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A conveniently timed conference offers Israel educators a safe space to explore complex feelings
CHICAGO (JTA) – At one point ahead of an international conference on Israel education, as raucous anti-government protests filled the streets of Israeli cities, conference organizers considered leaning into the tension created by the news: What if they focused one day of the gathering on conflict, and the next day on hope?
Ultimately, they decided “you can’t divorce the two,” in the words of Aliza Goodman, one of the organizers.
“If you separate them, then it means one is devoid of the other and vice versa,” said Goodman, director of strategy and research and development for the iCenter, the Israel education organization that hosted the conference in Chicago in March.
Israel educators, Goodman said, need to hold “the complexities together with the hopes for us to be able to move forward as human beings.”
That emotional challenge lay at the center of the conference, the iCenter’s fifth, called iCON 2023. The conference covered standard topics in Israel education, ranging from Hebrew literature and language to representations of Jews and Israel in popular culture to a bevy of subtopics related to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.
But the turmoil that has rocked Israel this year felt no less prominent. In sessions and on the sidelines, the more than 500 participants discussed the Israeli government’s proposed judicial overhaul, its far-right cabinet ministers and the preservation of Israel’s democratic character.
Conference attendees said they faced dual challenges: understanding the political issues at play and reckoning with what they mean for teaching about Israel. Their thoughts on the current historical moment suggested that those challenges would persist even though Israel’s government announced a pause on the judicial overhaul shortly after the conference concluded.
“We are responsible for doing something, don’t get me wrong, but my immediate responsibility is trying to really get a handle on understanding it for myself and for my students,” said Rebecca Good, the assistant director of education at The Temple, a Reform synagogue in Atlanta.
Good has found herself fielding new questions about Israel, mostly from adult congregants, “but we know that the questions and the feelings that are coming from the adults naturally play out in the home,” she said. In response to the perceived need she has recognized from her students, her synagogue planned a town hall-style meeting that took place in late March.
“It’s almost like you do triage, right? When things like this happen, it’s like, ‘OK, how are you?’” Good said. “You have to address that first and then you figure out what is needed and try to make that happen for people.”
Conference attendees included Hebrew school and day school teachers, executives from communal organizations, summer camp professionals, campus activists, young adult Israeli emissaries and more. iCON Program Director Ari Berkowicz estimated that 75% of the conference participants came from North America and 24% from Israel. Others joined from places like Mexico and the United Kingdom.
Educator Noam Weissman addresses the audience at a session of ICON 2023 at the Marriott Marquis in Chicago, Illinois, March 15, 2023. (Rachel Kohn)
“One of The iCenter’s approaches to education is to make all that we teach and all that we learn about both timely and timeless, but the current moment obviously has an impact on who we are as educators and who we are as learners,” said Berkowicz. While the sessions scheduled for iCON 2023 remained mostly unchanged, the facilitators, speakers, and educators were “different people” from what they had been three or six months ago due to the upheaval in Israel, he said.
“They aren’t the same people that they were even yesterday or two days ago,” Goodman added in an interview at the conference. “All of this is impacting them at the core.”
Questions and anguish about the judicial overhaul — and other Israeli government policies – filtered into the conference programming. A campus professional, who asked not to be identified because she wasn’t authorized by her employer to speak to the press, shared a practical concern during a breakout group: If the government follows through on its call to limit the Law of Return, which currently affords automatic Israeli citizenship to anyone with one Jewish grandparent, what should she say to a student who wants to go to Israel but no longer falls under the government’s revised definition of who is a Jew?
In a nearby group, an Israeli expat from Dallas named Meirav said she likes that Israel doesn’t separate between religion and state. But she fears for women’s rights under a religiously conservative regime.
Another group endeavored to understand the specifics of the proposed judicial overhaul, comparing newspaper articles with Wikipedia text as they struggled to confirm how judges are appointed in Israel.
“It’s not only in America or everywhere else – I’m not sure everyone in Israel understands exactly what’s going on and the ramifications,” said Etty Dolgin, the Israeli-American principal of a Chicago-area Hebrew-immersion preschool and after-school program, in a different session. “I don’t know that anybody really knows what the ramifications are going to be.”
Former Jewish day school principal Noam Weissman, whose lecture at the conference drew a standing-room-only crowd of some 150 people, said in an interview that the current moment is an important one for Israel educators to be able to contextualize.
“Part of why cultural literacy is important is because history informs the present,” Weissman said. “People like to jump to judicial reforms, but if people don’t know about Israel’s lack of a constitution, it’s hard to be conversant in that.”
