Thesis for Degree of Doctor of Philosophy

Title:

Pluralism and the Teaching of Particularistic Values in Israel

Submitted by Galia Jennifer Adele Avissar

Supervised by

Dr. Paul Yates

University of Sussex

July 2003

Thesis Table of Contents:

Title Page                                                                                           page 1

Thesis Table of Contents                                                                  page 2

Summary                                                                                           page 5

Declaration                                                                                        page 7

Introduction                                                                                      page 8

• Chapter Description                                                                page 11

Chapter 1: The Israeli Context                                                       page 13

• General Background: Israeli Jewish Society                          page 13
• Arabs in Israel                                                                         page 17

The Ultra Orthodox Jewish Community                                page 21

SHAS (Sefardi Torah Observers Party)                                 page 24

State-Religious Schools                                                          page 26

Non-Orthodox Religious factions                                           page 31

State Schools                                                                           page 32

Democratic Schools                                                                page 36

TALI                                                                                       page 39

• Rabin’s Murder and State Schools                                         page 40
• One Sector Meets the Other                                                   page 41
• The Intifada and State Schools                                               page 42
• Summary                                                                                 page 43

Chapter 2: Literature Review                                                         page 44

Chapter 3: Methodology and Methods                                           page 67

Methodology                                                                          page 67

  Methods                                                                                page 82

Chapter 4:  TALI                                                                              page 91

• The Principles of TALI Education                                         page 96

Chapter 5:  He & She Programme                                                  page 101

• Yona’s Case                                                                            page 102
•  Rina’s Case                                                                            page 111
• Orit’s Case                                                                              page 115
• Miriam’s Case                                                                        page 127
• Hana’s Case                                                                            page 137
• Summary                                                                                 page 143

Chapter 6: First of the Month                                                         page 145

• Tel Aviv Case                                                                         page 147
• Ashkelon Case                                                                        page 152
• Sara’s Case                                                                             page 154
• Summary                                                                                 page 160

Chapter 7:  School Initiated Programmes                                      page 162

• Prayer                                                                                      page 162
• Miriam’s Case                                                                        page 163
• Hana’s Case                                                                            page 169
• Language and Culture                                                             page 177
• Summary                                                                                 page 184

Chapter 8: Data Analysis                                                                 page 186

• Educational Philosophy                                                          page 187
• Curricula                                                                                 page 189
• Pedagogy                                                                                page 195
• Alienation and Identification                                                 page 201
• Conflict                                                                                   page 204
• Thinking                                                                                  page 207
• Evaluation                                                                               page 208
• Tabula Rasa?                                                                          page 209
• Critical Reflection                                                                  page 210

Conclusions                                                                                        page 215

• Educational Ideology                                                             page 215
• Curriculum                                                                              page 217
• Pedagogy                                                                                page 219
• Evaluation                                                                               page 221
• Final Words                                                                            page 222

Bibliography                                                                                      page 224

Appendices

Appendix 1: Household chores as they are carried out in my home: page 236

Appendix 2: male/female preferred pastimes                                     page 239

Appendix 3:What is TALI?                                                                Page 241

Appendix 4: TALI Principles of Education.                                      Page 243

Figures and tables:

Figure 1: Data collection: Teachers’ Workshops:                              page 83

Figure 2: Classroom observations                                                      page 84

Figure 3: Initial Personal Interviews:                                                 page 85

Figure 4: Research outline:                                                                 page 87

Figure 5: Research chronological order and methods:                       page 88

Figure 6: He & She teachers’ workshops:                                          page 101

Figure 7: Rosh Hodesh Programme                                                    page 147

Figure 8: Who do children thank?                                                      page 165

Figure 9: Text Division: He & She.                                                    page 192

Figure 10: Text Division: First of the Month                                     page 193

University of Sussex

Galia Jennifer Adele Avissar

DPhil

Pluralism and the Teaching of Particularistic Values in Israel

Summary

This thesis sets out to examine how particularistic Jewish values are treated in the pluralist framework of Israeli state schools of the TALI network.  From the onset the issue of identity was seen to be central to research, and treatment of values in school was expected to have an effect on the pupils’ identities.  As a Jewish state in late modernity, Israel continuously debates the extent of its democratic and pluralistic nature in relation to its Jewish nature.

Chapter 1, The Context, explains that at times there is no problem involved in combining the two, however some tension is inevitable.  Different aspects, minorities and social groups are introduced, and their attitudes to values are discussed.  The Israeli educational system reflects the complexity of this issue.

The Methodology and Methods chapter establishes a research strategy to investigate two programmes initiated by the TALI school network.  Data were collected in five schools located in different towns in Israel.  Key data were provided by teachers who chose to teach the programmes.   

Data were collected through teacher interviews, classroom observation and pupils’ group interviews following the lessons monitored.  Eight teachers were interviewed. Twelve lessons were observed, each followed by a group interview of pupils, attempting to uncover what the programme taught had ultimately achieved in terms of the pupils’ identities.  A range of documentary evidence was also collected.

Although the programmes discussed set out to promote both pluralism and Jewish particularistic values, close examination of their structure revealed a clear leaning in the direction of particularism.  This pattern seemed to be reflected in classroom pedagogy as well, yet seemed to have a limited affect on pupils’ identities.

Two major theoretical frames were used in the data analysis.  On the one hand, Giddens’s approach to identity in late modernity assisted in understanding teachers’ and pupils’ identities within the complexities previously described.  Habermas’s ideal speech situation provided an understanding of the weaknesses in dialogue between different actors in the educational process. 

Following the methodology the nature of TALI is discussed, explaining how most network officials’ and teachers’ overt statements suggest a commitment both to pluralism and to particularistic Jewish values. After this a detailed account of each of the programmes is provided, including the data collected and an initial analysis.

The analysis suggests that the teachers’ educational philosophy was more strongly determining in their pedagogic performance than the aims of the TALI programme.

The concluding chapter includes some recommendations, and claims that in order to bring about educational change, more than curriculum is needed.  Pedagogy is crucial to the implementation of change and must be closely followed by evaluation to assist in ongoing reflection of the process. In addition to Bernstein’s model of classification and framing, this research found philosophy to be a crucial parameter affecting both curriculum and pedagogy.

All four elements: philosophy, curriculum, pedagogy and evaluation are critical to successful teaching and learning.

The pupils’ voices should be an important component here, more especially as evaluation is absent in all TALI programmes and pupils’ opinions are not considered.   

Declaration:

I hereby declare that this thesis has not been submitted, either in the same or different form, to this or any other University for a degree.

Signature:  ________________________

Introduction

Education for values has been discussed and debated in the Israeli school system since the early days of statehood in 1948.  Modernity and the values it contains seemed extremely important in this immigrant community, and the issue of heritage was set-aside in the non-religious Jewish society.

Some decades later this no longer is the case, and the issue of Jewish culture and heritage has claimed its place in the Israeli educational system.  The organisation examined in this research, TALI (Hebrew acronym for enriched Jewish studies), carries the banner of critical, scientific thought together with the banner of religion, tradition and culture.  As such it provides an interesting opportunity to examine whether the two can coexist. Undoubtedly both sets of values are important, but there are basic problems regarding their application simultaneously, that need to be resolved. On the one hand, we have already seen how the ongoing dichotomy between religion and independent thought may lead to dangerous extremes of fundamentalism.  And yet, it seems unthinkable that in order to think, criticise and make one’s own decisions, one should have to abandon particularistic, religious and local values.  Therefore communication between these seeming oppositions must be found. One cannot relinquish the ability to think, criticise and make a decision today.

This research will concentrate on the issue of religious and particularistic values as they coexist in the educational system together with pluralistic, democratic values. There are many schools which enable one or other set of values, however, this thesis will examine an unique attempt of combining the two: teaching children particularistic, religious values while encouraging them to exercise thought and doubt in their approaches to life.

What emerges when particularistic values are introduced into a framework of universalistic values and vice versa? This thesis will answer this question by demonstrating the use of two specific programmes prepared by TALI for use in their schools, together with two other programmes created by TALI teachers themselves.  The programmes dealt with here will be:

The He & She programme – A programme dealing with gender and its implications in Jewish religious practices and in general.

The First of the Month programme – a programme focusing on the Jewish calendar, using it to study issues of time and its organisation in different historical periods as well as to review and renew ancient Jewish customs.

Prayer lessons – aimed at familiarising pupils with the prayer book and teaching them prayers.

Language and Culture programme – developed by teachers as an attempt at cross-cultural education.

These programmes will be examined both in terms of the cultural, particularistic contents, and the level and quality of thinking and doubt the programme encourages.  The thesis will discuss critical, constructive, creative and caring thinking and consider their contribution to doubt, to religion or to both.  A detailed analysis of the various types of thinking will follow in the methodology chapter.

The answers to the research questions will, of course, be of use for further improvement of the TALI programmes, but may help in a wider range of educational projects. TALI is not the only organisation wishing to combine these two sets of values. The TALI experience may suggest a direction that other organisations may take.

The methodology applied to examine, evaluate and improve TALI programmes in their attempt to teach Jewish values, without neglecting the predisposition of children to question or doubt, is qualitative methodology, which allows for a more open attitude to data.  This is an interpretative approach that is essential in this case. The data collected will be qualitative since dealing with the issue of value education requires close attention to differences that are difficult, if not impossible, to quantify.

Since I was employed as part of the team of programme developers, in the capacity of an advisor on thinking promotion, it seemed appropriate at first  to address the cycle of action research, starting at least partially at the reconnaissance stage.   As research proceeded it became clear that although some elements of action research remained, this work may be characterised as a phenomenological study combining elements of action research and critical research.

Some general conceptions were the basis for all teams. The programmes were to be directed at the teachers; most material in these programmes was to be designed to enrich the teacher’s knowledge of the subject and provide alternatives for activities.  The programmes were to demand teacher's input in terms of didactics and content before they could be used in class, and the programmes were to be inter-disciplinary.

TALI  management recruited programme-writing teams from among teachers and pedagogical counsellors of the TALI network, with some outside expert advisors. They began their work by starting out to develop one programme for each year of the elementary school, the subjects taken from the TALI syllabus.

This research focuses on the effect these programmes had on teachers, in terms of their readiness to encourage children to question and doubt, as well as their readiness to promote Jewish subjects.  Finally this research aims to determine the impact of the above programmes on the pupils and their identities.

The programmes are evaluated on three levels: ideological, curricular and pedagogical, in order to determine its strengths and weaknesses.  Is there an ambiguity in ideology, resulting from the seeming clash of values?  Does the problem lie in the structure or content of the programme or is the issue in question a teacher’s pedagogical problem?

Chapter Description

Chapter one of the thesis will expand on the issue of Israeli society and its complexities, since different groups in Israeli society reflect on attitudes within TALI and its schools.  A detailed explanation of the Israeli school system is a central part of the chapter, focusing on the state school system to which TALI belongs.  The issue of an Israeli identity is raised and a comparison between the different segments of society and approaches to education are discussed.

Chapter two presents a literary review of the field of value education, identity and also deals with the different educational approaches to thinking.  There is a wide range of approaches from self-identity in post traditional times, the attitude to values education in different cultures is discussed, and an overview to the issue of global versus particularistic values is provided.  The different approaches to thinking (critical, creative, constructive and caring) are discussed too, the problematic issues raised by the multiplicity of its meanings are crucial to this research.

Chapter three introduces the research questions, the methods and the methodology applied to this research.  Critical theory and curriculum research are discussed in further detail.  In addition, the different methods used, interviews, group interviews, participant observations and the research journal are discussed. 

Chapter four provides a closer look at TALI, its history, its ideology and present state.  TALI is analysed against the context of the Israeli state schools.

Chapters five, six and seven unfold the research data, describing in detail the different programmes and the responses they got from teachers and pupils.  Chapter five discusses the He & She programme, chapter six the First of the Month programme and chapter seven deals with the school initiated programme.  There is an initial analysis included with the data presentation, since the nature of this work required ongoing reflection and discussion.

These findings are then analysed in more detail against theoretical frameworks.  Giddens’ approach to modernity and self identity assists in the analysis of the development of a Jewish identity in TALI, and Habermas’ ideal speech situation (1984) and the theory of communicative action is set against the dialogues held between TALI officials, teachers and pupils.

Bernstein’s coding, classification and framing of educational knowledge is used for curricular analysis.

Recommendations are made for future reference in curriculum preparation, using models such as Bernstein (1973) and approaches such as Elliott (1991), which are discussed in the conclusion.  These models are modified to accommodate the needs of this research.  In addition, a four-stage curriculum analysis has been developed as an outcome of this research.  The curriculum is analysed in terms of ideology, selection of knowledge for the curriculum, pedagogy and evaluation.

This four-stage model of curriculum analysis may also prove to be a useful tool for future researchers.

 Chapter 1: The Israeli Context

This chapter provides the background knowledge of Israeli society and its educational systems, with which this research is concerned.  The complexity of Israeli society as well as the ideologically contested areas are reflected in the state’s educational system, and are therefore important to understand.  The issue in question, of teaching school children to value both particularistic and democratic pluralistic values, requires an appreciation of Israeli social structure and an understanding of the different components of society, as well as a degree of insight into Jewish traditions and religious practices.  National or religious identities adopt different nuances in different segments of Israeli society, which vary both in terms of religion and the approach to it, and in terms of national identity.  Some segments of Israeli society indeed wish to educate schoolchildren in the light of pluralist and democratic values, while helping them preserve a national and religious identity, without rejecting that which is particular to their origin.  However, this view is not shared by all Israelis.  It is of great interest to elucidate the views and predicaments of different sectors in all their multi-cultural renderings.  Although discussion of each group separately may lead to fragmentation of society, as Edward Said states (1978), I will indicate where these narratives intercept so as to provide an overview of beliefs and attitudes towards Jewish identity in a democratic framework.

General Background: Israeli Jewish Society

Israel, being an immigrant community, is part of international attempts to preserve national, cultural and religious identity, and yet maintain a democratic, universal and moral set of values (Oz, 1998). 

The state of Israel itself was born of a mixed marriage.  It came from matchmaking between the Bible and the Renaissance, of the yearning for the return to Zion with the thrill of the Spring of Nations in Europe…(my translation, p.51)

This is by no means an easy task.  The early days of Zionism were characterised by an attempt to leave behind the identity of the traditional, religious Jew, with no country to call her own, and to emerge as a strong Israeli, walking in the footsteps of her Biblical ancestors while rejecting 2000 years of Jewish existence in exile (Beyer, 1994). Even at the early stage of the first days of Zionism it was unclear what was referred to by the term Jewish identity, and each sector understood it differently. 

As the old say has it, ‘Two Jews, three views’. The well-known propensity of Jews to disagree on matters theological while not definitively excluding each other from the faith or from the community may reflect the typical Jewish concentration on matters concrete and practical. (Kellner 1991, p.82). 

Kellner considers it difficult to describe Judaism as a system of beliefs, since it emphasises how to behave as the main issue. He attempts to define Judaism in the contemporary world in two ways: the secular definition which is nationalistic or cultural, and is exemplified through Zionism, and the religious way, which has also become diverse: Orthodoxy, Conservatism, Reconstructionism and Reform.  Zionist identity became an alternative to Jewish identity, not an addition, and was considered a step on the road to a new Israeli identity.  Other Jews saw Zionism as a danger to Judaism, an act of taking control instead of passively waiting for redemption by the Kingdom of Heaven, an act of rebellion for which the people of Israel were collectively punished for in the Holocaust (Ravitzky, 1993, p.89).

In 1948, soon after the Declaration of Independence of the State of Israel a major effort was made to cope with the fast absorption of the tidal wave of immigration that swiftly doubled the Jewish population, however

Not all of them ‘melted’ easily and painlessly into the ‘pot’ of Israeli cultural evolution. It is important to note that this ‘melting pot’ into which the newcomers were required to assimilate was not itself monolithic in nature. It was characterized by deep-rooted social cleavages defined by attitudes towards religious observance, social outlook and political identities. (Zuzovsky, R. Yakir, R. Gottlieb, E. 1998, p.96)

 In the field of education this situation created two state school systems, state-religious and state schools, plus a remaining ultra-orthodox faction, also called the independent stream. The largest system is that of state schools; about 66% of the Jewish population is educated in its schools. The Ministry of Education had more power than its bureaucratic influence, since it had the status of the “charismatic centre” in the educational system.  [According to Geertz, due to its role in society, every modern state has a symbolic, charismatic and sanctified status in society (1983).] 

As with the Israeli Army, the Ministry of Education had an important role in creating a new nation with the many immigrants who arrived in the first years of statehood.  The goal of the State Education Law of 1953 was to base education on Jewish cultural values and scientific achievement, love of the homeland and loyalty to the people of Israel and the memory of the Holocaust (State Education legislation, 1953).  Uniformity of educational programmes was an important part of rhetoric and ideology at that period.  However, the Ministry realised it could not effectively use its new programmes without convincing the teachers first, and created sessions where teachers could become acquainted with them.  Although these meetings were democratic in structure, democracy was planned top-down, so that they opened with a lecture by the Prime Minister, calling teachers to settle the border areas, to be educated themselves and then to educate others.  Only then the editors of the various programmes encouraging accepted values would introduce them.  If there was any criticism, it was feeble.  This was a time of unity (Mathias, 2002). 

This is exemplified in the history curriculum, which attempted to find one unifying history rather than different perspectives.  Zionism was incorporated in the curriculum.  There was some criticism of the ethnocentric approach, claiming it was encouraged narrow mindedness, nationalism and fanaticism.  This criticism came from intellectuals and liberals at the Hebrew University, who also complained that needs of pupils and of teachers were not considered (Adar, 1956). Despite this criticism, the unifying programme continued until the seventies, when the religious sector in all its factions and the Arab sector began relating their own historical narratives and demanded that they be taught (Mathias, 2002, p.39).  In 2000 the Knesset discussed the State School legislation and added a paragraph unthought-of in the early days of the state:

To learn the language, culture, heritage and unique tradition of the different segments of society in Israel.  To recognise the equal rights of all citizens of Israel. (State Education Law, 5th Amendment, p.11)

After that, the history curriculum policy concentrated on the studying of Jewish history in the context of world history.  New textbooks were published which represented a new sensitivity to the Palestinian issue, and allowed a less Zionist, more objective look at the refugee problem as well as at Jewish independence and heroism (Jacobi, 1999; Naveh, 1999).  The official version of the Palestinian exile following the War of Independence had been that they had “left their homes” out of fear.  Several of the newer texts assumed responsibility for the expulsion of some, which was a serious alteration.  These books were subject to debate, they were accused of shattering every Zionist ethos, and one of them was finally banned (Raz-Krakotzkin, 2002, p.55).

Indeed Arabs and other non-Jewish minorities in Israel and their identity issues have had a tremendous impact on many aspects of life in Israel, including that of Jewish identity.

During the last decade, awareness has grown in Israel that there is institutional discrimination against Arab citizens of this country. No one can now question this fact and no further proof is required to establish its veracity. (Dichter, S. 2001).

Arabs in Israel:

Israel’s compulsory education law was intended for Arabs as well as Jewish children…the number of Arab primary schools was increased from 59 in 1948 to 114 in 1956, the number of teachers from 250 to 846, the number of pupils from 10,000 to 26,500 – and all this among a far smaller Arab population than in the mandatory years.  (Sachar, 1979, p. 389)

Although this thesis deals with Jewish identity in a pluralist society, the identity of the Arab citizens of Israel is not only interesting, it is vital to consider the identity of the Arabs, as the significant Other of the Jewish population. Democratic and pluralist values of the Jewish population may be seen through their relationship with Arabs.   The Arab population’s attempt to preserve an Arab identity in the state of Israel is no light matter, since in many cases the ethnic identity may be Arab, the religious identity Moslem or Christian and the national identity, being a carrier of an Israeli passport, may clash.  It is not easy to maintain a Moslem-Arab identity in Christian majority societies, without the additional burden of Israel’s ongoing war with neighbouring Arab states.

In a lecture to The Forum for Civil Society Consent Dr. Ismail Nashaf spoke of two approaches to the Israeli state.  In Jewish eyes, he claimed, this was a nation state, redefining its borders, moulding its history and its symbols.  In Palestinian eyes it was a colonial state, using the structure of European colonialism (my translation, Nashaf, July 10, 2002).  Since the breakdown of the Oslo peace process in September 2000, this has become even more problematic.  The second Intifada, also referred to as the Al Aqsa Intifada, the Palestinian uprising in the West Bank and in the Gaza Strip, has found its way into Israeli Arab hearts.  Two apparently contradictory but actually complementary phenomena have asserted themselves among the Arab citizens of Israel: on the one hand, there is a tendency towards Palestinisation and solidarity with fellow Palestinians in the occupied territories; and, on the other hand, there is a pull towards Israelisation and a demand for greater integration into Israeli society. Azmi Bishara, a member of the Israeli Knesset and adamant representative of the Palestinian cause, expressed the social marginality of Israeli Arabs both among Israeli Jews and among Palestinian Arabs, and the contradictions of his own life in a newspaper interview:

…membership in the Knesset as an Arab Palestinian contains many contradictions that are not exclusive to membership in the Knesset. Probably the Knesset sharpens these contradictions. Just being an Arab citizen of Israel is in itself a contradiction. If you want to avoid contradictions, you must leave the country; this is the only choice.  In the Knesset, the contradictions become more intense because they are political. Any attempt to reconcile them is futile. Rather, you should sharpen and clarify them, not try to blur or hide them. Otherwise you foster a perverse political personality that acts as if it is half Arab and half Israeli; in other words, you become a marginal figure in both societies. I don’t think these contradictions should be reconciled, but transformed into a momentum for development rather than into a destructive and perverting force. (From an interview with Member of Knesset Azmi Bishara, by Sid-Ahamad, December 2000).

Today, following the investigation of terrorist attempts by Israeli Arabs in the Galilee and in Jerusalem, some of which were, unfortunately, multi-casualty suicide bombings, it has become clear that the loyalties of at least some of the Israeli Arab population lie with the Palestinian people, and they are committed, either actively or only through moral support, with the struggle of the Palestinians in the occupied territories.  The reasons behind this are many, starting from deprived conditions of local government, urban infrastructure, educational system, employment conditions and many other aspects of government financing falling short of the Jewish population.  The feelings of deprivation or even discrimination are grounded in undisputed facts.

A sense of belonging to the state on the part of any group of citizens is influenced by the extent to which they benefit from its resources and infrastructures. This holds even truer for Arab citizens and their sense of belonging in Israel, since here they are a national minority, and thus their relations with the state are fundamentally different from those of other groups. (Dichter, 2001).

These emotions were reinforced by the results of pro-Palestinian demonstrations held in the Galilee in September-October of 2000, close to the beginning of the El Aqsa Intifada.  The demonstrations were

The most violent in 18 years and can be compared only to the violent protests that occurred in response to the massacres in the Palestinian refugee camps of Sabra and Shatilah by Christian Phalanges in September 1982. (Paz, October 4, 2000).  

The demonstration hit Israeli Jews by surprise.  Israeli towns and villages were closed and under siege for several days, main roads were blocked.  There were cases of shooting at Israeli cars within the pre 1967 borders, something that had been unheard of for decades. 

Progress toward parity in the allocation of material resources over the years has been negligible, and this undoubtedly played a part in the accumulation of frustration that led to the events of October 2000. Based on the research reported in these pages, the wake-up call of October 2000 has not yet led to the required change, and budgets for special development programs have remained too lean to effect substantive changes in the situation. (Dichter 2001)

As a result of these riots Israeli police killed eight Israeli Arabs.  The Arab leadership in Israel, including members of Knesset did nothing to calm the riots or to call for co-existence, as had been previous practice.  They compared Israeli police to Nazis and spoke of the government as the enemy. 

However tragic the October 2000 events, and however devastating the results of suicide bombings, the ‘battle’ over identity of either the Palestinian Arab or the Israeli Jew seems to necessarily contain a negation of the Other’s identity.  Each side presents an historical narrative that attempts to justify its own position and shatter that of the other.  The self-narrative is perceived as “justified” and “true”, while the counter-narrative is seen as “subjective” or “distorted”.  This dichotomy undoubtedly influences the young generation (Podeh, 2000, 2002).  The elimination of the other’s identity through the reign of the opponent’s is a major element in the creation of a national identity, and distressingly, in the promise of the productivity of violence. Violence plays an important role in the establishment of collective memory, which is essential for national identity.  In Palestinian writing the Holocaust is either minimised or rejected completely.  When dealt with, it is with indifference, since its moral implications may provide reasoning for a Jewish state.  On the other hand we find both the Nacba, the Palestinian disaster caused by the Israeli War of Independence, and the role Israelis played in Palestinian suffering is ignored (Gur-Ze’ev, 1999).

Most Arab children attend state schools.  They were 19% of the entire pupil population in the 2001/2002 school year.  They do not study programmes designed to promote Jewish identity, of course, yet part of the school curriculum consists of Hebrew Literature, Jewish history and even Bible study.  The pupils need not pass matriculation tests in those subjects, but they are introduced to them during their years of education. (Special Director General’s Report, 1976).

Looking through the history curricula since the establishment of the State of Israel, we find that the original curriculum was devoid of Arab culture.  In the seventies this was amended with the statement as follows: “the programme will strengthen the sense of identification with the Arab nation and with the Jewish State”.  No reference to the Palestinian People’s identity was made until the nineties, and even then there was an immediate attempt to balance this with identification with the state of Israel and its citizens.  There was no place for the Palestinian narrative in Jewish schools curriculum, and the Middle-East conflict was analysed from a Zionist point of view.  Currently, the Arab state schools teach a small amount of the Palestinian narrative, although it is always placed in the context of the Zionist prism, the curriculum clearly aimed at maintaining the status quo (Al-Haj, 2002, p.149). 

Following the Shenhar Report on Jewish Values (1994), and the Kremnitzer Report (1996) on democratic values in State Schools; a report was submitted with recommendations about the Arab sector.  Being published late and incomplete, it was referred to as “the missing report”.  It was published in 1999, and suggested a particularistic view for value education in the Arab sector in Israel.  Although the report recommended an education, which allowed each pupil to identify with his ancestors, it demands that all pupils consider coexistence as a general cultural value, and that they should know the history, culture and heritage of the other nation they are in daily contact with (The Missing Report, 1999).  Today, Arab schools take part in citizenship programmes, concentrating on democracy and its institutions, involvement and commitment. (Ben-Ami and Shochat, 2002).  These programmes avoid in-depth discussions of the Jewish symbols of the state, the legal obligation of Jewish citizens to serve in the Israeli Defence Forces and other problematic and controversial issues.  Although there is room in the curriculum for a discussion of national heritage, modern Palestinian issues are not raised, and heritage applies mainly to religion, language and history.  This leaves the educational system lagging behind current events, and social processes.

The religious stream meets close to 18.5% of the population’s educational needs. Both religious and secular national systems share a basic core curriculum, but differ in their attitude to culture and Judaism. This is exemplified in the treatment of Bible lessons. Religious schools use traditional interpretations, treating the Old Testament as holy writ, while state schools learn Bible mainly through analysis, using history, archaeology and form criticism.  Prayers are part of the daily routine in religious schools, and Jewish halakhic laws are studied, while these issues are not dealt with at all in state schools

An in-depth study held among Israel’s Jewish population between June 1999 to January 2000 (two months before the start of the current state of warfare with the Palestinians) found that Jews in Israel have a strong Jewish identity. A majority would like Israel to have Jewish uniqueness; however they could not agree on how this could be achieved.  Most respondents felt an affinity to Jewish tradition and observed at least some rituals, life cycle ceremonies and Holydays.  There was a consensus of sorts, of commitment to Jewish identity, culture and continuity, without necessarily accepting Jewish halakhic law as binding, and without accepting what is perceived as religious coercion. (My translation, Levy, S. Levinsohn, H. and Katz, E. 2000:1.2). The same study found a deterioration of solidarity, both with Jews living in the Diaspora and among different sectors of Israeli society, despite the fact that they all held a strong commitment to Jewish identity. 

The Jewish Ultra-Orthodox Community:

Although “Ultra-Orthodox” Jews are not directly the subjects of this research, they are also an important sector of Israeli society, and influence attitudes and beliefs of the general Jewish public in many ways.  As is clear from the name, this is an extremely pious sector living by Halakhic law as the law of the land.   The extreme members of this sector are the Neturei Karta (the guards of the walls) who do not recognise the State of Israel and have nothing to do with its institutions, even boycotting general elections.  Other sects within the Ultra-Orthodox community belong to various branches of Hassidism, although they are bunched together by more secular Israelis.  Their most common dispute with the rest of Israel’s population is the issue of military service.  Members of this group are exempt from military service and serve their people by attending Yeshivas and learning Talmud. This has been the arrangement since the Declaration of Independence (Ben Gurion, 1948), and has been the cause of many political debates since.  Originally, this exemption was awarded to 3000 yeshiva students, but nowadays their numbers have grown to 100,000, and is the cause of much resentment on the part of the secular Israelis who face three years of mandatory military service, as well as reserve duty to the age of fifty, as discussed in Messiah’s Donkey (Rachlevsky, 1998, p.17).  The Ultra Orthodox do not share the curriculum of the national systems of education, and they are only interested in preserving the religious life to which they are accustomed, teaching virtually no non-religious subjects, especially in boys’ schools.  Girls have the advantage of learning some general subjects that will enable them to earn a living in the future, such as English, mathematics, geography and other subjects, depending on the specific school.  Boys only learn what is called “Holy Studies”; general studies would only be considered an unnecessary distraction.

Citizenship programmes of any sort are not taught at all in these schools, and democratic values are not even considered.  Although Orthodox Jews in foreign countries accept the rules and values of government, in Israel they reject them.  They believe that the Zionist movement is an attempt to hasten the coming of the Messiah; an act that they believe will only delay his arrival.  They do not take the matriculation exams, and do not need them since they also control their own higher education, Yeshivas for the men and teachers’ colleges for women. 

Jewish values are a way of life and Jewish laws and customs are adhered to for theological reasons.  In a survey held among Israel’s Jewish populations between June 1999 and January 2000, examining Jewish –religious behaviour and perception of Jewish identity, 5% of the respondents considered themselves haredim (Ultra Orthodox).  Basically, the majority of Jews in Israel are committed to two distinct values: tradition and individual freedom of choice.  The Ultra Orthodox groups were committed only to tradition (Levy, Levinsohn, and Katz, 2000).

Ultra Orthodox Jews tend to detach themselves from the general public, live in separate neighbourhoods and attend separate schools.  They are not a direct element of this research, yet they impinge on the Israeli pupil’s attitude to Jewish religion.  The extremism promotes polarisation between secular and religious Jews. 

SHAS (Sefardi Torah Observers Party)

The elections for the 11^th Knesset brought a new movement onto the Orthodox scene.  New parties are not uncommon in the Israeli political system, however this was an unique phenomenon.  After many years of the Ashkenazi (Jews from eastern Europe) leadership of the ultra orthodox community, both of the high yeshivas (the educational system) and of political power, Sefardi Jews exerted their power, and started their own movement.  This was more than a new party; it quickly became a grassroots movement with growing membership.  

The significance of this had far-reaching social as well as political ramifications for Sefardi Jews.  They were a group whose identity had been shattered by immigration.  The native born secular Israelis, rejected them and their customs, The Orthodox yeshivas accepted only the cream of the crop, keeping Sefardi numbers down so they wouldn’t threaten their hegemony in rabbinical institutions.  This was accompanied by a patronising and scornful attitude towards what they thought were primitive Sefardi customs and rituals.  The religious state schools that accepted the majority of Sefardi pupils treated them as inferiors, and most of the Ashkenazi pupils were streamed away from the regular schools and into elitist programmes, leaving the Sefardi children behind.  Perhaps the worse blow to Sefardi identity was the strengthening of children’s status, for they adjusted quickly to the new culture, leaving their parents, especially their fathers, who came from patriarchal cultures, feeling useless and powerless. 

The 1970s began the shift of Sefardi submissive acceptance of Ashkenazi supremacy.   Realising their large numbers, they overthrew the labour government, which they associated with the Sabra, the Ashkenazi secular condescending Jew, and for the first time the Likkud party (associated with conservative right wing) won the elections.  The influence of these elections was not limited to party politics, but also changed Israeli society.  More Middle-Eastern music was played on the radio, more television programmes catered to the taste of this population in music and their old country customs and rituals.  They became the majority; in fact they became the New Jew. 

The next step was to start their own ultra-orthodox party, with their leaders heading it for the benefit of their people.  This was direct rebellion against the Ashkenazi world of yeshivas.  SHAS started out as a religious movement, creating its own educational system of yeshivas and teachers’ colleges.  Now they could provide an alternative for young Sefardi who felt discriminated against because they were not accepted to the higher Ashkenazi yeshivas.  It is interesting to note that the dress code and curriculum in the new Sefardi institutions remained a carbon copy of Ashkenazi yeshivas. 

In addition to higher education, SHAS started its own Ultra Orthodox elementary school network, El HaMaayan.  They provided mainly religious education, and appealed to low income families by offering long school days and free lunches.  Political power was exercised to budget these activities. 

The SHAS school system attracted many families who had previously used the state religious school system, and by inducing a general sense of pride in Sefardi origin was an incentive for traditional families to become orthodox.  Although the political movement of SHAS shows great understanding of democracy and its institutions, democratic or pluralistic values are not taught in its schools, and in the tension between Jewish and pluralist values they choose to teach Jewish rituals, religious practices and values (Rachlevsky, 1998).

Ultra Orthodox schools, both SHAS and Ashkenazi schools, taught 15.5% of the Jewish pupil population in the 2001/2002 school year.

State-Religious Schools

The term state-religious school in Israel describes a wide range of schools, co-educational and separate, all of which fall under the category of orthodox, meaning that they all accept halakhic law, as well as most religious rituals as an unchanging reality. In this sector post-modern age has created some interesting and innovative attempts at change; however, the underlying value in these schools is an education towards normative orthodox Jewish life.  Rabbi Yoel Bin-Noon, a leading figure in Religious Zionist education states:

The main task of religious education was to train its graduates so they could fit in modern life in any sphere they would choose, without losing their faith and their religious way of life.  That is the difference between religious education, by its own definition, from Haredi (Ultra-Orthodox) education, which tries to keep its graduates separated from modern life, and from state education, which includes freedom and openness, however faith and tradition are not its goal. (My translation, Bin-Noon, 2000, p.11)

Originally the religious state schools were associated with the Mizrachi party, today the National Religious Party. This political party has been part of the Zionist movement from its early stages (Avineri, 1991, p.61), and Zionist values have always been a central part of its agenda together with religious Jewish ones.  Jewish schools in Judea, Samaria and the Gaza Strip (the official name for those territories occupied in the Six Day War) belong mainly to this stream.  Settling in the Land of Israel, the land promised to Abraham in the book of Genesis, is one of its educational banners.

18.5% of Jewish pupils study in state religious schools, which were also the major educational framework for Sefardi pupils, until their numbers fell with the establishment of the SHAS school network.  Those pupils who consider themselves traditional and do not require an ultra orthodox education remained in the religious state school stream, which provides a general studies programme together with Jewish Studies.  The graduates of these schools take the national matriculation exams, although there are differences with state schools in the content of the tests in some subjects, mainly Bible and Hebrew Literature. 

Since this stream is both religious and Zionist, the issue of pluralist, democratic values is secondary to that of Jewish values, yet it is part of the curriculum.  In many programmes pluralist values are dealt through Jewish sources, and are treated as part of the Jewish Studies programme.  An example of this may be seen in programmes developed as part of the annual topic decided on by the Ministry of Education. Each year the Ministry of Education selects a topic with which schools of the state education system should deal with.  This topic generates many programmes and activities prepared by different ministry departments and by commercial groups, such as theatres, singers, artists or tour guides.  Examples of such topics are Israel’s 50^th anniversary, one hundred years of Zionism, or equality of gender.  The annual topic in 1999 was the Right to Integrity and the Obligation to Respect.  Many programmes were created to deal with the idea of human relations, but the religious state schools preferred to develop their own.  Here, issues discussed by rabbinical sources, dealt with the value of precepts that demand respect between people over those demanding obedience to God (Vinitski, 1999).

However, the study of democratic values through Jewish sources only partially addresses the issue of pluralism and democracy.  Jewish culture is not democratic even though one may find democratic values in Jewish practices.  Authority is in the hands of God and of Halakhic law, not the institutions of state and humankind.  November 4^th 1995, the day Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin was murdered by a religious Zionist young man, was the day when secular Israelis demanded to know which value took priority for religious Jews: democracy or religion.  The murderer, a graduate of the religious state school system and a law student at Bar Ilan University, the pride of religious Zionism, claimed he had committed his act to comply with the halakhic precept of the pursuer.  Save the pursued at the cost of the life of the pursuer (Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Injuries, Laws Concerning Murder and the Preservation of Human Life, Chapter 1:6).  According to Rabbis the murderer relied on, Rabin was about to turn over land to the Palestinians and thus endanger Jews in Israel and in Judea, Samaria and the Gaza Strip.  Since Rabin was a danger to them, it was a precept to kill him.

The murder in itself was traumatic for Israeli society; to have it legitimised by religious sources and authorities further threatened the already fragile relationships in Israeli society.  There was a growing demand for increased democratic studies in the religious state schools, a demand that is yet to be fulfilled.  Occasionally there are articles in Israeli newspapers about schoolgirls or even teachers who are fans of Rabin’s murderer, and speak in his favour. The National Religious Party as well as religious state schools has tried to treat the issue as ‘an isolated weed in our garden’, however it seems that there are many more such weeds.  The major issue, that of what happens when Jewish law requires one to break a law or pervert democratic values remains unanswered. 

Following the murder, many educational programmes aiming at strengthening democratic values were initiated, with the main focus on improving methods of communication between sectors, and finding democratic ways of disagreement.  An example may be seen in a programme to be used by religious state schools, prepared by Bar Ilan University, the university in which the murderer had studied, the only religious university in Israel (Mann and Laor, 1997).  The programme editors state

At the top of its priorities the education system should place education for ideological discussion, rather than power struggles.  Moreover, Israel’s being a pluralist, and in some areas dichotomised in every possible way: nationality, religion, language, culture, origin, economic status and social status, tolerance is an essential condition for coexistence, not out of necessity but out of moral conviction. (My translation, p. 5)

 Some educational programmes have been prepared for use on the annual memorial day for Rabin, such as memorial day service for Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin (The Council of Reform Rabbis in Israel, 1999), containing prayers for a special service held on the day, and readings from Jewish texts both old and new on the subject of disagreement and its resolution.  Other programmes deal with the subject of social disagreement and alternatives in its resolution as a subject to be studied without an immediate connection to the murder or the memorial service (Regev, 2000).   Many attempts were made, both for schoolchildren and adults, to bring the religious and non-religious public together.  The Gesher organisation (Gesher is Hebrew for bridge) runs sessions for the public each memorial day, calling on those who want to meet the Other to attend.  Attempts at creating social covenants are on going and continuous (The Kinneret Covenant, 2002; Gabison and Madan, 1999; Hertzliya Conference, 2001).

It is, of course, wrong as well as unjust to taint the entire national religious population with the heinous murder, and the programmes discussed do not suggest this.  The murder, however, made the split in society visible and impossible to ignore.  Criticism of religious society became more abundant.  Although the state schools too were accused of losing conscience and ideology, religious schools were put to the test even further, and were accused of indoctrinating youth using exercising and practice rather than educating and teaching (Alexander, 2000), teaching behaviour without investing in intelligence, without allowing freedom of thought. 

