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When their Jewish day schools closed, these teens had to learn to adjust

This article was produced as part of JTA’s Teen Journalism Fellowship, a program that works with Jewish teens around the world to report on issues that affect their lives.
(JTA) — There had been hints of money trouble: no ink in the printers, no supplies in the maker space, teacher complaints. But Sion Cohen never imagined that her high school, The Idea School in Tenafly, New Jersey, would be closing mere months before the start of her senior year.
Almost immediately after she heard the news, Cohen, 17, began making plans to graduate early. She enrolled in online classes and reached out to her school’s guidance department to ensure she had enough credits to graduate. If she couldn’t spend her senior year at her beloved school, she didn’t want to spend it anywhere.
Mia Eskin, 13, was on the phone with her friends when a long email popped up on her cellphone. This is how she found out Gerrard Berman Day School, where she had attended for seven years, would be closing. Before she could hang up the call, she thought of all the things she would miss: the highly anticipated eighth grade Israel trip, spending every day with her friends that she had known since first grade and attending a school she considered home.
Cohen and Eskin are only two of over 130 students impacted by the recent closing of Jewish day schools in northern New Jersey. In 2021, Gerrard Berman Day School, a small K-8 community school in Oakland formerly affiliated with the Conservative movement, announced it would be closing after three decades. A year later, The Idea School, a project-based, queer-friendly Modern Orthodox school 25 miles away in Tenafly, also announced it would cease operations.
These closings left students with a difficult choice, forced to decide where and how to continue their Jewish and secular education.
This sudden change proved difficult for many students. Charlotte Barbach, 15, a freshman at Kinnelon High School, said that the closing took a toll on her mental health.
“I just broke down,” she said. “I was so sad. I started bawling in the car. It was really hard because I had been going to that school for like 10 years.”
Barbach took the closing as a chance to try something new and chose to attend public school. She said the transition was difficult at first, but she now considers her new school home.
Leo Milch and their friends at an ice cream truck at The Idea School on the last day before it closed. (Courtesy)
“The first day was a little rough,” Barbach said. “But once I made a good group of friends, it was pretty good.”
Both of the schools cited decreasing enrollment and money concerns as the main reasons for not returning the following school year.
Paul Bernstein, the CEO of Prizmah, an organization that provides resources for day schools, did not have specific information about these closings but said in general, most day schools close for similar reasons.
“The primary underlying cause tends to be when the local Jewish community is shrinking or relocating to new neighborhoods, and it reaches a point where it can no longer sustain its existing infrastructure,” Bernstein said.
A national survey of Jewish day schools by Prizmah in December 2022 found that two-thirds of enrollments have either grown or remained stable over the previous year. Most of the thriving schools are in the northeast and southwest, according to Prizmah. However, that leaves 34% of schools surveyed that reported a decrease in enrollment last year.
A census of day schools by the Avi Chai Foundation, completed in 2019, found that the vast majority of day school students are enrolled in Orthodox schools — including 68 percent enrolled in haredi, or fervently Orthodox, schools. The survey also showed that student enrollment in non-Orthodox schools declined by 16.6 percent over the previous 20 years and fell 9 percent in the previous five years alone.
“Jewish day schools are a fundamental part of a Jewish community,” Bernstein said. “When a day school closes, the whole community ecosystem is impacted.”
Many students from the closed schools now attend Golda Och Academy, 30 miles away from Gerrard Berman Day School and close to an hour from The Idea School. The school, with roots in the Conservative movement, welcomed 15 former Gerrard Berman Day School students and 14 Idea School students in the 2022 and 2023 school years respectively, according to Sari Allen, Golda Och admissions director. Other students attend area Jewish day schools including The Frisch School, Solomon Schecter of New Milford, Yeshivat Noam, Gottesman Academy or their respective public schools.
Especially for students from The Idea School, the transitions were slightly more difficult because of the schools’ unique collaborative model and small class size.