Weissman, the former head of Los Angeles’ Shalhevet High School who is now executive vice president of OpenDor Media, where he develops educational content on Judaism and Israel, said in his session that the goal of Israel educators shouldn’t be defending the country but “understanding and connecting.” He’s grateful, he said, that “the Israel education world has really, from a professional perspective, moved on from hasbara,” a Hebrew term for public relations or advocacy on Israel’s behalf.
“When someone recently said to me, ‘I don’t envy Israel educators at this moment’ … I actually said I feel zero pressure,” Weissman told his audience. “You feel pressure when you’re trying to defend everything Israel does. That’s the world of Israel advocacy, where you train young people to defend Israel. … If my job is to defend something that I have no interest in defending, this doesn’t work.”
Good said she appreciated the “brain trust” of fellow Israel educators she gets to interact with at the conference. At the same time, she likened the sense of uncertainty she is feeling these days to the concerns many Americans have felt in recent years when looking at their own fraught political landscape.
“That kind of feeling we all get, like, ‘Where could this go?’” she said. “That’s as best as I can put it.”
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A decaying historic farmhouse finds a savior in Chabad
A Dutch Colonial home, just one of a handful of pre-Revolutionary War houses left in New York City, has been vacant and decaying for years. The windows are boarded up, signs warning against trespassing cover the property, and chunks of the ceiling are missing inside.
This historic landmark has an unlikely savior: Chabad, the global Lubavitch movement, which is planting one of its thousands of outposts there.
“Dilapidated is an understatement,” Rabbi Zalman Liberow of Chabad of Flatbush said as he gave the Forward a tour.
Chabad of Flatbush, led by Liberow and his wife, Chana, bought the historic Brooklyn property in December 2024 and will soon begin renovations to make the place livable. In the meantime, the couple has already transformed the barnhouse next door into a sanctuary, where a photo of the Lubavitch rebbe hangs on the wall near a compartment once used to store hay.
As other Jewish organizations have shifted toward digital community, Chabad has continued investing heavily in brick-and-mortar real estate, ranging from modest suburban homes to multimillion-dollar towers and converted landmarks. It’s a strategy that anchors Chabad in the communities it serves, but can also be costly: For the most part, Chabad couples — each unit headed by a rabbi and rebbitzin — finance their own operations, raising their own money to buy homes and establish centers of Jewish life.
The Liberows said a generous donation of Bitcoin from a donor, Eliot Stavrach, ultimately allowed them to purchase the 22,000 square foot lot for roughly $3 million, along with securing a high-interest loan to pay the mortgage while the couple awaited the sale of their old headquarters down the street. Last week, that transaction went through and reaped nearly $1.1 million.
The seller had also cut the asking price by nearly half, offloading what had become a white elephant, Liberow said.
“For him, it was a pain. For us, it was good,” Liberow said. “And I thought, even better, this is such an important piece of United States history.”
The prior landlord had reportedly struggled to find a buyer for the landmarked home, which by law cannot be demolished, and any alterations to the facade must be pre-approved by the city Landmarks Preservation Commission. In buying the home, the Liberows are also preventing its further deterioration — to the relief of neighbors who said the abandoned site had become a hotspot for drug use and a symbol of neglect.
“I’m just happy that the house will not be torn down and will actually have a future — a good one, it seems,” said Lori Citron Knipel, a former leader in the Brooklyn Democratic Party who used to frequent the house. “So that absolutely warms my heart, because it’s been breaking every time I pass it.”
The house’s history
The Wyckoff-Bennett Homestead is likely among the ten oldest properties in Brooklyn and the 50 oldest houses in all of New York City, according to Simeon Bankoff, former executive director of the Historic Districts Council.
A 1968 report from the Landmarks Preservation Commission noted that “two hundred years of wear have done little to diminish the simple beauty of its clear-cut profile,” and described it as “the most beautiful example of Dutch Colonial architecture in Brooklyn.”
The house is also notable for its role in the Revolutionary War: During the conflict, it quartered German soldiers fighting for the British, known as Hessians. Two of the soldiers etched their names and units into a windowpane.
A historical marker at the house notes that those troops may have taken part in the Battle of Brooklyn, the first major battle after the signing of the Declaration of Independence.
According to Liberow, local legend holds that George Washington once stopped at the Wyckoff-Bennett house for tea — though, “we never did find the teacup,” he joked.
