Raising Jewish Children in a Shaken Diaspora
Not long after October 7, 2023, a man and two teenage boys attempted to enter my son’s high school. They were turned away by security and walked to a nearby plaza where they approached a group of Grade 11 girls and told them: “We are going to bomb your school.”
The three were eventually caught, but the event was deeply rattling.
Shortly afterward, a well-meaning friend asked me: “Why do you send your kids to a Jewish school when they are targets there?” I understood she was coming from a place of concern. Her question is one many others are quietly thinking. Nevertheless, the question reveals a societal weak spot. With both my kids still in Jewish day schools, following shootings at three local synagogues and the attack on Temple Israel in Michigan – stopped only by security guards – I am reminded of that conversation. This is my response.
Let’s start with the obvious: Jewish children in Canadian schools are Canadian. Jewish children in American schools are American. Jewish children in Australian schools are Australian – even when at Jewish schools, camps or events. Jewish kids at Jewish schools are no less Canadian than non-Jewish kids at Tumbler Ridge Secondary. Sending Jewish kids to Jewish schools should be as inconsequential as sending kids to public schools. Attacks on Jewish schools should elicit no less shock, outrage, and horror than attacks on public schools do.
So why do we send them there?
First, why should Jewish kids be deprived of access to their culture and community because of people who hate us? Why should hatred get that victory? Paying private school tuition on top of public-school taxes is a heavy financial burden. This isn’t about privilege or chasing a better education. It’s about community, culture, language and identity, and many Jewish families sacrifice greatly to give their children that.
The argument that putting kids in Jewish schools endangers them is akin to asking a woman who was raped how short her skirt was. Spoiler alert: women in long skirts also get raped. Rapists rape, and terrorists terrorize. A society that prioritizes curating the actions of the victim over confronting the behaviour of the perpetrator is one that authors its own demise.
Second, the Jewish community is keenly aware of our vulnerability. Our schools invest heavily in security: guards, protocols, and training. One of the teens who made the bomb threat against my son’s school was in the same grade as my son at the local public high school – my alma mater, where I met my husband. So, I ask myself a simple question: would I rather my kids be at the school that was vigilant enough to turn away someone who later made a bomb threat, or would I rather my child be sitting in class at a school with no security, next to the kid who made the bomb threat?
Since October 7, Jewish kids have lived with a reality that many other kids simply aren’t. After that war started, a neighbour frequently posted her son’s sweet drawing captioned: “People everywhere just want to live in peace.” I remember thinking how nice it must be to live with that innocence. My daughter didn’t have that luxury. Jewish kids her age knew that there were Jewish children being held hostage in horrific conditions by murderous terrorists. Jewish parents didn’t have the privilege of pretending that wasn’t happening to our kids.
I see it in my work too. One five-year-old student told me about police coming to speak to her class after her school was shot. Another kindergartener was practicing her R sound with me. A cue card had the word “robber”. I asked her if she knew what a robber was. She said, “Yes – someone who steals things”.
Then she quietly added, “and sometimes people.”
In a Jewish school, my kids can just be themselves. They don’t have to wonder whether the kid next to them harbors violent antisemitic views. They don’t have to think about hiding parts of who they are or measuring how openly they express their identity. They can just show up as Jewish kids, in a Jewish space, surrounded by people who understand our history and values and who care about protecting that community. I also know this isn’t something they will have forever. Once they finish school, they will live their lives as part of a tiny minority in a much larger non-Jewish world. This may be the one period of their lives when they can be fully immersed in their own culture and community.
Finally, attacks on Jews are rarely just about Jews. We are often the canary in the coal mine – the first place certain kinds of hatred test themselves. People who direct violent anti-Western ideologies often start with Jews. And as long as our public systems are comfortable entertaining movements that demonize Jews under the banner of antizionism – a hate movement that has unfortunately also penetrated institutions like the Toronto District School Board – the danger does not stop with us. What is being tested on the Jewish community rarely stays here. And this brings me back to something very simple.
Jewish children in Canadian schools are Canadian. Jewish children in American schools are American. Jewish children in Australian schools are Australian.
Whatever nationality you are, speak up fiercely for our children. They are your children too.
