My Last Graduates

Have you ever visited your old school and found the students seem young, much younger than they appeared when you were there? And you didn’t know any of them. You might know only a few staff members. The place feels familiar but smaller and it doesn’t perfectly match up with your memories. It is a strange experience. 

I taught at Deerfield High School for thirty-three years and retired three years ago. Between COVID and school changes, the years since my retirement have been particularly dramatic for the school. There has been a lot of change and upheaval. I have remained in touch with many of my former coworkers and students. I have attended events at the school. It does not feel foreign – yet. 

Except for one very important change: my final freshmen are graduating seniors. Next year, I will no longer have any former students in the building. When I go to a play, concert, or sporting event, I will not know any of the kids. I will know some of the teachers, but more and more of them are retiring or leaving. 

By its definition, high school graduation is a one-time experience –for students. This year is my thirty-sixth Deerfield graduation - and my final one. Next year, none of the graduates will have studied with me. 

As my last class graduates, they will be spread across the country and the world. Teachers know this; our hearts leave with our students. Most, we will never see again. A few will keep in touch. A few we will bump into around town (and we’ll hope to remember their names). But this is the last time my students will be together. I share their moment of change; their transition. 

I wish them well. They are moving into a much more challenging world than their parents and teachers. However, they have endured lockdown and active shooter drills, masked classrooms, virtual classes, and countless educational fads and initiatives. They are facile with technology and social media. They hold the entirety of human knowledge in their hands literally and sometimes need to stop looking at it. 

There is nothing they cannot do. As their teacher, I happily put my fate in their hands. I have great faith that they will meet the future with creativity, compassion, resourcefulness, and determination. The future of our world rests with them – as it should. 

Congratulations, Class of 2022. Thank you for our year together  - and for all you will do in the future! 

Reading For Treasure: We Need to Keep Talking and Reading About Racism, Roe, CRT, and Hate

Reading for Treasure is my list of articles that are worth your attention. Click here for an introduction! 

The news overflows with horrible stories of racism, sexism, and other forms of hate. Here is a small selection of articles and videos to further your understanding of these critical issues. 

Imbolo Mbue writes in The Atlantic about the recent biography of George Floyd. Neither he nor the writers of the biography shy away from a nuanced and complex picture of Floyd – and that picture is also one of our America:  “The America that Killed George Floyd.” 

The overturning of Roe v. Wade puts several other rights in jeopardy. This article from Blavity outlines how this Supreme Court decision could open the door to eliminating other rights: “5 Other Rights That Could Be Struck Down If Roe V. Wade Is Overturned”

Alexis McGill is the president and CEO of Planned Parenthood. She writes in the New York Amsterdam News that “The end of Roe and what it would mean for the Black community.”

Two pieces that focus on Critical Race Theory: Lifehacker provides a clear piece on “What Critical Race Theory Actually Means (And What It Doesn’t).”

John Oliver discusses Critical Race Theory on this episode of Last Week Tonight.

How do we prevent white children from becoming white nationalists? My former colleague provides teachers, parents, counselors, and coaches with information about “Inoculating Our Students Against White Nationalism — Teaching While White.”

Finally, the Associated Press published this article, “Explainer: Theory of White Replacement Fuels Racist Attacks” which provides a background to the ideas that are motivating terrorist attacks by white nationalists. 

I am currently reading Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel.

Twenty One‘derful Years of Sunday School

I am retiring – again. I have been teaching Confirmation Class on Sunday mornings for twenty-one years. When we started the congregation in 2001, we wanted to be a full-service congregation; that meant a religious school, so I volunteered to teach Confirmation Class. 

We began with the curriculum from our prior congregation. It focused on comparative Judaism and comparative religion. I started with the continuum of Judaism. I took kids to Shabbat services at reform, conservative, reconstructing, and orthodox synagogues –and asked them to come to one of our Friday night services. Of course, high school students (and their parents) have many other things happening on Friday nights or Saturday mornings. And many students had been going to their friends’ mitzvahs at the very same congregations we were visiting. We had some very interesting conversations. 

