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NYC public schools don’t have the final two days of Passover off next year. A petition is trying to change that.
(New York Jewish Week) – New York City educators and parents are protesting after the city announced that public schools would be open for part of Passover next year, breaking from a longstanding tradition.
The eight-day holiday has overlapped virtually every year with the city’s spring break since 1973, when Jewish teachers successfully lobbied to guarantee the alignment.
But next year, Easter and Passover are separated by three weeks, making it impossible for the city’s weeklong school recess to overlap with both of them. The school-year calendar released last Friday revealed that the NYC Department of Education had scheduled the final two days of the holiday, April 29 and 30, as school days.
Because those days are Jewish holidays, when certain activities are prohibited according to Jewish law, observant educators and students would not be able to attend. The departure from tradition has put those people in a difficult situation, in part because educators have limited flexibility to take days off under their union contract.
“I’m religious and I am required by my religion to take those days off, regardless of whether we have school or not,” Yocheved Diskind, an occupational therapist at a public school in West Harlem, told the New York Jewish Week. “So now I have to take two extra days off and I don’t get paid at all for them.”
Diskind is one of around 1,500 people to have signed a petition calling on the city to extend the spring recess to include the Passover holidays.
“At a time when the values of inclusion are under attack, respecting the full observance of the Passover holiday should not be dependent on its proximity to Easter on the calendar,” says the petition, whose first signatories are from the occupational and physical therapists’ chapter of the United Federation of Teachers.
The pushback comes at a moment when the structure of the school year is being contested on several fronts. In a bid for inclusion, the education department has recently added holidays from multiple traditions to the school calendar — including the Muslim holidays of Eid al-Fitr and Eid al-Adha; the Chinese Lunar New Year; Juneteenth and, potentially in the future, the Hindu festival of Diwali. Depending on how each holiday falls, the new days off can put pressure on the city to meet a 180-day minimum set by state law.
At the same time, the city education department and its teachers union negotiate annually over when teachers must work, and the city’s goal is to maximize the time that teachers are required to be in the classroom. Next year’s school calendar includes 185 required workdays for educators, including 182 instructional days, leaving some in the union concerned that members are being exploited.
“They used to build in an extra two or three days: In case they had to cancel for snow days, they would still reach 180 days. But since the pandemic, snow days are all remote days,” Diskind said. “So there’s no reason to build in even an extra two days into the calendar without extra compensation.”
The city, meanwhile, says it negotiated the new calendar with the union and that the holidays that are required contractually to be days off are. About the end of Passover, Nathaniel Steyer, the DOE press secretary, told the New York Jewish Week that the union “never ever brought this up” in negotiations about the calendar.
The UFT did not respond to repeated requests for comment by press time.
“There is no precedent for giving all days of Passover with a split,” Styer said in a statement. “There has been a split three times in recent memory — with the last night falling on the weekend. It is in our labor agreements that only the first two days of Passover and Good Friday are covered. Spring Recess is not in our labor contracts, but we generally attempt to cover most of Passover & Easter, when they are aligned on the calendar.”
New York City is among the rare school districts where Jewish holidays have been baked into the school-year calendar. For decades, the city had so many Jewish teachers and students that having classes on major Jewish holidays was a fool’s errand. The 1973 agreement around Passover came as the number of Jewish students and teachers was dwindling.
Now, the district has relatively few observant Jewish students; Orthodox schoolchildren in the city almost all attend private schools. But there are significant numbers of Orthodox education department employees, including in support services such as speech and occupational therapy. (The petition notes that students who attend school on Passover might have to do so without the support of these providers.) And the expectation not to have school on major Jewish holidays has largely survived, at times resulting in quirky calendars, such as a five-day gap between the first and second days of school in 2010.
The school calendar departed from the 1973 Passover agreement only once, in 1986, according to the petition. That year, Passover and Easter were not close in time, and adding two additional days off would have taken the district below the state requirement. Teachers then were given blanket approval to take the days as personal days, the petition says.
Diskind, the occupational therapist in West Harlem, explained that teachers could take the two days of Passover as personal days next year but would be left with only one discretionary day for the rest of the school year. They could also take time off without pay, an option that some Jewish educators exercise when other Jewish holidays fall on school days, but doing so has financial repercussions. (During the next school year, the fall Jewish holidays all land on weekends except for Yom Kippur, when schools are closed. Shavuot, the two-day spring festival, falls midweek in June.)
“Most people choose to take an unpaid day off because you generally need to use personal days for other reasons that would not be excused throughout the year,” Diskind said. “In the long term, unpaid days also require you to stay longer in order to reach your pension.”
Districts around the country have contended with how to accommodate religious observances — and not everyone believes the solution is ever to close schools at all.
