Who Should Control Torah Education?
How Jewish institutions struggle to serve complex and diverse communities
As I expect you all know, there's an ongoing and heated debate about who should control what's taught in schools. Broadly speaking, in the public sphere at least, there are four identifiable parties to this debate:
Funding and legislative bodies
Teachers' unions
Individual teachers
Parents
Once upon a time it was widely assumed that governments and "educational experts" deserved full authority over curriculum and administration decisions. And, in any case, most parents were confident that the kids' classrooms provided reasonable extensions of the values and expectations found at home.
When I was growing up in the 60s and early 70s, noticeable cracks appeared within the educational establishment. The experts themselves regularly pushed for significant shifts in teaching models and paradigms, often in sharp conflict with previous standards or even with each other. Parents, who as a group were far more educated than in any previous generation, began to see themselves as experts with their own opinions.
The remote learning sparked by the recent pandemic turbo-charged some of those changes. Many parents, having for the first time a direct view of how and what their children were being taught, were appalled by what they saw. It seems that many public school teachers now see their primary role as political propagandists rather than transmitters of knowledge and skills.
This isn't just a problem in the US. I've kept a casual eye on events in the public system in my own Toronto. After all, while I may not send my own kids or grandkids, my taxes fund the system. Let's just say that there's a noticeable disconnect between basic common sense and any kind of moral code on the one hand, and the official curriculum guidelines required by the Toronto District School Board on the other.
Debate over curriculum in the chinuch world, thankfully, has a much healthier range. But formulating an answer to our "who should control Torah education" question will depend on what you mean by "education." Let's look at some alternative models.
The Kehila Model
The gemara in Bava Basra (21a) tells us how:
"…If it wasn't for Yehoshua ben Gamla, the Torah would have been forgotten from Israel. Originally, one who had a father, (his father) would teach him. (However) someone without a father wouldn't learn Torah...They established that they should hire teachers in Jerusalem...But still, one with a father, (his father) would send him to Jerusalem where he would be taught. One without a father would have no one to send him to learn. They (therefore) established that they should hire (teachers) in every region and gather boys of 15 and 16. (But) a boy might rebel against his rebbi's anger and leave. Until Yehoshua ben Gamla came and established that they should hire teachers of children in every country and in every city where they would gather children (from ages) six and seven.
It seems that teaching boys Torah is the primary responsibility of the father. But when that's not possible, the community is expected to step in and build schools. Who is "the community"? Based on what I wrote in my "Who Makes Decisions for a Jewish Community" article I suppose, technically, it's Jews who pay taxes to the kehila. Although, as I note over there, there are exceptions.
Since, for the most part, we have neither formal kehilos nor binding communal taxes, that definition won't work for us. But where it did, one could argue that the elected kehila council and the senior rabbis that the council hired would have the power to decide what goes on in their schools.
I imagine that individual families would have the right to complain to the council, but an unresolved conflict could only lead to change through the mechanism of new council elections. And, in all cases, change wouldn't happen unless a significant proportion of the population clearly shared the new vision.
The "Yeshiva-As-Business" Model
In some larger communities, Torah schools are built and run as private businesses. This is not to suggest that their students are cruelly exploited to feed rapacious profits. On the contrary, some private schools are both efficient and exceptionally well run. But the for-profit model is, apparently, the best way to attract sufficiently motivated wealthy founders.
Where such variety and choice exists, no one is forced to send their kids to any one school in particular. So signing up for an institution implies a commitment to accept its standards. You're always welcome to offer suggestions for improvement, but the owners are equally welcome to ignore them.
The Non-Profit Board Model
Schools in smaller communities tend to be run by individuals who, seeing an unmet need, consciously devote themselves to difficult and time-consuming volunteer work. Often, it’s not wealth that drives such personal effort, but a sense of responsibility.
Ultimate authority over educational decisions in such schools is often placed in the hands of a rabbinic board. When and how often the administrators of such schools will actually consult that board will vary widely from school to school and from issue to issue.
Change is certainly possible, but it requires one of two forms:
Evolving demographics. Or, in other words, an administration is more likely to give you their attention once enough families make it clear they’re considering moving their children elsewhere.
Organized parents. Parents who find ways to speak among themselves might discover that they share common concerns.
The Israeli Government Model
As far as I know, nearly all school-aged programs in Israel are, to one degree or another, funded by the government. To me that suggests that debates over curriculum policies must take government priorities into account as much as they do anywhere else in the world. It’s unreasonable to expect someone to contribute millions of dollars without expecting some level of oversight.
Finding a balance between popular, institutional, and government preferences won’t be easy. But it’ll be impossible if all parties don’t at least recognize each other’s standing.
I remember hearing how one North American talmid chochom expressed relief when a government proposal to fund private religious schools failed to become law. “Once you take their money,” this rabbi explained, “you’re no longer in charge of what you teach.”
At root, it’s mostly about practical logistics. Individuals have preferences - even deeply held preferences - but change requires influence. And influence is a product of one form or another of authority. This isn’t necessarily wrong or corrupt: it’s just the way large and diverse social groups try get along together.
Let me share a story that I believe illustrates just how many forms “authority” can take. Years ago, I worked with a young and, by all accounts, successful high school math teacher. One year, the math curriculum he was required to use was completely overhauled by bureaucrats at the Ministry of Education.
Without saying it in so many words, the teacher made it clear that he felt the bureaucrats had no clue what they were doing and that their new curriculum was wasteful and destructive. But ignoring the new rules wasn’t an option.
So, with a twinkle in his eyes, he explained how he would download the new guideline documents from the Ministry website, sign the pages that needed signing, upload the signed copies to the appropriate address, place a pile of nice, newly revised text books on a table at the back, close the classroom door…and teach whatever he wanted to teach.
Some things just happen. And, often, that’s a good thing.
But leaving aside the practical questions of power and access, in an ideal world, who should make educational decisions for our children? Or, to frame the question a bit differently, who is likely to be the best qualified?
My next post will try to address that question.
What is the next post?