I told students to dress nicely for these visits as they would for a B Mitzvah. When we visited a conservative synagogue for a Friday night service, one of my students arrived in a very short skirt and a bare midriff. I took off my coat as I saw her come into the sanctuary and said to her, “Put this on, you must be freezing!” I learned to be much more clear about my dress expectations. 

We also studied world religions and visited a Catholic Church and a nearby mosque. Through these seven field trips, the connections between all the religions were increasingly clear to the kids and me – and we were exhausted. It was too many field trips! 

In the third year, I decided to do a little of each: we studied some comparative Judaism and some comparative religion. I organized the years around the structures of the religions – and scheduled all field trips on Sunday mornings! One year, we went to an Orthodox Jewish shul, the Catholic church nearby, an Evangelical megachurch, the local mosque, and a Hindu mandir. The other year, we went to the Unitarian church, a United Church of Christ church, the Buddhist temple, the Bahai House of Worship, and a “classical reform” Jewish congregation that still had Sunday morning services. Five field trips a year was much more reasonable. 

And now, ninety-one kids, eighty-four field trips, and 470 class sessions later, I am handing Confirmation Class over to another teacher. Although I still love learning with students, the structure of Sunday mornings has become too restrictive. Both of my adult(ish) children live and work out of town. If I visit them, our time together must be on weekends. It is too hard to find ways to travel to see my kids and be back on Sunday mornings – and I feel way too guilty missing class. 

It has been a fantastic twenty-one years. I have learned with outstanding students. I have worked with fantastic colleagues and parents. I have talked with remarkable clergy. It has been joyous! 

In the beginning, my own children came to Sunday school with me. They would help set up my classroom and then run off to their own. We rejoined each other for the last half-hour, when the entire school gathered to sing. My parents would come to these music sessions, as would the parents (and often grandparents) of many of the students. It was a gathering of the congregation and a highlight of my week. 

I knew almost all of the families well. Once, as class came to an end, I joked with a student, telling him, “I’m going to tell your parents about this.” He looked at me and replied, “I’m going to tell your parents!” What a beautiful thing that he could! 

Every time we would study a religion or visit a different house of worship, I would learn with the kids. The first time we drove up to the huge megachurch, one of my students leaned over and said, “Oh, Mr. Hirsch, you’ve made a mistake. This is a mall!” Nope. It was a church – and it was bigger than a mall. 

I loved the moment that we drove through the gate at the BAPS Shri Swaminarayan Mandir in Bartlet. I showed the kids photos. We had read about Hinduism. But nothing could adequately prepare them for the first sight of that magnificent structure. The collective gasp as we arrived more than made up for the long journey to get there. 

There have been challenging and memorable moments, too: the student who asked our host at the megachurch, “So, are we all going to hell?” The time a guide compared homosexuality to heroin addiction and my students were so flabbergasted that they literally began to move toward her. The pastor who was so approachable that one of my students whispered to me, “These are the coolest Christians I have ever met.” The charming and affable host at the mosque who just didn’t sit down, so we had our half-hour discussion standing (and swaying) on our feet. The host who thought, since he had grown up Jewish, that he was knowledgeable about our religion and made assumptions that were increasingly uncomfortable. The wonderful shofar-making activity at the orthodox shul – and the stuffed goat, and bumping into friends and neighbors at the Catholic church. 

One big issue we discussed a great deal is god. It is a very popular and important topic. We explore different ideas about god and different ways to conceptualize theism. I even show the Star Trek: The Next Generation episode, “Who Watches The Watchers” to help us articulate questions and answers about the concept of an anthropomorphic god. 

We didn’t study religion purely academically. The point was to think critically about our own beliefs. We learned about how others answered important religious questions so that we could explore them ourselves. We wrestled with moral dilemmas, talked about what it meant to proselytize, and discussed the line between belief and behavior. The test of belief is how it shows up in our daily lives. How do we walk our talk? How do our beliefs shape our identities and decisions? 

