In a recent blog post by Chavie Kahn, To Thrive, Day Schools Need to Make Parents Feel Heard, the case was made for greater engagement of parents in day schools through the solicitation of regular feedback. The argument was a sound one. When parents say great stuff about our schools their friends listen. The best kind of marketing is grassroots; the best kind of marketing is word of mouth.

And this is really true. For a while now the for-profit world has understood that long-term satisfaction is best measured through an individual’s willingness to stand by a brand. In a 2003 Harvard Business Review article, The One Number You Need to Grow, Fredrick Reichheld explained that “…the percentage of customers who were enthusiastic enough to refer a friend or colleague – perhaps the strongest sign of customer loyalty – correlated directly with differences in growth rates among competitors … evangelistic customer loyalty is clearly one of the most important drivers of growth. While it doesn’t guarantee growth, in general, profitable growth can’t be achieved without it.”

One strategy Kahn suggests to build that kind of loyalty is to solicit regular feedback through surveys. The more we ask the parents of our students how things are going, the more parents will buy in to the program and consequently evangelize the program to their friends.

Then comes what is likely the most important point of the article and one easily missed as Kahn doesn’t expand on it. He warns against inaction and the dangers of soliciting feedback irresponsibly. “Parents are too often told that their concerns will be addressed, even if there is no plan to address them in a meaningful way.” While soliciting feedback demonstrates that a school values its students and their families considering them partners in the learning process, if that feedback is not followed up with it can have the opposite effect.

The reason to engage parents in our schools is because that’s how we make better schools. When we take parent feedback seriously, we position our schools to offer better experiences for our students. When we listen to what the parents of our students think about their children’s experiences, whether that has to do with the learning in the classroom, or the culture of the schoolyard, we’re afforded a new lens through which to evaluate how we’re doing. Parents hear and see things we educators and administrators often miss.

That’s why parent involvement has long been understood as the secret sauce or x-factor distinguishing the good schools from great. It’s not the only ingredient but it’s a critical one. If our schools engage parents and families in the planning and learning process, if we foster cultures of open communication and regular dialogue with parents, our schools will be more exciting and dynamic centers of learning. The trick is not to make parents feel heard, it’s to hear parents.

Rabbi Joshua Fenton is Associate Director of Jewish LearningWorks.

I never cease to be amazed by the seemingly endless opportunities we have to put our feet in our mouths. Over 2,000 years ago, the sage Shammai cautioned, “… say little, do much and greet everyone with a happy face.” Those words are as true today as they were then, perhaps even more so.

Because the Jewish people may view themselves as one big family, we may cross the line into a familiarity that can be hurtful, often because of a carelessly uttered remark. I was reminded of this just the other day when I was speaking with a neighbor. We were talking about our children and, knowing he had only one, I chided him as I’ve done a number of times. “It’s about time for one more, no?” It was at that moment that his wife, who was gardening near us, got up abruptly and went inside.

I thought nothing of it until I looked up to see my neighbor’s face. “Listen, man” he said. “Please don’t joke about that anymore. We’ve suffered two miscarriages this last year and it’s been really tough.”

Open mouth. Insert foot.

With the best of intentions, I managed to cross the line from being friendly to being insensitive and hurtful, without even trying. Why did I think it was appropriate to say what I did? Why is it considered OK to even inquire about another couple’s family planning process? Was my neighbor the first person who had to endure my well-meaning pokes and chides, forcing him to make light of a terribly personal and painful experience? Almost certainly not, but he will be the last.

In our communities, our schools, parks and synagogues, there are couples struggling to achieve the families they’ve dreamed of. According to the Centers for Disease Control, a growing number of couples, more than 15 percent, struggle with infertility. They are our friends, our neighbors and us, and it’s time we decided to be a lot more considerate and a lot less stupid and clumsy about how we try to express support and encouragement to couples who want children.