Three major issues were put forward:

Religious state school must dedicate more time, resources and attention to the issue of democratic values, and devote energy to moral issues.

Israeli democracy should find ways of dealing with its disagreements in a democratic spirit.

The issue of territories, settlements and the peace talks is a split that must be dealt with through talks and hopefully through consensus.

Non-Orthodox Religious factions:

The Reform and the Conservative movements in Israel were considered by Orthodoxy to be a weak and insignificant American import.  Over the years they have grown both in numbers and power.  Rabbis and congregations are no longer restricted to the English speaking communities in Israel, and their rabbinical schools, located in Jerusalem, are drawing in more and more Israelis.  They are viewed by secular Israelis as an alternative for life cycle ceremonies such as Bar Mitzvah, and although their weddings and divorces are not legally recognised in Israel, many Israelis choose their ceremonies, and seek legal recognition elsewhere.  Many secular Israelis, who reject Orthodoxy and the bureaucracy attached to it, embrace the egalitarian approach shared by both these movements. 

The two movements continue to appeal to the state legal system in order to gain equality with Orthodoxy in a variety of matters such as marriage and conversion, and have made definite progress. In February 2002 the High Court ruled in favour of all religious conversions, urging the Ministry of Interior to register Conservative and Reform converts as Jews.  This was considered a tremendous achievement by the two movements as well as by the secular population, although the Orthodox establishment has not yet had its say.  In April of the same year the nationality clause in the identity card was struck out, so as not to give recognition to what is considered by the orthodoxy as unacceptable conversion (The Center for Jewish Pluralism, May 2002).

Although the Conservative and the Reform movements continue to grow slowly in numbers, their impact on Israeli society is stronger than their quantative value.  Both movements are affiliated with institutes of higher education, namely the Hebrew Union College and the Schechter Institute, where many Israelis study either towards post-graduate degrees or continuing education programmes, attended especially by teachers.  The movements’ approaches towards Jewish education are finding a growing number of followers in state schools, as well as in the separate school network of TALI, which they initiated.

State Schools

This research is concerned with the general state school system, which is probably the most difficult to define. This school system, which caters to the needs of all Israelis who do not consider themselves orthodox, educates 66% of Israel’s Jewish schoolchildren. The attitudes of the pupils are multiple: from traditionally inclined who observe some Jewish laws, to atheists, or those who are completely secular. Dealing with traditional issues in this framework is highly problematic due to the diversity in attitudes to religion and tradition. In the first years of the state these issues were avoided, and the texts taught were treated as national canonising texts, not religious ones. None the less, they had influenced the formation of a national identity. The revival of the Hebrew language, previously only used for prayer, the strong historical connection to the land emphasised by using ancient Biblical names for new settlements (Ravitzky, 2000) are examples of the impact that Jewish traditional texts had on education.

Zionist values were incorporated in the educational system. They were considered essential for the creation of the identity of the new Jew, yet teaching Jewish religious subjects to children from non-orthodox families was quite a different matter (Elboim-Dror, 1986).  Jewish values were associated with being in exile, and with being persecuted for two thousand years, and were not to be incorporated into the Sabra, the new Jew. 

It must be made clear that those who rejected two thousand years of Jewish existence in exile were themselves very familiar with the traditional way of life, and had a clear vision of what their desired new Jewish school graduate would be like.  At that stage they could not envisage the effect that ignorance of tradition would have on that graduate’s identity.  The failure to foresee the outcome of such a limited Jewish education soon became clear in the fifties, and a movement for enhancing Jewish consciousness was started.  Teachers found it difficult to add classes on Jewish History of the Diaspora, since it was associated with weakness and inadequacy; however at that time new historians collected Jewish martyrology, recounting tales of Jewish resistance, initiative and bravery despite their status (Mathias, 2002, p.31).

A survey carried out in general state schools in 1973 revealed that many Jewish high school pupils preferred an Israeli definition of their identity to a Jewish one.  This was viewed as a failure, since the state of Israel was (and still is) considered a modern manifestation of Jewish nationality, thus an Israeli identity must be based on a solid Jewish one.  The educational system was immediately called upon to rectify this.  The Institutes for Zionist and Jewish education were established, and each school was invited to take its pupils there for a seminar.  The seminars attempted to raise identity dilemmas, assisting the youth in redefining their own identity, using mainly the model of value clarification (Raths et al. 1978).  No major change was made in subjects taught, but there was a generalised recommendation to emphasise the importance of Jewish solidarity and identity (Perlman, 1986).  Although the mere raising of the issue provided a partial solution to the problem, this did not serve as a comprehensive solution.

When dealing with the issue of identity it is essential to note that different Israelis mean different things by the concept Jewish, however they will all agree that Judaism is not only a religion, it is also a peoplehood. (I use the term peoplehood since nationality, which would be a natural choice, has connotations with statehood and citizenship. Obviously, Israeli Jews do not carry Jewish passports, yet the law of return allows any Jew to settle in Israel and become a citizen immediately). Peoplehood implies a right to a state, a political and cultural entity.  It also implies that not unlike the Arab citizen, an Israeli Jew has mixed loyalties to fellow citizens as well as loyalties and a sense of solidarity with Jews outside Israel.  When Jews in another country are in distress, the Jewish state sees itself responsible to come to their assistance.

 Renan (1882), in his attempt to describe a nation, rejects religion, race, even language as a major factor in the creation of a nation.

A nation is a soul, a spiritual principle… To have common glories in the past and to have a common will in the present; to have performed great deeds together, to wish to perform still more – these are the essential conditions for being a people. One loves in proportion to the sacrifices to which one has consented,… (19).

In his lecture at the Sorbonne Renan is describing the 19^th century European State, which to a certain degree resembles Israel, since Israeli citizens are not all Jewish, and they do not all share the same culture or language. Although attempting to use Renan’s analysis to describe the Jewish people in Israel proves impossible, the fact that nationality in his 19^th century description is an emotion, a feeling, not necessarily a common religion, resembles the attitude of Israeli Jews to the state. 

There were also changes made in the school curriculum, and Talmudic literature was added to the mandatory curriculum.  Other subjects such as Jewish Philosophy were also encouraged, however, lack of suitable teachers, lack of interest on the part of pupils and head-teachers coupled with a feeling of the subjects’ irrelevance to the pupils’ lives, prevented them from having any nation-wide impact. (Lewy, 1993, p.8).

In 1991 the Ministry of Education appointed a commission to submit recommendations concerning the promotion of Jewish studies in state schools. The issue was not that of Jewish identity, as had been the concern in the1973 survey. This commission dealt with the issue of the ignorance of Israeli schoolchildren in the field of Jewish cultural materials, and made recommendations regarding the teaching of these materials in a pluralist, democratic way. Here, as in both other approaches previously mentioned, Judaism was not the only goal; the committee was interested in co-existence between Judaism and pluralist, universal values. In 1994, the Shenhar Commission presented its recommendations to the Minister of Education who adopted their conclusions and presented them in a document entitled "People and World - Jewish Culture in a Changing World."

Teachers were encouraged to bring Jewish texts into the classroom, however many had little knowledge how this was to be done, since they had never read those texts themselves.  An ‘in-service training centre’ for teachers opened, to familiarise interested teachers with how to work with Jewish texts.  This was a period of great interest in what came to be known as ‘the Jewish bookcase’ a term used to describe ancient Jewish texts as well as modern ones, such as poems and modern interpretations of ancient texts. 

New programmes were written, in an attempt to attract pupils to Jewish texts through a modern and relevant approach. In a programme called Disagreement in Israel and among the Nations an interdisciplinary approach examines the subject of disagreement in history, in political science, in Jewish thought, rabbinical texts and literature [Regev et al. (eds.) 2000].  In another programme, “Therefore Choose Life:” The Value of Human Life in Jewish Culture Jewish texts answered existential questions, inviting pupils to take part (Cohen, 1980).  Bar Mitzvah programmes were developed to make a ceremony that had lost much of its relevance into a learning and meaningful experience. 

As opposed to the religious approach we read our sources critically, and we take the liberty to choose from the material in front of us according to the values of the individual and of society (my translation, original emphasis, Regev Z. and Regev M., 1995).

Although much attention was drawn in the direction of Jewish studies and Jewish identity, democratic values and citizenship education were also cause for concern.  The issue of Israeli youth's attitude to democracy was subject to many discussions, and in addition to some sporadic attempts at incorporating activities promoting democracy in the regular school curriculum (Zidkiyahu, 1994).  Experimental schools aimed at teaching democracy as a living principle, not in a specific lesson, but as a way of life.  Two of these experiments have withstood the test of time, the democratic school network and the community schools.

Democratic Schools

The first democratic school in Israel was established in the town of Hadera, by a charismatic headteacher and interested parents.  The idea behind this experiment was that democracy could not be taught, it had to be lived, and if one wanted to teach democracy the proper conditions should be applied.  The statement that schools are not designed to be democratic was unacceptable to these pioneers; they believed that schools could become places where children could experience democracy (Hecht, 1998, p.3).  There are roughly eighty schools either at stages of becoming democratic or considering themselves applying democracy in all aspects of school life.  In his article The Democratic Idea and Western Thought Raviv Reicheart (1998) suggests using Laswell and Kaplan’s definition of democracy as the basis for educational thought.  Personal responsibility is considered the basic characteristic of democratic schools that are interested in achieving not only a passive acceptance of democracy but aiming at an involved democratic participant.  Rule of majority with no favouritism is the second principle, which raises the issue of individual welfare versus society’s welfare.  Civil rights are the third value axis for schools.  Democratic schools in Israel have strong pupil participation in decision-making, and sometimes parental involvement in school life.  Some of the democratic school qualities resemble open education as seen in Summerhill  (Neill, 1970). However, the aim here is different, and the individual pupil, although important, must be educated towards responsibility not only to himself but to society as well. 

Critics of democratic schools refer to a major flaw in registration procedures. Specialised schools in Israel have arisen as a method of escaping integration, and democratic schools are no exception to this.  While school subsidies and scholarships provide a response to the needs of children less financially fortunate, there is, none the less, an admissions committee.  Since there are many applicants, the school is forced to make selections, and the criteria is the child’s suitability to democratic values, determined by her and her parents commitment to democratic values.  The critics claim this to be partial and reflect favouritism, because decisions are made on the basis of parental background, which is undemocratic.  This, the critics claim, is a way of providing the elite with the kind of education they want for their children.

Community schools also practice democratic values.  These schools see themselves as a central element of the community, and encourage parents’ involvement together with pupils, teachers and other community agents such as the municipality’s representatives, voluntary organisations and others.  This does not mean that the local police, for example, will influence the literature curriculum, however they may be invited, if this is decided on, to give lessons on drug abuse prevention.  Although democracy is not the central issue here, the values of participation, personal responsibility and accountability, and institutionalised decision making are closely linked with democratic ideology.  There are 200 community schools in Israel, with different levels of community involvement (Ben Shahar, 1991).

The need for a citizenship education programme remained, one that would be suitable for all Israeli pupils: religious and non religious, Jewish and Arab. These experiments, although quite large scale, stayed on the fringes of the state educational system.  A steering committee was nominated in March 1995, six months before the traumatic murder of Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin.  These were days of hope, since

…the peace process between Israel an its neighbours puts on Israel’s agenda the nature and continued existence of civil peace within its boundaries…There is cause for concern that with the improvement of security conditions and the strengthening sense of existential safety, internal tensions will rise. (My translation, The Steering Committee for Citizenship Education, 1996).

The committee’s concern was whether Israeli society would be strong enough to withstand peaceful conditions, and whether it would be wise enough to turn its resources no longer needed for security to the benefit of individual welfare.

Unfortunately, by the time the committee presented its conclusions Rabin had been murdered and Israeli society suffered a severe blow to its democracy as well as to relations between religious and non-religious citizens.  The Kremnitser report, submitted a partial document.  Originally the committee had been required to make recommendations regarding all Israeli schools, but the recommendations made in 1996 applied only to state schools, and an examination of the religious and Arab sectors was still to be undertaken.

The Kremnitser Report discusses attitudes towards citizenship in the twenty-first century, stating that commitment to a democratic regime and assimilation of civil rights as a basic truth are at the root of democratic societies.  The committee stresses that

The active citizen sees himself/herself as responsible for what happens in his/her community and state.  He/she feels solidarity towards others, is empathetic towards the weak, the suffering, the needy or the one who has been wronged.  He/she is willing to accept the Other, is aware of the advantage of diversity, is open to cultures other than his/her own and is open and tolerant of differing attitudes.  He/she has a tendency to communicate with people, to cooperate, to partnership and leadership. (My translation, The Steering Committee for Citizenship Education, 1996:17).

Following the two value oriented committees, Shenhar (Jewish education) and Kremnitzer (democratic values), there was an increased demand for special programmes.  The initial reaction on the part of the Ministry of Education was the mapping out of values already dealt with by existing curricula.  It was unclear whether there would be any budget to back up the committees’ recommendations.  The data was collected by experts in different fields, who studied the curriculum and revealed the values behind it.  They then made suggestions regarding the way these values could be taught. The results of their review are published in the ministry’s Internet site (http://www.education.gov.il/tochniyot_limudim/arachim/index.html, June 25^th, 2002).

Programmes discussing democratic education were initiated not only for the religious sector but also for state schools, the pedagogic approach being one of dilemma discussion and analysis, such as the discussion appearing in Democracy Being Tested (Ministry of Education, 2002), where issues such as Shabbat (the Sabbath Day) are dealt with from a secular point of view as well as from a religious point of view, and the limits of freedom of choice is analysed.  Dilemmas, as systems of value education, are a means of allowing pupils to form their opinions in near-life situations (Rubinstein, 2002).

TALI

Concern regarding the issue of Jewish identity was not limited to the ministry and its officials.  In 1976 a group of parents, mainly from the Conservative Movement, exercised their right by law to influence 25% of the curriculum, and began "TALI", the Hebrew acronym for Enriched Jewish Studies. TALI’s major goals may be summarised on three levels: the transfer of Jewish heritage to the pupil, inviting the pupil to take part in his heritage, and encouraging him to contribute to its development (Levin, 1990).

The degree to which ritual religious aspects are taught versus the teaching of national or cultural aspects in Israeli schools is subject to debate in Israeli society, and it has clear implications regarding the forming of a Jewish identity (Schweid, 1996). TALI has made a genuine attempt to introduce not only cultural materials, such as Jewish history, literature and Bible into the curriculum, and not only an academic study of issues which concern Jews, but actual prayers and rituals. Before TALI this was not possible in the general, secular school system (Shapira, 1997).

Rabin’s Murder and State Schools

A deep understanding of the context of Israeli society today cannot be complete without discussing traumatic events of recent years, and especially with the murder of Prime Minister Rabin.  I have previously discussed the impact this murder has had on state-religious schools, which were called upon to rethink their values and reconsider the democratic and universal elements they taught.  The murder had an impact on Israel’s secular population as well, and on state schools. 

Many books were published before the murder, dealing with issues of Jewish identity between nationality and religion, however a majority of these writings were by religious authors.  Following the assassination this subject also became of interest in non-religious circles.  A much-debated book, Messiah’s Donkey, introduced the Zionist non-religious movement, as the donkey on which the Messiah would ride on his way to redemption.  The donkey is expendable once the Messiah arrives, or if the donkey is in the way; Rabin represents that donkey together with other secular segments of society. (Rachlevsky, 1998).

Although Rachlevsky was not the first to point at the cultural war between religious and non-religious factions, Rabin’s murder no longer made it a theoretical question.  Jewish writings throughout the years have presented a wide variety of values and attitudes, tolerant views alongside extremely nationalistic, even chauvinistic views. The need to determine what was meant by the vague intention of educating children in the light of Jewish heritage, became more apparent, the need to define Jewish identity more urgent.

One Sector Meets the Other:

Following Rabin’s murder, the secular public began showing a keen interest in what was being taught in religious schools.  It became apparent that no democratic education was occurring there and a public discussion of the need for democratic education began.  This was followed by a committee, who treated the issue of democratic values in schools much in the same way as Jewish identity issues had been treated (teacher training, ready-to-use programmes).

Meetings between religious and non-religious youth have always taken place in Israel, in attempts to try and find common ground, some sort of understanding between sectors.  Following the murder these meetings increased, however, it now seemed that their purpose had altered.  Prior to the murder, Rabbi Kook’s metaphor of the loaded carriage, representing religion, and the empty one representing secular Jews was predominant: the non-religious youth came to meet religious youth feeling that they had a lot to learn from them. Following the murder secular Jews, even school children, felt less inferior.  No one could now say they were without values; they had seen what religious values could achieve.  The meetings now were not only about Jewish values but about democratic values as well.

International conferences were introduced, both in an attempt to learn conflict resolution from other parts of the world, such as Ireland, and in order to expand understanding regarding multi-culturalism. We Must Agree How to Disagree was the title of an international conference held in May 2000, hosting speakers from a wide range of countries in the Knesset, an indication of the importance attached to it by the legislators.  The aim of the conference was to give voice to world organisations dealing with persuading opposing teams to negotiate (The Minister for Society and Diaspora, 2000).

The Intifada and State Schools

The majority of this research was being conducted while a second national crisis was taking place: the second Palestinian Intifada, known as the Al Aqsa Intifada. I have spoken about this previously while discussing the Arab population. However, one must consider the devastating effect of the violent outbreak on the Israeli population in general and on the pupils and teachers involved in this research.

Following some years of growing hopes for peace, the Oslo agreements on the way, the withdrawal from Lebanon completed, the atmosphere was ripe for tolerant and accepting views.  The new Intifada caught the Israeli public unprepared and extremely vulnerable.  Suicide bombers brought fear into the lives of many pupils.  One cannot ignore the impact these events had on both teachers and pupils.  The sudden transfer from hopes for peace to the horror of terrorist suicide attacks is central to the context of this research.

In previous years there had been meetings organised between Arab and Jewish pupils, and although these were not mainstream activities, some, at least, were organised by units of the Ministry of Education, and therefore reflected official policy.  Although these meeting were never held with Palestinians from the Occupied Territories, but only with Arab Israeli citizens, they were an opportunity to know the Other and shake off some preconceived notions on both sides.  These meetings, although on the margins of society, were seen as a hopeful sign for a better future, and they still take place, under the auspices of the Deputy Foreign Minister, Rabbi Malkior.  This does not mean that when Arabs and Jews meet it is an issue of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the fact that Rabbi Malkior directs this operation is a result of Israeli coalition politics, since his office is concerned with Israeli society and the Diaspora.  His office reports that a survey, conducted by a highly esteemed institute in Israel (Hanoch Smith Institute), among over sixty organisations dealing with coexistence projects, found that 95% of them believe these activities should continue and be strengthened after the October 2000 events of violent Arab riots in which13 young men were shot dead by Israeli police.  The activities benefited equally both Jewish and Arab populations, according to 77% of the many organisations.  The task of bringing together participants is now more difficult and projects are far fewer according to 72% of these organisations.

Summary:

This chapter introduced major sectors in Israeli society, as they are reflected in the educational system.  Recent traumatic events such as the murder of Prime Minister Rabin and the suicide bomber attacks of the Al Aqsa Intifada were discussed, and the extent of their impact was examined, together with slow, long-term changes.  Despite the reported difficulties of attempts to encourage different sectors to meet, even sectors that seem extremely distant from each other, awareness persists of the ultimate need to come to terms with other groups so that democracy will prevail. 

Chapter 2: Literature Review

All of us need moral commitments that stand above the petty concerns and squabbles of everyday life.  We should be prepared to mount an active defence of these values wherever they are poorly developed, or threatened.  Cosmopolitan morality itself needs to be driven by passion.  None of us would have anything to live for if we didn’t have something worth dying for. (Giddens, 1999, p.50)

This is Giddens’ answer to the challenging questions posed by fundamentalism in the age of globalisation, the age he prefers to call late modernity rather than imply a post-modern transition.  It is clear to him, as it is to others, that values, ethics and morals give reason to life, add meaning, and therefore are indispensable.  While fundamentalists call for a return to ancient truths, scriptures, beliefs and their values, the values he presents as worth fighting for are what he calls ‘cosmopolitan values’, values associated with democracy, universalism and tolerance, and the local, particularistic values are ignored.  However, the dynamics of globalisation in late modernity do not pull in one direction only.  It is true that many societies find their economic independence diminished, but there is also a revival of local cultural identities in different parts of the world.  This revival is in response to the weakening of the state in face of global pressures.

Thus Giddens is relevant to this research, which addresses the implications of tensions between cosmopolitan values, and local, particularistic ones, and their effect on education in Israel. In this chapter I will discuss tensions and attitudes in value education.  Different approaches to the improvement of thinking in school will be discussed, as well as issues of religious education.

Durkheim (1956) used the word education in a broader sense, meaning not merely formal instruction, but what we now call ‘socialisation’, and he stressed the duty of schools to prepare younger generations for adult life in society.  Preparation for adulthood in society could be achieved, he said, through the acceptance of the culture and values of the social/national setting.  Discipline is a major factor in education, and is used to moderate the selfish desires of the individual, leading the individual to the common values and beliefs of society. The socialisation approach, essentially a transmission model, is based on the assumption that the educational encounter has a passive participant and an active one.   The pupil is passive and his only activity is in absorbing all he is taught, and the teacher is the knowledgeable and active member of this interaction.  New approaches to value education were introduced, since the transmission model can only work when it is held in a holistic framework, where school, family, media, peers and any other agencies affecting the individual share a common set of values and beliefs.  Diverse influences imply more than one source of authority, and this interferes with the effectiveness of transmission.

In the mid-twentieth century John Dewey’s philosophy influenced approaches to value education, especially in regarding children as ‘having the capacity to determine their own moral standards (Hunter 2000, p.60).  This philosophy had vast implications for schools, which, being conservative by nature, had not envisaged the progressive idea that children could be taught democratic values by experiencing democracy during the course of daily school life.  Following Dewey’s philosophy the National Education Association’s Educational Policies Commission in the USA published a list of desired values, all dictated by reason and subject to reinterpretation according to changing circumstances.  Particular values of different religions were privatised, that is to say they were not included in the educational curriculum and were left to the discretion of family or church.  The individual was placed at the centre of his moral universe: “supreme, autonomous, rational, evolving, and basically good”(Hunter, p.64). 

The transmission model implied by Durkheim’s approach consists of an agreed set of norms and values shared by society and understood to be an important part in the individual’s education.  In the post-modern era of diversity, transmission will inevitably be incomplete, since there is a multitude of transmissions occurring simultaneously; therefore it is not possible (or even desirable) to attempt to duplicate any value system.  In the early sixties of the twentieth century the Supreme Court of the USA declared that prayers and Bible reading in public schools was unconstitutional.  This is symbolic of the movement away from traditional approaches to moral education, as presented both by Durkheim and Dewey, in the direction of the pupil uninterrupted forging his own values and identity.  Developmental psychologists, mainly Piaget and Kohlberg, created models to understand children’s development, morally, psychologically and cognitively.  Kohlberg suggested a six-stage approach to value development, however this model as well as other developmental approaches had little impact on school curriculum.  Despite the limited impact Kohlberg’s model had on schooling around the world, the developmental approach implicitly influenced value education programmes in their attempts to plan the correct timing for the introduction of each value.  An example of this may be seen in Power’s work on the minorities’ approach to pluralism in the USA.  He suggests the following:

Prejudice is an a priori judgement; it does not necessarily depend on the developmental stage of moral judgement.  An a priori judgement is derived from “feelings” which are not subject to cognitive scrutiny, and therefore are not integrated into the cognitive schema which are used to “figure out” or “judge” other matters. (1992, p.74)

While Power’s approach exposes one weakness of the developmental approach to value education, namely that it relies heavily on cognitive development, it implies that there are beliefs that precede reason, and therefore are not subjected to it, that prevent passage from one stage to the next.  Recognition of obstacles in the way of value acquisition is an advantage of the developmental approach.

  The values clarification model developed by Raths, Harmin and Simon (1966) became a widespread method of teaching throughout the USA, and found its followers in Israel as well.  The values clarification approach suggested pupils could decide for themselves, declare their choices and rationally explain them.  While any attempt to influence the child would be morally unacceptable, it is important to note this approach did not deny the need to provide moral education.  It did not teach values in the strict sense of the word, however it allowed young people to think about values, to consider their own lives, and to perceive what is valuable in them, to treat others and their values non-judgementally, and to choose their path in life. 

There are, however, those who cross the line of value education even further, and oppose value instruction altogether.  Neill takes this developmental model further and claims that the transfer between stages cannot be induced.  He compares moral education to walking; stating that pushing a child to walk before he is ‘naturally ready’ may achieve bandy legs.  

My experience of many years in handling children at Summerhill convinces me there is no need whatsoever to teach children how to behave.  A child will learn what is right and what is wrong in good time – provided he is not pressured.

Learning is a process of acquiring values from the environment.  If parents are themselves honest and moral, their children will, in good time, follow the same course. (Original emphasis, p. 224).

Although Neill claims to oppose instruction for values, he describes transmission pedagogy of modelling, without actually acknowledging it.  He considers this to be a natural process, and that the provision of a positive example is important for the child’s development.   We find that providing a positive example is as problematic as any other transmission pedagogy today.  There are a multitude of examples the child faces in a day: teachers, friends, the bus driver, television characters, parents, the grocer and many others.  Each may be a model, however, we cannot be sure they will all be ‘good examples'.  Arguing that they are not equally influential does not solve this issue either, since we may find the televised character who beats little children who annoy him, or drinks to oblivion, carries more weight than the history teacher who exemplifies all that is good.  Relying on nature to organise a setting for value experimenting is dangerous. 

The school’s role as moral educator becomes even more vital at a time when millions of children get little moral teaching from their parents and where value-centred influences such as church or temple are also absent from their lives.  These days, when schools don’t do moral education, influences hostile to good character rush in to fill the values vacuum. (Lickona 1991, p.20)

Whether developmental or Values Clarifications are the applied pedagogies, they deal with values in their capacity as a person’s compass or ethics.  At the beginning of the twenty-first century we find dissatisfaction with this approach, since it places the human at the centre of attention, and completely disregards elements such as religion or nationality (unless the pupil alone brings the issue into focus).  In Poland, Kolakowski writes of rebellion against cultural values, unless rebellion is embedded in the values discussed.  He declares that the awakening of thinking only appears when one can understand the signals of one’s own culture to the degree of internalising them, becoming ‘domesticated’ by them, since otherwise there would be no continuation, no significance or ability to understand. (1970).  Postman (1995), speaks of the need to return to the American narrative; the National Curriculum finds it necessary to teach citizenship in England; worldwide we encounter the need for particularistic, local values to be considered in schools.  These are generally associated with a traditional, puritan method of transmission discussed earlier.  This thesis studies the tensions between approaches: those nurturing the individual and the ability to think, to learn and to create a personal moral world; and those returning to a more normative-particularistic value system, aimed at helping the young generation become at one with their culture, sharing the values, norms and ideas of their society.

Thinking is generally referred to as a cognitive issue, but will be treated in this thesis as a value in itself as in The Development of Values, Attitudes and Personal Qualities (Halstead and Taylor, 2000).  Values may be seen as a matter of cognitive development, as understanding and decision-making, or as a manner of developing attitudes and beliefs.  This research will be more interested in the individual’s inclination or disposition to apply critical, scientific thought in life, as a matter of personal and public value, along the lines of Halstead’s general definition of values, who suggests that we refer to values as

…ideals, standards or life stances which act as general guides to behaviour or as points of reference in decision making or evaluation of beliefs or action and which are closely connected to personal integrity and personal identity. (1996, p. 5). 

Halstead continues to differentiate between a mono-cultural and a pluralist society, and states that the latter must have a minimum set of agreed upon values. Diversity of school population, be it pupils or teachers, rules out the promotion of particularistic values or at least limits it, and the search for an agreed set of values is a complicated task.  This may have been possible in the age of modernity, when reason was accepted as the ultimate answer in place of religion.  Rationality, a central element of cognitive schooling, may be considered the foundation for modernity’s values.  Many institutions, however, have used rationality, as a means of excluding marginal groups (Tucker 1998, p.131).  Postmodernism, Tucker contends, considers this wrong, and he rejects the notion of one rational account. 

Postmodernists reject the search for laws in history – but they go further and discard the very idea of an inner principle determining outward appearances, whether it is Freud’s notion of the unconscious or Marx’s idea of class struggle.  Any such attempt to find an essence of society or the person is merely a form of social power, which imposes a false coherence on the diversity of social life. (p. 131)

Tucker provides a schematic criticism of modernity from a post-modern viewpoint.  Postmodernism is concerned with social differences rather than with a community; with the diversity of truths rather than the rational quest for the ultimate truth; it finds that language is metaphoric, and rather than represent the truth, it represents the speaker’s truth.  The self is deconstructed in post-modernity, and is replaced by constantly changing selves, according to class, gender, profession and age.  Ling and Stephenson (1998) speak of the tension between a country struggling to preserve identity while attempting to acquire the values of internationalism, while at the same time

there is the tension created by often sizable sections of a country’s population striving to maintain their own ‘higher’ or stricter code of morals or behaviour in the face of influences from the dominant culture within both the country and the ‘shrinking world’. (p. 16).

In this diversity of concepts and interests, schools operate and attempt to teach values. The following paragraphs will portray the way British education has dealt with values over the last two decades.

In 1988 the Education Reform Act required that schools provide a balanced curriculum, with special attention to

…the spiritual, moral and cultural…development of pupils at the school and of society…(GB. Statutes, 1988, adapted from Halstead and Taylor, 2000)

The goal of such development was to prepare them for adult life and its responsibilities. This was followed by attempts to guide schools in how this preparation for the responsibilities of adulthood might be achieved.  A discussion document on Spiritual and Moral Development, first issued in 1993, listed the values to be taught:

…telling the truth; keeping promises; respecting the rights and property of others; acting considerately towards others; helping those less fortunate and weaker than ourselves; taking personal responsibility for one’s actions; self discipline. (In Halstead and Taylor, 2000, p.12)

However, the real catalyst for schools to reassess their values was the OFSTED inspections report on the spiritual, moral, social and cultural development of pupils. (GB. Statutes 1992).  The pupils SMSC (spiritual, moral, social and cultural) development was evaluated as part of the quality of education provided, and was determined not only by the stated opportunities the school provided but also by pupils’ response to those opportunities, in order to discover whether pupils were actually developing their own values. The inspectors’ judgements should be based on

The extent a school

Provides its pupils with knowledge and insight into values and beliefs and enables them to reflect on their experiences in a way which develops their spiritual awareness and self knowledge;

Teaches the principles which distinguish right from wrong;

Encourages pupils to relate positively to others, take responsibility, participate fully in the community, and develop an understanding of citizenship; and

Teaches pupils to appreciate their own cultural traditions and the diversity and richness of other cultures. (OFSTED 1995, p. 19, from Halstead and Taylor, 2000).

Before analysing the actual categories for inspection, note should be made of the similar treatment given to values education and to other curricular issues for which schools are held accountable, such as literacy and mathematics.  Control and surveillance are achieved through inspection, thus ensuring low teacher involvement (Yates, 2000a, p.26).  Moreover, the underlying assumption that there is a need for a single values curriculum that will be appropriate for all English schools is amazing in postmodern times, when diversity is so well celebrated.  It is clear that schools still operate within modernity’s rationality, while the pupils’ needs are based on preparing for adulthood in the postmodern era. 

The first two categories of inspectors’ judgements could easily be explained as part of the body of knowledge schools are expected to teach.  Pupils would become acquainted with values and beliefs and would recognise their own.  There are principles one can teach (and learn) that would enable a person to distinguish right from wrong, and these are universal principles on which, pupils, parents and teachers could agree.  OFSTED inspectors could examine these objectives, and schools could present their achievements by submitting test results or by other measurable standards.  The next two categories are quite different, since they speak of teaching pupils to show empathy and to become involved, to belong to the specific culture into which they were born.  Although these categories are mentioned as part of schools’ duties, it is not clear how this is to be achieved or what would be considered success.

Even the pluralist values to be achieved seem extremely limited, since knowledge of values and distinguishing right from wrong constitute a weak framework for an educational plan.  Halstead (1996) argues that in order to be influential, values taught at school should be universal yet not limited to the point where they mean very little. He suggests that values belong to three categories: basic social order, acceptance of a common system of government and a commitment to attempt change only by democratic means, and lastly, the commitment to values presupposed by a pluralist ideal.  Although Halstead does not discuss particularistic values, his approach presumes a predominance of democratic ideology over any other value system, as a safeguard against the absence of any common denominator in society.

Thinking, be it critical, scientific, reflective or creative will be treated here as a value presupposed by the pluralist ideal. Doubt, understood as a predisposition for critical reflection, is a central element in late modern existence and in its value system.

Modernity is a post-traditional order, but not one in which the sureties of tradition and habit have been replaced by the certitude of rational knowledge. Doubt, a pervasive feature of modern critical reason, permeates into everyday life as well as philosophical consciousness, and forms a general existential dimension of the contemporary social world.” (Giddens, 1991, pp. 2-3).

Doubt and trust are two poles of one of late modernity’s dialectics, and both are central to the development of self-identity.  Trust is essential for the development of a secure identity, and is acquired at infancy.  Failure to develop trust may lead to anxieties, which will debilitate the individual from doubting and critically thinking.  Critical thought stems from doubt, which can be nurtured in a secure individual, and is a pre-requisite for developing reflective critical thinking.

Just as trust is essential in establishing a sense of security so important for the development of a sound and stable self, doubt is essential for developing knowledge.  No aspect of life is predetermined; therefore there should be space for reassessment, critical reflection and doubt.

The inclusion of critical thinking in the value framework of school might be viewed as an imposition of middle class western morality on the individual (Halstead and Taylor 2000). It is my argument, however, that it has become clear that success in today’s postmodern western society requires compliance with these values and dispositions, and further, that schools, to facilitate their students’ success, would teach these issues without hesitation.  As all attempts to improve pupils’ thinking are trying to develop a person’s thinking qualitatively (McGuinness, 1999),

High quality thinking is emphasised in most approaches and there is a need to design learning tasks, which are not routine but have a degree of open-endedness and uncertainty to permit learners to impose meaning or to make judgements or to produce multiple solutions. (Research Brief 115).

Although this research report presents many taxonomies for thinking, there is a need for more than the taxonomy, rather an openness of mind, which would encourage pupils’ inclination to thinking activities.  Developing pupils thinking skills and inclinations promotes complementary changes in teachers and in a school’s ethos, and although these outcomes are not the original goals, they are desirable.  Teachers’ thinking, and more than this, schools’ ethos, is not only related to cognition and direct learning skills, but to the development of values’ education.  As McGuiness puts it:

Increasingly it is recognised that developing thinking skills has implications not only for pupils’ thinking but for teacher development and teacher thinking as well as for the ethos of schools as learning communities. (Research Brief 115).

 The development of children’s thinking processes has become a central goal in today’s education, as one means of dealing with the unending flow of information. It has become more than evident that one cannot teach all the knowledge a student might need for the duration of her life, and thinking is perceived as a tool the student may apply alone as she acquires new information (Dewey, 1916).

Many techniques are used in order to reach these goals, based on the perception of human nature. Gardner and his followers introduce the concept of multiple intelligences, treating thinking as a broader concept, not limited to logical or verbal issues only. Students may be active thinkers even when their logical or verbal capabilities are not advanced. They may use their strong points such as music, space perception, human understanding and empathy, and thus reach high-level thinking (Gardner, 1993). This may be achieved through a community of thinking, where each member brings his/her specific intelligence, so contributing to the joint product of the entire group. A number of Israeli schools attempt to implement this approach, and it has influenced many other schools, and has even filtered into the curriculum in subjects such as literature, English as a foreign language and Bible.

Goleman (1995) introduces emotional intelligence, which is innate in some and must be learned by others in order to be applied well. This intelligence is not cognitive by nature; it deals with interpersonal relations, empathy and, to a degree, intuition. Many educators are attracted to this approach since it provides another tool for thinking, an alternative to rationality.  This approach has many followers in the Israeli educational system, and is referred to as “wisdom of the heart”.

 Cognitive coaching is yet another technique used, to enable thinking, the coach plans an activity based on available data and desired results in terms of reflection and cognition. (Costa & Garmston, 1994). This technique too is based on interaction between coach and coached, and is commonly used in many frameworks, not limited to the educational field.  It serves as a means to lead someone through a thinking process, and is based on a coach who knows where one should go, and the coached, who is still to be convinced.

In their ‘spoken book’ Freire and Faundez discuss the importance of asking questions for the development of quality thinking, as part of a pedagogy of liberation.  They stress the role of curiosity and call on schools to avoid stifling that quality:

Paulo:… I should like to stress once again the need constantly to stimulate curiosity, the act of asking questions, instead of repressing it.  Schools either reject questions or they bureaucratise the act of asking them

…At the root human existence involves surprise, questioning and risk.  And, because of all this it involves action and change.  Bureaucratisation, however, means adaptation with a minimum of risk, with no surprises, without asking questions.  And so we have a pedagogy of answers, which is a pedagogy of adaptation, not a pedagogy of creativity. (Freire and Faundez, 1989, p.40)

Another approach is the community of enquiry developed by Matthew Lipman (1988) and Ann Sharp (1991). In this framework children and teachers have the opportunity to question and investigate any text chosen by the community for discussion. Philosophical discussions are used to develop thinking either as a separate educational agenda or as part of the regular curriculum, and questioning is a tool enabling pupils to improve their thinking and move to a higher order of thinking.  The questions asked are logical, ethical, epistemological, metaphysical or aesthetic (Fisher, 1998).  A growing number of schools in Israel teach philosophy for children, using the community of enquiry to do so. It is interesting to note that the texts used to provoke philosophical enquiry are Jewish texts, either religious or cultural. Bearing in mind that philosophical enquiry demands complete freedom to question, doubt and investigate whatever the community chooses, it is surprising to find religious texts used for this purpose. The choice made by the programme leaders in Israel is not arbitrary, and in addition to their aim of allowing children to exercise their ability to question and enquire, they also wish to expose them to texts of cultural significance.

It is interesting to note that all these programmes emphasise the community, the group. They are not thinking techniques for the individual to develop alone, as a bodybuilder would develop muscles. The group is essential, since thought develops through discussion, reflection and further discussion. Sharp relates to the democratic values inherent in a community of enquiry,

It is only in this way [community of enquiry] that the next generation will be prepared socially and cognitively to engage in the necessary dialogue, judging and on-going questioning that is vital to the existence of a democratic society and the maintenance of the planet earth and survival of the species (1998, p.36).

Community is important in many programmes struggling with the task of mass education in our times, and a clear example of this can be seen in the use of community schools in inner urban schools.  The concept of community schools was initially introduced in order to address some of the problems facing inner city schools, such as low achieving pupils with poor motivation for schooling, alienation from school and its values, and teacher burnout. 

The ideological appeal of this concept is considerable because it appears to offer a mode of working ‘ within the system’  while at the same time encouraging critical opposition to it.  The urban community school in particular makes a comprehensive ideological appeal.  In celebrating the values of ‘community’ knowledge’ as against ‘academic’ knowledge…(original emphasis, Grace, 1978, p.82)

All of these approaches to thinking make it clear that we are not speaking of a value-free activity when discussing thinking, but rather about pluralistic, democratic values. Can these values be nurtured together with religious particularistic values? Elliott (1991) has pointed out that

The Humanities Curriculum Project was designed as a specification of a worthwhile 'educational' process of teaching and learning about value issues, without determining precisely what the outcomes would be.