Yahkir Scholsberg, a junior at Golda Och, said the unique outlook on Judaism, with much space for conversation and ability to discuss doubts and struggles freely, is something he loved about the Idea School.
“I’ve had some of the most fascinating discussions about Judaism [at The Idea School],” he said.
He said he has had some similar conversations at his new school, but The Idea School model allowed for more frequent and open conversation.
Scholsberg also had to adapt to the new curriculum at his new school. Golda Och, a school with more than 30 students in each grade, cannot personalize learning to each student the way that The Idea School, with around 15 students in each grade, was able to. He said that now is waiting until college for that level of customization and ability to focus specifically on the subjects he is passionate about.
Some students are discovering the benefits of their new school. Leo Milch, a first-year student when The Idea School closed, said Golda Och’s larger size provides them with more opportunities to learn from other students.
Sion Cohen, top left, with her class at The Idea School, a small, project-based Jewish day school that closed in 2022. (Courtesy)
“I feel like it just kind of opened me up to different ideas and different sides of how people think,” they said.
Milch said the welcoming culture at The Idea School caused them to be very open about any problems they were facing, but keep more to themselves at their new school.
“Last year I was more open,” they said. “I have definitely toned down certain aspects of myself to fit in.”
For Cohen, who graduated early after The Idea School closed and now attends Kean University, the path to finding a new home after the Jewish day school closed was difficult. She took extra classes on her own to fulfill requirements and spoke weekly with the college’s admissions office. While this was not the path she originally imagined, she said it made her realize the value of education, over a university’s name recognition or image.
“The hardest part about graduating early and having my options limited was realizing that it doesn’t matter where you go,” she said. “It matters that you get a good education and that you’re happy.”
Eliana Nahomove, now a 9th grader at The Frisch School, said that starting a new school at the start of her high school career gave her a sense of closure.
“You can’t go back, you just have to move forward,” she said.
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The post When their Jewish day schools closed, these teens had to learn to adjust appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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When Did the Current Wave of Antisemitism Begin?

Jewish-American Wall Street journalist Daniel Pearl. Photo: Screenshot
JNS.org – In nearly 30 years of writing and speaking about global antisemitism, I’ve been asked more than once if it’s possible to pinpoint when this present wave of hatred first reared its head. It’s a question that takes on added significance in the wake of the Oct. 7, 2023 Hamas pogrom in Israel—the event that continues to drive the topic of antisemitism to the top of the headlines around the world.
Of course, antisemitism never faded away entirely, as most Jews know all too well. The decades that followed the Allied victory over Nazi Germany, whose 80th anniversary we marked last week, ushered in an unprecedented age of empowerment for the Jewish people. In most of the Diaspora (the Soviet Union and the Arab states being glaring exceptions), the civil and political rights of Jewish communities were enshrined, bolstered by the widely shared taboo on antisemitic rhetoric and activity that coalesced alongside revelations of the horror of the Nazi concentration camps. More importantly, for the first time in two millennia, the Jews finally achieved their own state, with armed forces that proved eminently capable of defeating the threats to Israel’s existence from around the region.
We had been, in the parlance of the early theorists of Zionism, “normalized”—or at least we thought as much.
The age of empowerment was not a golden age. Jews still languishing in the Soviet Union were persecuted and forbidden to make aliyah. The flourishing of multiple armed Palestinian organizations after the 1967 war subjected Israelis and Diaspora Jews to terrorist outrages, among them airplane hijackings and gun attacks on synagogues. The United Nations, whose General Assembly passed a 1975 resolution equating Zionism with racism, became the main incubator of the loathing directed at Israel. The brief postwar honeymoon between the Jews and the political left ended around the same time, replaced with the defamatory barbs about “apartheid” and “Zionist racism” that still plague us today.