Of course, when we ask, we mean well. The question “When will you have children?” may be an expression of confidence and support: “I think you are great and would make a wonderful parent. I think you’ll raise wonderful children, and I think our community and world would be better off if you did.” This is often the intention behind the question. But it’s heard differently.

“When will you have children?” can just as easily be heard as: “When will you become full members of our community? When will you realize your full potential? What’s wrong with you anyway?”

The Talmud in Tractate Sukkah reminds us, “If regarding matters that are normally performed publicly, the Torah commands us ‘to walk modestly,’ how much more so in matters that are usually performed in private.”

In a conversation, we may be circumspect about bringing up work for fear someone is about to be laid off, and we may shy away from asking about school or that last test because we don’t want to put someone on the spot or cause discomfort. Think about how much more cautious we should be about inserting ourselves into the areas of people’s lives that are deeply private and personal.

So the next time you’re about to open your mouth and insert your foot, think again.


Rabbi Joshua Fenton is the associate director of Jewish LearningWorks.

7 Lessons on Family Engagement

For the last three years, we at Jewish LearningWorkshave taken a close look at families with young children in the Bay Area. What we’ve seen are a growing number of families looking for opportunities to connect to Judaism and Jewish community, but in non-traditional ways.

This might not sound like news. The Jewish community has been hearing for years about the emergence of alternative, non-traditional, post-denominational Jewish communities and congregations. What’s news is who these alternatives are attracting; simply put, everyone. Even though traditional institutions (shuls, day schools, JCC’s, and so on) strive to remain interesting and attractive to families, the trend is clear. People are connecting in entirely new ways and we need to understand what motivates 21st century families if we hope, as a community, to remain relevant to them.

Recognizing this change in the way families engage with and connect to community, we began asking ourselves, “how can we support these families in the creation of Jewish lives that work for them?” Initially our work focused on two new initiatives, Shalom Explorers – an alternative parent-led learning program for young children, and Kesher – a community concierge and outreach program. As part of these two initiatives, we spent time speaking with parents, professionals, and community leaders. We surveyed the field of Jewish family engagement and education initiatives nationally, and in the process learned some valuable lessons about how 21st century families think and feel about Judaism, and how our communities can be a lot more effective at reaching them and playing more meaningful roles in their lives.

Lesson 1
Program for real people. We are professional educators, rabbis, and academics, and the truth is, when you get us around a table we seem to know just about everything. Don’t believe it. We continue to find that the best informants and partners in program creation are the end users, and we apply that to all of our work. That means before you create any program or class, first speak with potential program participants to make sure that what you’re designing is what people are looking for.

And then go back to those very same people and talk to them some more. Engage them in the creative process and through them, your programs will grow stronger and more relevant. Never stop asking yourself and your students/families/customers, “Is this really meeting your needs and wants, and how can we do better?”

Last year we piloted an at-home learning program for children, designed to be taught by parents. Our pilot groups were active participants in the evaluation process and after the three-month pilot, their feedback allowed us to make significant tweaks, which are now resulting in a much stronger, more resonant, and more meaningful program. We were able to do this because we listened.

Lesson 2
The affiliated/unaffiliated dichotomy is unhelpful at best. Synagogue membership is not the single most important marker of connectivity, and a donation to Federation might say more about your age than it does your Jewishness. Synagogue membership is also no longer the only reasonable option for families who wish to create Jewish lives or connect with community. Think of the growing number of educational organizations offering content to families outside of an institution. Take Godcast, Hazon, InterfaithFamily, and Kveller; these organizations are all becoming hubs of activity from which new kinds of Jewish communities are emerging.

As the number of alternative engagement opportunities and ways to connect grow, opting out of traditional modes of affiliation tells us less and less. Nowadays, opting out of synagogue life might simply mean you want something deeper and more meaningful than a one size fits all shul. As we try to better understand families in our communities, we need to revise the assumptions we make about synagogue membership, and what it implies about families who do and don’t join. In a DIY world, people are looking for experiences that uniquely speak to their specific interests and they’re more likely than ever to build something new for themselves rather than settling.

