June 4, 2025

As an Orthodox Jewish mother, I always assumed my children would grow up immersed in our mesorah — our sacred Jewish tradition. I imagined them in yeshiva day school classrooms learning Torah, singing Shalom Aleichem on Friday nights, and walking to synagogue in tiny dress shoes. This was the future I dreamed of for my son Yonatan.

But G-d had other plans.

Yonatan was born with a genetic disorder called ADNP. Sweet, clever and full of life — but with challenges that required extra support. When we sought to enroll him in Jewish day schools, we were met with closed doors. Again and again, we heard: “We’re just not equipped.”

This wasn’t unique to our family. For decades, families like mine in Los Angeles faced a painful reality: our community lacked the infrastructure to support Jewish children with special needs. While public schools offered services mandated by law, they couldn’t provide the Jewish education that is central to our identity. The few programs that did exist were often limited in scope and resources, leaving many families without viable options.

Faced with this dilemma, we made the heart-wrenching decision to enroll Yonatan in public school to access the services he needed. While his educational needs were met, his spiritual and cultural ones were not. He missed out on learning the weekly Torah portion, davening with peers, and celebrating Yom Tov in a setting that resonated with our faith.

And increasingly, sending a Jewish child to public school comes with even greater concerns. Recently, he went on a school trip, and even though we have told his school on many occasions that he can’t eat nonkosher food, he came home and told me that he ate pizza from a nonkosher restaurant.

Incidents like that one have become a tragic motif of his time in public school.

Yonatan has come home begging us to dress up for Halloween — a holiday many observant Jews don’t celebrate. We have made decisions that we never thought we’d have to, such as sending him to school on Jewish holidays. But when that bus pulls up in front of our house and our kid with special needs begs us to go, it is easier to send him than to try and explain why we can’t.

These experiences are compounded by growing concerns about antisemitism and anti-Israel sentiment in California public schools. Some ethnic studies curricula have included content portraying Israel as a colonial aggressor or questioning Jewish peoplehood altogether. For Jewish students — especially those already navigating complex educational needs — these environments can feel isolating and unsafe.

This struggle is not mine alone. The broader Jewish community in California, particularly Orthodox families, have long faced systemic exclusion when seeking both a religious education and support for children with disabilities. This was not only emotionally devastating but legally unjust. Under federal law, California must provide all children the special education services they need. When California public schools cannot satisfy this obligation, California must partner with private schools to fill that void. And yet California prohibited religious schools from joining this effort and becoming state-certified special needs schools, forcing families to make impossible choices.

In response to this injustice, the Teach Coalition, where I serve as executive director of California, joined forces with other families and the Becket Fund for Religious Liberty to challenge the state’s policy. The lawsuit, Loffman v. California Department of Education, argued that denying special education services to children in religious schools was a violation of federal law and religious freedom.

In May 2025, we won.

The state of California settled, agreeing to stop excluding religious schools and providers from participating in federally funded special education programs. This landmark agreement is not just a legal technicality, it is a transformative step toward equity and inclusion in Jewish education.

Now, Jewish day schools in California, including those in Los Angeles, can become special needs schools, serve the Jewish special needs community and access millions of dollars in previously denied resources to support students like Yonatan. 

Now, Jewish day schools in California, including those in Los Angeles, can become special needs schools, serve the Jewish special needs community and access millions of dollars in previously denied resources to support students like Yonatan. These funds will cover essential services such as speech and occupational therapy, academic aides, psychological counseling, and more. And Jewish children with disabilities and their parents no longer have to choose between their faith and their future. Maybe most importantly, this victory sets a precedent for the nearly dozen other states that also systematically exclude religious schools from their special needs programs.

This settlement doesn’t fix everything — but it gives us something we’ve never had before: a glimpse of what’s possible. A future where Jewish day schools can begin to truly serve every child — where every Jewish child, regardless of ability, can truly thrive. We’re not there yet, but for the first time, it doesn’t feel out of reach.

 While this victory came too late for my son to benefit directly, I hope it will be a gift to those who come after — and it’s exactly why I decided to turn this personal journey into my professional mission. I joined Teach Coalition because I believe that no family should have to go through what we went through. Teach Coalition is a nonpartisan organization that fights for equitable funding and policy for nonpublic schools, including Jewish day schools. Our work continues — not only to ensure these funds are implemented, but to build sustainable, inclusive models of Jewish education across the state.

The implications are national. Other states are watching. As California goes, so may others. This is our chance to take the lead in ensuring that all Jewish children, regardless of their abilities, are embraced, supported, and educated within their community.

We often speak of chanoch al pi darko: educating each child according to their path. Yet, until now, many children were denied a path in our system altogether. That must change.

Let this be the generation that opens doors. That builds classrooms reflecting the full diversity of klal Yisrael. That proclaims: There is a seat for you here.

Because every child belongs in the story of our people. And every child deserves to learn it, live it, and love it, fully supported, fully seen, and fully Jewish.