David Bloomfield, an education professor who was a parent leader in New York City when his own children attended its public schools, told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency in 2020 that he thought districts should ramp up their protections for students and teachers who miss school for religious reasons instead of trying to adjust the calendar to please everyone.
“With the growth and sensitivity toward diversity, it’s one thing for a hermetic community to observe its traditions,” Bloomfield said. “But as we become more diverse, we have a harder time accommodating all of those important ceremonial obligations.”
“New York City is home to a diverse population, including 1.6 million Jews. People who celebrate Passover are a part of the rich fabric of our city,” says the petition. “The Passover holiday should not be an arena for givebacks and increased instructional days without compensation.”
“The proposed DOE calendar is especially disturbing in light of the increase in anti-Semitic rhetoric and attacks in recent years, particularly in New York City,” it also noted.
The number of anti-Jewish hate crimes in the first five months of the year was 100, according to data released this week by the New York Police Department, showing a 25% decline from 135 during the same period last year. Jews accounted for the victims of half of all hate crimes in the city last year and remain the most-targeted group, according to the police data; two men recently pleaded guilty to hate crimes related to a high-profile 2021 attack on a Jewish man who was beaten while walking to a pro-Israel rally.
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The post NYC public schools don’t have the final two days of Passover off next year. A petition is trying to change that. appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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The visionary Jewish poet who survived the Holocaust but not its aftermath
Paul Celan: A Life
By Anna Arno
Translated by Soren Gauger
Belknap Press/Harvard University Press, 416 pages, $35
During a 1969 poetry reading in Israel, Paul Celan’s audience requested “Deathfugue,” his most famous poem. With its hypnotic images of death as “a master from Deutschland,” prisoners drinking the “black milk of dawn” and smoke rising to “a grave in the clouds,” it remains one of the most powerful artifacts of the Holocaust.
But like a rock star weary of endlessly repeating his greatest hits, Celan declined. Instead, he offered other poems, scorned by some commentators as “hermetic, esoteric, divorced from reality.”
So we learn from Anna Arno’s intelligent, intricate biography, Paul Celan: A Life, ably translated from the Polish by Soren Gauger. Interweaving literary criticism with Celan’s life story, Arno quotes liberally from Pierre Joris’ English translations. Even so, she can’t quite do the work justice. In translation and wrenched from their poetic context, Celan’s innovative verses, credited with a radical remaking of the German language, come across as cryptic and impenetrable.
Arno covers Celan’s schooling, wartime experiences, work history, travels, friendships, psychiatric ordeals and overlapping romantic interests, at times departing from strict chronology. Though defensible, the narrative strategy renders the book somewhat convoluted.
One thread is Celan’s intermittent, decadeslong involvement with the accomplished Austrian poet and novelist Ingeborg Bachmann. That relationship, more passionate and enduring for Bachmann, preceded his mostly happy marriage to the French artist Gisèle Lestrange and continued during it. In an odd twist, Bachmann and Lestrange, bonded by both their love for Celan and their anxiety about his well-being, developed “a kind of impossible sisterly friendship.”
Despite Celan’s devotion to his wife, “other women,” Arno writes, “were always drifting through his life.” A chapter toward the end of the biography details some of Celan’s most important romantic relationships. Other chapters focus on his inventiveness as a translator and his worsening mental illness.
Celan was born Paul Antschel in 1920 in Czernowitz, Romania (officially Cernăuți, and now Chernivtsi, Ukraine) on the fringes of the recently defunct Austro-Hungarian Empire. The French-sounding Celan is a pen name, an anagram of Ancel, a Romanian version of Antschel.
Celan’s parents were German-speaking Jews, and German was Celan’s native language. But he was a polyglot, a talent that shaped his poetry and enabled his career as a translator. Along with Romanian, in which he wrote some early poems, and French, the language of his postwar life in Paris, he learned Russian (under Soviet occupation) and English. He had at least “a passive knowledge of Yiddish,” picked up enough Hebrew for his Bar Mitzvah and studied Italian, Latin and Greek. “His intellectual ease gave him a sense of superiority,” Arno writes.
World War II interrupted Celan’s medical studies in France, and back home he enrolled in Romance language courses. The Soviet occupation was brutal but, for Jews, the Romanian fascist regime that succeeded it was worse. Celan’s parents were deported and died in a Nazi labor camp. Celan, separated from them, survived forced labor, but remained “wracked with grief” over his parents’ fate. He would describe “Deathfugue,” written in 1945, as his mother’s epitaph and grave. The poem may have influenced Theodor Adorno, who famously described poetry after Auschwitz as “barbaric,” to modify his views.
