Why Humility Outperforms Hubris

The humility we ask of school leaders must also be the humility we model as consultants. When we listen first, we build the kind of trust that makes change possible.

After three months of learning how to work as a consultant, I’ve been struck by how loud the marketplace can be.

There are frameworks and formulas, signature programs and proprietary acronyms — all promising transformation.  I understand why; I used to hire them. Schools want clarity, confidence, and a plan.  But the longer I do this work, the more convinced I become that the most effective consulting doesn’t start with brilliance. It starts with humility.

That may sound naïve — humility isn’t what gets you noticed.  In a space that rewards visibility, it can feel countercultural to lead with quiet. But if we claim to want Brené Brown cultures of vulnerability and trust, why do we so often hire cowboy consultants to save the day?  We say we want to build capacity, but too often we just want to buy credibility.

Here’s what I’ve learned from both sides of the table.  When schools approach change with humility — when boards and leaders are willing to ask hard questions, to listen deeply, and to hold complexity — they create the conditions for sustainable growth.  And when consultants model that same humility — when we listen first, honor context, and resist the urge to prescribe before we understand — we strengthen those same muscles in the institutions we serve.  The posture of humility, it turns out, is contagious.

Jim Collins called it “Level 5 Leadership,” the paradoxical blend of fierce professional will and personal humility that turns good organizations into great ones.  Jewish tradition calls it anavah.  Moshe wasn’t our greatest leader in spite of his humility, but because of it.  His clarity came from service, not self.

The best consultants I’ve worked with, inside and outside Jewish education, had strong ideas and structured methods.  But they used them to teach us to fish, not to sell us fish.  They understood that capacity built through humility lasts longer than credibility bought through charisma.

I’m still learning how to make my voice heard in a noisy world — how to make the case that quiet consulting can be both principled and powerful. But maybe that’s the point.  Humility doesn’t demand the spotlight because it already trusts the process.  And in a field that teaches others to lead with humility, maybe the truest form of integrity is to model it ourselves.

The Readiness Question: How Schools Know They’re Ready to Change

Over the last few months, I’ve found myself returning again and again to a single question: How do schools know when they’re ready to change?

In my new role at Scott Goldberg Consulting (SGC), it’s a question that sits right at the heart of our work.  Every strategic plan, every coaching relationship, every conversation about improvement begins there.  We do have a kind of “secret sauce” when it comes to readiness and change — a structured way of thinking about the human, cultural, and operational conditions that allow schools to grow.  But before I ever helped design readiness tools, I spent twenty years as a head of school trying to build them by feel.

Looking back across three headships, and what I learned through my time serving at Schechter, Prizmah, and (still) at DSLTI, I can see that readiness wasn’t about whether we had the right plan on paper.  It was about the energy in the building, the trust between people, the willingness to name what wasn’t working. Readiness lived in the conversations that felt a little scary but still possible.

What Readiness Is Not

It’s tempting to think readiness is about timing or resources: when the budget balances, when enrollment climbs, when morale improves, then we’ll be ready to take on change.  But in my experience, those are lagging indicators.  Real readiness shows up before the conditions are perfect.  It’s not a function of abundance; it’s a function of honesty.

The schools that were most ready to change weren’t the ones with the most money or the newest facilities.  They were the ones that could tell the truth.  The ones that could sit in a room together and say, “This is where we are — and this is where we need to go.”

The Human Signals of Readiness

When schools ask whether they’re ready for change, they usually expect a checklist.  (And, yes, at SGC, we do have tools and diagnostics that help answer that question.)  But long before we pull data or map systems, you can feel readiness in the people.

You see it when a leadership team starts to ask data-informed questions, not just opinion-driven ones.  You hear it when a teacher says, “We’ve tried this before and it didn’t work — what would make it different this time?”  You sense it when stakeholders stop defending what is and start imagining what could be.

At its heart, readiness is relational.  It’s built on trust, the belief that naming a problem won’t be punished.  It’s powered by curiosity, the willingness to learn something new about ourselves or our institutions.  And it’s sustained by alignment, enough shared purpose to move forward even when not everyone agrees on every detail.

That’s why at SGC we talk about systems and data in the same breath as culture and trust. Systems create clarity.  Data keeps us honest.  But people create the conditions that make change possible.  You can design the most elegant theory of change in the world, but if the culture isn’t ready to hold it, it won’t last.

Not every change unfolds according to plan, of course.  The most meaningful shifts are rarely linear.  Sometimes they begin with a Nachshon moment – a courageous first step into uncertain waters. Other times they follow the pattern of na’aseh v’nishmah; we act first, and understanding follows.  Readiness, in those moments, isn’t about having everything figured out. It’s about having enough faith in each other, and in the process, to begin.

The Systemic Signals of Readiness

Because our team at SGC works with schools across so many domains, from Hebrew language and literacy to strategic planning, executive coaching, governance, finance, and operations, we get to see the full ecosystem of day school life from multiple angles.  That breadth offers perspective: when you’re in conversation with dozens of schools each week, you start to notice patterns.  The schools that move from aspiration to action share certain systemic habits.

They have clear decision-making pathways; people know who owns which calls and how information flows. They use data to inform, not to defend.  Metrics are a mirror, not a weapon. Their systems talk to each other.  Finance understands how scheduling affects teaching; board priorities align with classroom realities.  And perhaps most importantly, they build feedback loops that translate insight into iteration.