Even so, at the turn of this century, there was a notable deterioration. For much of the 1990s, the conflict between Israel and the Palestinians had seemed close to resolution, symbolized by the brief handshake on the White House lawn between the late Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin and PLO leader Yasser Arafat. But in 2000, five years after Rabin was assassinated in Tel Aviv, Arafat launched a second intifada against Israel, and the old hardline positions were reinstated. Much of the world followed Arafat’s cue, as demonstrated at the U.N.’s 2001 conference against racism in Durban, South Africa, held a few days before the Al-Qaeda atrocities in the United States on Sept. 11. There, NGOs and governments alike berated Israel, and Jewish delegates were subjected to the kind of abuse (“Hitler was right”) that has become all too common in the present day.
In tandem with the collapse in relations between Israel and the Palestinians, antisemitism returned with a vengeance, particularly in Europe, spurred by an unholy alliance of Islamist organizations rooted in the continent’s various Muslim communities, and a far left baying for Israeli and American blood after 9/11. It was in Pakistan, however, that the murder that came to symbolize this new reality occurred.
At the end of January 2002, Wall Street Journal reporter Daniel Pearl, an American Jew, was abducted from a hotel in Karachi by Islamist terrorists. A few days later, video surfaced online (at that time, the technology was still novel) of Pearl’s savage execution. After uttering his final words—“My father is Jewish, my mother is Jewish, I am Jewish”—Pearl was beheaded on camera by his captors.
To my mind, his sickening fate signaled the beginning of the revived trend that Jews are still confronting. I say that because this wasn’t a case of ugly rhetoric or graffiti, a smashed window or even an unsuspecting Jewish passerby getting punched in the face. This was a cold-blooded, ideologically driven murder that exposed the lethal violence that lurks inside every committed Jew-hater.
Last week, one of the terrorists involved in Pearl’s kidnapping and murder was reportedly eliminated during the Indian airstrikes on Pakistan undertaken in response to the killing of 26 civilians by Pakistani-backed terrorists in Kashmir on April 26. Abdul Rauf Azhar was a leader of the Jaish e-Mohammad terror organization who collaborated in Pearl’s abduction with fellow terrorists Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, one of the planners of the 9/11 attacks; and Omar Saeed Sheikh, a Pakistani national who grew up in England and briefly studied at my alma mater, the London School of Economics, before dropping out. Along with the murder of Pearl, Azhar was responsible for the 1999 hijacking of an Indian passenger plane, as well as attacks on the Indian parliament and an Indian army base in 2001 and 2016, respectively.
The significance of Azhar’s elimination now, when antisemitism is raging with far greater intensity than at the time of Pearl’s killing, should not be lost on anyone. During the 23 years that separate the deaths of Pearl and Azhar, Jews have endured insults and vandalism, assault and even murder. Much of this has tracked the troughs and peaks of conflict in the Middle East, especially the Second Lebanon War in 2006, and earlier wars in Gaza in 2008-09, 2014 and 2021.
Not all of the antisemitic outpouring is so closely connected. Some of the worst instances of hatred and violence, like the 2017 torture and murder of Sarah Halimi, an elderly Jewish woman living on her own in public housing in Paris, did not occur at a time of unusually high conflict in the Middle East. Rather, they were a consequence of the demonizing tropes and false claims about Jews that have become embedded in our culture over the course of this century.
We should feel a strong degree of satisfaction at the news that Azhar is dead and therefore unable to ruin the lives of other innocents like Daniel Pearl. However, that’s not the same as full justice, which would involve a comprehensive reckoning by politicians, influencers and thought leaders with the antisemitism that has stained our culture and our civilization. We know, more or less, where all this started. What we don’t know is where it will end.
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How One University Dealt with Pro-Hamas Protesters

Anti-Zionist protesters at Rutgers University, New Brunswick on December 23, 2023. Photo: Kyle Mazza via Reuters Connect
JNS.org – In the four academic semesters since Oct. 7, 2023, anti-Israel protests organized by Hamas sympathizers have overtaken some US colleges and tarnished the reputation of American academia. Ivy League schools have been particularly soiled by a combination of ignorant students, radical professors and weak administrations that coddle them.