The problem identified was 'how do teachers handle value issues in classrooms within a pluralistic democracy’? (pp. 136-7).

Freire has an idea of how this should be done, and he speaks first of the necessity for the teacher to recognise himself as a political being, while paying careful attention to not try to force his convictions on pupils:

It is contradictory to proclaim progressive politics and then to practice authoritarianism or opportunism in the classroom.  A progressive position requires democratic practice where authority never becomes authoritarianism, and where authority is never so reduced that it disappears in a climate of irresponsibility and license. (Freire, 1986, p.212)

Plunkett (1990) marks five propositions behind the value crisis, the first being the rising levels of personal and social aggression, which undermine human relationships.  In this proposition he combines racism, sectarianism, neo-fascism and sexism with survival strategies expressed by juvenile crime and physical violence.  Another kind of aggression is passivity caused by dropping out and creating an alienated marginal culture.  The second proposition is polarisation of concepts, whereby one polarity defines the other, creating a fragmented and mechanised view of the world.  When left is defined by right, poor by rich and vice versa, each views its side as the only valid one, thus rejecting the other, rendering it wrong or bad. The third proposition is that formal education is inflexible and does not respond to changing needs. Schools are continuing to promote yesterday’s needs and values, and tend to neglect those of today; imagination, creativity and compassion, important elements of thinking in its broader sense, are stifled.   The fourth and fifth propositions move from criticism to suggested action, stating that educational reforms are needed to nurture the development of both the individual and society, and that every individual carries the same weight in a discussion of values.

The connection between thinking and values is made apparent in Plunkett’s discussion, while the issue of identity is brought into focus as well.  The individualistic approach to identity is one pole, however tradition and culture are not yet out of the picture, as found in Giddens’ approach to self-identity as a reflexive trajectory project. Tradition and culture have a binding emotional and moral force since they are tied to ritual and memory. Ritual force is linked to repetition, and is most effective when it isn’t understood, yet in late modernity tradition must be rationally defended. Giddens sees a connection between reflexivity, the rise of self-help groups and more democratic societies.  The dynamics between values which may be logically explained and understood, and those values which involve ritual and are at their very best when they are not understood, are part of late modern existence, ambivalence and self identity.

Self-identity is more fluid, subject to democratic values and rationality in the post-traditional society.  Tradition is based on repetition, and reflexivity modernises and changes; hence repetition is stopped.  Self-identity needs more than tradition to lean on.  It is a reflexive project consisting of organizing narratives of personal, traditional and social background.  Modernity is reflected by globalisation and universalism on the one hand, and locality and nationality on the other.  The tension between the two has been raised time and again since the early days of modernity; however reflexivity between polar dynamics is at the core of our times.  Science and technology offer only some of the answers, and doubt casts shadows on science just as it did on irrational practices.  Trust, the opposite pole, provides stability amidst doubts, while religion and nationality have not yet completed their role.  There is a constant reflexive dialogue between the self and society, which are both limited as in family and nation, and vast as in mankind and environment in general, from which self-identity emerges continuously time and again.  Martin Buber’s I and Thou (1970) speaks of the significant relationship between man and God, the ultimate “Thou”. Man can go through life treating all that surrounds him as “It”, as objects. A subjective relationship to life, a real dialogue between man and God is essential for a meaningful life.  Buber continues:

But, only as long as he possesses this essential act in his own life, acting and suffering, only as long as he himself enters into the relation is he free and thus creative. When a culture is no longer centred in a living and continually renewed relational process, it freezes into the It world which is broken only intermittently by the eruptive, glowing deeds of solitary spirits. (p. 103).

Beckford (1989) offers three sociological approaches to religion in advanced industrial societies. The first approach, represented by Saint Simon and Comte, followed to an extent by Durkheim, sees the role of religion as a stabilising and integrating element in society. Although religion’s role as a means of understanding the world has ceased to exist since science and technology have taken over, nevertheless society needs religion to ensure its continuity. The second approach, represented by Marx and Engels, sees religion as outdated, even obstructive. The third approach, represented by Weber, sees religion as an important cultural element, enabling groups and individuals to interpret their conditions and construct their identities.  Beckford goes on to summarise that it is worthwhile to treat religion more

…as a cultural resource or form than as a social institution. As such, it is characterised by a greater degree of flexibility and unpredictability (p. 171).

This analysis allows for changes in religion, where religion is no longer one constant that maintains social order, but is part of the changing elements in human culture. 

Bauman (1998) argues that perhaps the most important clash between modernity and religion is the issue of the source of authority. In traditional times God was the essential source of authority while in modern times Man is considered his own authority, and can achieve anything.  Religion, Bauman continues, is an admission of man’s insufficiencies, and as such it finds its place once again in the post-modern existence: science does not have all the answers, technology has its faults, and the man-made world is far from Utopia. A new form of religion emerges: fundamentalism.

It [fundamentalism] makes possible a full enjoyment of modern attractions without having to pay the price they demand. The price in question is agony of the individual condemned to self-sufficiency, self-reliance and a life of never fully satisfying and trustworthy choice. (p. 72). 

 Beyer (1994) discusses the issue of particularism as a force that may lead to inclusion or exclusion from global issues. He suggests two directions that religion may take at this time: the conservative approach, which places religion as a basis for culture and politics, and the liberal approach, which places religion within boundaries set for religious issues. In “Are We Still Jews?” Akiva Ernst Simon (1982) differentiates between Orthodox Jews, whose whole life is governed by being Jewish, and whose religiosity is manifested in their social, political, occupational as well as their family lives, and those whom he calls “Protestant Jews”, who will find ways to include themselves in global society.  While the Orthodox Jews will devote maximum energy to exclude themselves, the protestant Jews separate religious life from other facets of daily routine; Religion dominates only part of existence.  Simon, Bauman and Beyer all view religion as unchanging, perhaps even unchangeable, and the discussion of its role in our times is that of scope: will it influence an entire point of view, political, social and economic, or will it take care of a personal need, such as faith, and spirituality.

McLean (1995) opposes the post-modern attitude of basing education on global convergence alone.

Education diverges because its common values in any culture are imprinted in the minds of all participants and because teaching and learning, despite their future-oriented goals, must always draw principally from the past. (p. 172).

However, the issue of choosing the values that should be taught needs to be determined in each case, according to the cultural and moral dispositions of the society in question. This is much easier said than done, says Halstead since

Many groups within society have a legitimate claim to a stake in the educational process – parents, employers, politicians, local communities, leaders of industry and taxpayers, as well as teachers and children themselves – and within each of these groups there is a wide diversity of political, social, economic, religious, ideological and cultural values. (1996, p. 3).

Cultural continuity is achieved not only through the teaching of pluralistic values, but also through national, cultural and religious values. Preservation of different cultures is legitimised in post-modern societies where previously the melting pot ideology prevailed (James, 1995).    Recognition of school as an ideological framework is important, however we must realise this ideology is constantly subject to political pressure for change, at times contradictory pressure.

…on the one hand the new right reformers emphasize freedom, choice and the market and a curriculum directly relevant to the aspirations of the consumers of education…

On the other hand the restorationists look to a re-creation of a past condition of education…(Yates, 2000b, p.86)  

The citizenship programme in the British National Curriculum addresses the same issues, and attempts to develop citizens who are well informed and inquisitive, yet are involved and committed:

The knowledge, skills and understanding in the programmes of study identify the aspects of citizenship in which pupils make progress:

Becoming informed citizens

Developing skills of enquiry and communication

Developing skills of participation and responsible action.

Teaching should ensure that knowledge and understanding about becoming informed citizens are acquired and applied when developing skills of enquiry and communication, and participation and responsible action. (The National Curriculum for England, Citizenship, 2002, p.6)

The programme ends with a description of the attainment target for citizenship that reiterates the importance of knowledge and understanding as well as a sense of involvement and belonging.  The need to maintain enquiry and doubt and yet not reject the wish to achieve some form of solidarity is clearly a concern of the programme developers.  The values attributed to the programme may be influenced by the school ethos, and provide for the sense of solidarity desired, without imposing one specific set of particularistic values.

Citizenship should reflect, and be reflected in, the values and ethos of a school. These provide the basis for the spiritual, moral, social and cultural development of pupils…. The statement of ethos required in a school prospectus acts as a focus for the common value and purpose among the diversity of members of the school communities.  For some schools their ethos will be rooted in the religious beliefs and values associated with the origin of the school. (National Curriculum Act 2000, Initial Guidance for Schools, 2000, p. 7).

 Israel, being an immigrant community, is also part of this trend of trying to preserve national, cultural and religious identity, and yet maintain a democratic, universal and moral set of values (Oz, 1998).  This is by no means an easy task, since, as described in chapter one, the early days of Zionism were characterised by the attempt to leave behind the identity of the traditional, religious Jew and to emerge as a strong Israeli. (Beyer, 1994).

It is important to examine once again the issue of teaching values, and perhaps make an attempt to suggest ways of handling the problem identified by Elliott, of the way teachers handle value issues within a pluralist democracy. This is of great importance in any society, and is extremely complex when analysing Israeli-Jewish non-religious society. In Chapter One I have described the controversial role of Judaism in non-religious Jewish community, which rejects 2000 years of exile as weakness and advocates the New Jew, the Israeli, the Sabra. To ignore Jewish existence in exile is a rejection of most normative Judaism, Jewish Halakhic law and many customs. Yet the Sabra is a New Jew, not merely an Israeli national. Jewish history plays an important role in his/her life and the Bible is a central element in the Sabra’s world of thought and association. Hebrew language and literature constitute culture; it is saturated with historical and religious connotations. This New Jew lives in a state where marriage and divorce are in the hands of religious authorities and the holidays she celebrates, religious or national, are state holidays (Almog, 1997).

This situation, however, is only the outward layer of the New Jew’s identity, the front stage in terms introduced by Goffman.  The public facade is not to be ignored, since it is that which was selected to be at the front, and it influences back stage as well. Zionist ideology has appeared in forms close to religion over the years both before and after the Declaration of Independence. Zionism stresses those elements in Judaism, which are closely connected to nationality and sovereignty. Zionist ideology has been referred to by scholars even as a form of civil religion (Shapira, 1997; Almog, 1997; Ohana, & Wistrich, 1996). Such an ideology goes far beyond a national ideological movement. Myths and symbols are connected with sites in Israel, such as Massada or Tel Hai, where heroic deeds of the past, be it two thousand or 50 years ago, attribute holiness to the place. The non-religious Israeli finds Zionist ideology to be a replacement of sorts for religion; it is a source of identification and faith.

Zionism uses the term ‘heritage’ quite differently.  In Zionist terms it means not only the cultural, close to religious texts, practices and traditions, it also has a strong commitment to democracy and universal values. It claims the inclusion of the state of Israel as a nation among nations, meaning that it would be governed by the same rules as other nations. 

From the early years of the state the educational system has been faced with the challenge of educating children towards an identity which would be Zionist, Jewish, yet not necessarily religious, and democratic, pluralist and tolerant of ideas different from their own (Zameret, 1997). Obviously this task is much easier to achieve in theory than in a live classroom, and there have been different combinations of these values, depending on the persona involved. There have been voices arguing for more pluralist, democratic educational content and there have been those who call for an increased Zionist nationalist educational programme. Since the early days of the state the Jewish identity of the young generation has been an issue of great concern as well as discomfort. Committees have been nominated and various manners of action decided on; however this Jewish identity continues to be a major issue, non-religious youth seem to grow further and further apart from heritage.  Non-religious youth seemed to base their identity on elements other than Jewish heritage to the regret of the educational leadership of the state.  In 1973 the Institutes for Jewish-Zionist Education began work, using informal educational techniques in seminar type activity. A group of parents began the TALI school network, in 1976 which to date operates in 70 schools and 40 kindergartens, and aims at educating children to experience Jewish rituals, and to learn more about Judaism yet not neglect pluralistic-democratic values.

In 1991 the Ministry of Education appointed a commission to submit recommendations concerning the promotion of Jewish studies in state schools. The issue here was neither Jewish identity, as was the concern in 1973, nor Jewish practice, which concerned TALI parents. This commission dealt with the issue of the ignorance of Israeli schoolchildren in the field of Jewish cultural materials, and they made recommendations regarding the teaching of these materials in a pluralist, democratic way. Here, as in both other approaches previously mentioned, Judaism was not the only goal; the committee wanted co-existence between Judaism and pluralist, universal values. In 1994, the Shenhar Commission presented its recommendations to the Minister of Education, who adopted their conclusions and presented them in a document entitled "People and World - Jewish Culture in a Changing World." As in the title of the recommendations, the content presented a view of Jewish self-identity as a trajectory, as a reflexive project in which the individual builds his identity through encounters with situations and texts.  The committee suggested alternative situations, which might be presented to pupils to help them create identity as a reflexive self, drawing both from traditional Jewish texts and from western democratic traditions.  The aim was a modern Jewish identity in place of the traditional identity, which had been lost to modernity.

Following the publication of these recommendations many schools began searching for new ways of tackling Jewish subjects and values. TALI schools too felt the need for additional programmes and enriched Jewish content that would serve as a trigger for more value-oriented activity. In 1999, TALI began preparing new school programmes, aimed at introducing Jewish cultural and religious content into their network of schools. TALI’s determination to do this, without neglecting the field of thinking, is what concerns this research.

Summary:

Modernity and post-modernity have greatly affected values education; however, they do not render them unnecessary.  Education for values is necessary now more than ever in the past in face of the confusion that results from the multitude of legitimate value systems in any society.  Difficulties and tensions are encountered when attempting to educate children to pluralistic democratic values, while retaining a sense of identity drawn from belonging to a particular group, distinct from any other.  A range of these approaches have been introduced both in the field of pluralistic values and high order thinking, and in the area of particularistic values. 

Since these approaches present different schools of educational philosophy, it will be interesting to see their traces in the different teachers’ approaches to Jewish education in TALI.  This will be further discussed in the data analysis, and will be of major consideration to the methodology and methods. 

Chapter 3: Methodology and Methods:

Methodology:

This research concentrates on the question of how religious and particularistic values coexist in the educational system together with pluralistic, democratic values? There are many schools which facilitate one or other set of values, however, this thesis examines an unique attempt at combining the two: teaching children particularistic, religious values while encouraging them to exercise thought and doubt in their approaches to life. An educational approach aiming at this complex goal must accept a modern approach to tradition and religion, since democratic and universalistic values modernise the individual, while religion and tradition thrive on repetition of past rituals.

This thesis will investigate what emerges when particularistic values are introduced in a framework of universalistic values and vice versa, using two specific programmes prepared by TALI for use in schools, as well as programmes developed by teachers for their own use.  Examining and evaluating curriculum implementation is a useful manner of defining what counts as valid knowledge in a given social context, as stated by Bernstein,

Curriculum defines what counts as valid knowledge, pedagogy defines what counts as valid transmission of knowledge, and evaluation defines what counts as a valid realization of this knowledge on the part of the taught. (1973, p.363)

In the discussion of universalistic, pluralistic, perhaps multi-cultural values, educating children to apply thinking is an important factor.  It is customary to discuss thinking as a cognitive framework; however, I shall treat thinking as a value of pluralistic, universalistic civilization, a civilization which encourages and values scientific approach, critical thinking and rationality.  I shall not refer to the actual cognitive activities of the brain, but to the attitudes and dispositions towards thinking by curriculum developers, teachers and pupils.  A central focus is on the openness to doubt as a major element of education.

The term ‘thinking’ is used by TALI programme writers and management without a clear definition.  It describes various activities that promote skills such as comparison, abstraction, generalisation and other skills involving analytic techniques.  It is also used in a broader sense, to describe freedom of choice between different approaches, and making a personal statement.  This is especially apparent with regard to rituals, where thinking is regarded as the individual’s choice of practice.  The term ‘thinking’ is used by TALI for different things, and one of the tasks of this thesis is to understand what is behind the different applications of it.

It is important to clarify which types of thinking can be combined with particularistic religious values, and whether they all encourage doubt and questioning.  A discussion of critical, constructive, creative and caring ways of thinking and how they contribute to doubt, to religion, or both, will be addressed in order to understand what emerges when two sets of values are taught simultaneously.

Critical thinking, in the framework of this research, will refer to all activities that encourage pupils to analyse and judge issues. It will be important to note whether the teacher provides criteria for judgement and analysis, in which case the level of thinking required is not high and children are not expected to contribute creatively, or the pupils are allowed to form their own criteria, thus learning to use critical thinking.

Constructive thinking refers to the ability and willingness to make a conscious effort to promote a cause. It can be recognised in activities that enable pupils to suggest alternatives to traditional religious practices. Here too it will be important to note the teacher’s contribution to the process. Does the teacher suggest areas where such alternatives are legitimised, or is any alternative to tradition welcome? In what way are constructive ideas influential to the study of Jewish or universal values? Are there any practical outcomes to alternative ideas suggested, or are the alternatives theoretical?  What are the outcomes? All these questions accept the cause for this activity without question; it is merely the method that changes.

Creative thinking refers to the encouragement of pupils to express themselves in a verbal as well as a non-verbal way, regarding the issues studied. To what extent do teachers allow the expression of pupils’ views on particularistic and universal values? Are there any imposed limitations? How are non-conforming creations treated?  Is there an opportunity to create without boundaries on any topic?

Caring thinking refers to relationships within the class. How do the pupils listen and react to the ideas of their peers? How do class discussions help pupils form ideas and beliefs? Are pupils influenced by class discussions? Do they have opportunity to influence others? To what extent does the atmosphere in the classroom permit a diversity of ideas? How does this atmosphere help or hinder critical, creative or constructive thinking?  (For a detailed account of types of thinking see chapter two).

From the early stages of research, the methodology that seemed the most natural approach to examining, evaluating and improving TALI programmes, was rooted in phenomenology, based on Curtis’s features of this branch of research (Curtis, 1978, discussed in Cohen, Manion and Morrison, 2000).   Interpreting phenomena as subjective consciousness, and understanding consciousness as active, and realising the importance of reflection are at the heart of any educational research, and are undoubtedly central to value research.  The value that people attach to ideas and symbols has to do with their understanding, with their position: it is a question of hermeneutics. 

Interpretive methodology is at the core of this research, posing some serious considerations to be discussed. The problematic issue of double hermeneutics discussed by Giddens is one such consideration,

But sociology, unlike natural science, deals with a pre-interpreted world where the creation and reproduction of meaning-frames is a very condition of that which it seeks to analyse, namely human social conduct: this is why there is a double hermeneutic in the world (1976, p.158).

As Giddens indicates, there is no single interpreter describing the world, and this, of course, presents the problem of the gap between reality and the interpreter’s view of it.  Reality in the case of this research was even extremely complex.  Habermas contends that,

Processes of reaching understanding are aimed at a consensus that depends on the intersubjective recognition of validity claims; and these claims can be reciprocally raised and fundamentally criticized by participants in communication. (1981, English translation 1984, p.136).

This claim becomes far more complicated when the participants interpreted are not in total agreement with each other.  The multiplicity of interpretations on the part of curriculum developers, teachers, pupils and myself sometimes blurred observations. 

The concept of interpretation reaches its culmination here.  Interpretation is necessary where the meaning of the text cannot be immediately understood.  It is necessary wherever one is not prepared to trust what a phenomenon immediately presents to us.  The psychologist interprets in this way by not accepting the expressions of life in their intended sense but delving back into what was taking place in the unconscious.  Similarly, the historian interprets the data of tradition in order to discover the true meaning that is expressed and, at the same time, hidden in them. (Gadamer, 1960, English translation 1998, p.336).

As Gadamer claims for the psychologist and the historian, interpretation ends when the truth searched for is hidden, yet at the same time, it is expressed in texts or life expressions.  For the educational researcher the search for truth goes beyond hermeneutics as well.  The multiple points of view presented here serve to achieve an understanding of tacit elements in a curriculum before it reaches the actual actors (the teachers), and before it is used in a classroom. 

The discussion of value systems in education stems from a critical theory, which has emancipatory ideology on its agenda, and sets out not merely to describe, but to make a difference.  Critical research’s intent is not only to understand the world, but also to alter it, to emancipate the disempowered.  The organisation examined, TALI, is an ideological organisation, with a clear agenda of promoting Jewish studies and practices.  An ideological critique will

uncover the vested interests at work which may be occurring consciously or subliminally, revealing to the participants how they may be acting to perpetuate a system which keeps them either empowered or disempowered. (Geuss, cited in Cohen, Manion and Morrison, 2000, p.30)

Habermas suggests four stages in ideology critique, beginning with the understanding of a situation, a hermeneutic exercise.

A critical social science, however, will not remain satisfied with this.  It is concerned with going beyond this goal [producing nomological knowledge] to determine when theoretical statements grasp invariant regularities of social action as such and when they express ideologically frozen relations of dependence that can in principle be transformed. (Habermas, 1968, English translation 1971, p.310). 

The second stage is the attempt to give reasons and explanations to that understanding, its causes and purposes.  The third stage is the intervention, the change initiative, while the fourth stage is evaluation. 

Smith (1989, cited in Cohen, Manion and Morrison, 2000) adapted Habermas’s four stages to the field of education, and speaks of description, information, confrontation and reconstruction.  Ideological critique has a reflective, theoretical level, as well as a practical level.  This theoretical framework is the essence of action research, which is research by practitioners in action.  Given the subject, which is value education within an ideological context, ideology critique and action research is a well-suited methodology, using terminology appropriate for the examination of values, and allowing for practitioner’s involvement in research.

As a member of a team of programme developers, I had the specific responsibility of incorporating thought provoking exercises into the educational programmes.  I found my task to be at odds with other purposes of the programmes, which were to enhance Jewish education, to become acquainted with ancient Jewish texts, to become familiar with religious practices and to develop a well rounded Jewish identity, and I was interested to see what would emerge when these programmes reached the educational field.  The programmes were to be written by school teachers for the improvement of TALI education as they understood it – quite like the teachers as researchers, even as initiators as in Elliott (1991), so that action research seemed the most effective way of organising the research process.

The original cycle of research was to be relatively simple:

Reconnaissance: There is a tension between values of national or religious source, and values of a democratic or pluralistic nature.  Normative values demand adherence to a set code of behaviour, an acceptance of a source of authority external to the self.  Pluralistic-universal values advocate the self as the source of authority, and personal choice is at their core.

Action step 1: Preparation of programmes which address both sets of values, so that the stand each pupil makes in this tension is a learned one, based on knowledge, understanding and personal preference.  This may not resolve the tension but will allow a closer look at what might happen in the process.

Action step 2: Working with teachers so they become aware of these tensions, in order that they might highlight them in class.  Teachers should be aware of the tensions and of their inclinations in the matter.  Raising awareness is an important step in overcoming problems (Miles and Huberman, 1994).

Implementation of action steps.

Evaluation: Evaluating the programmes both at the teachers’ level and at the pupils’ level, using a variety of methods, such as interviews, documents as well as observations.  Following the analysis of research findings, an amended action plan would be developed, to begin cycle two of the action research. (Based on Elliott, 1991).  This was my original plan, however, in order to address the reconnaissance stage as I saw it, it was important to understand why these programmes were originally initiated, similar to Habermas’s second stage. Although their initiation was not the product of an in-depth study, I will refer to it as the TALI reconnaissance, since the programmes were an attempt by TALI management to address problems identified in the field of TALI education. 

The problem identified by the TALI education officials preceded my involvement with the programmes.  In an interview, the director of education at that time, Mr. Yossi Pnini, revealed that he found that prior to his nomination, programmes had been prepared and shipped down to schools in a top-down manner. In his words “TALI presumed it could educate the children directly, overriding the teachers.”  Pages with activities teaching the weekly portion of the Torah were sent to schools for pupils’ use, while the teachers were expected to stand aside. The teachers’ attitudes towards Jewish values were not taken into consideration, nor were they relied upon as a source of information on these topics. This, in his eyes, was wrong and could not be effective. It was his belief that programmes should be developed as an answer to needs in the field and only then would they be effective. Empowering the teachers was an essential step towards improving the education that TALI were supplying (Tripp, 1990, p.165). The teachers would be empowered when they had sufficient knowledge in hand to make it possible for them to structure their own curriculum.  Mr. Pnini wanted the teachers to make a moral commitment through their teaching, and this would happen when both their pedagogical knowledge and their knowledge of the subject matter (i.e. Jewish Studies) would increase.  It was this assumption that led Pnini to compile the programme development teams.

TALI’s approach to the programmes was ideological as far as the head of the education department was concerned.  He based his approach on his belief in the need for teachers’ involvement in curriculum.  He was aware of the fact that many TALI teachers did not feel confident of their knowledge of Jewish issues, and therefore he wished to supply materials that would be nearly ready for classroom use. The teacher still had to choose from a number of different activities and materials, and to construct a programme from suggested modules.

The teams were recruited from among teachers and pedagogical instructors of the TALI network with some outside expert advisors.  Pedagogical instructors were TALI teachers who were promoted in order to assist teachers in the teaching of TALI programmes through in-service guidance given at school. They began their work by developing one programme for each year of the elementary school.  Since TALI only had two high schools, the subjects of the programmes were all taken from the TALI syllabus. Teachers were informed of the general plan rather than consulted in various forums and workshops, and were asked to fill out questionnaires, stating their opinion of the relevance of the topics.  They were invited to suggest topics of their own choice, and most of them did, asking for more material on Jewish Holydays.  It is interesting to note that programmes designed to empower teachers gave no regard to their wishes, which were disregarded by the director of the education department and his staff, stating “there are plenty of publications dealing with the holydays.”   Teachers’ voices didn’t amount to much, which raises the question of what was meant by empowerment in the first place.  It seems that the term empowerment was used to describe training, so that if teachers would be trained to teach TALI subjects in a better way, they would be better equipped to do so independently.  What the teachers actually felt that they needed in order to be able to fulfil this requirement was not considered valuable.

What seemed to begin as an ideal speech situation as described by Habermas, where each party openly brought its agenda to the dialogue, willing both to influence and to be influenced, seemed to turn into a power relations dialogue, where decisions may be made by one side of the discussion only.  The choice of subjects made by headquarters was naturally accepted by teachers, but this did not produce the desired outcome in terms of teachers’ commitment.   Since the aim of TALI management was not only to have teachers introduce certain texts in class, but also to ensure their motivation to do so and their commitment to TALI ideology, it would be necessary to engage in dialogue with teachers. 

Agreement can indeed be objectively obtained by force; but what comes to pass manifestly through outside influence or the use of violence cannot count subjectively as agreement.  Agreement rests on common convictions.  The speech act of one person succeeds only if the other accepts the offer contained in it by taking (however implicitly) a “yes” or “no” position on a validity claim that is in principle criticisable. (Habermas 1984, original 1981, original emphasis, p. 287)

The programmes were to be directed at the teachers, as the end users, in response to the director’s belief that programmes attempting to bypass the teachers could not work.  It is especially interesting to examine the nature of dialogue between TALI and its teachers in view of his expressed belief in the need for teachers’ involvement. 

Some general ground rules were laid out by TALI management as the basis for all programme developing team, the idea was that this material would serve three purposes:

Most material in these programmes would be designed to enrich the teacher’s knowledge of the subject, and would provide the teacher with sources to broaden her Jewish education.

The material would also provide ideas and alternatives for activities in class.  The actual director of the programme was the teacher, who would make choices to suit the needs of the class. Most activities prepared would not be ready for use in the classroom, but would demand teacher's input in terms of didactics and content before use.

The third demand was that the programmes be of an interdisciplinary nature.  This was the same idea as that expressed by Elliott in reference to the curriculum reform movement.  He realised that pupils experienced much repetition when studying in a disciplinary fashion, and that integrated studies allowed a more in-depth approach, which might have more impact on pupils and their behaviour than when each subject is studied alone (Pnini, interview, February 2000). 

These were the preliminary ground rules of the programme development teams; from this point each team began its own reconnaissance stage. The first thing they did, was to collect information as to what teachers expected to find in programmes dealing with the subjects in question.  At this stage I found my task as promoter of thought provoking elements in the programme was in tension with other aims.  Examples of this were in the gender programme, which other writers felt was an opportunity to promote feminist ideology.  No allowance was made for ideas that pupils from traditional backgrounds might have had.  When I brought this forward, referring to specific elements in the programme, the answer was that the goal of this programme was ideological; one writer claimed, “I am not ashamed to stress my ideology, it’s about time we did this.”   I consulted other team members, and several meetings were held to discuss how normative values could co-exist with the freedom to question them. This became a heated issue for some teams, claiming that as an organisation with a clear vision of their pupils’ education, there was no room for questioning and doubting basic values. They did not mean that dogma would reign in all spheres of school education, only that certain issues that the team thought were essential, would be taught without encouraging doubt.  In fact, the teams seemed to have made a priority choice, placing doubt below ideology. 

The realisation that in order to influence the pupils’ identities one would have to engage in dialogue, that telling children what was to be rather than discussing issues with them would lead to no results, was ignored.  The programme writers realised they had to speak to teachers, even if this was only partially accomplished, if they wanted their programmes to have any impact.  They saw no need, however, for a dialogue with the pupils.

The pupils could be encouraged to question certain aspects, but not the entire concept being taught. A good example is found in the first grade programme discussing the pupils’ connection to prayers. The pupil is encouraged to think about the issues raised in prayers, to compare them to the customs of other cultures and even to create her own prayers, to express personal attitudes and beliefs. Nowhere in the programme is there a possibility to refuse to pray, since prayer is considered by the developers of this programme as worthy of learning.  The pupil will only be able to make a mature and learned choice to reject prayer as an adult after first learning how to pray and understanding what this means first. 

Icons were used in all programmes to mark different types of activities, such as discussions, writing, painting, musical activity and thinking.  When the prayer programme was finally issued, after a two year budget freeze, it was without an icon for thinking, implying that this programme was aimed at a transmission of practices and values, not at encouraging critical thinking or doubt.

The complex structure of the reconnaissance stage, that of TALI management on the one hand, the actual writing teams and their perceptions of the problems they were addressing, and, of course, my own perception of the problem raised by attempting two seemingly contradictory value systems, brought about different types of action plans.  The written programmes were in answer to the need identified by TALI officials, to enrich teachers so that they, in turn, could enrich their pupils.  The programme writers were in agreement with this, yet added another dimension, the ideological dimension of each specific programme. TALI officials shared the ideology, however they were not explicit about it.  This complexity already cast a shadow on the original research plan as an action research.

TALI management, as well as the teams of writers, shared my understanding of the tension between values; however, they had no problem in drawing the line in each specific case.  As an ideological organisation with a clear educational agenda a choice of values could easily be made, disregarding the expressed aims of commitment both to Jewish values and to universal or pluralistic values. Their major concerns were with Jewish education, and the use of the term ‘pluralism’ was mainly in reference to the acceptance of different forms of Jewish religious practice, such as Reform and Conservative, in addition to the accepted Orthodox faction.

An additional problem arose following a two-year period of programme writing: TALI management ran into serious financial difficulties, and the programme teams were terminated.  At that stage two programmes were already in print: ‘The First of the Month’ and the ‘He & She’ programme.  Other programmes were in their final stages; the prayer programme was planned for two years later, but the programme dealing with families in Genesis is yet to be printed. 

As a result of the budget cuts, my employment was ended together with that of the writing teams, making impractical the idea of following the evaluation stage with a new cycle of research.  This research will, therefore, combine some elements of action research, but will be rooted more deeply within the framework of ideology critique and critical theory.

Since critical theory is extremely particularistic, it is problematic and limited in its contribution to empirical research.  However, it has proved useful in curriculum analysis and development, since any curriculum is both controlled and controllable.  Tyler (1949) approaches curriculum through four questions attempting to uncover the rationale behind curriculum.  Curriculum developers, according to Tyler, must ask:  What should the school wish to attain?  What educational experiences may be provided that might assist in attaining them?  How can these experiences be organised best, and how can we know what has been attained?  Curriculum is a selection of what is deemed worth knowing, even a curriculum which is fluid and modular, allowing the teacher a choice of different modules, such as the TALI curricula.  These selections are justified by ideologies, and are neither neutral nor innocent (Habermas, 1971).  Curriculum can be used as a tool to promote emancipation and equality, or can continue to maintain the status quo. 

The Intervention Stage:  The interventions the team proposed consisted of various activities the teacher might choose from to develop.  Since the programmes were teacher oriented, it remained to be seen how teachers would react to them, what they would select and how they would choose to present them in class.

Originally, two programmes were selected to be dealt with in this context; the fourth grade programme dealing with the lunar calendar and the celebration of “Rosh Hodesh”, ‘The First of the Month’, and the sixth-seventh grade ‘He & She’ programme dealing with gender relations in the past and today.  Both programmes raise the conflict between traditional and modern approaches to issues and values, and were the first prepared and published. 

The programmes were introduced to teachers in workshops, where the teachers could sample one or two units, become acquainted with the programme, and decide whether and how they would like to use it.  Obviously, the programmes could be sent to schools without any special activities; however, the programme writers and editors felt certain that teacher exposure to the programme could save it from an eternity of dust collecting.  Prior experience caused the writers, as well as TALI headquarters; to want to monitor the way the programmes would be received and understood, before relinquishing them and allowing teachers to continue unassisted.

This research focuses on the effect these programmes have had on TALI teachers, both in terms of their readiness to encourage pupils to question and doubt, and in terms of their own sense of capability and efficacy.  A central element of these programmes is the notion of teachers’ control of curriculum, and teacher empowerment.  The extent to which this notion has been achieved is discussed hereafter.

Although the programme writers and headquarters considered the teachers to be the end users of the programmes, the target was ultimately the pupil.  It is therefore important to monitor how the value tension is comprehended by the pupils.

Two major aspects are at the centre of the programmes’ evaluation on the pupils’ level:

Does the programme promote Jewish values? Is there a change in the children’s knowledge or in their attitudes and beliefs?

Does the programme promote thinking in that it encourages, or at least allows for, doubt and questioning of Jewish values?

As stated in the introduction to this research, religious particularistic values traditionally demand normative adherence.  If the intent is to educate children to doubt and question issues, normative adherence and convention are traditionally avoided. Monitoring and analysing these TALI programmes may provide an idea of how, at this late modern stage, particularistic, even religious values may co-exist with universal values, and how clashes between them may be resolved.

No evaluation was planned alongside these programmes, which complied with all TALI projects. Until now, this 25-year-old school network has never been evaluated; its achievements remain a matter of speculation only.  This situation may be the result of a strong ideological conviction, unwilling to submit itself to criticism.  Programme evaluation is integrally intertwined with political decision-making about societal priorities, resource allocation and power (Greene, 1994, p.531).  There were several researches undertaken in the organisation, however they did not examine or evaluate TALI or its programme.  They mainly focused on the way in which a teacher’s religious education or lack of it, influenced teaching. 

Methods:

Once the programmes left the printing table and reached the schools, they needed to be studied within the context they were applied.  Methods needed to be developed to test the workings of the programme within the learning milieu: the teachers and their pupils (Parlett and Hamilton, 1987).  The methods used to collect the data needed for the evaluation of these aspects are commonly used in qualitative research, and consist of observations (both participant and external), interviews (both individual and group), audio recordings of both and documents (Silverman, 2001).  The variety of data allowed for triangulation (Elliott, 1991), assisted in supplying a more rounded picture of the examined phenomenon, exposing hidden contradictions and breaking the ‘hierarchy of credibility’ resulting from data arriving from one source only (Miles and Huberman 1994; Altrichter et al. 1993).

Participant observation took place at the teachers’ workshops held by TALI representatives. I was introduced in my role as a member of the writing team as well as a researcher, and took part in the course while monitoring and recording. It was essential that participating teachers were aware of my role from the onset, and were given the opportunity to object to my presence, or simply refuse to cooperate as part of the research group (Hacohen and Zimran, 1999).  The teachers were informed of my research intentions, and were consequently approached and requested to allow me into their classrooms to monitor the actual teaching of the programme.  We recorded the teachers’ initial reactions to the programme, as well as the questions they raised. 

The first stage of research consisted of unstructured observations of teachers’ workshops introducing the new programmes. Such workshops consisted of an introduction to a new programme through the discussion of an overview, a full-length trial of one of the activities and a session discussing the potential of such a programme. The observation took note of the participants’ comments and reactions to the programme in general and to the specific activity used.

Figure 1: Data collection: Teachers’ Workshops:

The observation itself was concerned with teachers’ reactions to the issues raised by the programme, and the attitudes and beliefs they brought to the discussions. My assumption was that those attitudes and beliefs might influence the choice of whether to teach a programme or not, as well as the actual way in which these issues are taught.

Classroom observation was carried out as an external observation. The lessons were observed and taped, to be analysed with special attention to thought provoking activity and to normative religiously oriented activity.  The classroom observation of a lesson teaching the programme was concerned with the choices made by the teacher in terms of materials selected for the lesson, and with the pupils’ responses to these materials. The lessons were recorded on audiotapes to complement the field notes taken.  Obviously, recording a lesson and transcribing it may still be biased (Silverman, 2001); therefore class handouts and assignments provided an additional data source.

It is important to note that observation occurred on a single occasion and might not present an accurate account of what normally occurred in the specific classroom. In order to avoid mistaken conclusions, two steps were taken.  The first gave an opportunity for the teacher to elucidate what she felt needed clarification following the lesson.  The second was the pupils’ group interview, which, aside from providing information on what the pupils actually gained from the programmes, also allowed pupils to speak about lessons in general, not only the one monitored.

Figure 2: Classroom observations

Two other methods were applied; the first was the open interview with the teachers who would be implementing these programmes in their classrooms, before they actually began teaching it. The purpose of the early open interview was to establish the teacher’s perception of the teaching profession and its goals, with special regard to the teacher’s view of Jewish value education and the specific programme in question.  The interview aimed at learning more about the teacher’s background and attitudes towards teaching.  Much has been said about the interview and its value as a tool for data collection, and, no doubt, the interview is influenced by the researcher, yet it is of great value in understanding the facts seen in the observations (Powney and Watts, 1987).  After some general information regarding professional history, the interview concentrated on the teacher’s perception of her professional self-image and role in TALI.  The programme itself was discussed, the teacher was asked to assess the values it presented and express a preference either for those of a pluralistic, universalistic nature or those of Jewish orientation. Teachers were encouraged to express what they believed to be good Jewish education, what was bad practice as well as what it means to be Jewish today.

Figure 3: Initial Personal Interviews:

Following the monitored lesson, the teacher was approached again and given an opportunity to comment on the lesson as well as the strengths and weaknesses of the programme.  The teacher involved could illuminate points that were left unclear at the first interview.

The most important data source was the pupils, since after all; the programmes were directed at them. Focus group interviews were held for all classes participating in the research group, to determine what they felt to be the strength of the programme and in what way they felt the programme had contributed to them.  This was, actually, the first and the only instance where pupils were asked to express their thoughts regarding their education.  Although the programmes aimed at improving the pupils thinking abilities as well as Jewish values, their opinion was not required, and the teachers were considered to be able enough to speak for them.  Although the group interview provided a platform for pupils to express their opinions, it did not constitute an genuine framework of their being heard as part of the decision making process, but as part of the research data (Fielding, 2001).  Fielding’s nine clusters of questions probing the issue of pupils’ voice(s) were not needed, since the issue of their voice played no role in the programmes.  Strangely, even my wish to speak to pupils about their reaction to the programmes as a source of data was questioned by my writing team colleagues, who failed to see why I needed to hear from pupils, and couldn’t accept what I observed in class combined with the teachers’ opinions to be sufficient evidence of the programmes’ value.  The pupils’ voice(s) was considered unimportant even as a source of data.

