Features
My transitions in Jewish education
By PHYLLIS LIPSON DANA From 1941 until 1945 I lived on Mountain and Aikins and was a student from Kindergarten to Grade 4 at the Folk School, located in a 3 storey house at the corner of St Johns and Charles.
In my final year there the school merged with the I L Peretz School, which was then located in a large building on Aberdeen just west of Salter. We had moved to a house on Lansdowne Avenue east of Main so I attended Luxton School by day and went to Peretz evening classes for two years. By then our family had joined the Shaarey Zedek on Dagmar Street, so I continued my Jewish education there at the Sunday School, and began to sing with the synagogue choir.
As I recall, the Folk School had a strong Zionist perspective. Many older students were members of Habonim, which met in the building. There was emphasis on the land of Israel, though the Jewish curriculum was taught mostly in Yiddish, focusing upon language, with a little bit of Hebrew being taught, and there was a significant celebration of Jewish holidays and festivals. I retain many happy memories of my years there. The school population was quite small. In my class were only nine students (Pearl Ash, Elliot Berman, Victor Chernick, Ronald Ganetsky, Sheila Naimark, Hersh Shapera, Barbara Sherebrin, Shirley Schicher, and myself). I can’t find any class pictures but I do have a picture of our kindergarten teacher, Esther Prasso sitting on the school’s steps. Other teachers I remember were Miss Bulstein (who became Mary Yukelis), Miss Kranis (who became Yetta Grysman), Mr. Lapin, Mr. Zeitlin, and Mr. Cantor (who became the principal when the merger occurred.
Since I was no older than nine when the schools merged, I had no idea at the time why the change had taken place. In retrospect, however, I do remember my mother more than once assembling items from home to donate to the “rummage sale” to raise money to buy coal. I suppose that the larger economic base of the Peretz “shool Mispoche” allowed the smaller school to continue in some form. Peretz was secular in philosophy and there were no actual prayers as part of the curriculum in the early grades when I attended. Bible studies were presented as historia (Jewish history) and, although the holiday celebrations were important, I don’t remember any mention of God in the commemorations. However, there were High Holiday services taking place in the school’s basement, which featured my Zaida Nate Lifshitz as one of the cantors. I remember a huge celebration of the end of World War II for which we were transported to the Peretz building for an assembly.
At the Shaarey Zedek I was exposed to a totally different view of Jewish education. Hebrew language was taught through the prayers, and the Bible studies definitely focused on the miracles attached to many celebrations which gave the credit where it was due. At 11 I joined the choir, so of course that meant that I became familiar with the order of Friday evening services and holidays. The synagogue on Wellington Crescent was opened in 1950 and when a junior choir was formed I was required by the choir master, Jack Garland, to join. We performed at Saturday morning services for many years. My parents were regular attendees and my brother became a frequent Torah reader there. I continued in the Shaarey Zedek choir for many years as I married and had two children.
When each of our children were five years old, I truly believed that they were the perfect age. In my experience children at five were adventurous, inquisitive, totally honest, highly sociable, and eager to learn. I had begun taking upgrading classes with the goal of going into Education at university, when Fay Zipman asked me if I would be interested in assisting her in her four-year-old class at Peretz School on Jefferson. I met the principal and he decided to give me a chance. The year was 1965-66 and my career was launched. Fay left teaching a year after I joined her, so I assisted Sara Green until 1969, when she moved to Vancouver.
That fall I began as the Nursery teacher and I was to assist in the kindergarten; the teacher with whom I had been working was needed to take on another class, so I was upgraded to Kindergarten teacher, learning the curriculum at night while I taught all day. I was also continuing my university education at night. The Peretz atmosphere was very family oriented with a strongly Jewish cultural approach. There were many evening gatherings with music, plays, and lectures primarily in Yiddish and always highlighting student performances. While “Shabbes” celebrations were held in the classrooms, with candles, challah and juice distributed, there were no prayers chanted. Students were taught the Hebrew language, but synagogue skills were not part of the curriculum. Some boys had Bar Mitzvahs, but many did not, and initially I never heard of girls becoming “Bat Mitzvah”. Over time the Ashkenazi pronunciations of Hebrew words was replaced by the more modern one and there was a strong focus upon Israel in celebration and song. Little by little Brachot were coming into the Friday candle-and-challah gatherings in classrooms. It seemed that most students were becoming Bar Mitzvah and some girls celebrated Bat Mitzvot.
