By Edna Elimelech | 20/08/2009
In the course of organizing a conference on the subject of poverty that took place last year at Ben-Gurion University of the Negev, discussion groups were convened to talk about various aspects of poverty. Edna Elimelech participated in a group that focused on education, and she gave the following speech at the conference:
Photo: Maria Truss
Firstly I would like to introduce myself: My name is Edna Elimelech. I am a single parent of three children and live in Beit Shemesh. I would like to share with you a personal experience that I underwent with my first-born son while he was studying in a boarding school. This was a year filled with frustration for my son Ofer and I, a year in which all the hopes they had instilled in us that finally he would be in a setting in which he could realize his learning potential and get out of the distress proved false. I hoped that poverty would not be his "partner for life" and that obtaining education would be a springboard to a better life for him.
Our difficult economic situation affected him as well, and also to some extent his functioning in school. You might ask, how? Well, it's not too complicated: I couldn't give Ofer much money, just enough for transportation and that's all. I bought him very few clothes, and of course, I didn't buy him clothes with designer labels. Add to that the backpack I couldn't buy him (and we didn't have an old one, like the parents of his friends). In return I received an embittered child with a low self-image. Ofer was very aware of the difficult economic situation. I thus particularly identified with the story of one of the women in the focus groups who told about her son who overturned the principal's room in the boarding school when he discovered that his clothes had been stolen from his room. He was suspended from the school. The mother did not support her son's behavior, but understood it, not only in the narrow context of a breach in discipline, but in the wider context of the distress and his concern for her. I think about this boy who was given the clothes that his mother bought with "blood, sweat and tears", as she says, with her last cent. When our children are concerned about these things, the worry, the shame, the helplessness and the self-blaming that "because of me, things are difficult for my parents" ? all of these hinder their ability to function.
Putting out fires
I was summoned to the boarding school many times during the year. They always contacted me when the situation had reached such a low point that it was difficult to improve things, after he had already been punished and had got into a frame of mind of "doing it just for spite". I felt they expected me to come from Beit Shemesh with a magical solution, that I would scatter magic dust on him and he would suddenly get up on time or something like that. Many parents in the different groups spoke about this need for "putting out fires", a situation in which they feel accused and having failed both in the teachers' eyes as well as those of their children's who often experience them as incapable of protecting them even when the system treats them unfairly.
Today I understand that we should have sat down together, understood the problem and thought jointly about solving it. In this way I could have contributed my knowledge of my son, and they could have examined solutions which, based on their experience, are appropriate for the boarding school.
The punishment that expresses the greatest helplessness of the educational system, is suspension. Suspension includes a wide variety of punishments, not only for the child but for his family as well. The boy or girl is detached from his or her social setting: during the suspension, especially if they study in a boarding school, they are prohibited from obtaining help through social contacts with their peers, at an age when the support of friends is vitally important. They come to learn what for many years I thought was the natural order of things: that also in times of difficulty you are alone. The expulsion turns the suspended child into something exceptional, into a 'bad' or 'problematic' child at a time when the most important thing for children is to be like everybody else.
Furthermore, the child misses out on material, which makes it difficult for him to afterwards close the gap.
The parents, for their part, are afraid that the suspended child will possibly not return to school. If the child is studying in a highly regarded boarding school, the situation is even more precarious. Then it seems that all the hopes I spoke about before, that the education he received would be a springboard for a better life are revealed as false. This intensifies the parents' anxiety as well as the tension between them and the child. Thus just when the child needs a lot of support, the parents feel helpless and unable to assist him.