The group interview was held with a number of pupils soon after the end of the lesson. The interview was not only aimed at triangulation (Cohen,  Manion and Morrison, 2000), but also at determining what is achieved at the pupil level at the end of the day. The pupils’ attitudes towards the programme were the heart of the interview, however, opportunity was provided for pupils to express their attitudes towards schools, Jewish subjects, their likes and dislikes. One direct question was asked in all interviews, and was answered by each pupil individually, this was about whether they felt the programme had contributed in any way to their ideas and what they felt that contribution had been. 

The research group consisted of nine teachers in three different TALI schools.  Eight cases were followed through, from the teacher’s interview to the classroom and pupils’ group interview.  Programmes taught were divided as seen in the table.

Figure 4: Research outline:

The He & She programme was extremely popular, and schools bought the booklets and requested introductory sessions for their teachers.  The introductory sessions were aimed at familiarising teachers with the booklet contents and also raising teachers’ motivation to use the programme.  The programme dealing with the Jewish calendar and the first of the month was far less popular, and although a number of schools sat in on introductory sessions, nearly all the teachers participating ignored the programme and decided not to use it.  As indicated by the tables in figure 3 and 4, the two other programmes monitored were different in nature, since they were initiated by teachers for use in their own classes.  Although they were not part of the original research plan and were not produced as were the other programmes, they served the purpose of research, in that they portrayed the teachers’ sense of efficacy and capability on the one hand, and teacher’s attitude to values and value education on the other.  The school-initiated programmes imply a felt need for change, which is a fundamental characteristic of the reflective action discussed in Elliott (1991)

…curriculum development is not a process which occurs prior to teaching.  The development of curriculum programmes occurs through the reflective practice of teaching.  The improvement of teaching is not so much a matter of getting better at implementing an externally designed curriculum, but of developing one, whether it is self-initiated or initiated by outsiders. (p.54)

In addition to these direct research tools, a variety of documents were used both to set the background and to add to information collected through other channels.  The documents consisted of drawings and written work produced either by teachers in the initial workshops or by pupils in class, formal school documentation of educational programmes’ rationales, homework assignments, teachers’ handouts for specific lessons monitored and a variety of official TALI documents such as the programme booklets, the principles of TALI and the TALI curriculum. A combination of discourse analysis and hermeneutics is used to analyse the documents (Hitchcock and Hughes, 1995).

The research journal provided not only a source of documentation, but served as a method of analysis, since it served not only to describe but also to record initial responses to the different research data.  The process of writing the research journal was reflective, and provided of an ongoing evaluation of the programmes, marking problem areas in the programmes investigated, and questioning issues of influencing identity formation in general. 

Figure 5: Research chronological order and methods:

The issue of ethics and confidentiality also had to be considered since TALI is a relatively small organisation, and without proper care a teacher or pupil could easily be exposed.  Headteachers as well as TALI management were extremely interested in receiving interview transcripts, and even felt that this was a justified request, since they allowed me access into their schools, and were interested in improving their educational work.  The pupils’ interview was of even greater interest, and their confidentiality also had to be ensured. In the concluding interview very often the teacher expressed an interest in the issues raised by pupils, which in fact was to be expected. Teachers claimed this was not an issue involving confidentiality, but a means for teachers to improve their work, and names should therefore be made available for that purpose.  The absence of any evaluative research of TALI’s educational work may be the reason for such a strong interest in the research results.  These demands were, of course, unacceptable.

The elementary step taken was the careful choice of the scene of the interviews.  The interviewee’s right to privacy can be easily violated and this may render the participant extremely vulnerable (Cohen, Manion and Morrison, 2000).  Corridors and teachers’ lounges were a poor choice, since no privacy could be achieved there.  Wherever possible a secluded room was selected; however, not every school has suitable facilities.  In some cases a quiet corner in the school playground was selected, and in others, we used the teachers’ lounge during lessons, when the teachers were in class.

However important it was to ensure pupils’ and teachers’ privacy during the interviews, it did not prevent interest in what happened behind closed doors.  TALI management as well as headteachers were constantly asking about results.  The elementary tool ensuring confidentiality is anonymity, and all steps were taken, including the deletion of identifiers such as names, addresses, crude reporting and microaggregation of data (Frankfort-Nachmias and Nachmias, 1992, reported in Cohen, Manion and Morrison, 2000).  A compiled summary of the major issues brought up by pupils, avoiding any detail that could identify a specific pupil, actual microaggregation of the data, was provided. Any information that could endanger confidentiality was not disclosed.   Regarding teachers’ interviews, no information was revealed, since the interviews were personal, although they did not necessarily deal with private issues.  For the sake of crude reporting and deletion of identifiers this information was not disclosed.  Only crude representations of data from lesson observations regarding the most popular module choices in the teaching of the programmes, together with information which teachers explicitly stated that they wished to pass on to TALI management was disclosed.  The teachers’ requests from TALI management I refer to here are dealt with in the data exposition chapters. 

Chapter 4: TALI:  Enriched Jewish Studies. 

The TALI organisation started out as a parents’ initiative in the neighbourhood of French Hill in Jerusalem.  A group of parents, mostly of North American descent, required an educational framework to suit their moral beliefs.  They felt schools in Israel must educate children in light of foundation values such as tolerance and democracy, respect of the Other and pluralism not only because these values are important within their own right, but because they believe Judaism and the state of Israel were based upon such values (Levin, 1989).  Levin, a history professor at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem, was a member of the original group of parents who founded TALI, and served as chairman of the TALI foundation for many years.  He found it tragic that the same heritage that

…succeeded to unite and inoculate our people throughout the passing generations, has become the source of dispute and endless friction in the State of Israel of all places. (Levin, 1989, p.27).

Levin identifies two attitudes in education today. The first approach is religious and authoritative, aiming at the transfer of knowledge and values, and the second approach is the modern one, emphasising scientific thinking combined with the treatment of the child in a holistic manner. According to Levin, TALI is an attempt to combine these two attitudes.

In his article Levin discusses the six targets underlying the organisation at the stage of its initiation:

Curriculum:  Not only in terms of what is being learned, but also the method used.  TALI pupils are exposed to all disciplines of Judaica: Bible, Rabbinical Literature, Jewish History, The Prayer book, Hebrew Literature, Precepts and Jewish law, Jewish Philosophy from Maimonedes to Buber and Heschel.  These disciplines will be used combined with comparisons from surrounding cultures.  TALI’s approach stresses the common aspects of all human culture. In addition, the relevance of these subjects to our lives today is of interest in this curriculum.

The Experience: Not only cognitive analysis is important for the education of the young, not only intellect, but feeling, experiencing and internalising.  Prayer is highly important in this respect, since in the early days of the organisation it was obligatory.  Levin reasons that although prayer should be a matter of personal choice and of faith, every Jew should be familiar with the prayer book as part of Jewish creation, which continues from one generation to the next.  Doubt, he claims, is natural and even necessary.  In order to avoid ignorance, which can be an undesirable outcome of doubt, we might approach the prayer book, to comprehend faith and the answers it provides in this modern age.  Mandatory prayers is a means for the young to experience prayer, which they may reject or observe as they choose when they grow older.  Levin claims we have an obligation to allow the young generation exposure and experience, so they may be free to make choices.

Jewish Values: Morals and Society:  Knowledge taught at school should not remain theoretical but should be translated to a perception of the world.  Biblical stories imply moral lessons for behaviour in society and sensitivity to others.  These elements should be highlighted in TALI education.

Ethnic and Social Merging: TALI education aims at breaking the barriers between children from different backgrounds.  Naturally, since we are speaking of a Jewish education framework, the ethnic groups referred to are Jewish. 

Parental Involvement:  TALI calls on pupils, parents and neighbourhoods to take part in school activities.  TALI, claims Levin, cannot succeed without parental approval, backing and involvement, since all after school reinforcement depends on them.

Ideology: The pupil is required to identify with three things…:Judaism, Zionism and the modern world (p. 31). In this context Judaism would have to be open to exterior influences, including a strong commitment to the state of Israel and to democratic values.  This is a rare combination, says Levin, since most frameworks do not stress more than one focus point, two at the most. (Appendix 3)

At its onset the programme was based on the regulation that parents were allowed to influence school curricula to the extent of 25% of the entire programme.   For years this was how TALI operated, and each school interpreted the enriched contents differently.  Levin, who was an esteemed member and chairperson, provided guidelines followed by most schools, along the lines of the six targets of TALI education.  TALI, which is associated with the Conservative movement, provided a budget for the special lessons, and through this gained control of the school programme.  The most blatant example is with regard to the issue of prayer: a school could not use the TALI name, which would entitle it to a Ministry budget as well as TALI sources of funds, without conducting mandatory prayer. 

In 1991 the Ministry of Education, Culture and Sport initiated a curriculum constructing committee, for the purpose of creating a binding curriculum for all TALI classes.  This curriculum would allow the TALI system to achieve the following goals:

Plan learning in school: allocation of hours and funding, coordination with other subjects, time allotting.

Preparation of classroom materials by the educational system and by other organisations.

Preparation for assessment tools by various factors.

Teacher training and in-service training, organising teachers’ sessions. (My translation, TALI Curriculum, 1995, pp.4-5).

Levin’s article as well as the TALI curriculum make it clear that TALI in its initial stages was a highly ideological system, with a clear image of their desired graduate.  As such, it complied with a set of predetermined values that were not negotiable, and searched for a transmission programme to assist in the transfer of values to the next generation.  TALI’s aims in value transmission as stated in the curriculum included respect to Jewish heritage, tolerance towards different Jewish traditions, experiencing rituals and taking an active role in the organisation and implementation of everyday Jewish life and calendar activities.  Prayer was no longer specifically mentioned as a compulsory part of the programme.  The committee suggested a six-hour weekly minimum for Jewish studies, although it did not state how or when funding for these lessons will be found.

Today, TALI schools finance these extra lessons from three sources: the Ministry of Education allocates schools funds, and in TALI schools some of these funds are transferred from other lessons to Jewish Studies at the head teacher’s discretion.  Another source is the TALI Education Fund, which allocates two lessons a week for every TALI class.  The TALI Education Fund is located in the offices of the Schechter Institute, an institute of the Conservative movement in Israel, and its location is in itself a statement of affiliation.  A third source of funds is parental financing. 

In my discussion of the context of Israeli society I mentioned the limited role of religious groups other than the ultra orthodox and the Zionist orthodox communities.  The accepted consensus in Israel is that religion is an orthodox issue.  Many non-religious Israelis choose to celebrate their son’s Bar Mitzvah in an orthodox synagogue, since this is the accepted form of religion.  It is enhanced by coalition agreements from the early days of the state, which left all matters of marriage and burial in the hands of orthodox organisations.

This is not, however, the case for world Jewry, especially in English speaking countries, where following the enlightenment in Europe, reforms in religion started taking place.  Today there are large Reform and Conservative communities in the USA, Canada, U.K. and in other English speaking communities such as Australia.  When these people immigrated they brought their methods of worship with them (Weiss-Goldman, n.d., p.51).  In Jerusalem today The Hebrew Union College trains reform rabbis, Schechter Institute, among other functions, trains Conservative rabbis.  Both these movements are not recognised by the orthodox (synonymous with religious in Israel) establishment.  In spite of TALI having, at least originally, a religious educational approach, it found its place among State schools.  Nowadays, although TALI headquarters are situated in the Conservative Schechter Institute, there are also reform oriented TALI schools.

TALI in 2003 is not the organisation it started out to be, and many member schools have different attitudes and goals. Although it is still affiliated with the Conservative movement it would be incorrect to assume that all TALI schools share the movement’s values. Enriched Jewish Studies mean very different things to each school. Some schools see this as an opportunity to teach more Hebrew literature or Bible, not as a means of introducing children to religious ritual content. A number of general schools chose the TALI network mainly in order to avoid the national integrative school policy. They have no objection to teaching Jewish subjects; yet have little interest in educating children to observe Jewish traditions and rituals.

An issue that must be addressed in this research is clearly that of the desired identity of the school graduate in the TALI network. The different attitudes towards TALI education within the network undoubtedly influence many aspects of research; however the image of the desired graduate derives from the TALI’s principles as published by the headquarters of the organisation.

The Principles of TALI Education (Appendix 4).

* To facilitate greater knowledge in major areas of Jewish studies: Bible, Rabbinic Literature, Jewish History, Jewish Thought, Prayer and Hebrew Literature.

The principles of TALI education form the ideological basis for the educational activities within the school. The teaching of Jewish topics must include: the designation of a significant number of hours in Jewish studies over and above those allotted for the general school system, as well as accompanying pedagogic supervision from outside the school.
* To develop through Jewish studies awareness among pupils and their parents of the tradition and origins of the Jewish people. The principles of the TALI Education fund specify how this is to be achieved:

1. Joint activities for parents and students relating to Jewish values and the celebration of Holidays;

2. Institution of parent study groups to include the following kinds of topics: parent-child communication; bible study; analysis of rabbinic concepts; examination of medieval literature; tackling contemporary challenges in the areas of religion and state;

3. Preparing for Bar/Bat Mitzvah: Theory and Practice.

4. Institution of student activities focusing on Jewish Studies (beyond the formal hours of the TALI curriculum).
* To enrich the cognitive learning in the school through a variety of experiential and behavioural Jewish educational approaches, emphasizing traditional practices, prayer, and observance of Shabbat and Holidays.

This can be achieved through “Establishing the following types of activities: assemblies; prayer services; experiencing Kabbalat Shabbat; a Rosh Chodesh celebration; a "Seder" for Tu Bshvat; a Megillah reading; a model Pesach Seder;  Holocaust Day commemoration; Independence Day ceremony; and the celebration of Bar and Bat Mitzvah (either celebrated collectively or coordinated on an individual basis).”

* To develop value-oriented educational activities drawing from Jewish culture and classical texts.
* To create a special Jewish atmosphere within the school.

1. Setting up of appropriate decorations in the school and in the classroom.

2. Rotation of displays based on the Jewish calendar;

3. Development of value-oriented study units drawing on sources which focus on proper speech, mutual respect between individuals, refraining from verbal abuse and physical violence
* To foster respect for the values and symbols of Judaism.

1. Fostering of appropriate behaviour during school ceremonies.

2. Emphasis on appropriate dress to include head covering during communal activities such as worship, weddings, funerals, festive meals.

3. Appropriate gestures of respect towards sacred places (synagogues,
cemeteries).
* To nurture the interactions between school, family and community. 
 The centrality accorded to family and community within Jewish culture necessitates the participation of parents in promoting the school, in determining policy and in helping with instruction in the school. Moreover, it is recommended that education towards Jewish values be accomplished by integrating a communal service component into the school curriculum, through activities such as: volunteer programs in the community (either on a one-time or ongoing basis), visits to old-age homes, adoption of senior citizens living alone, visits to hospitals, participating in the mitzvah of sending portions of food on Purim, assisting immigrants, taking up tzedakah (charity) collections for the needy, helping children who need extra tutorials, etc. in learning and teaching music. Workshops are available to train teachers and to ensure active use of the sheet music as part of an integrated music program.

It is interesting that although TALI is defined as an organisation attempting to enrich Jewish studies in non-religious schools, and these studies are declared to be a matter of culture by all associated with it, be it a teacher, parent or pupil, the principles presented discuss practically nothing other than religion.  A desired graduate of TALI would probably be described primarily as having a Jewish identity, and the organisation is extremely clear about the content of this identity.  The concept of identity is closely connected with politics and nationalism, as is the case in the USA and Europe (Yates, 2000), and Israel’s unique predicament emphasises this to an even greater extent and, at least with regard to the TALI organisation, religion plays an important role.

One way TALI ensured its principles were carried out by schools, was through the material sent to schools.  The weekly portions of the Torah were already prepared with activities suitable for school children, stressing values that coincided with TALI principles and values.  Such activities were well received in schools, but, as stated in the previous chapter, Mr.Yossi Pnini, the director of TALI education department, stated this was not the right way to promote ideology, and that in the long run, it could not work.  In spite of Pnini’s criticism of these programmes, they were widely accepted.

The programmes were assigned to different age groups although teachers could use them for groups other than those designated.  The prayer programme was assigned to the first grade of elementary school.  The teams’ coordinator, Ms. Rotkovitz stated that although TALI no longer obliged schools to actually conduct compulsory prayers, it was the TALI headquarters belief that every possible effort should be made to achieve this goal.  Providing teachers with a programme that would assist them to teach prayers might facilitate this. The prayer programme itself states its goals to be:

Nurturing positive attitudes towards the prayer experience, to the content of prayers in general and specifically those prayers taught.

Through prayer to contend with issues teachers and pupils are troubled with.

To acquaint pupils and teachers with different Jewish customs and prayer versions.

To enable and encourage personal interpretation of prayers.

To turn prayer into a positive class and social experience.

 To highlight the role of prayer in preserving the unity of the Jewish people.

To become acquainted with select prayers: differentiate between prayer types and understand their content on an emotional, linguistic and ideological level.

To get to know different melodies for prayers, representative of different ethnic background and sects. (My translation, Chelnov et. al, 2002, p.4).

As opposed to the two programmes selected for the purpose of this research, the prayer programme has no claim to the encouragement of thinking, or any other universalistic value.  The pluralism referred to in several sections remains within Judaism, in the acceptance of Reform, Conservative and Orthodox prayer styles.  Since the prayer programme was originally aimed at the first grade of school, when pupils are only in the early stages of literacy acquisition, even suggested classroom activities are discussed rather than demonstrated.  For these reasons the prayer programme, as designed by TALI management, is not examined here, although some individual school and teacher approaches to prayer are dealt with.

This programme as well as the He & She and The First of the Month programmes were initiated with no evaluation programme attached.  There were feedback questionnaires attached to the first print edition, but no provisions were made for their return, and in fact, very few of them were sent back.  According to recent publications in the TALI website:

The TALI executive staff is currently creating a strategic development plan to meet demand, which includes the creation of specific criteria for the initiation of services and evaluation of current TALI intervention. (http://www.schechter.edu/tali/tali.htm  August 4^th 2002).

The need for evaluative measures is continuously growing, since even TALI headquarters are beginning to question the effectiveness of their educational programmes.  Following twenty-five years of TALI education the organisation should know where its weaknesses and strengths lie; however, TALI’s plans for evaluation are still at a preliminary stage. 

In addition to programmes created by TALI headquarters staff there are additional attempts by individual school teams to prepare their own materials.  These initiatives result from teacher-felt needs, from parental involvement and many other reasons.  Two of these programmes are dealt with here, however, there are many different approaches to Jewish education, and these programmes do not represent TALI policy.  Some school initiatives have become well-rounded curricula, while others are one-time attempts.   The programmes I discuss here have become permanent features in the school’s timetable.  Neither of them has ever been evaluated.

Chapter 5: The He & She Programme

The first stage of research consisted of unstructured observations of teachers’ workshops introducing the He & She and The First of the Month.  These workshops included an introduction to a new programme through discussion of an overview, and an in-depth trial of one of the activities.  The observations took note of participants’ comments and reactions to the programme in general and to the specific activity used. 

Figure 6: He & She teachers’ workshops:

The He & She programme, aimed at discussing gender issues in the Jewish tradition.  An example of such an activity is the discussion about the different approaches to the creation of woman as depicted in Genesis 1 and 2:

26 Then God said, "Let us make man in our image, after our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth."

27  So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them.  

28 And God blessed them, and God said to them, "Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth."

29 And God said, "Behold, I have given you every plant yielding seed which is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree with seed in its fruit; you shall have them for food. 

30 And to every beast of the earth, and to every bird of the air, and to everything that creeps on the earth, everything that has the breath of life, I have given every green plant for food." And it was so. 

31 And God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good.  And there was evening and there was morning, a sixth day.

Verse 27 in Genesis has been interpreted by commentators, especially modern ones, as proof of initial equality between man and woman.  However, Genesis 2 tells another story:

18 Then the LORD God said, "It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for him."

19 So out of the ground the LORD God formed every beast of the field and every bird of the air, and brought them to the man to see what he would call them; and whatever the man called every living creature, that was its name. 

20 The man gave names to all cattle, and to the birds of the air, and to every beast of the field; but for the man there was not found a helper fit for him. 

21 So the LORD God caused a deep sleep to fall upon the man, and while he slept took one of his ribs and closed up its place with flesh;

22 and the rib which the LORD God had taken from the man he made into a woman and brought her to the man. 

23 Then the man said, "This at last is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called Woman, because she was taken out of Man."

Genesis 2 places woman as a helper, with no actual task of her own, created from man.  One of the He & She programme initial activities deals with these two sources.  The teachers compared them and tried to come to terms with the differences between texts, considering the values conveyed by each text. 

Yona’s case

Yona is a 6^th grade teacher in a Jerusalem TALI school.  He was the first teacher who consented to take part in the research.  Upon hearing of the He & She programme he immediately implemented it in his classroom.  In his own words:

Things like this programme interest me.  Showing the subject of differences between the genders in Judaism.  Showing current events through Judaism.  Showing the issue of Rabin’s murder, how Judaism treats it, because it is conceived by society as something religious, and this is not true, and I want to bring the Jewish sources that show otherwise.  To show Man in Judaism.  

Yona continued to discuss his views on Humanism throughout the interview, making clear that he understood teaching Judaism was another way of teaching democratic values.  He rejected any connection between Judaism and nationalistic views.  In answer to a question, he said that his statements regarding Judaism stem, in part, from his political convictions.  He refused to equate Judaism with the right wing settlers’ view of Jewish existence, and stressed that man is the centre of his interest.  He wished to take Judaism away from “…something to do with territories, seizing, something of power and capturing…something very violent and aggressive…” and wanted to teach it from other perspectives.  According to him, the purpose of teaching Jewish texts is to promote universalistic values, not particularistic ones.

He deplored the fact that an aggressive point of view was encouraged in other teachers’ Bible lessons, where children learn of God’s command to completely annihilate enemies, leaving no trace of their existence. 

…the children meet something that is harsh, strict and violent.  The conquest of the land is extremely strong in the Bible.  Now, I understand that we must take the period into consideration, but we talk about it.  This is TALI, the Bible is a part of it and we may choose the interpretation of it.  

He finds that TALI enables him to contest the text, and find pluralistic points of view in it.  It was important for him to stress what he called “Secular Judaism”, as the best way to introduce Jewish values to children.  His view of TALI has little connection to religion and he understands his role as teacher as someone who introduces a secular Jewish point of view.  Yet, when asked what Judaism was if not a religion, he answered:

It [Judaism] isn’t Nationalism, because you can be a Jew in another place, like the U.S.A.  Judaism is Man.  I feel I personally have to keep some things that are Judaism, although I am secular, and I argue a lot with my family, but I will not eat non-kosher food.  Yet I am secular.  But I feel you need to have some uniqueness from Christians and Moslems.  It is important to me that candles are lit for Shabbat.  I mean some sort of tradition.  I think Judaism is the past, something to do with identity, with the past, but not as a Land, more as a State… It is a political statement.  The land of Israel leaves no room for compromise, and compromise is needed.

Answering the question: What does it mean to teach Judaism, what should be done in class, Yona spoke about the Holydays and programmes such as He & She.  As a secular Jew, by his own definition, he chooses to observe rituals, yet those rituals are not a part of his educational agenda. 

Prayers? No.  I don’t think we come here…they’re secular children, their parents mostly, I don’t know if all of them, are afraid of that.  But the parents want them to get to know the tradition, that’s the correct definition of what the parents want.  But not that they will start to pray.  The parents are not observant, praying parents…I think, knowing them; I too wouldn’t want this [prayers] to happen.

Yona took part in the research during his second year in a TALI school, and, being a graduate of the Israeli state school system, he felt that his pupils were privileged to have the kind of education he had missed.  He relied on guidance from TALI as well as the school staff regarding teaching materials, and enjoyed the opportunity to expand his knowledge of these issues. 

Yona’s class was a sixth grade class of thirty two pupils aged 12-13, about half boys and half girls, seated in five groups of six pupils.  The children were all from the same new neighbourhood, in north Jerusalem.  The lesson monitored was a double period, and dealt with a summary of the two stories of creation in Genesis, and then he continued with Mishnah Ketuboth, dealing with “tasks the wife performs for her husband.”  

The lesson began with a twenty-minute discussion between teacher and pupils regarding the two stories of creation, mainly regarding the roles of man and woman in this context.  The pattern of teacher-pupil reaction-teacher (Altrichter et al., 1993) was an obvious structure of this part of the lesson. 

Yona: Before we begin our new subject let us summarise the comparison between the two chapters in Genesis.  I started doing it last time but we didn’t finish.  We have two headings: Total Equality as opposed to…

Pupil: Inequality

Yona: It wasn’t exactly inequality.  What did we call it? Genesis 1 was complete equality and what was Genesis 2?

(Quiet in the classroom.  No reaction.)

Yona: Try looking in the texts.

(Quiet.)

Yona: We spoke about “a compatible helper.”  We said it could mean all sorts of things.  

Pupil: To amuse man.

Yona: We said a whole lot of things, amusement is a kind of help, it is one of them.  That is all you took with you from the lesson?

Pupil: To encourage him, to assist…

Yona: To assist, to encourage, to help.  We can group these and say that they all mean the husband is central and she comes to his aid.  I want the other things we said.

Pupil: She helps him.

Yona: What do you mean, she’s his assistant.  Are they equal? 

Pupil: She helps him because he can’t manage on his own.  

Yona: So they are…

Pupil: Equal.

Yona: Equal, equality.

Yona led the discussion on until he was satisfied with the answer.  Altrichter et al.  argue that 

First, it means that the teacher controls the way in which pupils respond to the subject matter.  The most important control mechanisms are the questions the pupils are asked and the comments on their answers…the teacher’s aim is to get the students to come up with ideas that fit his own thinking. (Altrichter et al., 1993, p.42). 

In this part of the lesson there was no evidence of constructive thinking, creative thinking or caring thinking.  The analytical, critical thinking in this particular part of the lesson was only done by the teacher, not the pupils.  The pupils were busy guessing what they should think. 

Finally the comparison was completed on the blackboard, and the problematic issue of the ancient Mishnah text was introduced and dealt with in terms of reading comprehension.  This particular part of the He & She programme had been deliberately left out by many other teachers, since they found it offensive.  During the teacher workshop introducing the programme to the school staff, Yona and his colleague Rina, who teaches the same age group, disagreed on this issue.  She claimed it would be counter-productive to use it in class since it encouraged sexist views.  Yona said he saw no reason to avoid using it since he thought that the pupils would benefit from criticising the text. In fact, both of them agreed the Mishnah was offensive; they disagreed on the outcome of teaching it.

At the preparatory stage, the team of writers debated whether to have the Mishnah in the programme.  We finally decided on its inclusion as it is the least offensive of writings of that ancient time, and we considered it wrong to disregard such a significant branch of Jewish writings just because its ideology is unacceptable to early 21^st century minds.  Obviously feminist views did not exist in those days, and women were generally not discussed in the Mishnah.  Often women were mentioned in a derogatory fashion, giving justifications for divorce, portraying them as tending towards sin, weak and lacking in faith, and even associating them with witchcraft.  The Mishnah assumes the woman is of independent means, and may be interpreted as encouraging creativity in women, since the only task it considers must not be done by another woman, is working with wool.  An additional reason for its inclusion was to expose teachers to the Mishnah; even those who chose to exclude it.  The programme was written for teachers, offering ideas to be used or disregarded.  A text such as this would enrich the teachers’ familiarity with Jewish texts, and TALI headquarters felt teachers were not familiar enough with Jewish texts, and therefore avoided using them in class. 

Mishnah Ketubot, chapter 5, mishnah 5

These are the tasks that the wife performs for her husband: she grinds, and bakes, and launders; cooks, and nurses her child; she makes his bed, and works in wool.  If she brought him one bondwoman – she need not grind, or bake, or launder; two – she need neither cook nor nurse her child; three – she need not make his bed, nor work in wool; four – she sits in a soft seat.
Rabbi Eliezer says, even if she brought him one hundred bondwomen, he compels her to work in wool, for idleness leads to unchaste behaviour.  Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel says, Even if one prohibits his wife by vow from doing work – he must divorce her and give her her ketubah, for idleness leads to dullness.

This part of the lesson was group work, and pupils were asked to identify the problem that faced the rabbis when discussing these issues.  They had to decide with whose opinion they agreed, and what other ways they could think of for women to avoid boredom and idleness.  The pupils worked in groups of six to eight, and this lesson provided an opportunity to exercise caring thinking, which was a genuine attempt to develop a degree of empathy with others.  The assignment invited the pupils to empathise with what troubled wise men in ancient times.  The pupils’ answers to these questions showed minimal empathy.  They found it difficult to go beyond the superficial level of understanding the text.  Most of them rephrased the first line of the Mishnah to form a question, and stated, “The problem addressed by this text is what tasks must a wife perform for her husband.”  Although it seemed to be a good opportunity for genuine caring thinking, this did not happen. 

The question requesting the pupils’ opinions on dealing with dullness and boredom brought about some constructive thinking.  Constructive thinking requires an effort to try and improve on information in front of you, rather than judge the information or test it for validity.  The pupils suggested some alternative activities, although these stemmed mainly from the tasks in the text.

Twenty minutes later, the class returned to the pattern of teacher questions, pupil answers.  When an answer Yona considered good arrived too early in the discussion, he promised to get back to the pupil later on:

Yona: What question does the Mishnah deal with?

Pupil: Does the wife have to serve the husband or does the husband have to serve the wife?

Yona: How does the Mishnah answer this? Where do you see an answer to whether the wife should serve the husband?

Pupil: There are several answers here, and there’s one who answers that the wife should serve and the other that they are equal.

Yona: But where do you see that the wife should serve? Where do you see this? Give me examples.

Pupil: Tasks a wife performs for her husband.

Yona: OK, Timeout.  I see Shiri is going in a direction most of you didn’t go, We’ll get back to you later.  What else did you see here?

Later on in the lesson it became apparent that the reason for not dealing with this pupil’s response was that, in Yona’s view, Shiri understood the Mishnah better than the rest of the class.  It goes without saying that although Shiri’s approach is a valid one, it is not the only possible approach to the Mishnah.  It is only one of a number of critical approaches possible.  Yona could have decided to concentrate on the implications of boredom and dullness, he could have introduced the question of how the wife came to be of independent financial means in those days, and maintained her financial independence even after her marriage.  After checking other groups’ work, Yona returned to Shiri.

Yona: Back to Shiri.  Shiri, what is your problem?

Shiri: I think the wife doesn’t have to serve.

Yona: What do you mean? What are the things she should do?

Shiri:I think that husband and wife are two; there are no specific tasks for the wife or the husband.

Yona: Shiri says all the Mishnah says is the wife’s task is actually the task of the husband as well.

The atmosphere in class became heated.  “It is amazing how intolerant a tolerant point of view can be.  Yona was clearly angry and disappointed with his pupils.” (Research Journal, 12.3.01).  The pupils sensed Yona’s disappointment with their answers, and they seemed to try to appease him.

Pupils started commenting.  Some said their fathers did this or that in the house, some said their grandfathers did this or that.  

Yona: So how come you never said ‘My father does this’, ‘My grandfather does that’?

Pupil: But I said…

Yona: NOW you say.  But when I asked you, you didn’t see any other problem.  The entire class except for Shiri accepts …(Yona raises his voice, nearly shouting).

Many voices: No, no…

Pupil: not true!

Yona: You didn’t say anything! The problem, [you said is] what causes idleness, what happens when you are idle?

The class became quiet for a while; the discussion came to a halt.  It then became clear to all that a feminist point of view was what they were expected to present.  The remainder of the lesson went back to the question-answer format, reminding the pupils of feminist Biblical figures.

Yona: We’ve seen an example of a feminine profession, a slave, who was a little like a maid.  Which other professions do we see in the Bible? Do you remember, we have just studied in Kings …

Pupil: Yes! The woman from Shunem!

Yona: Well, Barak now sees that women had jobs even in Biblical times.   Yes, she was big, rich and in charge.  What else?

All together:…She had no children…She is dominant… She does everything at home…We hardly see her husband…She had all the power…

Yona: Yes, she is strong, she takes initiative.  Why? What does she want?…

Yona: What else did women do in ancient times?

Pupils: Clean the house, care for children.  

Yona: Yes, fine, that is in the house.  What about out of the house? Was there any famous woman?

Pupils (some together): Deborah, Shlomzion, Atalya…Rahab…

Yona: That’s right, Shlomzion, Atalya

Pupil: Yes, but Rahab’s occupation…

The He & She programme takes into account pluralism, Jewish values and feminism.  It tries to walk a fine line without making choices for the teacher.  In this case neither pluralistic nor Jewish values found their place in this lesson, and although, obviously, one cannot learn about a complete programme from an individual instance, the neglect of these values is so total, it is impossible to ignore.  It was a surprise to find that even though the lesson used Jewish canonised texts such as the Torah and the Mishnah, there was no discussion of Jewish issues, such as the role of women and men in Jewish life.

Feminist issues were addressed in the greater part of the lesson, to the extent that pupils talked about this issue in the group interview.  In response to my question whether the pupils felt that their opinions about issues discussed in the programme had changed in any way, girls tended to say they hadn’t changed their minds, only they felt surer of their opinions.  Boys, however, said

Boy 1: Before we discussed this I thought girls couldn’t do anything.  That they have chores and it’s easy.  Now I see girls do a lot more.  Laundry and such… I think girls have capabilities.

Boy 2: I used to say ‘all these girls’.  I don’t generalise so much now.

The pupils showed a strong tendency to try and please the interviewer, just as they had tried to please their teacher.  Sensing this in their answers, I asked them whether feminism could be taught without using Jewish texts in order to test this.  The unanimous negative reply made clear their answers were aimed at guessing what was required of them.  Only after I told them this did one pupil say she felt it could be taught apart from Jewish studies, since feminist issues were something that troubled women around the world.  They all claimed that studying Judaism was important, because:  “That’s where it all started.”   Another pupil said: “We aren’t experts.  There’s Judaism and there’s, well…a little less.  We need to get into our Judaism, learn about it, about our religion, our past.” When asked whether they liked learning Judaism, most of them said they did not, two pupils said that sometimes they liked the lessons.  Two pupils volunteered to say what they disliked:

It is sometimes boring to know about things you should do but you don’t do.  It’s like all talk, but doing nothing.  We talk about Jewish laws, we talk about prayers, we only talk.

In answer to a question whether they would like to put into practice some of the rituals they learn, the pupils were not unanimous.  It is, however, interesting that some of them would like the opportunity to practice rituals, although, as Yona had mentioned, they were from secular backgrounds.  On one issue, however, they all agreed; they enjoyed studying the He & She programme.

Rina’s case     

Rina is Yona’s colleague, she teaches the second sixth grade class in this Jerusalem TALI School.  This was her 6th year as a teacher in a TALI school, and she only taught for a year and a half prior to this, so that most of her teaching career has been within TALI.  At the teachers’ session she quickly expressed a special interest in this programme.  She showed an interest in texts containing ideas that coincided with feminist ideology.  She rejected the excerpt from the Mishnah right away, stating that it would be controversial and would create a negative attitude towards Judaism. 

We agreed on a very early interview, since Rina was about to begin teaching the texts the following month.  The interview took place at school; in a quiet room, and for quite some time Rina spoke undisturbed about her teaching career, about her attitude to the teaching of mathematics, a subject very dear to her, and about value education.  When asked what she felt a Jewish pupil should be taught in school, she spoke of traditions, customs, texts and different interpretations of these texts.  When speaking of what she wished her pupils would take with them into adulthood, she spoke of values such as “love thy neighbour.”  She would like tolerance to be part of their lives, yet felt it difficult to find support for this attitude in Jewish writings and traditions.  The subject of gender equality, she felt was also difficult to find in Jewish writings, yet she felt it was important to try and find such texts, so that Jewish heritage could play a role in teaching the pupils, and in this way she believed she could have an impact on the pupils’ identity.

 Rina showed considerable interest in teaching the He & She programme.  She spoke of her feeling that this would answer her need to teach values within a Jewish context.  This seemed to be extremely important to her, as she expressed it in terms of Durkheim’s description of socialization (1956):

 They live here and they have to fit in here.  I suppose these things are important to learn as a human being, but I want them [the children] to fit in here, in this culture.

Rina stressed that it is not merely the country in which the pupils live that matters, but the culture.  She wanted to teach them about Jewish Holydays.  She looked for Jewish sources for universal values as a means to strengthen the pupils’ Jewish identity, and when questioned about her attitude towards mandatory prayer lessons in school, she was quiet for quite a long time before presenting a very strong negative opinion:

I am extremely concerned.  Because prayer as I see it… I come from a very religious home and I lead a semi-religious life.  I know what it’s like to be forced, especially to pray.  It becomes something hated.  I wouldn’t like to make them.  They won’t feel anything towards it…It would be like…praying for experiencing.  That it won’t be like a punishment, another one of the school punishments, it would plant the seed of something negative, that prayer is negative…I feel very strongly against school prayer every day.  If there were [mandatory prayers] I would get up and leave…I also find fault in the fact that prayers are something constant and repetitive.  It should be from the heart, something you do when you want to say what you feel, what’s on your mind. 

Rina explained that she planned to teach prayer as a literary text, not as a religious ritual, so that the pupils would become familiar with the text. 

The lessons were supposed to take place during March.  They were then postponed until after the Passover Holydays, since Rina said she had to finish a programme she was teaching on making choices, which was important to her pupils who were getting ready for Junior High school.  This programme was her own initiative.  The pupils had the opportunity to air their expectations from Junior High school.  They later visited the regional school and met the pupils there.  Thus, the pupils knew more about their new school and their anxieties were relieved.  She said that although she liked the gender programme, we had arrived with it at the end of the year when her programme was already planned out.  In actual fact our arrival with the TALI programme was in January, nowhere near the end of the year. 

The programme was never taught.  Following Passover a two and a half week parents’ strike began, in Rina’s words this was “…extremely dramatic at the end of the 6^th grade.  We lost three Fridays and that is a lot” (The homeroom teacher’s lesson takes place on Friday, it is a more flexible lesson where the teacher can very often decide on her own syllabus).  A parents’ strike is not an uncommon way of applying pressure on Ministry officials and Municipality executives, for the benefit of the school.  The parents keep their children at home for the duration of the strike for a variety of reasons, beginning with school safety conditions, location of the schools, for or against integration and bussing, academic level and even the nomination of teachers and headteachers.  This strike was to reject the Mayor’s plan to move the school to another building on the edge of the neighbourhood.  Rina had no time for her class to discuss gender issues in Jewish life.  The graduation ceremony had to be planned and also, Rina was concerned about the number of missed math lessons, and said her pupils would be poorly prepared for Junior High school. 

I mentioned to Rina that her colleague had actually taught the programme, and had chosen to do so in literacy lessons.  I was reluctant to remind Rina of this, since she seemed to disagree with Yona on everything; yet I felt that asking for her point of view on this issue would contribute to my understanding of her motives.  I attempted to ask the questions in a non-judgemental way.  Rina’s defensive answer made it clear that she felt judged.  She told me that TALI had arrived with this programme too late, her year was planned out, the texts for literacy lessons had been decided on, and she was not the kind of teacher who changes her plans from one day to the next.  Had we come out with the programme at the beginning of the year she might have been able to show some flexibility. 

