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Petach Tikva has always been in the forefront of the debate over exclusivity and inclusion in the state religious school system.
Petach Tikva has both affluent and poor neighborhoods. There has long been bad feeling when integration in elementary school has been “forced.” The resentment increased with the establishment of private schools that drew affluent children from the public religious schools and left a higher percentage of weaker and poorer students in the public system.
This resentment existed even when the socioeconomic, cultural, religious and educational differences between the two groups being integrated—Ashkenazim and Yemenites, for the most part—were not nearly as great as the differences now seen between the Ethiopian immigrants and the native population. These battles often made the papers, including twice when two of my older children started first grade as my youngest child will (might) tomorrow. The battles are still fresh in our minds, and their aftermath affects private relationships, the social fabric of the religious community and the city itself, and every child in religious schools today.
The private schools receive about 70% of their funding from the educational ministry, which allocates a set amount per student no matter what school they attend, and from the municipality. All of them study rent-free on public land, and one of them received a state-of-the-art building. True, children in that school learned in leaky caravans for many years, but potential parents only see the new building that is much more attractive than my children’s adequate state-religious school.
The rabbinate’s requirements for conversion of the Ethiopian immigrant children includes their enrollment in a religious school. Large numbers of immigrants have moved in recent years to Petach Tikva, including 290 children who arrived over the summer and 80-120 expected after the fall holidays. These children were assigned to both state religious and private schools, but the private schools have refused to accept them.
There are two main reasons why the religious public schools in Petach Tikva insist that the exclusive, private schools accept a proportionate number of Ethiopian students:
Kadima’s Ronit Tirosh, the director of the education ministry, said on the radio that the concern of the public religious schools is that if large numbers of Ethiopians are absorbed into their system, parents with means will either migrate to private schools or leave to another school district. This has happened in at least one Petach Tikva school and in Or Yehuda, Netanya and elsewhere. If the Ethiopians become the majority the whole point of their integration, to absorb them into mainstream Israeli society, is negated.
There are only five state religious schools in Petach Tikva and three private ones. Tirosh advocates a solution that places the children in the larger, non-religious state school system and distributes new immigrants in smaller groups among more municipalities so as not to overwhelm any one system.
The private schools, for their part, maintain that their concern is pedagogical and not racial. The higher religious and (supposedly) higher academic level means that the immigrants will not fit in. But due to their lack of Hebrew and limited knowledge of Judaism they are likely to have a difficult time in any school, especially a religious one. The differences between the curriculum of the public and private schools is exaggerated. In other words, they won’t fit in to the state religious schools any more than into the private ones.
The private schools insist that the children will be better off in separate classes until they can catch up. This may or may not be true, but I doubt that the interest of the Ethiopian children is behind this assertion.
The private schools also ask why the many haredi schools in the city have not been pressured to accept more students or threatened with closure, as the private schools have.
For the record, both private school and public school parents benefit when there is competition between them. Parents often find that a particular school does not meet their needs, or the private school rejects their children even though the family is a good match. And in theory, competition can lead to better education.
Some of the solutions suggested by the private schools involve testing or interviewing new immigrants before assigning them to a school. The state religious schools have rejected these options because it would mean taking the stronger ones, whether on the basis of religious level, academic level, or behavior, and leaving the ones with problems for the state religious school to deal with. The original distribution by the city was according to last name.
I’m off to my child’s meeting with the new first-grade teacher. As of now, no solution has been reached and all of the public schools in Petach Tikva, religious or not, are threatening to strike. At least two of the private schools have also suspended classes during the crisis. Let’s hope this can be resolved to everyone’s satisfaction and that all of the country’s children can start school as scheduled.
