Shabbat Sing

There are many reasons why Shabbat Sing is what it is - an FJECC tradition that has evolved and sustained itself for 28 years. As the Purple and Red Rooms gathered together with their grown-ups one morning in the Levi Auditorium, I was struck by a rather simple and eloquent image: Cantor Alicia led the group in a song and she invited everyone to think of something that made them feel happy. One child decided her expression was going to be in the form of a dance. She left her mother's lap, walked to the center of the gathering and waited for Cantor Alicia to play her guitar. And as she danced, many of the other children joined her. It was not a raucous jump-all-over-the-place kind of dance but a more thoughtful, expressive group movement. And it was purely joyful and sweet. I could not help but think to myself: this is why we gather. We, the FJECC staff, witness countless moments of grace and joy throughout a day with your children. As do you, outside of school. What we don't get to do is witness these moments together. When children play together they are messy and unpredictable and chaotic. And they are also authentic and spontaneous and without inhibition. The grace in the room that morning at Shabbat Sing was being together, witnessing children being children in the most simple and sincere state. 

Shabbat Shalom, 

Amy

Havdalah

Each Friday in school, we share with children the ritual of Shabbat. We mark the approaching arrival of this special time (sundown on Friday) by lighting candles, having a sip of sweet wine or juice, and tasting the traditional braided egg bread, challah. Just as we mark the beginning of Shabbat, we have a ritual for marking the end of this time as well. At sundown on Saturday (officially, when 3 stars have appeared in the sky), we observe Havdalah. Once again, we light a candle – a braided one, just like the Shabbat challah – we pour wine, and we gather in the scent of spices – b’samim – a full sensory experience to help us remember the sweet essence of our Shabbat as we prepare to enter a new week.

Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel wrote about Shabbat as, “a realm of time where the goal is not to have but to be, not to own but to give, not to control but to share, not to subdue but to be in accord.” When I first read this I thought, well yes but shouldn’t we always be striving to be less materialistic, to be kinder to and more generous with each other, to be collaborative? Why is it only on Shabbat that this becomes the goal? I believe the answer lies in how and why we have this differentiated time called Shabbat. Heschel also wrote, “God is not in things of space, but in moments of time.” Even though we strive every day to be the best person we can be, we are living our daily lives and perfection is not reasonable when you have to get to work, have to meet with and deal with many different kinds of people, tasks, challenges, etc. Shabbat, then, is when we leave the world of space behind and enter a time created for us – for the purpose of being, for a focus on giving (and receiving!), a time to include and to be content with the people or the things around us.

Havdalah means to separate. We can’t take full advantage of Shabbat if we don’t attend to the close of it with the same attention to detail as we do the beginning. In the world of early childhood education, we use rituals to offer temporal structure to the classroom environment. Morning meeting, circle time, 5 minute reminders before an upcoming transition, the songs we sing and even the words we use, are intentional and deliberate and – hopefully – all work to provide meaning and structure to classroom life for children. And they create space and time for the real work of learning. And when we use the rituals and rhythms of Jewish life, it offers a way to mark time for children in a natural and authentic way. Rather that say we know it is the beginning of the week because it is Monday, we “close” the weekend and “open” the week with Havdalah. Just as we close the week with the start of Shabbat. There are so many other remarkable ways in which the Jewish calendar supports "learning" about time and space and how we use the natural rhythms of life to bring meaning to the world - for children and for us. But that's for another Friday musing. 

Let it snow!
Shabbat Shalom,
Amy

100 Days

Happy 100 Days of School! 

Last Friday there was a festive air in the classrooms and hallways. That was in part because of the 100th day of school festivities, in part because of the warmer weather (as of that morning - now the chill has descended again) and likely because it was the Friday before vacation week. It felt like quite the accomplishment to have made it to this point in the school year – for all of us. 

We are past the halfway mark in the school year. We have weathered Covid surges, the shifts and pivots that Covid has created in our personal lives, our work lives and the lives of school children. We have weathered actual weather - snow, rain, wind, ice. Allow me a moment to be thankful for everything that has brought us to this moment and to be thankful for the strength and grace of our community. 

I am so proud of our staff who continue to bring their best selves to work every day in the face of much uncertainty and change. 

I am proud of the children who bring their joy and curiosity to school every day. 

I am proud of the families, who continue to manage work and home and protocols and swabbing noses. 

As we move into the next 80(ish) days of school, there will be ways in which we begin to shift again - hopefully in a direction that brings parents closer into the daily life of the school and that are comfortable for all. After this vacation week, you will be receiving a survey, the intention of which is to assess the community's comfort level with our restrictions and protocols. Your feedback is important to the process of finding the right balance between safety and comfort. Look for the survey in my next Friday email on March 4th. 

And look for upcoming information on a whole lot of Purim activities! Purim Palooza 2022 will be a hoot (that was a hint!). 

Shabbat Shalom, 
Amy

Sand, String and Wood

A box of sand, a piece of string and a few wooden figures. These unassuming objects are the tools Morah Iryna uses to enthrall children (and adults) with a form of story telling called Torah Godly Play.  

"Drawing upon the sacred stories of the Bible, Godly Play invites children into the entrancement of the narrative while leaving room for wonder, creativity, and imagination as they build their own spiritual search and discover a Divine presence in their lives. Torah Godly Play is an adapted, innovative approach to religious education that seeks not so much to tell stories of faith in order that we will “know” them, but as a means to invite exploration, wondering, and meaning-making through encounter with the text." (Rabbi Michael Shire, Torah Godly Play)

Torah Godly Play is a method of storytelling that explicitly invites children to enter the story with their own curiosity driving the interaction. As the narrator, or "doorkeeper," of the story, Morah Iryna uses a quiet voice and slow, deliberate movements to act out a story as children listen. You will often see them actually leaning in towards her box of sand as the story unfolds. I recently sat in as Morah Iryna told the story of Avram and Sarai, whom God eventually renames Abraham and Sarah and bequeaths upon them "a multitude of nations." 