One debt leads to another
Bear in mind that the suspension of a boy or girl from a boarding school is also an
economic punishment. First, during the child's suspension at home his daily needs have to be taken care of; second, transportation costs are a heavy burden. I think that people who are unfamiliar with situations of poverty don't know what it means to obtain transportation fare when one's purse is empty. You wake up in the morning and start racking your brains where to get the money, and wherever you get it from it will just be compound the existing debt. In this respect I identified with many of the participants who spoke about this in the focus groups. In addition, in certain cases the parents cannot comply with the need to accompany the child to the school, whether because they work (mainly in jobs in which they are paid by the hour, don't have tenure or protection from the workers' committee) ? because this forces them to lose precious working hours and sometimes even threatens their continued employment ? or whether in the absence of sources of support, the parents are forced to travel with their babies to a distant school, all of which detracts from the effectiveness of their participation in the meeting.
My son didn't stay in the boarding school for another year. "He did not succeed in integrating and adjusting to the system," his teachers wrote at the end of the year. I think they didn't succeed in seeing the qualities and the abilities he has in him, and to be aware of the things causing him distress and how they affect him. I know that even though physically he was in the boarding school, deep down he was at home. He was worried about me: How will I manage? Am I working? When he comes home for the Sabbath, will I have money for his return journey, or will he have to arrange something for himself with friends?
For the next two years Ofer studied in junior high and high school in Beit Shemesh. They led me to understand that he couldn't continue there. His situation was terrible, but thanks to his participation in the Hila complementary education project, he didn't completely drop out of studies. Fortunately for him, some people were able to see his abilities and help him to realize them. In addition, they helped him to cope with his difficulties. I was involved in the whole process, in the small and exhausting steps: Did he get to the lesson on time? Did he get a 90 grade on the examination? They allowed me to be involved. As a result, I assumed responsibility. I was able to speak freely with Ofer about his studies, because I knew exactly what was happening there. Because of their attitude to Ofer and the way they made him a major partner, with opinions that were taken into account, he also assumed responsibility.
He completed 12 years of study and sat for his matriculation examination in some subjects. His grades were excellent.
Discrimination and racism
When I read the material that was collected in the focus groups, I saw that there are groups of people who, besides experiencing poverty and economic distress, are faced with other problematic issues.
New immigrants have to cope with language difficulties, theirs and their children's. One of the participants, a new immigrant from Ethiopia, who thinks the principal of the school her son attends is treating the child unfairly, says: "I don't have a mouth to complain [about the principal]. I don't have a mouth to bring him to court." Because of her language difficulties, even if she understands what the principal is saying, she finds it difficult to answer him.
But there are also cases of pure discrimination and racism. Another woman, also from Ethiopia, says: "?I have an 11-year-old son?he broke his leg?they called me, said that he fell, come and take him to hospital. I took him, they put his leg in plaster, and for three months he was at home. No teacher, no principal [displayed any interest]?[like] a bag of trash thrown into the bin, no one even phoned to ask what's happening with the boy. I wasn't embarrassed. I said: 'You know why you did this? Because he's a black spot. If he was an Ashkenazi or an Israeli, you wouldn't do it'". In this case this woman did find a "mouth" to express her frustration. But as long as her frustration fell on deaf ears and there wasn't anyone to really listen to the pain underlying the things she was saying, she remained alone, invisible in her struggle to belong. After all, her son lost three months of schooling! Ethiopian mothers say that in a situation of this kind they look for a school in which their children will encounter smaller doses of discrimination and expressions of racism. In these circumstances, parents are forced to forego other preferences, which I as a mother assume they have: for example, a school close to home, and one with a high standard of teaching.
Another population group that has been particularly affected is the Bedouin. The participants mentioned, for example, that they came across third-grade children who hardly know how to read. Bedouin parents complain that the classrooms are unsuitable for learning: in caravans, without heating or cooling, more than forty children are crowded into a class. According to the participants, the strong children manage somehow to learn under these conditions; those who are less strong hardly learn at all. Bedouin participants spoke about their attempts to transfer children from schools in Rahat to schools in Be'er Sheva. They complained about the complex bureaucracy that this entails and of their failure to achieve results. From what they say it emerges that the more Jewish and more centrally located the school is, the higher its level will be and accordingly the child's achievements. Similarly, one of the considerations in choosing a boarding school for the child is its central location. In sending a child to a boarding school, the parents will attempt to move him from the margins to the center, both geographically and symbolically. I understand from this that they prefer to forego their children's right to study close to home, in their language, if only they succeed in being accepted into a quality school, both in terms of its physical structure and the level of education. Who will listen to you if you are both poor and a Bedouin?