After leaving a ruined Czernowitz for Bucharest, where Celan translated, wrote poetry, flirted with Surrealism and “bounced from one relationship to the next,” he traveled to Vienna. “Young, dashing, full of charm,” he eventually settled in Paris and became a naturalized French citizen. But he chose German as his poetic language, despite the emotional dissonance that entailed.
Over the years, he traveled to Germany to read his work and accept prizes. In the process, he developed relationships with leading postwar German writers, including Heinrich Böll, Hans Magnus Enzensberger and Günter Grass. But the 1950s were a tricky time. “He could have crossed paths with a murderer at every step,” Arno writes.
Celan recoiled viscerally at what he saw as persistent antisemitic currents in German culture, which hadn’t yet reckoned with the magnitude of Nazi crimes. He interpreted bad reviews as instances of antisemitism, and Arno suggests that he wasn’t always wrong.
Even more traumatic were accusations of plagiarism leveled against him by Claire Goll, the widow of Yvan Goll, whose poetry he had translated. Arno describes the charges as both malicious and baseless, and “probably an act of revenge for her spurned advances.”
They nevertheless affected Celan’s reputation and threatened his health. “Claire Goll’s smear campaign was to become the main cause of the poet’s mental breakdown,” Arno asserts. It’s a strong statement. Certainly, he had endured other losses: the murder of his parents, the death of his day-old infant son, François, after a botched delivery.
On the cusp of middle age, Arno reports, Celan experienced bursts of paranoia. “He could not always separate justified precautions from obsessive mistrust, vigilance from a fit of persecution mania,” she writes. “His deeply buried despair, moral severity, and tempestuous personality all caused sudden and violent fits.”
In 1962, he had what Arno calls “his first bout of psychosis,” which included hallucinations and violent episodes. He was hospitalized and medicated and underwent psychotherapy. Insulin injections, a since-discredited treatment, damaged his motor skills. Even during his hospitalizations, he continued to write poetry. (His productivity in the throes of mental health crises calls to mind Sylvia Plath.)
Arno, noting that Celan’s medical records remain sealed and his journals unavailable, doesn’t offer a diagnosis. The hallucinations and paranoia suggest schizophrenia, but Arno also mentions mania and depression, along with numerous suicide attempts. He tried his best to stay connected to his only child, Eric. But his instability cost him many friendships and ultimately his marriage.
In 1970, the 49-year-old poet drowned himself in the Seine, joining a sad company of writers who survived the Holocaust but not its emotional aftermath. What exactly triggered Celan’s suicide is impossible to know. Arno says only: “He was no longer capable of supporting the weight of the past as it flushed to the surface.”
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‘The Naked Woman’ asks — what would Jewish Chekhov look like?
Earlier this year, a lauded revival of Anton Chekhov’s overlooked opus Ivanov occasioned the question: What if Chekhov, that great chronicler of overeducated depressives, was a bit more Jewish?
That show has a substantial Jewish subplot, with the title character’s wife subjected to antisemitic smears.
For Jewish Russians, Chekhov, like his great interpreter Stanislavsky, is a part of the culture they still claim. For that reason expat companies, like Igor Golyak’s Arlekin Players, have long been in the business of reinterpreting him. Novelist Gary Shteyngart, in his pandemic novel, Our Country Friends, took things a step further, transmuting Chekhov’s dachas into the Belleville bungalow colony where he, and many ex-Soviet Jews, would summer.
Allie Avital and Alia Azamat Ashkenazi’s The Naked Woman, now in a limited run at 154 Theater, returns this proposition to the stage with some usual markers of the Russian master: characters brought low by their own inertia, a love triangle, frustrated ambitions and failures to launch. Into the mix they add the following staples of first generation Jews: immigrant parents’ expectations and the tension between the generation that recalls the weight of repression and the rising one that has only ever known American freedom. There are obligatory references to rabbis; the word “mensch” is dropped, but this is not a Shabbat-observing crew. If you know this specific demographic, there’s no doubting the affiliation.
Misha (Ilia Volok and Roman Freud alternate the role — Freud played him my evening), a successful architect, who moved to the U.S. decades before for a better life. For the New Year, and his birthday, he has made camp at his upstate country home. Some creaky exposition — on Pili Weeber’s set of floating timber, the Empire State’s answer to birch trees — sets up the interpersonal tensions that will go off in later acts like Chekhov’s proverbial gun.
Misha’s 35-year-old daughter Dasha (MaryKate Glenn) tells him his last check for her grad school tuition bounced. She’s there with her all-American boyfriend and is secretly pregnant. His bohemian older brother Grisha (Dima Koan), ever-clad in funky sweaters and kerchiefs by costume designer Kostya Goncharuk, resents Misha for their parents’ decision to only pay for his higher education and for being dependent on him for income. Rina (Natasha Goubskaya), Misha’s long-suffering wife is quietly working to save the family from financial ruin.