Lesson 3
To build on the previous point, membership is an old model. More and more people are limiting their memberships to fitness centers and Netflix. For JCC’s that run gyms, this is no big deal. They’re Jewish organizations invested in businesses and revenue streams that meet needs beyond the spiritual/social/communal. I’ve always believed that a Jewish person who joins the JCC does so as a Jew, making a Jewish choice.

But for the rest of us, families want to know why they need to be invested in a synagogue when all they want is a Jewish education for their children. People are looking for community and connection without the burden of dues, the building fund, and so on. More and more families are doing Jewish stuff, less and less as members of Jewish institutions. It’s time for us to rethink, as a community, how membership does and doesn’t work, to investigate new models, and most importantly, to engage our constituencies in this conversation about investment and financial sustainability.

Lesson 4
Identities are complicated. If the Pew study did nothing else, it showed us how our understandings of Jewishness and the labels that go along with it are pretty much completely off the mark. For example, the Pew study found that 4% of Jews with no religion attend synagogue services monthly. As we continue to get to know this new and different American Jewish community, we must embrace the many new ways of expressing identity. Judaism is a facet of people’s lives and the ways they see themselves. The question is no longer whether “Jewish” or “American” comes first. The question is, “what else is in there?”

I don’t have to choose between environmentalism and Judaism, between a hike andShabbat services; I can be a part of the eco-Jewish movement or hang out at Urban Adamah. Or perhaps I’m a foodie, or an athlete, an amateur gardener, or even a Phish fan. Rather than competing, innovators are looking for more and more ways to integrate, celebrating the amalgams that make us who we are. With this comes a growing disinterest in distinguishing between interfaith or patrilinealism, a desire to claim “post-denominationalism,” and a growing discomfort with older definitions of Judaism. As we work to better understand these 21st century families, we need to be much more nuanced in our understandings of what they are all about, what moves them, and what language and terminology best reflects who they are.

Lesson 5
There is a huge marketing issue. Families can’t figure out what and who is really out there, what programs, events, and institutions might work for them, and they often shy away for fear of ending up in the wrong place. There is too much noise coming from the Jewish world. How many websites can a person check? How many Facebook groups can someone be a member of?

Families with young children are more open to and interested in engagement than just about any other demographic group. These new families are looking for opportunities to try out different experiences. They’re actively looking for us. And unlike other demographic groups that might require some careful PR and messaging, the parents we’re talking about are waiting for an invitation – an effective communication plan that is comprehensive and clear is the way to go.

Lesson 6
Community, community, community! Families long for community above everything else. Let’s be honest, that’s what everyone is looking for and it’s really one of the most compelling things we Jews have to offer. Everyone knows we do community well, and families want in. Across all of our family engagement programs, after hearing from hundreds of families, community is the common denominator. They might sign up for a Family Ed program or something for their kids, but in the end parents almost always say they are looking for other families to be friends with.

Families want to be part of a group they can call their own. Parents want friends for their children and for themselves; they want to socialize with other families with young kids. These groups or communities aren’t synagogue communities, though they may be found in them. They aren’t affinity groups connecting people with common interests. These are small groups of like-minded friends who parent similarly, share similar values, and appreciate the ways in which their kids play together. This is the Holy Grail for families, a small social network to grow up with.

Lesson 7
Parents and their children are sophisticated consumers. Organizations have to put their best feet forward if they want to compete in the crowded Jewish education and engagement marketplace. That means not only having great products, programs and initiatives that deliver on promises, but also savvy marketing materials that send the right messages. To continue to keep families engaged we need to be as particular about our marketing, branding, and communication as we are about the content.

Parents and kids look for signs of excellence. Whether we like it or not, our website design and the ad in the local Jewish newspaper has to look good and be on trend or folks will simply pass it by. Without high quality marketing and messaging, we risk folks making the same judgment they’ve always made about Jewish education and engagement, that it isn’t serious, doesn’t take itself seriously, and is therefore, likely of low quality.