None of that sounds flashy, but it’s the infrastructure of change.  When systems are aligned and transparent, energy is freed for the work that matters most.  When data is timely and trusted, leaders can focus on learning rather than reacting.  Readiness at the systemic level isn’t about perfection; it’s about coherence.  It’s about the way people, structures, and information interact in service of a shared purpose.

At SGC, this is the connective tissue across our work.  Whether the conversation begins with Hebrew reading, a head search, a financial model, or a strategic-planning retreat, the readiness question is always the same: Is the system strong enough, and honest enough, to hold the next stage of growth?

Why Readiness Matters

In every school I’ve served, and now in every school I have the privilege to support, the success of any plan ultimately rests on readiness.  A brilliant strategy in an unready system is like tefillah without kavanah: technically sound, spiritually empty.  But when readiness is high – when people are aligned, systems are coherent, and trust runs deep – change stops being a project and starts becoming culture.

That’s why we focus on readiness at SGC.  It isn’t a phase; it’s a condition.  It’s the climate that determines whether ideas take root.  And it’s built slowly, through relationships, data, and the courage to name what’s true.  We can model it, measure it, and nurture it, but ultimately readiness is about faith – faith in people, in process, and in possibility.

Not all change happens in straight lines or predictable steps.  Some transformations follow the textbooks and theories; others begin with a Nachshon moment, when someone simply steps forward before the sea has split.  And sometimes, as in na’aseh v’nishmah, we act before we fully understand, trusting that meaning will follow action. The best school leaders I know – the ones I’ve learned from as a head, a mentor, and now a consultant – are the ones who find that balance between planning and courage.

Readiness is that balance.  It’s what allows a community to take a leap that’s grounded in learning, guided by data, and sustained by systems.

Every school can get there.  Every school deserves to.

Many Floors, Still No Ceilings

As we approach Labour Day Weekend, schools that haven’t yet started (including one I know pretty well in my community) are primed to open next week.  It’s a strange thing to watch the commercials, scroll past the social media postings, to feel the vibes of back to school—but not actually be going back to school.

For the first time in eight years, I’m not filled with excitement (or butterflies) about opening those doors to welcome parents and children into their classrooms.  There’s a wistfulness in that—an ache, even—but also a curiosity about what it means to (re)experience September from a different vantage point.

I’ve toggled before between the micro and the macro.  Two headships placed me squarely in the daily rhythms of children, teachers, and parents.  My work at Schechter, then Prizmah, shifted me out a level, looking more at systems, networks, and strategy.  A third headship allowed me to bring what I had learned from the macro back into the micro.  And now, at Scott Goldberg Consulting (SGC), I find myself toggled again—back in the macro, but with the even-more-recent wisdom (and scars) of years in the micro.

Through each role I’ve been blessed to play in this field—head of school, executive director, grad student, DSLTI mentor, and now consultant—I’ve noticed that while my context changes, my north stars (yes, we’re sticking with “north stars.”  Thanks, NoTosh!) don’t.

I believe in children’s boundless capacity to learn.

I believe leadership is about transparency, courage, and care.

I believe change is both necessary and possible, but only when it’s rooted in people and process.

Those convictions have evolved over time, but they remain foundational touchstones.

Which brings me back to blogging.  For two months I’ve been sitting quietly, wondering: what is this space now?  How can I write authentically when my job is not just to lead a single school, but to help others lead theirs?  What stories are mine to tell, and which belong to my colleagues and clients?

At the same time, I find myself wrestling with new (old) provocations—questions that echo from my last toggle out of headship into the wider field:

  • How does a process-oriented person thrive in a product-oriented field?
  • How does someone who is naturally “quiet” (Susan Cain’s word, not mine) make enough noise to be heard in a crowded marketplace?
  • How do you grow new business without becoming a “look-at-me” person?

I don’t have tidy answers.  Maybe (likely) this blog is where I’ll explore them.  Maybe (probably) this is where I’ll test ideas about leadership, strategy, and change—always with an eye toward the Jewish future, always grounded in the north stars that have guided me since the beginning.

And so here I am, in September, watching schools open their doors from a different vantage point.  I feel the tug of the micro—the hum of classrooms, the smell of new markers, the nervous energy of the first day—but I know my work now lives more in the macro.  I’m toggling again, as I always have, between leading in one place and serving across many.

Through every toggle—SSDS-LV, MJGDS, Schechter, Prizmah, OJCS, and now SGC—the truth has been the same: the particulars evolve, but the purpose does not.  My work has always been about helping schools and leaders discover what is most true for them, and to grow into their best selves on behalf of the children they serve.

Which is why I’ve long said—and still believe—that there is a floor, but no ceiling.  I’ve stood on many floors, and now I get to visit even more.  But the ceiling?  When it comes to children, leaders, schools, organizations, and communities, there simply is none.

So call this a relaunch, a reset, or simply a return.  The questions may shift, the vantage point may change, but the why endures: to serve Jewish children, through Jewish schools, for the Jewish future.

Many floors.  Still no ceilings.

Let’s go.

A Floor Beneath, No Ceiling Above, and North Stars to Guide: My Final Post as OJCS HoS

Eight years ago, in the summer of 2017, I relaunched this blog in my then-new role as Head of School at OJCS, promising transparency, authenticity, and community engagement.  Since then, I’ve published over 175 blog posts, mixing metaphors, extending analogies, and—admittedly—never quite mastering brevity.

