LOYOLA UNIVERSITY CHICAGO

THE STRICTLY ORTHODOX JEWISH DAY SCHOOL:
DIRECTIONS FOR THE FUTURE
A SYNTHESIS OF TRADITIONAL JEWISH VALUES
AND MODERN SECULAR RESEARCH

A DISSERTATION SUBMITTED TO
THE FACULTY OF THE GRADUATE SCHOOL OF EDUCATION
IN CANDIDACY FOR THE DEGREE OF
DOCTOR OF EDUCATION

PROGRAM IN CURRICULUM AND INSTRUCTION

BY
BINYOMIN G. SEGAL

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS
DECEMBER 2004

Copyright by Binyomin G. Segal, 2004
All rights reserved.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
If it is true that “it takes a community to raise a child,” it is clear that a dissertation is very much a child. It takes a community to write a dissertation. This dissertation in particular required, and received, the aid of numerous overlapping communities.
First, of course, is the community created by Loyola’s School of Education. The community’s ability to create warmth and support was aided by the beautiful space that was Mallinkrodt Campus. But the space was not the crucial component of this community. The community is made up of students, staff, and faculty working together in pursuit of educational excellence. My fellow students have participated in many discussions that challenged me and helped me to more carefully consider my positions. Through DissCo they have helped insure that I complete this dissertation. The staff, especially the education librarian Cecile Maciulis and the interlibrary loan librarians, Ursula Scholz and Jennifer Stegen, made the research in this dissertation, and all my research, as successful and enjoyable as possible. The professors in the School of Education are, without exception, a crucial component in the learning of the community, but also a crucial component in the existence of community. They are model educators in that they care for the whole student. I am tempted to list here all the professors with whom I have had any contact, it has all been positive. I will instead mention the two on my dissertation committee, as proxies for the rest. Dr. Berlin was among the first professors I was exposed to at Loyola. For him, I wrote my first curriculum, one I am still using today. In that curriculum I already was thinking about the interaction between affective growth and cognitive growth. He has encouraged my thinking and exploring. Dr. Schiller forced me to confront my own concept of moral education and present it to others around me. She is living proof that a math teacher can indeed be a moral educator.
Over my life, many individuals have been a part of my life, and have made meaningful contributions to the person I was to become. The Providence Hebrew Day School provided a strong background in the academic skills, Jewish and secular, I would need throughout my life. In particular I should mention Mrs. Roberta Segal who acted as a living model for the integration of care and academic rigor. Mrs. Cynthia Wrubel, for whom I have searched, in vain, for many years, was perhaps the most rigorous teacher I ever experienced. The single paragraphs that I wrote for her each week, and the feedback she gave, developed in me any skill I may have with the English language. I am forever in her debt.
In my high school years at the Talmudical Institute of Upstate New York, I was fortunate to form a relationship with Rabbi Moshe Kamin. He is one of many great educators who have left education because the school environment produces frustration among those who care.
My rebbe, my teacher and role-model, is Rav Yerachmiel Chasid. Getting to know him, was my opportunity to interact with a truly holy man. It is to his credit that through all the years that have passed since I sat in his classroom, the moral lessons he taught me are still like fire before my eyes. This was a teacher who inspired moral greatness in his students because his words were totally congruous with his being. I am ever grateful to  the yeshiva, and to the Roshei Yeshiva, Rabbi Moshe Meiselman and Rabbi Daniel Lehrfield, for providing the opportunity to grow and learn from a man like Rav Chasid.
After I was married, I was given the opportunity to return full time to the bais medrash for a number of years. Rav Michel Twerski, and the entire community in Milwaukee, provided a warm and nurturing environment for my transition from student to teacher. Rav Dovid Siegel is one of the most brilliant scholars I know. It was a privilege to learn with him for two years. Attempting to hold onto his coattails was one of the most mind stretching experiences of my life.
The Chicago Jewish community is my home. And while I am not a native to this city, the community has always made me feel welcome. This is especially true in the halls of Ida Crown Jewish Academy (ICJA). The students, faculty, administration, and staff of ICJA make a particularly warm and caring community. My students here have been my laboratory for many of the ideas I have learned at Loyola, or considered for this work. Their eagerness to grow has been much of my motivation for this work. My fellow faculty have been encouraging and supportive of all my endeavors. Many of them know that I would long ago have left teaching if it were not for their support at a crucial time. The administration, and especially Rabbi Leonard Matanky Ph.D., have helped me to be the teacher I am. It was his encouragement that motivated me to attend Loyola in the first place. And it was the school’s financial support that enabled that motivation to be actualized.
Even before I moved to Chicago, I had meaningful ties with the National Conference of Synagogue Youth (NCSY). But since my arrival in Chicago almost twenty years ago, NCSY has been a part of my life. It is through the informal educational experiences of NCSY that I developed much of my passion for education. It is the mentoring that Rabbi A.Y. Weinberg provided that focused that plan on improving education for Jewish children.
Other parts of the Jewish community are connected to me and my work as well. Over the last decade, there has been growing concern about the “at-risk teen” in the Orthodox community. Many people have volunteered their talents and passions to help these teens find their way. I have had the opportunity to meet and befriend many of these dedicated people. They are, as a group, among the kindest and most sincere group of people I know. Many of them inspire me daily. It is from this group that I was able to find the third member of my dissertation committee, Rabbi Benzion Twerski, Ph.D.. His personal and professional lives were, each one, sufficient to keep any two people busy. But when I needed him, he always found the time for me.
My family is the single most important community in my life. It energizes my day, and fills my nights with warmth. I would have no passion nor drive for what I do all day if it were not for the home that I have been fortunate to help create.
Finally, it is my obligation and privilege to express my debt of gratitude to the One who gave us the Torah on which this document is based. He has given me everything I have, and has given me the opportunity to make all of it meaningful.

לעיולי נשמת אבי מורי אהרון יצחק בן ישיעהו סג“ל
הריני כפרת משכבו

Dear Teacher:
I am a survivor of a concentration camp. My eyes saw what no man should witness:
Gas chambers built by learned engineers.
Children poisoned by educated physicians.
Infants killed by trained nurses.
Women and babies shot and burned by high school and college graduates.
So, I am suspicious of education.
My request is: Help your students become human. Your efforts must never produce learned monsters, skilled psychopaths, educated Eichmanns.
Reading, writing, arithmetic are important only if they serve to make our children more humane.

Haim G. Ginott
Teacher and Child
A Book for Parents and Teachers
Page 317
1972 Macmillan Company, NY NY

TABLE OF CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS	iii

LIST OF TABLES	xi

CHAPTER

	I.	INTRODUCTION	1
			Background	1
			Purpose	2
			Semantics and Definitions	2
			Focus of This Paper	4
			Synthesis and Approach	5
			An Overview of What is to Come	7

	II.	HISTORICAL DEVELOPMENT OF THE DAY SCHOOL	8
			Jewish Education in Eastern Europe	9
			American Public School Education  circa 1900	11
			Compulsory Education	12
			Jewish Communal Attitudes Toward the Early Day School	13
			Early Day Schools	15
			Pioneer Yeshivos	15
			Emergence of the Modern Day School	17
			New York State Board of Regents and the Emerging Day School	20
			Great Expansion of the Day School	22
			Age of Growth and Diversity	29
			Outside New York, Examples from Baltimore, Chicago, and Providence	
				30
			Roots of Current Practice	34
			Changing Conditions	37
			The Conclusion	38

	III.	ORTHODOX JEWISH THEORY OF EDUCATION	39
			Components of Jewish Education	39
			Limud HaTorah	40
			Chinuch	50
			Umanus	53
			Interaction of Chinuch and Limud	54
	IV.	CONFRONTING SECULAR KNOWLEDGE	58
			Overview	58
			Torah Only	59
			Torah im Derech Eretz	61
			An Approach for Today	62
			Conclusion	63

	V.	UNDERSTANDING THE CURRENT NEEDS	65
			The Need for Change	65
			Changes in Twentieth Century America	67
			Coming To America - 1890 to 1930	72
			Living in America 1930 - 2000	80
			Implications of Change	83

	VI.	CURRENT SECULAR THEORIES	85
			Justification	85
			Social Experience	87
			Academic Exploration	90
			Diversity of Population	94
			Cooperative Learning	96
			Multiage classrooms	98
			Language Immersion	99
			Not Just Schooling	100
			The School	103

	VII.	THE IDEAL YESHIVA KETANA	104
			Limits	104
			Goals	104
			Protected Jewish Space	107
			Opportunities	108
			Content Outline	111
			Learning Situations	114
			Scheduling Example	115
			Program Evaluation	116
			Student Evaluation	117
			Staffing	117

	VIII.	INCREMENTAL CHANGE	119
			Evolutionary Change	119
			Make the Secular Holy	119
			Hebrew Immersion	120
			No Recess	121
			Cooperative Learning	122
			The Bais Medrash	123
			Limud Curriculum	123

	IX.	CONCLUSION	125

APPENDIX

	A. 	 GLOSSARY	128
	B.	 TRADITIONAL JEWISH SCHOLARSHIP	133

REFERENCE LIST	137

VITA ..........	150

LIST OF TABLES

Table			Page

1. 	Traditional elementary day schools, NYC 1948, by gender and language	25

2. 	Traditional elementary day schools, 1965, by gender and language	28

3. 	Theoretical School Schedule	115

4. 	Theoretical Faculty Schedule	116

CHAPTER I
	INTRODUCTION

Background
It is not an exaggeration to say that day schools have changed the face and the future of Orthodox Judaism in the United States. In little more than fifty years this educational form has become the dominant form of education throughout the Orthodox community. A revolution has taken place in Jewish Education. It is a mark of this revolution’s success that it is now seen as the traditional form of Jewish Education within the Orthodox community. Yet, the day school as we know it has existed for little more than one-hundred years. It was born in New York City, and was consciously transplanted throughout the United States. Many of the characteristics of the modern day school were purposefully introduced into Jewish Education in the early part of the twentieth century. Other characteristics developed over time, some as late as the 1950s. Overall, the success of day schools has been overwhelming. They have provided a strong secular education, and have been at the forefront of creating and maintaining an Orthodox Jewish community in the United States (Schiff, 1959; Schiff, 1966; Parsons, 1983; Schiff, 1987).
Orthodox Jews in America today send the vast majority of their children to day schools (Schiff, 1987). This puts a tremendous financial pressure on families trying to pay tuition, and on communities funding scholarships. Most day schools use a combination of tuition and fundraising to meet their budget (Schiff, 1966).
Purpose
It is important to keep the history and development of day schools in perspective. Day schools were a good first effort for Jewish Education in the United States. They were a workable compromise created by the historical realities of early twentieth century America (Fox, 1953). But are they the best possible Jewish Education? As conditions in America change, should we not consider new possibilities? How have changing conditions, in America generally and in the American Jewish community, affected both the schools we might have and the schools we might want?
I believe that the time has come to rethink the day school paradigm, and consider some new possibilities. I hope to examine the underlying philosophy of Orthodox Jewish Education, with an attempt to gather some basic educational principles. Then I will examine the needs of our current student body. Finally, I hope to show how some modern theories of education share basic principles with traditional Jewish thoughts on education. From this overlap, I hope to describe schools that are both traditional and modern; traditional in the sense that they are true to traditional Orthodox Judaism’s view of education, and modern in that they respond to the needs of current students. First though, we will examine the current day school and its history, in an attempt to understand from whence this school came, and why it is as it is.
Semantics and Definitions
A number of words that appear throughout this paper have shades of meaning that are not always apparent to the outsider. This makes precise conversation difficult. Within the context of this paper then, these terms should be construed in the ways described here. For reference while reading the text, and for some additional details, please see the Glossary (Appendix A). These are not offered as the only possible definition for these terms, but as a tool for clear dialogue.
The Jewish community is made up of numerous parts. The general distinction between Orthodox, Conservative, and Reform is already well known. What are less apparent to the outsider, are the distinctions within the Orthodox community. Helmreich (1982) distinguishes between the Modern Orthodox, the Strictly Orthodox, and the Chassidic or Ultra Orthodox. Both the Strictly Orthodox and Ultra Orthodox can be distinguished from the Modern Orthodox community by their strict interpretation and implementation of Jewish law. The Ultra Orthodox are more visibly distinct in their garb. “We are speaking of a continuum rather than of totally separate categories, it is to be expected that there will be crossing over and a blurring of distinctions among all three groups as well as differing interpretations of what constitutes Strictly or Modern Orthodox and who is a centrist and who an extremist” (Helmreich, 1982 p. 55). These distinctions are made more complex by the existence of an additional category, the Non-observant Orthodox. These are people who identify with an Orthodox community and synagogue, but are not committed to following Jewish law (Levine, 1959; Mishkin, 1986b).  Generally, Modern Orthodox day schools have a general studies college preparation program, and are co-educational. Strictly Orthodox day schools put less emphasis on the secular program, and are single sex institutions. Ultra Orthodox put even less emphasis on the secular program, are single sex, and often conduct their Judaic classes in Yiddish (Helmreich, 1982). This paper will primarily deal with the Strictly Orthodox (or Yeshiva community).
The term “day school” will be used as a general term for Jewish elementary private schools. The term day school as it appears in this paper refers to the full spectrum of Orthodox day schools. Moreover, although there certainly are non-Orthodox Jewish day schools, this paper will concern itself primarily with Orthodox ones. As a result, the term day school is not meant to imply all Jewish day schools, but rather specifically Orthodox ones, unless otherwise noted.
A “yeshiva” (literally, a place of sitting) or “yeshiva gedola” (great yeshiva) is a Hebrew term that is usually applied to a particular type of all-male Orthodox Jewish higher education. In this paper, the term “yeshiva” will be used to refer to elementary schools only as part of a school's name. The term “mesivta” refers to a Strictly Orthodox all-boys high school. These schools typically are connected with a yeshiva gedola. Certainly they act as prep schools to prepare their students to enter a yeshiva, and in many ways the Jewish curriculum parallels a yeshiva. The term “yeshiva ketana” (small, or minor, yeshiva) is used today to refer to a specific group of day schools. It is these schools that are the focus of this paper. The yeshiva ketana refers to an all-boys day school where the parent body is primarily of the Strictly Orthodox part of the community. In general, the yeshiva ketana assumes its students will continue in Orthodox Jewish schools - a mesivta and then a yeshiva gedola - through most or all of the student’s education.
Focus of This Paper
I have chosen to focus on the yeshiva ketana for a number of reasons. First and foremost, I am an educator concerned with the education within my community. As I identify myself with the Strictly Orthodox community, the education of that community is my primary concern. While some of the issues discussed here can be generalized to all Orthodox day schools, and even to day schools as a whole, I have chosen not to do that. Day schools are what they are, to a great degree, because they were compromises that had broad enough acceptance to succeed. The need to devise answers that worked for diverse parts of the Jewish community required solutions that were not entirely satisfactory to anyone. Those compromises are still important. There are many communities that have only one day school and need to ensure a wide array of support to make those schools viable. However, there are many places where that is no longer the case. As we shall see, many communities have multiple day schools that wish to offer parents choices. This means that we are no longer bound by the compromises that created the day school. We are free to examine entirely new solutions that may work for only a single segment of the community. I have chosen to develop such a choice, one that, I hope, will be a viable alternative for the Strictly Orthodox.
Synthesis and Approach
Perhaps every Orthodox Jew living in America today faces the challenge to integrate the disparate experiences of their life into a congruent whole. To some degree or another, every Orthodox Jew in America lives in two worlds, the ancient world of revelation and tradition, and the modern world of science and technology. Indeed, much of what I call for in this paper is a school designed to help integrate these two into a dynamic whole. Beyond that though, this paper itself is an attempt to integrate and synthesize the scholarship of these two communities into a single educational vision. Integration and synthesis of this type is not without danger, indeed it is fraught with difficulties large and small. For me, an Orthodox Jew who believes in a literal Revelation of Truth, Morality, and Law at Sinai by G-d to man, it is crucial that the integration of the modern world not come at the cost of even a slight counterfeiting of G-d’s Truth as expressed in the Torah. On the other hand, it is important to both me and my sponsoring institution that there be no compromise in standards of secular scholarship. In modern scholarship, it is not appropriate or acceptable to claim truth because someone (even some One) said so. Truth must be demonstrated and proven. Conversely, traditional Jewish scholarship would be unimpressed by demonstrations that contradict the Revealed Truth of the Torah. 
In this paper then each form of scholarship is used for different purposes. Any matter of philosophy is dealt with entirely through Jewish scholarship. Modern secular scholarship is by definition foreign to a discussion of traditional Jewish philosophy and values. Similarly, questions of normative Jewish practice and law are described and discussed in the method of traditional Jewish legal scholarship. In trying to imagine the best Orthodox Jewish school, it is crucial that the Jewish content be completely authentic. Secular scholarship is used in matters of modern history and in describing a particular secular vision of education.
An exciting aspect of this investigation was the discovery of convergence of vision regarding education between these two separate world-views. Certainly secular visions are not monolithic, there are multiple secular visions of education. I have chosen to present a single educational vision, not because it is “right” in the secular sense, but because it approaches “right” in the traditional Jewish sense. That is, I am particularly attracted to this secular view of education because I find that it describes a vision that is very much in keeping with Orthodox Jewish philosophy. My integration of the secular and the Jewish is limited to a single observation: These two world-views  are converging in their description of appropriate schooling and educational methods. It is the school to which this convergence points that I suggest we implement.
An Overview of What is to Come
Chapter 2 examines the modern history of American and Jewish education as it relates to the development of the day school and the emergence of the yeshiva ketana. Chapter 3 returns to classic Jewish source material to examine in detail what traditional Jewish sources throughout the generations saw as the function and goals of elementary Jewish Education. Chapter 4 will look in detail at the crucial question of the place of secular studies in Jewish elementary education. While many people, from many perspectives, have studied the question of secular and Jewish studies, few have examined it from the specific perspective of elementary education. Chapter 5 will discuss the specific needs of students in today’s society. Chapter 6 considers what secular theories of education are teaching us today about how best to educate children. In it we will pay special attention to new theories that seem to have returned to many traditional structures and ideas. Chapter 7 will paint the picture of what our schools might be. Chapter 8 will describe incremental change. Chapter 9 returns to the questions raised in this introduction and attempts to offer a meaningful response.
CHAPTER II
	HISTORICAL DEVELOPMENT OF THE DAY SCHOOL