Jewish families are ready to take American Judaism into an entirely new and exciting place. They bring new ideas to the table, they value Judaism and Jewish identity in mature and interesting ways, and they’re looking for opportunities to realize Jewish lives that work for them. We just have to meet them where they are, in the 21st century.

Rabbi Joshua Fenton is the Associate Director of Jewish LearningWorks

“It doesn’t matter where you come from, it matters what you do”.  I heard this coming from the TV the other day as my kids watched, mesmerized by the Care Bears and their message of acceptance and love.  As their eyes glazed over I found myself a little bothered.  Yes, TV is garbage, but that wasn’t it this time.  “It doesn’t matter where we come from…”  I thought…yes it does!

It’s important that my children know where they come from, that they are the descendents of freed slaves. It matters that they appreciate and understand the experiences of those who came before them, those that fought to survive so that generations later, they could live.  It matters that my children know where they come from because we are Jews and have been for thousands of years and that means something.  It means something to me so it should mean something to them!

In Shaul Magid’s new book American Post Judaism, Magid observes an American Jewish community embracing the very same ethic now resonating with my kids.  He argues that more and more Jews have come to value our national, historic, ethnic identity less and less.  This, he writes, is the effect of Americanism on American Judaism.  An exclusive identity feels un-American.  If I can’t join your group simply because my parents weren’t in it, that’s a problem.  America is all about equal opportunity.  Our national religion, if you can say there is one, is the celebration of the individual and his or her ability to do…..anything.  So, are the Care Bears right?  Is Magid speaking of the death of Judaism?  How will we survive?

Lineage and history have always been the basis upon which Jewish identity is formed. In all the major Jewish movements, you can't simply join.  Without a fairly intensive conversion process, if your mother, or in the case of patrilineal descent, your father, isn’t Jewish - you’re not either.  Further still, you can only be a Cohen if your father was a Cohen and his father before that and his father before that.  Take Passover as another example.  This central Jewish holiday, perhaps the most celebrated holiday on the Jewish calendar, is a day on which we recall the story of the Exodus from Egypt as if it were our own.  Of course telling the story is not enough.  We go to great lengths to identify with that historical event which happened thousands of years ago, because where we come from matters.  If you don’t know the story, how can you call it your own?

Maybe this simply speaks to the need to further strengthen the Jewish narrative in our educational programs?  Perhaps if we only did a better job telling and teaching our story, Jewish identity would be immune to the corrosive effects of Americanism?  The truth is we don’t know.  Magid explores a number of responses to this phenomenon, ultimately arriving at no best practice or tried and true method by which the particularism of Judaism transcends the impact of living in this country.  As educators and leaders in our community, we can no longer ignore the tension between what is now our two inherited traditions, Judaism and Americanism.  Our challenge then becomes one of either retelling or reimagining. Retelling asks us to come up with more impactful, dynamic, methodologies by which we connect Jews to the historically based, ethnically determined, Jewish identity which has always been. 

Reimagining asks us to tell a new story, a new version of what it means to be a Jew.  This new narrative could connect people with a past which they might share no ethnic or historical connection to.  This new narrative could be an American innovation in which the values of the Jewish people and tradition are rooted in a mythic past available to all. 

It’s unclear what the strategy should be because it’s unclear what the problem is.  Do Magid’s observations signal an existential crisis for American Judaism, or are they simply the birth pangs of the next phase in Jewish history, the abandonment of the particular for the universal….and is that Kosher?

As I prepared the conversation I planned to have with my kids after the Care Bears, to counteract the damage that this Americanism had done to my children’s impressionable minds, I heard my son yell from the TV room, “Aba, it’s true isn’t it?  What matters most is what we do. That’s just like how Abraham smashed the idols and became the first Jew”.