With these pieces set in place, the holiday is interrupted by, as advertised, a naked woman, screaming for help. Dismissing her as a “druggie in the woods,” Misha does nothing, a choice that brings questions of insularity and assimilation to the fore.
Dasha can’t get over her father’s inaction.
Rina explains it: “This American obsession with caring about strangers It’s all words and ideas. It’s THEATER. It doesn’t mean anything.”
The play is based on a short film by Avital, an accomplished director of visually-striking music videos for the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Olivia Rodrigo and Moses Sumney. In that more abridged version, with mostly Russian dialogue, the Naked Woman stands in for the forces of mortality.
As one character in that film notes, in Russian, the word for death is “in the feminine, and therefore death is a woman. When death doesn’t hide, doesn’t wear a disguise, then it’s naked.”
Here the character is a more elusive metaphor: an avatar for Misha’s selfishness, the rift between his and Dasha’s concern for others or maybe her perception of herself as vulnerable and in need of saving. She could also be Rina’s aching feeling of neglect.
Avital and Ashkenazi’s background in film — Ashkenazi has a long resumé as a script supervisor and directed the short Esther’s Choice — is evident in the drama’s pacing. The piece doesn’t have the patience of Chekhov, who lets the action settle around the samovar and steep in subtext. This makes the show more dynamic, but more superficial in its psychology.
“I’ve always wondered why no one can truly love me, why they always leave me,” Dasha tells her father, coming off a monologue that hits the ear like a stilted translation of The Seagull’s yearning actress Nina or Vanya’s tragically dutiful Sonya. “But now I understand why. Because I’m just like you.”
It’s a tidy thesis, from creatives whose film work lives on the power of suggestion, with cinematography and movement being the major narrative force. Though Avital’s staging is capable, the script is crying out for an injection of subtlety that perhaps only a closeup can deliver.
This play is something of a proof of concept for a forthcoming feature film to be directed by Avital. If the short is any indication, its words and ideas may translate better taking a step away from the theater.
It may not be the natural medium for Chekhov, but it’s well-suited to his heirs.
Allie Avital and Alia Azamat Ashkenazi’s The Naked Woman is playing through June 14 at Theatre 154 in Manhattan. Tickets and more information can be found here.
The post ‘The Naked Woman’ asks — what would Jewish Chekhov look like? appeared first on The Forward.
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Iran says it has finished striking Israel, after Trump says both countries ‘must immediately stop’
(JTA) — Iran says it has completed its attack on Israel after its missile barrage on Sunday night launched the first direct exchange of hostilities since April.
Iran’s military command said the barrage, which did not do any major damage in Israel, represented its “painful response” to an Israeli attack on a Hezbollah installation in Lebanon. The statement was published in English on Iranian state media, which attributed the halt to pressure from U.S. President Donald Trump.
Trump had denounced the Iranian strike and publicly urged Israel not to respond. On Monday morning, after it did, he posted on his Truth Social account: “Israel and Iran must immediately stop ‘shooting.’”
Israel responded to the initial barrage with a large-scale airstrike against Iranian defense systems on Monday morning local time.
The Israeli military announced that the strike targeted Iran’s strategic defense systems and hit several targets in Iran’s petrochemical complex in Mahshahr in southwestern Iran. The military said the systems had been “degraded” during the February “Operation Roaring Lion” war and that “the strike led to the destruction of these systems.”
Shortly after the Israeli strike, Iran launched a second round of missiles into Israel, sending families into shelters. Schools were already canceled for Monday following Sunday night’s attacks.
According to local Israeli media, explosions were heard in Isfahan and Kermanshah, and Iranian Foreign Minister Esmaeil Baghaei blamed the United States for Israel’s response.
The Israeli response came after Trump told Axios Sunday night that he would tell Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to not respond to the attacks. “I am going to call Bibi right now,” Trump told the news site, “and tell him not to retaliate.”
He added that both countries had “had their fun. Israel had its strike, and Iran had its strike. We don’t need another one.”
In a second Truth Social post on Monday, Trump wrote that “ignorance and stupidity” were hampering the already fragile Iran-Israel ceasefire negotiations. “The Blockade will remain in place, and in full force and effect, until a “Final Deal” is reached,” he wrote.
The U.S. Navy imposed a blockade of Iranian ports on ships traveling to and from Iran on April 13. Trump made the decision after the collapse of talks aimed at permanently ending the five-week war the U.S. launched against Iran on Feb. 28 and Iran closed the Strait of Hormuz on March 2.
Meanwhile, on Monday morning the Iran-backed Houthi terror group in Yemen launched a single missile into Israel. No injuries were reported. Later, the Iranian-backed group said it would impose a complete naval blockade on Israeli ships in the Red Sea.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
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