A playful yet real look back by the numbers:

  • “Transparency Files” posts: 27
  • Posts tackling French curriculum and bilingualism: 16
  • Posts exploring Jewish Studies, pluralism, and identity: 24
  • Posts explicitly focused on culture, innovation, and change: 38
  • Total approximate word count: 210,000 (enough for three average novels—or about the length of a typical Jon Mitzmacher email)

Behind these playful statistics lies the heart of the meaningful work we’ve accomplished together.  This June offered several opportunities to share reflections directly with different parts of our community—our Board, our families and supporters, and (on Monday night!) our graduating class.  Each message carried its unique emphasis, but woven together, they create a powerful tapestry of gratitude, celebration, vision, and hope.

To the Board of Trustees

Reflecting on our time together, I shared my gratitude for the extraordinary dedication of our lay leaders.  Our Board members have given generously of their time, talent, and treasure—especially their time, the most precious gift.  Over these eight years, we have navigated strategic shifts, enrollment growth, financial stewardship, a global pandemic, and October 7th, demonstrating courage, moral clarity, and thoughtful decision-making at every step.  I expressed particular thanks to four remarkable Board Chairs—Michael Polowin, Leila Ages, Lorne Segal, and Joanne Gorenstein—each of whom led with wisdom, integrity, and care.  We wrote these chapters together, understanding clearly that while no single person finishes this sacred work, each of us has the profound obligation to contribute meaningfully to its ongoing story.

To the OJCS Community

Addressing our wider community, I reaffirmed the clarity with which I chose Ottawa—not once, but twice.  Coming here was never a difficult choice because I saw, clearly and immediately, the enormous potential in this school and community.  OJCS has become an engine of transformation, a beacon of unapologetic Jewish joy in Canada’s capital.  Our achievements—steady enrollment growth, bold innovations, meaningful engagement with pluralism and inclusion, significant enhancements to French fluency, increased contact time and rigour in Jewish Studies, our beautifully renovated spaces, and a remarkable 75th anniversary—testify to our capacity to build something truly transformational.  And still, I insisted, our greatest days lie ahead, with much ground yet to break and many more Jewish lives to inspire.

To Our Graduates

Speaking directly to our graduates, I celebrated their extraordinary journeys and their resilience.  They began Grade 1 as I began my tenure, and we’ve grown together over these eight remarkable years.  In a world increasingly divided, OJCS has served as a haven for unity and diversity, preparing them to enter a complicated world as compassionate, literate, and passionate Jewish leaders.

A Special OJCS North Stars Blessing for Our Community

As I conclude this chapter, let me offer a special adaptation of the OJCS North Stars Blessing we offer each year at graduation, now reimagined specifically as a blessing for our entire community:

  • “Have a floor, but not a ceiling” – as a community, may we always maintain high standards, setting strong foundational expectations while continually encouraging bold aspirations.  May OJCS always push beyond perceived limitations, committed to excellence, innovation, and meaningful growth for everyone it touches.
  • “Ruach” – may our community forever be defined by unapologetic Jewish joy.  Even in challenging times, may we remain playful, spirited, and passionately engaged in the celebrations, traditions, and everyday moments that make Jewish life vibrant and compelling.
  • “We own our own learning” – may we continue to embrace learning as active and intentional, never passive.  Let OJCS continue to be a community where everyone—students, teachers, parents, stakeholders—feels empowered and inspired to shape their educational experiences and paths forward.
  • “We are each responsible one to the other” – may our community remain deeply committed to caring for one another and repairing the world around us.  Let OJCS always be a place where Torah inspires mitzvot, mitzvot inspire learning, and acts of kindness and responsibility become our hallmark.
  • “We learn better together” – may our community remain a beacon of collaboration, unity, and mutual support.  Understanding that we achieve more collectively than individually, let OJCS always model this deeply Jewish value, inspiring stronger relationships and shared successes.
  • “We are on our own inspiring Jewish journey” – may our community proudly and intentionally embrace our unique approach to Jewish pluralism.  Let OJCS always be a haven where diverse Jewish journeys are not only accepted but celebrated, offering a powerful example of unity without uniformity to the wider world.

Thank you for walking this journey with me, for engaging openly and thoughtfully, and for believing so deeply in the transformative power of Jewish education.  It has truly been the honour and privilege of my professional life.

As we look toward our shared future, let joy be our guiding principle:

“Ivdu Et Hashem B’Simchah—Serve God with joy.” (Psalm 100:2)

May the joy we have created together continue to inspire us, enrich our lives, and guide us forward.

And so, once again, this blog will go on a brief hiatus as I prepare to change roles.  People have asked, and so let me name here that as of August 1st, will become a Senior Director with Scott Goldberg Consulting (SGC).  As was true during my years with Schechter and Prizmah, I am looking forward again to widening my aperture while still serving the field.  This blog has transitioned with me along my professional journey, evolving and growing with each new role I have been blessed to play.  This will be true now as well.  I will take some time off from weekly blogging – I will take some time off period! – but then I look forward to relaunching the next iteration of “A Floor, But No Ceiling” once I am clear as to how my thought leadership is best exhibited in this new role.   I am excited for what comes next…stay tuned.

Looking Backwards to Look Forward #6: The “J” in “OJCS”

What does the “J” in “OJCS” (really) stand for?