At the conclusion of the two-year class, students get a chance to talk about what they believe. At our confirmation service, they focus on one part of their journey they want to share. Some students talk about god. Some talk about different views of Judaism. Other students focus on some of the questions we asked on our field trips, ethical issues, or their own stories. One young woman started out by telling us that, to her, her mother was god. A young man described his ethical code simply by saying he did his best to “not be an asshole.” Another explored the difference between confirming and conforming. Students sometimes challenged or questioned things they had learned. They wrestled with the concept of what makes something a religion. They described how they navigated conversations about religion with their friends. Year after year, their reflections made me think about my own philosophy and how I could better guide the next group of students. 

It has been a privilege to learn at Kol Hadash’s Sunday School. It has been an honor to study with these students, teachers, and parents. I often said that I am the lucky teacher at the end of the line. I benefited from all the magnificent learning that happened in the classes before Confirmation. From our youngest students learning songs and holidays to studying lifecycle events, heroes, Israel, and wrestling with the Holocaust, students are well prepared for Confirmation Class. I can’t take credit for their brilliance. They have been primed by their families and their earlier classes. I am very proud of them when they stand before the congregation and share their wisdom. 

I am grateful to students with whom I have learned – and their families. Their commitment to Jewish learning is inspiring. I am grateful for the incredible teachers and education directors with whom I have worked – and our outstanding rabbi. For the last three years, I have co-taught Confirmation Class with a teacher who is one of the most able, empathetic, and perceptive educators I have ever met. She will take over Confirmation Class next year. It will be a big upgrade. 

I am only retiring from teaching. I am still very involved in our congregation. I chair our fundraising committee, sing in the choir, and do a variety of other tasks. And if someone needs some help on Sunday morning, I am happy to assist. I live next door, after all.  

When I was a young child, my parents never expected to find a congregation at which they would feel comfortable. When they found Humanistic Judaism, it matched their philosophy and the way they lived their lives. There are so many families like us out there. It gives me such nachas that our congregation and school continues to be a warm and welcoming place for anyone who wants to confirm that Judaism can be celebrated culturally, secularly, non-theistically, and joyfully! 

Return to the Comic Cons: Cons Run By Fans and Cons Run For Profit

I attend science fiction fan conventions. Since I was in high school, I have loved their community, conversation, and connection. The first conventions I attended were not-for-profit events run by fans. The folks organizing these conventions were doing it for the love of fandom. 

These conventions featured panel discussions, film, video, and game rooms, music events, art shows, dealers' rooms, con suites (to eat and talk), and countless other planned and unplanned fun. They were immersive all day (and much of the night) experiences. The featured guests at these conventions were usually writers, artists, and, in the early days, movie and television creators and stars. Even when I attended alone, I was pulled into parties, conversations, and made friends I still see at cons today. 

In the eighties, soon after the premiere of Star Trek: The Next Generation, I attended some conventions run by companies for profit. These conventions were different than the fan cons. Initially, these pro conventions only had two spaces: a main stage and a shopping mall. Sometimes, there were exhibit spaces as well. The guests at these conventions were almost exclusively movie and television stars and creators. 

Over the years, I had seen all of the original Star Trek series cast and many from the other series at a fan-run convention in St. Louis called Space Trek. However, as the pro cons grew, they became the primary or only way to see the on-screen (or screen-related) celebrities. 

At these pro run cons, I often felt like a commodity. These for-profit conventions were shows. I found a seat in a big main stage room and stayed there most of the day. Many of the presentations felt like commercials. I felt like the Ferengi had taken over the con business. 

To be fair, a few of the fan-run conventions focused far more on literary science fiction than television, movies, or comic books – sometimes with a problematic attitude. I remember a person at a panel sneering, “Haven’t you ever read Left Hand of Darkness?” But this was not true at all fan cons; each one had a unique personality. 

I was introduced to science fiction through short stories and novels and I have always been a reader. I am also an enthusiastic fan of genre television shows and movies. There are fan conventions that catered to all of these interests, even if some had a higher-brow tone. But the pro conventions focused on comic books and media (and related products). The fan cons focused on what the fans who organized and attended them wanted: some were more literary, some were more media-focused, and some included anime, comic books, music, art, and more. 

