Beyond the Headlines: Reframing How Students Learn Through Experience

In today’s social media age, students are often expected to take strong stances on global conflicts before they have had the opportunity to engage with them meaningfully. Israel, in particular, is frequently reduced to a flashpoint—discussed more as a symbol of ideology than as a real country with people, pressures, and progress.

This narrowing of perspective is rooted in distance. Without meaningful exposure to a country and its people, students are left to form conclusions about faraway places based on filtered content, secondhand narratives, and whatever happens to trend that week. That may feel efficient, but it rarely produces real understanding. The most valuable insights often require time, dialogue, and a willingness to engage.

As a Bukharian Jew—a group of Jews who emigrated from the Persian Empire due to religious persecution and settled in central Asia, what is now Uzbekistan and Tajikistan—I have always felt a cultural and personal connection to Israel. But that connection deepened, and took on new dimensions, through my involvement with TAMID at UCLA, a student-led organization that introduces undergraduates to Israel’s business landscape through investment, consulting, and hands-on experiences. I joined the investment fund program, where I led company analysis of Israeli business, conducted financial modeling, and presented strategic recommendations to fund managers and business executives. The work was rigorous and technical, but it was also eye-opening.

As we researched startups, I encountered companies tackling real-world problems amid great challenges. We studied water technologies built for arid deserts, cybersecurity platforms designed for evolving threats, and biotech firms producing global breakthroughs. For many of us, it was our first real look at how Israeli companies operate amid regional instability, resource constraints, and a culture defined by urgency, clarity, and invention, all of which combined to fuel, not hinder, entrepreneurship.

Many of the students I worked with stayed connected to the Israeli companies, continuing to offer support or pursue job opportunities. Others brought the Israeli business mindset we encountered—fast-moving, collaborative, strategically grounded—back to the United States, applying those principles across a wide range of industries, from venture capital to nonprofit work. Regardless of the path, the common thread was clear: the experience in Israel did not just influence what we did—it reshaped how we thought, worked, and led.

What surprised me most was getting to know Israeli Defense Force soldiers and how often they spoke not about war, but about peace—about their hope for a future where families feel safe and cooperation defines the region. These stories were real and raw, and they gave me a more complete picture of Israel—not just as a country navigating conflict, but as a society full of individuals pursuing purpose and progress in an environment more complex than most outsiders realize.

Being there, speaking face-to-face, and witnessing firsthand how Jewish, Arab, and Christian people lived and worked together in everyday coexistence—that is what changed everything for me. It moved Israel out of the realm of headlines and into human experience. It was particularly powerful to see people of all different colors and ethnicities in the outdoor shuk selling goods, singing, dancing, playing backgammon and enjoying jachnun, a traditional Yemenite Jewish pastry. Coexistence was not just possible, it was happening right before my eyes.

This is what experiential learning does. It challenges assumptions and complicates narratives. It turns abstract opinions into informed perspectives. And it gives students the opportunity to contribute to something real rather than merely comment on it from a distance. Too often, the conversations students have about Israel are driven by ideology, not inquiry. The pressure to take a stance often overrides the slower, more difficult process of developing understanding. But working directly with Israeli teams through investment research, consulting, and dialogue taught me how much more there is to learn when we approach people and places through engagement rather than judgment. These experiences showed me how Israelis lead, solve, and adapt. More importantly, they taught me that understanding is built through immersion in the stories as they unfold.

Israel, for us, became a case study in creativity under constraint, a reminder that resilience is a daily practice, and a model for how real insight is developed by showing up, listening, and working alongside others. Higher education needs to encourage students to step into complexity, engage with people on the ground, and replace rushed conclusions with intellectual curiosity. Some lessons cannot be taught. They have to be lived.

If we want the next generation to lead thoughtfully in a complicated world, we need to create more spaces for them to engage directly—with people, with problems, and with places that challenge what they think they know. Real understanding does not come from a headline or a hashtag. It comes from conversation. It comes from connection. And above all, it comes from experience—like sitting across from someone your age whose life looks wildly different, and realizing just how much you still have to learn.

Robert Davydov is a graduate of Loyola Law School in Los Angeles and UCLA and currently practices law in San Diego.