When I first posed that question in a blog post back in October 2017 (The Transparency Files: Let’s Talk About the “J” In OJCS), it was not rhetorical. It was existential.  It was a genuine inquiry into who we were, Jewishly, as a school — and more importantly, who we aspired to become.

This post marks the final entry in our Looking Backwards to Look Forward series.  It is not my farewell post — that will come in due course — but it is my last opportunity in this format to reflect on one of the great honours of my professional life: stewarding the Jewish mission and vision of the Ottawa Jewish Community School.

Over the past eight years, we have done the hard work — and the heart work — of bringing clarity, coherence, rigour and joy to Jewish life at OJCS.  And in doing so, we’ve ensured that the “J” is no longer a question mark.  It’s a celebration.

Looking Backward: From Fog to Framework

The journey to articulate our Jewish vision began in earnest with our Jewish Town Halls (Part I | Part II).  We asked our stakeholders — students, teachers, parents, board members, rabbis — what kind of Jewish community school they wanted.  What kind of Judaism we should model. What values we should lift up.

From those conversations emerged not just answers, but a framework.  We identified four core drivers of Jewish life at OJCS:

  1. Ritual & Practice – From the joyful chaos of Kabbalat Shabbat to our revamped Tefillah curriculum, from the Chaggim to Shavuat HaRuach, we infused our calendar — and our classrooms — with meaningful Jewish rhythm.

  2. Text & Literacy – We expanded Jewish Studies and Hebrew instruction, introduced Rabbinics, and made sacred text a daily companion, not an occasional visitor.  Hebrew fluency – embedded into our mission from the beginning – is the key that unlocks all doors; the spine upon which the Jewish Studies program is built.

  3. Community & Mitzvot – The Rabbi Bulka Kindness Projects, family learning programs, and Middle School Retreats gave students a chance to live their values, not just learn about them.

  4. Israel & Zionism – We built a curriculum that treated Israel not as a postcard or a prayer, but as a complex, beloved homeland — worthy of both celebration and critical engagement.

These weren’t abstract ideas.  They became lived experiences.  The joy on the faces of Kitah Alef students receiving their first siddurim at Kabbalat Ha’Siddur — not as a trophy, but as a tool (The Gift of Joyful Prayer).  The pride of Middle Schoolers singing Kabbalat Shabbat at Hillel Lodge, leading Yom HaZikaron ceremonies, or offering divrei Torah from our bimah.  The contagious joy of Jewish learning, song, dance, and pride that began to echo through our halls.

October 7th: A Test of Vision and Values

And then came October 7th.

Like every Jewish institution around the world, we were shaken.  But we were not unmoored.

What we had built together — a Jewish school anchored in pride, pluralism, and purpose — held fast.  In the days and weeks that followed, we leaned into our Jewishness.  We stood with Israel.  We created space for grief, for solidarity, for complex conversations. And just as importantly, we insisted on joy.

Because Jewish joy — especially in the shadow of antisemitism and violence — is not naïve.  It is defiant.  It is resilient.  It is necessary.

We didn’t cancel our celebrations.  We deepened them.  We didn’t shrink our curriculum.  We sharpened it.  And through it all, our students felt what we hoped they would: that being Jewish is a gift, not a burden; a source of strength, not fear.

Looking Forward: The Work Ahead

Clarifying our Jewish mission didn’t conclude the work.  It began it.

The next phase belongs to those who come next — to build upon the pluralistic adventure we’ve begun.  To ensure that ritual deepens, that literacy expands, that connection grows, and that the joy of being Jewish at OJCS never dims, even when the world feels dark.

Pluralism is not easy.  It never was.  But we have shown that it is possible. That children can grow up learning that there are many authentic ways to be Jewish — and that what unites us is stronger than what divides us.  That sacred disagreement can be a sacred gift.  We model the Jewish value of machloket l’shem shamayim — argument for the sake of Heaven, i.e., disagreements that are principled, respectful, and in pursuit of truth rather than ego or power.  [The origin of that phrase is Pirkei Avot 5:17.]

And that is the “J” we want our students to carry with them.  Not just into high school, but into life.

Closing: Ivdu Et Hashem B’simcha

There’s a verse from Psalms (100:2) that has echoed in my mind throughout these years: “Ivdu et Hashem b’simcha — Serve God with joy.”  Joy, not as an afterthought.  Joy, as the path.

We’ve tried — in ways large and small — to make OJCS a place where Jewish joy is not only possible, but palpable.  Where learning to chant Torah, or argue Talmud, or dance on Purim, or cry on Yom HaZikaron, are all expressions of what it means to live Jewishly.

And there’s something even deeper.  The joy that comes from seeing a school where students with pe’ot and tzitzit sit at the same lunch tables as students who wear nail polish and identify as non-binary — and nobody flinches.  The joy of a community that does not demand consensus to offer belonging.  A place where “pluralism” isn’t just an aspiration, but a process.

This, I believe, is our true miracle.  Not just that students learn how to lead tefillah — but that they learn how to lead lives of empathy, curiosity, and kavod.  That they come to see disagreement not as a threat, but as an invitation to deeper relationship.  At a time where polarisation and disunity is all around us, OJCS is the rare place where everyone not only has a seat at the table, but they are willing to come in and sit down together.

It has been the blessing of my professional life to walk this path with you. To look back and see how far we’ve come.  To look forward and know that the best is yet to come.

The “J” in OJCS?  It stands for joy.  It stands for Judaism.  And it stands for “just getting started”.