I now have two children in the education system, one in second grade in the Adihu school in Beit Shemesh and the other in kindergarten. I would like to speak a bit about the school my son attends and the positive feeling I have about it. Adihu is a community school whose principal is Rina Ben-Aharon. Since my son entered first grade, whenever I visit the school I encounter a sincere desire on the part of the staff to help to the best of their ability, and I am always greeted with a smile and a real willingness to listen. Both me and my son find the positive approach most encouraging. The teaching staff and the principal treat me as an equal partner and as an inseparable part of the system. When my son does something well they contact me, and when he has difficulties they are sufficiently alert and inform me about them. I feel a great sense of responsibility for and involvement in my son's studies, and try to impart to him the feeling of responsibility, the importance of learning, and the value that learning has for his future. I see the school as a good place whose aim is not solely to obtain good grades and to be appreciated by the Ministry of Education, but also as a place where the person behind the grades is really important for the people running it. I am pleased to say that my son is happy and enjoys going to school, which for me this is the best measure of the Adihu school's worth.
The significance of the budget cuts
And it is precisely because I am happy with the school that it is particularly difficult for me to deal with its financial demands. Only last week I was asked to pay NIS 25 for "gifts from the parents to the children for the Torah party". I am really excited about the event, but I simply can't buy my child a present for NIS 25. In addition, the parents' committee decided that I have to pay another NIS 25 each month for English lessons. This year, because of the Ministry of Education's cutbacks, English lessons for second grade were cancelled. I think that English lessons are most important, and Daniel is enthusiastic and even speaks a little. But I can't meet the annual enrichment fees, even with the discount I might receive. How will I cope with another NIS 250 a year, which was suddenly added? And what will happen when the Ministry of Education deducts further hours and I will have to pay for arithmetic, Bible, and Hebrew lessons?
The budget cuts harm me in various ways. On the one hand, I receive lower and lower allowances and my overall income is decreasing, even though I work. And, on the other hand, I am supposed to pay far more for the "Free Education Law". Many parents mentioned that they are simply unable to offer their children what the school normally gives, such as textbooks, cultural activities, the Karev Fund and excursions. The children experience humiliation, especially in situations such as the one described by one of the mothers who said she took her daughter out of the school she attended, because the teacher mentioned in front of the whole class that the child hadn't paid for "the cultural and excursions package".
The situation is similar with regard to group activities and extra lessons. Our children need them the same way as any other child ? in order to improve in their weak subjects, to develop a talent they have, or simply to give vent to their feelings and express themselves. These group activities are very precious. I even heard from a father told me that he deprived himself of food in order to pay for extra lessons for his son! Parents told us that they have reached a situation in which they say to their children: "You don't need the group activities." This is maybe the most painful thing, a situation in which we are forced to tell our children things that we don't believe. For several years there has been a program in Beit Shemesh that enables children to participate in the community center's group activities at ten percent of the regular price. Very few children participate in this program. The reason is simple. In order to get to the group activity with my child, I need about NIS 18 a week, NIS 36 if each child has a group. And this is provided there is enough money to purchase a youth multiple-trip ticket. If not, the price is even higher. It's difficult to understand, I know, but sometimes the NIS 18 I have in my purse is meant for bread, milk and cream cheese for tomorrow morning. Sometimes I don't have NIS 18. Not in my purse nor any other place.
Another way the educational system copes with children who live in poverty and don't function "smoothly" in school, is to transfer them to a special education framework. Many of the parents related to cases of this kind in the various groups. The participants' feeling is that the special education classes are a protected environment for children whose problems the system can't handle. In such a case a child with normal learning ability is liable to find himself in the same class as a child with severely impaired abilities.