For many years many kindergarten students rushed home for lunch and then proceeded to their neighborhood schools to attend afternoon kindergarten classes. TV did not provide much stimulation for children in the afternoon and our winters can be very cold. Over the years I met many public school teachers who complained that kids would frequently tell them they had done “that” in their morning school. In the school year 1976-77 an all-day kindergarten was begun at Peretz School and I had the privilege of initiating this concept. Soon other schools incorporated these classes as well.
In the early 80s a number of parents prevailed upon Seven Oaks School Division to begin providing a Hebrew-bilingual program. When it was implemented, registration at the north-end Jewish schools declined…there was no fee at public schools. At the same time the Board of Jewish Education was formed and when, by 1983 – as our school numbers were steadily decreasing (I had a class of only eight children that year), there was a strong movement to merge the I L Peretz Folk School with Talmud Torah.
As anticipated by the smaller school’s most loyal supporters, the Yiddish component of the curriculum became reduced over time to an occasional song being taught and “optional” Yiddish language classes being offered. The teaching of synagogue skills and assemblies in the synagogue were a major component of the Judaic curriculum as well as Hebrew language, reading and writing skills and a strong emphasis upon the land of Israel. As happened with the merger of the Folk Shul with Peretz, the larger school ideology swallowed the smaller. With the burden of teaching full-time, going to university part time, and looking after my family, I had left the Shaarey Zedek choir. Over time I sang for several years in the Rosh Pina choir and in later years with the Temple Shalom choir for High Holiday services.
I have wonderful memories of my more than 30 years teaching in the Jewish day schools, and a photo album full of pictures of most of my classes. Having visited other schools over time to observe teachers and programs, I was glad to notice that the vast majority loved children and were happy to be in kindergarten. The odd time I encountered teachers who were in the wrong place, having little patience for their students and obviously wishing they were in a higher grade. Most teachers of early childhood try to convey a feeling that “school is a happy and safe place where I can succeed”. I hope that children I have taught felt that way in my classrooms.
Ed. note: I had asked Phyllis to send me as many class pictures from her time at Peretz School as she could. She was able to send me eight pictures in total.
Features
So, what’s the deal with the honey scene in ‘Marty Supreme?’
By Olivia Haynie December 29, 2025 This story was originally published in the Forward. Click here to get the Forward’s free email newsletters delivered to your inbox.
There are a lot of jarring scenes in Marty Supreme, Josh Safdie’s movie about a young Jew in the 1950s willing to do anything to secure his spot in table tennis history. There’s the one where Marty (Timothée Chalamet) gets spanked with a ping-pong paddle; there’s the one where a gas station explodes. And the one where Marty, naked in a bathtub, falls through the floor of a cheap motel. But the one that everybody online seems to be talking about is a flashback of an Auschwitz story told by Marty’s friend and fellow ping-ponger Béla Kletzki (Géza Röhrig, best known for his role as a Sonderkommando in Son of Saul).
Kletzki tells the unsympathetic ink tycoon Milton Rockwell (Kevin O’Leary) about how the Nazis, impressed by his table tennis skills, spared his life and recruited him to disarm bombs. One day, while grappling with a bomb in the woods, Kletzki stumbled across a honeycomb. He smeared the honey across his body and returned to the camp, where he let his fellow prisoners lick it off his body. The scene is a sensory nightmare, primarily shot in close-ups of wet tongues licking sticky honey off Kletzki’s hairy body. For some, it was also … funny?
Many have reported that the scene has been triggering a lot of laughter in their theaters. My audience in Wilmington, North Carolina, certainly had a good chuckle — with the exception of my mother, who instantly started sobbing. I sat in stunned silence, unsure at first what to make of the sharp turn the film had suddenly taken. One post on X that got nearly 6,000 likes admonished Safdie for his “insane Holocaust joke.” Many users replied that the scene was in no way meant to be funny, with one even calling it “the most sincere scene in the whole movie.”
