Regarding Nechamah
We try to emulate those we admire, while at the same time recreating them in our own image. This is apparent in the many Rav Soloveichiks that co-exist in the memories of his students. I see this in the personal Nechamas that people her students hold on to. My Nechama was someone who learned from life and spoke about life in an anecdotal, simply profound manner.
I hope to share more of her stories soon.
I am uncomfortable with the way that my recent comments for Lookjed came out. What I had seen as an early draft ended up being printed as they were because the time had come. I am going to post a cleaned up version as the first comment here.
posted by rabbi neil fleischmann @ 7:08 AM
1 Comments:
A Response To The Limits Of The Orthodox Classroom Part
PART I
By Rabbi Neil Fleischmann
Reading Yael Unterman’s article, The Limits of the Orthodox Classroom, prompted many thoughts relating to my experiences regarding education, based on both sides of the desk. I will try to keep it as brief, despite the many different questions, opinions, and memories it triggered for me.
The article begins by speaking about categories of opened and closed within the world and applies these to Orthodoxy. This is a large topic in and of itself and got me wondering: Who and what is open? Who and what is closed? The answers are not as simple as they might seem. Some students experience Frisch where I serve as director of Torah Guidance as closed, others find it to be open. The author is onto something in the first paragraph, “In an ideal world, Orthodox parameters would serve to minimize confused wandering and searching… Yet limits, boundaries and borders may also be extremely stifling…” Indeed. There is a great deal to ponder here.
The article enters to the classroom realm, applying the typologies of the open facilitator on the one hand and the limit setting pedagogue on the other to that setting. This feels in sync with my 13 years in Frisch and 20 years in Jewish Education. The classroom is a world unto itself and a microcosm of the larger world.
Yaakov Avinu, who prepared for his physical battle - which never came to be - with Eisav, comes to mind. Yaakov's spiritual battle which ensued was one which we don’t see him expecting or cramming for the way he readied for the physical fight. His preparation for that battle was the person he had become up until that point. And he won the battle, although he came out limping. (This approach to that episode is the explanation of Rabbi Yosef Blau, an understanding which has been dear to me for years).
There’s a Harry Chapin song about a student who wants to see the world in his own way but is forced by one teacher to see it “the way it always has been seen.” When he meets up with a teacher who tells him to be imaginative, it is too late. Which teacher from the song Flowers Are Red you resemble, and which direction you lean toward as a student, depends more on who you are in life than a simple choice of how you wish to behave in the classroom.
The article uses Nechama Leibowitz as a frame of reference and if I wasn’t already taken by the early paragraphs, this element certainly got to me. I was blessed to have been a student (1987-1988) of Nechama Leibowitz. The mention of her name conjures memories for me, as it does for thousands of others who studied with her. Without lecturing about education or providing a degree Nechama, through modeling, taught in an organic way what it means to be a teacher. These latent lessons were awakened in me by this article and are now simmering on the surface of my consciousness.
At 80 plus Nechama was the most energetic teacher I ever had. She was my only teacher to ask the entire class to write down the answer to a question she posed and then jump from person to person, reacting to what was written with a wide range of responses including, “Nachon,” Lo Nachon,” and “Zeh Noraaaaah!!!” On two occasions throughout the year I tuned out for a moment and in each of those instances Nechama called on me immediately.
TO BE CONTINUED
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