Many factors contributed to the growth and development of day schools in America into the specific institutions that they are. Their current status as ubiquitous in the Orthodox Jewish community was not at all obvious to observers at the beginning of the past century. As late as 1937, Israel Chipkin, the educational director of the Jewish Education Association of New York City stated that day schools “must always remain the opportunity of the exclusive few” (see also Kaplan, 1929 pp. 127-130; as cited in Brickman, 1967 p. 178). This historical overview demonstrates that there are many elements of today’s day schools that are neither traditional nor essential to Jewish education. Rather, many components of the modern day school were designed to serve a particular need at a particular time. They were designed to be, as much as possible, like public schools.
Although there were certainly Jews in America before 1900, the Jews that are responsible for the start of the American day school movement arrived in America in the wave of Eastern European immigration at the turn of the century (Dushkin, 1944; Rauch, 1978 p. 89; Rauch, 1984 p. 135). “The American Jewish community is largely the creation of East-European immigrants and their descendants. This marked circumstance is not only due to their preponderant numbers, but also to the intellectual stature of their spokesmen and leaders” (Parzen, 1954 p. 154). During this period (1881-1914) two million Jews arrived on American shores, and most of them stayed in major metropolitan areas (Cremin, 1988 p. 140). Their educational experiences in Europe , the public schools they encountered here in America, and the attitudes about education these both represented, were to have a profound affect on the schools they would create.
Jewish Education in Eastern Europe         
Orthodox Jewish education in Eastern Europe changed dramatically after World War I (Menses, 1946 p. 116; Eisenstein, 1950). Before the world war, education throughout Europe was much like it had been for hundreds of years. The cheder (lit. room) was the main elementary educational institution. It was an all-boys school with instruction in Yiddish. That education was entirely scholastic, entirely Jewish, and terminal. Most students finished formal education between ages 10 and 13, at that point they apprenticed to a tradesman. Rauch (1978 p. 126) mentions that the Polish Jewish community enforced compulsory education on boys ages 6 to 13. Although the school day was long, students did not spend their entire day studying. Students were taught in small groups, and students who were not being taught were often free to play.  The cheder was organized much like a one room school house, and the groups were organized based not on age, but on academic standing. In a 10 hour day, students were taught as little as ½ hour. The rest of the time was spent on independent work, review, and play. Play was an important part of the cheder and was used as a motivator for study (Ginzberg, 1928; Golumb, 1946; Pilch, 1952; Rauch, 1978 p. 130; Parsons, 1983 p. 12; Matanky, 1989).
There were three types of  cheder. Students traveled through them as they mastered the curriculum for each. The first level, or Dardeki Cheder, taught basic literacy and prayers. The second cheder was the Chumash Cheder which taught Bible with Rashi’s commentary. And finally, the third cheder was the Talmud Cheder where boys studied Talmud. Generally youngsters of three or four entered the Dardeki Cheder. They stayed there till they had mastered the siddur and prayers. Children of around 7 or 8 entered the Chumash Cheder. A few years later students progressed into the Talmud Cheder. The opportunity to learn a trade was available to students of ten, and starting at that age many dropped out to pursue a livelihood. Cheder was complete by thirteen, by which point students either chose to pursue a livelihood or continue in yeshiva (Ginzberg, 1928; Golumb, 1946; Pilch, 1952; Rauch, 1978 p. 130; Parsons, 1983 p. 12; Matanky, 1989).
With the end of World War I, numerous changes came to traditional Jewish education in Eastern Europe. Compulsory secular education was introduced almost universally in Eastern Europe requiring all children to go to either government schools or government accredited schools. The traditional Jewish community responded to this with a concerted effort to create what might be called day schools. In 1912 Agudath Israel was formed to provide, “the solution of all problems facing the Jewish people in the spirit of Torah”  (as cited in Helmreich, 1982 p. 15).  Part of their mission was the oversight and improvement of elementary education. In 1917 the first Bais Yaakov school for girls was started by Sarah Schenirer. It was the start of a dramatic change. By 1924 there were 20 Bais Yaakov schools in Poland, with a combined student population of 2000 students (Eisenstein, 1950 p. 83). In 1929 at the third Agudath Israel conference, an elementary educational division, Horev, was formed to oversee the boys schools (Menses, 1946). But already by 1922, the Agudah was so successful at meeting the secular demands of the Polish government that the Polish Ministry of Education declared the Agudah schools “equivalent to state schools” (as cited in Eisenstein, 1950 p. 78). This success was brought about by a curriculum that included approximately 14 hours of secular study per week with 18 to 22 hours per week on traditional Jewish subjects. This suggests a school day of only seven hours, if the school week was Sunday through Thursday! There was a strong preference for using Orthodox Jewish teachers to present the secular material. To support these endeavors Horev established a school in Warsaw to train teachers using a combination of Jewish and secular education (Eisenstein, 1950 pp. 78-82). In Russia, where the government required that some secular studies be taught by Russian educators, there were, mostly unsuccessful, attempts to bribe the instructor not to teach rather than expose the students to the attitudes of the secular teacher  (Pilch, 1952 p. 17).
The Horev schools were destroyed along with their Jewish communities during World War II. The Agudath Israel organization did however successfully transplant itself to the United States, and many of its leaders were instrumental in the development of the day school movement in America.
American Public School Education  circa 1900
In 1890 over 77% of American school children attended school in rural schoolhouses. But for those in the city, the school had already begun to take on many characteristics which remain familiar to this day. Students received homework, grades, and report cards. Schools had a nine month calendar. Teachers were trained professionals (though not as much so as they are now). Desks were set in rows, and though many were bolted in these rows, moveable desks had already made their appearance. These desks faced a teachers’ desk and blackboard. Students were divided into age segregated classes that were presided over by a single teacher who followed a set curriculum (Cuban, 1984 p. 18).
Urbanization radically affected education. With urbanization, came the professionalization of education. Teachers were expected to be better educated. More education became academic and formal, trades that were formerly taught through apprenticeship began to require formal schooling (Cremin, 1988).
Compulsory Education
In the second half of the nineteenth century more and more states instituted forms of compulsory education. In rural areas these laws were generally unenforceable. As a result, these laws were first implemented in cities, and as cities grew, so did the scope of these laws. Brooklyn was enforcing a compulsory school law as early as 1880 (“Compulsory education in Brooklyn”, 1880) but the laws were not generally effective for at least another twenty years (Katz, 1976 p. 21; Netboy, 1980 p. 32; Cremin, 1988).
In studying compulsory education legislation in the United States from 1870 to 1915, Eisenberg states that politicians who introduced compulsory education “wanted to use the public school to create and preserve a unique American culture” (1988 p. vii). To that end, they “introduced the flag and pledge of allegiance into the classroom” (1988 p. 3). These efforts reached a peak in Oregon’s 1922 legislation which required attendance in a public school. This law was overturned by the United States Supreme Court in Pierce v. Society of Sisters. This court case seems to be a watershed event in the reverse trend towards more openness to diversity. That is, while compulsory education legislation was an attempt to create a single American culture, court challenges to these laws were often an attempt to promote diversity. In the words of the Court, “The fundamental theory of liberty upon which all governments in this Union repose excludes any general power of the state to standardize its children” (Pierce v. Society of Sisters, 1925). This trend towards diversity continued to grow and be supported by court action. In 1943 the court struck down the mandatory salute to the flag, further reversing the attempt to create a single American culture. The court opines, “Compulsory unification of opinion achieves only the unanimity of the graveyard” (West Virginia State Board of Education v. Barnette, 1943).
Lines (1985 p. 1) observes that “compulsory education laws are the primary legal tool for regulating private schools.” And indeed, when there was strong support for these laws, there was an attempt to strongly regulate private schools. As this support has waned, so has the attempt to regulate private schools. Lines (1985 p. 29) suggests that strict regulation of private schools continues to become increasingly difficult because parents are looking for alternatives to the public schools. Compulsory education laws originally reflected the general support for mandatory public education. As parents become willing to send their children to alternative educational institutions there is little support for state intervention. Mrozinski (1978) noted a similar trend when he said, “The era of questioning the usefulness of these laws is here” (p. 5).
Jewish Communal Attitudes Toward the Early Day School
The pressure to melt into a single American culture was not only imposed upon the Jewish community by external forces but by internal pressures as well. The desire to assimilate into American culture was present within every part of the Jewish community of the early twentieth century - even within the Orthodox. And for most of the Jewish community,  that desire expressed itself, in part, in an eagerness to participate in the public education system. Many Jewish educators of this period felt it inappropriate to organize schools that would supplant the public schools (Dushkin, 1944; Brickman, 1967).  As Inbar (1979 p. 14) points out, “The American Jewish child integrates into the American society through the public school.” And even if Orthodox Jewish leaders may have been quick to promote the day school, certainly “among the committed there were some who were convinced that the yeshiva had no place in the alien soil of America. ... Public School and the supplementary Hebrew classes were adequate for the American Jewish youngster” (Brickman, 1967 p. 177). As late as 1944, Dushkin (1944 p. 62) is concerned with the “‘anti-public school’ implications” of day school. Tannenbaum (1993) recalls that “the overwhelming majority of Orthodox families living in the community [where a day school was available], plus their non-Orthodox neighbors who constituted the overwhelming majority of all residents, did not send their children to day school, either because they couldn’t afford it or because they shunned it as an anachronism of the Old Country” (pp. 35-36).
The result of this external and internal support and pressure towards assimilation was an odd experience for those Orthodox Jewish students who attended public schools.
Of the twenty students in the class, nineteen were Jewish and at least half Orthodox, yet there seemed to be an unspoken agreement that in school it was bad manners to associate on the basis of this common background. Good manners dictated that you kept your religious convictions undercover. One simply did not go about flaunting his Jewishness. It was embarrassing for everyone. 
So, in a school whose student body was ninety-five percent Jewish and whose teaching staff was ninety-nine percent Jewish (the Irish superintendent being the only non-Jew in the entire establishment), from nine to three each day we went through the motions of living in a goyish [non-Jewish] world. Though we celebrated Passover and Chanukkah at home, in school it was Easter and bunny eggs, Xmas trees and carols and bells. The glee club resounded with church hymns, which we sang in impassioned voices, and the ‘Bible’ selection we read in assembly was about the child born in the manger. (Rosengarten, 1992 pp. 6-7)
Early Day Schools
Eduardo Rauch, in discussing the history of day schools in America makes it clear that early American Jewish history had no bearing on the development of the modern day school. “There is hardly any continuity in Jewish life between the one conducted by the Jewish population here in the 1870’s and the American Jewish scene say, in 1917”  (1978 p. 89). Alvin Schiff (Schiff, 1966) delineates three distinct periods in the development of the modern American day school: Pioneer Yeshivos (1880-1916), Emergence of Modern America Yeshiva (1917-1939), Great Expansion (1940-1964). As his study was published in 1968, it does not characterize the ensuing decades. It seems reasonable to suggest the title “Growth and Diversity” for the years 1965-2000.
Pioneer Yeshivos
Yeshibath Etz Chaim opened its doors in Brooklyn in 1886. Many identify this as the first yeshiva of the modern day school era. The school was opened as a free school for poor boys. It provided traditional Jewish studies all day. Additionally, there were two hours daily, from 4 to 6 p.m., where secular studies were taught (Margoshes and Jewish Community of New York City, 1919 p. 1201; Schiff, 1966 p. 30). Jewish studies were taught in Yiddish, while secular studies were taught in English (Klaperman, 1955). This seemingly modern innovation did not seem particularly noteworthy or controversial at the time. The school was identified as a yeshiva in the “strict Orthodox ... custom of Poland and Russia” (as cited in Schiff, 1966 p. 30). While it is not entirely clear why the school chose to offer secular studies, a number of factors probably played a role. Parents were very eager to have their children receive a secular education, and would not easily give up that opportunity. By offering a small amount of secular studies in the afternoon, the school allayed the fears of the parents, and were able to devote far more time to Jewish learning then any Talmud Torah that began its school day only after the public school had completed its day (Schiff, 1966 p. 31). Parsons (1983 p. 23) suggests that it might have been a concession to mandatory school laws. This suggestion seems reasonable. Although mandatory school laws were generally not well enforced until WWI (Katz, 1976; Cremin, 1988), Harper’s coverage of compulsory education enforcement in Brooklyn of 1880, suggests that Brooklyn was ahead of its time in this respect (“Compulsory education in Brooklyn, 1880).
One of the first secular teachers of Yeshibath Etz Chaim was Abraham Cahan. Through him we get a picture of the secular program of this first modern day school. The secular department was run much like a one room school house. Two teachers taught everything from early literacy to eighth grade graduation. Cahan was the senior teacher at 23, the other teacher was a boy of about 14 who had just graduated public school himself.  The secular curriculum was poorly directed because the school administration had little secular background. Nonetheless, Cahan records that the plan was to cover the same basic syllabus as the public schools (Klaperman, 1955 p. 50; Cahan, 1969 pp. 371-374). Yeshibath Etz Chaim eventually merged with the then new Rabbi Isaac Elchanon Theological Seminary and became the seed from which Yeshiva University was born. In this process of growth, the elementary school was eventually abandoned. Other similar schools took its place. The Rabbi Jacob Joseph Yeshiva began in 1900. Originally, it was called Yeshivat Beth Sefer Tiffereth Jerusalem, it changed its name in 1902 after the death of Rabbi Jacob Joseph (Parsons, 1983 p. 24).  It is still in operation today as an elementary yeshiva day school.
Emergence of the Modern Day School
 In 1917 (Parsons, 1983 p. 59) or 1918 (Schiff, 1966; Kramer, 1979) Yeshivath Torah Vodaath was founded in Williamsburg. In 1921 (Kramer, 1979 p. 19; Parsons, 1983 p. 63) or 1923 (Pilch, 1952) Rabbi Shraga Faivel Mendlowitz became the principal. Choosing Rabbi Mendlowitz as principal was a radical step for the school. It had been founded with a Modern Orthodox and Religious Zionist orientation (hence the name Torah Vodaath meaning Torah and [secular] knowledge) (Parsons, 1983 p. 59). Rabbi Mendlowitz was clearly more traditional; he had been educated in a number of traditional Hungarian yeshivos (Rosenblum and Sorski, 2001 pp. 29-33). When Torah Vodaath first opened, it taught Talmud in Yiddish, but there was a serious Hebrew language component to the curriculum. With the coming of Rabbi Mendlowitz, that component dwindled significantly (Scharfstein, 1962 III p. 128; Schiff, 1966 pp. 40-41). The Depression slowed the growth of new yeshivos quite a bit, and forced the old ones to develop themselves very carefully. Torah Vodaath was extremely successful. By the end of this era, in 1939, it was the largest yeshiva in America with approximately one-thousand students in grades 1 through 12 (Schiff, 1966 p. 39).
In 1919 the Jewish community of New York city produced a register that described the organizational structures of the community. Of day schools it says:
There are four parochial schools in America, all of which are situated in New York City. Whereas the weekday school supplements the public school, the Jewish parochial school substitutes it, teaching both Jewish and secular subjects. The Jewish studies are taught from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m., and the secular subjects are taught from 3 to 7 p.m. All of the 985 pupils of these schools are boys.
The secular curriculum in these schools, consisting of 4,800 hours of instruction, provides for fewer hours than does the minimum public school curriculum of New York, which calls for 7,190 hours for the seven-year course. But this difference is chiefly due to the fact that the parochial schools do not teach certain of the subjects, such as elementary science, manual training, music, etc. In the fundamentals (English, mathematics, geography, penmanship, etc.), the parochial school provides for practically as many hours as does the minimum public school curriculum. (Margoshes and Jewish Community of New York City, 1919 p. 394)
In 1929 Abraham Kaplan surveyed all the existing day schools in New York City. At the time, only one day school, in Baltimore, existed outside New York. Kaplan lists fifteen day schools, all but two being extremely traditional schools.  All thirteen of these schools were all-boys schools. Six schools started before 1927 used Yiddish as the language of instruction for Jewish studies. One of those was in the midst of transitioning to Hebrew. The other two schools started before 1927, and three of the newer schools used Hebrew. There is no report on the practicees of the other two schools. About half of the traditional schools, primarily those started prior to 1927, had Jewish studies until 3 p.m. every day and secular studies between 4 and 7 p.m. on Sunday through Thursday. Generally, the newer schools completed Jewish studies by 1 p.m.  and scheduled secular studies from 2 to 5 p.m. (Kaplan, 1929). A monthly progress report was sent to parents from each of the two departments “like every school” (Kaplan, 1929 p. 54). None of the schools had a summer vacation longer than 5 weeks, and most had vacations of only 2 weeks. All the traditional schools had two supervisors, one for Jewish studies and one for secular studies. Kaplan records that there was no effective government supervision of the schools. The city claimed it was a state responsibility and the state claimed it was a city one. Nonetheless, he observed that every school carried out its secular educative function as demanded by the law. Secular teachers were required by each of the schools to be credentialed by the State of New York. No other requirements existed. Jewish studies teachers had few, if any, formal requirements except perhaps that they be religious Jews. No specific credential was accepted. Rather, teachers were hired based primarily on principals’ observation of model lessons. Schools were organized into classrooms, but they were generally divided by ability rather than age. This meant that there was a wide age range in many classrooms of both the secular and Jewish departments. Even a nine year age range was typical in some schools. Some schools avoided the wide age range in the secular department by only accepting students for their first grade, and only if they were age appropriate. The English curriculum was “the Public School curriculum with slight omissions so as to fit it into the amount of time available. The omissions mainly concern such subjects as manual work, singing, physical training and sometimes the science department …. In general it may be said that the schools conserve more academic subjects and thus meet the requirements of the Board of Regents of the State Board of Education successfully” (Kaplan, 1929 p. 100). While in this way the secular curriculum was carefully articulated, Kaplan found no such articulation in any of the schools’ Jewish studies departments.
New York State Board of Regents and the Emerging Day School
Starting in 1938 the NY State Board of Regents attempted to enforce certain provisions of the state mandatory schooling laws on the existing day schools.
The question before the Regents is whether such instruction as provided for children of compulsory school age within the  hours indicated during the afternoon meets the provisions mandated by the statute, - that instruction of children of compulsory school age ‘elsewhere than at a public school’ shall be ‘for at least as many hours’ as provided for in the public schools where he resides ‘and within the hours specified therefor [sic].’(Memorandum submitted to the Commissioner and the Board of Regents. July 20, 1938. as cited in Wiley, 1944a pp. 4-5)
The answer the Regents gave was clear, day schools were required by law to teach secular studies during all the hours a student would normally be in public school. This requirement was perceived by the day school leadership as a direct threat to the day schools’ ability to survive (Dinin, 1940 p. 212; Schiff, 1966 pp. 227-228).
Although the issue was raised as early as 1938, it was not until 1942 that day school leadership met with Regents representatives to try and find a mutually acceptable solution. This 1942 meeting was described in detail in both Schiff (1966 p. 227-228) and Bunim (1989). In 1942, Jewish educators and leaders presented oral and written testimony to the Board of Regents. Among the points that were made in the oral testimony was that the secular education in the day schools was preparing students for the Regents’ exams as well as public schools of the day. In written testimony, it was further argued that the then current legal climate required that the Board accommodate the diversity of the day school. The Board of Regents voted to exempt the day schools from this requirement. Segal (1952 p. 437) reports that the exemption was contingent on  the day schools’ agreement that they would begin their secular studies by early afternoon and  hire a supervisor for general studies.
What is most interesting about this description is that it is agreed upon by so many sources, and yet is almost certainly not completely true. From the state documents available it is clear that there was no such vote. Rather, the Board of Regents agreed to allow improvement to occur over time rather than insisting on immediate compliance. As a first step towards compliance, the Regents were willing to consider secular studies starting at 12:30 p.m. and going until at least 4:30 p.m. as acceptable. To facilitate and guarantee the improvements that were required, the Regents required the day schools to hire a single superintendent to oversee all the day schools.
New York City schools at the time included some part-time schools that operated from 12:30 to 4:30 p.m.. It was acknowledged that, as an “emergency expediency,” day schools operating within the city of New York might be within the legal requirements if they had secular classes during those same hours. It is clear that this was never expected to be the final solution, merely a step towards regular school hours. Further, it was only suggested as a solution for schools already in operation, all of which were in the New York City school district. This concession was not meant to be construed as a broad acceptance (Wade, 1944; Wiley, 1944b). 
The Regents’ hopes were never fully realized. There was never a superintendent over all the day schools in New York. Though a superintendent was indeed hired, it is clear that he never had jurisdiction over all the day schools nor did he ever accomplish what the Regents envisioned for him (Selig, 1944; Wiley, 1944c). It is not even entirely clear how long the position existed. Further, even the emergency expediency of an early afternoon schedule was never universally adopted by the day school (Wiley, 1944b).
In examining the Regents’ archived letters of 1944 two things become clear. First, the Regents were not yet satisfied with the condition of the day school’s secular education. Second, the Jewish community perceived the issue as one that had been resolved favorably in the 1942 meetings. In a memorandum to the commissioner of the NY Board of Regents, Associate Commissioner Wiley describes a phone call he received from a rabbi in Rochester, NY who wished to open a day school, “with religious instruction in the morning and with the secular instruction in the afternoon ‘as has already been approved by the Board of Regents.’” Even Wiley himself understood the implications. “It might appear that our method of dealing with these schools in New York City has been interpreted in effect, if not in fact, as evidence of approval” (Wiley, 1944c). 
There is no evidence of any further efforts on the part of the Regents to gain compliance. And while many of the records have been destroyed or lost, it seems reasonable to assume that “in effect, if not in fact” the agreement of 1942, with the part-time standard of New York City, set the standards for day schools throughout the state of New York, and in doing that, set a precedent for acceptance throughout the country.
Great Expansion of the Day School
Rabbi Mendlowitz was a man of vision and leadership. He felt the responsibility to change the educational climate of the country (Kaminetsky and Torah Umesorah National Society for Hebrew Day Schools, 1963 p. 3). He believed that his success at Torah Vodaath could be replicated across the country. And so he goaded and convinced lay leadership, his students, and other rabbis into creating Torah Umesorah. Created in 1944, Torah Umesorah was formed expressly to create day schools in Jewish communities across the United States. Additionally, they would aid in the development of professional training, and would provide administrative support for existing day schools (Kramer, 1979 p. 25). Torah Umesorah had an interesting organizational structure. Besides the lay Board of Directors, there was a Rabbinical Administrative Board. The articles of incorporation give this rabbinical council “supervisory control and direction of all matters concerning and relating to (a) religious problems and questions, and to (b) the religious functions, purposes and objects of the corporation” (as cited in Kramer, 1979 p. 30). That is, by original constitution, Torah Umesorah had as their absolute authority a rabbinical board. The original rabbinical board included: Rabbi S. M. Bloch, Rabbi Moses Feinstein, Rabbi Reuben Grozowsky, Rabbi S. Heiman, Rabbi Isaac Hutner, Rabbi Abraham Jofon, Rabbi Abraham Kalmanowitz, Rabbi Aaron Kotler (who became the chair), Rabbi Israel Rosonberg, Rabbi I. Ruderman, Rabbi L. Seltzer, Rabbi Mordechai Shulman, Rabbi Eliezer Silver, and Rabbi Mendel Zaks (Kramer, 1979). The existence and makeup of this board is quite significant. First, it adds religious weight and authority to the actions of Torah Umesorah. These rabbis gave their active support to this organization; it must be assumed that they agreed with the basic approach of their work. Additionally, and related to that, we see the effort at Orthodox unity that was to be a hallmark of Torah Umesorah. The Rabbinical Council of America, Young Israel, Agudath Israel, and the Orthodox Union all stood behind Torah Umesorah (Kramer, 1979 p. 31).
Torah Umesorah did not create the day school explosion all by itself. A number of factors made the years from 1940-1964 fortuitous for the creation of day schools across America. Schiff (Schiff, 1966 pp. 8-15, 75-80) identifies a range of factors. The success of earlier efforts gave the dedicated leadership that existed a model to draw from and an example to showcase. Additionally, it meant that there were American born students, now adults, who could argue for the day school. The destruction of European Jewry and the creation of the State of Israel, and later the Six Day War, motivated Jews to become more attached to their Jewish roots. Post World War II immigration added an influx of teachers, and potential parents. And the prosperity of the time meant that people could afford the luxury of paying for schooling that was available free. Cremin (1988 p. 116) identifies the changing attitude toward Americanization that made day schools more acceptable to Jew and non-Jew alike. He describes the growing acceptance of American culture as a “mosaic” of diversity rather than a “melting pot”. Nonetheless, as Kramer concludes, “Individual schools might for their own reasons ascribe their birth to forces other than TU [Torah Umesorah], but most of them must credit the favorable climate of opinion which TU helped create. And this in the very least is the lasting legacy of TU” (Kramer, 1979 p. 312). Although Torah Vodaath may have been the model for day schools, there were a number of changes that were made when creating schools around the country. Most of the new schools were co-educational, and most used Hebrew as the language of instruction for Jewish studies (Segal, 1952 p. 78; Schiff, 1966 p. 92).
In 1952, Samuel Segal published a study of  all the elementary day schools in New York city through 1948. It contains a snapshot of the state of day school education. Segal identified 66 day schools operating in New York City in 1948, and another 55 operating in 41 communities around the country. At the time, he identified 21 all-boys schools, 13 all-girls schools, and 23 co-educational schools (this leaves 9 schools unaccounted for). Of those schools, 26 were schools with a traditional program in Yiddish, and 25 were traditional programs with instruction in Hebrew.
Table 1
Traditional elementary day schools, NYC 1948, by gender and language
Gender	Language	Number	
Boys	Yiddish	15	
	Hebrew	6	
Girls	Yiddish	8	
	Hebrew	5	
Co-ed	Yiddish	3	
	Hebrew	14	
Totals		51	

Note: (Data for table from Segal, 1952 p. 118)
Even among the most traditional schools he studied, the parent body was not exclusively Orthodox. Of 39 traditional schools that responded to a survey, only two schools claimed daily minyan attendance for all their fathers, and only three additional schools claimed daily minyan attendance for a majority of their fathers. Of those same 39 schools, only five claimed Shabbos observance for all their families, and only three more claimed it for the majority of their families (Segal, 1952 p. 177). Of 22 traditional schools that responded, only eight required any religious observance among the general studies faculty (Segal, 1952 p. 216). “As a rule, however, All-Day schools maintain two groups of instructors for the two kinds of curricula. These groups differ radically in almost every area touched by this investigation” (Segal, 1952 p. 184). These differences were most extreme in traditional schools, but existed even in the less traditional schools. Among the differences noted were the differences in education. 63% of the Jewish studies faculty of traditional day schools had no college background. 32% had no secular background at all! In contrast, 95% of the secular teachers were college graduates. Conversely, about 55% of the Jewish studies teachers had advanced education in yeshiva, while less than 1% of the secular teachers had an advanced yeshiva background and only about 17% had even a basic Jewish education (talmud torah or elementary day school) (Segal, 1952 pp. 205-210). Segal noted that the Jewish studies classrooms often had age differences as large as five years, and even a seven or eight year disparity within one classroom was not uncommon (Segal, 1952 p. 269). The secular classroom was much more homogeneous, having a normal distribution of ages as compared to the public school (Segal, 1952 p. 352). As mentioned earlier, government pressure had forced the schools to conform to a certain schedule. Segal found that all the schools had secular studies from about 1 until about 5 p.m..  In comparing the traditional day school with New York public schools, Segal had an insightful observation.  The public schools had 25 hours a week of instruction each year for a total of 150 year/hours  in grades one through six as compared to the traditional schools that had about 20 hours a week for a total of about 120 year/hours. (The year/hour is used to compare the total time spent on a task over a number of school years. It is the total of each year’s weekly hours. For example, if five hours each week were spent on reading in first grade, and two hours each week were spent on reading in second grade, the total year/hours for reading in those two grades would be seven.) However, public schools distributed their time over three general areas. About 30% of the total instructional time was directed to student health, about 25% was directed towards art and music, and about 45% was directed to the core academic subjects of language, social sciences, science, and math. The traditional day school used around 80% of its general studies instructional time for core academic subjects. “Even allowing for the smaller number of total hours allotted to general studies in the [traditional day school]… the time provided for [core academics]…probably compares favorably with that provided in the public schools” (Segal, 1952 p. 368). “The chief concern of the school appears to be to cover the ground outlined in the syllabi of the New York City Board of Education. Instead of constituting the basis for teacher-planning programs of study in line with the needs, interests, and aptitudes of the pupils, the syllabi are employed in this school as blueprints for programs which permit no deviation” (Segal, 1952 p. 369).
In 1959, Alvin Schiff studied a broad cross-section of day schools then in operation in New York city. He found that 60% of the schools then in operation used Hebrew as the language of instruction for their Jewish studies. 25% used Yiddish, and 10% used a combination of English with Hebrew and/or Yiddish. The remaining schools in his study used Hebrew for instruction in the lower grades and used either English or Yiddish for instruction in the upper grades. “The typical Jewish Elementary day school studied in New York City operates as two distinct departments. In thirty-three schools the Hebrew program is scheduled during the morning” (1959 p. 48). In his later work, he adds that these two departments are “administered respectively by ‘Hebrew’ and ‘English’ principals. The religious orientation, educational and professional training of these supervisors usually differ significantly” (1966 p. 121). About the general studies curriculum he says:
The course of study of the local or state board of education is generally followed in the Jewish day schools. The same texts and materials used in the public schools are employed. An average of sixteen hours a week in the primary grades, eighteen hours in the elementary grades and about twenty hours a week in the junior and senior high schools are devoted to general studies. Teachers and principals of the general studies departments are engaged on the basis of their competence in general education, often without any consideration to their religious views. In some cases, particularly in yeshivot outside New York, there are non-Jews serving as teachers and principals in the secular departments. (Schiff, 1966 p. 120)
Table 2
Traditional elementary day schools, 1965, by gender and language
Gender	Language	New York City	U.S. excluding NYC	
Boys	Yiddish	32	4	
	Hebrew	4	3	
Girls	Yiddish	11	0	
	Hebrew	7	2	
Co-ed	Yiddish	2	4	
	Hebrew	27	76	
Totals		85	89	