Looking Backwards to Look Forward #5: North Stars

We are, in many ways, a 70-year-old start-up.

When we first described OJCS that way back in early 2018—part legacy, part launch—it was an attempt to name something true and tender.  OJCS had decades of proud history, beloved teachers, loyal families, and deep community roots.  But we were also in the process of becoming something new: more transparent, more innovative, more defined in who we were and what we stood for.

At that time, we were also coming to terms with a generational shift.  As a Canadian Jewish day school, we were perhaps a decade behind our American peers in facing a hard truth: that families were no longer going to choose a Jewish day school simply because it was Jewish.  That reality may have felt new in Ottawa, but it was already well underway across North America.  We needed to clarify our identity, strengthen our programs, and most of all, articulate a compelling reason why a family should choose OJCS.

We knew that solving these wouldn’t just take policies or programs. It would require culture change—and that would require shared language, shared goals, and shared vision.  That’s when the idea of the North Stars was born.

Guiding Light: The Creation of Our North Stars

The North Stars were not handed down by any one individual or department.  They were co-created by our entire school community. Through deep and intentional work with two outstanding educational consultancies—NoTosh, who guided us through strategic framing, and deepened by Silvia Tolisano z”l, who helped us refine our learning principles—we brought together voices from across the school: faculty and staff, administrators and board members, parents and students, alumni and donors.

Through workshops, surveys, town halls, and countless drafts, we asked ourselves and each other:

  • What do we believe to be true about how children learn best?

  • What kind of graduates are we trying to shape?

  • What values do we want to guide our decisions?

  • What makes our school not just good, but worth choosing?

From this rich, communal process, we emerged with a set of six aspirational beliefs—what we came to call our North Stars:

As we wrote in one of the earliest blog posts introducing them:

“We chose the term ‘North Stars’ quite intentionally. North Stars are aspirational.  North Stars help you find your way.  North Stars are what you aim for.  North Stars are bright and visible.  North Stars are eternal.”

From Vision to Practice

Once our North Stars were named, we began the long—and ongoing—work of making them real.

We embedded them into the physical space of the school, into our strategic documents, into our classroom practices, and into our school culture.  They became a touchstone in how we spoke to students, how we evaluated teachers, how we communicated with parents, and how we made leadership decisions.

They showed up in places big and small:

  • We own our own learning. 

    Example: Students maintain digital portfolios, or “blogfolios,” where they document their learning journeys, reflecting on their growth and taking ownership of their educational narratives.

  • Each person is responsible for the other.

    Example: Our community engagement initiatives, such as partnerships with local organizations and social action projects, embody this value by encouraging students to contribute positively to society.  The Rabbi Bulka Kindness Project serves as a clear example.

  • We learn better together.

    Example: Collaborative learning is emphasized through group projects and peer-to-peer teaching, fostering a culture where students and teachers alike benefit from shared knowledge and experiences.

  • We are always on inspiring Jewish journeys.

    Example: Our curriculum integrates Jewish learning with modern experiences, encouraging students to explore their heritage and identity in meaningful ways.

  • There is a floor here, but no ceiling.

    Example: Our commitment to personalized learning ensures that while every student meets rigorous academic standards, there are no limits to how far they can go, with opportunities for enrichment and advanced studies.

  • Ruach (Joyfulness/Spirit)

    Example: Joy and spirit are infused into learning through various programs and celebrations, fostering an environment where enthusiasm and positivity are integral to the educational experience.

As we wrote in a follow-up reflection:

“They’re not decorative statements. They’re action-oriented commitments that should shape what we teach, how we teach, how we lead, and how we relate.”

That’s exactly what happened.

Looking Around and Looking Ahead

Seven years living our North Stars later, it is clear that we are no longer the school we once were.   We now have a clear and compelling value proposition—one rooted in the North Stars we chose, the culture we shaped, and the learning we champion.

That doesn’t mean the work is done.

But it does mean that the purpose of our North Stars has shifted.  In 2018, they were a response to institutional uncertainty.  In 2025, they are anchors of identity.

As we look forward, the work is not to revise or revisit them. It is to reach ever closer.

These North Stars were not meant to be milestones to hit and then move past.  They are permanent touchstones in the sky, fixed points by which we steer the ship.  They continue to ask us hard questions:

  • Are we truly empowering students to own their learning?

  • Are we living the value of mutual responsibility?

  • Are we continuing to meet the moment, as a school for this time?

We believe the answer can keep being “yes”—if we keep following where the North Stars lead.

Two Posts Remain

This is the fifth in a six-part series looking back at the work we’ve done together—and looking forward to where the school may go next.

The final installment, coming soon, will focus on the “J” in OJCS.

And then, one final post will follow: my words of farewell as I prepare to step away from this remarkable school and community.

Until then, I’ll simply say this:

May we always be a school with stars to guide us—and the courage to follow.

A Time To Count; a Time To Be Counted

Here are the words I shared with Kitah Bet this morning in celebration of their Chaggigat Ha’Torah:

There is a time to count, like one does when counting one’s blessings, and there is a time to be counted, like one does when showing up for oneself, one’s family, and one’s community.  Today is a rare opportunity to do both.

Today we celebrate the gift of Torah, and in this week’s reading of it—Parashat Bamidbar—we encounter the census of the Israelites in the wilderness.  This detailed counting of each tribe and individual highlights the significance of every member within the community.  Each person’s unique role and contribution are recognized and valued.  This notion resonates deeply with us today, as we mark a moment in which our children, our families, and our school joyfully write our stories into the Jewish narrative.