In the 90s, I was immersed in my career and family, so spending the entire weekend at a convention was impractical. Sometimes, spending a Saturday was a luxury.  I did my best to go to the two local fan-run conventions, Windycon and Capricon, as often as my schedule permitted – which wasn’t as often as I wanted. 

For decades, my connection to fandom was through these two conventions. I did not attend the big comic cons that had become popular or the professionally run conventions focused on Star Trek or newly popular franchises. Since I didn’t have as much time (or money) for conventions, when I went, I wanted to connect with community and have substantive conversations and experiences. The pro cons felt like cotton candy, the fan cons were a sustaining meal! 

As my children and I grew older, I attended a few fan-run World Science Fiction Conventions, which were everything I loved about conventions writ gargantuan. I ventured out and went to a few fan-run conventions out of town. 

Recently, I retired. Now, I have time. I attended my first comic con, C2E2 (Chicago Comics and Entertainment Exhibition). When the folks who run C2E2 announced a major Star Trek convention in Chicago, it felt like an opportunity to reacquaint myself with the pro cons. 

I enjoyed C2E2 and Star Trek Mission: Chicago. However, if I have to make a choice between these stage and store cons and the cons run by fans for fans, I am going to the latter. I had a good time and I met some nice people, but the connections were superficial and commercial. 

All conventions must make money. There are bills to pay. Convention spaces don’t donate their space or resources. However, the commercial focus at C2E2 and Mission: Chicago was prominent. For example, it was very clear that Mission: Chicago’s real mission was to sell the new Star Trek shows. It was peddling all sorts of products and subscriptions connected to them. That was its main purpose. The celebration, exploration, and community were by-products when fans buy products. 

I liked hearing from the stars and creators, yet I missed the analysis and thoughtful conversations that are often present during smaller panels. The comedian emcees at Mission: Chicago did not seem to be fans themselves and often, perhaps unconsciously, took a condescending tone. I sometimes felt like I was at an event for children. 

I met some very nice people and had good conversations with the folks sitting around me. We didn’t walk to the con suite and sit down and talk. We didn’t ask each other, “Where are you going next?” I doubt we’ll see each other at the next con. 

I was pleased to see that both pro conventions had some events beyond the main stage. However, they were few. There were a few costume-related events, a secondary stage, and a panel room (or two); skimpy by even COVID fan con standards. 

The pro cons are not cheap! They want high prices for entry – and all the stuff in the exhibit hall. They also sell products related to their famous star guests: autographs, photo opportunities, and other ways to rub shoulders with celebrities were main items on the menu– for a price. 

Fans created these conventions many years ago. Business people now use them as marketing tools. Conventions, for me, are far more than celebrities and shopping. 

I wonder what all the folks who go to these big productions would think of their local conventions? Would they join a fan group, help with a fan-based charity project, discuss a book, and become more substantively connected to the brilliant, inclusive, and thriving fan family? I hope so. The World Science Fiction Convention is coming to Chicago over Labor Day Weekend. Windycon is in November and Capricon is in February. Join us! 

Has It Really Been Only Two Years of COVID? It Feels Much Longer.

Part1: Time

For many years, I have made a family calendar as a Father’s Day gift with photos from the prior year. The calendar starts in July of the current year. Of course, some of the photos must be older than one year because I start putting the calendar together a few months early to get it ready and printed. March is that border. The photos are from one year old until April then they are two years old. 

As I turned the page on my calendar, the photos shocked me. This was no April fool joke. They were from the first month of the pandemic. I had a moment when I thought I messed up and included much older photos. I had the opposite of déjà vu is: I felt like the photos could not be only two years old. They felt ancient. 

I have written about the experience of having my adult-ish kids return home and leave – several times during the first year of the pandemic. I have written about my fears of COVID and working hard to get everyone to take precautions. But this was different. 

What struck me, as 2020 appeared on my calendar, was the power of doubt and distance. We are just returning to a kind of normal. I am still wearing a mask when I go to a store, which I am doing more often than I did in 2020, but still infrequently. Yet, there are people who act as if the whole horrible situation is over and gone. I hope they are right. 