She invited me to call on her the following year, when she would be teaching the 5^th grade.  She said she might include the programme in the literacy class so that she could use it in more than one lesson a week, and so “get it over with quickly and get on to other issues,” however when I called her early in the school year she said her pupils were too young to handle the programme. 

There seems to be a contradiction between the declarative level and the extreme commitment both to the issue of Jewish education and to the issue of feminism and gender issues on the one hand, and the actual rejection of a programme aimed at dealing with these issues on the other hand.  When Rina had to make time for issues she held close to her heart, she chose other values, such as addressing academic issues or dealing with the individual well-being of her pupils by helping them cope with anxieties.  She considered this her responsibility, her duty to her pupils was to prepare them for the transfer, and this could not be postponed.  Had she incorporated the programme the following year this may have been acceptable, however, by putting it off once again Rina made quite clear that teaching the He & She programme was not a simple task for her.  She mentioned many drawbacks: time, age of pupils, content (e.g. when she first encountered the programme, she claimed that the Mishnah was too controversial).  Although Rina had declared the values addressed by this programme to be important, they seemed to be less important than values such as individual success.

Orit’s Case:

Orit is headteacher of a primary school in North Tel Aviv, and has held this position for 14 years.  During this time the school joined TALI.  The decision to join the network was initiated by TALI, not by the parents or teachers.  According to Orit, after adding Jewish studies to the school curriculum she was approached by the TALI inspector, who invited her to join that organisation in 1991.  He told her that since the subjects were already being taught in her school, she could enjoy additional hours funded by TALI.  Extra teaching hours, or rather the budget for them, would increase her ability to influence the curriculum and add subjects far beyond the compulsory core curriculum in the Israeli state school system. 

In its early stages the school taught an introduction to the prayer book as well as oral law, and since then the Jewish studies programme has developed.  Children learn the weekly portion of the Torah, they study the Jewish calendar in depth, and prepare special Holyday ceremonies.  A unique addition this school has made is a programme developed by the staff to teach the subject of cultures.  Each age group has two lessons a week studying a different culture.  The cultures studied are Japanese, Arab, American and Jewish.  In addition, the children have a class called Language and Culture, taught by two teachers together.  In this class it is the connection between language and culture that is the main issue.  Between the two teachers there must be a good command of English, Hebrew and Arabic.  During the lessons the pupils learn issues from three different cultures, which involve language skills in Hebrew, English and Arabic.  This programme will be dealt with later in the thesis and is introduced here to set the background to Orit’s work as headteacher. 

Orit’s background as a teacher consists of counselling experience, and the subjects she teaches are Jewish studies, an area about which she feels strongly.  She is not easy to interview, since her answers are extremely concise and a great deal of coaxing is required, yet when asked why she thinks Jewish studies should be taught she lights up, nearly shouting:

It’s important!  These are your roots! What do you mean, why is it important? It’s you! This is your country!

Many times in the interview Orit emphasises the connection between Jewish studies and Zionist values.  The issue of a Jewish identity is important to her, and is closely knit with the country.  Jewish identity, however, has little to do with religious practice in her school.  When asked whether she would like to go beyond just talking about prayer and perhaps even to teach the melody, but to have authentic school prayers, she rejects the idea completely.  The school is located in a very secular neighbourhood, and prayers in school would not be tolerated by the parents.  It was hard for her even to consider the subject and examine what she personally would like, even if this were impossible, however she finally stated that she would like an opportunity to actually practice prayer in school, and she felt it would make prayers more relevant.  The pupils would need to know prayers in order to use them, not only for the sake of knowledge itself.

Although Orit was present in the teachers’ training session dealing with the programme, she had already begun teaching it earlier, since she had been given a preliminary copy.  She liked the He & She programme immediately, since she felt it enabled her to introduce feminist issues into the classroom.  She did not take an active part in the session, but immediately suggested that I should come and see a lesson in her class. 

The programme, she said, addressed a need for more gender correct material, and provided an opportunity for children to deal with real topics that have a genuine relevance to their lives.  Even though the He & She programme was written for modular use, she had taught it in the order of the published chapters, skipping only the Mishnah dealing with tasks a wife must perform for her husband.  This, she felt, would create unnecessary antagonism towards Jewish texts, and, therefore, she left it out.  Other than that, she went along with the programme treating it not as modular, but as though it demanded a step-by-step approach.  She claimed the chapter dealing with the male morning blessing:  “Blessed are you…for not having made me a woman” annoyed the girls very much, and the boys also found it offensive.  She told me that the Conservative alteration to “…for making me in His image” was a welcome change in her class.

The blessing discussed is often rationalised through the fact that men are required to observe and fulfil all the precepts of Jewish law while women are not, since many of the precepts are time related and the traditional role of women did not leave them much unoccupied time.  Men are grateful for the opportunity to do their religious duties.  This is not to imply that it is acceptable for a 21^st century young woman to settle for the medieval role of womanhood; yet viewing this blessing as a sexist celebration of masculinity is misleading, and portrays only a partial picture of the facts.  Orit did not deal with this issue at all, she only presented this as a problem since, once again, it brought about antagonism towards Judaism.  The issue of antagonistic feelings towards Jewish heritage is of major concern to Orit, and it seems she is quite content to leave problematic texts outside the classroom.  She commented on the level of literary texts and made suggestions, such as a request for an accompanying pupils’ booklet.  Throughout the two-hour interview she mentioned the need for TALI to provide ready-made material for use in the classroom.  The He & She programme was not a modular suggestion from which she might choose, she saw it as an incomplete good idea, which could improve with additional material at the pupils’ level. 

While trying to arrange an appropriate time to observe a lesson, Orit postponed this for three months, till practically the end of the school year.  She was going abroad with a group of pupils to visit their twin school in California, a Conservative school.  The pupils going with her had to learn other things before their departure, such as prayers and blessings.  She said that during the two weeks following Passover she would be busy with the Holocaust Memorial Day and with Independence Day. After that she would get back to this programme. 

The lesson finally took place as planned despite the long time lapse.  It was a double period dealing with stereotypes of manhood and womanhood.  The 5^th grade pupils were seated in unisex groups, which Orit tried to break up.  This was no easy task, and the children refused to mix.  Finally Orit moved a few pupils around until there were representatives of both sexes in each group.  This transfer took about ten minutes, and the class settled down to work. 

The assignment for each group was to create two posters using newspaper clippings, pictures and crayons.  One poster was to present the group’s view on femininity and the other – masculinity.  The children were instructed to talk and reach an agreement first, however, it seemed that busy work with scissors and glue attracted them all, and no time was spent talking before the actual work.  Orit quickly added a final instruction:

I want to give you only one hint.  We’re living in the 21^st century.  That’s all; I don’t want to say any more because that would be influencing your work.  

The class settled down to work in six groups of six pupils each.  There wasn’t much discussion between the children.  Each group seemed to obey one or two pupils, mainly girls.  In only one group a boy took the lead.  Orit seemed tired, she sat at her desk and then left the class to get something from her office.  During the entire time, while pupils were getting organised in the required co-ed groups she was giving instructions, sending pupils to their seats.  Afterwards she explained the assignment, and still she was the only one speaking.  This lasted for another seven minutes of constant speech.  When she asked whether everything was clear, there were no questions.  The pupils seemed very familiar with this type of assignment and they were all active.  While the class worked in groups was the first time that Orit was silent. 

After completing the posters the pupils presented them in class and it appeared that the pupils chose to present stereotypical items as connected with masculinity or femininity.  Men were presented through cars and computers while cosmetics were evident in all feminine posters.  There were many joint categories such as rock stars, clothes, musical instruments, magazines, books, pets and sports, however, the content of most of these categories was different for each sex.  Different rock stars, clothes, sports, magazines and books appeared in the male poster and in the female one.  The only categories that seemed to show no difference between genders were musical instruments and pets. 

Following the break, the lesson started again, and Orit completed the poster presentation while commenting: “…and this is the 21^st century.”  The pupils were then requested to choose one item they felt was important to them “not from your own stereotypical list but from the opposite sex’s list.  There is no need to raise your hand, I will call on each of you.”  Some pupils wanted to present something that wasn’t on the posters, but they were rebuffed.  One of the boys said that he liked girls, and Orit responded that boys like girls and girls like boys.  The atmosphere was light and joyful, and all the pupils participated in the discussion.

This part of the lesson did not introduce any issue concerning Judaism, and it seemed that it might have been held in any western society.  Creative and caring thinking was encouraged since children were requested to work in groups and create the poster while considering the opinions of other members of the group.  The opportunity to learn how to work with others was not wasted, although each group was immediately led by one or two pupils.  The leaders not only gave instructions, but in many cases acted as moderators and invited input from the entire group.  Even though poster making is a creative activity, the distribution of magazines and newspaper clippings set boundaries to creativity, which seemed to be mechanical to most groups.  They had done this kind of activity before and knew what was expected.

Constructive or critical thinking were not encouraged in this part of the lesson, although raising consciousness to stereotypical thinking might have been a trigger to further thought, which might have led to a critical or a constructive approach.  Within the classroom this was not accomplished. 

Neither Jewish nor other texts were introduced, and there was no real moral dilemma to think about.  The lesson provided a closer look at gender stereotypes, but did not move beyond them.  The pleasant atmosphere seemed to indicate that the activity in class was entertaining.  There was no indication of conflicts, value clashes, or any such discomfort, which might lead to new understanding.

In her interview, Orit spoke a lot about the planned visit to the twin school in California, Pressman school, where she would teach the same programme.  Now, following her return with the delegation of pupils who had gone on the trip, she told her pupils that while she had been at Pressman the children had had a similar assignment to what they were about to do, which was a personal letter expressing pupils’ thoughts about femininity and masculinity.  She made sure the pupils understood that whereas earlier in the lesson they were required to come to an agreement with members of their group, now they were free to express their own opinions.  They would then each receive a similar page written by a Pressman pupil, and would answer him/her on the subject of gender and other subjects such as hobbies, rock stars, etc.

Although this switch in the lesson did not introduce a Jewish text, the idea of a bond between Jews added an aspect of Jewish solidarity.  This was enhanced by the promise of a gift sent by Pressman children, to be distributed at the end of class.  There was a lot of excitement; the children obviously liked the idea. 

The questions in the assignment were as follows:

What is your name?

How old are you?

Which grade are you in?

What are your hobbies?

Who do you admire? (Who are you a fan of?)

Compare women to men, what is typical of each gender?

What do your father and mother do in the household? What is your role?

The pupils were supposed to answer these questions, read the American pupil’s letter and then answer it based on the answers to the seven questions.  At this stage the classroom seemed confused.  Should they write their answers in English?  What if they didn’t know enough English? The instructions seemed to be unclear or perhaps too difficult for a large group of pupils.

It is interesting to note that Orit’s attempt to add Jewish content into this session, which is universal by nature, is a personal attempt, linked to the special relationship between the two schools.  She did not turn to texts but to personal contacts, and perhaps the confusion in the classroom was because didactically the activity was not completely thought out.  However, the children seemed curious to find out what the American children wrote.  Confusion also seemed to be associated with the language issue. 

At this stage the bell rang, and Orit allowed the class to finish their letters as a homework assignment.  She then handed out candy – the gift they were promised.  The answers to the last two questions they were to address in their letters to Pressman are introduced in a table marked as appendix 1 on pages 236-238.

A close examination of the table reveals 13 statements showing some change from the traditional roles of parents, although not equality in the full sense of the word.  There are 16 statements of traditional roles in the household.  12 statements show an egalitarian attitude to the roles of parents in the household.  One statement was not taken into account since there was only one parent in the pupil’s life.

These statements may be viewed as the background to the pupils’ attitudes.  The pupils’ assignment was to report on the roles within their households, not to comment on them.  Although it is obvious that there would be a connection between what pupils see at home and their views, especially at such an early age as twelve, they were not asked directly what they felt was the role of men and women.

Another question they were asked was similar to the group assignment in class: a comparison between men and women.  Most children wrote about what they thought men and women liked and showed differences through likes and dislikes.  Still it was apparent where children rejected traditional views in favour of a more egalitarian approach, and this can be seen in a table marked as appendix 2, pages 239-240.

Five pupils did not complete their answers to this question.  An overwhelming majority of the replies, 22 of the 35, echoed extremely traditional views of masculinity and femininity among children, similar to the group work presented earlier.  Only five pupils thought there was no real difference, not on the level of gender.  This corresponds with the group posters presented in class, and may indicate that pupils’ views tend to be more conservative in their attitudes than their parents, as portrayed in their roles in the household.

The answers presented here are extremely interesting in terms of pupils’ attitudes to gender issues; yet they do not deal with specifically Jewish subjects.  As the lesson dealt with the issue of stereotypical thinking of men and women, there was no attempt to discuss the meaning of gender in Jewish life.  It is interesting to note that this lesson took place in a Jewish studies period.  As a lesson introducing the notion of equality as a western and pluralistic value, it allowed an initial mapping out of the subject, yet provided no direction in terms of the appropriate values.  Children could discuss what they commonly saw at home and speak of their perception of the issue.  The results indicated that in the pupils’ homes there was a greater tendency in the direction of equality of division of labour in the household than was shown by the pupils answers to gender differences.  The pupils saw a marked difference between the role of women and the role of men, even when their homes accepted a more egalitarian than traditional approach to the issue.

It is not altogether surprising to find that children of ten to twelve have traditional views; and this specific lesson did not provide the opportunity to reconsider them, merely to present them openly.  Nevertheless, the fact that following the lesson, in their homework assignment, the pupils appeared to present a stronger traditional view than the lifestyle they were accustomed to at home cannot be ignored.  It is interesting that on such an issue, the traditional point of view is held by an overwhelming majority.

Following this lesson six pupils joined me for a group interview.  We met in an air-conditioned study room, used generally by teachers for preparation of material.  The contents of this room were donated by the parents of a soldier who had once studied at this school and was killed during his military service.  This is a common phenomenon, and like other rooms dedicated to the memory of a loved one, it differs from all other rooms in the building.  The furniture is not standard issue, the books on the shelves are reference books and not children’s literature, and there are a couple of computers in the room.  It was probably the most pleasant room to be in, since this was one of the hottest days of the year. 

The group consisted of three girls and three boys, and, following my explanation of the purpose of our meeting, I asked them what they would call the lesson they had just finished.  Two children said the lesson should be called Pressman, after their twin school.  The others said it was a lesson dealing with a comparison between men and women.  One pupil felt the comparison went even further and discussed the attitudes to men and women in Israel as compared to the attitude towards them in the States.  They had no problem continuing the conversation on their own.  One of the pupils remembered the same activity as it took place in Pressman, since he had been a member of the school delegation.  Another wondered why they had needed to be seated in mixed groups and was answered by a friend:

Girl 1: Because if there were only girls in the group they would have a hard time doing the boys’ part.

Girl 2: I don’t know what Ben or Yonathan or Amos like.  I have only a vague idea.

Boy1: I knew a bit.  Like I knew about the dresses and stuff.  But I was also surprised.  I thought the girls were happy with the way things were.

Boy 2: I don’t know what you’re talking about.  I really don’t see a difference between what boys like and what girls like.

They spoke of the work system within the group:

Girl 1: We cut out all sorts of things for women and for men, then we decided which should go where.

Boy 1: In our group they gave me scissors and told me to cut.

Girl: Who gave you?

Boy 1: Rotem (girl’s name).

Boy 2: So what?

Boy 1: Nothing.  It means the girls took the initiative.

Boy 3: That’s not initiative! They took control! Nobody asked us what we thought.  The girls did the bit about boys too.

The boys realised that the group assignment was mainly fulfilled by the girls and their point of view did not receive proper attention, yet they made no comment regarding the actual content of the posters.  I asked them whether consultation was needed, whether they had learned anything new about the opposite sex, to which the answer was negative.  It may be concluded that the boys felt the process of choosing the pictures for the assignment was unfair, yet they didn’t feel misrepresented by it.

Their response to a more general question, whether they felt that any TALI lessons made them think differently about an issue, was similar.  No, they did not change their opinions.  One of the boys added that he didn’t believe in God and that wouldn’t change.  However, when the discussion moved on to the subject of prayer they spoke of some interesting changes in their attitudes since they had begun studying this subject.  At first they all shared the same resentment of prayer.  They thought the demands would be heavy, that they would find prayers difficult to understand.  They thought praying would be compulsory and were concerned about this.  These worries were resolved once they began studying.  They were not forced to pray, and in fact the school held no prayers at all.  One of the boys who stated earlier that he did not believe in God and nothing would change his mind said he was quite happy in class, because the teacher translated the prayers so they were easy to understand.  I asked him why he needed translation, after all the prayers are in Hebrew, to which he replied that the Hebrew used in the prayer book was high language, like the Bible.

The term “Biblical Hebrew” is commonly used to describe ancient, archaic and difficult to comprehend language.  In spite of this it seems interesting that he would select the term “translation” in reference to his mother tongue.  The alienated attitude to prayer, as the initial standpoint this pupil expressed, comes across clearly:  prayer is so foreign, it needs translating.  In view of this, the success of a lesson on prayer might be seen even as the pupils’ passive acceptance of this lesson.  Interestingly, some pupils stated they would like to have prayers at school, even if not on a daily basis. 

Boy 1: When I was at Pressman they prayed every morning.  It was kind of nice praying with them.  It’s kind of…you feel together.  I even liked their accent.  I liked praying with them.

Boy 2: Yes, also when they were here they prayed, and they had one boy stand before them and lead the prayer.

Boy 3: I thought prayers were always the same.  Please God do this, do that.  I learned that this is not true.  Every topic has a suitable prayer in Judaism.  It’s interesting.  I don’t think I’ll use it when I grow up.  I don’t think you should learn prayers in elementary school.  I think we’re too young.  Maybe the others will be angry with me.  

The change some pupils experienced in their attitude to prayer had little to do with the lessons and a lot more to do with the atmosphere, the feeling of community and solidarity.  This is referred to in all TALI publications as “experiencing Jewish customs.”  Learning about them academically misses the point; prayers have to be experienced in an authentic fashion in order to truly understand their meaning.  The pupils kept relating to the Pressman children, saying that prayer came naturally to them since they came from religious homes.  They were used to it from an early age.  Yet when they referred to themselves they claimed that it was wrong to start this subject with them at their early age, since they had not yet decided how they would live their lives, and felt that requiring them to pray would be an attempt to influence them into a religious lifestyle.

One boy said he felt prayers tended to portray God as an extremely positive entity, and this to him was wrong.  God was responsible for a lot of wrong and even evil deeds, or at least He neglected to stop those terrible things, and he didn’t feel it was justified to treat Him in such a positive manner.  He was the only pupil who said he would refuse a demand for a weekly compulsory school prayer.  He stated that had he wanted such activity he would have chosen to go to a religious school.  The theological question raised was not addressed by anyone else; they seemed to feel more comfortable dealing with the issue of the right age to begin prayers.

In answer to my question about what they thought the reaction in class would be if they were required to pray one morning a week, the other five said they expected their class would accept, although they all anticipated initial discomfort.  One of the girls said the issue would be determined by the popular pupils; if they accepted everyone else would agree.  The total rejection Orit had seemed to fear from pupils and parents when interviewed was not shared by her pupils.  In view of this I was especially surprised by their attitude to the Jewish Studies programme. 

All six pupils said Jewish Studies were boring, that they would have preferred science lessons which their school did not provide.  They felt TALI subjects would not help them in life, and therefore there was no reason to learn them.  They were uninteresting, and they felt they only played a passive role most of the time.  They also said the lesson I had watched had been an exception since it was active and creative.  It was not an example of their usual TALI lessons.  Since this lesson did not deal with Jewish heritage in any sense of the word, and the only semi-Jewish content was created by adding the twin school into the agenda (an act that could be understood as Jewish solidarity), it seems reasonable to deduce that this was not a good example of Jewish education.  The pupils spoke of the didactic approach in that particular lesson, which also seemed to them to differ from usual TALI classes. 

Miriam’s case

Miriam teaches at Orit’s school in Tel Aviv.  She has been teaching there for five years.  Before that she was a teacher of Arabic and TALI offered her an opportunity to expand her profession.  She is a coordinator of Jewish Studies in the school, and teaches Jewish Studies, Arabic, and Language and Culture, a unique subject developed by the teachers.  This interesting subject will be discussed in detail in chapter seven.  Miriam loves her work and it is apparent that she is a dedicated teacher and, in her own words, “I find myself constantly taking on new tasks.”  

Miriam was present at the first session about the programme in school, but didn’t actively participate.  We became better acquainted when I came to the school to meet the headteacher, Orit.  Miriam was always busy preparing for a trip or a ceremony of sorts.  Arranging an interview with her was not easy; she was always needed elsewhere.  She commented that many of her Prayer lessons were cancelled since she was called to other classes, other assignments, visitors to the school. 

Miriam came from a religious family but leads a secular lifestyle today.  She loves teaching Jewish subjects, however she does not teach in a religious orthodox manner, but in what she refers to as “the beauty of Judaism”.  She wants her pupils to leave the lesson saying “Wow, that was interesting”.  Miriam tries to go into the meaning behind the action in rituals, so that her secular pupils will identify with the reasons for rituals.  She uses the words “I wish” to describe prayer, and told her pupils that prayers were basically like making wishes.  Thus their initial antagonism towards prayer as a ritual, with which they had nothing in common, has been modified, and they are more receptive to the subject.

She had a query regarding the He & She programme.  She liked the literature, she liked the parts dealing with adolescence, and she would like to show that the issue also existed within Jewish texts; yet she felt there was too much text in the programme that had little relevance to the pupils’ lives.  She would have preferred a stronger emphasis on social issues that were closer in content to the children.  She spoke of the comparison of the two chapters from Genesis in the initial teachers’ meeting, saying that although it had been interesting, it was irrelevant.  This subject should be treated differently so that it would interest pupils.  In answer to my question as to whether Jewish texts that discussed gender issues should be included, her answer was affirmative.  The Jewish texts should be brought in to prove that the ideas were discussed as early as the early days of the Jewish people. 

Because we were here first.  I always tell them that.  The fact that everyone has this [the treatment of gender relations and regard for the status of women] is great, however we had it first.  It’s important for me that they see that we are the chosen people.  Like in the army, when you have what is called a sense of pride in your regiment.  We are the chosen people even if…well…sometimes we have… still we are chosen, even if in practical life we don’t always see it.  We are a light unto the nations [based on Isaiah 60,3].  I consider it my responsibility to strengthen the Jewish element.  

I asked her what she meant by “the chosen people” and her reply was clear.  The “chosen people” to Miriam meant the nation that had brought the world every worthwhile value: the value of family, caring for each other, belonging.  All other monotheistic religions were influenced by us. 

However, Jewish sources, in her opinion, even those from as far back as the Old Testament, do not provide a very positive image of society’s treatment of women.  Women are portrayed as marginal, and she recalled an example when teaching Kings. 

When David flees from Absalom, in spite of the prophecy of Nathan, he leaves his wives behind, knowing full well what was to become of them.  They are not important enough to him, they are only women, so he leaves them behind.  

After thinking for a while she acknowledged that the Bible didn’t provide many opportunities to boast about Jewish women’s status.  She then said she hoped the programme writers had rectified this by choosing Midrashim and other Jewish writings that contribute to a more favourable approach.  I told her that we simply found none, since apparently the middle ages were no better for Jewish women than for non-Jewish women.  She seemed genuinely upset, and asked me why she should bring this into the classroom at all.  Miriam seems to echo Orit’s approach, that ideologically embarrassing material should be left outside the classroom. 

The lesson I was invited to watch dealt with stereotypes.  Miriam distributed newspaper advertisements and asked the pupils what was wrong with them.  The class had previously discussed the issue so they immediately understood and started marking the sexist advertisements.  A class discussion followed and the children spoke of all the examples they found.  Miriam reminded them of the Equal Opportunity Employment Act, and asked them if they thought the advertisement they had read had complied with this act.  One girl refused to join the otherwise unanimous negative answer, and claimed that the answer was more complex.  Miriam complimented her and asked her to expand on the issue of what needed to be done to rectify this, since there was a consensus that the law should be implemented.  The girl seemed confused.  Her comment referred to the current situation as portrayed by the advertisements, that perhaps the law was not being broken; however she was now required to expand on another issue altogether.  She remained silent and Miriam repeated the question to the whole class:

What do we need to do? We disagree with the situation as it is so what should we do to improve it? What do you think?

There was silence in the classroom.  It seemed to me that the pupils were not being asked whether they thought something should be done, it was assumed they thought steps should be taken; the only question remaining was which steps would be taken.  Their commitment to upholding the law in this case was taken for granted.  Following the silence a discussion began, in the format of teacher asking - pupil responding - teacher responding to pupil’s response.  Militant viewpoints requesting legal action were rewarded with compliments.  The pupil who first said that she thought the situation was more complex was called upon to join the conversation but declined.  The pupils suggested different courses of action that could be taken in order to improve the situation. 

Miriam then asked whether in actual fact there were jobs that were more suited to men or women.  The previous structure continued whereby all pupils spoke to the teacher rather than to each other.  They reached the issue of physical strength as a criterion that might lead to a different approach.  Someone mentioned the difference in roles in the army.  For a couple of minutes there was a heated discussion between three pupils about whether girls should be given more sheltered jobs in the army, and the issue of physical strength.  This discussion was stopped by Miriam who decided to exclude physical strength and military service from the discussion.  The issue of physical strength was less and less relevant, Miriam said.  Still she asked them how they could explain the fact that many jobs were only offered to men although they were not based on physical strength.

One boy said he heard of research that proved women were not as smart as men.  He was ignored.  A girl said that nothing but education would help, and Miriam was clearly happy with the answer.  The conversation switched to the importance of education and to the perception of gender.  As she told the children:

Mor is right.  It’s all up to education.  If we change the education in school and we change the homes and they start educating towards equality we can change attitudes.  Excellent! This is a process, of course.  We become aware, we pay more attention, and this will bring about change.  

The teacher-based dialogue continued.  One of the boys doubted the influence that parents and homes might have on attitudes; he felt peer pressure had a stronger impact.  Miriam took it upon herself to show him how he had been influenced by many things, even the choice of toys his parents chose for him as an infant and child. The pupil told her that even if his parents had brought him dolls to play with, when he went out to play the other boys would laugh at him.  Before the pupil even finished arguing his point Miriam intervened, saying:

Miriam: Look at us:  we’re a class of 30 children.  If the entire class went through this change wouldn’t that do it?

Pupil: That will never happen!

Miriam: Why do you say that? Look at what happened here today!

Pupil: Yes, but it’s difficult to convince all parents together!

Miriam: True, but do you think what we have today is what we had 30 years ago?

Pupil: Of course there’s a change, but it takes such a long time!

Miriam: Well, you’ve got to start somewhere.

The central role Miriam played in this debate jeopardised her ability to promote the pupils’ thinking.  There were some good starts of critical thinking in this lesson, where the pupils were required to examine advertisements and check where they fell short of the Equal Opportunities Act.  Some students were accustomed to critical thinking and tried to use it during the class discussion, however the conversation was conducted in such a format that whatever opinions were expressed, they had to meet the approval of the teacher.  This was counterproductive, since it encouraged pupils to wait and see what was expected, and only the bold ones make an attempt to convince the teacher of their opinions. 

Yet it seems this class was not easily discouraged, and they kept trying to find other alternatives to the issue of education, which had been named as the primary tool towards gender equality.  In this case, being discouraged from the use of critical thinking aided in the development of constructive thinking.  One of the pupils came up with the idea that television had had a considerable influence on this issue, since it created role models generally of a traditional background.  Others brought up the subject of children’s literature and they considered various ways in which this might be influenced.

Finally, towards the end of the lesson, Miriam introduced them to the Israeli Air Force motto, stating that “The good men become pilots, and good women are there for the pilots.”  The children were encouraged to examine this 20-year-old motto and invent a new one more suited to the egalitarian attitudes of our times.  Many mottoes were invented and introduced in class.  One of the mottoes, “The good men become pilots, and so do the good women” was introduced and Miriam asked the children what they thought bothered her in this motto.  One of the pupils immediately said that the women in this motto are like a supplement, as if to say they are not as central.  The answer was accepted.

The discussion of whether, in value education, every opinion expressed should be accepted, is as old as value education itself.  The need to make a statement for feminist education is obvious, and as such should not be condemned.  This lesson, however, went beyond that.  Any attempt to even try to put the accepted idea into different words was scrutinised, and was subjected to rejection by the one and only acceptable point of view.  Teaching children equality while considering a single opinion as the only valid one is problematic.  If a discussion cannot show more equality in structure, allowing the free discussion of ideas between pupils.  Furthermore, if the teacher’s opinion amounts to more than the pupils’ ideas, then the lesson does not allow children to state and test their values and beliefs.  A lesson is not pluralistic or democratic merely because the teacher chooses a politically correct topic.  If the didactics used are closer to normative and are even indoctrinatory, then the nature of that lesson is, to a great extent, so determined. 

Although this lesson provided very little opportunity for critical thinking, since any attempt to express a reactionary view was met and dealt with, there was a degree of constructive thinking where pupils were encouraged to think how the current situation could be corrected.  They came up with ideas such as censorship of advertisements, rewriting children’s books.  Creative thinking was also incorporated in the demand for a new Air Force motto; however, the view expressed by the new motto was not left to the pupils’ discretion.  The quiet mumbling of one of the boys, that he had read research that claimed men and women were different not only physically, was ignored.  It is important to note that pupils’ participation in class was not enthusiastic.  Only about five pupils seemed eager to express themselves, so although there seemed to be opportunity for constructive and creative thinking in the lesson, this did not play an active role. 

Six pupils around a table in the schoolyard participated in the group interview, three boys and three girls.  We sat.  The pupils easily started speaking, and it was obvious that they were well acquainted with each other’s opinions.  They spoke of the lessons about stereotypes they had been having, and one of the girls said they were generally screaming contests, where pupils screamed their opinions at the top of their lungs.  When I said that such behaviour was not my experience in this lesson at all, another girl suggested this was because they each remained with their initial opinions.  They had firm views on the issue of gender roles, and felt strongly about their ideas.  The intolerance I perceived by the teacher in class was maintained by the group against two of the boys.  The third boy expressed more feminist ideas and interestingly was excluded from the initial conversation. 

Boy1: Tell me, this question of stereotypes.  You say the boys were given toy guns to play with.  Did the girls want guns? That’s the question!

Girl 1: Did the boys want guns?

Boy 1: Yes, I think so.

Girl 1: No they didn’t.  They just took what they were offered.  Boys were told they’re heroes, and when you grow up you will drive a tank.

Boy 1: I don’t remember ever being told anything like that.  

Girl 1: Did your parents give you dolls to play with?

Boy 1: No.

Girl 2: Because they too thought in the same way! How could you want dolls if no one offered them?

Girl 3: If you had had dolls from when you were a baby…

Boy 2: And everyone else had them too.

Boy 1: I don’t think I’d want to.

Boy 2: there was this poem we learned about a girl who says that for Passover her brother got this great big truck and all she got was a pathetic doll…She would have rather had the truck!  [amazed].

Throughout the hour-long conversation the girls seemed bent on changing boy 1’s point of view.  I asked them whether there really were no differences between boys and girls other than physical elements, and the general answer was that there were, perhaps, some minor differences, however nothing worth talking about.  Boy 1 remained silent while the others spoke and when I turned to him girl 2 said half-jokingly: “don’t ask him”.  He spoke of research that examined children’s books used in nursery schools in Israel, where the boys were presented as smarter while the girls were seen as more sensitive, worrisome and understanding.  He felt this was the case not only in books but also in real life.  Girl 3 agreed with him, yet said this difference in traits did not mean they would give up the right to make their own choices. 

Boy 2 brought up the issue raised by the film “Billy Elliott”, where the main character is a boy from a Welsh mining town who dreams of becoming a ballet dancer.  This was too much for boy 1, who called him a disgrace to masculinity.  He was rebuked by all present, labelled a chauvinist, yet continued to express his views quietly and firmly.  He denied being a chauvinist, saying that a chauvinist felt superior to women, while he didn’t, he only felt different.  Later on I asked him why he didn’t speak up in class.  I had heard him muttering to himself, but he didn’t contradict the teacher.  He said he didn’t see the point, and didn’t think she would be interested.

The lesson I had attended was part of the Jewish Studies framework, and I asked the pupils about it.  It took them a while to remember that one of the He & She lessons dealt with the blessing from the morning prayer where men blessed God for not making them women and women thanked God for creating them as He wished.  They spoke of their synagogue experience, mainly around the subject of Bar/Bat Mitzvah.  They spoke of the minor role women played in religious worship, and the differences in less orthodox forms of religion.  Boy 2 felt that changes in religion and tradition were inappropriate, but the others expressed their feeling that the possibility of choosing a less orthodox form of observance satisfied them. 

An interesting part of this group interview was their answers to the question of whether they could see any change in the way they thought of issues before they discussed them in class and afterwards.  All the girls claimed they had always felt that women’s status should be improved yet they had been unaware of the gravity of the situation.  They felt more committed and less tolerant to anti-feminist ideas.  Two boys said they had never thought girls were unhappy with the status quo.  All but one felt the programme had taught them something important. 

Feminism is not a universal value, yet it is within the late modern politically correct agenda.  It cannot be considered part of a religious national identity, and I will refer to it here as a democratic value.  The choice Miriam made in teaching this lesson was a choice for democratic values.  Jewish values or texts were not even hinted at, and it is therefore impossible to examine the combination of particularistic values and universal values.  By teaching a programme dealing with stereotypical thinking and promoting a feminist approach Miriam was successful in making an impact, making a change.  However, not only Jewish values were neglected in this programme, thinking was also not promoted in a serious fashion.  The teacher’s need to promote a feminist approach clouded all other goals, but this particular aspect was achieved.

Hana’s Case:

Hana’s teaching career began as a dietician and a teacher of home economics nineteen years ago.  Very soon she became an elementary school teacher with no major subject.  When she completed her B.Ed degree most of the courses she took were in Jewish Studies.  Hana was proud of her professional development since she was now not only a homeroom teacher but also a TALI coordinator and counsellor.  She spoke very softly throughout the interview, smiled often and seemed very relaxed and self-assured.  We met in her homeroom class after school hours, and throughout the interview she referred to classroom decorations to demonstrate issues discussed and subjects taught.

As she explained the process by which the school had become associated with TALI, Hana kept referring to the difference between Judaism and religion time and again, saying that both teachers and parents were confused because they saw them as one.  She said that many teachers felt threatened by the school’s new identity and parents too were anxious and thought the school would try to influence children to become religious.  Things have now calmed down, she reported; the school won the parents’ trust and teachers found ways of teaching Judaism, without dealing with religion.

I asked her to expand on this and tell me what she meant by Judaism and by religion, to clarify the distinction.  Hana explained that religion was an individual matter, something a person did by herself and for herself, based on her beliefs.  There are rules and laws; yet she felt that people made their own choices of what they wished to observe.   Judaism as an educational issue was more a question of culture.

The pupils should at least know…we want them to learn the values of Judaism.  If they don’t observe the laws they should at least know something.  Religion is more the observation of Mitzvoth, and culture is knowing what they are.  They shouldn’t be ignorant.  They should know customs, so that they won’t be strangers in a synagogue, they should know what to do there.

Hana considers Holydays a major part of Jewish Studies.  Her ambition is to deal with the Holydays in depth and not, as she claims, they are generally celebrated in schools, but with special attention to the appropriate rituals and prayers.  The prayer book is another major part of her Jewish education agenda.  Although these two aims seem important to her, her real passion is for the teaching of social skills using Jewish texts and sources.  As an educator she invests time in improving the pupils’ relationships among themselves as a class and with others.  She spoke of one specific lesson that affected her, where she had asked the pupils to point out their strengths.  She was amazed to find that some children could think of nothing positive to say about themselves.  Hana considered it her responsibility to encourage the pupils, to help them develop a secure and happy identity.  She knew this could be done without Jewish sources, yet used them wherever possible.

There’s another goal when you teach these things with Jewish texts.  You add depth, when you see how our ancestors dealt with inter-personal relations, how the sages dealt with them.  It adds a dimension.  We enrich our knowledge.  We bring the texts closer to the pupils’ lives. 

Hana teaches the 4^th grade and was hesitant about using the He & She programme.  She found some of the texts rather difficult for ten year-old-pupils.  Her decision to deal with parts of the programme had little to do with gender issues, but more with the issue of internal and external.  This was another approach to discussing human nature with her pupils and to going beyond that which meets the eye.  She wanted to use elements from the He & She programme to supplement her own programme, which dealt with personal identity and self-image. 

Once a week half of her pupils studied sciences with another teacher and she worked with the 2^nd half in a small group.  Her class that year had serious social problems.  The quality of dialogue between her pupils required improvement; the atmosphere in the classroom was uncomfortable and unproductive.  Hana used some elements from a Magic Circle programme, aimed at contributing to a listening and accepting atmosphere and added to it.  She added Jewish texts that she felt would contribute to this goal, and in this way she found the He & She programme interesting.  While the programme was initially designed for modular use, I still wondered what need Hana had for the programme if all she intended to use were the texts.  The texts, whether poetry or ancient writings, can quite easily be obtained from other sources, and her choice of using a gender curriculum without dealing with gender seemed strange.  Perhaps Hana found that they were presented in a user-friendly format, or perhaps she would use more than she had originally intended.  Since she knew that I was one of the writing team, and as I did not want her to become defensive or intimidated by my questioning her reasons, I decided to wait for the actual lesson before exploring this issue any further. 

It took quite a while before sitting in on a lesson was possible.  There were a number of reasons for postponing, beginning with the absence of the science teacher, which meant that Hana would teach the entire class a different subject.  Hana’s son fell ill and she was called home from school.  There was a parents’ strike concerning the municipality’s intention of transferring the school.  Finally I observed a lesson two weeks before the end of the school year.  The lesson was held in a full class and not, as Hana preferred, with only half the pupils present. 

Before they reached the issue in question for the lesson, the roles of women and men, Hana asked the pupils to recall what they had done in the Magic Circle.  The short silence was followed by an overview by Hana; reminding them of things they had learned while attempting to improve communications between pupils in class.  She spoke of ways they had learned to control anger, about getting to know themselves, not only their weaknesses but also their strengths.  They had reached the point of speaking about gender relations in the classroom, and that was where she felt this lesson fit in. 

Initially, four children started speaking.  Their conversation was a mixture of ideas, about inequality in the army, and about their ability to play certain games together.  It was unclear whether they were concerned with classroom atmosphere or Israeli society.  Hana organised the discussion and children began expressing their opinions on the issue of roles of boys and girls.  The pupils expressed their opinions one after the other, and all seemed to have something to say.  Hana repeated what they said to make sure they were understood. 

Boy 1: In the army, in combat units we hardly see women although today there are some girls there.  Still, there are more male soldiers there.  

Hana: Yes, you are right.  We said we would find more men in combat units.

Girl 1: My friend loves football and she plays it really well.  

After a long discussion, in which most pupils wanted to express their views on the issue of roles in the home and at work, Hana introduced the problematic Mishnah text discussed previously in this thesis.  She told her pupils that since they had discussed different approaches towards women’s roles at home and in the workplace, perhaps even in the military, she would like them to see an ancient approach.  Their first assignment was to mark women’s roles in the text, and this was to be done individually.  The children worked quietly, and later discussed the text on the level of reading comprehension:

Hana: So what does it mean ‘handling wool’?

Boy: knitting.

