A couple of weeks ago, a teacher from a different city that I used to live in called. She was asked to address a group of younger teachers about how to teach students who made aliya, and wanted my thoughts on that.

Oh, boy, did I have thoughts to share!

The first thing I told her was to have her audience imagine being new in a group that didn’t speak their language, not understanding anything going on. How would that feel for them, mature adults with a stable sense of themselves?

Then I talked about it being an act of courage for these kids to come to school every day, and appreciating the challenge they face. They don’t need someone to tell them to try harder (not even ‘encouragement’ – “I know you can do it if you just try harder!”) and they certainly don’t need criticism for not doing better than they are. They need to feel safe and accepted, and be allowed to have their personal timeline of adjusting.

I gave her specific examples of things my children were told or experienced because teachers/tutors didn’t understand their perspective. Among others: 1) a teacher complaining to me about my son leaving his seat to copy from the board and telling me that was disruptive – I explained that as someone new to reading Hebrew, he couldn’t read what it said from his seat in the back and moved to where he could see enough to do what was asked of him. 2) A tutor telling me my daughter was lazy and uncooperative when the school’s Hebrew speaking tutor was teaching her advanced vocabulary words before my daughter even had basic Hebrew words – she couldn’t participate because she had no clue what she was being told. Do you think the negative emotions they had towards the student due to their mistaken perspective came through to the child?

I told her that the main focus shouldn’t be on getting a child to learn something, but rather setting the stage for success in learning. That means showing him genuine warmth, kindness and appreciation so that he will feel safe. A person will struggle to learn when he feels unsafe. And pushing a person beyond his emotional safety level can backfire, as a child may close up into himself or act out as a result. (This is true and relevant of all children, not only those making aliyah.)

The morning after I had this conversation, I went to the home of a new choir member. She had just joined and I saw she was uncomfortable not knowing what was going on, so I offered to teach her the songs up to the point we were at. This lovely woman shared that she moved to Israel when she was nine, and described to me the extreme difficulty she experienced, the struggle to read and speak Hebrew (she spoke French and Arabic), the social ostracization she experienced, perceiving herself as completely incompetent and unsuccessful in every way. As I listened to her, I could see how painful a memory it was for her, even now as a successful woman close to 50 years old.

I told her about my conversation the night before, and she emphatically agreed with everything I had said about the importance of a child feeling emotionally safe and understood, of recognizing the challenge he/she is facing and appreciating the courage it takes to face each new day.

Now, obviously not every child will respond the same way. But regardless of personality, a bit of understanding and appreciation of a child goes a long way.

Avivah