The participants view the diagnostic procedures and the referral to a special education framework as being flawed, and from their stories it emerges clearly that they are not seen as partners in these procedures, even in cases where the referral could be justifiable. The participants described situations in which the school staff decided that the child had to move to a special education class. The mother or the father disagreed with the decision and with the diagnosis on which it was based, and sent the child to a professional who confirmed that he was capable of studying in a regular class. The painful feeling underlying these experiences is that the educational system is not interested in the wellbeing of the parents or their child, which is why the parents feel they have to engage a private specialist. Clearly this entails a large financial outlay and pushes the family into even more distress.
Violence
One of the major fears the participants expressed is that of violence in the school. One participant told us: "For example, what did they do this week in our school? Small children wrote notes in small letters, and placed a threat in each class?I'll kill you, I'll stab you, things like that. Afterwards they brought disguises, disguised themselves, and stabbed a girl." Another participant said: "Children learn violence, that's what they learn in school."
The participants' fear is not only that their children will be harmed. The exposure to an environment saturated with violence is liable to turn the children into victims of violence, but by the same token to cause them to be violent toward others. The protection that the participants talk about is to prevent their children from being violent and to prevent them from becoming victims of violence. The participants are willing to devote themselves personally to the task. One of the mothers said: "I guard the school. I walk all around the school, among the students. I examine. Violence is frightening."
I would like to conclude by saying: The feeling that the educational system does not sufficiently understand our children's behavior against the background of the economic and social distress, and does not relate to us and our various limitations, has caused many parents to feel alienated and isolated. I would like to draw attention to two issues which I feel are critical. The first is free education, not only in theory but in practice: providing equal and full opportunity for my children, like any other child in Israel, to study in good conditions in order to enable them to realize their potential. And the second issue, which in my view is the most important, is partnership. Don't throw us out of the school. On the contrary, learn from us about our children, for we are the people who love them more than anything in the world and are most interested in their wellbeing. And teach us the requirements that they need to fulfill, and also, from your experience and your knowledge, how we can help our children to overcome problems. Don't turn our financial ability into a criterion by which you judge our children. More than that: don't teach our children and also not your children that a person is measured by his economic status.
Our difficult economic situation affected him as well, and also to some extent his functioning in school. You might ask, how? Well, it's not too complicated: I couldn't give Ofer much money, just enough for transportation and that's all. I bought him very few clothes, and of course, I didn't buy him clothes with designer labels. Add to that the backpack I couldn't buy him (and we didn't have an old one, like the parents of his friends). In return I received an embittered child with a low self-image. Ofer was very aware of the difficult economic situation. I thus particularly identified with the story of one of the women in the focus groups who told about her son who overturned the principal's room in the boarding school when he discovered that his clothes had been stolen from his room. He was suspended from the school. The mother did not support her son's behavior, but understood it, not only in the narrow context of a breach in discipline, but in the wider context of the distress and his concern for her. I think about this boy who was given the clothes that his mother bought with "blood, sweat and tears", as she says, with her last cent. When our children are concerned about these things, the worry, the shame, the helplessness and the self-blaming that "because of me, things are difficult for my parents" ? all of these hinder their ability to function.
Putting out fires
I was summoned to the boarding school many times during the year. They always contacted me when the situation had reached such a low point that it was difficult to improve things, after he had already been punished and had got into a frame of mind of "doing it just for spite". I felt they expected me to come from Beit Shemesh with a magical solution, that I would scatter magic dust on him and he would suddenly get up on time or something like that. Many parents in the different groups spoke about this need for "putting out fires", a situation in which they feel accused and having failed both in the teachers' eyes as well as those of their children's who often experience them as incapable of protecting them even when the system treats them unfairly.