Daniel Gordis, Senior Vice President and Senior Fellow of the Shalem Center, sent me a review copy of his new book, Saving Israel: How the Jewish People Can Win a War That May Never End . The title highlights the contradictory nature of the book’s theme: Israel has difficult and seemingly intractable problems, but there are solutions. Gordis builds his case carefully, with anecdotes and historical tidbits of information. In the chapter on early Zionism, we learn that Bialik’s famous poem, Nad-Ned, has a hidden message. Nad-Ned has been set to music and causes a Pavlovian reaction with the caretaker bursting into song whenever a child is put in a swing. One line asks, mah lemaalah, mah lematah?, or “What is up, what is down?” Gordis points out that Bialik chose this line from a discussion in the Mishnah (Tractate Chagigah) about the limits of questioning God’s actions and maintains that Bialik means to disparage the rabbis’ arguments. Despite the strong secularism of many early Zionists, they valued Jewish history, tradition, and ethical teachings. Bialik would have been shocked to see the lack of Jewish knowledge and identity of many modern Israelis. Gordis’ son met a young man who had never heard of the Shema, the central Jewish prayer affirming God and said twice a day and on one’s deathbed. I know a woman whose 12-year-old neighbor, one Friday night, asked her why she had lit candles. A generation that lacks Jewish identity and cultural and historical context, a generation that has not learned the value of Judaism, will have a hard time finding reasons to defend itself against threats. Gordis describes an interview with two Sudanese refugees, living in a converted shipping container and awaiting an answer regarding their legal status. As they began their story he mentally prepared himself for the refugees’ complaints about their treatment and wondered whether it had been wise to bring his teenaged son.
“How was it in jail?” my friend from Los Angeles asked them. Again, I felt my hands gripping the arms of my chair. “Very good,” Mahmoud said. “No,” my friend insisted, certain that Mahmoud had not understood. “In jail, how was it for you in jail?” “Yes,” Mahmoud persisted, “very good.”
In the Egyptian jail, where he had been held for demonstrating outside the UN office, 60 men had to take turns sleeping on the floor in a single cell. In the Israeli jail, they got their own beds and three hot meals a day. Gordis’s point is clear. Those who set out to criticize Israel will find plenty of material. But an unbiased, outsider’s view, often tells a different story. My husband pointed out that Gordis sounds like an American liberal who needed to adjust his views when he arrived in Israel. That explains why Saving Israel contains a chapter on the difference between American-style democracy and Israeli-style democracy. The United States was founded to allow equality for everyone. But Israel was founded to improve the condition of the Jewish people. Both are strong democracies, yet have different goals. Gordis devotes two chapters to explain the painful reality that Arabs in Israel, while enjoying equal rights on an individual level (despite discrimination that should be eliminated), cannot have the same status on a national level without negating the reason for Israel’s existence. Saving Israel is an excellent book for anyone neutral about Israel, or confused about why the Jewish people in modern times need their own state. Gordis describes the appalling condition of the Jews after the Holocaust and what the foundation of Israel meant to them, something hard for the younger generation to appreciate. The first half of the book describes the insidious nature and injustice of relentless and ongoing physical, moral and political attacks on Israel and Jews. He explains that while Judaism does not glorify war and abhors cruelty, pacifism is not a Jewish value. It didn’t work to prevent the Holocaust, and can’t work for any sovereign state with powerful enemies. I read it in sections because there was so much to absorb and because Gordis’ personal, conversational tone, unusual for this type of book, irritated me at times. In Saving Israel, Gordis presents the many dilemmas faced by Israel an answers common charges made against Israel and Zionism. Read it for yourself or give a copy to an ambivalent friend. Whether or not you agree, it will make you think about the issues on a deeper level. More book reviews: She Got Up Off the Couch, by Haven Kimmel Through the Narrow Gate, by Karen Armstrong Show, Don’t Tell. Features a writing exercise based on a passage from another of Brooks’ books. Rashi’s Daughters, Book I, by Maggie Anton.