Bamidbar not only reminds us that each person matters—it reminds us how we matter.  In the wilderness, the Mishkan and the Ark of the Covenant were placed at the very center of the camp.  Every tribe encamped around Torah. Every journey began with Torah.  Torah was the heart of the community.  So too here at OJCS.  In our classrooms, hallways, assemblies, and celebrations—Torah is our anchor and our compass.  (Dare I say…a North Star?)  And for our students in Kitah Bet, who today receive their own Torah, it becomes something more personal: a source of joy, a sense of pride, and a connection to a much larger whole.

As it says in Pirkei Avot: “תַלְמוּד תּוֹרָה כְּנֶגֶד כֻּלָּם – the study of Torah is equal to them all.”  Why?  Because Talmud Torah is not only about learning what Judaism says; it is about discovering who we are, and what it means to live a Jewish life of meaning and purpose.  And at OJCS, that learning is joyful.  It’s a Torah learned through song and story, drama and dance, chagigot and blogfolios.  It’s a Torah that children can taste and touch and carry.

In the shadow of current events, when public expressions of Judaism sometimes feel vulnerable, this school remains a sacred space of safety, of pride, and of unfiltered Jewish joy.  Here, our children get to experience what it means to be publicly and unapologetically Jewish—through love, not fear; through celebration, not silence.  This is where Judaism is lived out loud, in bright vibrant colours, and with hearts wide open.

That is why, as was true with the siddur they received at the end of Kitah Alef, the Torah they receive at the end of Kitah Bet is not intended to be a trophy to sit upon a shelf, but an inspiration to continue the Jewish journey they are just beginning.  It is our hope and our prayer that the work we have begun together as partners—parents and teachers; home and school—continues in the years ahead to provide our children with Jewish moments of meaning and Jewish experiences of consequence so that they can continue to receive and accept Torah in their own unique way, infused by a love of Judaism, informed by Jewish wisdom and aligned with Jewish values.

Ken y’hi ratzon.

Kabbalat Ha’Siddur 2025 / 5785: The Gift of Joyful Prayer

The following was shared with our Kitah Alef (Grade One) Families during our school’s annual Kabbalat Ha’Siddur – our celebration of early Jewish learning with the gift of a siddur:

Before we call each student up by name to give them their siddur, let me assure you that I will keep these remarks brief, knowing we have eager students—and cupcakes—waiting for us!

Today we celebrate more than just a book.  We celebrate Jewish joy.  When the world outside continues to cast shadows, our community at OJCS continues to find ways to refract beams of joy.  Choosing joy has become a powerful act of resilience—a reciprocal dance between our inner selves and our outer community.

The Hebrew word for prayer, l’hitpallel (להתפלל), comes from the root פ-ל-ל, and appears in the grammatical form or binyan of hitpa’el.  This binyan is both reflexive and reciprocal.  What does this mean for prayer?  It suggests prayer isn’t only about looking inward, judging ourselves, and cultivating personal spirituality.  It’s equally about the joyful exchange that happens outwardly—connecting, sharing, and strengthening one another through communal experience.

The siddur we present today is not intended to be a trophy to sit quietly on a shelf; rather, it is intended to live loudly as a vibrant tool.  It invites our children, and through them, you, into a rhythm that connects personal joy to shared celebration.  Each page is a doorway to discovery—the joy of singing boldly, the warmth of friends praying side-by-side, the confidence of being unapologetically Jewish.  Watching young children pray unselfconsciously—without hesitation or fear—is itself an inspiration, a beautiful model for all of us of how prayer can and should feel.

If I can take just a moment of personal privilege to speak to you parent-to-parent, on occasions such as this, I cannot help but to be reminded of my own daughters, alumni of this school, who joyfully used their Kitah Alef siddurim to lead services at their Bat Mitzvahs, and then later carried those same siddurim to Israel and, now, to university campus.  My hope for them – and your children – is that each interaction with their siddur will continue to connect their inner journeys with their communal Jewish identity, creating lasting memories.

As this marks my final Kabbalat Ha’Siddur at OJCS, I must express my gratitude for the countless moments of happiness I have been privileged to witness.  My deepest wish and prayer for this year’s Kitah Alef is that today’s simchah becomes a joyful touchstone—reminding each child, family, and all of us, that prayer at its best is an experience of both personal meaning and communal delight.

One of our school’s North Stars is that “we are all on inspiring Jewish journeys” and the Kabbalat Ha’Siddur is just the next stop on a journey that, for many of you, began together under the chuppah on the first day of Kindergarten.  Let today’s simchah not merely serve as a moment to celebrate, but an inspiration to reach the next stop and the stop after that in your inspiring Jewish journey.

Ken y’hi ratzon.

Thank you to Morah Ada for the care and dedication that makes today possible.  Thank you to the entire Kitah Alef team for their commitment and enthusiasm.  And thank you, parents and grandparents, for nurturing the joy of Jewish living within your families and our community.

Let me now welcome Keren Gordon, our Principal, and invite the teachers in Kitah Alef, as we prepare to celebrate each of our students.

Looking Backwards to Look Forward #4: Leadership

When people think about leadership in schools, they often imagine principals making announcements, board chairs running meetings, or student council presidents handing out spirit day schedules.  And sure, those things happen.  But if there’s one thing the last eight years at OJCS have taught me, it’s that leadership isn’t about who holds the microphone. It’s about who makes space for others to lead.