Bankoff attributed the properties’ staying power partly to the fact that prior to a venture called 22nd Street Investors LLC purchasing the lots in 2021, the property had only ever been owned by three families over more than 250 years.
Hendrick H. Wyckoff, son of a Dutch settler who emigrated to New Amsterdam in 1637, is believed to have built the house before 1766. In 1835, Cornelius W. Bennett purchased it, and it remained in the Bennett family for four generations before a Jewish couple, Annette and Stuart Mont, bought the property in 1983.
‘A piece of Brooklyn’s history’
The Monts had a deep appreciation for the home’s history, Citron Knipel said, and often opened it to the community. They hosted political fundraisers, birthday parties, and even a wedding at the house, she said, and they welcomed school groups into their home for local history field trips.
Only the facade of the house is landmarked, making its preservation legally required. But the Monts also preserved its interior details, including furniture from the Wyckoffs and Bennetts, an ornate fireplace framed by decorative tiles depicting biblical scenes, and an antique Richardson & Boynton Co. stove.
“There’s a sense of being part of and having a responsibility to the rest of the community to preserve it and move it forward,” Stu said in the 2013 documentary Living in a Landmark.
“And share it,” Annette added. “Because we have bought a piece of Brooklyn’s history.”
But an effort to secure the home’s legacy fell apart in 2010. The Monts had been in talks with the city to purchase the property, only to withdraw after the city reduced the sale price, deducting the rent the Monts theoretically would have paid to continue living there.
Annette died in 2013 at age 72, and Stuart died three years later at age 76. Their children, Ira and Randi Mont, sold the property to 22nd Street Investors LLC, registered to real estate investor Avraham Dishi, in 2021.
In an interview with the Forward, Ira Mont said he believed at the time of sale that 22nd Street Investors LLC would keep the house in good condition — and was disappointed that they ultimately did not.
Dishi drew two complaints for failing to maintain the Wyckoff Bennett house: one for the poor condition of the fence, still active, and another for the condition of the facade and roof, later withdrawn.
Officials at a Landmarks Preservation Commission hearing in March to discuss the Liberows’ minor proposed changes to the home noted there had been “all kinds of vandalism, fires, squatters, [and] drug users” there in recent years.
The Forward reached Dishi’s office by phone and left a message, but did not hear back.
Liberow said he has big plans for the house pending approval from the Landmarks Preservation Commission, including displaying a video in the front yard highlighting Jewish history in the United States. The Commission has already approved plans to install porch railings, a curb cut and a driveway at the site. And like the Motts, the couple plans to open the space up to the public. They’ve already begun hosting Hebrew school and holiday gatherings in the barnhouse next door, which they renovated for about $200,000 with rustic touches including wood paneling, barrels, lanterns and candle chandeliers.
For neighbors, the most meaningful change may simply be that the property is occupied at all.
“We got a very big welcome over here, because everyone’s so happy,” Liberow said. “Someone is going to save the property.”
The post A decaying historic farmhouse finds a savior in Chabad appeared first on The Forward.
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A staggering act of antisemitic hate proves the danger of Israel’s death penalty
A recent pro-Palestinian rally in Montreal featured something shocking: hanging effigies of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, United States President Donald Trump, and Israeli National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir. They were the latest nauseating reminder that calling for executions only feeds the cycle of violence — a reminder that Israel itself needs, after the Knesset enacted two laws calling for the death penalty for terrorists.
There is no excuse for the antisemitic horror of this recent display in Canada, where I live. But there is also no doubt that Israel’s new death penalty laws will only ripen the environment in which this insidious kind of hate takes root and festers. The fact that the executed effigies of Ben-Gvir and Netanyahu both wore the same noose lapel pin that Ben-Gvir wore as he championed these death penalty laws through the Knesset underscores this point.
The lesson is simple: calls for death only fuel the urge for more killing.
This was made apparent by Hamas’ reciprocal call for violence against IDF soldiers in response to the death penalty acts. It is for this reason — the simple truth that killing tends to beget more killing — that Elie Wiesel prophetically warned of capital punishment: “Death should never be the answer in a civilized society.”
An affront to humanity
The Canadian effigies — captured in videos posted on social media — are now the subject of a hate crimes investigation, and drew widespread condemnation from local and provincial politicians across Canada, as well as Jewish groups. Montreal4Palestine, the group that hosted the mobilization where the effigies were filmed, wrote on Instagram in response that it “strongly condemns the defamatory accusations and deliberate distortion of events” and said that it has “stood firmly against all forms of hate, including antisemitism.”