For me, the scene shows the sheer desperation of those in the concentration camps, as well as the self-sacrifice that was essential to survival. And yet many have interpreted it as merely shock humor.
Laughter could be understood as an inevitable reaction to discomfort and shock at a scene that feels so out of place in what has, up to that point, been a pretty comedic film. The story is sandwiched between Marty’s humorous attempts to embarrass Rockwell and seduce his wife. Viewers may have mistaken the scene as a joke since the film’s opening credits sequence of sperm swimming through fallopian tubes gives the impression you will be watching a comedy interspersed with some tense ping-pong playing.
The reaction could also be part of what some in the movie theater industry are calling the “laugh epidemic.” In The New York Times, Marie Solis explored the inappropriate laughter in movie theaters that seems to be increasingly common. The rise of meme culture and the dissolution of clear genres (Marty Supreme could be categorized as somewhere between drama and comedy), she writes, have primed audiences to laugh at moments that may not have been meant to be funny.
The audience’s inability to process the honey scene as sincere may also be a sign of a society that has become more disconnected from the traumas of the past. It would not be the first time that people, unable to comprehend the horrors of the Holocaust, have instead derided the tales of abuse as pure fiction. But Kletzki’s story is based on the real experiences of Alojzy Ehrlich, a ping-pong player imprisoned at Auschwitz. The scene is not supposed to be humorous trauma porn — Safdie has called it a “beautiful story” about the “camaraderie” found within the camps. It also serves as an important reminder of all that Marty is fighting for.
The events of the film take place only seven years after the Holocaust, and the macabre honey imagery encapsulates the dehumanization the Jews experienced. Marty is motivated not just by a desire to prove himself as an athlete and rise above what his uncle and mother expect of him, but above what the world expects of him as a Jew. His drive to reclaim Jewish pride is further underscored when he brings back a piece of an Egyptian pyramid to his mother, telling her, “We built this.”
Without understanding this background, the honey scene will come off as out of place and ridiculous. And the lengths Marty is willing to go to to make something of himself cannot be fully appreciated. The film’s description on the review-app Letterboxd says Marty Supreme is about one man who “goes to hell and back in pursuit of greatness.” But behind Marty is the story of a whole people who have gone through hell; they too are trying to find their way back.
Olivia Haynie is an editorial fellow at the Forward.
This story was originally published on the Forward.
Features
Paghahambing ng One-on-One Matches at Multiplayer Challenges sa Pusoy in English
Ang Pusoy, na kilala din bilang Chinese Poker, ay patuloy na sumisikat sa buong mundo, kumukuha ng interes ng mga manlalaro mula sa iba’t ibang bansa. Ang mga online platforms ay nagpapadali sa pag-access nito. Ang online version nito ay lubos na nagpasigla ng interes sa mga baguhan at casual players, na nagdulot ng diskusyon kung alin ang mas madali: ang paglalaro ng Pusoy one-on-one o sa multiplayer settings.
Habang nailipat sa digital platforms ang Pusoy, napakahalaga na maunawaan ang mga format nito upang mapahusay ang karanasan sa laro. Malaking epekto ang bilang ng mga kalaban pagdating sa istilo ng laro, antas ng kahirapan, at ang ganap na gameplay dynamics. Ang mga platforms tulad ng GameZone ay nagbibigay ng angkop na espasyo para sa mga manlalaro na masubukan ang parehong one-on-one at multiplayer Pusoy, na akma para sa iba’t ibang klase ng players depende sa kanilang kasanayan at kagustuhan.
Mga Bentahe ng One-on-One Pusoy
Simpleng Gameplay
Sa one-on-one Pusoy in English, dalawa lang ang naglalaban—isang manlalaro at isang kalaban. Dahil dito, mas madali ang bawat laban. Ang pokus ng mga manlalaro ay nakatuon lamang sa kanilang sariling 13 cards at sa mga galaw ng kalaban, kaya’t nababawasan ang pagiging komplikado.
Para sa mga baguhan, ideal ang one-on-one matches upang:
- Sanayin ang tamang pagsasaayos ng cards.
- Matutunan ang tamang ranggo ng bawat kamay.