Our expectation in retelling stories from the Bible is not just that our children may learn about religion. Rather, this form of storytelling is a way to engage with children in a spiritual context. Children don't need to learn to be spiritual beings. They are, in their own way, deeply spiritual. Our job is to invite them to open themselves outward and bring their spiritual selves to us and those around them. Storytelling is a venue for connecting: connecting our inner world to what is happening around us, connecting to others, even coming to understand something about ourselves in new ways. 

Morah Iryna captivates the children with a story that may not seem to have much relevance for them, but in the telling of the story she creates a wondrous experience in which they enter a world of change, of hardship and recovery, of miracles and unexpected joy. There is a lot to learn from all that. 

Shabbat Shalom, 
Amy 

Mitzvah Moments

Sometimes remarkable moments are mitzvah moments. The Green Room, following on the heels of their Pizza, Pasta, Soup exploration, collected donations for a food drive. This tzedakah project has some wonderful aspects to it, not the least of which is how the children have been inspired by one of the books they read, Mitzvah Pizza by Sarah Lynn Scheerger, and used that inspiration to help track the incoming donations. In the photo below you can see a Green Room friend placing a sticky note on the wall outside their classroom. Curious about what those notes were about, I stuck around (pun intended) to find out. There are many of these notes, each with a small drawing or stamp or simply a letter. The teacher who was with the children asked them to tell me about the notes. And they did. In the book, based on a true story out of Philadelphia, a young girl visits a pizza shop with her father and notices a wall of notes. Each note represents a person who purchased a piece of pizza for someone else. In a parallel process, each note outside the Green Room represents another donation to the food drive. As donations come in, and the bulletin board gets populated with more notes, the children have a tangible representation of the work they and they families are doing. The documentation of this particular project is not just learning made visible, it is charitable work made visible for each child and for the classroom community together. Thank you to all families who donated to the Green Room Food Drive!

Shabbat Shalom,
Amy

Forward Together

It seems like our Fall Socials were more than two weeks ago, but the experience remains fresh in my heart—especially the warm and welcome feeling of being with others, enjoying the glow from the outdoor fires and heaters. I hope this feeling still warms those of you who were able to attend.

At each gathering, I spoke about what makes FJECC a special place and why I am honored to be leading the school. I had prepared a few words before joining the Blue Room parents for the first Fall Social of the school year. Before I stood to say those words, a very prescient parent asked me why I was drawn to this particular age group; why early childhood education? The answer to that question was the essence of the words I’d prepared to say. In addition, someone had recently asked me how I remain optimistic amid such challenging times and challenging work.

The short answer – to both questions – is that working with young children inspires me and gives me hope – that is where my optimism is rooted. There is a deeper answer, as well. I chose to work with the youngest children because I know that I can have the greatest impact on this age group, and that impact is not on the children alone. I work with young children because I can also work with families. The first years a family comes together is a moment in time when the past meets the future and being in the present moment with parents as they work to shape that future is remarkably joyous and rewarding.

People have many different reasons for starting a family. Some people think and plan for years and come to parenthood full of desire to heal something in their past, or with the intention to replicate the joy and traditions of their own families. Whatever the reason, starting a family – becoming a parent – is a giant leap of faith. You each bring your own past, traditions, rituals, to parenthood, and many of you also bring hopes and dreams and plans. At FJECC, we all feel honored that you have chosen our school as part of that leap of faith. Side by side, we go forward together.

Warmly, 
Amy

Little Leaf...Big Leaf...Tiny Rock

As I sat on the edge of the sandbox this morning, a toddler handed me a leaf. “Little leaf. For you,” he said. He then found a big leaf and offered that to me: “You have big leaf.” And then I received a little tiny rock (which is now on my desk). Next to us, another friend was digging through the sand with a truck while carefully and quietly observing our conversation. He may not have been willing to talk to me, but he was so clearly taking in all that was going on. Around us, the rest of the toddlers and their teachers were exploring the playground. Gentle notes came from the musical instruments, laughter could be heard as crab apples were tossed and squished, and, of course, we heard lots of traffic noises coming from the Riverway just beyond the fence. There was much to appreciate in this moment:

• The weather was stellar as only a New England early-autumn day can be. Crisp, cool, clear, blue sky, bright sun.

• Every toddler except one was comfortably masked – a remarkable achievement one month into the school year.

• No one was crying!

• Each child was engaged with something or someone. They played on their own, with a friend or with an adult.

These pockets of time are remarkable moments that are deceptively simple and carefree. They happen in carefully curated environments that are primed for exploration and investigation. Teachers intentionally set-up spaces that will be engaging AND challenging. Most importantly, though the space is structured and carefully planned out, the time is not. Open-ended play is sacred time in a classroom community: we have many transitions throughout the day, and it is tempting to let the schedule dictate the way we manage our time, but there must be – without fail – uninterrupted play. This is where the deeper learning happens. This time is also a bedrock for children building relationships, with peers and with the adults who care for them.

I have the good fortune to witness remarkable moments like this multiple times each day. I am excited to share them with you and to discover over the coming weeks and months more ways to give you access to them. In a world with severely limited parent access to classrooms, I understand the hunger for information about your child's day. Any way in which I - and the teachers - can create windows for you will be eye-opening and, I hope, bring comfort and relief. In the meantime, when you realize your child is happily engaged in something at home, take a quiet minute and observe the moment you've curated. 

Shabbat Shalom, 
Amy