Note: (Data for table from Schiff, 1966 p. 92)
As is readily apparent from this table, the types of schools that were available in New York City were very different from the schools available in the rest of the country. In almost every community outside New York, there was a single co-educational school that used Hebrew as the language of Jewish studies instruction. In New York, almost two-thirds of the available schools were single-sex and most of those schools taught in Yiddish. Hebrew was by far the most popular language of instruction in the co-educational schools.
Age of Growth and Diversity
The near universal acceptance of the day school within the Orthodox community and the development of diverse day schools both to the right and the left progressed in stages. In 1953 Fox exclaimed that, “The Hebrew Day School movement has come of age” (1953p. 4). As early as 1951 the Reconstuctionist magazine observed the trend towards all day religious schooling, and called upon the left wing movements to sponsor schools of their own (“The Trend to the denominational all-day school”,1951) .  In 1952, Segal identified 57 elementary day schools in New York City. 49 of those were strictly traditional, and eight were somewhat progressive in nature. By 1968 Diskind recorded that the Orthodox Jewish world was “united in their view that it is essential that educational priority be placed on the day school” (p. 65). In the 1958-59 school year almost 35% of Orthodox Jewish students were in day schools. By the 1966-67 school year that figure had gone up to almost 49% (Inbar, 1979 pp. 20-21). Certainly, by the 1960s, day schools had proved themselves enough that new types of day schools began proliferating. While until then, each community would have a single day school serving the entire community, in the 60s diversification of the schools within a community begins with Conservative Schechter schools on the left (Diskind, 1968), and cheder and yeshiva ketana schools on the right. In 1958 there were 20 Conservative day schools with an enrollment of 1,400 students (Rudavsky, 1965 p. 101). In 1973, David Singer (1973 p. 53) put total Conservative enrollment at 7,000. By this time, day schools had become ubiquitous in the United States. All but eight communities of over 5,000 Jews had at least one day school. Total day school enrollment was 75,000 which accounted for 8% of Jewish religious school enrollment. The years 1975-1985 are referred to by Zeldin as a “quiet revolution” in Reform education. This referred to the growing acceptance of the idea of day schools within the Reform movement (Zeldin and Union of American Hebrew Congregations General Assembly, 1985).  In 1986, Jewish day school enrollment comprised 130,000 students in 587 schools and accounted for 30% of all the Jewish religious school enrollment in the country. This includes 67 Conservative Solomon Schechter day schools with a total enrollment of 11,600 and 11 Reform day schools that had 2600 students (Schiff, 1987 p. 221). About  one third of the total day school population, or about 43,000 students were in cheder and yeshiva ketana schools of the Ultra or Strictly Orthodox (Schiff, 1987 p. 224). By that time, Schiff declared, “Basically, all practicing Orthodox Jews send their children to day schools” (Schiff, 1987 p. 222). Tannenbaum most aptly described the diversity of new day schools. “The day school which employed me was established to satisfy a desire for a particular programmatic nuance, not to fulfill a need for Jewish day school education per se which was already available in that neighborhood. As a matter of record, many of today’s day schools exist to realize a desire rather than a need” (Tannenbaum, 1993 p. 43).
Outside New York, Examples from Baltimore, Chicago, and Providence
Baltimore was the first community outside New York to organize a modern day school.  The Talmudical Academy of Baltimore (TA) was organized in 1917.  The school was originally started by a small group of the most extremely Orthodox Jews in Baltimore. It was an all-boys school with Jewish classes taught in Yiddish. Over time however that changed, and by 1972 most of the Jewish classes were taught in Hebrew. From its inception the secular program paralleled the local public school curriculum and was recognized and accredited by the Maryland Board of Education. Baltimore was also among the first communities to offer school choices. In 1940 an all-girls school opened. In 1941 Beth Tefilloh Day School opened as a Modern Orthodox co-educational school. And in 1952 Shearith Hapletah Day School was founded to provide a more sheltered environment than was provided by TA. Specifically, while TA accepted students irrespective of their personal religious practice, Shearith Hapletah only accepted students from practicing Orthodox religious homes. Additionally, it was important to these parents that instruction be only in Yiddish, and already by this time many of TAs classes were in Hebrew (Bloom, 1972).
In 1938, there was not a single day school in Chicago (Lavin, 1982). The first day school in Chicago which survives today, was the Chicago Jewish Academy (later the Ida Crown Jewish Academy or ICJA). Its first school year began September 1942. Unlike other communities, Chicago’s leaders chose to organize a secondary school, including grades 7-12. It was a co-educational institution with English and Hebrew as the languages of instruction. The leadership felt that they could not expect parents to abandon public school entirely. Conversely, they knew that the only hope of recruiting students was to enlist them before their bar-mitzvah. Once students reached bar-mitzvah they generally abandoned any Jewish education, and there was no hope that they would return to a day school upon entering 9th grade. The 7th and 8th grade years seemed to be the years that both parents and students would be most amenable to a full day Jewish school. The leadership hoped that once the students were enrolled, they could be convinced to stay. It was understood that secular recognition was crucial for the success of the school and it was therefore pursued vigorously. The school received official recognition from the University of Illinois in 1948, and North Central certification in March of 1956 (Rapoport, 1967).
By 1954, the city of Chicago had five elementary day schools distributed in neighborhoods throughout the city. In 1958 the Hebrew Parochial School, the first modern elementary day school in Chicago closed, and two new schools, Central Hebrew Day (later Arie Crown) and Beth Yaakov Parochial opened. “By the end of the sixties the A.T.T. [Associated Talmud Torahs of Chicago, a voluntary oversight board that encompasses all of the Orthodox elementary day schools in the Chicago area] could look upon an educational empire extending to and reaching out to every section of the city, having dotted the map of Chicago with flourishing day schools … north and south, southwest and southeast, in Rogers Park and Lincoln, and on Lake Shore from Belmont to Evanston” (Mishkin, 1986a p. 203). In 1985, there were nine elementary day schools in the Chicago area (Mishkin, 1986a). Since that time, two more have opened their doors, Shearith Yisroel, a chasidic all-boys cheder with Judaic instruction in Yiddish, and Sephardic Hebrew Day School, a co-educational school with Judaic instruction in Hebrew (Torah Umesorah National Society for Hebrew Day Schools, 2003). The crucial change since the early years is that the schools can no longer be described as neighborhood schools. With the single exception of Hyde Park’s Akiba Schechter school, all the Orthodox schools serve a single overlapping community on the north side of Chicago that encompasses Chicago’s Peterson Park and Rogers Park neighborhoods and neighboring northern suburbs, primarily Lincolnwood and Skokie.
In February 1947, the Providence Hebrew Day School (PHDS) opened its doors as a co-educational institution with instruction in English. In 1962, the director of the school, Rabbi Akiva Egozi,  recorded that the school was organized to “blend the values of their Jewish heritage with the nobility of American democracy and tradition” (as cited in Horvitz, 1982 p. 455). Horvitz records that the school’s beginning was delayed and clouded by questions of the un-American nature of a parochial school. The school responded to these pressures by choosing the same textbooks as the public school. In addition, the school chose a “short” day that ended at 4 p.m. to insure that children would have time to play after school like their public school neighbors. In the 1946 charter, the school was formed, “for advancing secular and religious education” (as cited in Horvitz, 1982 p. 457). Given the environment, it is telling, but perhaps not surprising, that secular education was mentioned first. The secular department of the school was able to employ experienced teachers as the policy of the Providence School Department of the time was not to employ married teachers. It is perhaps instructive to review the comments of one of the school’s founders. Isaiah Segal (my grandfather) describes the curriculum. “The two programs, Hebrew and English, were to be strictly integrated. The English program was supervised by the Providence School Department and was evaluated by city and state school authorities. The Hebrew Department was similarly supervised and regulated by Torah Umesorah” (as cited in Horvitz, 1982 p. 461). Looking back, it is hard to understand what was meant by the term “integrated.” Certainly they were two separate programs, they were referred to as separate programs and they were supervised by separate agencies.
Part of the success of PHDS is undoubtedly due to the Rabbinic leadership in the community that chose to support the day school and encouraged their congregants to do the same. PHDS enjoyed the support of local rabbis from all the major movements, Orthodox, Conservative and Reform. Indeed the Reform Rabbi William Braude, the only Reform rabbi in Rhode Island at the time,  was one of the few Reform rabbis in the country that supported a day school in 1947. PHDS continued to be a community school attracting students from the entire Jewish community while providing an Orthodox Jewish education through the mid 80s (Horvitz, 1982). At that time, the Conservative community in Providence chose to start a Schechter Conservative Day School. The two schools continue to coexist.
Roots of Current Practice
As we have seen, a number of factors combined to create the institutions we know as day schools. It may be worthwhile to review a number of specific pressures and their influences. First, is the decision to abandon the combination public school and Talmud Torah in favor of a single day school. Tannenbaum explains.
In the shtetl and ghetto, all aspects of community life - family, cheder (schoolroom), study hall, synagogue, workplace, kinship and friendship groups - all contributed to the preservation of Jewish tradition. Each reinforced the other and picked up the slack when any one was weak or missing. The American scene, on the other hand, has had no such powerful, interlocking structure. Here, the Jewish school, almost alone, has to take unprecedented leadership in furthering Jewish identity, quite apart from its traditional role of teaching texts which contain the essentials of heritage. (Tannenbaum, 1993 p. 36)
And yet, even while choosing to take an anti-assimilationist stance by sending their children to day schools, parents were not in favor of total exclusion from American society. As we have seen, many of these parents were not strictly Orthodox in practice. It was important to these parents that their children not give up the American dream. They were only willing to send their children to day schools that had a secular program that would prepare them for American life. This combined with the government requirements for secular education to create traditional schools with secular programs. Indeed, given these government requirements, the European example suggests that there would be few religious barriers to including secular academics in a Jewish school. There was, however, some tension over how much time to spend on secular studies. Enough time needed to be spent to ensure a positive comparison with public schools, but certainly no more time than necessary would be stolen from Jewish studies. These pressures combined to ensure that only the core academic subjects of the secular curriculum would be attempted. Since it was primarily these topics that were assessed, focus on these areas allowed day schools to compete well with public schools that included a more diverse curriculum. It is no accident that Schiff was content to compare academic test scores between day schools and public schools. While he acknowledged the lack of scientific rigor in the comparison, the message he was trying to convey is clear: day schools outperform public schools (Schiff, 1966 p. 146).  The Board of Regents did push all the schools to start secular studies by 1 p.m., but that may well have merely hastened the inevitable. As we saw, the trend was in that direction. 
The directors of many early day schools had little formal secular background. Yet they knew that they needed to compete, and compete well, with the public schools around them. As a result they felt a pressure to conform, to make day schools, as much as possible, like public schools. From the inception of the modern day school, every attempt was made to ensure that the secular curriculum of the day school was parallel and superior to the local public schools (Fox, 1953). And so, it is not surprising that they chose to imitate the public school curriculum slavishly. “The yeshivot do not alter or modify the basic general studies curriculum in use in the dominant system of education. The same syllabi, textbooks and educational realia used in the public schools are employed in the general studies departments of the day schools” (Schiff, 1966 p. 130). This was probably encouraged by the use of public school teachers in many of the schools. Public school teachers may have been chosen to give an aura of respectability to the program. With these teachers came many of the standard practices, especially full classroom instruction, and age segregated classrooms. What is perhaps most interesting is the way in which these things were slowly adopted by the Jewish studies departments of the schools as well.
Perhaps the most pernicious effect of the need to parallel the public school curriculum was the creation of a school day that was separated into two very distinct components.
At 3:00 p.m., Sunday through Thursday, the Jewish Studies teachers went home, and at 3:30 p.m. the General Studies teachers arrived after they had completed work at local public schools. All were American-born, mostly women, credentialed and experienced in their profession, and only one or two were religiously observant. (Tannenbaum, 1993 p. 40)
Although many educators (Axelrod, 1953; Fox, 1953; Goodside, 1953; Swift, 1956; Oschry, 1959) wrote about the need for a Jewish general studies curriculum, and some attempts at integrated curriculum development existed (Goodside, 1951; Burack, 1967; Kreinen, 1989), this innovation was never accepted. In fact, the term was so popular that it came to mean many different things, as we saw in the Providence example, and rarely did it mean any kind of synthesis (Solomon, 1978). The pressures, both from American culture and law, and from within the Jewish community, to conform to a public school culture made this innovation impossible. “The Jewish Day School is founded on the principle that synthesis (or integration) is the necessary theoretical basis for a Jewish child’s adjustment to his larger American environment” (Schiff, 1966 p. 130). Yet, as we have seen, no serious attempt,  has been made to truly integrate the material presented. “For the most part, correlation of a fundamental ongoing curricular nature in which cooperative units of study are developed, executed and evaluated has not taken place even in those schools which advocate such integration” (Schiff, 1966 p. 197). Rather, we present two disparate bodies of knowledge, and leave it to our children to integrate them as best they can.
Changing Conditions
Katz (1976) characterizes the periods of legislative activity surrounding compulsory education. 1852-1900 he designates the “Early Period”, 1900-1930 he calls the “Bureaucratic Phase”, and 1925-1972 he labels the period of legal challenges. These periods represent changing trends in America in regard to schools and society’s expectations and relationship to school. Much of the initial development of day schools took place at a time when America was strongly in favor of compulsory education, and all that it implied. As society’s position on these issues has developed, options present themselves that were not available then.
At the same time, the makeup of the parent body has changed as well. While the early day school had a large percentage of non-observant parents, the yeshiva ketana has a parent body almost exclusively observant (Schiff, 1987; Torah Umesorah National Society for Hebrew Day Schools, 2000). In order to have students, early day schools had to cater to the non-observant parent (Segal, 1952). But with the growth of the observant community comes the opportunity to try something new. The yeshiva ketana no longer needs to cater to the non-observant parent. It need not define a secular program by what the public school is doing. General studies may still be needed, but there is no longer a reason to define them in secular terms. The yeshiva ketana has the flexibility to define an approach that is congruent with its religious approach. The yeshiva ketana can and should develop a curriculum in which the Jewish program is the all inclusive program.
The Conclusion        
The educational system that we have today cannot fairly be called “traditional”. There is no religious advantage to this system, and no need to consciously maintain it. Some innovations to the day school, like the addition of secular studies to the traditional cheder curriculum, were clearly conscious, and as such they represent a precedent that suggests change for new circumstances is appropriate. Other changes, like the age-segregated classroom, letter grading,  and whole class instruction, were products of historic forces. In all cases the changes were not the only possible solution, they were rather the best possible solution for that time and place. With the growth of the Orthodox community, and the diversification of the day school, we have an opportunity now to reexamine the day school and imagine other solutions.
CHAPTER III
	ORTHODOX JEWISH THEORY OF EDUCATION