- Magsanay na maiwasan ang mag-foul sa laro.
Ang simpleng gameplay ay nagbibigay ng matibay na pundasyon para sa mas kumplikadong karanasan sa multiplayer matches.
Mga Estratehiya mula sa Pagmamasid
Sa one-on-one matches, mas madaling maunawaan ang istilo ng kalaban dahil limitado lamang ang galaw na kailangan sundan. Maaari mong obserbahan ang mga sumusunod na patterns:
- Konserbatibong pagkakaayos o agresibong strategy.
- Madalas na pagkakamali o overconfidence.
- Labis na pagtuon sa isang grupo ng cards.
Dahil dito, nagkakaroon ng pagkakataon ang mga manlalaro na isaayos ang kanilang estratehiya upang mas epektibong maka-responde sa galaw ng kalaban, partikular kung maglalaro sa competitive platforms tulad ng GameZone.
Mas Mababang Pressure
Dahil one-on-one lamang ang laban, mababawasan ang mental at emotional stress. Walang ibang kalaban na makaka-distract, na nagbibigay ng pagkakataon para sa mga baguhan na matuto nang walang matinding parusa sa kanilang mga pagkakamali. Nagiging stepping stone ito patungo sa mas dynamic na multiplayer matches.
Ang Hamon ng Multiplayer Pusoy
Mas Komplikado at Mas Malalim na Gameplay
Sa Multiplayer Pusoy, madaragdagan ang bilang ng kalaban, kaya mas nagiging komplikado ang laro. Kailangan kalkulahin ng bawat manlalaro ang galaw ng maraming tao at ang pagkakaayos nila ng cards.
Ang ilang hamon ng multiplayer ay:
- Pagbabalanse ng lakas ng cards sa tatlong grupo.
- Pag-iwas sa labis na peligro habang nagiging kompetitibo.
- Pagtatagumpayan ang lahat ng kalaban nang sabay-sabay.
Ang ganitong klase ng gameplay ay nangangailangan ng maingat na pagpaplano, prediksyon, at strategic na pasensiya.
Mas Malakas na Mental Pressure
Mas mataas ang psychological demand sa multiplayer, dahil mabilis ang galawan at mas mahirap manatiling kalmado sa gitna ng mas maraming kalaban. Kabilang dito ang:
- Bilisan ang pagdedesisyon kahit under pressure.
- Paano mananatiling focused sa gitna ng mga distractions.
- Pagkakaroon ng emosyonal na kontrol matapos ang sunod-sunod na talo.
Mas exciting ito para sa mga manlalarong gusto ng matinding hamon at pagmamalasakit sa estratehiya.
GameZone: Ang Bagong Tahanan ng Modern Pusoy
Ang GameZone online ay isang kahanga-hangang platform para sa mga naglalaro ng Pusoy in English. Nagbibigay ito ng opsyon para sa parehong one-on-one at multiplayer matches, akma para sa kahit anong antas ng kasanayan.
Mga feature ng GameZone:
- Madaling English interface para sa user-friendly na gameplay.
- Real-player matches imbes na kalaban ay bots.
- Mga tool para sa responsible play, tulad ng time reminder at spending limits.
Pagtatagal ng Pamanang Pusoy
Ang Pusoy card game in English ay nagpalawak ng abot nito sa mas maraming players mula sa iba’t ibang bahagi ng mundo habang pinapanatili ang tradisyunal nitong charm. Sa pamamagitan ng mga modernong platform tulad ng GameZone, mananatiling buhay at progresibo ang Pusoy, nakakabighani pa rin sa lahat ng antas ng manlalaro—mula sa casual enjoyment hanggang sa competitive challenges.
Mula sa maingat na pag-aayos ng mga cards hanggang sa pag-master ng estratehiya, ang Pusoy ay isang laro na nananatiling relevant habang ipinapakita ang masalimuot nitong gameplay dynamics na puno ng kultura at inobasyon.
Features
Rob Reiner asked the big questions. His death leaves us searching for answers.
Can men and women just be friends? Can you be in the revenge business too long? Why don’t you just make 10 louder and have that be the top number on your amp?