I received this thoughtful email from a young mother with three children aged 4, 2 and 3 months:
I really enjoy all your advice and tips. You help me appreciate that all mothers go through more or less the same ups and downs and we can provide so much support for each other. I was wondering if you had thoughts on juggling being a mother and a “co-parent”. I know that is vague. I feel frustrated and am having a hard time even understanding, let alone expressing,my frustrations.
I feel like I am bonding with my kids, B’H, especially now with the break. In some ways I am growing with them and closer to them, without my husband. There is an “ima and the kids” dynamic which is fun and sometimes challenging, but it is clear that I am the one in charge, I get to be upset with them, create with them, explore, giggle, and snuggle with them, etc. and then there is the “ima and abba with the kids” dynamic, aka, our family, which is unclear to me. Who is in charge? How do things run? Can you be “co-captains” or do you “take turns”? Is it my dynamic with the kids, plus Abba?
Somehow, I seem to enjoy my time alone with the kids better than when we are all together. I keep expecting the evenings, or Fridays or whenever my husband is home, to go more smoothly since now there are “double” the parents to help, but that is not always the case, sometimes it is less efficient and more complicated. I can’t take a step back and just let him do it either, so I am left in the middle.
This seems to lead to a feeling (on my part) of resentment, to a feeling that he is not understanding me or appreciating my experiences. This of course leads to stress on our husband-wife relationship.
My first response is that just as you have developed your relationship with your kids over time, your husband will too. But as you hinted, he needs the opportunity to let that happen, and while the baby is pretty young, it may be best for him to have time with one or both of the older ones on their own. My husband would take the kids to the pool or park on Friday, his day off. I noticed that you haven’t said what your husband’s feelings are about the situation.
Readers, suggestions?
Mazal tov to blogger Jameel at the Muqata and his wife on the birth of a baby boy.
A reader asked me how she can cook for Shabbat in two hours or less. I referred her to my tips for winter Fridays. Today I’ll describe what I actually do most weeks.
The biggest revelation for me was that I could serve the same thing both on Friday night and Shabbat morning. My kids are all happy with chicken and potatoes, so I make up a tray of cut-up chicken (my husband usually does that chore) for the oven and fill the pressure cooker with potatoes, which I scrub and don’t peel. If sweet potatoes are in season I add some, leaving them whole because they cook faster than white potatoes.
I don’t bake every week. I try to make a double batch of challah early in the week and freeze it. This week I made it on Friday, but I try to avoid that even though the taste is superior. Sometimes I roll out a piece of the challah dough for cake, spreading it with a thin layer of oil, cocoa powder or cinnamon, and sugar. You can add raisins, nuts or fruit, then roll it up like a jelly roll. Challah and/or cake is one convenience that I buy when I am short on time. With a big family, though, those expenses add up. Often one of my teens is happy to make a cake.
I always serve chicken soup on Friday night. If I don’t have a container frozen from a previous week, I use the neck or wings from a whole chicken. Since the family prefers dark meat I started putting the breast in the soup, removing it when it fully cooked and saving it for another recipe. Making soup involves peeling and cutting vegetables so it helps if some can be done in advance.
Appetizer for lunch is always cut melon or grapefruit, depending on the season, and we always have a fresh salad.
For seudah shlishit, the third sabbath meal in the afternoon, I’ll serve the side dishes or make a salad from the leftover potatoes. Otherwise we’ll have tuna, or cottage cheese in the summer.
That’s my basic menu. Time-permitting, or if I have company, I add techina, chumus, bulgur, or another cooked vegetable or salad. It’s a little low on vegetables, so I try to make up for that the rest of the week.
When you are planning don’t forget that washing dishes, cleaning and setting up for Shabbat can be time-consuming, especially if you have kids underfoot. So start early and remember that people get hungry on Fridays too.
If you enjoyed this post you might also like:
Keep the Heat Out of Your Kitchen This Shabbat (see the update at the end)
Putting Quick Meals Together (CookingManager.Com)
Pressure Cookers for Quick, Tasty and Frugal Meals (CookingManager.Com)
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