At OJCS, leadership is more than a title—it’s a culture.  A culture that runs through students, teachers, administrators, and our governance structures. A culture shaped by trust, transparency, empowerment, and purpose.

This post, the fourth in our “Looking Backwards to Look Forward” series, traces the arc of how leadership has evolved and expanded at OJCS—not from the top down, but from the inside out.

Student Leadership: “We Own Our Own Learning” in Action

Our North Stars say it plainly: “We own our own learning.”  That guiding belief is foundational not just to how we teach but to how we raise leaders.

We began by redefining what student government could look like.  Our Junior Knesset (Grades 3-5) and Senior Knesset (Grades 6-8) were restructured to provide students with meaningful roles in shaping school life—from Jewish Life to Communications to Environment.  This wasn’t just about letting students vote on Dress Down Days. It was about giving them voice and responsibility.

And student leadership didn’t stop at Knesset.  We’ve seen remarkable growth in student-led clubs: Bracelet Making Club, Math Club, Game Design Club, and more.  These initiatives have emerged not because an adult created space, but because students claimed it.

You can see this leadership captured in real-time on our student blogfolios. In a 2022 Grade 6 post titled “Leading the Way with Knesset”, one student reflected:

“Being in Knesset is more than saying announcements. It’s showing others what our school values.”

That’s the kind of ownership we’re after—not just of learning, but of identity and responsibility.

And, of course, the hoped-for transition to Student-Led Conferences (with Goal-Setting already in place) will, perhaps, be the clearest pedagogical expression of this ethos. When students articulate their own growth, name their goals, and share their work with families, they’re not just learning leadership. They’re living it.

Faculty Leadership: Treating Teachers Like Learners

From the start, we committed to a simple principle:

If we believe students learn best when they have voice, choice, and agency—why wouldn’t the same be true for our teachers?

This principle guided our transformation of professional learning at OJCS. It’s why we moved to teacher-led evaluations, why we created the APReP process (Annual Performance Review Process), and why we implemented Professional Growth Projects (PGPs).

Instead of imposing top-down checklists, we asked teachers to reflect, dream, and define what growth would look like for them. As I wrote in How We Grow Our Teachers:

“Our teachers are learners, too. If we are asking them to personalize learning for students, shouldn’t we model the same for them?”

This commitment to faculty empowerment hasn’t just strengthened morale—it’s elevated our teaching.  Teachers now co-lead PD, mentor colleagues, and regularly share practice through classroom blogs and peer observations.  It has been among the most transformative leadership decisions we’ve made.

Middle Leadership: Tzimtzum and the Art of Making Space

In Jewish mysticism, tzimtzum refers to God’s act of self-contraction to make space for creation.  I’ve often borrowed that idea as a leadership model—reframing headship not as “filling the room,” but as creating the room in the first place.

That’s been our approach to middle leadership at OJCS.

Rather than centralizing decision-making in the admin suite, we’ve empowered classroom teachers, coordinators, and administrators from all places on the org chart to lead—from curricular design to scheduling, communication, and culture-building.  Whether it’s planning PD, leading committee work, or piloting new initiatives, our middle leaders are central to how the school runs.

And the truth is: when you lead through tzimtzum, you don’t disappear—you multiply.  You build a culture where everyone sees themselves as part of the mission.

A few weeks ago, our board chair suggested making sure Ms. Gordon had opportunities to “hold the microphone” during assemblies, as a way of signaling transition.  We both laughed.  Ms. Gordon has been holding the microphone for years—not because it was handed to her, but because she helped build the stage.  That’s what leadership looks like here.

Governance: Leading with Clarity and Care

One of the quieter success stories of my tenure has been the strength of our governance.  I inherited a model with built-in advantages: I already knew three of the four board chairs I would eventually work with—not personally, but as community leaders with vision, integrity, and purpose. Each brought a different kind of leadership, and together they modeled what shared responsibility really means.

Governance at OJCS has never been performative.  It’s been strategic, transparent, and deeply values-aligned.

Together, we’ve launched multiple strategic planning processes, created structures for board education, improved committee functioning, and clarified roles and responsibilities.  Our board hasn’t just supported our leadership—they’ve modeled it.  That’s why our faculty, families, and students all feel empowered to lead.

Conclusion: A Culture of Leadership

Leadership at OJCS doesn’t live in a title or a microphone. It lives in the daily decisions to make space—for students to blog, for teachers to grow, for staff to step forward, for lay leaders to partner meaningfully.

It’s also deeply tied to our broader vision for change.

Throughout my time at OJCS, I have tried to follow a leadership arc that begins with naming a challenge, gathering stakeholders, prototyping solutions, iterating with feedback, implementing with support, and creating a new normal.  That’s how we approached personalized learning. That’s how we approached French.   That’s how we revised homework.  That’s how we clarified the “J” in “OJCS”.  And that’s how we approached leadership.

As I look ahead to our final two posts—on North Stars and Jewish Life—I’m struck by how much of what we’ve accomplished at OJCS isn’t about any one person.  It’s about the culture we’ve built.  A culture where leadership is shared.  Growth is expected.  And everyone has the chance to step forward.

The Transparency Files: Annual Parent Survey

Just when you thought you were out…they pull you back in.