Components of Jewish Education
Traditional Jewish sources obligate a father to provide three distinct types of education to his sons: limud haTorah (lit. study of the Torah) (Babylonian Talmud, 475 Kiddushin 29a), chinuch b’mitzvoth (lit. dedication to the commandments) (Babylonian Talmud, 475 Suka 42a), and umanus (lit. a trade) (Babylonian Talmud, 475 Kiddushin 29a). Limud haTorah is primarily the academic study of Jewish law and Scripture (Babylonian Talmud, 475 Kiddushin 29a-30b). Chinuch is the actual performance of religious behaviors as a minor, in preparation for those responsibilities as an adult (Babylonian Talmud, 475 Yoma 8:4). Umanus is training for an appropriate means of support as an independent adult (Babylonian Talmud, 475 Kiddushin 29a). Beyond pragmatic vocational training, the Talmud recognizes no responsibility for the father to provide a secular education to his son.
While chinuch is more kinesthetic, and limud more academic, both are seen as primarily moral endeavors. The moral dimension of limud can be seen in the Talmud’s requirement that, “אם דומה הרב למלאך ה' צבאות יבקשו תורה מפיהו ואם לאו אל יבקשו תורה מפיהו” (Babylonian Talmud, 475 Chagiga 15b) “if the teacher is like an angel of the Lord of hosts, they should seek the Law at his mouth, but if not, they should not seek the Law at his mouth!” (Epstein, 1961 Chagiga 15b) This is not only advice given by the Sages of the Talmud, but is codified as part of Jewish law (Maimonides, 1204 Talmud Torah 4:2). Torah can be learned only in a moral environment. Learning Torah from an immoral person may be academic study, but it is not Torah learning, it is not limud (Babylonian Talmud, 475 Taanith 7a). The moral component in chinuch is more self-evident. Chinuch includes acts of charity and kindness. Chinuch is socialization to moral and religious behavior (Babylonian Talmud, 475 Yoma 8:4; Yitzchaki, 1105 Suka 2b drabanan). Even the motivation for umanus is couched in moral terms. It may be primarily a practical matter but the Talmud expresses the requirement in moral terms: Teach him a trade or he may be forced into a life of crime (Babylonian Talmud, 475 Kiddushin 29a). 
Limud HaTorah
The responsibility for limud haTorah is of biblical origin. The Bible tells a father, “ולמדתם אותם את בניכם” “and you shall teach them to your children” (Bible Deuteronomy 11:19). The Talmud and codes, based on this verse, codify the father’s obligation to teach his son Torah (Babylonian Talmud, 475 Kiddushin 29b; Maimonides, 1204 Talmud Torah 1:1; Karo, 1575a YD 245:1).
The requirement to teach a son Torah begins quite early in the child’s life.
ת"ר קטן היודע … לדבר אביו לומדו תורה וק"ש תורה מאי היא א"ר המנונא תורה צוה לנו משה מורשה קהלת יעקב ק"ש מאי היא פסוק ראשון 
(Babylonian Talmud, 475 Suka 42a)
Our Rabbis taught, A minor who … is able to speak, his father must teach him Torah and the reading of the Shema. What (in this context) could be meant by Torah? R. Hamnuna replied, (The Scriptural verse) Moses commanded us a Law, an inheritance of the congregation of Jacob. What (in this context) is meant by the Shema? The first verse. (Epstein, 1961 Suka 42a)
As soon as a child begins to speak, a father must teach him two crucial verses. The first “תורה צוה לנו משה מורשה קהלת יעקב” “The Torah was commanded to us via Moses, an inheritance for the community of Jacob” (Bible Deuteronomy 33:4)  describes the child’s stake in this Torah he is to learn. And the second verse, “שמע ישראל ה‘ אלקנו ה‘ אחד” “Hear Israel, the Lord is our G-d, the Lord is One” (Bible Deuteronomy 6:4) declares the existence of G-d and our relationship to Him. I will return to this early limud at a later time, as there is some indication that this is chinuch and not limud.
The Sifri (Sifri, 189 Ekev 46) derives from the same source verse (Bible Deuteronomy 11:19), a requirement to use Hebrew as the language of instruction for limud. And while this is clearly not accepted as Jewish law, it is quoted by at least one contemporary authority (Wolbe, 1995) as a source that Hebrew is the preferred language of instruction.
The earliest curriculum for limud is found in Avos (Babylonian Talmud, 475 Avos 5:21): “הוא היה אומר בן חמש שנים למקרא בן עשר שנים למשנה … בן חמש עשרה לגמרא” “He used to say: five years (is the age) for (the study of) Scripture, ten-for (the study of) mishnah, … fifteen-for (the study of) talmud” (Epstein, 1961 Avos 5:21).
That is, a father should begin by teaching character recognition from age three till age five (Bartenura, 1488 Avos 5:21). At that time, the father should instruct the child in the Biblical text. That instruction should continue for five years, at which point mishna should be added. The term mishna here does not refer to the text compiled by Rav Yehuda HaNassi. That text did not yet exist when this curriculum was first expressed. Rather, it refers to the simple transmission of oral law, that is, the actual law, with no attempt at formal synthesis or analysis. Some authorities assume that the Mishna compiled by Rav Yehuda HaNassi is an example of mishna as expressed here (see for example Epstein, 1908 YD 245:13). That is, even if Mishna is not the only way to learn mishna, it is a way. This study should continue for five years, at which time the father should introduce talmud. Again here, the word has its original implication of analysis and synthesis of the Torah’s legal principles, rather than the text of the Babylonian Talmud. This can readily be seen from the Talmud’s statement that “מאי בבל א"ר יוחנן בלולה במקרא בלולה במשנה בלולה בתלמוד,” (Babylonian Talmud, 475 Sanhedrin 24a) “What does (the name) Babel connote? R. Johanan answered: (That the study of) Scripture, Mishnah and Talmud was intermingled (therein)” (Epstein, 1961 Sanhedrin 24a). The Babylonian Talmud includes Scripture, mishna, and talmud. The Maharal explicitly identifies these three elements as related to three different types of cognition: חכמה בינה דעת roughly knowledge, comprehension, and synthesis and analysis (Loew, 1609b 5:21).
When the student is fifteen, and throughout the rest of his life, the Talmud in Kiddushin suggests an ongoing study plan dividing ones time among these three topics  “לעולם ישלש אדם שנותיו שליש במקרא שליש במשנה שליש בתלמוד” (Babylonian Talmud, 475 Avoda Zara 19b; Babylonian Talmud, 475 Kiddushin 30a). “One should always divide his years into three: (devoting) a third to Mikra [Scripture], a third to Mishnah, and a third to Talmud.” (Epstein, 1961 Kiddushin 30a brackets mine). While a simple reading of the text suggests an equal division of time, the Darchi Moshe (Isserles, 1573 246:1) quotes the Ran saying that the time should be divided as needed among the three topics. Rabbenu Tam (Tosafos, 1290 Avoda Zara 19b yishalesh adam; Tosafos, 1290 Kiddushin 30a lo tzricha lyomi), based on the previous text in Sanhedrin, suggests that since the text of the Babylonian Talmud consists of a mixture of all these things, a person need not divide his time, but rather can spend all his learning time on this one text. Further, this tripartite curriculum is limited in various ways. The Rambam applies this curriculum only to a young adult, suggesting that eventually a person should master mikra and mishna to the point that all a person’s time can be spent on talmud (Maimonides, 1204 Talmud Torah 1:15). The Bais Yosef (Karo, 1575b YD 246:1) quotes Rav Yerucham as suggesting that this curriculum is a best case scenario, but that today a person should concentrate solely on talmud. Similarly, the Drisha (Katz, 1614 YD 246:9) suggests that the tripartite curriculum is only reasonable if you have nine or more hours a day to  study. With only three or four hours, a person should concentrate on talmud. What is most important for our study however is that this tripartite curriculum only applies to adult students who have already reached the point where facility with talmud, analysis and synthesis, is expected. A student is not expected to enter into the world of theory until he is fifteen years old, until that time, the concrete and textual curriculum of mikra and mishna is mandated (Babylonian Talmud, 475 Avos 5:21). While it is true that the Shach (Cohen, 1663 YD 145:5) disputes this interpretation, the majority of the authorities seem to accept it (Sirkes, 1640; Emden, 1776;  see Levi, 1990p. 349 note 37).
Historically, this curriculum was rarely followed (Loew, 1609a; Matanky, 1989). However, new curriculums were not given the legal status of a custom. Quite the contrary, while admitting that it was not the current practice, authorities throughout the last thousand years have argued for a return to the Avos curriculum (Abrabanel, 1508 5:21; Loew, 1609b; Loew, 1609b 6; Horowitz, 1630 "Shvuos"; Emden, 1776; Eliyahu of Vilna, 1797 8:2; Shneur Zalman of Liady, 1812 Talmud Torah 1:1; Hirsch, 1967 5:21;  see Levi, 1990pp. 213-222). 
In recent times, the Aruch HaShulchan suggested that the need to focus for so long on concrete texts like Bible and Mishna was true in the past, when vowelized texts were non-existent, and even non-vowelized texts were rare. As a result, there was  greater difficulty in learning to read these texts, and greater need that they be committed to memory. However, already in the time of the Aruch HaShulchan, with the greater presence of modern vowelized texts, there was the flexibility to focus on talmud study earlier (Epstein, 1908 YD 245:13).
The father’s responsibility to teach his sons was seen primarily as a personal one. A father was expected to tutor his sons personally. If a person is, due to his own ignorance, unable to teach his sons,  he must appoint an agent to teach his children. That is, he must engage a tutor. The Talmud records that a father is required to pay money for a tutor of Scripture, but is not required to pay money for any other tutor. That is, if the father does not know mishna or talmud, and no voluntary teachers are available, the father is not required to pay for a tutor (Babylonian Talmud, 475 Kiddushin 29a; Karelitz, 1991 YD 152). This is presumably related to the fact that it was forbidden for a Jew to accept money for his teaching of the Oral Law. Anyone who knew it was obliged to teach anyone he was able (Maimonides, 1204 Talmud Torah 1:2,9; Babylonian Talmud, 475 Bechoros 29a; Karo, 1575a YD 245:3).
The Talmud expects this tutor to go to quite some length to insure the understanding of his student.
רבי פרידא הוה ליה ההוא תלמידא דהוה תני ליה ארבע מאה זימני וגמר יומא חד בעיוה למלתא דמצוה תנא ליה ולא גמר א"ל האידנא מאי שנא א"ל מדההיא שעתא דא"ל למר איכא מילתא דמצוה אסחאי לדעתאי וכל שעתא אמינא השתא קאי מר השתא קאי מר א"ל הב דעתיך ואתני ליך הדר תנא ליה ד' מאה זימני (אחריני) נפקא בת קלא וא"ל ניחא ליך דליספו לך ד' מאה שני או דתיזכו את ודרך לעלמא דאתי אמר דניזכו אנא ודריי לעלמא דאתי אמר להן הקב"ה תנו לו זו וזו 
(Babylonian Talmud, 475 Eruvin 54b) 
R. Pereda had a pupil whom he taught his lesson four hundred times before the latter could master it. On a certain day having been requested to attend to a religious matter he taught him as usual but the pupil could not master the subject. ‘What’, the Master asked: ‘is the matter today?’ — ‘From the moment’, the other replied. ‘the Master was told that there was a religious matter to be attended to I could not concentrate my thoughts, for at every moment I imagined, now the Master will get up or now the Master will get up’. ‘Give me your attention’, the Master said, ‘and I will teach you again’, and so he taught him another four hundred times. (Epstein, 1961 Eruvin 54b)
And while this level of patience may seem extreme, the principle is codified as Jewish law (Maimonides, 1204 Talmud Torah 4:6). A teacher may punish a student only if he fails to try (Maimonides, 1204 Talmud Torah 4:8).
Although the responsibility for limud is clearly a parental one, since the time of the Talmud, the preferred method of fulfilling this responsibility has been schooling.
דאמר רב יהודה אמר רב ברם זכור אותו האיש לטוב ויהושע בן גמלא שמו שאלמלא הוא נשתכח תורה מישראל שבתחלה מי שיש לו אב מלמדו תורה מי שאין לו אב לא היה למד תורה מאי דרוש (דברים יא) ולמדתם אותם ולמדתם אתם התקינו שיהו מושיבין מלמדי תינוקות בירושלים מאי דרוש (ישעיהו ב) כי מציון תצא תורה ועדיין מי שיש לו אב היה מעלו ומלמדו מי שאין לו אב לא היה עולה ולמד התקינו שיהו מושיבין בכל פלך ופלך ומכניסין אותן כבן ט"ז כבן י"ז ומי שהיה רבו כועס עליו מבעיט בו ויצא עד שבא יהושע בן גמלא ותיקן שיהו מושיבין מלמדי תינוקות בכל מדינה ומדינה ובכל עיר ועיר ומכניסין אותן כבן שש כבן שבע 
(Babylonian Talmud, 475 Baba Basra 21a)
Rab Judah has told us in the name of Rab: Verily the name of that man is to be blessed, to wit Joshua ben Gamala, for but for him the Torah would have been forgotten from Israel. For at first if a child had a father, his father taught him, and if he had no father he did not learn at all. By what (verse of the Scripture) did they guide themselves? By the verse, And ye shall teach them to your children. laying the emphasis on the word ëyeí. They then made an ordinance that teachers of children should be appointed in Jerusalem. By what verse did they guide themselves? By the verse, For from Zion shall the Torah go forth. Even so, however, if a child had a father, the father would take him up to Jerusalem and have him taught there, and if not, he would not go up to learn there. They therefore ordained that teachers should be appointed In each prefecture, and that boys should enter school at the age of sixteen or seventeen. (They did so) and if the teacher punished them they used to rebel and leave the school. At length Joshua b. Gamala came and ordained that teachers of young children should be appointed in each district and each town. and that children should enter school at the age of six or seven. (Epstein, 1961 Baba Basra 21a)
Although Biblical sources and tradition clearly preferred personal communication father to son as the best form of education, still Rav Yehoshua ben Gamla was praised because he abandoned this form of elementary education. It is important to examine why Rav Yehoshua ben Gamla consciously chose to alter this custom. The Gemara is explicit; Rav Yehoshua ben Gamla created schools in order to ensure that orphans, who had no father to teach them, would receive an education. He required boys who had fathers to abandon the better schooling available to them at home and join orphans in a classroom. He lowered the standards of education for the majority to secure a Torah education for all. He put students who could have learned one-on-one with their fathers into classrooms. His goal was universal education. The lesson is clear. A Torah education is a basic right. And it is the community’s responsibility to guarantee that right. As community members, other students can be required to sacrifice quality of education in order to ensure universal education. The Gemara describes that Rav Yehoshua ben Gamla was “תיקן” - he fixed something broken. The stronger students must suffer, to insure a minimum level of learning for everyone.
Rav Yitzchak Hutner, in an address to teachers in 1959 passionately describes this compromise.
Therefore, when writers of the history of Jewish education tell us to be proud that amongst Jews the law of compulsory schooling is as ancient in origin as the time of Yehoshua ben Gamala (about 70 c.e.), we must reject this as a mockery. That which the historians believe to be so great a source of pride, is, in actual fact, a source of humiliation. … It remains no more than a necessary adjustment to adverse circumstances. (Hutner, 1970 p. 7)
Rabbi Yechiel Epstein interprets this passage in the Talmud differently. He sees the replacement of fathers as primary educators as an improvement. It allowed for the wider study of Mishna and Talmud. Fathers were often capable of teaching only Scripture. With the introduction of mandatory schooling, the expected curriculum was broadened to include Mishna and Talmud. It is for this reason that mandatory schooling was imposed even on sons with fathers who could teach them. As he understands it, schools were first created for orphans, and were extended to include all children so that they too could benefit from the exposure to Mishna and Talmud (Epstein, 1908 YD 245:7).
After describing the invention of mandatory schooling, the Gemara then continues to relate information that is relevant to this newly created classroom. 
אמר ליה רב לרב שמואל בר שילת עד שית לא תקביל מכאן ואילך קביל ואספי ליה כתורא וא"ל רב לרב שמואל בר שילת כי מחית לינוקא לא תימחי אלא בערקתא דמסנא דקארי קארי דלא קארי ליהוי צוותא לחבריה … אמר רבא מתקנת יהושע בן גמלא ואילך לא ממטינן ינוקא ממתא למתא אבל מבי כנישתא לבי כנישתא ממטינן ואי מפסק נהרא לא ממטינן ואי איכא תיתורא ממטינן ואי איכא גמלא לא ממטינן ואמר רבא סך מקרי דרדקי עשרין וחמשה ינוקי ואי איכא חמשין מותבינן תרי ואי איכא ארבעין מוקמינן ריש דוכנא ומסייעין ליה ממתא ואמר רבא האי מקרי ינוקי דגריס ואיכא אחרינא דגריס טפי מיניה לא מסלקינן ליה דלמא אתי לאיתרשולי רב דימי מנהרדעא אמר כ"ש דגריס טפי קנאת סופרים תרבה חכמה ואמר רבא הני תרי מקרי דרדקי חד גריס ולא דייק וחד דייק ולא גריס מותבינן ההוא דגריס ולא דייק שבשתא ממילא נפקא רב דימי מנהרדעא אמר מותבינן דדייק ולא גריס שבשתא כיון דעל על
(Babylonian Talmud, 475 Baba Basra 21a)
Rab said to R. Samuel b. Shilath: Before the age of six do not accept pupils; from that age you can accept them. and stuff them with Torah like an ox. Rab also said to R. Samuel b. Shilath: When you punish a pupil, only hit him with a shoe latchet. The attentive one will read (of himself) and if one is inattentive put him next to a diligent one. 
…
Raba said: Under the ordinance of Joshua ben Gamala children are not to be sent (every day to school) from one town to another, but they can be compelled to go from one synagogue to another (in the same town). If, however, there is a river in between, we cannot compel them. But if, again there is a bridge, we can compel them not, however, if it is merely a plank.
Raba further said: The number of pupils to be assigned to each teacher is twenty-five. If there are fifty, we appoint two teachers. If there are forty, we appoint an assistant, at the expense of the town.
Raba also said: If we have a teacher who gets on with the children and there is another who can get on better, we do not replace the first by the second, for fear that the second when appointed will become indolent. R. Dimi from Nehardea, however, held that he would exert himself still more if appointed: the jealousy of scribes increaseth wisdom.
Raba further said: If there are two teachers of whom one gets on fast but with mistakes and the other slowly but without mistakes, we appoint the one who gets on fast and makes mistakes, since the mistakes correct themselves in time. R. Dimi from Nehardea on the other hand said that we appoint the one who goes slowly but makes no mistakes, for once a mistake is implanted it cannot be eradicated. (Epstein, 1961 Baba Basra 21a)
First, students are not to be accepted before six years old, and acceptance should be dependent on the individual student’s health and development. Some students are ready for school before others. Also, although discipline is expected, teachers are warned against physically hurting their charges. Student travel is limited, every town must have its own school. Rules for class size are instituted, generally limiting a class to no more than twenty-five students. Students should be in classrooms of mixed ability, and students with poor achievement should be encouraged to emulate better students, but should not be excluded from the classroom. The exposure to motivated peers is seen as an important motivating experience. And finally, a disagreement is recorded about which type of teacher is preferred, one with a breadth of knowledge that is somewhat imprecise, or someone with less knowledge but greater precision. All of these rules are codified in Jewish law (Maimonides, 1204 Talmud Torah 2; Karo, 1575a YD 245).
The same section of the Codes brings together other rules for schools as well. A school day should be all day and part of the night. This is to teach a child the need for constant study. Similarly, the school calendar should include every day except Sabbath and Holiday eves. The child’s learning is given such precedence, that even a great community need, and an educative one, like the rebuilding of the Temple in Jerusalem, should not interrupt the school day.
In the Jewish view, educators are acting “in loco parentis”. Schools are an aid to parents, and a parental surrogate for orphans. Schools are not agents of the state to ensure a minimally educated and literate citizenry. Just as every boy had the expectation that his father would provide him with a personally appropriate education, the schools, acting as parental agents, must strive to do no less. This is particularly clear according to the Aruch HaShulchan (Epstein, 1908 YD 245:7) that sees schooling as an improvement over parental education. But even according to Rabbi Hutner (Hutner, 1970), the need to strive for this goal should be clear. Certainly, the law requires an inordinate amount of patience from a teacher, patience that can best be understood in the framework of parental surrogate.
Chinuch
The responsibility for chinuch is based on a rabbinic legislation (Babylonian Talmud, 475 Suka 28b), though the verse from Mishlei is often used to describe it “חנוך לנער על פי דרכו גם כי יזקן לא יסור ממנה” “Educate a lad according to his path, even in his old age he will not deviate from it” (Bible Proverbs 22:6 translation mine). Although it is primarily a paternal responsibility (Karo, 1575a OH 343:1), for most of Jewish history, this duty was, in practice, shared by the entire community (Tannenbaum, 1993). There was the simple expectation that the child would perform his or her religious and moral duties within the context of community. This socialization to the responsibilities of adulthood is chinuch. Jewish law embraces this shared communal responsibility for chinuch. So, for example, the law allows an adult to make a blessing for a child, who because of his minor status is not obligated in blessings (Karo, 1575b OH 167:19; HaLevi, 1667 OH 167:16). Generally, the making of unnecessary blessings is proscribed by Jewish law; Blessings include G-d’s name, reciting an unnecessary blessing would violate the prohibition to take G-d’s name in vain (Karo, 1575b OH 206:6). It is allowed in this case because making the blessing with the child is part of the chinuch responsibility that is shared by the community (Karo, 1575b OH 167:19; HaLevi, 1667 OH 167:16). 
As the verse implies, specific elements of this requirement depend entirely on the maturity and ability of the child. This is made explicit in the Talmud in various contexts (Babylonian Talmud, 475 Suka 28a; Babylonian Talmud, 475 Suka 42a).
ת"ר קטן היודע לנענע חייב בלולב להתעטף חייב בציצית לשמור תפילין אביו לוקח לו תפילין יודע לדבר אביו לומדו תורה וק"ש תורה מאי היא א"ר המנונא (דברים לג) תורה צוה לנו משה מורשה קהלת יעקב ק"ש מאי היא פסוק ראשון היודע לשמור גופו אוכלין על גופו טהרות לשמור את ידיו אוכלין על ידיו טהרות היודע לישאל ברשות היחיד ספיקו טמא ברשות הרבים ספיקו טהור היודע לפרוס כפיו חולקין לו תרומה בבית הגרנות
(Babylonian Talmud, 475 Suka 42a)
Our Rabbis taught, A minor who knows how to shake (the lulab) is subject to the obligation of the lulab; (if he knows how) to wrap himself (with the tallith) he is subject to the obligation of zizith; (if he knows how) to look after tefillin, his father must acquire tefillin for him; if he is able to speak, his father must teach him Torah and the reading of the Shema. What (in this context) could be meant by Torah? R. Hamnuna replied, (The Scriptural verse) Moses commanded us a Law, an inheritance of the congregation of Jacob. What (in this context) is meant by the Shema? The first verse. If (the minor) knows how to take care of his body we may eat food that has been prepared in ritual purity though his body (touched it); if he knows how to take care of hands, we may eat food that has been prepared in ritual purity even though his hands (touched it). If he knows how to answer (questions on whether he touched any ritual uncleanliness), a doubtful case on his part that occurs in a private domain is regarded as unclean, but if in a public domain as clean. (If he knows how) to spread out his hands (in priestly benediction) terumah may be shared out to him in the threshing-floors. (Epstein, 1961 Suka 42a)
The rabbinic legislation of chinuch requires a parent to provide a child the opportunity to perform the positive mitvos. The expectation is that this training will be experiential and kinesthetic. And the need for these experiences may even allow the violation of other rabbinic legislation. Children are encouraged to learn to blow a shofar, even though the performance of the mitzvah only requires hearing someone else blowing it. And this training to blow the shofar may, according to many authorities, take place on Shabbos and Holidays when blowing the shofar would be a violation of rabbinic law (Yitzchaki, 1105 33a Tinokos, Ran; Babylonian Talmud, 475 Rosh Hashana 32b-33a).
Additionally, the mitzvah of chinuch explicitly places responsibility on the parents to act in ways that the child can appropriately imitate. For example, the Talmud forbids  lying to a child, as that will teach the child to lie (Babylonian Talmud, 475 Suka 46b; Babylonian Talmud, 475 Yivamos 63a).
Unlike the laws of limud discussed earlier, the laws of chinuch are not to be found in a single location in Jewish law. Rather, they are integrated throughout Jewish law. For each requirement, the law discusses at what point a child is obligated to perform that specific mitzvah (see for example Karo, 1575a Tzizit OH 17:3, Tfilin  OH 37:3, Shabbos OH 343, Lulav  OH 657).
Umanus
ת"ר האב חייב בבנו למולו ולפדותו וללמדו תורה ולהשיאו אשה וללמדו אומנות וי"א אף להשיטו במים רבי יהודה אומר כל שאינו מלמד את בנו אומנות מלמדו ליסטות ליסטות ס"ד אלא כאילו מלמדו ליסטות … כשם שחייב להשיאו אשה כך חייב ללמדו אומנות … כשם שחייב ללמדו תורה כך חייב ללמדו אומנות
(Babylonian Talmud, 475 Kiddushin 29a-30b)
Our Rabbis taught: The father is bound in respect of his son, to circumcise, redeem, teach him Torah, take a wife for him, and teach him a craft. Some say, to teach him to swim too, R. Judah said: He who does not teach his son a craft, teaches him brigandage, Brigandage! can you really think so! But it is as though he taught him brigandage. … Just as he [the father] is bound to take a wife for him, so is he bound to teach him a craft [for a livelihood];  … Just as he is bound to teach him Torah, so is he bound to teach him a craft (Epstein, 1961 Kiddushin 29a-30b).
דרש בר קפרא לעולם ילמד אדם את בנו אומנות נקיה וקלה
(Babylonian Talmud, 475 Kiddushin 82a and Brachos 63a)
Bar Kappara (further) expounded: A man should always teach his son a clean and not laborious trade. (Epstein, 1961 Kiddushin 82a and Brachos 63a)
Beyond these two sources that describe the existence of a father’s responsibility to teach a son a trade, and the preference that the trade be “clean and not laborious”, there is little discussion of this obligation in the Talmud. Further, although the earliest codifiers include this responsibility in their works (Alfasi, 1103 Kiddushin 29a; Asher ben Yechiel, 1303 Kiddushin 1:43), it is not codified separately in either the Rambam or the Shulchan Aruch. It is, however, acknowledged as an obligation within the context of the laws of manslaughter (Maimonides, 1204 Murder 5:5; Karo, 1575a OH 306) and the laws of Shabbos (Karo, 1575a OH 306). One detail is clearly recorded. There is a well documented prohibition against sending a child to a nonbeliever to learn a trade. (Karo, 1575a EH 22:4, YD 153:1 Rama; Babylonian Talmud, 475 Avoda Zara 15b; Maimonides, 1204 Prohibited Relationships 22:5). Rashi (Yitzchaki, 1105 Avoda Zara 15b Veyn Mosrin) gives two reasons for this rabbinic prohibition. First, because it risks exposing the student to the possibility of heretical beliefs, and second because there is a risk of sexual impropriety. Maimonides mentions only the second reason, but the Rama in Yoreh Deah mentions only the first. In practice, either reason is sufficient risk to forbid the contact (Kagan, 1933 306:5).
More broadly, the place of secular knowledge in Jewish life generally, and in Jewish education in particular has been the topic of much debate and discussion. In the following chapter, I will examine the question as it relates specifically to the curriculum of the American yeshiva ketana.
Interaction of Chinuch and Limud
As I mentioned earlier, limud is only considered a holy endeavor if it is done as a religious act. Torah study that is entirely academic is not limud. This suggests a certain priority for chinuch over limud. Limud can only be done once the religious motivation and direction has been set; setting this religious motivation is chinuch.  This is expressed by the Rabbis  as “דרך ארץ קדמה לתורה” “character precedes Torah” (Medrash Raba, 189 Vayikra 9:3). This priority is further expressed in the halacha by a prohibition against teaching students that are not “הגון” “decent” (Maimonides, 1204 Talmud Torah 4:1).
This however is not the entire story. Clearly, the primary concern of Jewish education is affective growth, “לא נתנה המצוות אלה לצרף בהם את הבריות” “The commandments were given only to purify creation” (Medrash Raba, 189 Genesis 44:1 translation mine), and certainly some of that growth must occur before limud can begin. Nonetheless, this statement also makes it clear that limud plays a unique and crucial role in the affective growth of a Jewish boy. Cognitive limud goals are a necessary if insufficient condition for affective growth. As Hillel says, “ולא עם הארץ חסיד” “and an ignorant person can not be scrupulously pious” (Babylonian Talmud, 475 Avos 2:6 translation mine). Indeed, under certain circumstances, even limud that is not motivated properly can be a necessary part of proper growth, “מתוך שלא לשמה בה לשמה” “doing things for improper motivation, leads to proper motivation” (Medrash Raba, 189 Eicha Psichasa 2 which specifically relates this idea to limud; Babylonian Talmud, 475 Psachim 50b translation mine). All this suggests a very specific view of the presumably academic limud. It suggests that the priority even in limud is moral affective growth rather than academic and cognitive growth. A successful student is not the one with the most intelligence, or the one who has memorized the most content; rather, the successful student integrates the moral content of limud into his entire life. This is done both by continued study, and by an explicit commitment to the moral and religious value of the study. Certainly we desire the intellectual and cognitive success of our students, but it is vital that we recall that this success is meaningful only if it leads to affective growth, only if it produces angels. A focus on academic growth that ignores the moral component of that growth, or even affords it second class importance, is foreign to the Jewish concept of limud and chinuch.
Further, many see the obligation of limud for a minor as explicitly governed by the rules of chinuch. The Arbaah Turei Even (1785 Talmud Torah 1:1) derives this from the Talmudic statement quoted earlier that places the obligation to teach Torah to a child within the context of other chinuch obligations (Babylonian Talmud, 475 Suka 42a). The Chazon Ish contends that the current practice of paying tuition for the teaching of Mishna and Talmud is required based on the obligation of chinuch. So, while there is a theoretical obligation from the Torah for limud of minors, its practical application is severely limited. Most current limud falls under the rubric of chinuch (Karelitz, 1991 YD 152).The halacha records that the school day includes part of the evening. This is done not because of the limud obligation to study day and night, but because of the chinuch obligation to teach minors that study should be day and night. That is, the rules for limud may require certain things  of an adult. These requirements do not apply to a child. Rather, limud, like every mitzva, is seen as a component of the overarching chinuch obligation. Elementary education then has the flexibility of chinuch. There are no specific blanket requirements that everyone must do. Rather, as a child develops, he should be enabled to do and learn more. Education is personal, it must be tailored to the abilities and environment of the student. Effort, not ability, is the measure of a student’s success. The single goal of elementary education is to create children that are religious and moral.
Education must be moral, and it must take place in a moral environment. The moral behavior of both the teacher and the parent is an explicit part of the educational process. In fact, concern for the moral behavior of the educator is the only thing that is expressed by the Talmud in connection with all three elements of education. 
CHAPTER IV
	CONFRONTING SECULAR KNOWLEDGE