Boy: maybe weaving.

Girl 1: I saw in Turkey a little girl weaving a carpet.  Maybe that’s what the Mishnah means?

Girl 2: Maybe also making clothes.  

Hana: You are all right, the Mishnah says something general about wool and we can generalise from things we know.  Now let’s see what happens when a slave comes into the household, when the woman is independently rich.

The children found it incomprehensible that a mother might allow someone else to nurse her baby.  Having cleared this up, they were willing to discuss the issue of Rabbi Eliezer who would not allow women to sit idle with no task to fulfil.  The children agreed with him, those who spoke expressed their opinions that people should be busy, that a woman might otherwise find that she did not belong to the family.  The lesson ended before a real discussion took place, yet it needs to be said that the pupils seemed quite willing to accept the Mishnah.

Speaking to the children in the group interview revealed some significant issues.  Interestingly, just as these pupils were eager to participate in the lesson they were eager to join the focus group: ten pupils joined the group.  They all declared that they thought their school was a good one, and the teachers were dedicated to their success.  Some of them felt that Jewish Studies were as interesting as adventure stories.  Others simply stated that Jewish Studies helped them when they visited religious relatives, and they felt their school had other advantages; such as an early start in studying English. 

Addressing the issue of change in their attitude towards the other sex, as a result of some understanding achieved in the lesson, all but one said their attitudes had changed.  They spoke of their ability to interact and of the discoveries they had made about the other sex.  They seemed concerned about their classroom relationships, but not about what girls could or should do in general.  They all related to specific girls and boys in class and their attitudes towards them. 

Although this was the largest group interview, and actually consisted of a third of the class, the eagerness to participate continued throughout the discussion.  All I had to do was introduce a question, which produced an independent discussion between the children.  They made sure everyone had an opportunity to present an opinion.  They reacted to each other using phrases such as: “I agree with you,” “I think what you said is not quite true,” etc.  The atmosphere was accepting and calm.  This is not usual behaviour for ten-year-old children.  It may be explained with the help of the one boy who said he had not changed his mind regarding girls: 

I didn’t change my mind because Hana asks us what we think and we say our opinions and then she doesn’t say what the correct answer is, so I still think I’m right.

The discussions in class allowed for different opinions and were not dogmatic.  There was no right answer and the main issue was relationships within the classroom, what is commonly referred to as classroom climate.  This was also what was revealed in the group interview.  When children referred to a change in attitude they didn’t speak of the Mishnah or any other text, they spoke of interpersonal relationships.  The discussion dynamics reflected this in the children’s ability to monitor their own discussion without excluding anyone.  There can be no doubt regarding the high level of caring thinking that this class was able to achieve. 

It is, however, difficult to attribute this to the He & She programme, since the programme was used for other aims.  The question of gender relations interested Hana and her pupils in terms of the classroom climate.  The texts Hana brought to class needed to be understood, not criticised.  The pupils learned them as texts of a period in history, something ancient in the Jewish heritage, but something they did not have to take issue with since it did not have to be considered relevant. 

Nevertheless, this type of open atmosphere and receptive attitude allows individual pupils to develop in different directions.  Some of the ideas introduced in class were creative and constructive.  After the initial reading of the Mishnah, Hana asked whether anyone would like to express an opinion, and a boy said he felt it was not relevant to contemporary life.  Hana’s immediate reaction was to ask her pupils to rewrite the Mishnah for today.  Creative and constructive thinking were present in the lesson, as a result of a pupil’s critical approach.  Thinking was rewarded in Hana’s class.

This is not surprising, since good thinking, be it creative, critical, constructive or caring, stems from a nurturing atmosphere.  This kind of atmosphere is at the heart of Hana’s educational agenda.  Undoubtedly, Hana used Jewish texts in the process, and the texts were introduced as part of Jewish heritage.  They were not the centre of the lesson and the children’s opinions were more highly valued, but Jewish texts existed at least at the level of knowledge and familiarity.  Children were invited to add to the text creatively, yet there was no call for practice or identification.  The issue of identity was dealt with here on a personal level.

Summary:

The He & She programme brings up important issues to discuss.  Although it allows teachers the use of Jewish texts without requiring Jewish practice follow-up, such as prayer or other rituals, and although the subject is well rooted in contemporary Western culture, it does not automatically follow that thinking of any kind, another Western cultural value, will be present or encouraged in class.  In lessons dealing with the same texts within schools of similar identity there were vast differences in the amount and quality of thinking required from pupils. 

It was not the ritual that prevented thinking from occurring in class, but frequently strong conviction on the part of the teacher was an obstacle in achieving independent thought.  If there was no room for difference, if there was only one correct answer, there seemed to be little point in thinking.  The challenge of an intriguing text in itself ensured very little.  Thinking can be achieved with the help of class dynamics wherein it is nurtured and encouraged. 

The teacher’s pedagogics and didactics formed a hidden curriculum, which was far more powerful than the official declaration made not only by TALI headquarters, but also by the teachers themselves.  Teachers who claimed their aim was pluralism found it difficult to accept opinions to which they were opposed.  In preparation of the programmes, although teachers were considered the clients, the discrepancy between their formal, testified views, and those which actually showed through their behaviour in the classroom, was not considered.

Although classroom dynamics are extremely important, the data collected here indicates that the subject matter too is crucial.  In the absence of a genuine challenge such as a disputable and provoking text, the level of discussion was lower in class, and the level of thinking remained at a minimum.  In the case of the He & She programme, the lack of a Jewish text in the lesson had yet another effect, of separating the topic from Jewish studies, since gender relations may be discussed in other frameworks. 

Chapter 6: The First of the Month: Rosh Hodesh

Three calendars are used simultaneously in Israel: the Gregorian which is commonly used in everyday life for most activities, including the beginning and end of the school year; the Hebrew calendar, which continues to determine Holydays, and the Moslem calendar used by Arab communities in Israel to determine their Holydays.  These three calendars provide three different approaches to the calculation of the year.  The Gregorian calendar completes a year with the earth’s completion of its circling of the sun.  The Moslem calendar calculates the year as twelve lunar months.  Because of this, Holydays may occur in different seasons each year.  The Hebrew calendar is similar to the Moslem one, with accommodations made to adjust to the solar year.

Fourth grade pupils in the state school system in Israel learn about the use of different calendars and differing systems of time calculation.  The First of the Month programme discussed in this chapter was written with fourth grade pupils in mind, TALI realised that here was an opportunity to go beyond a discussion of how time is organised, and saw this as an opening to renew old customs and celebrations.  Through learning about the lunar time calculation system pupils could also learn about the solar system, and understand the different calculations that various cultures choose to organise the year.  They could learn how Jews throughout history treated the monthly appearance and disappearance of the moon.  They could learn about customs and beliefs attributed to the celebration of the new month, and thus be familiarised with Jewish thought in different times.  An important goal of the programme is the encouragement of pupils and teachers to search for their own unique ways of celebrating the first day of the month.

Another aspect of this programme has to do with rituals. To this day there are still special prayers for the beginning of a new month.  This is an opportunity to learn festive prayers, since most Holydays take place during school vacation and pupils’ attendance and participation at actual rituals is the responsibility of their families.  The first day of the month generally takes place on a school day so that pupils can practice the special Hallel celebratory prayers and the Torah reading.  Many customs associated with the first day of the month have almost been lost over the years but TALI programme writers compiled many of the lost customs so they could be re-examined.  Pupils and teachers were invited to initiate their own rituals, which would be relevant and meaningful to them.

Most schools use a twenty five year old booklet discussing the subject of the month (synonymous with ‘moon’ in Hebrew) and the year.  This booklet teaches the more scientific aspects of the subject, such as the solar system, the calculations for a solar and lunar year.  The booklet discusses the moon and scientific knowledge available at time of writing.  It does not include any Jewish sources, does not deal with Jewish rituals associated with the lunar year, and in general, leaves religion outside the study agenda.  The new TALI programme consists of six units: 

a. The creation of the moon.

b. The sources of the Hebrew names of the months.

c.  Our calendar: constructing a classroom calendar.

d.  Other calendars.

e. Rosh Hodesh customs in different Jewish communities.

f.  My own Rosh Hodesh: encouragement of new and creative ideas for the celebration of Rosh Hodesh.

Only one unit deals with non-Jewish calendars.  All other units deal with Jewish sources, customs and rituals.  The difference between the old booklet and the new TALI one is striking. 

This Rosh Hodesh programme was the first of the new TALI programmes published, and was introduced in many schools via teachers’ workshops.  The unit introduced in those meetings was generally that which deals with different customs of Rosh Hodesh in Jewish communities.  The programme was accepted with interest in the schools; yet finding a school that would actually use the programme was quite another matter.  Many teachers said they were used to the old programme, they even liked it.  Many others seemed interested initially, but for many reasons did not ever actually teach the programme.

Figure 7: Rosh Hodesh Programme:

Tel Aviv Case

The first school to order a teachers’ session on this subject was an old primary school in Tel Aviv.  Due to the aging of the population in the nearby area the school faced closure, but by joining TALI two years earlier it was able to stay open and accept pupils from other districts.  With a specialty “school status”, TALI has added prestige, which makes it more attractive.  Also parents may consider it a means whereby they can avoid integrative schooling.  However, this does not mean that pupils who come to a TALI school are actually interested in Jewish education.  The parents may merely wish to avoid their own district school for various reasons, or be searching for a school with a more dynamic style and with higher teaching standards.  According to TALI headquarters, this Tel Aviv school is a good example of such a case, and most of its population did not choose it for the Jewish content.

The meeting took place in a classroom with very meagre decorations, some of which were more than a few months old.  We met close to the Holydays of Hanukka, and the Jewish New Year decorations were still up on the wall, two months old.  This is not a common sight in Israeli Primary schools, where teachers take pride in their classroom decorations.  There were fourteen teachers at this meeting; about seven of them were beginner teachers.  The two TALI representatives, Ms. Tirza Rotkovits and Ms. Yael Koren introduced the programme and chose to discuss the issue of  halakha (Rabbinical law) versus custom.  The role of custom in Jewish tradition is in not minor, and many participants were amazed to learn that what they thought was halakha turned out to be “only” custom.  The teachers seemed to have a rather limited Jewish Studies background, and took very little part in the discussion, which was reduced to a lecture.  Their participation was based on common sense, not on knowledge of Jewish heritage.

Tirza: Can anyone tell me the difference between halakha (Rabbinical Law) and custom?

Teacher 1: A custom is something you don’t have to fulfil.  A halakha is like an order.

Yael:  Yes.  So what do we need customs for?

[Silence]

Tirza went on to explain and give examples.  It was clear that the teachers had very little notion of the distinction between custom and law, and this served as an opening to a discussion of different customs related to the celebration of Rosh Hodesh, and the decision as to which customs the school would like to adopt.  In this way TALI anticipated a revival of Rosh Hodesh customs, making them relevant rather than distant and archaic.

While Tirza was explaining, the teachers were quiet, and seemed detached and uninterested.  Yet no one asked her why it was important to distinguish custom from halakha, or even why it was important to celebrate the birth of the Hebrew month.  They accepted what was said passively, which is unusual in sessions such as this.

After the initial discussion the teachers joined one of two workshops, one dealing with younger children and the other with fourth to sixth grades.  The plan was to use the programme as a trigger to any other activity the teachers would like to start in school.  The teachers seemed excited about the opportunity to use the first day of the month as a tool for strengthening Jewish knowledge and identity. 

One teacher complained that there was no time allotted for such a programme, to which her colleague, the TALI school coordinator answered, that the school had Rosh Hodesh activities anyway.  We discovered that every month the TALI coordinator in the school, who was one of the teachers attending the workshop, prepared a board with information about the new month at the entrance of the school.  This was something she did on her own, without involving other teachers or pupils.  The teachers at the meeting were surprised even to hear about it, since most of them were completely unaware of this board’s existence.  The coordinator also reminded her colleagues of the school’s monthly activities, such as folk dancing, and suggested moving them to the first day of the Jewish month.  The school coordinator seemed to be talking about matters that the other teachers knew little or nothing about, as though TALI was her personal business in the school, however, she was offering them an easy way out.  She would organise, she would plan, and the school would be able to present its Rosh Hodesh activity.  Tirza considered this approach counter-productive, and she pointed out that the purpose of the programme was not the production of something to present, but the educational process as a goal in itself.  Folk dancing on the first of the month could be a means of celebration; yet it would achieve very little if pupils and teachers learned nothing of the Jewish sources related to this programme.

One teacher spoke of customs she remembered her own mother practising on Rosh Hodesh, such as candle lighting and refraining from work.  Tirza, a member of TALI management and in the case of this programme also the coordinator of the team of writers, suggested that since the issue of Jewish identity arose several times in the discussion, they would use their programme as a reflexive discussion of identity, proceeding from the personal to a national and religious perspective.   She encouraged the teacher who had spoken of her mother’s practices to relate her knowledge of customs to the pupils, and to build onto the knowledge of old customs something that would be an expression of the pupils’ identities.

It is important to note that the Jewish month exists in secular Israel only as a timetable for Holydays.  The Hebrew date is printed in newspapers and announced on the morning news.  It may be written on the classroom blackboard, however, in most primary schools, if you ask for the date people will give you the Gregorian date.  Many secular people do not even know the current Hebrew month.  Only religious synagogue-going people would probably be more aware of the Hebrew calendar.  Most TALI teachers interviewed for this research mentioned Holydays as playing an important part in their educational programme and as a component of Jewish identity, and the first day of the month may be seen as part of that approach.  None the less it is surprising that no teacher questioned the suggestion of creating new rituals for the beginning of the month, since such days are insignificant in the eyes of most secular Israelis.

Some teachers expressed an interest in ready-made work sheets for the purpose of teaching this subject.  The materials in the programme were difficult, they said; they needed texts edited to suit the pupils’ level, material that was ready to use.  Tirza showed them worksheets prepared in other schools, such as a monthly calendar requiring pupils to fill in birthdays, Holydays and other important dates.  The teachers liked them, and asked for more materials of this kind.  They expressed no interest in using the programme as a trigger to prepare their own material.

This meeting began at 20:00, when Tirza said the aim of this programme was to contribute to the teachers’ knowledge, and through the development of the teachers’ knowledge this would contribute to the pupils’ knowledge.  The programme was introduced as an opportunity to learn Jewish texts and rituals, and three hours later all the teachers seemed interested in was the superficial activity of registering dates.  No actual decision was arrived at with regard to the content the school would attribute to the first day of the month.  By 23:00 it was too late to continue the meeting, and all the teachers wanted to go home. 

On our way home Tirza said she felt that this session had been a waste of time. “They want everything pre-digested,” she complained.  The teachers did seem to lack a pedagogic plan, and most of the Jewish Studies programme in the school was only carried out in order to avoid losing TALI support.  The meeting we had just attended seemed to demonstrate a similar attitude; the teachers had behaved as though it was only required that the meeting take place, so that the school could continue to be in the TALI organisation.  The first of the month remained as irrelevant to the teachers as it had been at the beginning of the session.  Lack of relevance seemed to alienate the teachers, Tirza concluded.

During the following weeks I made several calls to the school TALI coordinator and to two teachers who said they would probably teach this programme.  After some delay I was finally told they had no time allotted for the teaching of the subject of Rosh Hodesh.  When I asked about the curriculum, they said they would use the old programme, they found it covered the most relevant issues of the lunar year.  Jewish texts could be introduced elsewhere, not necessarily in connection with this subject.  The texts in this programme were difficult and the subject of the first of the month was archaic, no one dealt with it any longer.

Ashkelon Case

This new school is located in a relatively new and spacious neighbourhood in the southern coast town of Ashkelon.  We met eighteen teachers in a tiny and crowded teachers’ lounge.  Following her disappointment in Tel Aviv Tirza decided she would present the Rosh Hodesh programme differently here.  Her aim this time was to try and get the local staff more involved in planning the teaching process, so that they might use the programme as it was originally intended: a supplement for the teacher’s use and not a pre-prepared lesson plan. 

Tirza introduced the concept of multiple intelligences (Gardner, 1993). This was a brief introduction, mainly meant as a rationale for using a variety of teaching methods. The teachers were asked to work in teams of their choice, based on age group of pupils or the subject they taught, and prepare an activity related to the subject of Rosh Hodesh for each of Gardner’s seven intelligences.  Most of the teachers became engaged in this activity and their results were compiled on a board.  The activities suggested were either more scientific by nature (observations, calendar research), linguistic (such as synonyms for moon, idioms containing the word), or part of universal culture (such as “The Moonlight Sonata” by Beethoven).  Jewish customs, traditions, practices and laws were not mentioned at all.  Surprisingly, although the teachers may have lacked a Jewish education, one still might expect them to connect the first day of the month with Jewish Holydays.  These were surely topics with which they were familiar.

Tirza introduced the question that had been discussed in Tel Aviv: the difference between a law and a custom.  The level of knowledge of Jewish texts in this teachers’ room was limited, as indicated by their choices in the preceding activities, and most of the teachers had mistaken notions about the distinction between a Jewish law and custom.  The teachers lost interest quickly; one asked whether we needed those old customs any more since nowadays, we led our lives by the Gregorian calendar.  This question, which was not asked by the Tel Aviv teachers, had been considered crucial to the programme, and was raised by the programme developers during the process of writing.  The programme writers had answered this question on two levels: first, the lunar calendar was part of the fourth grade curriculum, and second, it was an opportunity to introduce Jewish texts and practices.  This did not really address the problem of the relevance of teaching what was conceived of as archaic, it merely provided a reason for teaching an anachronism although it was irrelevant.  The same answer was given here, however, it did not seem to have the same effect on the teachers as it had had on the team of writers. The teachers remained unconvinced, and in spite of their involvement in the first part of the workshop, they became passive for the remainder of the session. 

The beginning of the meeting had been lively and the teachers had shown interest when engaged in creative activity on the topic.  The need to deal with the subject through Jewish texts was accompanied by a loss of interest, which might be attributed to lack of knowledge, but was more likely a resistance to the subject of Jewish texts.  To meet this resistance more than one session would be needed.  This would require attention to the teachers’ level of knowledge, and a genuine ideological discussion with them, before it might recruit them to TALI on an ideological level.  Without a genuine dialogue between TALI and the teachers on a grassroots level, the programme would remain unused. 

As previously mentioned in Chapter four, these new programmes were prepared as an answer to needs expressed in the field.  Our experiences in Tel Aviv and in this Ashkelon school indicated that this was not the case.  Neither school expressed a need for this programme and seemed content with the old one.  It appeared that although TALI considered this an opportunity to revive rituals, the teachers in these two schools saw little need for rituals at all.  Neither school conducted mandatory prayers, and both based the school’s TALI activities mainly on ready-made material arriving from TALI management, dealing with the weekly portion of the Torah and with Holydays.  Rituals were not part of their TALI programme and the attempt to create rituals through this study programme seemed to be counter-productive and even to cause antagonism. 

Numerous phone calls to the school’s TALI coordinator as well as separate calls to a teacher who had said she would use the programme, produced no results; here too the programme was not used.  The coordinator claimed there were not enough hours allotted to the school for implementation of the programme.  The explanation given by the teacher was that she had taught the old booklet beforehand and therefore would not spend further time dealing with the month from a Jewish point of view.

Sara’s case

After I had mentioned to Tirza, the programme coordinator, that I was aware that this programme did not seem popular, she introduced me to a counsellor in Ashkelon who used the programme with some of the schools with which she worked.  I was referred to a school that was not entirely a TALI school.  There were two classes in each age group, only one of which was TALI.  The school maintained an optional TALI class for three years, and Sara, the teacher I met, had been teaching this first class since the school had joined the organisation. 

The children attending TALI classes in this school were generally from traditional backgrounds.  Sara felt that although the pupils in fact observed certain traditions at home, and some even considered themselves religious, the level of pupils’ actual knowledge of the meaning of rituals or Jewish texts was minimal.  Sara added that the academic level and socio-economic background of children in her class were lower than the non-TALI class, where there were mostly new immigrants from the former Soviet Union.  However, there was one considerable advantage to this system in her view: either their parents or the pupils had chosen the TALI class for the purpose of Jewish education and not for other unrelated reasons.  There was no problem regarding Jewish rituals and the children considered their daily morning prayer as an integral part of their school day.

Sara was not familiar with the programme as it appeared in a teachers’ booklet, but became acquainted with it through lesson plans given to her by her TALI coordinator.  She was quite surprised to see the entire programme in a booklet.  “I don’t know what my coordinator used.  She brought me great stuff, poems etc.  I don’t know, she might have taken it from this programme.” The programme was designed with the notion of empowering the teachers, offering them knowledge, they could then decide whether they would like to teach the programme and what method they would use.  Obviously Sara did not have this choice, and had no idea where she could gain access to this material. 

Sara was very satisfied with this method and had only good things to say about her energetic counsellor, who even taught classes together with her, especially when she wanted to teach a song or a prayer, since Sara could not carry a tune.  She was aware of the old programme dealing with calendars, lunar and solar calculations of time, and said she taught this not only as a lesson dealing with life cycles, but as a TALI subject dealing with Jewish education. She taught how the first of the month was calculated and announced in ancient times, and customs associated with the first of the month such as repentance and the lighting of a candle.  She taught the special Hallel prayer for the beginning of the month and conducted a special service on the first of each month.  This, she rightly claimed, was not generally done in state schools.

Sara spoke of her special connection to Judaism, and said that although she had taken a number of courses in Jewish studies at the University, her love for this subject began later.  She told me she found comfort in religion at a time of personal crisis, and was pleased to help children find comfort in religion.  She felt that the two weekly hours allotted to TALI in her timetable were insufficient, and was pressured by the need to show progress at the end of the year.

Sara: I want the things I teach to touch them here [points to her heart].  Creativity and experience can do this, but we sin because of the constant pressure.  There’s never enough time, you have things to complete and you’re judged by how much you taught. 

I: Judged by whom?

Sara: Judged and condemned!  You have to keep up to the programme.  The parents, the principal, it goes on your personal file that you didn’t complete the programme.  It’s a question of accountability.

The lesson I came to see was one of the last dealing with the programme.  Sara had taught the class various customs dealing with the first of the month and today wanted to speak of the concept of charity, which is one of the customs associated with the new month.  She had left a charity box in the class several weeks earlier, telling her pupils that charity was one of the new month’s celebrations.  The lesson began with a clarification of the concept of charity.  The discussion was carried out in the form of teacher-pupil’s response- teacher’s response.  The conclusion of this discussion was that charity was a form of repentance and an opportunity to correct our ways on the first of the month, which was also referred to as a minor Day of Atonement.  

Sara then asked a pupil to bring the charity box she had left hanging on the wall some weeks earlier.  While we were waiting, she addressed me saying there were donations in the box last time she looked.  When the pupil brought the box it was empty, and dead silence fell.  Sara seemed very good-natured and although it was clear she was deeply distressed, she reacted calmly.  Later on, when we had a chance to talk, she kept reverting to this disappointment.  When faced with the empty box she was quiet for a while, as were her pupils, and then she said:   “Someone must have needed the money.  I know there wasn’t much, but it shouldn’t have been taken.”

The rest of the lesson was very much in the shadow of this incident.  Sara went on teaching a folk tale advocating the merits of charity, however, it was clear that her heart wasn’t in it.  She was obviously distracted, and taught the story as a reading comprehension text, dealing with only verbal understanding.  Moreover, the story in itself did not present a real challenge.  The incident of the missing money was not mentioned again, and did not come up in the group interview.  The only one who seemed troubled by it was Sara, that in itself may present a problem.

The value of charity, although taught here within a Jewish context, may be considered a universal value of assisting the needy.  The charity box was put in class to collect money, however the purpose for this collection was not clear.  Sara hung the box as means of educating the children to give to others less fortunate, yet did not decide with them, or even for them, to which charity the donations would go.  In that respect the class collection was perhaps more an example of betrayed trust then uncharitable behaviour.  Trust is another important value, which was not on the programme’s agenda yet it evolved from this incident. 

It made sense that Sara would defer treating this breech of confidence to a later date, when she had had enough time to consider what had happened, and when there would be no outsider, such as myself, at such a discussion.  However, it was surprising that the children offered no reaction.  Some of them had put money in the box, and they didn’t seem disturbed by the fact that it was gone.  Even assuming the money was taken by someone from another class, it could be expected they would be upset or annoyed.  Charity, the subject being taught, became an academic issue instead of a relevant value. 

Six children joined me for the group interview and were very happy to speak of their experience with TALI and with the Rosh Hodesh programme. They considered their class to be a status symbol; “I like TALI because we are thought of as more, special, better.  Children look up to us, we learn special things,” one of the boys said.  A girl said she felt that her class was closer to God than other classes.  As to the programme, they spoke of two elements as those that most interested them.  The first one was the scientific side of the programme.   The children spoke a lot about the movement of the moon around the earth and the movement of the earth around the sun, mentioning experiments they had held in class using balls of various sizes and lamps.  They all spoke together, adding to each other’s words.  They had learned the historic way of announcing the new month, but, more than that, each pupil knew the Hebrew month in which she was born and what its place was in the Jewish calendar in relation to Holydays.

The special rituals, customs and prayers were not mentioned at all.  The idea of a small Day of Atonement, charity, and repentance was not mentioned.  When I asked for their reaction to these topics, it was minimal.  One of the children said that we no longer celebrate the first day of the month; it’s all in the past.  Two others said that they learned these customs, but didn’t encounter them in real life.  The missing money wasn’t mentioned at all.

Following my talk with the pupils I met Sara, who was extremely upset.  She felt that stealing the money reflected on her.  The fact that no one seemed to care aggravated her.  “What’s the point in teaching values if it remains in the books and doesn’t affect behaviour?” she asked.  Apparently she was in a dilemma during the lesson, as to whether she should open this discussion with the class, but felt she was too emotional to handle the issue at that time.  She wanted time to consider her actions, and also, she said, if she was to get to the bottom of it, this must be done with no guests in class.

The programme appeared to have taught the pupils certain scientific frameworks that help organise thinking.  They learned that they can experiment with models and search for accuracy in time calculation.  This may be of value as they learn new information and test for validity using science as a critical tool.  The specific lesson I observed provided no information regarding the encouragement of the children towards thought of any kind.  Value education existed on the level of the moral of a folk tale, but was hardly discussed and definitely not questioned. 

Jewish texts were taught both in this lesson and throughout the programme, but although they existed as part of the lesson, the texts had no visible influence on pupils’ behaviour.  The children could take part in Rosh Hodesh prayers and learned the appropriate customs, however there was no evidence of constructive or creative activity that might assist in the transference of such rituals and customs outside the school world.  The programme only provided an opportunity to encounter Jewish texts and customs on an academic level of knowledge.

The missing money is indicative of the gap between taught values and the real world, although we have no idea as to the identity of the person or persons who took it.  For all we know the money could have been taken by a pupil from another class, and even if one of Sara’s pupils was involved, we are not speaking of the entire class.  The very lack of interest on the part of the other pupils was of greater concern.  Although they (or at least some of them) had brought the money for the charity box, they were not bothered by the fact that it was taken.  Sara’s decision to postpone the discussion of the theft so that she had time to consider her strategy was wise.  Yet, at the time, it left the act unanswered.  Some reaction, allowing the pupils to see how she felt about what had happened, may have been appropriate, while actual discussion could still have waited till a later date.  Even notification of this postponement may have aroused the pupils to the idea that this was something about which to be troubled.

This programme, as taught by Sara, seemed to have little effect either on thinking or on value education, be it general values or Jewish values.  It provided an opportunity to introduce a variety of prayers and rituals; however, these rituals were not translated into liveable values, and remained technical acts.  The texts were not used as an opportunity to discuss dilemmas, but were taught and learned as historical texts with which they should be familiar. Taught in such a manner, they contained no real relevant message for contemporary life.  There was also little opportunity for teacher empowerment, since she was not made aware of the programme, only given ready-to-use lesson plans, contrary to the programme’s aims.

Summary:

The First of the Month programme was rejected by many schools, casting a shadow over the assumption that these programmes were the result of requests from the field.  Many teachers failed to see the need for a new programme, and the reasons provided were not convincing. 

This fact is especially interesting since The First of the Month was the first programme published, indicating the organisation’s interest in it.  The weak reception this programme was given by TALI schools, was indicative of the lack of dialogue between centre and periphery in TALI.

Chapter 7: School Initiated Programmes

While examining the programmes TALI prepared for use in schools, I found teachers who had developed their own programmes with their colleagues.  These programmes were a response to a weakness of existing programmes, or a school’s educational initiative.  Two programmes mentioned by the teachers are directly connected to the subject of this research and are therefore included.  The subject of prayers arose in all the schools, however not all schools had allocated lessons for teaching prayers and consequently, not all schools designed special programmes for the teaching of prayers. Two examples of school attempts for the teaching of prayer will be introduced.

An additional programme named Language and Culture was developed in a Tel Aviv TALI school. It seemed a novel way of teaching values, relative, particularistic and universalistic, through an examination of the dynamic relationship between language and culture.  This chapter will introduce the programme and discuss its implementation in school. 

Prayer:

The issue of prayers was raised in every conversation either with teachers or pupils in the TALI school system.  This is TALI ‘s greatest difference from both the state school system and the religious one.  In religious schools prayer is mandatory every morning and is led in an orthodox fashion, with no changes in content or length from any synagogue morning prayer.  In the state schools there is no prayer scheduled or taught, and the complex attitude towards religion in state schools is discussed in Chapter One.  Five years ago some prayer was a mandatory requirement for a school to become part of the TALI network, and children were required to pray either every day or certain days of the week.  The prayers were generally conducted according to Conservative tradition, i.e. boys and girls sit together and girls have egalitarian status with boys in the performance of prayer.  TALI then changed its policy and enabled more schools to join without a commitment to prayer.  Prayer had to be taught but not necessarily practiced in school.

The change of policy does not mean that TALI management changed its mind about the experiencing of rituals, in this case actual prayer.  This is a change demanded at the grassroots level, by parents who wish to add Jewish content to their child’s education, yet fear and oppose any change in lifestyle which religion may cause. TALI management prepared a prayer programme for the first grade pupils, hoping this would help introduce prayer into the curriculum in an unthreatening way.  The programme had not left the editing table at the time of this research, and this fact as well as the extremely young age for which it was being prepared, led to the examination of independent school programmes developed by teachers for use with their specific pupils.

Miriam’s case:

Miriam was introduced earlier in chapter five, as a teacher of the He & She programme.  She taught prayer in a Tel Aviv TALI school, where the vast majority of her pupils were from secular homes.  She characterised the parents’ attitude to any Jewish ritual as negative, and described them as opposed to teaching of the weekly portion of the Torah or prayer.  She recalled her first meeting with the parents where she told them “…there must be a prayer book in any Jewish home’s bookcase. This is part of our heritage.  Without it a person is…nothing.” Miriam is a strong believer in heritage and feels that even if the children, and their parents, do currently view traditional practice pointless or irrelevant (Miriam uses heritage and tradition synonymously) their need for it might arise at any time, and they would feel their studies hadn’t been in vain.  Miriam told about a soldier in a moment of distress; who wanted to experience the comfort of prayer, but didn’t know how to pray.  Miriam continued to express her views on the subject of heritage, stated that that which we are so eager to discard in our own culture, is eagerly adopted by other cultures; referring both to prayers and to the Bible.  “Other cultures recognize a good thing when they see it.  We show little respect to our own culture.” 

She said that her pupils enjoyed the weekly portion of the Torah lessons very much and found them relevant.  Prayer lessons were not really actual prayer, but the study of prayer. It was more like a lesson on life.  She told me of the lesson I would be attending, where the prayer discussed would be “Mode Ani”, a prayer of thanks to the Almighty.  Miriam spoke of prayer as a personal experience, not the collective approach as it appears in the prayer book.  She said she would like her pupils to examine what they had to be grateful for, and go back to the Book to learn how Jews have given thanks for centuries.

Miriam did not have a written programme to teach, but a list of prayers she decided to teach during the school year.  She chose to teach the Morning Prayer, which is based on thanks for being revived after the night’s sleep, and is also the basis for all three daily prayers.  In addition she teaches some Holyday blessings and prayers, a prayer for safe travel and Hagomel, a blessing offered when one is saved from evil. 

The lesson took place in the fifth grade.  Miriam obviously had a very good rapport with her class, and the children were in their seats very quickly after the bell rang.  She started the lesson by speaking of the many things they could be thankful for, and how important it was not to take anything for granted.  She then asked the children to think what they had to be grateful for. They spoke of various things, starting from the mundane and on to their thankfulness for their families, their health etc. They were then asked to write their gratitude in a letter to whoever they felt was responsible for their well-being.  They described what they were thankful for in their letters.

Out of 32 letters in the class, 20 were addressed to the children’s parents, 2 to a supreme power and 10 were directly addressed to God.  The pupils were grateful for many things, starting with their Sony playstations and on to their health or the health of their families.  All pupils expressed their gratitude for health or family matters, such as the birth of a brother or sister.  Twelve of them were also grateful for their possessions.  As instructed, their gratitude was phrased more as a “thank you” letter than a prayer, and was personal.

Figure 8: Who do children thank?

Some of the children read their letters to the class, followed by Miriam’s reading of the prayer “Mode-Ani”, thanking the Lord for giving breath and soul to the body each morning: 

I gratefully thank You 

O living and eternal King,

 for You have returned my soul within me 

with compassion abundant is Your faithfulness!

              (Translation: http://www.foreveryjew.com/child-modeani.html , December 5th, 2002)

Miriam read the prayer as a regular text, without any of the traditional accompanying melodic chants.  The bell rang, marking the end of the lesson before the prayer itself could be discussed.

Critical thinking may have been exercised in this lesson if the pupils had had any opportunity to analyse the “Mode-Ani” prayer; however, this did not happen.  The lesson was creative and most of it was used for the creative writing of a thank you text.  The concept of thanking for what you have, the fact that they were encouraged to think who to thank, and what to be thankful for, demanded creativity.  This creativity cannot be associated with constructive thinking since it did not build on the basic structure of the prayer. Caring thinking was combined with the creative, since the children had to think of what they owed others, what should not be taken for granted, and at the same time they had to be open to hearing what other pupils felt. 

The group interview took place immediately following the lesson and the children began by relating their initial attitude to prayer prior to the lessons had started.  The attitudes expressed were mainly antagonistic; most children said they thought they would actually learn to pray like religious people in synagogues.  The tone they used was derogatory, and they made it quite clear that this was something they opposed.  They spoke of the way Miriam taught the subject as something that had changed their point of view.

Boy 1: It’s not like we learn how to pray. We take one prayer and focus on it. It’s not like in synagogue, where you just say the words.  The words mean something, and Miriam helped us see the real meaning.

Girl 1: We also see the prayers in a national context. At the beginning I thought it was something only religious people had to do, but now I see it’s important because it is part of the Jewish people.  

Boy 2: My parents were raised on a religious kibbutz, but we’re not religious, we don’t observe stuff.  But my grandparents live on the kibbutz and sometimes I visit them, so I was really excited when we started learning prayers.  I enjoy the lessons. 

Girl 2: I was concerned about these lessons at first.  When we bought the prayer book and I opened it at home…it was packed! And there was God everywhere.   But then I discovered the lessons didn’t attack me or try to make me religious or anything like that, just to let me know a bit more about my surroundings.  To get to know the religious people.  Maybe in future we will have something in common religious people and us.

Girl 3: I was very much against these lessons.  I didn’t want to attend.  I thought this was a trick to turn me pious.  I really felt stressed.  Then when the lessons began I realized this was only about requesting stuff, asking for help.  Before you ask for something you have to be nice and say good things.  That’s all.

Most of the children’s’ initial attitude to prayer was negative, and they thought of prayer as part of the religious, Orthodox world. Some of their statements mirrored attitudes that are prevalent in extremely secular communities, of an almost paranoid antipathy to anything associated with religion.  They all seemed to change their attitudes once the actual lessons began, and in their statements this change was attributed to a thought provoking lesson plan, an intellectual approach to prayer. Their description implied the use of the four different forms of thinking examined by this thesis:

Critical thinking was used in analysing the text and learning to unfold the meaning behind the actual words, the idea or value the prayer attempted to express.    According to the pupils creative and caring thinking took place in many lessons resembling the one I had attended.  Constructive thinking was present where pupils could, as they said, “…express our views whether the prayer was still necessary and what could be changed to make it still relevant nowadays.”

The surprising part of this interview was that not only did the pupils change their attitudes towards the prayer texts, but also the actual concept of prayer was no longer a threat.  One of the pupils compared prayers to reading a book.  The first chapters may not be very exciting, but as you continue to read you get caught up in the plot.  They spoke of prayers in a positive way, and even expressed a willingness to have some school prayers.  Some spoke of prayers they had witnessed when pupils from the American twin school had visited, and said they liked joining in with them. 

When asked what their reaction would be if the school were to decide on weekly prayers, all but one expressed a willingness to take part.  Some said they would really like actually doing things, instead of just talking about them.  Another said it would be a good thing to have mandatory prayer, since it would help children get started, and allow them to join in regardless of peer pressure.  “Some children are too shy, they need some help to try it, and then they may like it.”  Others thought it would be good if there were prayers in school, but they would prefer to be allowed to choose whether to join in or not.  All but one said they thought they would pray, at least try it out.  They seemed excited about the prospect, and one girl actually wondered if this was a genuine possibility. 

A girl, the one Miriam had claimed was the most antagonistic towards the idea of prayer at the beginning of the year, suggested that praying, combined with the understanding of the meaning of the prayers in the lesson, might lead to a better understanding of religious people.  Her friends agreed with her, and added that they talked a lot in school about tolerance towards other people’s views, and this would be a wonderful opportunity to genuinely appreciate other people’s way of life. 

Throughout the discussion one pupil remained opposed to the idea of school prayer.  He was quiet during most of the discussion, yet it was clear when he spoke that he thought prayer was what separated this TALI school from a religious school, and had he or his parents wanted a religious education they would have chosen a religious school.  He could accept prayers as an additional school activity if one could choose to attend or not, and said he would definitely choose not to attend. 

The pupil’s reactions toward prayer were quite different from those expressed by their teacher.  The strong antagonism towards rituals such as prayer anticipated by the teacher, was missing in the pupils’ discussion.  In contrast to their teacher, the pupils expressed an interest in trying religious practices in school.  The pupils’ statements indicated that this was the result of prayer lessons, which were interesting and thought provoking.  Nearly all of them expressed an initial negative approach to prayer, an approach that changed as they learned more.  However, this did not mean that there was no opposition to prayer within the school community.  The parents were not interviewed, and there is no reason to assume a change in their attitude, since they played no active role in the process of learning prayer.  

This apparent success of prayer lessons is especially surprising, since there was no real programme for these lessons.  Miriam had a list of prayers she had wanted to teach, and planned her lessons as she went along, with no grand design to follow.  This may be attributed both to Miriam’s teaching, which centred on underlying values and ideas, and to the pupils’ genuine need for a stronger sense of belonging.   The indisputable fact remains that pupils reported a change in their attitude, and that they spoke of an intellectual as well as an emotional change.

Hana’s Case

Hana is a Jerusalem schoolteacher and the TALI coordinator introduced in chapter five.  She taught the fourth grade all Jewish studies subjects, and was happy to let me observe how she taught prayer.  Hana felt the need for a six-year plan of prayer book teaching, and, like Miriam, made her own programme as she went along.  Initially, she was supposed to teach one prayer lesson a week.  She claimed she thought this was too much for the children, that prayers were irrelevant to their lives, and so she only started teaching when approaching a Holyday.  She said that pupils then asked for prayer lessons and she realised that although she had thought they were indifferent to these lessons, they missed them once she stopped teaching them. 