On the contrary, the Rochester Institute of Technology in New York, where I teach, dealt with pro-Hamas, antisemitic protests differently. While many schools are destroying their brands, RIT fought back.
The RIT brand has always centered on innovative and creative uses of technology. The university prides itself on its career-driven, motivated students of engineering, imaging, and computer science, and more recently, game design, film and animation. It has US Army and Air Force ROTC programs, and various defense and military research, including funding from the Space Force.
Just as important as what RIT has is what it doesn’t; there is no Middle East Studies department and no Students for Justice in Palestine (SJP) chapter. The absence of the former protects us from the most educated Israel haters, while the absence of the latter protects us from the least educated Israel haters.
However, nearby are the University of Rochester and Syracuse University, which have both, so we are not immune to Israel haters.
Anti-Israel, pro-Hamas demonstrations seemed ubiquitous on college campuses almost immediately after Oct. 7, though RIT was spared such ugliness for a month. On the lookout for demonstrations, I was proud of students for not aping the antics of those at other colleges in the state. Nor were there any fliers around campus commenting on the war in the Gaza Strip or announcing upcoming protests.
On Oct. 13, I saw about a dozen masked people—some sporting keffiyehs—loitering on one of the green spaces, but there were no chants or signs. If this was a protest, then these were amateurs.
A month later, on Nov. 13, the pro-Hamas infection came to RIT. The Muslim Students Association (MSA) held a demonstration during which protesters, many of them masked, openly cheered for the elimination of Israel, defended the Hamas murder-rape-decapitation massacre and called for an intifada “from New York to Palestine.” This was not the school I knew. The event was dominated by outsiders. Speakers were from the University of Rochester’s SJP chapter; the Party for Socialism and Liberation; and local, non-academic, anti-Israel organizations. The ringleader was Basem Ashkar, a local protester active in anti-Israel demonstrations since at least 2021.
Evidence of professional agit-prop organizations was visible in the protestors’ signs. Black lettering on a yellow background provided by the ANSWER Coalition proclaimed that “Resistance is justified when people are occupied.” Black lettering against a white background provided by the Party for Socialism and Liberation proclaimed that “Resistance against occupation is a human right!”
The crowd did not look like a typical gathering of the RIT students I have seen in the last 26 years. I wondered how many of those in attendance were paid professionals. One person who stood a head taller and looked decades older than most college students held a hand-written sign in Arabic that translated to “We will sacrifice ourselves for you, holy Aksa mosque. Freedom and independence for Jerusalem and Palestine.”
Shouts of Allahu Akbar (Arabic for “God is great”), the jihad battle cry, rang through the crisp November air, and sounds of ululating women reminded me of the infamous video of Palestinians in Jerusalem celebrating news of the Sept. 11, 2001 attacks in the United States as their loathsome leaders handed out candy to children.
At one point, protesters were led in an Arabic chant that former PLO leader Yasser Arafat used to promote suicide bombings during the Second Intifada in Israel. The translation? “With our souls and blood, we will sacrifice for Al-Aqsa. With our souls and blood, we will sacrifice for Palestine. With our souls and blood, we will sacrifice for Gaza.”
I wondered how many students, gleefully repeating what someone had instructed them to chant, knew what they were saying.
I believed that the hostile and antisemitic protest constituted a violation of RIT policy, so I initiated a complaint. I had meetings with the provost, and eventually, the president about the event.
RIT’s lawyers determined that the “river to the sea” chant was protected speech open to interpretation. And since the MSA had permission for its protest, it was determined that no policy had been violated.
What happened next was remarkable among most college campuses, as far as I can tell. Instead of inaugurating a new era of campus unrest, that November protest was the last one of the year. As the spring 2024 semester turned into the semester of tent encampments throughout North America, there were no more protests at RIT.