Overview
Traditional religious scholars within the Orthodox community have long debated the place of secular knowledge and education within the context of Torah education and scholarship (Steinberg and Rosner, 1996). To resolve this question to everyone’s satisfaction is almost certainly impossible, as there are well established schools of thought (Dessler, 1963; Schwab, 1966). Even to address this question in any comprehensive manner is beyond the scope and purpose of this essay. Rather, I will examine this question with specific focus on our area of concern: the 21st century America yeshiva ketana. Further, I will limit myself to a discussion of the primary philosophies among Strictly Orthodox scholars of the 20th century. 
Within the Strictly Orthodox community there are two main streams of thought, Torah im Derech Eretz and Torah Only (Schwab, 1966). Torah im Derech Eretz (literally, Torah with the ways of the land) recommends a spiritual path of integration, where modern discoveries are used to deepen our appreciation of Revealed Truth. They see the full integration of all types of knowledge, Revealed and discovered, as the ultimate path towards closeness to G‑d and spirituality. The Torah Only approach sees the Torah, written and oral, as the only legitimate way to draw close to G‑d.  The Eastern European Strictly Orthodox leadership, of the 19th and 20th century, generally advocated a Torah Only philosophy. The Strictly Orthodox support for the Torah im Derech Eretz approach came primarily from the scholars of Western Europe. The Torah Only school saw the Torah im Derech Eretz approach as a serious compromise to the all-encompassing value of Torah and Revelation. They viewed the approach as appropriate, but only within the context of a needed compromise for the German community of the 1800s. The Derech Eretz school generally saw the Torah Only approach as one that is appropriate for the training of religious scholars and leaders, but not one that is appropriate or workable for the general population (Dessler, 1963; Schwab, 1966).
Torah Only
The Torah Only approach rejects the notion that secular knowledge is inherently valuable. The idea of “liberal education” that would elevate the human being is antithetical to the understanding that all morality comes ultimately from the Revelation of morality at Sinai (Hofmann, 1963 p. 41).
Yet, while they acknowledge no inherent value to secular knowledge per se, Torah Only authorities do acknowledge pragmatic value to secular knowledge. Further, they agree that, in theory, pragmatic value is sufficient to justify ongoing study (Wasserman, 1963;  but see Lebowitz, 1972; Bloch, 1982; Rozen, 1982). In practice, however, the pragmatic value must be weighed against the costs and dangers involved in lost time from Torah study and exposure to outside, possibly heretical, views (Wasserman, 1963; Bloch, 1982; Rozen, 1982; Levi, 1990).
To insure the safety of the children, any possibility of heretical influence must be removed from the study. This means that secular education can not take place in an open environment where control of content is given to secular authorities. The only possibility of permissible secular study is in a closed Jewish environment (Wasserman, 1963; Bloch, 1982; Feinstein, 1982 YD III 83). Materials must be free from heretical content, and to insure this, should be written by G‑d fearing Jews (Feinstein, 1982 YD III 73 and YD II 105). The protection that halacha mandates goes beyond simply the information per se; the sources of the information, both printed materials and teachers, must not carry with them a danger of exposing the children to immoral and heretical beliefs (Feinstein, 1982 YD II 105). Thus in the previous chapter we saw a specific prohibition that applies to the selection of a teacher for umanus. Further, the obligation to protect children includes the responsibility to shield them from the heretical beliefs of other children (Wasserman, 1963).
Even after ensuring the pragmatic nature of the education, and the philosophical purity of the environment (teachers and students) and study (content and materials), it is still not obvious that communal schooling should be encouraged, or even sanctioned. While both limud and chinuch have long been community enterprises, the requirement to teach a child a trade, the requirement of umanus, was never seen as a community responsibility. Fathers had a responsibility to teach their sons a trade, but it was not done with community funds or energy. Both Rav Bloch (1982) and Rav Rozin (Rozen, 1982) state that public funds should not be spent on Jewish secular education.
In the Torah Only approach, secular studies in the school was, and remains, a compromise. In an era of public secular education, it is seen as better to create Jewish schools to teach secular materials rather than abdicate control of the youth to secular authorities. Rather than expose students to the heretical and immoral beliefs of curriculum, teachers, and students in secular public schools, it was better to create a private environment where materials and teachers could be religiously filtered (Berlin, 1893 I:42; Feinstein, 1982 YD III 83).
Once these Jewish schools were created, Torah Only authorities struggled to make the compromise one that recognized the primacy of Torah study. Historically, that primacy had been clear. Jewish studies in the cheder, secular studies at home or as an apprentice. But with the introduction of secular studies into the Jewish school the clarity was lost.  It was felt that students might mistake the shared location as an indication of equal value. Various techniques were considered. Most universal, morning hours, when students were perceived as most productive, were set aside for Jewish studies (Feinstein, 1982 YD III 83).
From the traditional Eastern European perspective then, secular studies are severely limited for the Jewish elementary school. Their very existence is a compromise. Studies are limited to subjects that are both required by secular law and without any heretical content.
As we have seen in chapter two, these limitations were rarely fully implemented in day schools in the United States. Subjects and curriculum paralleled public schools, and often employed public school teachers using standard public school texts. And our schools remain non-compliant with these basic mandates of Jewish law. Even in the most religious schools, where efforts are being made to improve this situation, the compliance is still incomplete (Kletenik, 2004). 
Torah im Derech Eretz
There are two main ways of understanding the integrative philosophy of Torah im Derech Eretz. Proponents of this approach generally advocate it as a philosophy for all times and places, an ideal. Secular knowledge can be divided into sources of information and sources of morality. Secular morality should be of no interest to the Jew who has G‑d’s Word, but that need not detract from our interest in new understandings of G‑d’s world from the secular scientific community. Other authorities, primarily the Eastern European authorities that we discussed earlier, accepted Torah im Derech Eretz as a compromise for Enlightenment Germany. They understood that a strict “Torah Only” approach would not work with German Jews who were assimilated into an educated and enlightened modern Germany. For this culture, Torah im Derech Eretz was needed. It allowed  Torah to hold on against the strong foreign influences of German culture.
It should not be assumed that this approach is less concerned with heretical influences. Rather, the Torah im Derech Eretz approach recognizes that there are heretical dangers in many arenas. It is the job of the elementary school to prepare the student to confront those dangers successfully as an adult. Therefore, the day school must be protected space where a child can be properly prepared (Schwab, 1966).
An Approach for Today
What is particularly interesting to me is that these different approaches have converged in the United States of 2004. Torah im Derech Eretz was accepted even by the Torah Only school as the correct approach in Germany of the 1800s as a compromise to deal effectively with the open, and highly educated, culture of Enlightenment Germany. Neighborhood integration and universal compulsory make the United States today more like the Germany of 1870 than like the constrained ghettos of Eastern Europe. Twenty-first century America presents high levels of both education among the gentile population and Jewish exposure to that secular culture. Both speak volumes as to the appropriateness of the Torah im Derech Eretz compromise for current Jewish education (Schwab, 1966; Schwab, 1997). Within Strictly Orthodox circles this possibility is met with resistance. Rabbi Eisemann, a well-respected educator and writer, dismisses the possibility that we can all accept the Torah im Derech Eretz approach. And he does this in the pages of the Jewish Observer, an official publication of the Agudath Israel.  “We cannot do what Rabbi Hirsch did without being Hirschians. We cannot be what we are not. We cannot think another’s thoughts nor dream his dreams. We cannot do what he did without thinking as he did” (Eisemann, 2004 p. 14). But other leaders have seen this similarity. Rav Schwab wrote about it as early as 1966. Torah im Derech Eretz may or may not be the ideal, but it is certainly the best approach for America today (Schwab, 1966; Schwab, 1997).
Further, even if this argument is not fully accepted, it may still be that Torah im Derech Eretz is the correct approach for elementary schools. While Torah im Derech Eretz may not be accepted as normative by the Strictly Orthodox, it may still be the only reasonable behavior for the yeshiva ketana. The Torah Only philosophy severely limits the study of secular material, but it does not articulate an approach towards the secular material that is studied. The Torah Only leadership specifically permitted secular studies in the elementary day school. How then should that material be approached? It seems clear that once secular material is to be introduced, it must be taught using an approach like that of Torah im Derech Eretz.
Conclusion
Regardless of philosophical approach, some limitations to secular study are clear. Secular study must be safe. The Strictly Orthodox believe strongly in censorship and the protection of children from foreign values and ideas. This presents the community with a strong challenge because, as a community who little value secular study, the teachers who are capable and motivated to teach secular material are rare. As long as the secular world is responsible for the secular education of Strictly Orthodox children, that education will come packaged with the silent curriculum of secular beliefs and philosophies. An attempt at a values-free curriculum is a myth that never really exists (Woodall, 1995).
With this challenge comes a wonderful opportunity. If the Strictly Orthodox do take control of the secular department, it can become an opportunity for Jewish life and growth. Certainly, secular study must remain distinct from Torah scholarship, but it need not, indeed it should not, remain distinct from Jewish life. Secular studies are not, and should not be limud, but they can become a wonderful opportunity for chinuch.
CHAPTER V
	UNDERSTANDING THE CURRENT NEEDS

The Need for Change
From a Strictly Orthodox perspective, the goals and philosophy of education are immutable. They are part of the Oral Torah revealed at Sinai. The goals and philosophy are G‑d’s word and remain eternal and unchanging. Nevertheless, educational methodology does change. Already we have seen how Jewish educational philosophy required an education that was responsive to individual differences. “חנוך לנער על פי דרכו גם כי יזקן לא יסור ממנה” “Educate a lad according to his path, even in his old age he will not deviate from it” (Bible Proverbs 22:6 translation mine). By extension, this requires an education that is responsive to the needs of a group of individuals - a generation.
Rabbi Yaacov Kamenetzky (1970) addresses this point in great detail. Although most mitzvos have a specific form that is not to be changed. Education however is different.
In one instance, though, we find a distinct change of procedure and practice in the course of the generations - in the Mitzva of educating our youth. It is a strange thing that this Mitzva, upon which the Torah places so much stress, has continuously changed in form and content from age to age. …
And we ask: Where did our Sages take the authority to institute such great reforms in Jewish education, constantly changing it according to the circumstances of the time? Or to put the question differently: Why did not the Torah lay down more definite rules concerning Chinuch and insist on their scrupulous observance, just as it did with all other Mitzvoth? …
There is a cardinal difference between other Mitzvoth and the Mitzva of Torah-study. While it is true that the purpose of all Mitzvoth is to uplift a person, nevertheless the purpose is reached by careful observance of the Mitzva itself in all detail. In short, first comes the Din [law], with the ‘purpose’ following later, by itself. Not so with learning. Here it is primarily the results that count, - the actual Limud - learning being only a method by which to attain desirable action. Hence, every change in circumstances resulted in a shift of emphasis and in new methods of Torah education. (pp. 13-15)
Jewish education was well defined and understood for many years. The cheder system was more or less the same system for hundreds of years. For hundreds of years, the Jewish communities living in Eastern Europe lived with little change at all. “For millions of Jews, the world of 1890 was not that different from the world of 1590” (Diamond, 1997 p 24).  This is no longer the case. During the twentieth century dramatic changes occurred in Jewish society and in the surrounding secular culture. To understand the current era’s needs and how the cheder or day school should respond, one must examine those social changes. First, I will examine the changes that occurred in American society generally. At the very least, American society is the backdrop for the Strictly Orthodox community. Having described the general background, I will attempt to describe the specific, the changes that have occurred within the Strictly Orthodox community. I will examine those changes in two broad periods. First, I will examine the period between 1890-1930. This period includes many of the changes associated with the Industrial Revolution, and includes the era of immigration for Eastern European Jews to the United States. It was this era that gave birth to the day school. The second period, 1930-2000, includes the development of a dynamic and self-reliant Strictly Orthodox Jewish community in the United States.
Changes in Twentieth Century America
American society changed in many ways over the past century. Much of that change came with the shift to urban areas that was part of the Industrial Revolution, and with the subsequent shift to suburban areas. In 1900 60% of Americans lived in rural areas. In 1990 that had decreased to 25%. At the same time, urban population grew from 40% to 75% of the total U.S. population. In 1910, 12% of the total population lived in suburbs (part of the urban population), in 2000 it was 52% (Caplow et al., 2001).
This change to urban life has serious consequences for chinuch. The city itself became a school, a “third university” that presented a “multiplicity of models available to the apt learner, from the cunning thief to the skillful politician.” This “unprecedented exchange of traditions ... rendered insularity more difficult to maintain” (Cremin, 1988 pp. 47-48). This is particularly disturbing in light of the changing face of religion and morality in the United States. Although as recently as the 1960s interethnic marriages were the exception, that is no longer the case. As of 1980, white European ethnic groups married outside their ethnicity more often than not. “Apart from Jews, no ethnic group or institution carries out any sort of educational work designed to limit ethnic out-marriage. They accept it as a foregone conclusion ” (Sarna, 1994). As a result, “religious and ethnic loyalties are more commonly matters of choice, identity, to a considerable degree, is based on consent” (Sarna, 1994). Premarital sex is now common and acceptable. In 1900 only 6% of unmarried white 19 year old women had sexual experience. In 1991 that number had jumped to 74% (Caplow et al., 2001)! In 2000, 31% of adolescent females had intercourse by age 15 and 45% had intercourse by age 16 (Eustace, 2003). In 1960, only 0.2% of all couples  living together were unmarried. In 1998 it was over 7%. In 1972, only 27% of adults felt that premarital sex was acceptable. In 1996 ,that had jumped to 44% (Caplow et al., 2001).
Marriage has changed significantly during the 20th century. It is a less central part of life. It is more common to remain single, marriages are often started later, and they more frequently end in divorce (Coontz, 2000). In 1900, there were 4 divorces per thousand married women per year. In 1996, there were 20. This has contributed to an overall change in household structures. In 1910, 80% of all households were headed by a married couple, in 1998 only 53% were (Caplow et al., 2001). By the end of the 80s, 28% of all children lived with a single parent. This had a significant effect on society’s ability to raise children. Children raised in single-parent families are at greater risk for many social problems. They are more likely to live in poverty. They drop out of school more frequently, have children and marry younger, and are less satisfied with their marriages (Marty, 1997).
Even in two parent families, it is increasingly unlikely that there is a parent who acts as primary daytime caregiver for the children. Women are spending more time in the paid workforce. In 1900, only 6% of married women were in the workforce. In 1998 that had increased to 61%. Perhaps more startling is the fact that this increase is even greater for women with young children. As late as 1950, only 12% of women with children under 6 were in the workforce. In 1998, 64% of them were in the workforce (Smith, 1995; Caplow et al., 2001).
With the increase in single-parent and two-income families, there is a need for alternative child care. This need is exacerbated by other trends that make extended family a less frequent option. Households are generally smaller and less frequently include extended family (Hareven, 1991; Caplow et al., 2001). And the move to the suburbs often moved the nuclear family away from extended family networks. This made these families more dependent on market services for child care (Coontz, 2000). About 25% of children under 3 are in day-care centers (Marty, 1997). This need for child care contributed to the increase in early childhood enrollment in schools.  In 1965 only 11% of all 3 and 4 year olds were enrolled in school. In 1997, that had increased to 53% (Caplow et al., 2001). When children return home from school, it is often to an empty home (Marty, 1997).
Children … are now seen as competent: ready and able to deal with all of life’s vicissitudes. This new perception of children, however, did not appear because of some new and revolutionary finding about children. It emerged because the postmodern parents need competent children. We need children who can deal with out-of-home child care from an early age, who can cope with divorce … (Elkind, 1995 p. 13)
A new value has emerged. … This new value is autonomy, whereby each family member pursues his or her own interests and puts these interests before those of the family. In the modern family, where togetherness reigned, having meals together took precedence over individual pursuits. Today, soccer practice, music lessons, and business meetings take precedence over sharing mealtimes. If the nuclear home was a haven, the permeable home is more like a busy railway station with people coming in for rest and sustenance before moving out on another track. (Elkind, 1995 p. 13)
Despite this need for competence, children are still expected to remain dependent. Young people are physically mature at a younger age but are independent - economically and educationally - at a later one. A fifteen year old in the 1800s was likely an independent adult, treated as such by the community. A fifteen year old today is physically more mature, but is treated as a child (Coontz, 2000). Children are staying in school longer. In 1910 only 13% of all 25 year olds had graduated high school, and only 3% of them had graduated college. In 1998, 83% had graduated high school, and 24% had graduated college (Caplow et al., 2001). 
  The increase of education goes beyond high school and college. Advanced degrees have increased significantly, as well. In 1900, approximately 2 million advanced degrees were conferred in the United States. In 1999 that number had increased to over  531 million. This increase plays a significant role in the changing nature of employment in our society. In 1900, 42% of the male work force was involved in primary production (farming, fishing, etc.) In 1998, only 4% of the male work force was employed in that way. In 1900, 21% of the work force was involved in tertiary occupations (professional, management, service). In 1998, that had increased to 58% (Caplow et al., 2001). This parallels a professionalization of many fields, which has made education, and higher levels of education, more necessary for all types of employment (Cremin, 1988).
Technological advance was a significant factor in the changing nature of life in twentieth century America. In 1900, 2% of living spaces had electricity, 10% had flush toilets, 8% had central heating, none had refrigerators, washing machines or air conditioning. In 1997, 99% had electricity, 98% had toilets, 93% had central heating, 99% had refrigerators, 76% had washing machines, and 78% had air conditioning. In 1900 there was almost no car ownership, by 1997, 90% of American households had at least one car, and almost half had more than one. In 1900, each person made an average of 38 phone calls per year, mostly for business. By 1997, each person made 2,325 phone calls per year. In 1997 the average person made more phone calls in one week then the average person of 1900 made in an entire year. In 1945 there were no televisions. By 1997, 98% of all households owned at least one television, and most homes had at least two. The average person watched four hours of television per day in 1997. In 1984 only 8.2% of all households had a personal computer. By 1998 that had increased to 42.1% (Caplow et al., 2001).
Technological advance has its negative side. By the 1980s concern over television violence became mainstream. The American Psychological Association recommended that parents monitor their children’s viewing. They pointed to a correlation between televised violence and children’s aggressive behavior (Marty, 1997). While early television was most often watched together as a family, that began to break down with the advent of cable. In 1981, MTV launched, and aimed its programming specifically at teens. Within two years, MTV claimed 14 million homes were watching daily (Marty, 1997). And with growth in television came a growth in advertising spending. In 1900, $142 (adjusted for 1999) were spent to advertise to each American. By 1998 that had increased to $759. (Caplow et al., 2001)
Many of these changes, and perhaps others as well, contributed to a vast change in perspective.
By the 1980s the United States had reached what philosopher Albert Borgman calls a ‘postmodern divide.’ Beliefs and behaviors of modern times yielded to new beliefs and behaviors. …
In postmodern times, the need for unilateral control by people ‘in charge’ has diminished and relationships have become bilateral and multilateral. We see this in jobs as well as in relations between husbands and wives, parents and children, teachers and students. Appreciation for predictability has been joined by respect for randomness. In modern times, coherence was the ideal. In postmodern times, chaos came to be accepted as normal. … In modern times, responsibilities and commitments were meant to be honored. In postmodern times - well, maybe, maybe not; whimsy and indifference have their place. (Marty, 1997 p. 245)
To a parent, or community, raising children and hoping to instill in them a commitment to a 3000 year old responsibility, this change is nothing less than a disaster.
Coming To America - 1890 to 1930
Certainly, the most obvious, and perhaps all encompassing changes, that affected the lives of Jews between the 1890s and the 1930s was the set of changes normally associated with the Industrial Revolution: the wide access to new technologies, and the movement of population centers from rural towns and villages to urban cities. While this movement certainly was happening in Europe, for the Eastern European immigrant it often happened with his immigration to the United States.
To better appreciate just how different shtetl life was we will consider the words of individuals who lived there. First, consider the words of my paternal grandfather’s brother, Beryl Segal, as he describes the Ukrainian shtetl in which he grew up in the first decades of the twentieth century. 
Orinin was a small town of about five hundred.… It was far away from a railroad, had no telephones, no electric lights or gas, and no newspapers. … Plumbing and sanitary facilities were unheard of. In winter the houses were heated by burning wood and straw. A wood and straw fire was also used for cooking. … The foods one could buy in the stores were few, and fewer still were the housewives who could afford to buy them. …
The children had the  task of bringing water from the wells that dotted the Shtetl within walking distance. (Segal, 1974 pp. 542-543)
Raichel Horowitz was wealthier, and so her recollection of water carriers is a bit different.
My earliest memories are of Stryzov, a small town in Poland. … There was a water pump in the middle of the town square where people used to gather. Every day someone – often a public water carrier or the family’s gentile maid – had to come and pump water. Then they had to haul it back home and pour it into a big water barrel. (Horowitz, 1996 p. 17)
Ruchama Shain grew up in New York City in the early part of the 20th century. Upon marrying, she accompanied her husband to Mir, Poland for 5½ years, from 1933 to 1938. She experienced the benefits of the Industrial Revolution in her youth, and then “travelled back in time”. She sent these reports to her parents who remained in America.
The gas ovens, running water, plumbing facilities, steam heat, and other comforts so taken for granted in the States would be heaven to me here. (Shain, 1984 p. 231)
To heat the stove and cook in it is a complicated process which I still have not mastered. Wood is bought in the market place and stored in the barn outside our house. The wood is then chopped into small logs to be able to fit into the stove. … After the logs become small burning embers, they are shoved to one side to make room for the pots of food to be cooked. To get the pot of food in and out of the stove a vilke (a wooden handle about forty inches long, with a half-moon shaped piece of iron attached to it) is used. … Once the pot is held by the vilke, the next precarious step is to place it safely near the embers at the exact spot where the food will neither burn nor remain raw. … I am all thumbs when it comes to placing the pot of food at the right spot in my kachal stove. My pot either turns over when it is halfway into the stove or my food is burnt or undercooked. … Each time I ‘goof,’ [my landlady] comes running into my house with a look of disapproval in her eyes. (Shain, 1984 p. 227)
The primus is a weird contraption that is used for minor cooking. … It has a round copper-colored container with a little pump attached to it, where the kerosene is stored. … The entire primus exploded several times. (Shain, 1984 pp. 228-229)
I think I wrote you in a previous letter that each apartment has one fifteen-watt bulb in the dining room. In the other rooms, we are obliged to use kerosene lamps. The electricity is controlled by the town electrician, who switches on the lights before nightfall and extinguishes them at midnight. I had noticed that on most evenings our bulb flashes on and off. To my surprise, I was informed that the electrician uses this as a signal to alert his wife that he will be coming home shortly for his evening meal. (Shain, 1984 pp. 255-256)
With the advances in science and technology, came advances in medical science as well. Although these changes may not have had the day to day impact that other changes had, they were dramatic nonetheless.
Bobeh Yehudis gave birth to two boys; but they both died, since she did not have enough milk to nurse them properly. In those days, baby formula was not available; so when mothers didn’t have enough milk, and no Jewish wet-nurses were available, their babies often died of starvation. (Horowitz, 1996 p. 22)
They didn’t use antibiotics for pneumonia in those days. Instead, the doctors tried to help me with bahnkes (sucking cups). Small hot glass cups were put on my back. As these cooled, the vacuum drew the skin into small mounds. The doctors cut these to let out ‘excess’ blood, which was supposed to reduce the fever. The cups added a bit of warmth; but the process left my poor little back covered with bloody painful welts. (Horowitz, 1996 p. 51)
Ever since we received the pamphlets from the [U.S.] Department of Health, Moshe and I are faced with a problem. … Lately, we have a steady stream of mothers coming to our door asking for medical information. They ask us to look up in the ‘American book’ for a cure for every conceivable ailment from which their babies might suffer.
One night, … after midnight, a hysterical woman banged on our door. We were startled out of a deep sleep. She did not ask for any information from the ‘American book’ but for the ‘American doctor’. (Shain, 1984 pp. 300-301)
Further, the standards of wealth and poverty changed dramatically. Personal service was more affordable in Europe. But even small amounts of money were more precious.
 Although there were water carriers who supplied water for a few kopecs a week, most households used these carriers only in the slippery winter season. (Segal, 1974 pp. 542-543)
Ready-made clothes, such as coats, suits and dresses, are unavailable here, everything is sewn by tailors or dressmakers. (Shain, 1984 p. 233)
I feel like a millionaire having a maid living-in. She costs less than a dollar a month. (Shain, 1984 p. 248)
Sometimes, I crave a piece of chocolate, and they have delicious chocolate in the grocery store. However, I hesitate to buy it when other shoppers are present, as I do not want to be conspicuous as the ‘wealthy Amerikanka.’ (Shain, 1984 p. 254)
Beyond the broad changes associated with the Industrial Revolution, for the Jew coming from Eastern Europe to the United States there was another important aspect to this period. Overall, the experience of anti-semitism was far more intense in Eastern Europe. This translated into ghetto living, limited economic opportunities, and even personal danger.
The fact was that no one dared to step out of the boundaries set up by the Polish and Russian churches. When a new house was built in the Shtetl, it was built in the empty spaces within the town, and not in the wide open spaces of the village. (Segal, 1974 p. 545)
[A boy growing up in the Shtetl] could not aspire to be a policeman because that exalted office was out of reach of a Jewish boy by decree of the Czar. … The army and navy were distasteful to Jews. When a boy was drafted, the unhappiness at home was very great. He would not be able to observe the sabbaths and holidays, and would not have kosher food. The government would never think of providing these for Jews. (Segal, 1974 p. 549)
A Jew could not own a farm, or cultivate his own field, or gather the fruit of his own orchard. Ownership of land was forbidden to Jews. In a country where agriculture was the main occupation of the people, the Jew was excluded from participation in it except for buying and selling the fruits of other people’s labor. (Segal, 1974 p. 550)
I am most disturbed to come face to face with anti-Semitism. I was never confronted with this problem in New York, though I attended public school with the gentiles. Papa, I recall that after our Pesach seder, the policeman on our beat used to come up to turn off all our electricity. He was so friendly, as were all our goyishe neighbors. Bara, our shikse, tells me, when she returns from Sunday services, that the galach (priest) stirs up much animosity against the Jews. She ridicules him saying, ‘Ehr vaist nit vos ehr ret’ (he does not know what he is talking about). But it does promote hatred. (Shain, 1984 p. 258)
The … peasant woman warned our family about another pogrom. … The Goyim started their rampage … on Erev Pesach. The drunken mob surrounded our house, and announced that the first Jews they were going to kill were the ‘Rabbiner’ and his family. Our peasant woman darkened the whole house, so it looked like we were not at home. We all hid in the attic. … The maid, a broad husky woman, stood with her arms crossed and refused to let the mob cross the threshold. (Horowitz, 1996 pp. 40-41)
Given these changes, it is no surprise that the Eastern European immigrants often saw the United States as a magical place. Indoor plumbing, gas stoves, stores with ready-made food and clothing, access to medical information and trained doctors, real economic opportunity, and a real sense of freedom. In this environment, it is little wonder that Jews sought to take advantage of these opportunities and were most anxious to fit in. It was this very desire to fit in, combined with the external expectation to fit into the American melting pot that was seen by the Strictly Orthodox as the stumbling block to Jewish community in America. Compare Beryl Segal’s recollection of public schooling in the Ukraine with the recollections of students here in America.
Within my memory only two boys ever went up ‘to the hill’, as the government school was called in Orinin. Parents were not very anxious to subject their children to all kinds of humiliation on the part of teachers and pupils. The schools were under the supervision of the Russian (Pravoslavny) church, and religious instruction and prayers were a dominant part of the curriculum. (Segal, 1974 p. 550)
School was a particularly touchy problem. In the 1920s, there were no Bais Yaakov schools for girls. … Still, the law said that I must go to school or my parents could be arrested. So six-year-old Raichel bas Rochma Miril from Stryzov, Poland found herself in a Cleveland public school the first autumn after we arrived in America. (Horowitz, 1996 p. 55)
Although I attended public school in Cleveland, I lived a strictly religious life. I even stayed home on Erev Shabbos and Erev Yom Tov to help my mother prepare for all our guests. I had two kinds of friends. There were my weekday friends, who lived on the same street. We would play jump rope and hopscotch and One-Two-Three O’Leary. Then there were my Shabbosdik friends. I was about nine years old and they were older, eleven or twelve. We would get together on Shabbos and talk about the parshah of the week and learn dinim together.
Since there were no Jewish schools, after public school I was tutored at home in Jewish subjects. (Horowitz, 1996 p. 69)
I was fortunate to have a strong home environment that enabled me to withstand the alien street and public-school influences. It is mainly your teachings, Papa, that remain uppermost in my mind. Some of my girl friends were not so fortunate. It was your talking to them, and the special interest you took in them when they visited each Shabbos, that kept them from drifting away. (Shain, 1984 pp. 267-68)
And of course, recall this passage quoted more extensively in chapter two. 
Good manners dictated that you kept your religious convictions undercover. One simply did not go about flaunting his Jewishness. It was embarrassing for everyone. …
Though we celebrated Passover and Chanukkah at home, in school it was Easter and bunny eggs, Xmas trees and carols and bells. (Rosengarten, 1992 pp. 6-7)
Certainly among the Strictly and Ultra Orthodox of the time there was a perception, shared to some degree by others as well,  that Eastern Europe was more spiritual while the United States was more materialistic.
They decided to emigrate to America in the early 1920s, although my grandparents were very much against it. In those days, going to America was frowned upon, since there were few strictly religious communities or facilities, and it was very difficult to be an observant Jew there. Indeed, many of the new immigrants quickly became ‘American’ and left their European religious roots far behind. In Europe, leaving for America seemed almost like leaving Yiddishkeit. (Horowitz, 1996 p. 45)
Compared to Europe, American was, in those days, a Jewish wasteland. Most of the few Jewish facilities that existed were concentrated in New York City. Cleveland was a galus (exile) within a galus. … The new immigrants were often the most ‘enlightened,’ materialistic and least religious part of the American Jewish community. Freed from the peer pressures of their communities, and subjected to the economic and social pressures of America, the immigrants ‘optional’ religious observance dropped to incredible depths. Often even the most basic mitzvos - Shabbos, tefillin, kashrus - were simply abandoned, leaving only a taste of Jewishness behind. (Horowitz, 1996 p. 54-55)
Some people think of the America of that time as rich, and the Poland of that time as poor. In terms of Yiddishkeit [Judaism] and ruchnius [spirituality], life in Poland at that time was incredibly rich, and life in America was poor. (Horowitz, 1996 p. 95)
This is Mir - a tiny town in its physical aspect, but gigantic in Torah and ethics - where five hundred young men from all over the world are studying in the Mirrer Yeshiva. (Shain, 1984 p. 233)
Chava is presently studying in the Sara Schenirer Bais Yaakov in Krakow. Her father shares your views on chinuch for girls. Imagine, he sent Chava, a teenager, all the way from the States to study in Poland, as he wanted her to be under the influence and guidance of teachers with a true Torah outlook. Unfortunately, this education is not available for girls in the States. (Shain, 1984 p. 267-68)
The inhabitants threw off their workday yokes and became Sabbath princes. The men and their women and children all took on an extra Neshomoh, a Sabbath soul. The interior of the houses, the clothes of the people, the very streets of the Shtetl had another-worldly aspect.
The transformation took place on Friday afternoon. … The Shamos [caretaker] of the Old Shul would make the rounds of the Shtetl streets, stopping at every second or third house, and in a hoarse voice chanting: ‘In Shul Arein!’ … ‘To the synagogue!’ …
Immediately the stores would be shut down, transportation would stop, and all business dealings would come to a standstill. … Fathers and sons would walk slowly to the houses of worship along quiet streets past cheerfully lit houses, joined by neighbors as they approach the synagogues. (Segal, 1974 pp. 573-74)
Living in America 1930 - 2000
The story of Orthodox Judaism in the United States during the second half of the twentieth century is one of growth and strength. Starting with the seeds planted by immigrants from the beginning of the century, and fed by the leadership and determination of Holocaust survivors, the Jewish community here built a strong, dynamic, and independent Orthodox community. The positives are so strong that a sense of historical triumphalism is not entirely unwarranted (Wurzburger, 1982). 
Many who doubted that a halachically-observant, Torah lifestyle could survive the … pressures of American life and culture, would now look with awe upon the rebirth of tradition, Torah study and observant practice in … the Diaspora. Even though assimilation was as virulent as ever in the Jewish world, the twentieth century proved that the  tenacity of a hard core of Jews struggling to succeed in the preservation of Sinai among the Jewish People would always be present.
Though the problems that faced the … Jewish people everywhere, at the end of the twentieth century were enormous, the bald fact that the Jewish People had come through the twentieth century at all was comforting and reassuring. By the end of the century … American Jewry had acquired power and affluence, and a cadre of loyal Jews undreamt of at the beginning of the century existed worldwide. (Wein, 2001 p. 398)
In every particular that matters to the Orthodox community, these years were ones of constant growth. In chapter two we looked at the growth of the day school. Here we will look briefly at some of the other areas of Jewish life that grew together with the day school.
[In Boston in 1944] the local mikveh [ritual bath] was questionable, there was no cholov Yisrael milk or glatt kosher meat, the hospitals didn’t let frum mohelim perform brissim and didn’t offer kosher food, there was no shomer Shabbos [Shabbos observant] bakery, and so on. (Horowitz, 1996 p. 140)
Now [1996] in Boston you can get all kinds of kosher food. There are four shomer Shabbos bakeries, two kosher-only grocery stores, milchig [dairy], fleishig [meat] and parve [neutral] restaurants, and even a kosher pizza parlor. (Horowitz, 1996 p. 146)
Orthodox Jewish culture showed its strength by developing independent social service organizations, successful publishing houses which produced English language Torah content, and a commercially viable music industry (Wein, 2001). In recent times, Hatzolah, a volunteer ambulance company, became well-known for their contribution to the emergency response on 9/11 (Barry, 2001). Further, the Orthodox community demonstrated their integration into the American world by full participation in the political process. Orthodox Jews were elected to local, state, and federal office. In 2000, an Orthodox Jew was the Democratic Party’s vice-presidential candidate (Wein, 2001).
The kippah-wearing, sometimes bearded, completely traditional - yet fully American - Jew was becoming an accepted part of American life. Even though the caricatured Orthodox Jew - quaint, nostalgic, but hopelessly out of touch with the modern world - was still portrayed widely in Hollywood movies and in much of the print media, the caricature was no longer even close to being accurate.
  There was a new sense of confidence in Orthodox circles, as the dire predictions regarding the dearth of Orthodoxy of just a few decades before had been proven wrong. (Wein, 2001 p. 325)
This sense of confidence was often expressed in more rigorous standards, and more distinctive dress. Cholov yisroel and glatt kosher became more often desired, and more readily available. Beards and black-hats became a more common sight, in the rabbinate and the laity. And even chasidic garb stopped being strange. (Wein, 2001)
Since Pinchas was our bechor (firstborn), he set the pattern for all our sons’ education. When he was four [1948], he went to kindergarten at the local Jewish day school. His first day, however, got off to a rough start. Chassidim don’t even cut their sons’ hair until they are three. then they cut it all very short except for two long peyos (sidecurls) which are left untouched. One of the teachers at the school took one look at Pinchas’ long peyos and put him in with the girls! Now [1996], Baruch Hashem, Boston has a traditional cheder and peyos are no longer a strange sight. (Horowitz, 1996 p. 171)
To be fair though, there are problems in paradise. Some problems are caused from within. Others come from exposure to an increasingly immoral external environment.
Orthodoxy faced many difficult issues within its own camp - increasing numbers of children who were at risk of leaving Judaism and joining decadent levels of society, …the temptations of a new affluence in the Jewish world, the necessity for corrections and innovations in its school systems and the ready access of secular culture through advances in technology and communications were only some of the problems facing Orthodox Jews worldwide. (Wein, 2001p. 394)
Implications of Change
The world today is dramatically different from the world that gave birth to the day school. The urbanization of the population, the increased volume of communication  brought about by radio, television and the internet, and the commercial nature of that communication means that we are more and more exposed to secular values, options, and images. Adding to this, is the more porous nature of our communities. With the possible exception of parts of New York, we no longer live in a ghetto where every person we see is a Jew. We come into daily contact with real people who are different than ourselves. In short, we can no longer raise our children to ignore the secular world, we must teach them how to deal with it. This is made more complicated by the post-modern ethic described earlier that challenges any sense of hierarchy and authority.
Further, to function in our society, and certainly to be gainfully employed, it is becoming increasingly necessary to have greater amounts of secular education. At the start of the last century, a high school graduate was considered well educated for almost any job. Today, a college education is fast becoming crucial.
The Orthodox Jewish community of the 21st century has the tools needed to meet these challenges. The community is wealthier than anytime in recent Jewish history (Wein, 2001). The resources exist to implement almost anything the community might need. And the immorality in the surrounding community has a silver lining. To a great degree, what the Orthodox community perceives as immorality comes from a commitment to openness and diversity in American society. This openness to diversity, this willingness to allow others to express their otherness suggests that the Strictly Orthodox are unlikely to be challenged by mandatory education laws if there is a sincere effort to prepare the children to function as adults in American society. It is, today more than anytime in the past century, up to us to determine how we educate our children.
CHAPTER VI
	CURRENT SECULAR THEORIES

