 | Embracing Guilt-free Alternatives to Mainstream Torah Schoolingposted by KJ Hannah Greenberg, Aishes ChayilSunday, November 20th 2011 @ 4:54 AM |
Despite the fact that one of my children is successfully growing within the framework of an alternative school, it took me many painful years to embrace the Torahdich sentiment, which I had often espoused, but not lived, that each child ought to be educated according to his or her needs. When it came to actualizing that concept, I fell to the demons of “what if.”
I lost my compass to: “What if, my family, who is already known as speaking a range of levels of Hebrew (the kids are fluent; their parents are not), and who is already known to consist, entirely, of Baalei Teshuva, gets further stigmatized,” “What if, the beloved in question never learns rudimentary Torah concepts (the school, a Sudbury institution, focuses on social and psychological wellbeing and leaves choices about the content and the mode of learning to each child),” and “What if, by sending my offspring there, instead of spending additional years trying to force that little one into the mold into which that little one clearly does not fit, I cause that child to be mucked up forever and ever?” In brief, I forgot Who maneuvers life’s bus.
Whereas the rhetoric: of appreciating the good in humanity, of needing to cultivating the inner wealth of individuals, and of stepping away from casting judgments, comes easy to me, the implementation of the same does not. Sure, failing to remove myself from witnessing and from deciding another being’s worth is silly as well as is wrought with troubles, and, sure, failing to disregard other folks’ witnessing and deciding my family members’ worth is equally silly and equally wrought with troubles. However, pretending to be powerful, or pretending that I can coast on others’ opinions, lets me, delusionally, and temporarily, delay coping with difficulties.
In short, failing to bank on Hashem’s will messes with my otherwise fundamentally good experiences. From the moment I pretend that I run the cosmic transportation company or that I begin to believe that I ought to yield my powers, illusionary or real, to the others’ whims, I am skunked. Not only does my emunah start to shake, but my entire self drops into deep, dark places, too.
I don’t like deep, dark places.
I also don’t like challenges. I don’t like the ones that I can’t comprehend, and I don’t like the ones that I can comprehend, but that seem “unfair.” I never asked to have one of my children become traumatized from the klita process and, concurrently, to regard the “regular” system of religious schooling as more than barbed. In balance, I have not been and will not be given the steering wheel.
So, my kid attends a nontraditional school. B”H, in the first year, alone, a lot of healing took place. School became, once more, a location of safety. Teachers became, once more, beneficent. Classmates became, once more, friends and learning partners.
This year, my child’s second year at the alternative school, is a time of other sorts of growth, b’ayin tova. In Sudbury schools, children are free to stretch as far and as fast as they are willing and able. In such places, children integrate subjects and children come to regard basics as the tools with which they will function in the adult world. For instance, a child in this sort of school, might learn higher math, but not because of an impending SAT or bagrut exam; rather, because he or she wants that ability in order to pursue physics or engineering.
Similarly, in such a school, cooking can be a jumping-off point for learning about economics, chemistry, and interpersonal communication, and the raising of small animals can provide an impetus for learning about ecology, biology, and law. The pursuit of a theatre experience might, in such an environment, catalyze a student to learn about playwriting, small business management, stage craft, and public speaking.
In truth, the possibilities inherent in a Sudbury education are boundless. If only worried parents, like me, could learn to release our imaginared control, we would enjoy our sons and daughters, and their growth, more.
I do not know how and when my child will catch up on religious education. That domain, as is true of other areas of expertise, is open for students to explore at a personal pace. Whereas Jerusalem, B”H, has a plethora of well credentialed Torah teachers, many of whom would be happy to be hired for tutoring, this aspect of my child's life, too, must be student-centric.
What I do know is that day by day, week by week, year by painful year, my child is becoming reacquainted with innate potential. My child is integrating the concept of self-worth.
Less importantly, my dear one is starting to learn about many topics at a self-driven speed. Recent “news” from that kid includes, but is not limited to: talk of nuclear propulsion, research on agriculture, robotics, and team building, and some grousing about the role of variables, fractions, and the like in the aforementioned projects.
I see a trickle-down effect, as well. In familial relations, that child is taking a larger role. That little one is actively seeking to participate in the governance of the family and has become comfortable objecting to certain parent-generated rules and to certain sibling interactions.
Fortunately, that sweet soul has years of primary and of secondary education left. Hopefully, Hashem, Who planted that precious neshama in my body, Who governed that sweet one’s birth, and Who has never left that child (or any of the rest of us, for that matter) to quake alone, will continue to give that beloved the exact measure of that beloved’s needs. When I remember Who is in control, I anticipate a happy ending.
I’ve never, truly, regarded myself as “alternative,” but merely as mindful in my parenting, yet, I’ve come to grasp that there are additional degrees of “openness” for which I can ready myself. As usual, my children are my teachers.
Taking an unconventional route is not only called for in select cases, be that route homeschooling (which, for example, succeeded extremely well for a friend, whose older son is in his third (!) year at prestigious, postsecondary yeshiva), be that route enrolling a child in a nontraditional school (as is the case, today, in my family), or be that route enrolling a child in a secular institution (with which others of my friends have had the best results for their sons and daughters), but is, also, for some precious children of Torah Jews, the only correct answer. Parental bitachon comes in the form of knowing that we must walk the path HaKadosh Baruch Hu designated for families and in the form of walking it.