The effigies, the group added, “were directed specifically at political figures” and were not “intended to represent Judaism, Jewish people, or any religious, ethnic, or identifiable community.”
What Montreal4Palestine missed, while advocating in its statement for “values of human dignity,” is the reality that any call for execution runs counter to those values.
Intention and effect
This holds true across countries and ideologies: once killing is legitimized, it becomes hard to control.
Montreal4Palestine should have understood that pretending to execute politicians who have called for executions can only raise the temperature, not lower it. Using this same principle, Israel could, perhaps, have anticipated that Hamas leadership would call for the kidnapping of IDF soldiers in response to the death penalty laws. That development only confirms a fear that opponents of Israel’s renewed execution push have articulated time and again: that these laws will jeopardize the safety and security of Jews across the globe.
In the document that was published by Israeli Public Broadcaster KAN News, Hamas leadership stated clearly that it is planning to intensify efforts to kidnap Israeli soldiers, describing such action as the only effective means of securing the release of Palestinian prisoners who might otherwise face the death penalty in Israel.
Hamas described one of the death penalty laws as a “fascist law.” The group also warned that if Israel were to execute any Palestinian prisoners, the result could be more clashes between Hamas and Israeli soldiers in Gaza. “Any harm to the life of a prisoner is an explosive that will lead to the eruption of a volcano,” the letter read.
A chance to turn back
There is still a chance to avoid this escalation. The Israeli Supreme Court will soon debate the legality of the first of the death penalty laws. If the Supreme Court fails to repeal the act, the ensuing executions will stain the moral fabric of Israeli society, and antisemitic extremists will assuredly blame all Jews for the escalation in Israeli state violence.
It will be yet another piece of data to fit into an already-warped view of Israel, and perhaps, as well, of Judaism. For some, that may be all it takes to replace hanging effigies with attacking human beings.
If repeal at the Supreme Court level succeeds, however, it could also set a precedent for the eventual repeal of the second death penalty law, which specifically targets convicted terrorists who carried out the reprehensible Oct. 7, 2023 massacres across Israel.
Repealing both laws would help to lower the global temperature. It would make Jews safer in Israel, in Montreal, and everywhere.
For this reason, amid many others, the Israeli Supreme Court must act. It must forcefully encourage Israel to return to the civilized, abolitionist path for which Wiesel called. Only then can we begin to halt the seemingly endless cycle of violence and killing.
The post A staggering act of antisemitic hate proves the danger of Israel’s death penalty appeared first on The Forward.
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A guide to the Corpus interviews with European native Yiddish speakers
דאָס איז איינער פֿון אַ סעריע קורצע אַרטיקלען אָנגעשריבן אױף אַ רעלאַטיװ גרינגן ייִדיש און געצילעװעט אױף סטודענטן. די מחברטע איז אַלײן אַ ייִדיש־סטודענטקע. דאָ קען מען לײענען די פֿריִערדיקע אַרטיקלען אין דער סעריע.
אַ דאַנק דעם נײַעם „קאָרפּוס פֿון דער ייִדישער שמועסשפּראַך אין אײראָפּע“ (קיש״אָ) קענען ייִדיש־סטודענטן אינטעראַקטיװ פֿאָרשן װידעאָ־אינטערװיוען מיט כּמעט 200 געבױרענע ייִדיש־רעדערס װאָס האָבן איבערגעלעבט דעם חורבן.
פֿאַרשטײט זיך, אַז אַזאַ עדות־זאָגן פֿון לעבן געבליבענע איז רײַך מיט היסטאָרישער אינפֿאָרמאַציע װעגן דעם ייִדישן לעבן פֿאַר, בעת און נאָכן חורבן. ווי עס שרײַבט דזשעפֿרי שאַנדלער אין דעם אַרטיקל, קאָנצענטרירט זיך דער קאָרפּוס אָבער, דער עיקר, אױף שפּראַך־ענינים — אױף װי אַזױ די שמועסשפּראַך װאַרפֿט אַ שײַן אױפֿן אַמאָליקן טאָגטעגלעך ייִדיש איבער מיזרח־אײראָפּע. אַזאַ טראָפּ לײגט זיך אױפֿן שׂכל, װײַל דער פּראָיעקט איז געװען די המצאה פֿון אײַזיק בלימאַן, אַ פּראָפֿעסאָר פֿון לינגװיסטיק אין בערקלי אוניװערסיטעט.