Today I understand that we should have sat down together, understood the problem and thought jointly about solving it. In this way I could have contributed my knowledge of my son, and they could have examined solutions which, based on their experience, are appropriate for the boarding school.
The punishment that expresses the greatest helplessness of the educational system, is suspension. Suspension includes a wide variety of punishments, not only for the child but for his family as well. The boy or girl is detached from his or her social setting: during the suspension, especially if they study in a boarding school, they are prohibited from obtaining help through social contacts with their peers, at an age when the support of friends is vitally important. They come to learn what for many years I thought was the natural order of things: that also in times of difficulty you are alone. The expulsion turns the suspended child into something exceptional, into a 'bad' or 'problematic' child at a time when the most important thing for children is to be like everybody else.
Furthermore, the child misses out on material, which makes it difficult for him to afterwards close the gap.
The parents, for their part, are afraid that the suspended child will possibly not return to school. If the child is studying in a highly regarded boarding school, the situation is even more precarious. Then it seems that all the hopes I spoke about before, that the education he received would be a springboard for a better life are revealed as false. This intensifies the parents' anxiety as well as the tension between them and the child. Thus just when the child needs a lot of support, the parents feel helpless and unable to assist him.
One debt leads to another
Bear in mind that the suspension of a boy or girl from a boarding school is also an
economic punishment. First, during the child's suspension at home his daily needs have to be taken care of; second, transportation costs are a heavy burden. I think that people who are unfamiliar with situations of poverty don't know what it means to obtain transportation fare when one's purse is empty. You wake up in the morning and start racking your brains where to get the money, and wherever you get it from it will just be compound the existing debt. In this respect I identified with many of the participants who spoke about this in the focus groups. In addition, in certain cases the parents cannot comply with the need to accompany the child to the school, whether because they work (mainly in jobs in which they are paid by the hour, don't have tenure or protection from the workers' committee) ? because this forces them to lose precious working hours and sometimes even threatens their continued employment ? or whether in the absence of sources of support, the parents are forced to travel with their babies to a distant school, all of which detracts from the effectiveness of their participation in the meeting.
My son didn't stay in the boarding school for another year. "He did not succeed in integrating and adjusting to the system," his teachers wrote at the end of the year. I think they didn't succeed in seeing the qualities and the abilities he has in him, and to be aware of the things causing him distress and how they affect him. I know that even though physically he was in the boarding school, deep down he was at home. He was worried about me: How will I manage? Am I working? When he comes home for the Sabbath, will I have money for his return journey, or will he have to arrange something for himself with friends?
For the next two years Ofer studied in junior high and high school in Beit Shemesh. They led me to understand that he couldn't continue there. His situation was terrible, but thanks to his participation in the Hila complementary education project, he didn't completely drop out of studies. Fortunately for him, some people were able to see his abilities and help him to realize them. In addition, they helped him to cope with his difficulties. I was involved in the whole process, in the small and exhausting steps: Did he get to the lesson on time? Did he get a 90 grade on the examination? They allowed me to be involved. As a result, I assumed responsibility. I was able to speak freely with Ofer about his studies, because I knew exactly what was happening there. Because of their attitude to Ofer and the way they made him a major partner, with opinions that were taken into account, he also assumed responsibility.
He completed 12 years of study and sat for his matriculation examination in some subjects. His grades were excellent.
Discrimination and racism
When I read the material that was collected in the focus groups, I saw that there are groups of people who, besides experiencing poverty and economic distress, are faced with other problematic issues.
New immigrants have to cope with language difficulties, theirs and their children's. One of the participants, a new immigrant from Ethiopia, who thinks the principal of the school her son attends is treating the child unfairly, says: "I don't have a mouth to complain [about the principal]. I don't have a mouth to bring him to court." Because of her language difficulties, even if she understands what the principal is saying, she finds it difficult to answer him.