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Miriam Mark is Executive Director of Teach CA.

As we counted the days of the Omer to Shavuot, parents and children began counting down to the end of the school year. How should we count and who counts when it comes to Jewish education? It’s worth reflecting on this tradition of counting the Omer which we have just completed. The preamble to the daily practice suggests that counting is not just a matter of marking time; it holds a symbolism that anyone who cares about Jewish education should take seriously. 

Before the daily count, it is customary to recite:

Hineni muchan u’mezuman l’kayem mitzvat aseh shel sefirat haomer.

Let’s break this down phrase by phrase. 

Hineni – Here I am. When God comes calling, this is the response, like when God first invites Abraham to be the father of monotheism or when Moses hears a voice from the burning bush, the answer is, “Hineni.” Hineni is also the word God uses to declare an action that only God can take, like “Here I am, bringing the flood waters over the land” or “Here I am, hardening the hearts of the Egyptians.” When there’s a hineni, pay attention, something big is about to happen. 

Muchan – I am ready, prepared. Present. I’m on it. 

U’mezuman – I am invited, called. I am needed here.

When we put the two words together, we double down on readiness. Being “muchan u’mezuman,” as the kids today say, is being “locked in.”

L’kayem mitzvat aseh – to proactively fulfill what is commanded of me;

shel sefirat ha’Omer – by counting the Omer.

All of this wind-up, get hyped language, drum roll please, gets us ready for a holy moment. You would think we were preparing to climb Mount Sinai or venture into a miraculously split sea. But no. We’re just navigating both the good and the hard of every day that rolls by. All of this “I’m here, I’m ready” just for the simple act of counting from 1 to 49? 

Perhaps this whole pronouncement of being ready and committed and proactive is signaling that maybe counting days is not such a simple act. Maybe the mundane is holier than we think. 

Last week my son Elijah counted out 1,000 schnitzels as he fried them in the kitchen at the IDF base where he is training for combat as a lone soldier. He told us, “I’m not exaggerating – I know it was actually 1,000 schnitzels because I HAD to count them (and by the way, now I know where the saying ‘I cooked for an army’ comes from”). His friend Adiel counted 1,000 yogurts. Just like the counting of the harvest and the sheaths of wheat in ancient times, each one mattered. Counting matters. Being prepared matters. Fulfilling a mundane purpose in service of something holy, matters.

Most Jewish educators have the chance to inspire far more than 1,000 souls; most likely they lose count after a while. But I guarantee they remember their students’ names and personalities. Because when students are navigating the Omer of their lives, trudging through the in-between times, the daily struggles, their educators are there for them. You see, Jewish educators don’t just develop lesson plans and curricular materials. They develop humans.

Jewish educators are woefully undervalued. In the hierarchy of professions that make Jewish parents proud, education does not count anywhere near the top. But it should. Because Jewish educators are the ones who say hineni the most, and sadly, they are rarely rewarded enough for stepping up. They are answering a calling, they are prepared, they are proactively fulfilling what God needs of them. We need them. We need more of them.

The community must remember that educators are navigating the Omer of their own lives as well – toiling from one harvest to the next. They may wonder sometimes what led them to jump into the land bridge as the sea split, learning as they wander through the desert, building a beautiful mishkan every day, receiving and giving Torah. They do this with the Jewish people all kvetching along behind them. Somehow, they have to get everyone to the Promised Land before the bell rings. Let’s just say, it’s harder than counting to 49. 

I shared this message of the counting of the Omer with my newly-minted masters of educational leadership students last week as we celebrated the completion of their studies at Hebrew Union College. Here is an excerpt of my charge to them: 

“What message are we to take from this ritual of counting the Omer with so much preparation, presence and intention?

What you do for people during the everyday, what you teach them to see and appreciate during the Omer of their lives, that’s the essence of being a Jewish educator. You never know if you’re going to pose a question, suggest feedback, share encouragement, or offer wisdom on a random day of someone’s life that will change them forever. Every day counts.

When it’s time to count, heed the call. Say Hineni. Because you count. You’re ready. Your presence is essential. 

Make every day count.

Make every student count.

Make your choices count.

Make your words count.

Make your voice count.

You have the capacity to be a blessing and to plant and harvest so much good in the world.

You just have to remember that you are muchan u’mezuzan. Say hineni and start counting.”

I pray these young new recruits will resist the burnout that has become contagious and stay in the field for a lifetime. The Jewish community needs to do more to cultivate, incentivize, and nurture our educators. To the community, I ask that you use Shavuot, the time when we celebrate learning Torah, as an opportunity to honor the Jewish educators who have made a difference in your children’s lives. For that matter, reach out to an educator who inspired you and thank them too. They will likely still say “Hineni.”

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Miriam Heller Stern, Ph.D. is associate professor and directs the School of Education at Hebrew Union College and is the Incoming CEO of Builders of Jewish Education, Los Angeles. She is privileged to have had many beloved students around the globe (and has lost count.)