In January 2024, rumors spread that the administration had rejected all subsequent petitions for protests. I wasn’t able to confirm those rumors. RIT’s provost, Prabu David, told me that a single attempt to set up an “encampment” was quickly dismantled, and the people pitching tents were immediately removed from campus.
David Munson, the university’s president, is retiring this week. I met with him in November to discuss the RIT protest and how to prevent more in the future. He told me that he believes “RIT has done a good job of navigating the area between free speech and harassment. It has been easier because of the kindness of our student body and the availability of local law enforcement.”
He discussed policy changes, such as setting a limit of six hours for any approved protest, so that RIT would not become an encampment campus. We discussed the troubles that RIT’s previous provost, Ellen Granberg, now president of George Washington University, faced during the academic year when she called the Metropolitan Police in Washington, D.C., to clear an encampment on April 26, 2024, and they refused to come. Munson told me that he knew the sheriffs in Monroe County, N.Y., would respond if he called.
The fall 2024 semester was quiet, and so, too, was this current spring semester—or it was until we returned from spring break in late March.
It started with a single person on March 21, “protesting” in a central location with a Palestinian flag and signs decrying the “genocide in Gaza,” urging RIT to “divest from death” and calling to “Free Khalil.” I called campus security, and the responding officers stopped it quickly and professionally.
On March 26, the same student, along with several others, was in the same spot with the same flag and signs. Again, I called campus security, and, again, they shut it down quickly.
On April 4, there were more protesters. One addressed me by name. When I asked why he was dressed like a jihadi on Halloween, he responded that he was protecting himself from doxxing. I called security, and for a third time, they shut it down. I have seen no evidence of any protests on campus since then.
The university’s president and provost have won the battle, but the war continues. As RIT prepares for a new administration and new president, it will have to watch for the disruptive and potentially illegal SJP front.
To complicate matters, there is now an “unofficial” chapter of SJP at RIT, using the school’s name and violating its brand. The group’s website proclaims that its goal is to “agitate, demonstrate and otherwise make our voices heard on the RIT campus.”
RIT’s struggle with pro-Hamas demonstrations shows that even when a university does what is right and necessary, it must maintain vigilance against the Jew-hatred of today’s anti-Israel demonstrators.
Like preventing dandelions from taking over a pristine lawn, keeping such protests at bay requires continual deterrence. There is no one-time, magical panacea.
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The Iran Nuclear Deal Trump Wants

Atomic symbol and USA and Iranian flags are seen in this illustration taken, September 8, 2022. Photo: REUTERS/Dado Ruvic/Illustration/File Photo
JNS.org – A fourth round of talks between Tehran’s envoys and Steve Witkoff, US President Donald Trump’s lead negotiator, did not take place in Rome over the weekend as had been expected.
Neither Tehran’s spokesmen nor the US State Department gave a clear explanation for why, but I’ll venture a guess: Iran’s rulers want concessions in exchange for continuing to talk.
They think Trump needs negotiations more than they do. Their assessment is based on years of palaver with presidents Obama and Biden.
Iranian Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei hopes that, concession by concession, he can convince Trump to embrace a warmed-over version of Obama’s Iran nuclear deal, the fatally flawed Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA), which Trump called “a horrible one-sided deal that should never, ever have been made.”
Sunday on “Meet the Press,” President Trump reiterated what he wants: “Total dismantlement [of Tehran’s nuclear weapons program]. That’s all I would accept.”
That means no uranium enrichment or reprocessing, and a halt to the regime’s development of missiles that can deliver nuclear warheads to American cities.
Witkoff is not a career diplomat. That may prove advantageous. Too often, career diplomats are overly eager to conclude deals because doing so brings them professional plaudits.
If those deals turn out to be bummers, so what? By then, the diplomats will have been promoted or awarded a professorship at an elite university where they can hold forth on The Art of Diplomacy.
