Harvard wants from them and
what G-d wants from them at the same school. Anyone who has genuinely
checked it out has seen that it is completely doable.
While I am
not an expert on parenting, I can tell you this: Every parent will make
two big decisions that will profoundly shape the child's overall
development for the rest of his or her life. The first is what type of
home will you have. Will it be a home filled primarily with Torah or
TV? The second is how and where you will educate your children. And
believe me, the second decision is at least as important as the first.
When
deciding where to educate your children, you have to plan for the
future now. That means thinking about what you want your kids to look
like when they're 18. Do you want your daughter to be wearing midriff
shirts and platform shoes a la Britney Spears? Or do you want her to
dress more modestly (yet still fashionably)? Do you want your kids
learning how to play the latest video game or learning about the
relevance of the Jewish holidays? Do you want their friends to be a
group that go to Eminem concerts or who -- hold on to your hats -- go
to synagogue with their families on Shabbat?
Where you choose
to send your children to school will have a profound
impact. Think I'm over exaggerating? Do some field work. Go
hang out in the parking lot at the local public high school and see
what the kids look like, how they dress, how they talk and behave. Ask
yourself, Is this what I want for my child?
Then go to the
parking lot of the local religious Jewish Day School and see how the
kids dress and behave there. Ask yourself the same question.
Don't
get me wrong -- I have no grudge against the public school system. In
fact, I am a product of the California public school system -- from
kindergarten through high school, and I lived to tell about it. But do
I think it was ultimately the best education in terms of shaping me to
be the best person I could be? Not by a long shot. And I lived in a
place and time where public schools were considered to be "excellent."
If
you want your kids to grow up with a very real connection to G-d in
their lives, a thorough Jewish education in morals and values, and a
strong Jewish identity, then sending them to public school will not
only work against you, but it will flood your children's lives with
waves of inconsistency. On the one hand you're trying to raise them
with a Jewish identity, Jewish values and a relationship with G-d. But
on the other hand, you're sending them for six and a half hours a day
to a place where values are not taught and where it is illegal to even
mention G-d. Worlds are colliding. And who do you think will win
that battle? Peer pressure at school or parental pressure? Let's be
honest: When it comes to children, peer pressure usually wins.
BEST OF BOTH WORLDS
My
daughter is getting educated in the best of both worlds at her Jewish
Day School. She knows how to read and write both English and Hebrew,
knows how to pray and say blessings in Hebrew and English, knows who
Moses is and who the President of the United States is.
Every
day at school she sings Hatikva at the beginning of her Judaica studies
half of the day and says the Pledge of Allegiance to begin the English
studies half of the day. She loves learning Torah and also loves
learning math, science and art. She comes home with beautiful words of
Torah, singing Jewish songs, and she comes home with fabulous art and
science projects.
At Jewish Day School our children are no
longer a tiny minority trying to hold on to their holidays while all of
their friends celebrate other, seemingly more fun holidays. Instead,
all of their friends celebrate Shabbat, Rosh Hashana, Chanukah and the
other Jewish holidays together. Our children do not pine away wishing
they could "do what their friends are doing"; they are doing what their
friends are doing. And that consistency in your child's life cannot be
overestimated.
People often give me what they believe is the
coup de grace -- the final blow against religious Jewish Day School:
Your children will be "sheltered." I always ask, "Sheltered from what?"
Sheltered from knowing about murder and rape from TV news? Sheltered
from seeing inappropriate movies? Sheltered from romantic interaction
with the opposite sex before they even know how to drive a car?
If
that's the case, then I say, "Thank G-d my daughters are sheltered!"
because I do not want them exposed to any of that; I want to preserve
their innocence.
My daughters have been to Dodger Stadium --
several times -- and love baseball. They know all of the words to "Take
Me Out to the Ball Game" and sing along, vociferously, with the rest of
the crowd during the seventh inning stretch. In the summer, they take
swimming lessons and soon hope to start ballet lessons. They go to
Joey's Gym where they learn how to do somersaults and handstands with
other kids. And of course, they still love building "bunny nests" and
other types of housing out of the couch pillows in our living room. And
yes, they know who Captain Kirk is. Call me crazy, but all of that
doesn't sound much like a "sheltered" life to me. Maybe it's just a
good old fashioned childhood a la Opie Taylor in the old Andy Griffith
Show, something that is sorely lacking for most American youth today.
Besides,
no matter how much you lock the doors and seal the vents, Los Angeles
still seeps into your life without you knowing it. It is an insidious
intruder. My daughters know that there is life outside of our religious
neighborhood and that not everyone is Jewish. Secular life surrounds
them. And as any parent knows, kids don't miss a trick. They notice and
record everything.
As parents, we naturally want to give
something more than we had to our children. For our generation, that
"something more" usually meant giving a better economic environment. As
a father, I want to give my children something more spiritually. My
wife and I couldn't be doing this without the help of our Jewish Day
School. It is not a perfect system nor is it an iron-clad guarantee of
anything. But right now as I look at my daughters, who are listening to
a CD of Torah songs while playing together with their Disney Princess
stickers, I know I wouldn't want it any other way.
Author Biography:
Ross
Hirschmann is a former civil litigator who saw the light and got out of
law. He then got into pharmaceutical sales where he has been for the
past 14 years. He earned his J.D. from the University of California
Hastings College of the Law and his B.A. in history from UCLA. He lives
in Los Angeles with his incredible wife and two very cute daughters.