An Analysis of the Clashes Between Judaic and Secular Studies in the Jewish Day School
I am not unique. But I am in a very select club, one that has been an endangered species for many years. Specifically, I am an American Orthodox Jewish Male Secular Studies Teacher, recognizable by my prominent yarmulke, BA in English Literature, and MS in Education. My natural habitat is the yeshiva day school, a place where students tend to see me only in late afternoons. Though I am not a seasonal bird, I do tend to head elsewhere for the summer.
Jokes aside, my career has actually been vastly eased by my position as a frum man, willing (actually, eager) to teach secular subjects at yeshivot. I have enjoyed the environment tremendously; it provides me with a fair income (despite the rumors to the contrary), a collegial environment, and absolutely no hassle when it comes to conflicts my colleagues in public schools tend to have with Jewish holidays. All in all, I wouldn’t trade my job.
However, there is a predator to my species. While I am not under attack per se, the subjects under my care are affected tremendously by the activities of my students during their Judaic studies classes. In effect, the presence of a dual curriculum in almost all yeshiva day schools, where students study Torah in the mornings and the remainder of their subjects in the afternoons, often results in a kind of duel curriculum as well. How did this happen? While I am not a historian (or even a history teacher), I do have a healthy interest in the subject, which has led me to this conclusion.
It’s all the Netziv’s fault.
Okay, perhaps that’s too harsh. But Rabbi Naftali Tzvi Yehuda Berlin of the legendary Volozhin yeshiva during its heyday days (from 1854 until its closing), certainly holds a powerful place in the mythos of Jewish education for every principal and menahel. Specifically, I refer to the closing of the yeshiva by its venerable headmaster in 1892, as the government of Russia placed stricter and stricter demands on the establishment and then enlargement of a secular studies program. I recommend Rabbi Jacob Schachter’s article in the Torah U-madda Journal (Winter 1990) on the subject. While there is some debate (morally, not historiographically) whether the Netziv was categorically opposed to secular studies, or whether the Russian demands were designed to eventually prevent any Torah learning (they were) and pervert the nature of the yeshiva (they did). In the former case, scheduling any secular studies at all becomes a concession to the kind of anti-Semitic repression that the Netziv would not tolerate. This can make any rosh yeshiva, faced with the state requirements for schooling, wince at the number of hours dedicated to language arts, math, science, and history. In the latter case, it is not the studies themselves that are the danger, but the government over-interference in our educational system. This allows the studies themselves, within reasonable limits (i.e., keeping a healthy part of the day devoted to the study of Torah).
This example, and the overall cultural impression of the shtetl society being a somehow more “Jewish” way of life that we have sadly lost, seemed to have led many principals and educational leaders into the impression that secular studies are a necessary evil, one that must be prevented at every turn from encroaching upon the values of Torah, which they by definition oppose. (For a number of perspectives on this, see Dr. Haym Soloveitchik’s “Rupture and Reconstruction” in Tradition, vol. 28 no. 4.)
For me, this presents a problem. We are instructed to know the world, to pursue knowledge in all its forms (Genesis 1:28). How can the beauty of Borchi Nafshi’s poetic meditations on nature not call to mind Shakespeare’s Sonnet XVIII (“Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer’s Day”)? Is there really such a conflict?
This topic has many aspects, many implications, and many sides. Over the next few weeks, I will be exploring some of them through my perspective as teacher in a school on the cutting edge of this debate. Hopefully, I can bring a balanced and nuanced view to the questions raised, but I of course welcome the comments of any who feel I am incorrect or ill-informed (as well as those who agree with me).
As you read these articles, I ask only that you remember two things. The first is the rule of “Sometimes.” This means that absolutes never are. “It’s never always” is the best way of expressing this. With the exception of certain biblical commandments, absolutism does not have a place in serious theological, religious, social, or scientific discussion.
The second thing I would like the readers to remain cognizant of is my place within the world that is struggling with these questions. I am in the trenches, I am sitting straddled between these two worlds and watching, on a daily basis, as my students struggle with these conflicts. It may not be pretty, but the hope is that it will produce more thoughtful and more considerate people, something Judaism today sorely needs.
Read the other posts in Moshe’s Education Series:
Part II – No Literature Created Equal
