Turning the key to a world of Jewish expression

During the summer break, after the December bustle was over, I turned my mind to an activity many teachers undertake during this time – cleaning. This meant sorting through stacks of boxes of my teaching materials, and cards of appreciation from my students from over the years.

This was a particularly long process because I felt the need to read through each one – a reminder of every student who has been in my care and a curiosity about what they are doing now.

Amongst these cards, I found one from a former VCE Yiddish student that read, “Thank you for teaching me a language, a culture… and for providing me with an opportunity to learn so many things that will stick with me for my entire life. Your passion and patience have allowed me to develop such a strong love for Yiddish, which will forever be tif farflantst in mayn harts (planted deeply in my heart).”

In the case of this former student, I don’t have to wonder about where she is and what she is doing. She remains heavily involved in community organisations that centre on Yiddish. Despite what she wrote in her card, I don’t believe it was my teaching that made this impact on her. Rather, it was the rich treasure trove that is the Yiddish language.

When I was first studying a Bachelor of Arts/Education, one of our tutors instructed us to turn to the person next to us and justify why learning our particular subject area was important. He warned us this would be a crucial part of our future work. Over the years, as a Yiddish teacher I have often thought back on this exercise. How do I articulate everything to be gained from learning and engaging with Yiddish language and culture?

Of course, language learning in general holds many benefits for young learners. Extensive research has shown this to be true. Language learning as a child can have a positive impact on the development of skills involved in learning and on the development of literacy skills. It can also hold many benefits for language learning in general.

Learning languages can influence the way in which individuals build connections between languages and learn other languages (and we see this on display every day at Sholem Aleichem College, where students learn Yiddish and Hebrew, as well as English).

The gift of expression, too, cannot be underrated. It is perhaps among the most important lessons we can impart on children. Especially in today’s ever-changing world, the gift of Jewish expression and literacy is precious.

The challenge of the task given to us by our university tutor was particularly tricky for me because I have never known life without Yiddish. I was fortunate to be raised in a Yiddish-speaking household and my parents ensured I had a Yiddish education at Sholem Aleichem College. This allowed me to engage in a broader Yiddish-speaking community, with peers who were also deeply rooted in Yiddish language and culture.

For me, Yiddish is simultaneously the feeling of my community, of Jewish identity, but also of expression, strength, empathy and joy. Yes, it is the sound of my grandparents speaking with me, but it is also the sound of my home, of community members in deep debate, of children at play, and of communal singing. In short, it sits at the very heart of who I am and how I see the world.

Often, when I meet with individuals who have come to Yiddish later in life, they talk about discovering something that was previously lost to them. Much of my professional career has been spent working with children who will never know this feeling of not having had access to a key part of their heritage. They have been enriched by their immersion in a language and culture that describe the diversity and complexity of Jewish experiences with tenderness, colour and life.

One of my former students recently told me, “There are many ways to connect with Judaism, but I guess for me, Yiddish was the way into connecting with my Jewish identity. It was also a way to connect with Jewish people and Jewish organisations”.

Indeed, his feeling of Yiddish being a tool for connection with his community is the same feeling that sees many young Yiddish speakers so fully engaged with their broader community as they grow into young community leaders. This broader community spans across the globe, and though I often meet with Yiddish speakers in other countries who may have different perspectives, experiences and ways of life, we all have one central thing in common – we understand the unique magic of Yiddish.

Another of my former students pointed to this magic when she told me, “I think [Yiddish] really deepens your understanding of Jewish culture. I think there are things that you just wouldn’t be able to access if you weren’t able to read or understand Yiddish”.

Yiddish is a key to a world of Jewish expression, not as a past construct, but as a link between past, present and future. There is rich literature, folklore, proverbs and cultural understandings that are woven into the fabric of Yiddish. Being immersed in approximately 1000 years of Jewish life is a gift that can help inform your view of the world in the present day. It is this connectedness to real life experience that allows individuals to share their favourite parts of a Sholem Aleichem story, then also tell me who their favourite football player is, entirely in Yiddish.

Yiddish singer Adrienne Cooper once said in an interview for the Wexler Oral History Project at the Yiddish Book Center, “What I’d like future generations to know is that this culture belongs to them”. 

Years on from my university days, now as Principal of Sholem Aleichem College, I think about Cooper’s words often. Jewish children should be empowered to access this part of their cultural heritage, and to experience the meaning and feeling that Yiddish language embodies. They should be empowered to do so because the Yiddish language is THEIRS. It is their yerushe (inheritance). I am proud that at Sholem Aleichem College, this profound educational and cultural experience is waiting for them.