די װידעאָ־אינטערװיוען אינעם קאָרפּוס שטאַמען פֿונעם אַרכיװ פֿון דער װיזועלער געשיכטע, װאָס איז אַ טײל פֿון דער שואה־פֿונדאַציע בײַם דרום־קאַליפֿאָרניער אוניװערסיטעט. ס׳רובֿ פֿון די ווידעאָס האָט מען רעקאָרדירט אין די 1990ער יאָרן, װען אַ גרױסע צאָל פֿון דער שארית־הפּליטה האָט נאָך געלעבט. דער פֿונדאַציע־אַרכיװ באַשטײט פֿון טױזנטער אינטערװיוען אױף פֿאַרשײדענע שפּראַכן; דערווײַל באַטרעפֿט דער קאָרפּוס 172 פֿון די ייִדיש־שפּראַכיקע אינטערװיוען. אַרום די דאָזיקע ווידעאָס האָט בלימאַן געשאַפֿן דיגיטאַלישע מכשירים, װאָס ייִדיש־סטודענטן קענען ספּעציעל געניסן דערפֿון.
דאָ האָט מען צוטריט צו די אינטערװיוען פֿונעם קאָרפּוס. זײ זענען אַלפֿאַבעטיש אױסגעסדרט לױטן משפּחה־נאָמען פֿונעם רעדער. אין דער רשימה נעמען זעט מען אַ בילד פֿון יעדן מענטש צוזאַמען מיט זײַן געבױרן־אָרט אױף ייִדיש און ענגליש, זײַן מין און זײַן עלטער בעת דעם אינטערװיו. אַ „קאָד“ װײַזט אָן װאָסער ייִדיש־דיאַלעקט זײ רעדן׃ צפֿון־מיזרח־ייִדיש (NEY), צענטראַל־ייִדיש (CY), אָדער דרום־מיזרח־ייִדיש (SEY). מען קען אױך אַ זוך טאָן לױטן רעדערס נאָמען, געבױרן־אָרט, מין אָדער דיאַלעקט.
װען מען גיט אַ קוועטש אױפֿן קנעפּל פֿון אַן אינטערװיו באַקומט מען װײַטערדיקע אינפֿאָרמאַציע װעגן דעם רעדער, אַרײַננעמנדיק מאַפּעס מיט זײער געבױרן־אָרט און אינטערװיו־אָרט. יעדער אינטערװיו ווערט באַגלייט מיט ייִדישע אונטערקעפּלעך. די דאָזיקע אונטערקעפּלעך זענען ניט געשאַפֿן געװאָרן פֿון אײ־אײַ, אָבער פֿון אַ קלײנער גרופּע מומחים. פֿאַרשטײט זיך אַז אַזאַ פֿאַרלאָזלעכער אָנשפּאַר איז גאָר נוצלעך פֿאַר סטודענטן. איך אַליין האָב זיך צוגעהערט צו אַ פּאָר אינטערװיוען אָן די ייִדישע אונטערקעפּלעך (כ׳האָב פֿאַרמאַכט די אױגן, אָבער מע קען אױך „באַהאַלטן“ די אונטערקעפּלעך דורכן קוועטשן אַ קנעפּל) און אַ צווייט מאָל — מיט זײ. אָן אַ ספֿק האָב איך פֿאַרשטאַנען אַ סך מער מיט זײ. די אונטערקעפּלעך זענען אַגבֿ ניט איבערגעזעצט אױף ענגליש — מען קען זײ לײענען בלויז אױף ייִדיש.
אונטער יעדן װידעאָ געפֿינט זיך אַ טאַבעלע מיט די טראַנסקריפּציעס, אױף אַ בלױען הינטערגרונט. יעדע פֿראַזע איז אַ פֿאַרבינדונג אױף די דאָזיקע װערטער אינעם װידעאָ. דערווײַל זענען די טראַנסקריפּציעס אין דער טאַבעלע מערסטנס אױף לאַטײַנישע אותיות, כאָטש אין עטלעכע פֿאַלן קען מען אױך אױסקלײַבן ייִדישע אותיות. מיט דער צײַט װעט מען אָפֿטער האָבן אַ ברירה.
װײַטער אונטן קען מען אַראָפּלאָדן אַן אױדיאָ־טעקע פֿונעם אינטערװיו, און אַ דאָקומענט מיטן גאַנצן טראַנסקריבירטן טעקסט. פֿאַרשטײט זיך אַז אױף דערװײַל זענען די טראַנסקריפּציעס, װי די אונטערקעפּלעך, מערסטנס אױף לאַטײַנישע אותיות.
