When people ask me why I teach middle school at synagogue, the pedagogue within me says things about the foundation of Jewish learning. All the while images of my own childhood experiences of Jewish education play back in my mind.
We ran through the halls at break time, played dodge ball in the temple social hall. We knew every hiding place in the synagogue. Three afternoons a week, plus Saturday or Sunday, the synagogue was transformed into a Brueghel painting. There were kids everywhere.
I truly believe that my Hebrew would be much better today if I had paid attention during class instead of watching my classmate shoot elastics from his orthodontic mouth at unmentionable parts of Mrs. Sugarman’s body.
In my synagogue, Temple Emanuel of Worcester, Mass., our classes attended Shabbat services every week. The assistant rabbi was Rabbi Alexander Schindler, well known for fiery and relevant sermons. But as a seventh- and eighth-grader I remember only the uncontrollable giggling.
Now I plan lessons for three classes of seventh- and eighth-graders. I stress over how they will learn in the short time we spend together. All the while, I know that the student’s desire to have fun and hang out is a repellent shield against my teaching goals.
I pray that as a teacher I may have just a fraction of the grace that allowed Sugarman to ignore the attack of elastics and that I always remember what fun I had as a student.