What we want for our children
We are so fortunate in Australia to have a choice of excellent private Jewish Day Schools where Jewish education and secular education is privileged and put front and centre.
MY four siblings and I were born in a small goldmining town in what was then the Orange Free State, Welkom – a dry, dusty and flat place that became a thriving town when gold was discovered there in the 1940s.
Growing up, Welkom was safe, provincial and unsophisticated. My siblings and I would spend our days racing our bicycles around the dry, dusty streets, shooting cap guns in our capacious garden with our friends (indignantly crying when we were shot), visiting the Drive-In to watch the latest flick and buying Bata tackies at the OK Bazaar.
My mother would shop at Elite Fashions and on a Friday afternoon we would pile into our Chrysler Valiant and go to the local airstrip where we would eagerly await the Comair plane from Johannesburg, that brought our reels of film, to be played on our 16mm projector with cinemascope lens.
We, the children, attended the one and only private school in Welkom, St Andrews, where I was an angel in the school nativity play. I remember clearly my costume; a beautiful baby blue dress and the fluffy halo.
I wore bright red lipstick. Father Brown, the principal, was the epitome of a gentleman and generously opened his school to the few Jews in Welkom. But my parents had no choice. There was no Jewish Day School in Welkom.
As soon as my brothers turned 12 they were sent to The Hostel, Kind David’s boarding school in Johannesburg. As soon as my sister turned 12 (my father’s favourite), we left Welkom. (Finally, the five of us had our hypothesis confirmed; the best thing to come out of Welkom was … the road to Johannesburg).
Every morning at St Andrews we respectfully and dutifully knelt during prayers, and sang “Morning has broken, like the first morning”, “Our father who art in heaven” and when Christmas came, Silent Night – in German. They are beautiful, and I can’t help but sing along when I hear them.
Of course, I still remember the words to each one of them as I remember the story of Jesus well (and the role of the angels). This is because they were taught to me in my formative years; in the years that children lay their spiritual, emotional, social and cognitive foundations. These foundations, it has been proven, have a direct effect on their overall development and on the adult they will become.
It really is axiomatic and self-evident; the early years are crucial for the development of secure emotional attachments and the skills that help children succeed in life. Promoting and developing these skills along with strengthening families and ties to community (and developing a sense of belonging) are important ways to improve long term outcomes for children.
That is why understanding the need to invest in very young children is so important. It will maximise their future well-being.
When it came my turn to choose a school for my children, I realised that I would prefer my children coming home singing Shabbat songs, participating in Pesach Seders and dressing up on Purim and not on Easter.
I wanted my children to be Moses or Esther in the school concert and not an angel in the end of year Christmas celebration. I wanted my children to hear about Abraham’s generosity, Moses’ humility, Esther’s bravery and King David’s courage.
I did not want them hearing about Jesus, Christmas and mass. (I would definitely want them to learn this – but when they were older – and through the Jewish lens)
I do not mind at all the ignorance of the larger community about Judaism. When my children were younger, and shopkeepers wished them Merry Christmas, we would politely smile and wish them one in return. When we were told we were the first Jews they’d met, we would smile (and hopefully give them a good impression.)
But, my children should not grow up ignorant of their religion. They need to learn our rituals, be fluent in our practices and knowledgeable about our values. If they then ever choose to ‘leave’ Judaism, it will not be because they can’t participate, and they will always have strong foundations to return to.
As an adult, looking back, I am in awe of my parents who, even though they became enthusiastic and stalwart members of the Anglican school community (my mother, the treasurer, my father, a founding member), they never capitulated and did not allow us to celebrate Christmas. It must have taken a great deal of effort and commitment to ignore the pleas of five children whose friends were all receiving gifts.
So, if my parents, marooned in an authoritarian, conservative Christian town, could instill in us from the start, that we were part of something special; a community that has values and traditions to uphold that were more important than our own childish whims and fancies, surely, I couldn’t be so insouciant and careless with my choice of school for my children. How could I throw away the one opportunity to instill in them a deep understanding of who they are and where they come from?
“Deep roots are not reached by the frost” (J. R. R. Tolkien). We only have one shot with our children’s education, and surely, we must be assiduously wise and meticulously careful with the choice.
So my question is, why choose a school for your children where you will be included and tolerated (both seemingly patronising to me) rather than a school that is purpose built for them?
We are so fortunate in Australia to have a choice of excellent private Jewish Day Schools where Jewish education and secular education is privileged and put front and centre.
Why not be so grateful that you can give your children both?
TRACEY SCHREIER is an educator and parent.
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