There has never been a time in the history of Diaspora Jewry where we have lived with such freedom.  We have had the opportunity to amass wealth and realize positions of power.  In these ways and in many more, Americanism has worked out well for us.  

It’s also true that we’re coming to grips with the changing world in which we live.  As we struggle to understand these changes, be it through scholarly works like Magid’s or through studies of Jewish identity by Pew and others, we should remember that Judaism is big, and deep, and old.  It has meant many different things to Jews for thousands of years and it is during these times of transition and change that the greatest innovations have been realized.  

When the episode came to an end, I chose to say nothing to my kids, my son was right.  As educators, parents, grandparents, and leaders it’s our responsibility to inspire those who look up to us to find the Avraham in themselves.  The stories we tell to achieve that will characterize Jewish Education for a long time to come.   

"It doesn't matter where you come from, it matters what you do".  I heard this coming from the TV the other day as my kids watched, mesmerized by the Care Bears and their message of acceptance and love.  "It doesn't matter where we come from..." I thought...yes it does!
 
It's important that my children know where they come from. It matters that they appreciate and understand the experiences of those who came before them, those that fought to survive so that generations later, they could live.  It matters that my children know where they come from because we are Jews and have been for thousands of years and that means something.  It means something to me so it should mean something to them!

In Shaul Magid's new book American Post-Judaism, Magid observes an American Jewish community embracing the very same ethic now resonating with my kids. He argues that more and more Jews have come to value our national, historic, ethnic identity less and less. This, he writes, is the effect of Americanism on American Judaism.  An exclusive identity feels un-American.  If I can't join your group simply because my parents weren't in it, that's a problem.  America is all about equal opportunity.  Our national religion, if you can say there is one, is the celebration of the individual and his or her ability to do.....anything.  So, are the Care Bears right?  Is Magid speaking of the death of Judaism?  How will we survive?

Lineage and history have always been the basis upon which Jewish identity is formed. Without a fairly intensive conversion process, if your mother, or in the case of patrilineal descent, your father, isn't Jewish - you're not either. Further still, you can only be a Cohen if your father was a Cohen and his father before that and his father before that.  Take Passover as another example. This central Jewish holiday, perhaps the most celebrated holiday on the Jewish calendar, is a day on which we recall the story of the Exodus from Egypt as if it were our own. Of course telling the story is not enough. We go to great lengths to identify with that historical event which happened thousands of years ago, because where we come from matters. If you don't know the story, how can you call it your own?

Maybe this simply speaks to the need to further strengthen the Jewish narrative in our educational programs?  Perhaps if we did a better job telling and teaching our story, Jewish identity would be immune to the effects of Americanism? The truth is we don't know. Magid explores a number of responses to this phenomenon, ultimately arriving at no best practice or tried and true method by which the particularism of Judaism transcends the impact of living in this country. As educators and leaders in our community, we can no longer ignore the tension between our two inherited traditions, Judaism and Americanism. We can recede into a Jewish cocoon and try to ignore the wider culture in which we live. We could toss aside our heritage and dive head-first into the sea of American secularism. Or we find a third way - reimagining our Jewish narrative in authentic ways that embrace the open and fluid American reality in which we live.

Reimagining asks us to tell a new story, a new version of what it means to be a Jew. This new narrative could connect people with a past which they might share no ethnic or historical connection to. This new narrative could be an American innovation in which the values of the Jewish people and tradition are rooted in a mythic past available to all.

As I prepared the conversation I planned to have with my kids after the Care Bears, to counteract the damage that this Americanism had done to my children's impressionable minds, I heard my son yell from the TV room, "Aba, it's true isn't it?  What matters most is what we do. That's just like how Abraham smashed the idols and became the first Jew".

There has never been a time in the history of Diaspora Jewry where we have lived with such freedom.  We have had the opportunity to amass wealth and realize positions of power.  In these ways and in many more, Americanism has worked out well for us.  