Hana felt that TALI schools should develop a good six-year programme for teaching prayers.  Also, she was concerned with the language barrier created by the vocabulary used in ancient Hebrew.  It is important to note that the parents of the Jerusalem school differ from those of the north Tel Aviv one in their attitude to religious practices.  While the Jerusalem parents tend to call themselves secular, Hana didn’t encounter any antagonism to the teaching of prayer.  She complained, however, about lack of cooperation on the part of the parents.

I feel that genuine learning has to come from inside me. If it makes no change I haven’t done anything.  If I teach the children about a prayer book and at home no one ever opens it, I haven’t taught anything.  It remains irrelevant, dead knowledge.

She spoke of her attempts to organise parent study groups on Jewish studies and complained about the lack of interest and the extremely low attendance rate.  Hana also complained about TALI headquarters, which allowed schools to join with few prerequisite standards for Jewish content.  She felt that parents chose a TALI school because it was considered a specialised school, not because they wanted any Jewish content for their children.  She claimed that had TALI made clearer demands, the parents might have made the choice for the right reasons.  Hana spoke admiringly of Frenkel, the first TALI school, famous for parental involvement.  She told me that in her school she had organised study sessions for parents and children, so parents could become acquainted with what their child was learning and could reinforce school work at home, and complained about the painfully low attendance at those sessions. She envied the religious schools,

Let us say that school would encourage children to fulfil precepts, and at home parents would be opposed to this. Where does this leave me? In religious schools there is no such thing!  The parents know this, the teachers know, the pupils know.  You can’t change a thing.  Here there is always confusion.

Her expressed disappointment with the parents of her pupils was very different from Miriam’s apologetic assurance to the pupils that she had no intention of “making them religious.”  Hana made no excuses; she taught prayers with the intention of using them in class.  She is not a religious person herself, and although she teaches prayers at school, she considers faith a personal issue.  When asked how she taught prayers without dealing with faith she said she taught prayers as part of Jewish heritage and culture. 

Praying in school was not about faith but about knowing your roots.  You shouldn’t be an ignoramus; you should know what to do if you happen to be in a synagogue.

The lesson began with the children discussing what prayer meant to them.   Hana’s pupils were eager to tell, many hands were up waiting their turn.  They spoke of riding a bicycle outside a synagogue on The Day of Atonement and hearing prayers through the window, of visiting grandparents, of special occasions.  Prayer for them was associated with festive occasions, not the daily routine of three prayers.  Many children spoke of hearing prayers outside through a window, hearing someone praying at a distance.  It is important to note that no pupil spoke negatively about prayers, which may indicate that although the pupils who spoke were estranged from, or at least distant to, prayer, they were not antagonistic towards the concept.

Hana stopped the discussion and reminded them of a Native American prayer she had taught them lately, then introduced  “Ma Tovu”, a prayer praising the house of God.  The pupils were asked to think of questions they would like to ask after reading the title of the prayer.  The pupils were as eager to provide questions, as they were to report their connection with prayer. 

Ma Tovu (What Goodness, or How Lovely)

How lovely are your tents, O Jacob,

 your dwelling-places, O Israel!

In your abundant loving kindness, O God,

let me enter your house,

reverently to worship in Your holy temple. 

Adonai, I love Your house,

 the place where Your glory dwells.

So I would worship with humility

I would seek blessing in the presence of God, my maker. 

To You, then, Adonai, does my prayer go forth.

May this be a time of joy and favour.

In Your great love, O God, answer me with Your saving truth.

(Translation, http://uahcweb.org/congs/ot/ot014/myosb/Prayers/matovu.html, December 5^th, 2002)

It is apparent from the English translation that the prayer doesn’t use everyday modern language structures, and that many words and phrases need to be explained.  The questions the children asked dealt both with the actual words, using reading comprehension skills, and with the concept of prayer.  Some of the questions asked were:

What does the word goodness mean here?  What is good about the tents?

Why is the prayer called “What Goodness”?

When is this prayer offered? (Hana asked the pupil how he thought of this question from the title alone, to which he replied he knew prayers were used at different times, so he wanted to know the appropriate time for this one).

Where is this prayer said?

What is the person praying for? Is he thankful? Is he making a request?

Every question was written on the board, together with the name of the pupil who asked it.  Hana asked the pupils to pay attention and see whether their questions were answered by the end of the lesson.  She then drew their attention to the form of the prayer and asked them what they could see from the shape of the lines.  The pupils recognised the shape of a poem, with some rhyming.  Another pupil wanted to ask a question, but Hana told him question time was over. 

Hana asked the children what kind of prayer they thought this was, and they called it a prayer of thanks. The last prayer they had learned was “Mode Ani”, (I gratefully thank You).  Several times Hana tried to ask the pupils what made them come to this conclusion, until finally she equated their understanding of gratefulness with the emotion of amazement described in the prayer.  She then asked them what they thought he might have been amazed by, could it perhaps be that he was in awe of God’s house?  Following agreement on the part of her pupils, Hana went on to ask the children for all expressions describing God’s house. 

There was no genuine connection between the answers the pupils gave describing the meaning of the prayer and the actual meaning.  They seemed very eager to participate, yet unable to understand the meaning of the prayer.  It seems quite logical that when you say something is good, you are thankful for it, so that the conclusion some of the children came to was not entirely impossible.  The leap to another concept, that of the grandeur of God and everything about Him, including the place of worship, was not at all easy.  Hana tried to overcome this difficulty by using skills like the search for synonyms, which helped her later on in clarifying the central concepts. 

There was far less participation as the lesson progressed, as though the children had lost interest.  Hana wrote the main points of the prayer on the board as though they were drawn from what pupils said, however, it became clear she was choosing points to serve the purpose of the lesson and rejecting ideas she either thought wrong or didn’t like.  The pupils’ earlier desire to please their teacher seemed to give way to silence.  One or two pupils continued their dialogue with Hana, while the others, copied very quietly from the board. 

Hana: What name do we have here describing the synagogue, the house of God?

Pupil 1: Your holy temple, the place where Your glory dwells.

Pupil 2: I would seek blessing.

Hana: We spoke of names for a synagogue…

Pupil 2: Yes, I seek blessing where God is.

Hana: True, but we are speaking about names for a synagogue.  [Turns to write the synonymous words on the board].

Pupil 2: So I seek blessing…[Hana doesn’t react].

Hana: To whom is the person praying?

Pupil 1: God.

Hana: Yes, of course, but when will a person say these things?

Pupil 2: When he feels good.

Hana: Yes, but when.  See how many times the synagogue is mentioned.

Pupil 2:  When he gets up.

Pupil 1: In the morning.

Pupil 3: I think this needs to be said when you come into synagogue or when you build a new one. 

Hana: Good! When you come into synagogue in the morning!

Pupil 3: Also when you build a new one.  [Hana ignores his last statement, writes the first one on the board].

Pupil 3 insisted throughout the discussion that this prayer was suitable for the building of a new synagogue, and the prayer itself does not contradict this.  It is part of the morning service, and pupil 3, while making a logical observation, did not know the correct answer.  The possibility of a single correct answer is problematic, since in TALI, where new and renewed practices are introduced all the time, there are generally more possibilities.  A single possible correct answer is limiting as well as a block in the way of any productive thinking. Both the structure of the class discussion, centralising around the teacher, and the very careful choice of what will go on the board, and consequently in the pupils’ notebooks and in the test, ensured the predetermined correct answers.

By this stage of the lesson no more than four out of the thirty children in class were involved.  Hana explained the remainder of the prayer, and reached the final line where the person praying asks God for an answer to his prayers.  She asked the pupils what they thought a person could ask for, and once again the class became active.  The pupils seemed to respond well to open ended questions where they knew all their suggestions would be accepted.  Also, whenever they were asked to speak on relevant issues, they were happy to contribute.  The grandeur of God’s house was probably less relevant to their lives.  Hana then asked them each to write their prayer, and what they would ask God to answer.  The pupils busily started writing their wishes and desires up to the end of the lesson, and were told to continue the assignment at home.

As they were working they spoke of their wishes.  There were some extraordinary ones such as “there should be real Pokemons in the world”, however, most wished for toys and other material goods, and some wished for things for their families such as health and livelihood.  In her instructions Hana told the pupils that this was where they could let their imaginations fly.  Thus, she emphasised the difference between the two parts of the lesson.  In the first part, which required listening and understanding, without necessarily taking an active part in the lesson the pupils learned a new text and were required to understand it on the level of reading comprehension.  This was part of TALI’s educational agenda, although it was not based on a specific programme, of learning Jewish texts, especially those in the prayer book.  The children were encouraged to understand the text on their own, however their reaction indicated a distancing of the text from them.  The second part of the lesson was, as Hana put it, a creative part, and the pupils seemed more eager to participate.  It remains to be examined whether this part of the lesson consisted of creative thinking, or of an opportunity for self-expression.  In the course of a creative thinking activity it is to be expected that children will have some new understanding, some developing thought.  When the activity is an opportunity to express oneself, it may be enjoyable yet not necessarily involve growth:  

We won’t do children a great favour by inviting them to paint in the watercolours of philosophy if we don’t allow them to do so with their own paper, colours and brushes – above all with their own way of painting and of conceiving the art of painting.  It may very well be that they enjoy working with our brushes and our colours…What children need from us…is space for them to think, and therefore to create. (Kohan, 1999, pp.7-8)

The concept of the grandeur of God’s dwellings belongs to a different world.  The attempt Hana made, of creating a dialogue with God about what makes sense today is an attempt to draw the pupils closer to the concepts which creates the prayer rather than the prayer itself, which is completely irrelevant to the pupils’ worlds. 

Five boys and one girl participated in the group interview following this lesson.  They all felt it was important to study prayers, yet all but one said they did not like the lessons.  When asked why it was important to learn prayers they all spoke of the practical need that may arise if they happen to go into a synagogue.  When asked whether they would like to actually pray in school their answer was positive, however, the reasons they gave were not indicative of a positive attitude to prayer.  One pupil said he would like to pray because that would take time away from lessons, and he would enjoy wasting time.  The others in the group didn’t agree with him.  One pupil expressed a different opinion, and said that had he wanted a religious school he would have gone to one.  Two spoke of the “funny” movements religious people make when praying, and joked about the combination of physical education and Jewish studies.  Another pupil expressed an interest in prayers at school, but he wanted them to be limited, or in his words “I don’t want to have to say a blessing every five minutes, like when I eat something.” 

I have stated earlier that there was no official TALI prayer programme at that time, and each school decided how to handle this subject individually.  The official TALI approach to prayer was originally more rigid, and TALI schools were expected to conduct prayers several times a week, thus enabling pupils to not only get acquainted with the text but also with the ritual.  Their schools today are required to teach prayer yet not necessarily practice it, and there are no guidelines provided.  The two teachers described here found their way of dealing with prayer, mainly as a text to be understood, with the underlying assumption that understanding the text may bring it closer to the pupil’s world.  The children’s attitudes in the Tel Aviv school examined seem to point to a certain success, yet in this Jerusalem school the children remained estranged as is apparent both from the reaction in the classroom and from the answers provided in the group interview.

Language and Culture

Another school-initiated programme is one mentioned in chapter three, a programme dealing with language and culture.  This is a unique development of a Tel Aviv TALI school, and does not reflect on any other TALI school, however, since this programme deals openly with the issue of multiculturalism, and one of the cultures dealt with is Judaism, it provides a glimpse at the schools attitude towards pluralism and towards Judaism specifically.

This special lesson is taught by two teachers, who share a command of Arabic, English and Jewish Studies.  Each of these subjects is taught separately as well, so the teachers are aware of the level of knowledge the pupils have in each of the areas.  The lesson deals with the “essence of language as a mirror of reality and the importance of communication as a means of social existence” (my translation, from the programme rationale).  The subtext of the lesson is that a good lexical and grammatical command of language is not sufficient for efficient communication and may even lead to embarrassing situations.

Dvora heads the culture and language programme in the TALI elementary school in Tel Aviv.  She is one of the senior teachers in the school, having been a homeroom teacher for many years, has just completed her studies for an MA degree at the Jewish Theological Seminary.  She felt she had learned much about Judaism in addition to her earlier BA in Middle Eastern Studies.  She explained that today, not only TALI but in accordance with a more general Ministry of Education policy, schools are becoming increasingly autonomous, competitive to be uniquely attractive to pupils and parents.  In her opinion, this provides the school and its teachers an opportunity to personalise curricula to its pupils’ needs.  This is a grassroots operation, not top-down.  She none the less felt that top-down programmes were not so different, in that they too went through a process of adjustment, which tailored them to each school’s particular needs. The programme was outgrowth of the belief that language could not be studied apart from culture, and therefore culture should be an integral part of the curriculum.  Pupils study Japanese art in first grade, and Jewish culture in second grade, when they also begin Torah lessons.  In the third grade they return to Japanese culture for a more in-depth approach.  In the fourth grade they learn about English-speaking culture, and in the fifth grade they go back to Jewish culture in-depth as they approach the age of twelve, the Bat Mitzvah.  In the sixth grade they learn Arabic culture.  The school found there was a separation between the language teachers and the homeroom teachers.  Culture lessons were the responsibility of homeroom teachers; language teachers showed no interest in them.  This is where the specific subject of language and culture came in.  Topics such as idioms or folk tales were chosen, through which a comparative study of language and culture was possible.  The lesson was taught from the fourth grade to the sixth, after the children had acquired some English, having started in first grade, and were just beginning to learn Arabic.

It was apparent that Dvora felt strongly about the programme and she seemed to be making a speech rather than having a conversation.  She gave me examples from lessons, spoke excitedly about the importance of culture, and read to me from the written programme.  She spoke of the relevance of the programme to the pupils and how they seemed to like it.   This subject was an opening to all her interdisciplinary dreams, and she was glad to tell me about her plan to teach the subject of leadership as a product of culture, a new integrative project combining lessons such as History or Bible.  Child welfare in different cultures was another topic she wanted to try and structure as an interdisciplinary approach at a later stage. 

She felt language and culture lessons provided her pupils with an atmosphere of acceptance and a sense of commonality among people.  Terrorist attacks had no influence on this lesson. Children seemed to be able to separate their feelings toward Arab suicide bombers from their attitude towards Arab culture.  The lesson dealt with themes in culture, not with current events. Dvora claimed she would gain nothing from linking the lesson with current events.  She said that although her personal political views were right wing, and she believed strongly in a tough approach towards Palestinian Arabs, she wanted the news kept out of her classroom.  When asked whether the suicide bombers were not a part of Arab culture she explained that her definition of culture consisted of human creation in each society, not everything that was done within society.  As a result of her lessons she wanted her pupils to become more knowledgeable about their own culture, and more open to accept and respect other cultures.  This lesson provided a universal approach, not only a Jewish prism to life.  The approach to different cultures was not judgemental, and it enabled pupils to arrive at different ideas that had not even been considered by the teachers. 

I attended a sixth grade lesson, thirty-two pupils about half of whom were boys and half girls.  The lesson took place about three weeks before graduation, after the pupils had completed six years of TALI education, and were familiar with the language and culture programme.  The lesson was taught by Dvora, who was responsible for the Arabic and Jewish content, and by Amira, the English teacher, and it expanded on previously studied folk tales about parent-child relationships in different cultures.  The first part of the lesson was a dramatisation of these tales.  A large number of pupils took part in the dramatisation.  They had brought costumes in advance, and the atmosphere in the classroom was joyful and everyone seemed to be having fun.  The presentations were held in the language of the folk tales, Arabic, English or Hebrew.  Following the show, Dvora asked which cultural elements were found in the folk tales, that were specific to the culture it came from. 

The discussion of the cultural signifiers dealt with etymological and morphological linguistics.  Each image or idiom was matched with its equivalent in another culture and compared.  Structurally, the discussion led both by Amira and by Dvora followed the classic format of teacher asking – pupil responding – teacher reacting to pupil’s response, as can be seen in the following:

Dvora: What did we notice reoccurred in the Arab tale?

Pupil: Proverbs.

Dvora: Yes, proverbs, and what else?

Pupil:  Blessings.

Dvora: Yes, That’s right. What else?

Pupil:  All sorts of idioms and expressions.

Dvora:  Good!  Can you repeat some of the blessings or idioms?

Pupils speak together, eager to participate

Dvora: That’s right!  Now, what can we learn of a language if it has so many idioms and blessings?  That the language is very what?

Pupil: That they have a rich language.

Twice the teachers had a discussion between themselves in front of the pupils, who seemed to be listening.  These discussions did not constitute disagreement, but they were occasions to add information.  The teachers used terms like: Did you notice also another element?  Perhaps you would also like to mention that…

The pupils were seriously involved in the lesson, both in acting the different folk tales and in responding to the teachers’ questions; yet there was no single issue they were required to ponder about, analyse or debate.  The literary characteristics of folk tales were not discussed, and although the Arab and Jewish folk tales definitely belonged to the genre, the American one seemed to be more of an educational anecdote.  In spite of this, it was a thoroughly enjoyable lesson, providing pupils with much information regarding the connections between languages and the culture in which they are spoken, making pupils more aware of the origins of language and expressions. 

Towards the end of the lesson, however, Dvora pointed out that Arab culture treated fathers as God, this being far from the Jewish approach which also commands respect, yet treats fathers as human, not Godlike.  This, she claimed, was a far more humane approach.  While not disagreeing with her that such an approach is, perhaps, more humane, I must add that her finding regarding Jewish culture is unfounded.  Many Rabbinical writings refer to the fifth commandment explaining it to be the result of an understanding that parents are one’s creators, and so, must be treated with respect, like God.  This is a source of similarity between cultures, not difference.  As the bell rang to end the lesson, she concluded saying that:

You will notice that for us (the Jews) the father is not in God’s status.  This makes it human; the relationship is between human beings, a person with his parents.  God is… there (Signalling towards the distance through the window).  In our culture it is much more human.  They (the Arabs) place the father as God.  This is a completely different approach.

While the entire lesson provided a chance to glimpse at cultures in a respectful and non-judgemental way, these last few words framed Arab culture as providing a background on which Jewish culture could appear to be superior.  The fact that the teacher’s conclusion was mistaken is of little importance, since it is the attitude that counts.  Although the overt pedagogy of the language and culture curriculum is non-judgemental, pluralistic ideology, the hidden curriculum seems to add ethnocentric resonance.

Three boys and three girls were interviewed, and all of them stressed how they liked this lesson, and how they felt it was important to know the Other, as one boy said, in order to know yourself.  They also stated it was especially important to learn about Islamic culture at the time, which was the first year of the Al Aqsa Intifada. 

Girl: Instead of thinking all the time “we’re good, they’re bad,” which seems to be a very silly thing to think, also because everyone thinks differently about the subject, we should be more interested in learning about this culture, it’s also more interesting than “we’re good, they’re bad.”  The fact that everyone claims the other is bad makes it essential to research the other’s culture, because we’re always saying things and never listening to the other.

Boy: What we see now is mainly the point of view of the Jihad, the terrorists.  When I learn about marriage customs or proverbs I see they are people too, and not all their life is Jihad and terrorism.  

This interview took place two weeks after a horrific attack on a Tel Aviv discotheque killing twenty-one teenagers and wounding many dozens.  The Israeli public was more traumatised by this attack than previous ones.  Singling out high school pupils on Friday night and blowing them up was too horrible for words.  Israeli television continued to produce programmes about the short life stories of the murdered youngsters and their families, most of whom were immigrants from the former USSR. 

The metaphor used by many of the pupils was that of a bridge.  As one girl put it:

We live down below and the bridge is above. Everything is about the situation, down, we live in the situation.  Language and Culture avoids that, it doesn’t go under, it doesn’t speak about the situation, it overtakes it.  You can dream, you can research the culture, and the culture is beautiful, you could even feel connected to it.  

All pupils agreed that even though the situation was extremely bad, and Arab suicide bombers scared and horrified them, they liked these lessons.  They felt that the lessons added a dimension to the way they perceived the situation in Israel.  They spoke of fear and anger on the Palestinian side as well, and of the lesson as a way to better understand the other.  One boy said he would be happy if he knew the Arabs were learning about Jewish culture, because he thought building understanding would be through children. 

This may not lead to anything big like a peace agreement, but you could see that the other side is very much like your own.  But then I finish school, go home and hear the news, and other ideas come to mind during the day other than Language and Culture.  

The programme was initiated in the school when there were hopes for peace, following the first Intifada.  No doubt the new situation posed difficulties, since, as the children noted, current events separated the lessons from everyday life.  As one girl stated, it even gave them a chance to dream.  Reality was terrible, and these lessons seemed to serve the purpose of not losing hope, remembering there must be an end to horror.  The lesson did not deal with current events at all, it allowed pupils to see that a culture was many faceted, and terrorism was only one facet.

Indeed the lesson I monitored did not seem to encourage much thinking or raise any real conflicts or dilemmas.  Yet, the context of the situation in Israel offered many opportunities for different forms of thinking and for challenging stereotypes.  Critical thinking was employed by pupils when they denigrated the child-like attitude of “we’re good and they’re bad,” and claimed more sophisticated ideas were needed.  Empathy was apparent in many of their statements, demonstrating a high level of caring thinking, sympathising not only with the victims, as would be expected, but willing to see the hardships of the Arabs. 

Constructive thinking was perhaps the most striking element in this interview, since pupils expressed their opinions that lessons such as this could become an instrument of change.  They realised this hope was premature, and did not claim it could immediately be used to gain all possible advantages, yet they recommended it as part of an approach towards changing current events.

Summary:

This chapter dealt with two school initiated programmes which shed light on more independently developed angles within the TALI school network, both in terms of their interpretation of TALI headquarters policy and in terms of the school’s specific needs.

The Prayer curricula designed by teachers for use in their classrooms were not planned as thought provoking activities, but as introductions to cultural elements.  Both prayers and the First of the Month programme were directly aimed at the pupil’s Jewish identity, at enriching her knowledge with the belief that this would reinforce a sense of belonging.  

The Language and Culture programme designed at a Tel Aviv school was different, since Jewish culture was not the central theme.  The content of the lesson was intentionally removed from everyday life, however this distancing did not make it irrelevant.  Pupils naturally drew their own connections by trying to resolve the dissonance between the Arabs they heard about on the news and the Arab culture they met in class.

In Chapter Five I questioned the relevance of the He & She programme to Jewish identity.  The prayer programme deals with this issue directly, and it is only the culture programme that discusses issues of pluralism.

There is some initial analysis of the data presented in chapter five, six and here, constituting a critical commentary, based mainly on my research journal.  Further discussion and analysis, both in terms of Jewish identity and in terms of promotion of thought is due, and will be dealt with in the next chapter.

Chapter 8: Data Analysis

Bernstein’s (1973) analysis of educational knowledge as a major regulator of the structure of experience is to be realised through three message systems: curriculum, pedagogy and evaluation.  In this way, he says, a society controls the maintaining and transmitting of that knowledge which it deems valid. 

Curriculum defines what counts as valid knowledge, pedagogy defines what counts as valid transmission of knowledge, and evaluation defines what counts as a valid realization of this knowledge on the part of the taught. (363)

Bernstein’s terminology will assist in the analysis of the TALI programmes in this research.  By using his three definitions we can examine what is considered to be valid knowledge and who makes this decision, how pedagogy is dealt with and what kind of evaluation, if any, takes place.

The curricula produced, either by TALI headquarters or by teachers, are vital to the understanding of what is considered valuable knowledge by the TALI organisation.  The producer of curricula is also important, since that indicates who decides what is valued in school, and therefore must be part of the pupils’ education.  The degree of teachers’ involvement in curricula will reflect on their involvement in its implementation.  Such involvement is not merely a technical motivational tool; it determines the philosophy behind the organisation, the educational ideology that leads to a curriculum.

Teachers’ methods of teaching, and the pedagogy they use, whether intuitively or deliberately, reflect their beliefs in a valid transmission of knowledge, and are an indication of the organisation’s attitude to such transmission.  If this level is neglected, and as the data indicates, little is done to discuss pedagogy, this may imply that the organisation expects transmission to take care of itself.  This may be the reason for an incomplete cycle of knowledge maintenance.

Pupils’ identities and their attitude to Jewish as well as universal values are important gauges of TALI’s achievements.  Many TALI documents have described their ideal graduate in terms of the values she has internalised.  The pupils’ positions may be evaluated on that basis to assess the degree of success. 

TALI (Enhanced Jewish Studies) strives to give pupils a Jewish, Zionist and Democratic education, in an open atmosphere and in the spirit of our times, through cooperation of parents and educators.  This education aspires to forge a personality of wide horizons, whose world consists of levels of Jewish heritage and levels of general culture, and provides its pupils with the will and the tools for coping with the Jewish people’s existentialist questions.

(TALI Principles, http://www.schechter.org.il/tali/principles.htm, December 6^th, 2002, Appendix 4).

The organisation’s failure to produce an evaluative measure is also indicative of their unfounded belief that curriculum is the only element needed in order to achieve the organisation’s goals.  This chapter will portray the gaps between curriculum, pedagogy and evaluation as they appear in the examined TALI programmes.

Before analysing the four programmes according to curriculum, pedagogy and evaluation, it is important to attend to TALI ideology and who participates in discussions and dialogues, provided they take place, in the organisation.

Educational Philosophy:

TALI’s principles need to be examined in order that we might see how they are dealt with in curricula.  Of the eight TALI principles quoted in chapter four, only one speaks openly of religious rituals.  Yet, even here the words “ritual” and “religion” do not appear.  The organisation uses “culture” or “experiencing” to replace religious terms.

Jewish education in learning and experience:  Transmitting of knowledge and skills that will enable the pupils to develop a rich Jewish identity, both modern and personal.  The encouragement of the experiential foundation of Judaism such as Holydays, prayers, the welcoming of the Sabbath, benevolence; coping with the issue of the status, vitality and application of Judaism in modern Israeli society.                                

(TALI principles, no. 2, http://www.schechter.org.il/tali/principles.htm, December 6^th, 2002)

The other seven principles of TALI education deal with

1.  Prioritising Jewish education.

2.  Educating towards humanistic values.

3. Democracy.

4.  Zionism.

5. Pluralism and solidarity.

6.  Triggering community learning.

7.  Integration.

Religion is not directly mentioned, and is referred to as an experiential element.   The organisation considers it important to give pupils an opportunity to experience certain rituals and cope with the issue of their relevance in modern Israeli society.  There is no opportunity for rejection of rituals, at least not in terms of the principles provided by TALI. 

Another way of referring to religion is the term “culture”, which serves to discuss ritual, ancient texts as well as modern Hebrew writings.  The word “religion” is avoided in all TALI documentation, and the organisation does not consider itself religious.  Religion and culture are indistinguishable in traditional societies, however the voluntary nature of religion in modernity and the elevation of rationality, separates religion from culture.

The ideal graduate of TALI is not religious, yet when discussing the origins of Jewish heritage one inevitably speaks of religion.  Failure to speak of religion openly is not an accident; “experience” and “culture” are more palatable to the non-religious public.  We are introduced to a choice of euphemistic terminology rather than genuine confrontation; this seems to be a governing element in TALI education.  Headquarters avoid alienating teachers and headteachers; teachers and headteachers avoid alienating parents and pupils.  Avoiding confrontation may, of course, bring more pupils and teachers to TALI schools; however, it may also provide an explanation for the alienation of both teachers and pupils from religious texts or rituals. This evasion is also problematic in the way it sets an example for officials and teachers to avoid conflict and by using euphemist non-committing terminology. 

Yet not referring to religion and ritual directly in no way minimises its prevalence within the TALI curriculum.  This is what TALI headquarters consider important knowledge.  It is well insulated from what is considered everyday community knowledge for most pupils (Bernstein, 1973), since as I have discussed in the context chapter, the religious experience offered by TALI differs from the majority’s religious experience in Israel.  This is not the only insulated element within the TALI curriculum.  There is a clear compartmentalisation of subjects, and TALI subjects are allotted two weekly hours.  The schools monitored here keep this separation clear among different subjects, even if taught by the same teacher. 

The well insulated nature of the programmes, combined with the extremely central role of headquarters as the determiner of what is valued knowledge places TALI within the collection knowledge code, although, as I have previously mentioned, the organisation prides itself on its integrated nature.  The strength of frame will assist in further analysis of TALI programmes.

Curricula:

Taking into account the organisation’s desired graduate, as described in the TALI principles, the collection type curriculum was to be expected.  In order to reach its goal, a curriculum should provide a pupil with diverse contents from a variety of disciplines, all of which play an important role in the graduate’s personality.  Bernstein claims that the collection curriculum contains well-insulated contents. The learner, he states, has to collect favoured knowledge in order to fulfil expectations.  He adds that the integrated curriculum juxtaposes the collection type, and is manifested through a lower degree of insulation between different disciplines studied.  The integrated curriculum will have a stronger leaning to interdisciplinary approaches in education.  Bernstein’s classification makes no reference to the actual contents studied, only to the boundaries between them.

TALI prides itself on the interdisciplinary nature of the programmes. All curricula discussed here, including those prepared by teachers, are interdisciplinary programmes by nature, and yet the result wished for by the organisation demands a collection of different types of valued knowledge.  This, of course, raises the question of whether the goal that TALI claims it aims for is truly the one it strives to achieve.  Curriculum classification indicates otherwise.  The interdisciplinary approach is extremely powerful in achieving a broader understanding of a subject from many angles.  The possibility of many approaches is appreciated by TALI, and may be understood as the promotion of tolerance, a concept and a value TALI rates highly. However, the knowledgeable graduate, who is well acquainted with Jewish culture and world culture, is not necessarily the natural outcome of an integrated curriculum.

Classification, in Bernstein’s terminology seems to raise a problem regarding the structure of the curriculum vis-à-vis the desirable outcome, even before dealing with the amount of time allocated to different contents within the curriculum.  An analysis of the curricula in question reveals that the proportion between different elements in the programme also indicates a discrepancy between the declared goals of the curriculum and the hidden curriculum.  An examination of the He & She programme reveals that five of the seven units deal with Jewish religious texts.  The first and the last units deal with non-religious subjects, stereotypes and love, and they use contemporary Hebrew literature.  A detailed examination of different sources of texts in the He & She programme follows.

Another term used in Bernstein’s analysis is important here, the issue of framing, which refers to the degree of insulation between what may be transmitted and what may not.  The strength of frames is relevant to the understanding of the boundary between what is considered educational knowledge and what is everyday knowledge, therefore irrelevant to school studies.  The more external knowledge is allowed into the classroom, the stronger is pupils’ influence on what is considered valuable knowledge.  When everyday community knowledge is excluded, teachers’ have control over the selection, organisation and pacing of knowledge.

The strength of classification and of frames serve in the creation of a typology of educational knowledge codes in Bernstein’s analysis.  He differentiates between a collection educational code, which results from strong classification, and the integrated educational code, where classification is reduced.  Within each code he makes a distinction between different types.  The collection code includes specialised and non-specialised types, the degree of specialisation reflected in the number of closed content external tests, such as A levels in England or the matriculations in Israel.

The integrated code refers to the subordination of previously separate fields of knowledge to a new concept or idea.  This can be seen either in the individual teacher using her allotted lessons in an integrative way, so that she does not teach Bible for two hours and Literature for one, but allows for a free flow of ideas between the two, using a common topic to involve the two and teach them simultaneously.   Another way of teaching the integrated code involves a group of teachers interacting to teach a topic.  Although classification in integrated knowledge code is on the whole weaker, there may be varieties in classification and frame here too.

Figure 9: Text Division: He & She.

These figures emphasise the leaning the programme has towards Jewish texts, mainly those of a religious nature.  Only two of the forty-one texts belong to world culture rather than Jewish culture. These findings are especially surprising since the programme deals with gender issues, and does not necessarily have to be understood within the Jewish context alone. 

I have mentioned earlier that these programmes were designed for modular use, and teachers were not expected to use them in their entirety.  None the less, the overwhelmingly high number of religious texts implies that the teachers’ choices would inevitably be from those texts, seeing that practically no other options were made available. 

The sources of the texts in the “Rosh Hodesh” programme are divided as follows in the table:

Figure 10: Text Division: First of the Month:

There are a number of possible explanations for these findings.  It could be argued that since the First of the Month programme deals with the Hebrew calendar it has no need for general texts.  This argument is invalid, since this programme has an entire unit devoted to other calendars, in which different types of Hebrew calendars of ancient times are introduced, while the Moslem calendar and the Gregorian calendar are mentioned, yet unaccompanied by text or picture. 

TALI makes no secret of its aim to enhance familiarity with Jewish traditional and religious texts, yet it proclaims in the introductory chapter of the First of the Month programme that

The first day of the month is not only a Jewish Holyday; it combines concepts and beliefs of different cultures.  In this booklet you are invited to consider time terminology in human culture; we will attempt to learn the place of the annual calendar in world cultures…(my translation, Rotkovits, 2000, p.7).

This claim remains unfulfilled, at least in terms of the two programmes examined, and although it is understood that the proportion of Jewish texts would be higher in an ideological organisation such as TALI, the preponderance of religious texts causes one to question its genuine commitment to universal values.

The picture remains similar when examining prayer programmes designed by teachers and school staff.  There too, the vast majority of texts are of Jewish religious origin.  Although it is legitimate that a programme designed to teach the Jewish prayer book would use prayers as texts, prayer could have been introduced in a broader framework, using other religions as examples.  There is some reference to prayers of other cultures as a source of comparison, however, the main focus is on is the Sidur, the Jewish prayer book. 

The only exception I found was in the language and culture programme, which was originally designed for promotion of universal values.  The texts there were divided equally among Jewish, Arab and English language texts, without preference to any culture in quantity or quality of texts. This finding, combined with the integrative classification of the curriculum, raise a question as to the declared image of the desired TALI graduate.  If universal values are not the actual intention, although so declared, and if the graduate should be well versed in Jewish religious texts and values, then perhaps there is no need for a collection curriculum.  Preceding the preparation of curriculum a discussion should take place regarding TALI’s educational philosophy, followed by a plan for pedagogical realisation of its ideology.

Although TALI’s choice of texts reveals a strong tendency towards one type of knowledge, the degree of boundary maintenance between different contents, ‘classification’ in Bernstein’s terminology, is yet to be examined.  How separated are the different contents of the programme are from each other.  Strong classification suggests reduced power of the teacher over contents taught, since the boundaries between different types of content limit her freedom of choice. 

In the case of the four programmes discussed here, the He & She, First of the Month and Prayer programmes answer the highly insulated, strong framing collection code curriculum, concentrating on Jewish topics, regardless of TALI’s declarative philosophy of different disciplines in an integrated code.  The Language and Culture programme presents an example of integrated knowledge code, seen both in the teachers’ cooperation in preparation and in teaching, and in terms of combining different disciplines of study.

Pedagogy:

Although the value of a curriculum as an influence on educational outcome is high, the teachers’ method of transmitting it, the ‘framing’ in Bernstein’s terms, is also critical important. Framing refers to the pedagogical relationship of the teacher and the taught, the context in which knowledge is transmitted.  When framing is strong, the teacher has control over what is transmitted in class. Weak framing would mean that the pupil’s control over the selection, pacing and organisation of knowledge is strong. 

When assessing the framing in TALI, we find that the programmes allow teachers a choice between different kinds of texts and activities.  Although the pupils do not make the actual choices, the activities allow a variety of opinions, and in some cases even allow pupils to choose the media in which they express themselves.  One example of this may be seen in the He & She programme, when pupils are asked to express their opinions about women being exempt from fulfilling precepts. They are asked to design posters, organise demonstrations, write a mini-play or a page from a woman’s diary, expressing their opinions.

This description of a modular programme creates an image of strong framing, where the teacher has control over curriculum.  This image is, however, illusory.  The teacher’s knowledge of the subject matter discussed leaves him/her completely at the mercy of the programme writers, since the choices made will inevitably be from the selection provided.  As I have previously stated, in programmes produced by TALI the choice of texts and activities may seem varied, while, in fact, all texts and activities are directed towards the ideological core of the organisation.  The vast majority of texts are of Jewish religious origin, and most activities are designed so that creativity in class might reduce pupils’ feelings of alienation from these texts.  Teacher’s control of what is transmitted in class may, therefore, be seen as trivial, and it is the ideological organisation that controls pedagogy.  This is the case both with regard to the choice of texts and the activities to be transmitted. 

When analysing the method of transmission in the classrooms observed, the picture changes considerably and it is clear that pedagogy has the upper hand over curriculum.  Teachers’ attitudes and beliefs played an extremely strong role in the classroom, while being completely neglected by the writers at the initial stages of the programme. The only aspect of teacher involvement they discussed was that of knowledge, and since the booklets were directed at teachers, they were loaded with that missing knowledge.  Teacher commitment to the ideological aims of the organisation was not questioned; but the assumption was not unfounded.  All the teachers declared they were committed to TALI; yet no serious discussion of what this meant was ever held.  The teachers, as well as the educational administrators at TALI headquarters, were unaware of the complexity involved.

An example of this may be seen in the manner of teaching the He & She programme, which was originally aimed at discussing texts with a critical, ethical and rational approach, freely embracing or rejecting them. 

We consider it important to allow children to become acquainted with and accept the legitimacy of different Religious Jewish factions in general, and their positions specifically, while focusing on woman’s role in religious practices.  Our emphasis- equality and pluralism.  Yet we accept both pupils and teachers arriving at different conclusions, such as the preference of a more conservative and less feminist approach.  This conclusion, however, will grow from acquaintance with other approaches, and will recognise their legitimacy. (My translation, Hankin, 2000, p.5)

All lessons that I observed were concerned with promoting an improvement of women’s position in society, yet while teachers advocated freedom of opinion, which would coincide with the programme’s aim at promoting pluralism, their pedagogy contradicted the declared philosophy.  Both the choice of materials, inspired by the organisation’s headquarters, and the methodology applied to teaching, were directed at promoting feminist ideology.  Pedagogy attained this goal by giving positive reinforcement to desired responses together with reproach of unacceptable reactionary views. 

Comparing teachers’ classroom behaviour with the programmes’ declared goals might, however, be misleading.  The writers of the programme had not anticipated that teachers’ methodology would strongly lean towards a feminist approach.  The He & She programme naturally introduces texts of religious origin, which may seem offensive to feminist ideology, but are accompanied by explanations and suggested activities as well.  None of these activities led to an understanding or approval of traditional views on the subject.  It may therefore be concluded that in the case of this programme, pedagogy, coincided with the programmes hidden ideological agenda, although it contradicted the declared one.

Although programme writers made a clear attempt to ensure that their views would be transmitted, teachers’ opinions played an important role.  The He & She programme provided a good example here too, since the majority of teachers left little if any space for traditional views of female roles in society.  The pupils correctly realised what was expected of them, and either they kept traditional opinions to themselves, or they were reproached for voicing such views. 

Israeli society, as discussed in chapter one, is not characterised by approval of feminist views.  Large segments of society are religious or traditional by their own definition.  Even within the non-religious segments of society modern approaches, such as feminism, are not the majority view.  The reasons for this are many, including the patriarchal society and its militaristic nature, facing at least one war every decade, and ongoing terrorist attacks during its entire existence.  Whatever the reasons may be, the He & She programme appears to promote a mission of change.  The teaching of the value of equality between sexes does not coincide with Israeli social surroundings.  It needs to be said that TALI has not undertaken this mission alone.  The Ministry of Education has been promoting this idea through programmes.  In the year 2000, when this programme was published, The Ministry of Education declared schools must educate pupils to the concept of equality between boys and girls. 