I can’t say the second year of COVID moved quickly, but those photos from two years ago feel further from my present. Did this year feel like several years? It didn’t feel that slow while I was living it. I was busy and days flew by.  But now, as I glance backward, the reverse route seems to stretch back well beyond only two years. 

Part 2: Weight 

I don’t think the issue is just about my perception of time; it is also about the enormity of the past two years. There were many major milestones. If I had to carry them all, it would be more than I could handle. Maybe it is the emotional weight of the past two years, the anxiety, fear, relief, and hope – and that cycle repeating over and over. 

I remember riding a Superman roller coaster at a theme park many years ago. Instead of sitting in a seat, the riders were placed in a prone position, as if they were Superman flying. However, it didn’t feel that way. I felt like I was squatting on all fours and the only thing preventing me from dropping to a horrible death was the support under my belly. With roller coasters restraints that pushed me into a chair, I had the illusion I could hang on to something if the bar in front of me released. If this Superman tummy thing broke, my only hope was that I really could fly. I guess I’d fly for a few seconds. When the ride ended, all I felt was relief. 

I haven’t become accustomed to that lack of control, helplessness, and unpredictability. I carry them with me. My mask may come on and off, but I am always carrying the concern and worry (and the mask!). And when hope appears, I am suspicious and tentative. When nothing bad happens, I am grateful and relieved. 

Part 3: Balance

Right now, we are in a COVID sweet spot. People are behaving as if they believe this whole horrible two-year-long episode is over. I hope they are right, but I feel certain they are wrong. I want to take off my mask, but I am afraid of what might happen to the people I love. 

Predictability is one of the many causalities of this pandemic. Uncertainty has become a permanent resident. Every choice feels like placing a bet in a casino, without the fun thrill. 

Reading news of the world is horrifying. I give to charities and do what I can to assist, but it never seems like enough. I am frustrated by politics. I scream at the television and lament my fellow citizens’ clannishness. It is overwhelming. I face the issue and then, having looked at it, wish I could close my senses and retreat.

I am tempted to quote Dickens (and some of you know my deep relationship with the work I am about to reference), but I am so grateful that these past two years were not the worst of times – for me. They were for so many – and continue to be horrible! There were some moments that ironically felt like the best of times. My children were home, then they left. We were all together and could support each other - and then we were apart and on our own again.

Part 4: Now

It was two years ago that the world got sick. It has only become more so and in ever-increasingly complex ways. Denying what we have experienced feels disrespectful to all of those who have suffered. Selfishly focusing on my people will not protect them. I wish the pandemic were truly over. I will do what the public health folks tell me is best for our collective health, but I am painfully aware that this is a group project – and like these projects back in school, too many members of our group are not doing their fair share. The good may not balance out the bad. Our current health may not protect us against future illness. 

Yes, I must learn to cherish now – and consider how to help others while preparing for an uncertain future. But I should not sacrifice present joys to future anxieties and horrors. I can be grateful for my good fortune, help those who are struggling, and stay grounded in this positive potential. These past decades, I mean years, have taught me how agonizingly fragile the present might be. 

Reading For Treasure: Pick A College But Not Just Any College

Reading for Treasure is my list of articles that are worth your attention. Click here for an introduction! 

It’s that time of year again. High school seniors are being plagued (sorry) with the question, “What are you doing next year?” Here are some articles that might help them make those choices and prepare for next year. 

“Want to find an affordable college? There's a website for that” from NPR is a good overview of The College Scorecard website, which was just updated. It is an invaluable resource to any family sending a child to college. 

Also from NPR, “Georgetown study measures colleges' return on investment” describes a website that looks at how much college graduates earn and how different schools’ alumni perform after college. Oddly, the article does not provide you with the Georgetown study results – but I will! 

Although short and a little simple, “College and Alcohol: Sober in College (And Still Having Fun)” from yourteenmag.com is a good way to start the conversation about drinking in college. 

And while we are talking about drinking, let’s talk about sex. “At Northwestern, a Secret Society of Virgins” from the Chicago Tribune is a candid discussion about being a virgin at college. 