That’s how North Korea became nuclear-armed after decades of negotiations and agreements.
That’s how Syria retained a stock of chemical weapons after the Obama administration claimed a Russian-mediated dialogue had brought about the destruction of the Assad regime’s CW arsenal.
The 2015 JCPOA is an especially egregious example. As Sen. Tom Cotton observed: “The deal didn’t block Iran’s path to the bomb; it paved the path.”
Obama argued that no one could have achieved a better deal than he had—an unfalsifiable argument. He also said that the only alternative to his deal was war—another unfalsifiable argument.
A policy of “peace through strength”—which was not Obama’s policy but is Trump’s—implies that your adversaries are more fearful of you than you are of them because they recognize your superior might and don’t doubt your willingness to act if push comes to shove.
To be fair, 10 years ago, Tehran had what was believed to be a first-rate missile-defense system supplied by Russia, and commanded powerful terrorist proxies throughout the Middle East and beyond.
You know what happened next: In 2017, Trump became president. The next year, he withdrew the United States from the JCPOA and began to impose serious strains on Iran’s economy.
On Jan. 3, 2020, Trump terminated with extreme prejudice Qassem Soleimani, the skillful commander of Iran’s elite Quds Force, responsible for killing hundreds of Americans and determined to kill hundreds more.
No war resulted and, by the end of that year, Tehran had just $4 billion in accessible foreign exchange reserves, limiting the support it could provide to Hezbollah, Hamas, Palestinian Islamic Jihad, its Shi’ite militias in Iraq and Syria, and the Houthi rebels in Yemen.
These effective policies came to a halt when Trump moved out of the White House and Biden moved in.
Hoping to seduce Iran’s rulers back into some version of the JCPOA, Biden gave them sanctions relief, pouring tens of billions of dollars into their coffers. He lifted the terrorist designation from the Houthi rebels.
Iran’s rulers smelled weakness, which did not mitigate their hostility toward “the Great Satan,” their determination to exterminate “the Little Satan” or their grand ambition to become the most powerful Islamic empire since the fall of the Ottomans.
Deploying thousands of advanced centrifuges, they expanded their nuclear weapons program, producing highly enriched uranium, and began the computer modeling necessary to make a nuclear warhead.
They sold oil to Beijing and drones to Russia for use in its war of aggression against Ukraine. Scores of attacks by Iran’s terrorist proxies in Iraq and Syria against American troops went unanswered by the Biden administration.
On Oct. 7, 2023, Hamas, bolstered by Iranian funds, weapons and training, invaded Israel and staged the worst massacre of Jews—and anyone who happened to be Jew-adjacent—since the Holocaust.
Since then, Israel has fought on multiple fronts. Hezbollah has been decimated. Tehran’s proxy in Syria has been overthrown.
Following two missile and drone attacks on Israel directly from Iranian soil in 2024, the Israeli Air Force destroyed most of Iran’s missile defense systems and severely degraded the regime’s ballistic missile production capability.
Iran’s rulers are now weaker and more vulnerable than they’ve been since the end of its war with Iraq in the 1980s.
President Trump has stated clearly: “We will not allow a regime that chants ‘Death to America!’ access to the most deadly weapons on earth.”
Others who support “dismantlement” include presidential advisers Marco Rubio, Pete Hegseth, Mike Waltz and the Senate Republican Conference, along with evangelical leaders.
So, too, does Witkoff. He has Trump’s ear and trust. If his Iranian interlocutors remain intransigent, there’s no reason for him not to report that to the president. No deal is better than a bad deal.
George Shultz, one of the most skillful American diplomats of the 20th century, left us this insight: “Negotiations are a euphemism for capitulation if the shadow of power is not cast across the bargaining table.”
Shultz had the experience and wisdom to recognize how the real world works. He understood that “peace through strength” is not just a catchy phrase. It’s a policy that must be implemented with confidence, courage and determination.
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