נאָך אַ קאָרפּוס־מכשיר, װאָס הײסט די „װערטער מאַפּעס“, װעט ספּעציעל צוציִען סטודענטן װאָס פֿאַראינטערעסירן זיך אין דיאַלעקטן. איך אַליין װײס גאָרניט װעגן דעם, בין איך טאַקע פֿאַרכאַפּט געװאָרן דערפֿון. מען קען דאָרטן זוכן אַ ייִדיש װאָרט כּדי צו זען אין װעלכע אינטערװיוען דאָס װאָרט באַװײַזט זיך. דאָס געבױרן־אָרט פֿון די רעדערס װאָס ניצן דאָס װאָרט װײַזן זיך אַרױס אױף אַ מאַפּע. אַזױ באַקומט מען אַ רושם פֿון די געאָגראַפֿישע ראַיאָנען װוּ דאָס װאָרט איז געװען פֿאַרשפּרײט.
מען קען אױך פֿאַרגלײַכן צװײ װערטער אָדער נוסחאָות פֿון אַ װאָרט. איך האָב למשל פֿאַרגלײַכט „געבראַכט“ און „געברענגט“, װאָס זענען בײדע פֿאַרגאַנגענע פּאַרטיציפּן פֿון „ברענגען“. אױף דער מאַפּע האָב איך געזען אַז „געבראַכט“ באַװײַזט זיך זײער אָפֿט אין צפֿון־מיזרח־ייִדיש, און „געברענגט“ ניצט מען דער עיקר אױף צענטראַל־ייִדיש. דאָס זוכן װערטער פּאָרנװײַז איז טאַקע אַ ביסל אַדיקטיװ! ס’איז אָבער װיכטיק איבערצולײענען די אינסטרוקציעס כּדי צו פֿאַרשטײן די רעזולטאַטן.
דער קאָרפּוס שטעלט אױך צו אַן אינטעראַקטיװע היסטאָרישע מאַפּע. אױף דער מאַפּע געפֿינען זיך די געבױרן־ערטער פֿון די רעדערס: װען מען גיט אַ קוועטש אױף אַן אָרט זעט מען אַ פּינטל פֿאַר יעדן רעדער װאָס איז דאָרטן געבױרן געװאָרן — די פּינטלעך זענען דיגיטאַלישע פֿאַרבינדונגען צו די דאָזיקע אינטערװיוען. מען קען אױך זוכן דעם נאָמען פֿון אַ רעדער אָדער פֿון אַן אָרט אין אַ זוך־קעסטל.
דערצו געפֿינט זיך אונטער דער מאַפּע אַ קנעפּל װאָס מען קען רוקן כּדי צו זען װי אַזױ די פּאָליטישע גרענעצן האָבן זיך געענדערט מיט דער צײַט. מען קען אױסזומירן (zoom out, בלע״ז) כּדי צו זען גאַנץ אײראָפּע אָדער אײַנזומירן אױף אַ ספּעציפֿישן ראַיאָן. מען קען אױך אױסקלײַבן עטלעכע „שיכטן“ װאָס באַװײַזן זיך אױף דער מאַפּע, למשל די גרענעצן צװישן ייִדיש־דיאַלעקטן. נאָך אַ מאָל איז עס װיכטיק איבערצולײענען די „נאָטיצן“, װאָס דערקלערן די פֿאַרשײדענע ברירות.
אינעם אָפּטײל װאָס הײסט „גלאָסעס“ קען מען לײענען אַרטיקלען פֿון בלימאַן און די קאָרפּוס־טראַנסקריבירערס װעגן דער ייִדיש־פּעדאַגאָגיק, און װעגן דער שפּראַך אין די אינטערװיוען. כאָטש די אַרטיקלען זענען מסתּמא געצילעװעט אױף פֿאָרשערס און לערערס קענען זײ אױך פֿאַראינטערעסירן סטודענטן.
מיט דער צײַט װעט זיך דער קאָרפּוס פֿאַרגרעסערן און צושטעלן נאָך װײַטערדיקע אינטערװיוען און מכשירים. פֿאַרשטײט זיך אַז ער איז שױן אַ װיכטיקער רעסורס פֿאַר ייִדיש־סטודענטן. פֿאָרשט דאָס װעבזײַטל אַלײן — איר װעט זיך אַ סך דערוויסן.
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