If you’ve ever been in the halls of a high school these days, you’ve probably seen earbuds plugged in, cell phones out and pants that sag way too low. This is our future workforce. Teaching teenagers how to become skilled working citizens of our country is a challenge, to say the least. A couple of years ago, I taught at the Rockdale Career Academy in Conyers, where the mission is to train young people in different trades so they can go straight to work after high school — or at least with the minimum need of post-secondary education. Not everyone is meant to go to college, right? So, the mentality of the faculty and administration at RCA is remarkably different from traditional high schools — the principal is called the CEO. One thing that is stressed to the students from the day they walk into the building is relevant for their entire lives: decorum. The entire atmosphere of the school is very business-like.
The students attend the first period of the day at their home school and travel to RCA to attend one of the career and technical education classes like automotive, construction, healthcare, engineering and broadcast video production (the subject I teach). Because the faculty must train these students to be a skilled workforce — and because investors and business owners often visited for tours — we had to teach students that once they walked through the door, they must take on a different personality. I often told the kids, “You never know when your future employer is walking through the halls,” and hoped for exemplary behavior. It was still a pretty tall order.
I frequently told my RCA students that my job goes far beyond teaching them about proper camera composition, broadcast style script writing, or the history of mass communication. My job was to teach them how to master skills they’ll use in the real world: planning, scheduling, time management, ethical workplace behavior, etc. I run my classroom like a business and expect students to have proper decorum, not just in my classroom or in the halls of RCA, but anywhere and anytime they are out “in the field” (i.e. the public) representing my class and the school. There’s a time and a place to act like you’re at home, and that’s at home!
My graduate college professor shared a story in class about his extensive career in public relations in the private sector and in the Navy. One Sunday afternoon, he dined at the home of the admiral in charge of the base where he was stationed. It was very casual — the admiral was relaxed wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt. While sitting around shooting the breeze, an official from the base came to the admiral’s home to deliver some important information to him. Immediately upon receiving this guest, the admiral’s demeanor changed. Even though he wasn’t in uniform, he changed his facial expressions, the tone of his voice and the way he carried himself to a very business-like manner.
Decorum. There’s a time and a place for everything.
Every week, I attend Shabbat services at Congregation Or VeShalom — it’s the highlight of my hectic week. From the moment I stepped into this synagogue nearly a year and a half ago, I knew I was at home. The warmth and friendliness of the people here, I believe, are unparalleled. I love how services are so interactive. Congregants get to be a part of the show as they recite specific passages in English. I was in awe the first time I heard Rabbi Kassorla speaking in between aliyot and giving a description of the upcoming aliyah, often providing insights and interpretations, and even asking questions for any congregant to answer. I couldn’t believe it. For once I felt like someone (or rather, collectively, a synagogue) cares about what I think, rather than telling me what to think. I’ve had this experience before, and it was life-changing. And so, it happened again. The Shabbat morning I walked through the doors of the dome, my life changed forever.
But one thing has not changed for me as I walk into the sanctuary: decorum. I train my students in professionalism, including how to knock on a teacher’s door, introduce themselves, state their purpose and politely request a student, or the teacher, for an interview on camera. The classroom is a teacher’s sanctuary — and students should respect it — so tread lightly and humbly. We even do role-playing in class so they can get a taste of what is to come. We exercise over and over until I feel they are competent to handle it on their own and go out in the field and represent me and my department honorably. Likewise, when I walk into the sanctuary, I’m very careful to be respectful of G’d’s classroom, and I try to be as discreet as possible. The sanctuary is where something very special takes place, and I’m not about to disrupt that.
My students will forget now and again the protocol I expect them to follow when entering another teacher’s classroom. That’s ok, I tell them. We’re human and make mistakes. Don’t be afraid to make mistakes, but don’t become too complacent, too comfortable. Just be sure to take away a lesson learned and use that knowledge in future experiences. It’s easy to become remiss in our actions, especially when it’s something we do over and over for years on end. That is a mistake.
It’s important to do an inventory of our outward actions and behaviors, otherwise our most valuable assets get lost. Those assets are the character traits that allow us to function in society, to make friends, to show gratitude and respect. Our assets are not designed to sit on a shelf and collect dust; they should attract others and entice them to share experiences with us. Most importantly, our assets are a reflection of who we are. As Jews, we should strive to reflect the light of the Torah, living (acting and behaving) in a manner that sheds a positive light on B’nai Yisrael. The Torah says we are to be a light unto the nations. B’nai Yisrael is a nation. It’s time to get off our assets and be a light unto each other.
When I walk into the OVS sanctuary, I know I am walking into G’d’s classroom. When a student walks into any classroom from Pre-K to college, the teacher expects decorum, as do the other students who are there to learn. In the sanctuary/classroom, any behavior less than respectful or reverent is disruptive and can be destructive. The modern-day sanctuary represents the Holy of Holies of the Temple that once stood as a beacon of faith for all Jews. It also represents the countless Jews throughout history who lost their lives defending our holy Temple in the name of G’d, for the honor of Judaism, for the light of the Torah. Synagogues exist today because we lost our Temple. Jews exist today because we found our calling.
Inspiration is not readily available to all of us at all times, and that’s ok. To be honest, I attend synagogue services every Shabbat because I love the people. The rich diversity and history at Or VeShalom is reflected in the sumptuous Sephardic foods; the warmth and kindness of its members envelop me and comfort me like a mother’s arms. My spiritual nourishment is provided by an aggregate of the love of Torah and the love of the congregation. We learn of our past in the sanctity of our modern-day Temple, in our spiritual classroom, in our sanctuary. We schmooze and booze during kiddush club (or as my daughter calls it, Torah Halftime); and socialize and fraternize during kiddush in the social hall. I feel very comfortable at OVS — it’s a second home to me. But it isn’t my home. There’s a time and a place to act like you’re at home, and that’s at home.
If there’s anything we can learn from high school students who must grapple with drawing a line between acting like teenagers in school and respecting the classroom is just that: drawing a line between sociality and sanctity, and knowing when to practice each. I wouldn’t suggest hitting the halls of high schools to observe teenagers in action — it isn’t pretty. But we could take a few notes from those students who know how to show respect in the classroom — the numbers aren’t massive, but they do exist.
The synagogue is like a school where sections of the building are dedicated for sanctified learning and other sections for socializing. This isn’t to say that some socializing shouldn’t take place during learning; it’s very important to have both as fellowship reinforces the learning experience. However, when socializing detracts from the learning experience in the sanctuary/classroom, the disruption destroys the sanctity we have survived for and many have died for. If G’d is our teacher, then the sanctuary is His classroom. Tread lightly and humbly — like the students who are learning to be working adults and know when to show Kavod (respect) and know when to relax and just be kids. Students who show honor and respect in a teacher’s classroom will be rewarded. When? The reward comes at the time it is most needed.
Before we can be Or L’Goyim (a light to the nations), we should strive to be Or L’atzmanu (a light to ourselves). The Talmud gives several reasons why our Holy Temple of ancient Jerusalem was destroyed — one being “baseless hatred towards each other.” I cannot begin to explain the intricacies Taludic learning, but I do know how to be an asset to our people and our continued existence: decorum. Our modern-day Temple needs us in order to survive — tread lightly and humbly.
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