As part of the 37th Israel Film Festival in Los Angeles, I recently watched a film that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about: Eran Riklis’s adaptation of Reading Lolita in Tehran. Set in post-revolutionary Iran, it tells the story of a literature professor who secretly gathers seven students in her living room to read forbidden Western classics. As they remove their hijabs and open their books, they also open their hearts.

As a teacher of language and culture, this film spoke to me deeply. It reminded me that what happens in that private living room is exactly what we strive to do in every classroom. We aren’t just teaching words and grammar; we are opening windows to worlds beyond the familiar and the safe. Language and culture are the most profound tools for building empathy, overcoming ignorance, and fostering a shared human connection. Every language classroom is, in its essence, a space of freedom.

As an educator specializing in teaching Hebrew as a second language, I have come to realize that the most profound learning doesn’t happen when we follow a textbook page by page. This is why Pedagogical Freedom is so vital: it is the professional liberty to follow the heartbeat of our students and the world around us, allowing us to move beyond the technical lesson and build a bridge to another humanity. It is the secret ingredient that turns a difficult language lesson into a life-changing connection, and it is a journey that involves both dedicated teachers and supportive parents.

Take the holiday of Purim as an example. For those who may not know, Purim is one of the most joyful Jewish holidays, celebrated with costumes and gifts, commemorating the salvation of the Jewish people in ancient Persia. Usually, a standard lesson would focus on the history or the cookies. However, because I am not bound by a fixed curriculum, I chose to take my students on a different journey through a single Hebrew word: Leitzan לֵיצָן  (Clown). We explored the world of medical clowns and street clowning, discussing how humor is much more than just laughter. It is a powerful tool for healing, reducing anxiety in hospitals, and even de-escalating violence during tense public protests. I asked my students if they recognize similar roles in their own cultures, creating an exchange where Hebrew became the bridge between their world and mine. We weren’t just practicing grammar; we were discussing empathy and resilience.

Since October 7th, however, Israeli society has been navigating a complex reality, and our celebrations have become more sensitive. As a teacher, I feel a responsibility to bring this shift into the classroom using a model I developed called רמ״ח (RAMACH), an acronym for רואה (Roeh – See), מרגיש (Margish – Feel) , and חושב (Choshev – Think). This name is a play on the traditional Jewish concept of Ramach Eivarim (248 organs), which refers to the “whole body.” In my pedagogy, RAMACH means engaging the whole person, creating a space where emotion is at the core of the lesson.

To further solidify this critical process, and ensure active engagement, we integrate a fourth mandatory step: Questioning. After the students see, feel, and think about the presented content, they are required to formulate at least one meaningful question. This addition drives the deep analysis necessary for true critical thinking, especially in the era of Artificial Intelligence where distinguishing between what is ״real״ and what is ״felt” is vital.

Using this model, I invited my students to look at the tradition of Purim firecrackers through a new lens. We talked about how the loud noises can be deeply painful for those dealing with post-trauma today. We asked ourselves: How can we preserve joy without hurting others? Is tradition more important than compassion? This led to incredible creative projects. Some students designed posters in Hebrew calling for a considerate holiday, while others created TikTok videos to discourage firecrackers or made “silent” noisemakers. They even interviewed family members about their own Purim memories, connecting the past to our sensitive present.

To my fellow teachers: I encourage you to embrace your pedagogical freedom. Dare to step away from the fixed curriculum and bring the real world into your classroom. The RAMACH model (See, Feel, Think, Question) is not just a tool for empathy; it is a critical thinking framework vital for the digital age. When we allow our students to engage deeply with content in a second language, we are giving them the tools to navigate a world where authentic human emotion is our most valuable asset, especially when facing content generated by Artificial Intelligence. Don’t just teach the language; teach the life behind it.

To the parents of language learners: I ask you to value these moments where language meets real life. Fluency is not just about a perfect test score; it is about your child’s ability to use a new language to express empathy and solve real-world problems. When you see your child engaging with these deeper questions, know that they are not just learning Hebrew, they are growing as human beings and building a bridge to a different culture that will last a lifetime.

Now, I invite you to take part in this journey. If you are a teacher, try one “unscripted” lesson this week based on a current event or a shared emotion. If you are a parent, ask your child not what they learned in Hebrew class today, but how a specific Hebrew word made them feel or what it made them think about the world. Let’s move beyond the textbooks and start building bridges together.

Share in the comments: What “unscripted lesson” did you try this week?

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)