Justification
As I mentioned in the introduction, the consideration of secular theory for Jewish Education is fraught with difficulty. Education, by its nature, is philosophical. And much of modern educational philosophy is antithetical to Strictly Orthodox Torah values.
As one example, consider the very nature of a “democratic” education. This expression is used by many of the theorists I will examine. It suggests that education should prepare a student for living in a democracy. And while it may resonate well with our American sensibilities, it is counter to the Strictly Orthodox value of subjugation to the Almighty. Compare “אין לך בן חורין אלא מי שעוסק בתלמוד תורה” “The only free person is one who struggles in the study of Torah” (Babylonian Talmud, 475 Avos 6:2) with “I rule out …indoctrination … ‘with the purpose of insuring behavior in conformity’. … I endorse … ‘promoting … personal autonomy, self government, or spiritual freedom, even if this leads the individual to criticize prevailing ideals, principles, or rules.’”  (Goodlad, 1975 pp. 10-11 with quotes from Frankena, W.K. “Moral Education, A Philosophical View of.” The Encyclopedia of Education Vol 6 New York Macmillan 1972 pp. 395-396) 
Rav Dessler (1963) explained that Jewish elementary education is primarily about developing attitudes, not about transmitting information. It is not sufficient that children learn to read the aleph bais [Hebrew alphabet], they must learn to love the aleph bais. Any educational methodology which is meant to add efficiency to the learning process puts at risk the more vital inculcation of values. He admitted though that it might be possible to find a valuable integration of the traditional and modern methods that would be beneficial. Since that time, a number of secular educational theorists have addressed how to get maximum academic study without sacrificing the need to convey the values and feelings that are crucial.  Consider the words of Donald Arnstine (1995), “The value of school is often conceived in terms of results … exam papers and test scores … [We] are interested less in those products than we are in the kinds of people schools produce” (p. 115). Dr. Joseph Kaminetsky, the first director of Torah Umesorah, conveyed the Strictly Orthodox approach.  “While we may reject the major premises of Dewey’s and Kilpatrick’s philosophy, we have gained much by adapting their methodology to Jewish education” (1966a p. 114).
As was made clear in the previous chapter, life has changed dramatically in the past century. With those changes came a responsibility to adapt our educational methodology to deal with these new realities of American life. It is particularly for insight into appropriate adaptations that these secular educators are valuable. “The modification going on in the method and curriculum of education is as much a product of the changed social situation, and as much an effort to meet the needs of the new society that is forming, as are changes in modes of industry and commerce” (Dewey, 1959 p. 34).
It is in this spirit then, that I will attempt to derive methodological insights from some of the innovators in secular education of this century. And in that spirit, I will not endulge in broad examinations of progressive theory or philosophy. Rather, I will focus on those points that I believe are particularly useful to Strictly Orthodox Jewish Education and its methodology.
Social Experience
Dewey saw it as crucial that children learn through experience how to behave in society. Since democratic society was his goal, children needed the opportunity to model that democratic society. This opportunity to try on adult roles, much like chinuch requires the adult performance of mitzvos, was a key element in Dewey’s educational approach (Tanner, 1997 p. 32).  Just as chinuch is the moral and social education that had been happening in the home and community, Dewey felt that a large part of social education had traditionally been done at home. Dewey argued that schools should take over much of this social education, since changes brought on by the Industrial Revolution meant that these things were no longer being taught at home.
Back of the factory system lies the household and neighborhood system. Those of us who are here today need go back only one, two, or at most three generations, to find a time when the household was practically the center in which were carried on, or about which were clustered, all the typical forms of industrial occupation. The clothing worn was for the most part not only made in the house, but the members of the household were usually familiar with the shearing of the sheep, the carding and spinning of the wool, and the plying of the loom. … The entire industrial process stood revealed … Not only this, but practically every member of the household had his own share in the work. The children, as they gained in strength and capacity, were gradually initiated into the mysteries of the several processes. It was a matter of immediate and personal concern, even to the point of actual participation. …
Again, we can not overlook the importance for educational purposes of the close and intimate acquaintance got with nature at first hand, with real things and materials. …
The great thing to keep in mind, then, regarding the introduction into the school of various forms of active occupation, is that through them the entire spirit of the school is renewed. It has a chance to affiliate itself with life, to become the child’s habitat, where he learns through directed living; instead of being only a place to learn lessons having an abstract and remote reference to some possible living to be done in the future. (Dewey, 1959 pp. 36-41)
Experiential education of this sort works because “children want to ‘help’; they are anxious to engage in the pursuits of adults which effect external changes: setting tables, washing dishes, helping care for animals, etc.” (Dewey, 1985 p. 211). Indeed, imitating adults is not a chore, it is entertaining. So while Dewey acknowledged a distinction between play and industry, it was far less important to him than the distinction between actions that are intrinsically valued, and actions which are undertaken “under conditions of external pressure or coercion” (Dewey, 1985 p. 212) . These he called drudgery. “Play and industry are by no means so antithetical to one another as is often assumed, any sharp contrast being due to undesirable social conditions” (Dewey, 1985 p. 210). That is, children learn to make a distinction between school work and play. A young child sees his work as play and his play is indeed work. “One has only to observe the countenance of children really playing to note that their attitude is one of serious absorption” (Dewey, 1985 p. 212). If schools can create opportunities for real work, where there is sufficient stimulation, the “occupation can be carried on for its own sake” (Dewey, 1985 pp. 212-13) with that “serious absorption” that children bring to their play.
Donald Arnstine also distinguished between two elements of a child’s education. 
The socialization that affects all children focuses on everyday but important social agreements. It aims not to cultivate thought, but simply to adjust the young to their world, and it succeeds when the learner effectively acquires values and modes of action that are approved by society.
Education, more selectively dispensed, focuses on things considered important by more specialized groups (e.g. , ministers, biologists, literary scholars), even when members of those groups do not always agree with each other. Because it deals with materials that is more specialized, that is new, and that is often in dispute, education, unlike socialization, aims at understanding and critical judgment. It succeeds when learners can find their own reasons for what they believe and for what they think is worth doing. (Arnstine, 1995 pp. 9-10)
It is convenient, if again not precisely accurate, to identify socialization with chinuch and education with limud. This will allow us to access certain useful observations. Arnstine accepted the proposition that socialization became a large part of the school’s function as a direct result of the social upheavals already discussed. And he agreeed that socialization requires first hand experience. Socialization is not achieved through lecture, but through practice. He added that socialization occurs all the time, through whatever experiences are occuring. As a result, he observed that the socialization that is taking place in school is counterproductive. It is socialization to school rather than to adult life. It is not preparation for life as an adult or as a citizen, it is preparation to life in school. Schools use grades to foster competition, and encourage individual achievement. The real world is more frequently a place where communication and interaction must be used to achieve some group goal. If schools are to be the agent of socialization, they must change their structure, and allow for real world experiences, both in and out of the classroom. (Arnstine, 1995)
Academic Exploration
To my mind though, Arnstine’s most crucial points are about the nature of academic learning. Arnstine believed that academic study, to be successful, must be a subjectively high quality experience; it must be intrinsically motivated.  Those of us who have been successful in some branch of scholarship will, no doubt, recognize the inner joy that comes from “getting it”. Arnstine spent a tremendous amount of effort trying to describe exactly what leads to this experience, and how, in practical terms, to maximize the opportunities for such experiences in school. If schools are to be successful in education, they must be organized in such a way as to offer students the opportunity to experience that inner joy.
The process begins when a student notices a discrepancy.“The detection of a discrepancy doesn’t require us to think about it or do anything about it. But the discrepancy is what we think about, if we do any thinking at all” (Arnstine, 1995 p. 72). Once the discrepancy is noticed,  a person must choose to attend to the discrepancy. That moment of careful attention to the discrepancy is what Arnstine called an aesthetic experience. This careful attention to the discrepancy may be all that is needed for resolution. However, there are times when careful attention is not enough, the discrepancy can only be resolved by gathering more information. The motivation to seek this further information is curiosity, and it too can lead to meaningful learning. Finally, information alone may be insufficient to resolve the discrepancy. There may be a need to experiment, to hypothesize, to consider possible resolutions and investigate. This Arnstine called problem-solving, and it is the greatest form of education.
Having described these stages: discrepancy, aesthetic, curiosity, and problem-solving, Arnstine described the environment that is needed to encourage their development. For a student to notice a discrepancy, his state of mind must be open, ready to pay attention. It is for this reason that “support and encouragement (sometimes) works, and force doesn’t” (Arnstine, 1995 p. 70). The student must have some familiarity with the target, that is, he must have some expectations. And the target must be presented in a way that is interesting. As he explained, “wallpaper is ordinarily bland and repetitious because it’s intended to serve as a background.” Something that is “bland and repetitious” does not attract our attention, and so we are unlikely to notice any discrepancy.
Once the student is paying attention, we can attempt to trigger his curiosity. “What initially attracts attention because of its aesthetic appeal may hold attention longer if it arouses curiosity. The flight of the bird is strikingly beautiful, but students will also be surprised that a creature hundreds of feet in the air can spot a fish below the surface of the sea and then snag it in one powerful, precise plunge. Such accuracy is discrepant with anybody's expectations, and curiosity about the physiology that makes this possible is easily aroused in many students, and is certainly worth pursuing” (Arnstine, 1995 p. 110). We use the aesthetic experience to attract the student’s attention, and then once the student is paying attention, we have the opportunity to arouse the student’s curiosity.
Arnstine observed that “the more a person’s behavior is dominated by a strong goal or drive, the less likely is that person to be curious” (Arnstine, 1995 p. 100). At first, this may seem counter-intuitive, but with careful thought it becomes clear. If we are focused on a goal, we have little time to attend to the minor discrepancies that surround us. And the more we are focused on a goal, the more extraneous things appear to be minor. Ulterior motives, like grades, then, destroy the possibility of real curiosity. Questions asked in this context are more likely to be ones that are motivated by grades. And questions that are not motivated by curiosity lead to answers that are quickly forgotten. “Curiosity then, is a matter of wanting to find things out apart from the demands of practical affairs or social intercourse” (Arnstine, 1995 p. 101).
Curiosity is a natural behavior, and assuming the environment is one conducive to it, curiosity will often follow. Curiosity is aroused when the person is “at leisure, relieved of goal-driven pressures” and when there is a discrepancy of the right size. Discrepancies that are too large lead to astonishment and discomfort; ones that are too small  lead to boredom. When the environment and discrepancy are right, it is possible,  even likely, that the student will engage with curiosity. And to satisfy his curiosity, the student will seek information that can resolve the discrepancy (Arnstine, 1995).
For a school or classroom to encourage curiosity means that there will be time, time to think with no specific task that must be accomplished. And it means that there must be things of interest in the classroom. These interesting things can, indeed should, include books, especially books with lots of beautiful pictures. It is this rich environment that Dewey referred to when he described the library as the symbolic center of school (Dewey, 1959 p. 81).  “Providing a rich environment in or out of the classroom is the easy part. The hard part is providing the leisure that’s needed to take advantage of it. … Every day in school is a busy day as children move from scheduled activity to scheduled activity, from class to class. Nothing could be more detrimental to arousing curiosity in children” (Arnstine, 1995 p. 107).
Once a child’s curiosity has been aroused, and she has asked for more information, “too facile an answer to a child’s question may be a convenience for the child, but it doesn’t encourage her to follow up her own curiosity. Teachers, then, should encourage children to answer their own questions - by taking those questions seriously and providing the sort of guidance that might be helpful in exploring them.” Under certain circumstances, curiosity can be turned into problem-solving. Problem-solving begins “the moment when ‘I wonder what …’ is replaced by, ‘What if I …’ or ‘Why don’t we try to …’” (Arnstine, 1995 p. 100).
Problem-solving, in the sense that Arnstine meant it, is not simply a brute force attempt to destroy all obstacles in one’s path. It is “a thoughtful and not an impulsive or habitual activity” (Arnstine, 1995 p. 117). Problem-solving occurs when “the complexity, the novelty, or the seriousness of a situation calls for a delay of action. Then thinking becomes conscious: we feel it as a process” (Arnstine, 1995 p. 115). It is practice in the process of thinking that is the core educational value of problem-solving. It is the opportunity to model, not how to solve this problem, but how to solve problems generally. It is an opportunity to model how an adult learns.
It is not just splitting hairs to separate activities that count as problem-solving from those that don’t. We may want our students to learn how to follow directions, obey orders, and complete tasks. Schools certainly give them plenty of practice. But in doing those things, they won’t be learning to hypothesize, to test their ideas imaginatively, or to risk trying them out in practice. In short, they won’t learn the skills and dispositions that are developed by engaging in problem-solving if they spend all their time just completing assigned tasks. (Arnstine, 1995 p. 119)