TALI took this concept even further in its attempt to introduce feminism into tradition and rituals.  This may upset some pupils from traditional backgrounds, who, although they may feel that women and men should be awarded equal treatment in all spheres of life, still consider that rituals have an inherent value and ancient prayers should not be changed.  Since TALI is mainly associated with the Conservative movement, it considers these alterations to be long needed modifications, and, therefore they offer no room for discussion or disagreement.

However, the schoolteachers who received the programme, did not necessarily understand the call for discussion, and responded to the ideological call for making a difference and educating children to accept equality of opportunity for women and men.  Since the required outcome of the He & She programme was to produce a graduate who would be well aware of the need for equality both in social and economic spheres and in religious and traditional areas, there was no room for reactionary, even traditional, views.  The discussions held in most classes were meant to help pupils see the light, not to allow them to express their views.  This kind of discussion leaves little room for individual thought.

Although it is true that this direction of their teaching was encouraged by the choice of materials made by the writers of the programme, teachers did have a choice in pedagogy.  Their failure to accept traditional views as legitimate, taught their pupils a powerful lesson regarding tolerance, an esteemed value among TALI principles.  Intolerance exhibited by teachers regarding issues towards which they felt strongly committed, was as bad as the intolerance they condemned in pupils who refused to consider an opinion other than their own.

The negotiation over the selection, organisation and pacing of material in the TALI headquarters prepared programmes is conducted between three parties: TALI headquarters, teachers and pupils.  TALI headquarters select the materials.  The modular nature of the programmes allows the teachers to decide on the organisation and pace of the programme, as well as on the selection from within the texts provided.  The pupils do not take part in this curricular negotiation, not even in determining the pace.  None the less they are provided with an opportunity to express themselves in many ways, either through writing of a new prayer, or in creating a new ritual, and many other forms of expression. 

Although in the school initiated programmes the teachers clearly made their own selection, the pupils remained on the receiving end of the programme, and still had no control over the pace or the organisation of the learning process.  The teachers decided on the programme, on the prayers or folk tales within it, as well as on the type of follow-up assignment to be given.

The relatively strong classification and framing within TALI curriculum suggests a development of a strong sense of identity as a member of TALI network.  The pupils and teachers are expected to perceive themselves as separate and unique from other schools.  This seems to be the case for the teachers, who declare their sense of identification with TALI principles.  The situation regarding the pupils, however, is different, and although they have a sense of uniqueness, they do not necessarily identify with TALI.  The pupils’ expressed lack of solidarity may be due to the insulation of TALI from everyday community knowledge, where TALI subjects are taught in place of subjects such as science which society considers important.  It may also be because subject loyalty develops with the progression of education, and TALI, for the most part, does not progress since the majority of its graduates do not continue TALI education at secondary school.

Alienation and Identification:

Modernity, it might be said, breaks down the protective framework of the small community and of tradition, replacing these with much larger, impersonal organisations.  The individual feels bereft and alone in the world in which she or he lacks the psychological supports and the sense of security provided by more traditional settings. (Giddens, 1991, p.33-34).

TALI programmes may be treated as an attempt to preserve some of the protective cocoon of the small community and tradition, thus enabling teachers and pupils to avoid the feeling of separateness, bordering with the sense of constantly confronting the world alone.  This may be the case, provided the narratives of Jewish culture are those that genuinely offer a sense of community and belonging to the modern pupil.  If this is not the case, the result may be estrangement, even alienation from the contents offered by TALI education.

The Day of the Month programme seemed to pose no ideologically threatening dilemma.  The issue of calendar is not ideological unless it means a separation from community resulting from the use of a different time code, and it remains to be seen if it may legitimately be referred to as value education.  TALI education is not interested in creating a different time organisation system, but considers the Jewish calendar to be an opportunity to learn texts and customs.  There is a belief that through the improvement of knowledge and the practice of customs a sense of commitment combined with a developing identity will ensue.  The actual classroom interaction that I observed, especially following the theft of the contents of the charity box described in chapter six, indicated that rather than the class developing an identity, alienation seemed to be the overriding emotion.  This was strengthened by the apparent disinterested attitude exhibited by the pupils.  There is a custom of giving alms to the poor on the first of the month, and a notion of social commitment by the strong and wealthy to the poor and needy, but this did not become part of the pupils’ identity, and remained external and foreign.  Although pupils were familiar with ancient customs and texts, that did not provide a growing sense of identification or social commitment.  TALI’s strong belief in the role of knowledge as a major factor in value education, promoting identification and commitment, remains to be questioned, following this finding.

It may be argued that it is inappropriate to create a theory and draw conclusions from our single story of theft. Anecdotalism is a common complaint against qualitative research, since choosing only that data which corroborates the researcher’s conclusion reflects on the validity of research (Silverman, 2001, p.34).  In this case, however, this incident will be studied in light of other incidents, so that the reasons for its singularity may be revealed.  It will act as the single case, which sheds light on other cases in this work.  The issue it will help clarify is that of texts as a source of identity and values education.

As indicated, in the case of the Day of the Month programme, texts alone did not provide a means of change in attitude, and did not constitute a sound basis on which values might grow.  This is both interesting and important, since TALI uses knowledge of ancient texts both in its attempts to improve teachers’ knowledge and as a solid part of their educational agenda. 

1. The pupils will be acquainted with Jewish heritage of all generations and origins: the contents and philosophy, its history, its customs and rituals, symbols, its major figures and its connection with the Land of Israel.

2.  The pupils will know their way and be able to read and comprehend Judaism’s foundation literature, and will be familiar with the Hebrew language in all its facets and cultural contexts. (My translation, TALI Curriculum, 1995, p.6)

The writing teams also attached importance of exposing both teachers and pupils to as many texts as possible.  The total amount of religious and non-religious texts in the programmes is indicative of this attitude.  This attitude is also influenced by the image of the desired TALI graduate, who should be both well versed in Jewish writings and a person of the world.  This graduate is also expected to make lifestyle choices based on this knowledge, choices regarding Jewish commitment, while remaining committed to democratic values.

The charity box incident indicates that texts in themselves do not constitute a sound basis for such commitment.  However, this was a single blatant example, while texts were studied in many other observed lessons.  The prayer lessons provided an excellent comparison, since they dealt with teaching ancient texts.  These lessons did not provide an opportunity to completely overturn the text as in the charity case, since the texts as well as the activity involved was of a different nature.  The text represents a conceptual formation from a metaphysical and historical semiotic system that privileged the transcendent. This world is extinct in the west. Being an ethnic Jew provides no automatic hermeneutic key, and the pupils lack the context and connotative field to render prayer sensible in their world.  Learning about the prayer praising the beauty of God’s house, was not accompanied by aggressive forms of rejection such as the theft of the charity box, since the pupils were encouraged to write the same idea using relevant terminology.  The act of creating their own bridge to prayer assisted in moving towards identification, rather than alienation. 

The charity box incident, which seemed to be a teacher’s failure even in her own eyes, could be an opening for a learning experience.  As we saw, the pupils' reaction to the theft expressed their lack of identification with the concept of charity as it was manifested in the classroom.  Using the previous example, the pupils required mediation and translation of the concept into their connotative world.  Regarding prayers, only one of all the schools I monitored, had a mandatory prayer policy.  Interestingly enough, the school that conducted prayers was the one where the charity box incident took place.  Perhaps this school accepts conflict as part of education.  The next paragraphs will expand on the role of conflict in education.

Conflict:

The He & She programme gave vent to conflicts at every stage.  Conflicts between home practice and school ideology, conflicts between ancient practices and modern attitudes are two major conflicts suggested by the programme.  Pupils reported that these lessons made them think about their previous convictions and even alter them as a result of what they learned.  Here too, some teachers attempted to dilute the conflicts, by avoiding a Mishnah, which may have been offensive to pupils.  Still, the programme did not only rely on the written ancient texts; the classroom activities provided ample opportunity for conflict and debate.  These opportunities allowed pupils to test and contest their opinions.  Boys stated they had not been aware that girls were not happy with society’s attitude towards them, they had never questioned those attitudes.  Girls claimed that they had been unaware of the extent of inequality.  Ancient written texts served as enrichment at best, not as an educational anchor. 

Looking into the Language and Culture programme initiated by the Tel Aviv TALI school adds an element of interest.   The texts in this programme were taken from three distinct cultures and placed next to each other.  The differences between cultures as portrayed in the texts, acted as a springboard for learning experiences and developing identification.  The process of examining differences among cultures created a context for comparison and contrast.  This could not have been achieved by connecting Hebrew and Jewish culture alone.  Uniqueness could emerge against the backdrop of differentiation. They were not considered inferior cultures by the programme, although individual teachers may have, as seen here, made statements that attempted to scale them.  No scaling was needed since the differentiation in itself allowed the pupils to find the uniqueness in the culture they were born into, and the way it agreed with and conflicted with other cultures.

Omission prayer in school is an avoidance of conflict, and it is through dilemma and conflict that values come to life, and people make their choices and commitments (Kohlberg, 1981).  The texts only constitute the basis; it is through dilemma and conflict that real learning takes place.  Most schools visited, including some schools that were not introduced in this thesis, since they ultimately did not teach the programmes discussed, stated in more than one way that they avoided controversial issues.  I have discussed this issue in depth in chapters five and six.  When they were questioned about school prayers, they all spoke of parent and pupil objections, and of their fear that this would turn pupils away from their school.  I can make no claims regarding this view; it may well be the case that parents would refrain from sending their children to the school if they felt it was too religious, none the less, avoiding conflicts does very little to improve education. 

It is important to clarify at this point that the actual need to teach prayer is not in question here.  Decisions on this issue are TALI’s prerogative.  Significant here is that real values education cannot be achieved from the academic study of texts alone.  Even the experience, as TALI calls it, the actual doing and experiencing of rituals is insufficient.  Conflict and dilemma force the person involved to form her opinion.  Avoidance of conflict stifles the educational act, since the hidden agenda understood by all involved is that conflicts are wrong and should be avoided. 

To conclude this issue, it is my claim that texts, which serve as a foundation element in TALI’ s educational goals, are insufficient as a values educational tool. Texts may become relevant and meaningful by providing a platform for debate and conflict.  Their failure to do so keeps them as in Bloom’s taxonomy (Bloom, 1956), at the basic knowledge level of education.  Familiarity with texts without analysis, synthesis and evaluation, achieves little in terms of values education.

Thinking:

Not only Jewish values suffer as a result of avoiding conflicts, but universal values, and thinking in its various facets suffer as well.  The charity box theft was not only a breach of Jewish education in that it dealt with charity in the framework of ritual celebrations of the new month: stealing is wrong by any standard.  The fact that the pupils in this class did not seem to care about it may indicate they did not think about it, in the broadest sense of the word.  No creative thinking or constructive thinking took place, since no one even attempted to make excuses or give reasons.  No criticism of the act itself, or even of the actual placing of the box in the first place was heard.  Caring was not demonstrated at all, since they seemed not to care either about the theft or about who might have needed the money.  They literally did not give the issue any thought.

It seems, then, that whether the teachers are ideologically involved in the material they teach or not, they avoid conflict and genuine discussion, and therefore cannot promote thinking.  When teachers feel strongly about an issue they tend to be intolerant of pupils’ views opposing them, and when they are not involved they teach the text in an alienating way, still rejecting conflicts.  Even programmes developed in the schools continue this general line of avoiding conflict and searching for consensus with pupils, parents and all involved parties. 

I will not claim that reaching consensus is contrary to values education, only that conflict must be realised and dealt with prior to the agreement.  Conflict is crucial both to educating an independently thinking individual and to this individual’s development into a moral, ethical person both knowledgeable and identified with his Jewish origins. It is integral to the educational framework.  Continuing to avoid conflict will not lead to growth.

This is not a call for rampant disagreement and argument; however, it is a call for real Socratic discussions in class.  These discussions require able teachers more than they require programmes.  Mr. Pnini, who at the time of this research was the director of TALI’s educational department, was correct in his claim that teachers must be taken into consideration in the educational process, and that programmes should be directed at them rather than directly at the pupils.  The question remains as to what should be done for the teachers; the provision of texts and an introductory meeting have not proved sufficient.

The answer to this question requires, firstly, a serious examination of TALI and its ideology.  If teachers are allowed to openly discuss texts and religious issues, they may clash at times with the organisation’s ideology.  This requires a degree of openness and tolerance, which exists in TALI on the declarative level; it remains to be seen whether it also exists on an operational level.  It is true that familiarity with the ancient texts requires a level of knowledge in Jewish studies.  Still, this knowledge alone does not ensure the development of a Jewish identity or the ability to educate children towards a well-rounded Jewish identity of their own.  Just as the texts are not sufficient for the pupils, they are insufficient for the teachers.  Teachers must feel free to contest the text so that it might become relevant.  Then, in turn, this text may be contested by the pupils. 

It needs to be said that some texts, as seen in this work, were contested by programme writers, teachers and pupils.  Prayers, which ignore or reject women, were rejected by the team of He & She writers, and alternative blessings were suggested.  However, I claim that this does not constitute a debate with the text.  This is an example of how an attempt to transmit TALI’s subtext is disguised as genuine debate.

Evaluation:

The major party to TALI education, the pupil, has no official voice in pedagogy or curriculum.   At the preliminary stages of my work both teachers and TALI officials were surprised that my research plan included pupils’ responses.  The overruling assumption was that curriculum would take care of everything.  If the programme produced is good, it will achieve what it set out to do.  Despite that, the group interviews I held with pupils revealed some interesting insights.

The general attitude pupils exhibited to prayer was completely different from what was expected.  Contrary to their teachers’ beliefs most pupils reported an initial antagonism, yet expressed an interest in practicing prayer.  Some pupils actually spoke of the gap they felt when studying something that should actually be experienced.  Others spoke of the fact that various programmes had changed their attitudes, since they felt they had gained new knowledge that shed light on their previous beliefs and attitudes.

Interesting were the pupils declarations, that given their own choice they would have attended a different school with fewer Jewish studies. Pupils said that their parents had chosen their primary school, and that the reasons were not because of the school’s Jewish content, but for reasons such as the avoidance of integration or because the TALI school had a good scholastic reputation.

Tabula Rasa?

 Although TALI officials are well aware that both teachers and pupils are in no way “tabula rasa”, it appears that the programmes produced ignore this.  Both teachers and pupils are treated as though they have entered the educational encounter with TALI with no previous agenda. 

The programmes arriving from TALI headquarters aim to teach the teacher, to provide her with knowledge in which she is considered lacking.  Teachers’ attitudes are not taken into consideration, and therefore the issue of dealing with dilemma and conflict in class is not dealt with at all.  Pedagogics are only dealt with as a list of activities, not as a serious issue constituting the educational dialogue with the pupil and assisting him in finding a voice, a self identity which is based on the narrative of a modern Jewish youth.

If the teacher is considered to be a clean slate to be inscribed by TALI, it is not surprising that the pupils’ prior knowledge is not considered of value.  The idea that any knowledge provided by TALI will be accepted and adopted proves wrong time and again.  Although pupils learn the texts provided, or as TALI refer to the subject, become acquainted with the texts, there seems to be no immediate impact on their self-identity.  In order for that to happen there must be pupil involvement in the process of learning rather than a pedagogy of inscription on a clean slate. 

It is interesting to note that although TALI seems to consider both pupils and teachers as captive audiences, who can be taught whatever contents TALI considers valuable, the parents’ and pupils’ attitude towards prayer is given fullest attention, and prayer is avoided in many schools.  Rather than use the opportunity for a dialogue provoked by a genuine conflict, the issue is dropped altogether. 

While avoiding conflict attempts to respond to a need, it clearly does not replace dialogue.   An ideal speech situation does not mean immediate acceptance of the other’s views and refraining from disagreement (Habermas, 1981).  Controversial issues need to be discussed, and all sides of the discussion should be able both to convince and to be convinced.  True, mandatory prayer might have been cancelled anyway, but it would not remain so valued in the hidden curriculum.  A dialogue may have resulted in a compromise, and the issue would probably be continuously discussed.

Entering this dialogue requires an initial appreciation of the other side’s previous opinions and values, and deserting the ‘tabula rasa’ assumption.

Critical Reflection:

TALI teachers and headteachers are relied upon to deal with pedagogy, the means of transmission.  Headteachers and teachers are neither party to discussion of the philosophy of education, nor deliberately excluded from it.  The philosophy of TALI education is not discussed in any forum.  Since the organisation’s initiation these principles have not been questioned, tested or evaluated.  Twenty-five years have passed since this programme commenced, and its principles are still not as clear as headquarters seem to consider.    Since curriculum is the ideological selection from an entire range of possible knowledge to be taught, it cannot be treated as an arbitrary matter.  As stated by Habermas (1971), knowledge and its selection is neither neutral nor innocent.  Avoiding dialogue with teachers regarding the philosophy of the organisation and the selection of knowledge to be taught indicates that it is the knowledge that TALI headquarters consider valuable that will be taught. 

The programmes were structured modularly in order to allow teachers to choose freely among subjects.  At the same time, modularity has other effects as well, such as the commodification and trivialisation of curricula, or technicist control of it.  Some of the pitfalls of modularity became apparent especially in the case of Sara, who was worried about her progress report at the end of the year, since she was held accountable for types and volumes of contents taught.

Further, one can argue that the move towards modular and competence-based curricula reflects the commodification, measurability and trivialisation of curricula, the technicist control of curricula, a move towards the behaviourism of positivism and a move away from the transformatory nature of education, a silencing of critique, and the imposition of a narrow ideology of instrumental utility on the curriculum.  (Cohen, Manion and Morrison, 2000, p. 34).

Curriculum is not merely another commodity in consumer society as may be understood from Tyler’s model (1949), where the recipient remains passive while it is delivered.  Since TALI consider curriculum as an important step in the direction of establishing Jewish identity, all parties to the education process must be engaged in an ongoing ideological dialogue.  This is crucial for emancipation, which is the key to developing self-identity.   It is precisely the late modern nature of society in general, and specifically the nature of the population interested in attending TALI schools, that demands a discussion of identity dealing with the self as a trajectory reflexive project. 

…tradition or established habit orders life within relatively set channels.   Modernity confronts the individual with a complex diversity of choices and, because it is non-foundational, at the same time offers little help as to which options should be selected. (Giddens, 1971, p. 80).

It is not sufficient in the post traditional world to attempt to establish habits and beliefs, but rather to introduce a selection to choose from.  In order to develop a modern Jewish identity pupils must be actively involved.  Giddens uses the term ’lifestyle’ to discuss a set of choices made by the individual:

Lifestyles is not a term which has much applicability to traditional cultures, because it implies choice within a plurality of possible options, and is ‘adopted’ rather than ‘handed down’.  Lifestyles are routinised practices, the routines incorporated into habits of dress, eating, modes of acting and favoured milieu for encountering others; but the routines followed are reflexively open to change in the light of the mobile nature of self-identity. (1971, p. 81).

Tradition seems to stand opposed to modern life, since reflexivity changes, while tradition relies on continuity.   Nonetheless we see a growing tendency to re-establish traditions and even construct new ones.  This seems in a way to be contradictory to modern life, but Giddens considers this to be a move beyond the world dominated by internally referential systems. (1971, p. 207). 

 While a genuine discussion of TALI principles does not guarantee an improved assimilation of its educational programmes, it would be an important step forward in teacher training or recruitment.  A debate over the issue of giving priority to Jewish education may lead to a decision that Jewish education is not to be given priority over any subject.  In reality most TALI schools already function that way.  Miriam’s decision to work with her sixth grade class on preparation for their Junior High school instead of teaching the He & She programme is only one example of this.  Avoiding this discussion might tend to alienate teachers from the management of the TALI organisation and its principles.

The subject of Experiential Jewish education, rituals, ceremonies and religious practices, should also be aired and discussed.  Teachers and personnel should be encouraged to continuously question its limitations.  The issue of parent and pupil antagonistic attitudes towards religion also needs to be faced and dealt with.  These discussions do not promise specific outcomes, but it is safe to assume that TALI schools and staff are genuinely interested in, if not committed to, creating successful programmes. This will improve teachers’ commitment to the organisation, and will also be useful in deepening their understanding of the different programmes.

All other TALI principles need to be opened periodically to discussion.  The meaning of humanistic values should be considered.  As I researched the title of this thesis I found that the original meaning was “developing a rational and moral attitude to Jewish Universal values stressing human dignity, equality of sexes and respect to other world cultures.”  There is an opening here for the teachings of the great philosophers alongside the prophets’ moral writings.  Teachers might ponder why the only inequality they have addressed till now is that of the sexes. 

Similarly, we find this to be true of the principles promoting democracy, Zionism, the learning community and integration.  The findings in this thesis point to special attention needed for an examination of pluralism and solidarity.  Contrary to the natural assumption based on the thesis’s title’s, pluralism in this context means within Judaism, among the various religious and non-religious groups.  This principle stems from the lack of acceptance of Jewish alternatives by Israeli legislation, and from Orthodox hegemony in matters of conversion, marriage and burial.  As I have pointed out in this research, programme developers as well as teachers find it difficult to tolerate conservative or traditional views. TALI’s tolerance of orthodoxy may need to be addressed.

It is important to state that the specific questions and answers dealt with when openly discussing the philosophy of TALI are not as important as they may seem at first.  It is also quite obvious that teachers must teach and cannot be continuously debating pre-teaching issues.  Time allocation and methods of discussion should be worked out according to the ability and needs of the organisation and of its schools.  Teacher sessions and headteacher seminars that focus on content are already frequently held at TALI.  These sessions offer an introduction to programmes, and exposure to the final product.  Yet it would be far more productive to see teachers as partners in the process, by conducting debates similar to those held by the writing teams.  Teachers would then be better equipped to make and implement choices regarding the programme more effectively.  Further, it is preferable for a teacher to make an educated and intentional omission of a programme, or some part thereof, than to misuse these materials through alienation.

To conclude, teachers are at the heart of the educational process and should not be treated as only a means of transmission, since an alienated teacher cannot evoke a meaningful learning experience.  It is important to realise that teachers can transmit behaviour patterns, however, values are a step beyond transmission, and pupils should be encouraged to ponder and deliberate over them before they actually accept, or perhaps unfortunately, reject them. 

For this too, teachers are the key.  TALI headquarters realised this when they began work on the new programmes, but they neglected to nurture this realisation as the programmes were written.  Encouraging, rather than avoiding, a debate with teachers may in turn influence the teachers’ readiness to begin discussions on controversial issues with parents and pupils.  In order to empower pupils, teachers too must be emancipated, free to criticise curricula and restructure it, while considering their pupils and their ability to criticise and form their views.

It may be argued that this represents an idealistic point of view, yet this approach may be seen as direction to follow, rather than a goal to be reached.  The ‘ideal speech situation’ where all parties to the dialogue are willing not only to influence, but are also aware of their ability to be influenced may serve as the subtext of a reflexive curriculum.

Conclusions

Following the analysis in the previous chapter some conclusions need to be drawn regarding the educational ideology of TALI, the curricula used in TALI schools and the pedagogy used by the curricula.  The most important conclusion, however, deals with the issue of evaluation.  It is through a sound evaluation programme that an educational organisation can reflect and improve its action. 

Any educational programme studied in schools must be tested, and the issue of evaluation should be dealt with at the initial stages of curriculum development.  This requires a clear vision of what the programme’s goals are, making it possible to see whether or to what extent the programme fulfilled the expectations.  Even a modular programme such as the He & She programme has a preconceived notion of the desired outcome; therefore it is important to examine whether the outcome is achieved.

In the conclusion I will attempt to contextualise TALI’s ideology, curriculum, pedagogy and evaluation as it has emerged through the programmes studied, in late modernity as well as in the Israeli context.

Educational Ideology:

TALI’s ideologies may have been clear to the founding group of teachers and parents in 1976, when the network started out with the first Jerusalem school, however, the organisation has grown considerably since then.  This growth has brought different approaches to Jewish education into the organisation, approaches which have forced the founding group to make modifications, the most prominent of them being the exemption from mandatory prayer. These accommodations have been ad hoc, without TALI management actually approving them, but rather consenting, grudgingly, to the needed changes. 

The programmes discussed here were an attempt to address the discrepancy between TALI’s ideology and its practical outcome.  Without antagonising teachers, pupils or parents, rituals would be placed at the centre of the educational agenda.  The first day of the month would be celebrated with prayers, even if not the ancient ones, The prayers taught in class would, hopefully, also be used in school prayers. Suggestions for alterations of blessings could be found in the He & She programme.  The fact that there had never been precedents for these rituals was neither discussed nor questioned. 

The planned school programmes reflect this problem clearly, hence the need to explain them, to educate the teachers through them.  In spite of the programmes’ original claim to answer needs expressed by teachers, they became a tool for teacher education, assuming such an education were necessary.  Teachers were not encouraged to openly discuss the problems of TALI education, their attitudes, and educational priorities; they were expected to adopt priorities determined by the programme writers.  Although an overall consensus is unrealistic, certainly a serious discussion of this issue should take place if programmes are supposed to reflect and answer the needs of schools and teachers. 

All of the teachers interviewed openly agreed with TALI principles and were pleased to teach in this framework.  The pupils seemed to have different attitudes.  Nearly all the pupils interviewed claimed they liked their schools, but not for the Jewish content.  They offered many different reasons, which had little to do with TALI’s ideology, for their choice of the school.  It is, therefore, justified, to question TALI’s ideology, which was once the main attraction of such schools.

Henceforth, TALI’s ideology needs to be examined openly, perhaps as a trajectory project of the identity of the network.  If the organisation wishes to reach out to its pupils, it needs to make more than just modifications and accommodations, but perhaps even some ideological decisions.  Post-traditional education must lean on post traditional tools.  It is no longer a passive situation where the pupils, and in TALI’s case, the teacher is treated as a learner, is the passive recipient of knowledge. 

Israeli society, as indicated in Chapter 1, has changed considerably since the establishment of TALI in 1976.   The non-orthodox state schools promote subjects of Jewish tradition outside the TALI network.  TALI is no longer unique in discussing Jewish identity and Jewish subjects.  Teachers, with little prior knowledge of Jewish curricula, receive in service training to teach these subjects.  Almost all 7^th grade pupils in Israel study their roots and present a final project dealing with the communities their parents came from.  Also, if we recall the case of Orit’s school in Tel Aviv, we remember that a TALI inspector had suggested she join the network in 1991, because her school was already teaching Jewish subjects, and it would be a pity to lose the allotted hours.  The exemption from mandatory prayers made TALI schools appear similar to the majority of state schools.  Today we see that TALI’s ideology is not as clear as its officials seem to believe, and therefore the ideology needs to be re-evaluated.  Since TALI is an organisation dedicated to educational change, an open dialogue along the lines of Habermas’ ideal speech situation may assist in clarifying some of the misunderstandings and ambiguities.

Curriculum:

As indicated in the previous chapter, there were gaps between the declared goals of the programmes produced and the actual content of the booklets.  By counting the different types of texts in the programmes we gained a different outlook on the programme and its aims.  This was especially true for TALI management initiated programmes.  School initiated programmes seemed to match their declarations to their actual activities and texts. 

The programmes aimed at encouraging children to think, however the single direction to which most texts within the curriculum seemed to lean indicated that thinking was only a declared priority, not a realistic one.  A pupil could only think within the boundaries the programme allowed.  One might not think, for example, that the Jewish calendar is archaic and should be discarded.  Thoughts could only be applied to the manner in which the Jewish calendar’s meaning in modern life could be strengthened. .

This gap results from the previous issue discussed, the neglect of an ideological debate clarifying the organisation’s objectives.  It is imperative for the organisation to decide on its direction before it produces a curriculum.  The declared objectives take into account changes in the network, however, the actual activities suggest that these changes have not yet infiltrated, and that since its initiation, the organisation has not taken the changing times and population into consideration.

The selection of texts for the programmes was not coincidental; it was a premeditated choice.  Therefore it is no accident that the vast majority of materials in TALI programmes are of religious origin.  The selection of texts was made by the staff hired by TALI headquarters, and reflects their choices of what is to be considered valuable.  This defines not only what is considered of value, but also who was considered to be the one to determine value, and is a successful tool in identifying hidden curricular aims. 

TALI, while claiming to base its curriculum on integrated code, have explicit and strong boundary –maintaining features…they rest upon a tacit-ideological basis. (Bernstein, 1971, p. 386).  The strong boundaries and tacit rather than explicit nature of its ideology places TALI well within the collection code curriculum, with well-insulated boundaries between different contents.  The collection code curriculum results in mechanical solidarity, rather than organic solidarity. 

Pedagogy:

This research has shown that the weakness or strength of all the programmes studied lay in the pedagogy, an area almost completely neglected by TALI.  Much planning and debating went into the preparation stage of the programme; a lot of thought was given to the Jewish Studies background of the teachers, and through them the pupils.  Still, the teachers’ were on their own when it came to approach and pedagogy.  In most of the classes monitored, the teachers were unable to rise to the occasion.

Some examples were more blatant than others, however, all teachers let their convictions govern their teaching.  Pupils were encouraged to reach the teacher’s conclusion, and any other thinking was either ignored or rejected.  This kind of teaching is counterproductive, since it indicates that there is only one possible approach to issues.  The idea of pluralism cannot be taught when pedagogy indicates there is only one acceptable view.

The way in which curriculum is presented in class is pedagogy, and its importance cannot be overestimated.  The issue is not whether the teacher transmits the material well or not, but whether his teaching corresponds to the contents taught.  When there is a gap between content and pedagogy, pedagogy ultimately has the upper hand. 

TALI, an ideological organisation, should therefore make pedagogy a top priority, and not compromise with only content workshops for teachers.  Rather than explaining Jewish texts to teachers in order to broaden their knowledge as the case may be today, emphasis should be placed on teaching methods that reflect the organisation’s ideology.  Pedagogy should not be viewed as merely a list of techniques, but as a reflection of curriculum and philosophy.

Bernstein pointed out the irony in the movement towards integration in education in countries where there is a low level of moral consensus. (1971, p. 384). The irony is that integrated codes can only succeed where there is a high level of ideological consensus among the staff.  This is not the only condition he makes for the success of the integrated code.  However they all relate to staff work, staff responsibility, agreement and consensus.  In TALI’s case there is little attention paid to staff work, and in most programmes monitored the teacher makes her decisions alone, or sometimes with the help of an external advisor.  The only case found where staff worked together from the initial planning stage to the classroom was the Language and Culture programme, which seemed to respond to much of the integrated knowledge code conditions.

Pedagogy, like curriculum, indicates a collection code, which might explain the teachers’ expressed loyalty in spite of their apparently low involvement.  The pupils share less of this solidarity, and state some of the reasons in their interviews.  The issue of prayer was perhaps the most indicative, since the pupils declared their initial rejection, while expressing their wish to practice the prayers taught.  Some actually referred to prayers they had seen in another school, which seemed to strengthen solidarity.  This wish may be interpreted as a desire to strengthen framing and create a distancing from community knowledge around them.  In their life outside school these pupils do not consider prayer an option: it is something they hear from the outside as described in their answers at the interviews. 

Yet, in the broader context of Israeli society, Jewish studies are not highly valued compared to science, math or English.  This is why most of TALI education takes place in the lower classes, while the high school years are generally devoted to the more prestigious subjects directing the teenager towards professional choices.  The collection code, highly insulated boundaries between subjects and strong framing we find in Israeli schools is not a result of TALI education, but rather is inflicted upon it by the academic structure of Israeli schools. 

This research clearly indicated that lack of discussion of pedagogics does not ensure worthwhile transmission of knowledge.  The issues raised here may be the bases for such a discussion.

Evaluation

Evaluation is an important stage of programme implementation, and TALI has fallen short in its utter neglect to follow-up.  The absence of evaluation tools is not coincidental; it results from an assumption that a good programme received warmly by teachers must work well.  Although this may sometimes be the case, it does not always follow, and should not be taken for granted. 

A sound evaluation plan would be an important key to improving the impact of TALI programmes.  It would reveal questionable ideological issues, assist TALI headquarters in planning programmes that promote the ideology, as well as expose general difficulties in pedagogy.

However, having stated the self evident, that educational programmes should be evaluated so one can see if they are worth the effort, it is equally important to determine what and how it should be assessed.   In order to make use of evaluation for the empowerment of teachers and pupils in the educational process, as in the reflexive development of identity; forms of action research could prove useful.  TALI could benefit from these research projects not only in the evaluation of programmes, but in the growing numbers of involved practitioners and pupils.

Final Words:

The high value TALI places on curriculum is undeniably important.  Teachers as the appointed agents of education in schools, and curricula are directed at them.  Giving teachers good programmes to work with is not enough apparently, and this has been discussed in detail in this chapter.  If teachers are to be successful agents of change, they should be acknowledged as an integral part of the organisation, regularly participating in its ideological discussions and debates. 

Understanding the role of pedagogy as a reflection of ideology as well as curriculum is critical.   Even at the early stages of programme development, methods of teaching should be considered.  Introducing teachers to the planned programme is insufficient, and pedagogy should be examined at the early stages of the programme.  Teachers should be made aware of the pitfalls of unsuitable pedagogy, and be assisted in choosing a more suitable way of teaching.  Pedagogy does not automatically take care of itself, and since in many cases it is more powerful than content, it must be given attention.  

Answering the research question is not a simple task, since the teaching of democratic, universal values combined with particularistic, religious ones is a complex undertaking.  Some cases in this research clearly indicate a preference for one set of values over others; yet none show complete indifference to one or the other.  The complexity of the demand made by TALI authorities stresses the need for an ongoing dialogue with teachers in the future regarding the values in focus, the organisation’s ideology; as well as the pedagogical issues.

Although there are conflicting issues between the two sets of values in question, they are both important elements of the compound identity of the TALI graduate who finds a way to combine her Jewish affiliation with the democratic values of the western world community.  Choosing between the two value systems is not an option. The TALI educational system needs to continue its quest to integrate them, while taking into account the important role that teachers have had in the educational process, and the significance of pedagogy to the educational outcome.  TALI is not alone in its attempt to combine the two worlds expressed by the two sets of values:

Today, we see a definite tendency to seek to re-establish vanished traditions or even construct new ones…whether tradition can effectively be recreated in conditions of high modernity is seriously open to doubt.  Tradition loses its rationale the more thoroughly reflexivity, coupled to expert systems, penetrates to the core of everyday life.  The establishment of ‘new traditions’ is plainly a contradiction in terms.  Yet, these things having been said, a return to sources of moral fixity in day-to-day life, in contrast to the ‘always revisable’ outlook of modern progressivism, is a phenomenon of some importance. (Giddens, 1991, p.206-207).

The attempt to combine these seemingly opposing elements is part of the moral dilemmas generated by the emancipatory nature of the post traditional era.  Dynamic and reflexive debate of these dilemmas will influence self-identity of all involved.

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Appendices:

Appendix 1:Household chores as they are carried out in my home:

Appendix 2: Pupils views of male/female preferred pastimes and interests:

Appendix 3.

What is TALI? 

TALI is a pluralistic Jewish Studies program that is reaching more than 20,000 Israeli schoolchildren and their families in over 100 TALI schools and kindergartens throughout Israel.

TALI (Hebrew acronym for “enriched Jewish studies”) provides a modern and non-coercive Jewish studies program to Israeli schoolchildren. TALI is championed by Israel’s Ministry of Education and sponsored by the Schechter Institute of Jewish Studies in Jerusalem.

Who Runs TALI?

The TALI Education Fund (TEF) of the Schechter Institute of Jewish Studies in Jerusalem supervises the opening of new TALI schools, kindergartens and education tracks.

TEF's Education Department provides educational support to TALI schools, including pedagogic counseling, in-service teacher training, weekly Torah portion sheets and daily dairy, thematic parent-child workshops, Bar Mitzvah Seminars for 6th-7th grades, Learning Communities, Curriculum Kits, and "Individual and Community" Seminars at Pinat Shorashim for grades 4-5.

Who Needs TALI?

The vast majority of Israelis do.

Former Israeli President Ezer Weizman told the press recently that he “loses sleep” over what he called the growing ignorance of secular Israeli youth about Judaism and Jewish history.

Until TALI education, Israeli parents had only two educational options for their child: Send to a conventional State-religious institution, which allowed little room for pluralistic Judaism...or stay with the non-religious State school system which, by and large, ignored the beauty and great depth of Jewish learning and traditions.

TALI offers an alternative approach to Judaism which satisfies a modern search for spiritual answers. The TALI school system brings a modern and enlightened Judaism into the homes of religiously non-affiliated Israelis.

TALI Today and Tomorrow

There are currently over sixty schools and fifty kindergarten and preschool programs in the TALI network. In twenty of the schools, TALI operates as a track within the larger school.

Israeli state schools, on the whole, have failed to provide Israeli children with an appreciation of and link to their Jewish heritage. Israel's Ministry of Education has officially adopted the conclusions of the 1994 Shenhar report and is calling on schools to dramatically improve the level and scope of Jewish Studies.

Nonetheless, the real work of rebuilding Jewish studies in schools has been left to grassroots organizing by school professionals and groups of parents. TEF is receiving more requests from Israeli parents to open TALI schools in their communities. The demand for TEF services is growing beyond what TEF resources currently allow.

The goal for the 2001-2002 school year is to expand the TALI network by 10%, initiating activity in about four new schools, expanding TALI tracks in a number of schools, and opening about a half-dozen new kindergartens. The TALI executive staff is currently creating a strategic development plan to meet demand which includes the creation of specific criteria for the initiation of services and evaluation of current TALI intervention.

Appendix 4

The Principles of TALI Education:

To develop through Jewish studies an awareness among pupils and their parents of the tradition and origins of the Jewish people. 
1. Joint activities for parents and students relating to Jewish values and the celebration of Holidays;
2. Institution of parent study groups to include the following kinds of topics: parent-child communication; bible study; analysis of rabbinic concepts; examination of medieval literature; tackling contemporary challenges in the areas of religion and state;
3. Preparing for Bar/Bat Mitzva: Theory and Practice;
4. Institution of student activities focusing on Jewish Studies (beyond the formal hours of the TALI curriculum).

To facilitate greater knowledge in major areas of Jewish studies: Bible, Rabbinic Literature, Jewish History, Jewish Thought, Prayer and Hebrew Literature.
1. Instruction in unfamiliar areas of Jewish Studies, (e.g. Prayerbook and the Jewish Life Cycle);
2. Instruction in Bible and Rabbinic literature using original source materials (i.e., neither a reconstructed text nor an abbreviated text), drawn from chapters set down in the school curriculum;
3. Study of Bible using a multi-disciplinary approach to include: traditional commentaries, Midrash, folklore/legends, and contemporary research;
4. Concentration on the weekly Torah reading, with an eye toward contemporary implications;
5. Study and significance of the Jewish Calendar.

To enrich the cognitive learning in the school through a variety of experiential and behavioral Jewish educational approaches, emphasizing traditional practices, prayer, and observance of Shabbat and Holidays.
Establishing the following types of activities: assemblies; prayer services; experiencing Kabbalat Shabbat; a Rosh Chodesh celebration; a "Seder" for Tu Bshvat; a Megillah reading; a Model Pesach Seder; Holocaust Day commemoration; Independence Day ceremony; and the celebration of Bar and Bat Mitzva (either celebrated collectively or coordinated on an individual basis).