It's also true that we're coming to grips with the changing world in which we live.  As we struggle to understand these changes, be it through scholarly works like Magid's or through studies of Jewish identity by Pew and others, we should remember that Judaism is big, and deep, and old.  It has meant many different things to Jews for thousands of years and it is during these times of transition and change that the greatest innovations have been realized.  

When the episode came to an end, I chose to say nothing to my kids, my son was right. As educators, parents, grandparents, and leaders it's our responsibility to inspire those who look up to us to find the Avraham in themselves. The stories we tell to achieve that inspiration will characterize Jewish Education for a long time to come.

What would you have done?  

Rabbi Joshua Fenton is the Associate Director of Jewish LearningWorks 

“Have you heard the one about the young Jewish couple ...” begins Adina Kay-Gross in her Aug. 22 column (“Should Young Families have to Pay to Pray?”) The answer is yes, families should pay if they want to take advantage of resources like synagogue services, and yes, we’ve heard that one.

Families should pay because the Jewish community, any community, requires investment. The parents of these families are the Jewish community’s next leaders. If they don’t understand that there are costs to participating in community, ultimately our institutions, the very ones Kay-Gross is talking about, will fail.

But that doesn’t mean Kay-Gross is wrong. As more and more families opt out of traditional synagogue affiliation and by extension, organized Jewish life, our institutions need to think seriously about how business models do and don’t work for a new generation of families struggling in this economic climate. To not charge for services sends a message we should be concerned about, but to do nothing for those families who are effectively priced out of Jewish community is wrong.

So, how do we make our institutions more welcoming to families? Jewish communities have played with alternative dues and membership models. Bay Area communities have experimented with community passports, allowing those who purchase a passport to attend any synagogue in the community. Others have given away tickets while others have opened up their services to all at no charge.

We’ve heard this story before. What’s new is Kay-Gross’ description of an engagement experience that actually worked: A holistic approach to family engagement combined the efforts of a local federation, a JCC, the PJ Library and a synagogue, and led to an experience that ultimately blew the doors off the Jewish community for one family. That’s something to talk about, and something we’re trying to do all year long.

The Kesher Initiative, a partnership between Jewish LearningWorks, the San Francisco and East Bay Jewish federations, and a wide range of local Jewish institutions is working to re-create those kinds of welcoming experiences for hundreds of families throughout the Bay Area, throughout the year, in just that way. Spearheaded by a team of community concierges, Kesher works with local institutions and families to facilitate connections, gentle handoffs and personalized referrals so that families can connect to the Jewish experiences and institutions that fit their specific needs and desires. Partner programs, collaborations and community initiatives are emerging from this approach — and in the South Peninsula this year, so has a community High Holy Days ticket promotion for families. Parents who would not otherwise bring their family to services are invited to purchase $36 tickets to any participating South Peninsula synagogue or institution.

Don’t confuse this with a sale. The rationale isn’t to fill seats that would otherwise be empty. Families don’t want to be treated like customers, and synagogues don’t want to be treated like products. This promotion is about breaking down barriers and developing relationships. Synagogues still struggle with the reality that dues and tickets appear to many as insurmountable obstacles to engagement. Families, like others in our community, continue to operate under the assumption that synagogues are only for members and that they aren’t welcome unless they pony up.

A holistic approach to engagement recognizes this fundamental breakdown in understanding and attempts to address it — holistically. That’s the magic Kay-Gross experienced. PJ Library, a North American Jewish engagement program that reaches out successfully to less-connected families, partnered with a JCC preschool, a local synagogue and a rabbi. The result is a simple yet elegant system in which families were introduced to Judaism with no strings attached. Then an invitation to explore what a deeper relationship might look like arrived in the mail. This is what, why and how Kesher works in the Bay Area as well, and it’s great to learn other communities are coming to similar realizations.

Yes, Ms. Kay-Gross, we’ve heard that one before, and we’re working together as a community to really do something about it.