🙂

Yes, I know.  I said last year that after years of diminishing returns, we would finally put to bed this version of the Annual Parent Survey and start transitioning to new feedback loops that would – hopefully – yield greater engagement and, thus, more actionable data.  And that will be the path forward…next year, when the school will be under new leadership.

With our energies focused on the future and the hope that the pending change in leadership would inspire greater participation, we once again invited current OJCS Parents to share feedback.  And, that hope did pay off with a meaningful uptick in participation.  Last year, although 47 individual surveys were turned in, only 36 individual surveys provided data on the main sections.  This year, 62 individual surveys were turned in, with only 48 who provided data on the main sections.  It is a better result, but still, this means that this survey represents less than 25% of the students in our school.  This is why the decision to pivot to a different methodology is warranted.

It simply defeats the purpose of gathering feedback in service of making decisions that impact students if only 1/4 of students are sharing that feedback.  Whether we move to a third-party vendor, a new format for surveys, focus groups, or some combination therein, the school will cast a different and a wider net to ensure it truly captures the feedback it needs – and that your children deserve – to aim closer to the OJCS North Stars; to be the best version of OJCS.

But that’s the future…for now, one last time, let’s thank and lean into the parents who did participate and try to make meaning of what they are telling us.  [If you would like to see a full comparison with last year, you can reread those results, or have them open so you can toggle back and forth.  In this post, I will try to capture the highlights and identify what trends seem worth paying attention to.]

This represents a decent distribution…it does make questions about “high school readiness” less helpful with such little representation from Grade 8.

Without knowing how representative this quarter of students is, this year’s data set is lighter on the “NOs”.  Of course the “NOs” are always complicated to unpack because we have no way of knowing who of the “NOs” represent graduation or relocations, as opposed to choosing to attrit prior to Grade 8.  However, what continues to be true is that the overwhelming majority of families – regardless of their feedback – stay with us year-after-year.

Let’s look at the BIG PICTURE:

The first chart gives you the breakdown by category; the second chart gives you the weighted average satisfaction score (out of 10).  I will remind you that for this and all categories, I look at the range between 7-9 as the healthy band, obviously wanting scores to be closer to 9 than to 7, and looking for scores to go up each year.  In terms of “overall satisfaction”, we have now gone from 7.13 to 7.20 to 8.17 to 7.91 to 8.0 to 7.44 to 7.53 to 7.65 Although it continues to tick up over the last two years, the differences are statistically insignificant.

Overall, this seems to be a good news story, but let’s dig deeper…

Each and every one of these numbers are not only up from last year, but may very well be the highest we have ever scored!  Not one below the “acceptable range” and a lot are, or nearly are, at an “8”.

This is an interesting split.  The topline number – being prepared for high school – is one of the highest scores we have received.  The one number that took a dip is about “technology” and that is not a surprise considering the ambivalence many parents are sharing with us.  The good news is that between our work with The Social Institute and The Anxious Generation – work that Mrs. Thompson is leading –  OJCS is tackling this head-on and in partnership with our parents.

The numbers connected with IEPs and resource are as high as we have received, with the acknowledgement that the communication result (just  barely below 7.0) has room to grow.

These are just about the highest numbers we have ever had!  First time cracking 8.0 for the topline number and a few of the subcategories.

The good news?  Every one of these scores is up from last year.  The not-that-great news?  They are still lower than the acceptable range, although we pleased to see Extended Social Studies zoom over 7.0 for the first time.  Improvement?  Yes.  Real work ahead?  Oui.

These are great numbers!  The only items below the acceptable range is Tefillah which is up from last year and the participation of our community’s clergy, which though important, is not entirely within our control.  But this will land on the agenda for the Rabbinic Advisory Committee moving forward.

These numbers are all up from last year, but clearly there is work to be done.  [A reminder that the addition of Music has not yet made its way into the survey, but is worthy of feedback.]  Morah Dina, however, should be proud to see Art surge up over 7.0 for the first time in a long time!  There are variables here that are not entirely within our control, but this entire section is worth our thinking more deeply about and identifying a few changes for next year.

I am pleased to see that all these numbers are up, even the first two which are still technically below 7.0.  Paring this with comments, we believe we have made meaningful responses to feedback last year about progress reports, goal-setting, and the transition to semesters.

Maybe this is a “goodbye present” or maybe by taking myself out of the survey, the rest of the administration is shining more brightly.  🙂  Either way, these are – by far – the the best scores we have ever received in these categories.  Whether it is the renovation, or all the work we have done over the years to improve behaviour outcomes, this is a wonderful result.

Last data point [Remember this question was scaled 1-5.]:

Our score has meaningful recovered from the last couple of dips as the journey has gone from 4.44 to 4.34 to 4.34 to 4.14 to 3.92. to 4.25.  This absolutely jives with overall theme of this year’s consistently high scores.

So there you have it for 2024-2025!

Thanks to all the parents who took the time and care to fill out surveys!  In addition to the multiple-choice questions, there were opportunities for open-ended responses and a couple of experimental sections.  Because the school is in transition, your feedback in those experimental sections counts more than ever.  Please know that all comments will be shared with those they concern.  (This includes a full set of unedited and unredacted results which goes to our Board of Trustees.)

Eight years.  Eight Annual Parent Surveys.  There have been zigs and zags, to be sure, but the trajectory has been constant – onwards and upwards.  From strength to strength.  I look forward to the school reaching even higher heights as the torch is passed to new leadership…

Ken yehi ratzon.