Spring is a gorgeous time of year. The grass bright green, the flowers fresh, the air cool and breezy, it makes for pleasant scenery and excellent afternoons in the park. It is a season that
comes and goes all too quickly. But not without its fair share of attention. Spring is also a very important time of the academic year. It is a time of decisions and planning, hopes and outlook.
High school seniors generally learn which universities care about them. Parents of the playground-set decide where to route their pre-K and kindergarten wunderkind. And, perhaps most importantly, junior high teens begin to contemplate heading into the big league: high school.
I am not sure, but I imagine the whole topic of deciding where to go to high school is a byproduct of the exuberance that each budding junior high-schooler totes. In many Jewish communities, selecting a religious high school is somewhat testing: to coed or not to coed, modern or traditional, large or intimate. But in some, smaller communities, things are more simple and clear-cut: Jewish or not. Too often too many view this as a balanced choice and difficult decision. This is something that worries me a great deal, and I believe it warrants a bit of examination.
There are quite a number of justifications often given by parents (and students) for choosing not to enroll in a Jewish day school. Let’s explore three of these.
There is not an adequate selection of extracurricular activity available on campus.
Any expert or levelheaded person will agree: extracurricular activity in young people’s lives is fundamental to growth and development. And I agree that there is certainly value to athletics and the arts, and exploiting talent where talent exists. At the same time though, it is important to acknowledge that there is more to life than the choir or dance club. In a time where the rate of Jewish intermarriage and assimilation has never been greater, perhaps a higher calling exists than the after-school running track.
To go to a religious school is not merely an act of gaining an education of a religion, but also of putting that education into practice. It is not just learning about a faith, but learning to forever live through that knowledge. And only through living our faith thoroughly and sincerely will we be able to preserve it in its true colors.
So maybe an effective approach would be too view this is an extracurricular activity: preserving Judaism. Is it worth the two or three hours beyond a public (or private prep) school day to perpetuate a people? In this critical time of Jewish history, in a time where the very existence of the Jewish homeland is in such great danger, the least one can do is preserve the nation itself, the very fabric of Israel’s foundation. Maybe we should prioritize a little better.
The dual curriculum is too hard. Of all the many excuses given for not attending a Jewish high school, I must say this is the one that resonates the most with me. I will hand it to you: a dual curriculum is tough. But it’s not too tough. For while it may be difficult, it also breeds some very good habits. For one thing, it keeps you on your toes. With as many as ten courses a day, one is forced to keep in check with everything at all times ? good notes, homework, studying, being on time to classes, etc.
Within a few weeks of working inside this busy system, responsibility begins to accrue and embed itself into the personality. Are there times of frazzle? Absolutely, and that’s as it should be. Given a culture that now tries to squeeze so much into so little time in the life of an adult, maybe this is exactly what young adults need: practice. Which is why a dual curriculum schedule is a good thing. It prepares one for the future — be it at college, where students who’ve experienced a dual curriculum find it significantly easier to cope with their single-curriculum university schedule, or in the workplace, with its increasingly demanding environment characterized by tight schedules and even tighter expectations.
In short, a dual curriculum teaches responsibility, punctuality, and time management, while keeping expectations at a premium. Tough? Yes. Worthwhile? Totally.
A Jewish high school does not offer sufficient exposure to the real world culture. This is unequivocally true. A Jewish high school does not offer an everyday risk of rendezvous with smoking and drugs. A Jewish high school will not, every few months, find itself with a student pregnancy roaming its halls. Instead, a religious school does promote faith and morality ? deficiencies in that real world culture to which such an institution does not sufficiently expose its students.
To the point, no, a Jewish high school does not offer ample exposure to the prevalent public culture. Thank G-d.
Just a few years ago I read a message from a woman who was president of the PTA at the Margolin Hebrew Academy elementary school in Memphis, Tennessee. She wrote:
”The importance of providing a pure Orthodox education in conjunction with a superior secular education for my children has taken top priority in my life. I want to give my children all the tools they might need for their future use. I want them to have the knowledge and comfort level for any given situation that they may encounter in their lives in both the Jewish and secular world. I want them to be well-rounded and deeply rooted in their Jewishness.”
Today, I believe her words ring ever true. It is this kind of commitment to education and Jewish values to which we should all aspire. As she wrote, a truly religious school serves as an outlet through which one is expected and hopefully inspired to instill morality and faith into his life forever. It is gaining the intricate knowledge of life and its meaning, while at the same time garnering all the necessary means for a healthy and sophisticated role in society at large.
So in conclusion, I must ask those parents who are still undecided about making this critical choice: In a culture whose camera is so often out of focus on values and integrity, why not help restore some clarity to the picture? Sitting in front of you is an opportunity to help preserve a people, a nation, and at the same time inculcate a heavier dose of familiarity of faith into your family. What’s to lose?