Diversity of Population
The goal of universal education, presupposes that all children can learn. And further, since universal education really means universal schooling, it suggests that all children can succeed at the academic study and memorization that is school. 
To say that there are no unteachable children is trivial until one fills out the statement with what is to be taught to them and at what cost. Of course most children can learn many things. But, as an old math teacher, I am convinced that no matter how fine the teaching, there will be considerable differences between what is achieved in, say, geometry by students most and least interested in mathematics. I suspect also that there are some, perhaps many, who will never understand the logic of mathematical proof or the power and generality of its greatest products. (Noddings, 1992 p. 29)
From here, Noddings argued for a curriculum that is diverse, each student pursuing those things that most interest them and are most congruent with their skills. But even for those perennialists that argue for “the same objectives for all without exceptions” (Adler, 1982 p. 15) and  insist that “any subject can be taught effectively in some intellectually honest form to any child at any stage of development” (Bruner, 1960 p. 33), the need to understand the initial differences - why some students find math easy, while others struggle - is crucial to any attempt at universal schooling. Even if the objectives are the same, certainly different methods will be needed to communicate with different types of students.
One major description of these differences is Howard Gardner’s description of human intelligence. Gardener has found significant evidence for the fact that each human is an unique blend of various different intelligences. His initial list of seven intelligences is most well known: linguistic, logical-mathematical, musical, bodily-kinesthetic, spatial, interpersonal, and intrapersonal. As an example of the way the intelligences manifest, the difference between linguistic and logical explains why some students excel in English (linguistic) while others excel in math (logical). Gardner demonstrates that it is only these first two that have traditionally been valued and developed in classrooms. Historically, this simply insured that “scholars” (those with intelligence of these two sorts) stayed in school, while others pursued other interests - perhaps apprenticing to a blacksmith. But with universal education, with the professionalization of fields mentioned in chapter two, other options are no longer equally valuable or available. Many professions that were entered through apprenticeship, are now entered through schooling. If we want children whose main intelligences are not, mostly, these first two, to stay in school, we need to modify our methods of education in ways that will access the different intelligences (Gardner, 1999).
Another contributing factor in the diversity of the class population is the differing pace of development among same age peers.
The modern belief that children should progress uniformly through the grades is causing a major problem in kindergarten and first grade. At the heart of the problem is the fact that … the majority of children (about 85%) enter school after having been enrolled in one or another early childhood program. As a consequence, schools have tightened standards and now demand that all children know their letters and numbers before being accepted in the first-grade classroom. This demand is based on the … assumption … that all children of the same age will profit equally from whatever type of early childhood program they have experienced.
Yet the truth lies elsewhere. The early childhood years, roughly from age 3 to age 8, are a period of rapid intellectual growth comparable to the period of rapid physical growth of early adolescence. At such times individual differences in growth rates are most evident. With adolescents, for example, some reach their full height at 13, some at 14, some at 15, and some at 16. They may all end up being the same height , but they get there at different rates. The same is true for young children’s intellectual growth. Some may attain Piaget’s concrete operations at 4, some at 5, some at 6, and some at 7. They will all attain concrete operations, but at different rates - even if they have the same intellectual ability. Because these operations are a necessary prerequisite to learning numbers and letters, children of the same intellectual ability will differ widely in their ability to acquire tool skills. (Elkind, 1997 p. 244)
The idea that children progress in uniform fashion throughout the grades dies hard, despite abundant knowledge of the differential growth spurts that characterize early adolescence as well as early childhood. (Elkind, 1997 p. 244)
These differences have been magnified by the modern educational environment. In the one-room school house of old with multiple age groups, progress was not through the grades, but through the curriculum. There were older children available to tutor, and the pace was self-correcting. Today, however, there is a schedule. And the child who is not developing “on schedule” is considered behind, by peers, teachers, and parents (Elkind, 1997).
Cooperative Learning
All of this information may seem almost futile. How can a school possibly do all that seems to be required? The school must (a) provide the opportunity for experiences and social exploration; (b) allow students time to develop their own innate curiosity and follow that to develop their own interests; and  (c) do this in a way that responds to both the different developing pace of each student, and the different potentials inherent in each student’s unique mix of diverse intelligences. And let us not forget, we also want to teach reading and math!
One method of addressing all of these competing mandates is to place greater responsibility on the child. Rather than teach the whole class, greater individuation can be achieved if each child is given individual assignments. This offers the greatest flexibility in addressing each individual child’s needs. However, “research on effective instruction has consistently shown that student learning is enhanced by direct instruction from teachers, as opposed to extensive reliance on individualization, seatwork, and written materials” (Veenman, 1995 p. 370).
Over the last thirty years, a large body of evidence has developed around an effective alternative method called cooperative learning. Cooperative learning is not just doing work in groups. The research suggests that there are a number of key components of cooperative learning which must be included, or the benefits will be lost. The most crucial components are group goals and individual accountability (Stevens and Slavin, 1992; Slavin, 1999). Johnson and Johnson (1999) list five essential elements in effective cooperative learning groups: positive interdependence, individual accountability, promotive interaction, social skills, and group processing. Unfortunately, research has found that many teachers do not incorporate these elements into their group learning, and then the failure of the group experience is unfairly seen as a failure of cooperative learning (Slavin, 1999). Cooperative learning is not easy to implement. Much of the curriculum material available is not designed with cooperative learning in mind. It takes time, effort, and creativity to develop the materials in a way that will work with cooperative groups (Slavin, 1999).
But there are many benefits to cooperative learning that are demonstrated by years of research (Slavin, 1999). Certainly there are clear academic gains when using cooperative learning (Stevens and Slavin, 1992; Johnson and Johnson, 1999; Slavin, 1999). But beyond that, when done correctly, cooperative learning holds the hope of addressing all the needs we have articulated. It helps develop proper social skills (Johnson and Johnson, 1999). It has numerous opportunity for individual differentiation without the academic losses of independent work (Johnson and Johnson, 1999; Schniedewind and Davidson, 2000). It can be used to accommodate Gardner’s multiple intelligences (Janes et al., 2000). And, it forces students to develop their own curiosity (Janes et al., 2000) about the subject being studied, and to confront the insights of their peers (Johnson and Johnson, 1999).
Multiage classrooms
Much of what I suggest here seems to be a return towards the one room schoolhouse, or the European cheder. And indeed, while trying to avoid the trap of nostalgia, it is worthwhile to examine the practices that were so much a part of the pre-industrial community. Today our consciousness has developed past the sense that everything new, progressive, and technological must by definition be better (Forsten et al., 1999).
Multiage classrooms deserve some examination. As I have suggested, they may have contributed to the developmental openness of that past generation. Certainly the larger group allows for greater grouping options for cooperative learning, either by interest or ability (Gutierrez and Slavin, 1992; Forsten et al., 1999).
But to be honest, the data is mixed. The best that can be said is that there is little evidence to suggest multiage classrooms are worse. But there is also little evidence to suggest they are better. Any definitive claims of academic benefit are misplaced. And what social benefits might accrue are nebulous and hard to measure. The verdict is simply not yet in (Gutierrez and Slavin, 1992; Veenman, 1995; Mason and Burns, 1996; Veenman, 1996; Krochover et al., 1999; Kinsey, 2001).
Language Immersion
For someone born in the United States, learning a second language is uncommon. Indeed, often trying to teach a young child a second language is viewed with concern about the obstacle a second language presents for the child’s “normal” development. Additionally, the time used to teach the new language is time that might have been used for other, perhaps more pressing, academic study. These concerns are misplaced. In much of the world, today and in the past, a child grows up with two or more languages. And over the last number of years a large body of evidence has been compiled that suggests that second languages, if properly taught, have no academic or developmental downsides (Curtain and Pesola, 1988; ERIC Clearinghouse on Languages and Linguistics, 1995; Genesee and Cloud, 1998; Rosanova, 1998; Verhoeven, 2000; Naserdeen, 2001).
Language immersion is language education through the experience of language. It provides the student with an opportunity to imitate adults, and by doing so, it taps into the child’s innate motivations described earlier by Dewey. Rather than a focus on teaching the language, the focus shifts to using the language. How much time is spent in the target language varies. Some settings teach in the target language for the entire day, while others use its for as little as 50% of the time. And while there are differences in the results, immersion programs work. Particularly when it is done in a way that affords students the opportunity to talk to each other in the target language, students gain fluency in a second language with no academic losses, even primary language literacy (Curtain and Pesola, 1988; ERIC Clearinghouse on Languages and Linguistics, 1995; Genesee and Cloud, 1998; Wade-Woolley and Geva, 2000; Naserdeen, 2001).
Language immersion works best with young children (Naserdeen, 2001). Language immersion works even when the two languages are vastly different. A Canadian study found it effective in teaching Chinese to English speaking elementary children (Huang, 2003). Even if the goal of learning the second language is acquisition of reading comprehension skills in that language, immersion techniques work better than traditional methods of language instruction. “The greater the oral skills of the child, the greater the chances of making the correct inferences during literacy instruction” (Verhoeven, 2000 p. 327). The ability to speak a second language is tied to a number of benefits. It is correlated to higher scores on standardized tests in academics of all sorts, including primary language study (Naserdeen, 2001). A recent study has even shown that it seems to retard the mental deterioration of old age (Bialystok et al., 2004).
Not Just Schooling
La Belle (1975) described three different types of education, formal, nonformal, and informal. Formal education is done in a highly structured environment, generally a school. Nonformal education refers to education that occurs in an environment organized around a specific task, or a specific group of participants, like swimming lessons  or apprenticeship. Informal education is unorganized and unsystematic. It refers to the learning we do from seemingly random life experiences. He points out that the balance of these three has shifted dramatically. In less technological societies more learning happens in the nonformal setting where the learning is practical and experiential. In technological societies, the learning shifts to the formal setting where “the practical and applied may be supplanted by the theoretical and abstract. … The behavioral application of largely abstract learning is often left to each child on an individual basis” (La Belle, 1975 p. 167).
The abstract and theoretical learnings of the classroom are “insufficient and ineffective mechanisms for solving complex problems and achieving complex goals” (La Belle, 1975 p. 170). His solution is to attempt to integrate the types of education, to attempt to find some bridge between youth groups, swimming lessons, job training, and the academic environment of school.
“This does not mean that schools must be abandoned in favor of some unknown out-of-school programs. Instead, the achievement of many educational objectives depends on coordinated and collaborative approaches that serve the needs of a particular population in terms of particular objectives and goals. The school should play a central, but not exclusive, role in such programs” (La Belle, 1975 p. 172)
Mortimer Adler (1982) describes three types of teaching that, he says, correspond with three types of learning. A lecture is best for the “acquisition of organized knowledge”, coaching for “the development of skills”, and socratic conversation is best for “enlarging understanding of ideas and values” (p. 23). And while Adler was arguing for the inclusion of all these into a formal school setting, consider combining the three environments of La Belle with the three forms of teaching of Adler. Further, given the discussion of cooperative learning and multiage classrooms, add too, the additional dimension, age of instructor: adult, older child, peer. This synthesis creates a 3‑dimensional grid {Adler type, La Belle formality, teacher age}  with 27 possible types of educational interaction.
To understand the power of this model, consider some examples. Certainly there are the obvious ones  like {lecture, formal, adult}  that describe the traditional classroom, or {coaching, nonformal, adult}of karate class. But consider some less obvious ones that also have educational significance. For better and worse, many of us have experienced {lecture, informal, adult}  when some “random” adult chose to lecture us about the speed of our bicycle on the sidewalk, or the need to wear a helmet. Ironically, this type of interaction may well be among the interactions most reduced by urbanization. Random people are more guarded with each other, and less apt to speak to each other in this way. Or perhaps we recall a {coaching, nonformal, peer}  interaction, when the bright kid in the class really helped you do your homework one day. Finally, consider {socratic, formal, older child}  which might be represented by a conversation with an older sibling who helped us clarify our early awareness of politics.
Using this model as a guide, parents, teachers, and community need to work together to provide multiple educational experience types for each child. And we need to do this in a way that is responsive to each child and their unique abilities and talents. Nel Noddings (1992) addresses this when she speaks of utilizing lunch periods for conversation groups with teachers. With a little planning and thought, the void that is lunch time can become an opportunity for groups to experience socratic and coaching from adults, older children, perhaps even peers.
The School
By now, it is perhaps clear that I am not describing how to create a school, but rather, how to create a community. Indeed, cliched as it may be, “it takes a village to raise a child”. Communities have become weakened by the history of the past century, and schools need to reinvigorate the child’s experience of community if they hope to raise, that is to say educate, successful children.
CHAPTER VII
	THE IDEAL YESHIVA KETANA

Limits
It is time now to consider what then is the perfect school. Or perhaps more accurately, it is time now to describe what makes the ideal educational environment for our target audience. Clearly, this is not entirely possible. As has already been discussed, the perfect education is a moving target; this description will undoubtedly be dated before it is completed. Further, the school environment I am describing would be difficult to implement in the real world. It cannot be called perfect if it is impractical.
And yet, even though this school may never exist, there is value in its description and articulation.  I describe the goal - the ideal case - to describe what education could be. A clear understanding of this ideal will help us to move towards it. In the next chapter, I will show how specific elements of this perfect case can be applied in the real world of existing Strictly Orthodox day schools.
Goals
Before describing the educational practices for the ideal school, it is crucial to be clear about the philosophy and goals of this school. I propose three goals for Strictly Orthodox elementary education in America today:
1.	Raise children who love their Jewish heritage and are committed to Jewish values and religious practice.
2.	Raise children who love the process of learning, most especially who love the learning of Torah, and are committed to continue learning - as a religious experience - throughout their lives.
3.	Raise children who are competent to live adult lives in the United States of the 21st century. They should be able to participate intelligently in the democratic process, and should have the skills needed to pursue employment or advanced vocational training. 
These goals are a direct reflection of the philosophy of Jewish education articulated in chapter three. The first goal is chinuch. The second one is limud. And the third goal is umanus. The order of these three goals is not accidental, it is crucial. As we discussed in chapter three, limud is meaningful only in the context of a religious life. The crucial goal of Jewish Education school is to ensure religious life. Every school should attempt to ensure that  every child remain a committed Orthodox Jew.
Some recent Strictly Orthodox educators do not take this approach. They see limud as the most crucial goal of elementary schools. “The only yardstick for measuring Day School success is its graduates’ continuation on to the mesifta-yeshiva high school level. Nothing else really matters” (Belsky, 1977 p. 6). Dr. Kaminetsky (1966b) distinguishes the Strictly Orthodox day school from other day schools by suggesting that “their basic aim is to prepare their pupils for further study in a Mesivta or Yeshivah Gedolah” (p. 41). Later in this same article, Kaminetsky lists six goals that are shared by all Orthodox day schools. The first goal is “to produce ‘bnei Torah’ or ‘Talmidei Hahamim’”, that is scholars, while the need “to inspire their pupils to observe Jewish law” is relegated to goal two (p. 42). To be fair, both Rabbi Belsky and Dr. Kaminetsky undoubtedly see Jewish living as crucial. Presumably, they see Jewish learning as the determining factor in ensuring Jewish living. That however seems not to be the case. Based on a recent study of the American Jewish population, Rabbi Berel Wein (2004) points out that “observance of Jewish rituals and customs is more of an indicator of Jewish continuity than Jewish education.” Further, he suggests that this pattern is one that has been seen before.
In nineteenth-century Eastern Europe, the masses of Jews had an education far inferior to what is offered now in our day schools and yeshivot. It was the practice of Judaism that kept them loyal Jews. Ironically, when the Haskalah swept through Eastern European Jewry, the intensity of Jewish education increased, but the discipline of Jewish observance declined. This contributed to the waves of assimilation and defection from Judaism and the Jewish people that characterized that time and place. (p. 16)
These observations, and the evidence offered in chapter three, are sufficient for me to conclude that chinuch must be seen as the primary goal. But even while chinuch is primary, the balance is elusive. Indeed, perhaps the greatest challenge to Jewish schools today is to find the balance between chinuch and limud. While limud must be done within the context of religious devotion, that cannot be an excuse for schools to avoid academic limud. First, limud is itself an aspect of chinuch. Since learning is a lifetime religious responsibility, dedication and habituation in that task is an aspect of chinuch. Further, since limud entails learning the divine word of G-d, it has a moral effect on the student. Learning Torah, with the appropriate motivation, effects the moral character of the learner (Babylonian Talmud, 475 Kiddushin 30b). If chinuch is concerned with that moral character, it must expose the student to limud. Conspiring to make the balance between limud and chinuch particularly elusive is the fact that each student will need a different balance of the two. Some parents are better at providing one or the other to their children. A child with a good academic home, needs perhaps more opportunities to explore actual mitzvah performance. On the other hand, some families may excel at chinuch, but not have the skills to help their children with academic limud. Some students may be particularly able or open to limud, while another may respond better to chinuch. The school does not have the right merely to select a path that will be best for most of its students. As discussed in chapter three, with both chinuch and limud there is a responsibility to address the individual student. Any school that hopes to fulfill this responsibility must have an extraordinary ability to tailor curriculum for the individual student.
In striving to find the balance between chinuch and limud it will be helpful to notice that even limud is an affective, rather than a cognitive, goal. It is not, as Rav Dessler (1963) said, sufficient to teach students Torah, it is necessary to instill within each student a love for Torah. Protected Jewish Space
An ideal yeshiva ketana will be first and foremost a Strictly Orthodox Jewish community unto itself. It will be concerned with Jewish living. Both Jewish learning and secular competence should be seen as part of a holistic and integrated Jewish life. This does not mean that nothing from the outside is ever allowed to intrude. Rather, it means that everything that is allowed to enter, must enter only through a conscious Jewish choice. In the school setting that would mean that all secular experiences and influence be a result of careful staff consideration and mediation to enhance the learning experience.
Certainly school cannot operate in complete isolation. Students will have lives outside of school and they will bring their outside lives into school with them. However, every element of the school program must be a result of staff consideration, and it must be chosen to enhance the school’s Jewish environment. 
Some secular readers might be concerned with the strict censorship and limited perspective presented here. Philosophically, my response might be simply to disagree. Orthodox Judaism, and especially Strictly Orthodox Judaism, has a long tradition of sheltering children from outside influence, a fact discussed in chapter four. But it might be more instructive to point out that even proponents of multiculturalism and diversity agree that children need to have a clear cultural base from which to launch their multicultural lives. “Individuals must have positive, clarified and reflective commitments and identifications with their cultural groups before they can develop reflective and positive identifications with the national culture” (Banks, 1997 p. 136). “Consider whether education, in any truly basic sense, can occur at all except within enclaves where some central affirmation is possible … where adults, therefore, can speak to youth with solid assurance and without embarrassment about who they are, how and where they stand, and how they got that way” (Green, 1994p. 73).
Opportunities
There should be appropriate lectures, seminars, and coaching opportunities that include differing levels of formality, and a variety of teacher ages. Students should be given an opportunity to work with the “non-academic” intelligences, and should be shown how to integrate them into their Jewish lives. And while some classes must be mandatory and essentially single age, others might be multiage and many should be elective. 
Suggesting that even young students can choose their study based on interest does not mean they can choose anything.  A student’s desire to play video games, does not obligate the school to supply the quarters. However, the student’s expressed interest in video games might be an opportunity to motivate various types of meaningful work: a discussion of just war theory or the value of human life, a development of the physical skills needed to defend oneself, or an investigation of game theory or computer programming.
Given the current social realities, there is a concern that a completely open choice will not be truly open. Students who choose to learn more Torah will be labeled “good” kids regardless of their motivation for the learning, while students who forgo additional limud to pursue their genuine interests will be labeled “bad” kids. The choices will be dictated by parental influence and peer pressure, rather than genuine interest. This would be unfortunate; students need to experience various modes of expression so that they can experience their inherent interests and develop their unique blend of intelligences. To avoid these labels, and to guarantee each child the chance to experience the learning modes he needs, choices must be, somewhat, constrained. That is, while some time will be choice driven, some amount of exposure to various learning modes must be mandatory.
The library is an integral part of the learning environment. It provides for the serendipitous exposure that can lead to authentic curiosity. And it provides the tools for students to effectively pursue their curiosity and interests. The uncontrolled nature of the exposure makes the careful choice of the library resources vital, and the need for resources makes that choice difficult. On the one hand, the collection must be broad enough that it can arouse the curiosity of a wide variety of students. On the other hand, the Jewish nature of the environment must not be compromised. To ensure that students have exposure to library materials, the library should be designed as an active learning center, rather than as a quiet reference place. To help provide the opportunity for exploration, every conceivable activity, coaching and perhaps even seminars, should take place in the library.
To structure the relationships in this learning community, the research surrounding cooperative learning must be used throughout the school organization. Cooperative learning, the traditional chaburah and chevrusah of Yeshiva learning, needs to be integrated into the fiber of the school. Cooperative base groups will meet every day (Johnson and Johnson, 1999). Coaching and chevrusa opportunities will be organized around cooperative learning tasks that include positive interdependence and individual accountability.
The academic learning of Torah, limud, will remain a distinct and recognizable part of the curriculum. This is meant to directly address the concerns of the rabbinic authorities quoted in chapter four. Limud can not be integrated away. However, that does not prevent us from integrating additional Torah learning into all the secular learning we teach. The separation of limud into a specific subject is not meant to segregate learning from life. Every activity in the school must be seen as an opportunity to convey Torah thought and values.
One way that the learning of Jewish content will permeate the school is in the language spoken. The traditional prayer book, the Tanach, the Mishna, and almost all traditional Jewish scholarship are written in Hebrew. Hebrew language is an absolute prerequisite to Jewish learning and Jewish living. To guarantee that students see these books as open ones, school will be a Hebrew immersion environment.
Content Outline
A model day begins with tefilah, or Jewish prayer. This should be seen primarily as a chinuch experience. Students should be offered the opportunity to pray in an environment that is as inspirational as possible. The immersion environment of the school means that students should be expected to understand the prayers they are saying; that is, students should not be expected to say any prayer until their vocabulary is sufficiently developed that they will naturally understand most of it. It is extremely difficult for prayer to be meaningful if the words are meaningless.
Every part of the day is utilized in a way that furthers the educational goals. Breakfast is a chance for the cooperative base groups to hold daily meetings.
Each of the three goals listed above is represented by a curriculum component. The curriculum for the Jewish Studies component is a return to the curriculum suggested in the Mishna. Spend five years mastering the Tanach, then five years mastering the Mishna. The three Rs: reading, writing, and ‘rithmatic are the curriculum for the Secular Skills component. The Jewish Life component is an integrated curriculum that includes elements of Jewish law, Jewish thought, social studies (i.e. the social sciences), and science (i.e. the “hard” sciences). Each unit should have some overarching Jewish theme, and incorporate knowledge from Jewish and secular fields as appropriate to the study. By way of example, consider the following units: (a) discussion of the importance of minhag, Jewish custom, with some study of the history that motivates the differing customs; (b) study of Shabbos in Jewish thought and law, with an examination of the universality of a seven day week; (c) study of  anatomy and biology centered around the study of the laws of kashrus - the signs of kosher animals, the concept of treifa, the laws of proper slaughter, and perhaps a discussion of proper use and treatment of animals; (d) discussion of materialism and poverty that is informed by both social science (for data), and Jewish sources (for data and perspective); (e) study of the human body organized by the prayers that express our gratitude for its functions.
Physical education is meant to offer the needed break from academic study, but not at the abandonment of Jewish life. It must be educative, in that it must teach the students the place of physical expression in Jewish life. This would include team building and sportsmanship issues, but might also include doing mitzvos that requires physical exertion, like building a sukkah, or perhaps even the renovation of a home as in Habitat for Humanity. Certainly it would include fitness education in the context of the religious obligation to guard our physical health.
If we are to reach every student, then each student’s unique talents must be addressed. And each of these talents must be developed in a way that demonstrates its connection to Jewish life, that shows that this particular talent makes a meaningful contribution to the Jewish people. Artistic expressions need not, indeed should not, be merely the development of a tool. Part of the curriculum should include models for appropriate expression of these talents within a Jewish context. In music, a study of zmiros would be an interesting opportunity to expose students to aspects of law and thought surrounding Shabbos. Drawing and other visual arts might be an opportunity to discuss the concept of hiddur mitzva.
Interest choice time, is an opportunity for students to follow their interests. This is not however a time for independent research. As discussed in the previous chapter, independent work is not the most efficient use of learning time. However, groups that are organized around interests, and are structured as cooperative learning groups would provide ample opportunity for various interests to be explored. Interest groups should not be limited to academic study. While some students might choose that path, others should be encouraged to pursue other interests, limited only by the imagination and by the school’s three goals.
The curriculum of the informal lunch discussion groups should be based on interest as well. Depending on the scope of the interests and on the availability of teachers, each student might participate in two different groups, one on Mondays and Wednesdays, and one on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Possible topics for exploration might include: aesthetics and art, current events or politics, self-improvement and mussar, and the weekly Torah portion.
The language of the community should be Hebrew. Most of the day, students and teachers alike should be expected to speak in Hebrew. Hebrew grammar need not be an explicit part of the curriculum. Rather, it should be addressed in one of two situations. Any teacher should, as appropriate, correct the spoken Hebrew of any student, much as a parent or teacher would correct the spoken English of a child. When it seems necessary that correction can be accompanied by a few brief words of explanation. When studying a Jewish text, any grammatical form that is unfamiliar should be introduced.

Learning Situations
Each of our three goals has, as its central component, a pair of experiences. Limud is accomplished through a a combination of lecture and cooperative coaching. This is a return to the cheder approach of teaching a small group of like skilled students for a short time and then expecting them to review on their own. The Secular Skills curriculum, too, is conveyed through a combination of lecture and coaching.The Life Studies component uses a combination of lecture and seminar.
The lectures will be age segregated. The coaching opportunities will be tailored to each student. Stronger students would engage in mutual peer coaching, weaker students might have an older student (who himself needs to review some more basic skills) coach them. And the very weakest students would have coaching from adults. The Life Studies seminar would also be age segregated.
Other elements of the school would be open to mixed age participation. As much as is practical would be organized around cooperative learning groups with group tasks. This does not mean that they would be operating without a teacher. Some groups, especially some that had the leadership of an older student, might operate without ongoing teacher supervision. Some groups, might have a teacher participate as part of the group. Consider the possibility of a school band. A teacher might supervise the band, and act as conductor. But that need not prevent a few students from forming a second band, perhaps because they want to focus on more difficult music, or a specific genre of music.

Scheduling Example
Table 3
Theoretical School Schedule
	Sunday - Thursday	Friday	
8-8:30	Tefilah	
8:30-9	Breakfast w/cooperative base group	
9-10	Jewish Studies Lecture	
		
10-10:30	Jewish Studies Coaching 	
10:30-11	Jewish Interest Choices	
11-11:30	Physical Education	
11:30-12	Life Studies lecture	
12-12:30	Life Studies seminar	Go home, help prepare for  Shabbos	
12:30-	Lunch w/discussion group (one on MW another on TTh)		
1:30			
1:30-2	Secular Skills Coaching		
2-3	Secular Skills Lecture		
			
3-3:30	Secular Skills Coaching		
3:30-4	Physical Education		
4-4:30	Art/Drama/Music choices		
4:30-5:30	Interest Choices		

Table 4
Theoretical Faculty Schedule
Faculty Schedule Additions	
Sun-Thurs 5:30-6	Faculty Task Group meetings 	
Friday 12-12:30	Faculty Base Group meeting	

This example is meant only to demonstrate how all the parts might fit together. A 5½ day week, and a school day that is 9½ hours long. Even the early dismissal on Friday is educational. It is a mitzva to prepare for Shabbos. It is a mitzva to help one’s parents. As chinuch ultimately means the performance of mitzvos, the school should take advantage of the mitzva opportunities that present themselves. There is one exception to this rule. Jewish law is clear that even communal mitzvos are not sufficient to stop the limud of children. Part of the chinuch aspect of the school will be then to ensure that nothing interferes with the hour and a half dedicated to limud.
Program Evaluation
The summative evaluation process for this school would require long term data on graduates. All of the goals of the school project a long term hope on the lives of the students. To properly assess the school’s success, the school will need to keep in touch with all its graduates.
The formative evaluation of the school would be part of the faculty group process. The entire faculty would constitute a single cooperative base group. The main task of this group would be to support faculty efforts, evaluate progress on an ongoing basis, and consider new avenues for exploration. This base group would meet weekly.