All are questions Rob Reiner sought to answer. In the wake of his and his wife’s unexpected deaths, which are being investigated as homicides, it’s hard not to reel with questions of our own: How could someone so beloved come to such a senseless end? How can we account for such a staggering loss to the culture when it came so prematurely? How can we juggle that grief and our horror over the violent murder of Jews at an Australian beach, gathered to celebrate the first night of Hanukkah, and still light candles of our own?
The act of asking may be a way forward, just as Rob Reiner first emerged from sitcom stardom by making inquiries.
In This is Spinal Tap, his first feature, he played the role of Marty DiBergi, the in-universe director of the documentary about the misbegotten 1982 U.S. concert tour of the eponymous metal band. He was, in a sense, culminating the work of his father, Carl Reiner, who launched a classic comedy record as the interviewer of Mel Brooks’ 2,000 Year Old Man. DiBergi as played by Reiner was a reverential interlocutor — one might say a fanboy — but he did take time to query Nigel Tufnell as to why his amp went to 11. And, quoting a bad review, he asked “What day did the Lord create Spinal Tap, and couldn’t he have rested on that day too?”
But Reiner had larger questions to mull over. And in this capacity — not just his iconic scene at Katz’s Deli in When Harry Met Sally or the goblin Yiddishkeit of Miracle Max in The Princess Bride — he was a fundamentally Jewish director.
Stand By Me is a poignant meditation on death through the eyes of childhood — it asks what we remember and how those early experiences shape us. The Princess Bride is a storybook consideration of love — it wonders at the price of seeking or avenging it at all costs. A Few Good Men is a trenchant, cynical-for-Aaron Sorkin, inquest of abuse in the military — how can it happen in an atmosphere of discipline.
In his public life, Reiner was an activist. He asked how he could end cigarette smoking. He asked why gay couples couldn’t marry like straight ones. He asked what Russia may have had on President Trump. This fall, with the FCC’s crackdown on Jimmy Kimmel, he asked if he would soon be censored. He led with the Jewish question of how the world might be repaired.
Guttingly, in perhaps his most personal project, 2015’s Being Charlie, co-written by his son Nick he wondered how a parent can help a child struggling with addiction. (Nick was questioned by the LAPD concerning his parents’ deaths and was placed under arrest.)
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None of the questions had pat answers. Taken together, there’s scarcely a part of life that Reiner’s filmography overlooked, including the best way to end it, in 2007’s The Bucket List.
Judging by the longevity of his parents, both of whom lived into their 90s, it’s entirely possible Reiner had much more to ask of the world. That we won’t get to see another film by him, or spot him on the news weighing in on the latest democratic aberration, is hard to swallow.
Yet there is some small comfort in the note Reiner went out on. In October, he unveiled Spinal Tap II: The Beginning of the End, a valedictory moment in a long and celebrated career.
Reiner once again returned to the role of DiBergi. I saw a special prescreening with a live Q&A after the film. It was the day Charlie Kirk was assassinated. I half-expected Reiner to break character and address political violence — his previous film, God & Country, was a documentary on Christian Nationalism.
But Reiner never showed up — only Marty DiBergi, sitting with Nigel Tuffnell (Christopher Guest), David St. Hubbins (Michael McKean) and Derek Smalls (Harry Shearer) at Grauman’s Chinese Theater in Los Angeles. The interview was broadcast to theaters across the country, with viewer-submitted questions like “What, in fact, did the glove from Smell the Glove smell like?” (Minty.) And “Who was the inspiration for ‘Big Bottom?’” (Della Reese.)
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DiBergi had one question for the audience: “How did you feel about the film?”
The applause was rapturous, but DiBergi still couldn’t get over Nigel Tuffnell’s Marshall amp, which now stretched beyond 11 and into infinity.
“How can that be?” he asked. “How can you go to infinity? How loud is that?”
There’s no limit, Tuffnell assured him. “Why should there be a limit?”
Reiner, an artist of boundless curiosity and humanity, was limitless. His remit was to reason why. He’ll be impossible to replace, but in asking difficult questions, we can honor him.
The post Rob Reiner asked the big questions. His death leaves us searching for answers. appeared first on The Forward.