If there are issues, Consumer Reports addresses the question, “Will You Be Able to Help Your College-Age Child in a Medical Emergency?” It turns out that HIPAA privacy may make this challenging. This article lets you be prepared. 

From Grown and Flown, here is one parent’s experience when her son did have to go to the emergency room, “My College Freshman Went to The ER: What This Mom Learned.”

This is not my first blog post with a college focus. Here are a few posts from this blog that might come in handy as your child tries to decide what will come after high school: Avoiding mistakes and some good advice,  College Advice from Shakespeare (and me), Textbooks and Sex: A Reading List for College Students, Future College Students, and the People Who Love Them, College Readiness, and What does it mean to go to a “good school?” 

Finally, here is a powerfully candid piece from Slate that all students should read even more closely than they read (if they read) their actual college syllabuses, “My Fake College Syllabus” 

I am currently rereading This is How You Lose The Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone

It's Way Too Complicated!

“Let me make this simple for you.”

Simple? For me? Does that make me a simpleton? Why do you need to make it simple? What happens when you simplify? Are we losing important information and ideas if a complicated issue is turned from a detailed mosaic into a black and white cartoon? 

Sometimes, people don’t want to think that hard. Sometimes, they don’t want to make difficult choices and decisions. Life is so much easier when the alternatives are straightforward: good or evil, rich or poor, right or wrong. 

That’s why we sometimes tie ourselves into knots finding ways to make tough problems easier. That’s why politicians provide sound bites instead of thoughtful arguments. They believe we don’t have the time, patience, or mental capacity to understand the nuance, see the details, or appreciate the complexity. But we do. We must! 

Sometimes, we’re lazy. We make choices about where to spend our precious energy, especially our brainpower. Running a marathon is grueling, thinking one is even more so. Governments, advertisers, cheaters, and crooks appeal to this laziness hoping that, if they make it simple for us, we will do what they want us to do. They don’t want us to worry our pretty little heads about these grown-up issues. 

Trust me, this is the heart of the matter. This is what is going on underneath all the layers of manipulation, deflection, and denial. I’ll do the thinking for you. I’ll tell you what to think and then I’ll tell you what to do. You’ll do what I say. You’ll believe my interpretation. You’ll just follow along. Trust me. 

No! 

We must confront the complexity. We must take the time to sift through the information. We must examine the shades of gray, uncertainties, and inconsistencies. I’ll trust the expert who has credentials – and I’ll ask them to explain their reasoning. 

I might have a question. I might have many questions. If the issue is so simple that no questions are needed (or desired), then why are we talking about it? Why is there disagreement? If the statement begins with, “Anyone with any common sense would, of course, come to the conclusion that…” it is probably been over-simplified. 

Years ago, students would say to me, “I’m sorry, but I prefer math to English class because math doesn’t make me defend my interpretations and answers. In math class, the answers are just the answers. Everything is clear cut and I know when I am right.” In other words, I don’t want to think that deeply. Wow, were those students in for a surprise when they find themselves in upper-level math classes where content is as nuanced as any literary analysis. 

It is challenging to comb through information in search of patterns. It is hard work to reach decisions based on reams of information. But I would vote for thoughtful leaders who take the time and energy to really figure things out over simpletons who jump to easy decisions quickly because they won’t – or can’t cope with complexities. 

Dealing with COVID is complicated. The war in Ukraine is complicated. Dealing with racism is complicated. Important issues aren’t simple. We wish there were more, but, as the old saying goes, wish in one hand, spit in the other, see which one fills up first. 

Googling the question is not doing research. Reading an article or watching a story on television is not figuring it out. Real reasoning takes time and critical evaluation – and expertise. It is a rigorous process. This is why academic journals only accept peer-reviewed articles. This is why good journalists verify what their sources tell them. It is easier to jump to conclusions. It is faster to only read the headline or listen to the sound bite. It feels better to just decide that the answer you want to be right is correct. 

Unfortunately, I fear the simpletons and lazy thinkers are in the majority. Many people don’t want to think that deeply. They work hard doing many other things. They want the answers to be short, sweet, easy, entertaining, and cheap – and when the shysters claim that it is all really very simple, they are selling exactly what these simpletons desire.