Student Evaluation
Every day (Sunday-Thursday) the faculty would meet in task oriented cooperative groups. As there will be overlap, not every group will meet each day, but each group should meet no less than once a week. The function of these groups would be two-fold: to develop and enhance the ongoing curriculum, and evaluate the students’ performance.  Groups would design curricular units in response to student needs and interests, and would then be responsible for evaluating the implementation of the design, and the success of the students in that unit. The faculty base group would examine these evaluations as part of its overall school evaluation.
Students must be held accountable for the learning that they do. Most of the learning would be evaluated via cooperative group projects that provide positive interdependence and individual accountability. These projects would be evaluated by the faculty task group. The presentation of work to the task group might take different forms. It might be accepted by a single member during the scheduled time (e.g. the instructor who oversees band might make observations and report to the task group). It might be presented to the whole task group during the scheduled time (e.g. the band might have a concert that the whole school, including the task group, attends). Or it might be presented to the task group in a special presentation that takes place outside of regular school hours (e.g. an evening concert).
Staffing
The adults that create and nurture this environment are crucial for its success. If the hope is to create an all-encompassing Jewish experience, every staff member must be able to model that goal. So while faculty members might have areas of personal specialty and responsibility, each member of the staff must be qualified as a religious model and instructor. Every staff person need not be academically qualified as a rebbe, a teacher of limud, but each must be a role model that the school would consider a success for its students, a person committed to Jewish practice, a life learner, and able to participate in society. Every staff person must be qualified to participate in the chinuch process.
The traditional teacher of Jewish learning is the rebbe. He, more than any other single person, represents the tradition to a young learner. Historically, a rebbe had the same students for a number of years, and had a chance to develop a deep connection between himself and his students. In this school as well, the rebbe will keep the same students for multiple years. There is no reason to define in advance exactly how many years that might be. As a target, I would suggest three years with the same teacher. Ultimately though, it is up to the discretion of the rebbe and faculty, in the cooperative groups, to evaluate when a group of students might need to continue with the same teacher, and when they would benefit most from a new personality.
In this school, the librarian may well be the most crucial role. And while the job may be significant enough that more than one person is needed, it is important to the integration of the school that the responsibilities not be divided between Jewish books and secular books. Certainly, there should be many books that discuss history, science, and math, but there should be nothing that is truly secular. As it is the librarian who is responsible for all the data resources that are available to the students, in a very important sense, the librarian is the gatekeeper of knowledge. The tension between the strict censorship policy and the desire for broad exposure will succeed only if the librarian is both careful and insightful in the choices that he makes.
CHAPTER VIII
	INCREMENTAL CHANGE

Evolutionary Change
The last chapter described the possibility of revolutionary change. This chapter will discuss some evolutionary possibilities. Six components from the previous chapter can each be applied independently of each other with benefit to the students. So though I yet hope for the revolutionary vision of the last chapter, I acknowledge that even modest and gradual improvement is a worthy and meaningful goal.
Make the Secular Holy
Integration of Jewish and secular studies has a long history of scholarship in America (Goodside, 1951; Goodside, 1953; see for example Axelrod, 1953; Burack, 1967; Solomon, 1979; Ingall and Malkus, 2001). But like many terms that are popular, it is not always clear what the term integration means. Solomon (1978) examines these meanings in some detail. Often, as in the case examined in chapter two of the Providence Hebrew Day School (Horvitz, 1982), the term meant simply that Hebrew and Secular courses were scheduled throughout the day. In other examples, it meant the mixing of the two curriculums to the extent that only one single curriculum remains.
I am not proposing integration in either of these two manners. The Jewish studies curriculum must remain an identifiable, textual based study. But that does not mean that any additional learning must be identifiably secular. Integration of the secular study into Jewish life and Jewish study is a necessary element in preparing our children to live as Orthodox Jews within a secular society.
Many schools already seek to do this in some small ways. But even in the schools where this is attempted, the Jewish faculty and the secular faculty remain distinct. The secular faculty is not trusted to the same degree with Torah content and Torah ideals. And as a result, the studies remain secular. If this integration is to be successful, the history teacher must be every bit as reliable as the rebbe. If there are no teachers of this type available, if the rebbe can’t teach history, the school and community must make the financial commitment to train them.
Many integrated curriculums have already been created, and while they cannot be accepted as a replacement for Jewish limud, there is no reason not to adapt them to replace secular studies. David Bernstein (1986) examines the way that history can be integrated with the study of Jewish history. Solomon Burack (1967) looks at the science curriculum for grades 7-9 with an eye for Torah content and philosophy. Samuel Goodside (1951) integrates a tremendous amount of Torah content into the New York State social studies curriculum, while Fannie Kreinen (1989) demonstrates that music can be a gateway to Jewish content.
Hebrew Immersion
There is no reason to take academic time and effort to teach Hebrew language. Simply use the language everywhere, and allow the students to learn it naturally. Not only does this free up the time currently spent in the study of Hebrew language, it allows all the Judaic studies to be more productive. Rather than spending time on translation and simple comprehension, students can examine the deeper meanings of the texts.
Finding the teachers for this program might seem daunting. The solution though is straightforward. Have a summer immersion experience for the full staff and faculty. This financial cost can be justified not only for the Hebrew gain, but all the other things that can be accomplished during the time used speaking Hebrew. For example, during the summer immersion program the teachers can interact and discuss their plans for the following school year.
Historically, Strictly Orthodox leaders concerned with the learning experience of the child were wary of teaching children in a foreign language. Teach the child in the language in which he is most comfortable. Allow him and his rebbe the maximum ability to communicate (Henkin, 1952). But the new evidence from language immersion studies suggests a reevaluation of these concerns. The studies cited in chapter six make it clear that teaching in Hebrew, in the context of an immersion program, would not damage the the communication between rebbe and student at all. If, despite the evidence, the concern remains, consider teaching all the secular subjects in Hebrew, while teaching the Jewish subjects in English. This suggestion is similar to one made by Rav Henkin to address his concerns (Henkin, 1952).
No Recess
Every moment of the school day can be structured to promote Jewish growth. Every non-academic moment of the day, even recess and even meals, can be distinctly Jewish. First, there need to be clear expectations for Jewish moral behavior at all times. Beyond that, consider how the less formal parts of the school day might be used to instill attitudes and develop relationships. Children need to have fun; relaxation, play, and amusement all play an important part in a healthy Jewish life. But they are appropriate only as part of an integrated spiritual life, not as a distinct goal (Karo, 1575a OH 231). Children must be taught to see that even fun can be used in the service of G-d. This lesson can be taught a number of ways, for example, games can be used to reinforce lessons and mitva opportunities can be turned into fun excursions. Also, the Jewish component of a meal need not be limited to the obvious: kosher food, brachos [blessings] and bentching [grace after meals]. Rather, each meal can be an opportunity for less formal Jewish learning. It can be an opportunity for the rebbe and student to interact outside the formality of the classroom (see La Belle, 1975; Noddings, 1992). Cooperative Learning
Cooperative learning should be an easy fit into the Jewish learning environment. The research and methods of cooperative learning help to articulate what many yeshiva students experience in the chevrusa or chabura, and help make those experiences accessible to younger students.
But memory of yeshiva experience is not sufficient. While the chevrusa and chabura approach work with little teacher intervention in the yeshiva gedola, that environment is not the same as an elementary school. To make the experience work with younger children takes planning. The cooperative learning research can help make these experiences accessible to elementary students. But as the cooperative learning research shows, only through study and training can these innovations be successfully implemented (Stevens and Slavin, 1992; Johnson and Johnson, 1999; Slavin, 1999).
Developing cooperative materials takes time and creativity. If cooperative learning is adopted first in the secular program, there are some materials already available that might mitigate the time pressure. But especially in Jewish studies, where the teacher often develops all the materials himself, the additional time for developing cooperative materials must be afforded.
The Bais Medrash
Create a space where children are free to explore their own interests in learning. And make sure the materials are there which will enable and encourage that exploration. As an example, consider Rabbi Chait’s book (1992), The Thirty-nine Melachos of Shabbos. This book is deceptively simple in appearance. With brief captions and colorful illustrations Rabbi Chait explores the laws of Shabbos observance. A simple look through this wonderful book serves as a meaningful introduction to the laws of Shabbos. A careful and thoughtful examination of the book, and its skillfully chosen examples, leads a student to the subtle details of those laws. Imagine the learning that could happen if students were allowed the time to explore this book. If this book, and books like it, were in the reading corner of a first or second grade classroom, and time was designated for students to follow their interests, lots of learning would happen (see Arnstine, 1995).
Limud Curriculum
There is a single curriculum for limud clearly stated in Avos. “הוא היה אומר בן חמש שנים למקרא בן עשר שנים למשנה … בן חמש עשרה לגמרא” (Babylonian Talmud, 475 Avos 5:21). “He used to say: five years (is the age) for (the study of) Scripture, ten-for (the study of) mishnah, … fifteen-for (the study of) talmud” (Epstein, 1961 Avos 5:21). As discussed in chapter three, despite the fact that this curriculum has rarely been followed, it has the support of a vast array of Torah authorities throughout history. The Aruch HaShulchan suggests the curriculum change might be a response to the greater availability of texts, and especially of vowelized texts. With the further proliferation of printing, and now computer databases, his rationale seems even stronger. But despite the rationale, the limud curriculum from Avos has strong advantages. 
The grandeur of the Avos curriculum is that it prepares the weakest students for their entire lives, while offering vital tools to even the most successful scholar. I know of no other curriculum that can make the same claim. The stronger student might find the pace slow, but the learning is meaningful. All of traditional Jewish scholarship is based on these foundations, a strong background in Tanach and Mishna prepares the student for serious Jewish scholarship. And, to help him appreciate the foundation he is building, a strong student can be given some opportunities to explore that scholarship, even as the focus remains on Tanach and Mishna. And the limud curriculum from Avos sets a pace that allows even a weak student to succeed. This is particularly crucial. An academically weak student may never succeed at the more rigorous aspects of Jewish scholarship. For him Tanach and Mishna may be the Jewish learning at which he is most successful. Building this foundation for him means giving him an opportunity to love learning.

CHAPTER IX
	CONCLUSION

In the Introduction, I posed a number of questions that have framed this work. Allow me to restate them here in slightly modified form:
1.	Are day schools the best possible Jewish Education?
2.	As conditions in America change, should we consider new possibilities?
3.	How have changing conditions affected the schools we might have?
4.	How have changing conditions affected the schools we might want?
In an attempt at answering these questions, I developed  three components to Jewish education: limud, chinuch, and umanus. And I attached prime importance to chinuch. Based on these components, I articulated three goals for a yeshiva ketana:
1.	Raise children who love their Jewish heritage and are committed to Jewish values and religious practice.
2.	Raise children who love the process of learning, most especially who love the learning of Torah, and are committed to continue learning - as a religious experience - throughout their lives.
3.	Raise children who are competent to live adult lives in the United States of the 21st century. They should be able to participate intelligently in the democratic process, and should have the skills needed to pursue employment or advanced vocational training. 
In describing these educational goals I discussed the importance of a protected space. Jewish sources describing each of the educational components demand a protected space in which to educate. In chapter two, I examined the historical forces that introduced secular studies into the Jewish school and forced a compromise in the protected space of Jewish education. But as I discussed, many of those forces are no longer applicable. The day school was, and remains, a great compromise. It has allowed various factions of the community to unite behind a school program which had the crucial advantage of being possible. But like all compromises, it came with sacrifice. That sacrifice is, for many communities, no longer necessary and no longer justified. The Strictly Orthodox community today has the opportunity to retake control of its educational program. We can return education to a truly protected space.
Beyond the requirements of Jewish law, a return to a protected space would help address the needs of vulnerable children. Throughout the Orthodox Jewish world, young adults that were raised in the Orthodox world are experimenting with self-destructive behaviors, substance abuse, behavioral addictions, even suicide. The exact dimensions of the problem have not been scientifically studied, and estimates vary widely. But the problem, however small, exists (Wolpin, 1999; Farkas and Lob, 2000).
A factor in these tragedies is the post-modern moral relativism examined in chapter five. The day school was born in a time when the American environment was much less hostile to the traditional religious sensibilities of the Strictly Orthodox. The seepage of American culture into the Jewish child’s day was not particularly harmful. Especially given that the only alternative at the time was to immerse the child into the secular culture of public schooling. Today, that reality has changed. “Whimsy and indifference” have replaced “responsibility and commitments” (Marty, 1997 p. 245). Ironically, the post-modern relativism responsible for the problem also offers a solution. Today, there is little reason to fear that the New York State Board of Regents, or any other government agency, will demand an educational program that is exactly parallel to the public school curriculum.
In the early 20th century the educational leaders in this country were often entirely bereft of secular skills. As I described in chapter two, the lack of secular skills among the day school leadership meant that designing secular curriculum often fell to the teacher. And those teachers were often public school teachers. But that need no longer be the case. Day schools have succeeded in educating three generations of American Jews. We have the skills needed to design a curriculum that is truly our own.
Now, when defection from Orthodoxy is not viewed as normal, but rather as tragic, educators must consider what they might do to prevent even a single tragedy. The secular world has developed educational methods which are designed to reach out to each individual student. A school that uses these methods, and does so in the context of a Jewish protected space, has the best possibility of raising each child in a way that will help  him embrace his Jewish heritage.
APPENDIX A
GLOSSARY
Bais Medrash - House of study, combination of library and learning center.
Bris (brissim pl.) - Ritual circumcision.
Chassidic - see Ultra Orthodox
Chabura - A group of, usually advanced, students in a yeshiva gedola who study the same material. Often, they rotate the role of teacher, each one preparing to present to the others.
Cheder - Literally, “room”. A Yiddish term for a Jewish school, usually referring to the traditional European one room school. Today it is also used to refer to all boys elementary day schools that serve the chassidic community.
Chevrusa - A traditional study partner.
Chinuch - A component of Jewish education. It refers to the practice of mitzvos as a child in preparation for adult life.
Cholov yisroel - Milk that has been produced with Jewish supervision.
Chumash - A book containing the Hebrew text of the Five Books of Moses.
Day school - An all day Jewish private school that includes a double curriculum, Judaic and secular.
G‑d - To indicate respect, some Jewish writers prefer a hyphen to an o.
Gemara - Capitalized it refers to the text of discussions surrounding the Mishna that were produced in the Babylonian academies of circa 219 to 475 C.E.. Not capitalized it refers to the logical process that produced those discussions.
Glatt kosher - With regard to meat, it is a higher standard of kosher observance, based on details of Jewish law regarding the animal’s lungs.
Halacha - Jewish law.
Hiddur Mitzva - This refers to the obligation to do mitzvos in the most beautiful way possible.
Kosher - Indicates that Jewish law considers the food described as acceptable for Jewish consumption.
Limud -  A component of Jewish education. It is describes the academic study of Jewish texts.
Mesivta - An all-boys, high school level day school, usually connected to a yeshiva gedola, and generally serving the Strictly Orthodox.
Mikra - Complete Jewish scripture. Also called Tanach.
Minyan - A quorum of ten adult male Jews, who come together for prayers three times daily. Jewish men are, generally obligated to attend.
Mishna - Capitalized, it refers to the legal text produced by Rabbi Judah and completed circa 189 C.E.. Uncapitalized, it refers to any simple, and normative, statement of Jewish law. 
Mitzva (mitzvos pl.) - Literally, commandment. A religious duty or obligation.
Modern Orthodox - “They are observant in that they eat kosher food, abstain from work on the Sabbath, pray every day, and celebrate Jewish holidays as prescribed by Jewish law. At the same time, they maintain a delicate balance between the outside world and their own community, which at times results in a watering down of various observances. … The Modern Orthodox tend to send their children to coed, ideologically liberal yeshivas at both the elementary and high school levels.” (Helmreich, 1982 p. 53).
Mohel (mohelim pl.) - A religiously and medically trained person who performs a bris.
Mussar - That part of Jewish traditional scholarship that deals specifically with the refinement of human personality.
Non-observant Orthodox - “Jews who are affiliated with Orthodox synagogues but have no commitment to the halakha or even ritual” (Mishkin, 1986b p. 166)
Rashi - Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki (YEARS), the author of one of the most important commentaries on the Talmud and on Tanach.
Rav - Hebrew for rabbi.
Rebbe - Hebrew for my rabbi, indicating a personal relationship with this rabbi. The term often refers to a rabbi who teaches Jewish studies, especially Talmud.
Shabbos - The Jewish Sabbath which includes a number of requirements and restrictions. For example, an Orthodox Jew does not, in any way, adjust an electric device on Shabbos, nor cook any food.
Siddur - A Jewish prayer book.
Strictly Orthodox - “Probably just as religiously observant as the Ultra Orthodox, though less noticeably so. … Their children are likely to attend more Orthodox yeshivas [than the Modern Orthodox], usually all-boys or all-girls schools. … On the other hand, many are highly educated with most, unlike the Hasidim, having gone to college. … Of late, they seem to be interacting more with the Ultra Orthodox” (Helmreich, 1982 p. 54).
Sukkah - A temporary dwelling used as part of an annual celebration.
Talmud - Capitalized, it refers to the combination of Mishna and Gemara. Uncapitalized it is a synonym for gemara.
Tanach - A Hebrew acronym referring to the three sections of the Jewish scripture, Torah (Five Books of Moses), Neviim (Prophets), and Ktuvim (Writings).
Torah im Derech Eretz - A school of thought within the Strictly Orthodox that approves of the integration of secular knowledge into an Orthodox life and curriculum. It sees secular knowledge as a legitimate method of spiritual aspiration.
Torah Only - A school of thought within the Strictly Orthodox that, generally, has a dim view of secular study. Only the revealed word of G‑d is a legitimate spiritual aspiration.
Treifa - An animal which is considered not kosher because of any one of a  specific group of physical defects. 
Ultra Orthodox - “Ultra Orthodox are characterized by a distinctive garb and physical appearance that includes long black coats, large black hats, and full beards. … Their social interaction with outsiders is minimal. The various sects are extremely loyal to their leaders or ‘rebbes,’ consulting them whenever possible on both religious and secular matters. In addition to rigid adherence to the laws of the Torah, they have added many customs unique to their own respective groups” (Helmreich, 1982 p. 53).
Umanus - A component of Jewish education. It refers to the father’s obligation to prepare his son to earn a living.
Yeshiva (yeshivos pl.) - An all male institution of Jewish learning. Used by itself, the term usually refers to a yeshiva gedola, but it is occasionally used in the name of a yeshiva ketana.
Yeshiva community - see Strictly Orthodox
Yeshiva ketana - An all boys, elementary level day school that generally serves the Strictly Orthodox.
Yeshiva gedola - An all male institution of higher Jewish learning.
Zmiros - Traditional poetry written and sung in honor of the Shabbos.

APPENDIX B
TRADITIONAL JEWISH SCHOLARSHIP

In the few paragraphs that follow, the reader is introduced into the basic structure of traditional Jewish legal scholarship. This history presents the traditional Jewish view of these events.
In 1313 B.C.E. the Jewish people experienced Revelation at Sinai. At the time, G‑d presented them with the decalogue, and an oral tradition of law, called the Oral Torah. During the forty years that followed, Moses taught that oral tradition, and transcribed the Five Books of Moses, the Written Torah, from G-d’s dictation. Traditionally, the Written Torah included indications of most of the Oral Torah via a series of exegetical rules. Early Jewish scholarship was primarily the attempt to connect these hints to the laws they indicated.
Jewish scholars were held responsible by G-d for the spiritual growth of their generation. To facilitate this development, Jewish scholars were authorized to create new laws. These laws, rabbinic legislation, were distinguished from the Torah law included in the original Oral Torah.
Between 313 C.E. and 246 C.E. the Jewish Scriptures, including a total of 24 books, was canonized. The Scripture, or Tanach, is made up of three sections: the Bible, the Prophets, and the Writings.
In c. 189 C.E., Rabbi Judah completed the Mishna. Rabbi Judah was among the scholar leaders of his generation, and was from the royal house of King David. He wrote the Mishna because he saw that the ongoing lack of national sovereignty was affecting the Jewish ability to maintain an entirely oral tradition. His innovation changed the nature of Jewish scholarship. The Mishna supplanted the Written Torah as the central text of Jewish legal scholarship. By this time, enough doubt had been introduced into the oral tradition, that much scholarship was aimed at clarifying points of contention.
The center of Jewish scholarship had moved from Israel to Babylon by 219 C.E.. In academies throughout Babylon the Mishna was discussed, and the discussions were recorded. These records were compiled by 475 C.E. and became, together with the Mishna they discussed, the Babylonian Talmud. At the same time, scholars still living throughout Israel went through a similar process that produced the Jerusalem Talmud. Generally speaking, the Babylonian Talmud is more complete, and is considered more authoritative. The Jerusalem Talmud is not generally studied as an independent topic, rather it is used to clarify concepts that appear in the Babylonian Talmud. The Babylonian Talmud is considered the single most important source for Jewish law.
The academies in Babylon continued to be centers for Jewish scholarship till c. 1038 C.E.. During that time, the “Geonim” (Brilliant Ones) corresponded with Jews throughout the known world, clarifying Jewish law in formal responsa.
By 1038, Western Europe had begun to develop as a center for Jewish scholarship. The scholars of this time period are known as “Rishonim” (First Ones). During this period many of the most important commentaries on Scripture and on the Talmud were written. Maimonides wrote the first code of Jewish law, the Mishna Torah, in c. 1150 C.E.. The era of the Rishonim ends with the expulsion of Jews from most of the countries in Western Europe. In 1492 when the Jews left Spain, a four year old boy named Yosef Karo left with his family. Eventually this young boy travelled to Tzfat, where in 1563 C.E. he completed the Shulchan Aruch, the Code of Jewish Law.
By this time, Eastern Europe had begun to develop as a center for Jewish scholarship. Scholars from this era are known as “Achronim” (Later Ones). In 1570 C.E., Rabbi Moses Isserles completed his additions to the Shulchan Aruch. Since that time, the Code of Jewish Law has always been printed with the text of both Rabbi Karo and Rabbi Issereles intermixed into a single text. Jewish legal scholarship since that time has been organized using the chapters and sections of Karo’s Code.

REFERENCE LIST
Dates marked with an asterisk (*) indicate that the reference was originally published before 1900. When an author is indicated, his time and place of death are used instead of publication date. For works with no author, the location and approximate date of completion are given. All dates so marked are based on information from The Jewish Time Line Encyclopedia (Kantor, 1989).

Abrabanel, Y. (1508*). Nachalas Avos. Venice.
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VITA
Binyomin G. Segal received his elementary education at the Providence Hebrew Day School. He graduated high school from the Talmudical Institute of Upstate New York in June of 1983. He travelled to Israel, and began his undergraduate studies at Toras Moshe in Jerusalem. After two years, he returned to the United States, and in July, 1987 he completed his Bachelor of Art degree in Talmudic study at the Hebrew Theological College of Skokie, IL.
He left school and pursued a career in computer programming. In his spare time, he worked extensively in informal education with the National Conference of Synagogue Youth (NCSY). In 1989, he earned a fellowship in Jewish studies from the Milwaukee Kollel. He earned Rabbinical Ordination in July, 1991. He returned to Chicago, where he had earned a further fellowship in Jewish studies from Kollel Toras Chesed.
His fellowship work in adult education, and his work with NCSY, motivated him to begin a career in formal education. He began teaching at the Ida Crown Jewish Academy in 1993. In the summer of 1998,  he returned to school, earning a Master of Education from Loyola University Chicago in January, 2000. He continued at Loyola, earning a Doctorate of Education in January, 2005. During that time, he developed and taught a graduate seminar in Moral Education.
His interests include moral education,  ethnic education, and the relationship between formal and informal education.