But there are also cases of pure discrimination and racism. Another woman, also from Ethiopia, says: "?I have an 11-year-old son?he broke his leg?they called me, said that he fell, come and take him to hospital. I took him, they put his leg in plaster, and for three months he was at home. No teacher, no principal [displayed any interest]?[like] a bag of trash thrown into the bin, no one even phoned to ask what's happening with the boy. I wasn't embarrassed. I said: 'You know why you did this? Because he's a black spot. If he was an Ashkenazi or an Israeli, you wouldn't do it'". In this case this woman did find a "mouth" to express her frustration. But as long as her frustration fell on deaf ears and there wasn't anyone to really listen to the pain underlying the things she was saying, she remained alone, invisible in her struggle to belong. After all, her son lost three months of schooling! Ethiopian mothers say that in a situation of this kind they look for a school in which their children will encounter smaller doses of discrimination and expressions of racism. In these circumstances, parents are forced to forego other preferences, which I as a mother assume they have: for example, a school close to home, and one with a high standard of teaching.
Another population group that has been particularly affected is the Bedouin. The participants mentioned, for example, that they came across third-grade children who hardly know how to read. Bedouin parents complain that the classrooms are unsuitable for learning: in caravans, without heating or cooling, more than forty children are crowded into a class. According to the participants, the strong children manage somehow to learn under these conditions; those who are less strong hardly learn at all. Bedouin participants spoke about their attempts to transfer children from schools in Rahat to schools in Be'er Sheva. They complained about the complex bureaucracy that this entails and of their failure to achieve results. From what they say it emerges that the more Jewish and more centrally located the school is, the higher its level will be and accordingly the child's achievements. Similarly, one of the considerations in choosing a boarding school for the child is its central location. In sending a child to a boarding school, the parents will attempt to move him from the margins to the center, both geographically and symbolically. I understand from this that they prefer to forego their children's right to study close to home, in their language, if only they succeed in being accepted into a quality school, both in terms of its physical structure and the level of education. Who will listen to you if you are both poor and a Bedouin?
I now have two children in the education system, one in second grade in the Adihu school in Beit Shemesh and the other in kindergarten. I would like to speak a bit about the school my son attends and the positive feeling I have about it. Adihu is a community school whose principal is Rina Ben-Aharon. Since my son entered first grade, whenever I visit the school I encounter a sincere desire on the part of the staff to help to the best of their ability, and I am always greeted with a smile and a real willingness to listen. Both me and my son find the positive approach most encouraging. The teaching staff and the principal treat me as an equal partner and as an inseparable part of the system. When my son does something well they contact me, and when he has difficulties they are sufficiently alert and inform me about them. I feel a great sense of responsibility for and involvement in my son's studies, and try to impart to him the feeling of responsibility, the importance of learning, and the value that learning has for his future. I see the school as a good place whose aim is not solely to obtain good grades and to be appreciated by the Ministry of Education, but also as a place where the person behind the grades is really important for the people running it. I am pleased to say that my son is happy and enjoys going to school, which for me this is the best measure of the Adihu school's worth.
The significance of the budget cuts
And it is precisely because I am happy with the school that it is particularly difficult for me to deal with its financial demands. Only last week I was asked to pay NIS 25 for "gifts from the parents to the children for the Torah party". I am really excited about the event, but I simply can't buy my child a present for NIS 25. In addition, the parents' committee decided that I have to pay another NIS 25 each month for English lessons. This year, because of the Ministry of Education's cutbacks, English lessons for second grade were cancelled. I think that English lessons are most important, and Daniel is enthusiastic and even speaks a little. But I can't meet the annual enrichment fees, even with the discount I might receive. How will I cope with another NIS 250 a year, which was suddenly added? And what will happen when the Ministry of Education deducts further hours and I will have to pay for arithmetic, Bible, and Hebrew lessons?
The budget cuts harm me in various ways. On the one hand, I receive lower and lower allowances and my overall income is decreasing, even though I work. And, on the other hand, I am supposed to pay far more for the "Free Education Law". Many parents mentioned that they are simply unable to offer their children what the school normally gives, such as textbooks, cultural activities, the Karev Fund and excursions. The children experience humiliation, especially in situations such as the one described by one of the mothers who said she took her daughter out of the school she attended, because the teacher mentioned in front of the whole class that the child hadn't paid for "the cultural and excursions package".
The situation is similar with regard to group activities and extra lessons. Our children need them the same way as any other child ? in order to improve in their weak subjects, to develop a talent they have, or simply to give vent to their feelings and express themselves. These group activities are very precious. I even heard from a father told me that he deprived himself of food in order to pay for extra lessons for his son! Parents told us that they have reached a situation in which they say to their children: "You don't need the group activities." This is maybe the most painful thing, a situation in which we are forced to tell our children things that we don't believe. For several years there has been a program in Beit Shemesh that enables children to participate in the community center's group activities at ten percent of the regular price. Very few children participate in this program. The reason is simple. In order to get to the group activity with my child, I need about NIS 18 a week, NIS 36 if each child has a group. And this is provided there is enough money to purchase a youth multiple-trip ticket. If not, the price is even higher. It's difficult to understand, I know, but sometimes the NIS 18 I have in my purse is meant for bread, milk and cream cheese for tomorrow morning. Sometimes I don't have NIS 18. Not in my purse nor any other place.
Another way the educational system copes with children who live in poverty and don't function "smoothly" in school, is to transfer them to a special education framework. Many of the parents related to cases of this kind in the various groups. The participants' feeling is that the special education classes are a protected environment for children whose problems the system can't handle. In such a case a child with normal learning ability is liable to find himself in the same class as a child with severely impaired abilities.
The participants view the diagnostic procedures and the referral to a special education framework as being flawed, and from their stories it emerges clearly that they are not seen as partners in these procedures, even in cases where the referral could be justifiable. The participants described situations in which the school staff decided that the child had to move to a special education class. The mother or the father disagreed with the decision and with the diagnosis on which it was based, and sent the child to a professional who confirmed that he was capable of studying in a regular class. The painful feeling underlying these experiences is that the educational system is not interested in the wellbeing of the parents or their child, which is why the parents feel they have to engage a private specialist. Clearly this entails a large financial outlay and pushes the family into even more distress.
Violence
One of the major fears the participants expressed is that of violence in the school. One participant told us: "For example, what did they do this week in our school? Small children wrote notes in small letters, and placed a threat in each class?I'll kill you, I'll stab you, things like that. Afterwards they brought disguises, disguised themselves, and stabbed a girl." Another participant said: "Children learn violence, that's what they learn in school."
The participants' fear is not only that their children will be harmed. The exposure to an environment saturated with violence is liable to turn the children into victims of violence, but by the same token to cause them to be violent toward others. The protection that the participants talk about is to prevent their children from being violent and to prevent them from becoming victims of violence. The participants are willing to devote themselves personally to the task. One of the mothers said: "I guard the school. I walk all around the school, among the students. I examine. Violence is frightening."
I would like to conclude by saying: The feeling that the educational system does not sufficiently understand our children's behavior against the background of the economic and social distress, and does not relate to us and our various limitations, has caused many parents to feel alienated and isolated. I would like to draw attention to two issues which I feel are critical. The first is free education, not only in theory but in practice: providing equal and full opportunity for my children, like any other child in Israel, to study in good conditions in order to enable them to realize their potential. And the second issue, which in my view is the most important, is partnership. Don't throw us out of the school. On the contrary, learn from us about our children, for we are the people who love them more than anything in the world and are most interested in their wellbeing. And teach us the requirements that they need to fulfill, and also, from your experience and your knowledge, how we can help our children to overcome problems. Don't turn our financial ability into a criterion by which you judge our children. More than that: don't teach our children and also not your children that a person is measured by his economic status.
Edna Elimelech participated in a group that focused on education
