Toby Klein Greenwald

Almost every great organization or institution begins with a personal story. I discovered one such school-therapy network in Israel — the SulamSpecialEducationCenter. "Sulam" is Hebrew for "ladder," because they appear to be helping many children with disabilities climb higher than they ever thought possible.

In the case of Sulam, the inspiration came from a woman whose eyes and heart were open enough to see someone else's story. I think there is something in her story from which we all can learn.

It had modest beginnings. Mrs. Feiga Ernster, a native Chicagoan, married in Israel and opened a small neighborhood playgroup. A neighbor in her building asked if her disabled son could join the group.  She agreed, and soon other mothers of children with special needs heard about this playgroup that would accept their children.  Mrs. Ernster realized that she was addressing a problem that she hadn't even known existed.

Ernster decided to make her naturally inclusive playgroup more official, and began the bureaucratic process of hiring professional staff, obtaining permits and licenses and evaluating the children in order to address their individual needs – a daunting challenge, but one which she undertook with love and dedication, opening her first official class in 1981.

That dedication continues to impact on the special atmosphere I encountered at one of their Jerusalem branches, which I visited recently, on a sunny winter day.

A staff member ascended with me from floor to floor, pointing out the colorful rooms filled with joyful children. "Mainstreaming was in place at Sulam long before the word became fashionable," Chana Kallner, Sulam's Director of Development told me. "The professional staff at Sulam feel that all children gain from ongoing interaction with special needs kids. And so, from a small playgroup, run by a woman of great heart and the talent and organizational capacity, Sulam has grown into a premier special needs organization."

Today Sulam has ten branches throughout Israel. When I looked over their annual report, a number of things caught my eye. First of all, Sulam is supervised by nine government and municipal offices, which means there is full accountability.

Chana says that they believe that the treatment and care Sulam offers during the critical toddler and early childhood years is of immeasurable benefit to the future development of these children. It is a known truth in any area of education – that the younger we get to them, and the more personal the interaction, the greater chance for success. What I saw on my visit was small, cheerful classes, clearly enabling each child to receive a more individualized program.

Warmth and Caring, professionalism facilitate mainstreaming

I observed an extraordinary atmostphere of warmth and caring. The Sulam directors say their high success rate is due to this attitude of their staff, and also to their professionalism. Their goal is to achieve integration into mainstream educational systems where possible; they claim to achieve this with 30% of the children. Indeed, their mission statement is "to enable children with special needs to attain the highest quality of life they are capable of achieving, with the ultimate goal: each child’s successful integration in society."

Esther Ernster, daughter-in-law of the founder, is the director of Sulam today. She stepped into the role thirteen years ago, at the request of her mother-in-law, as a co-director, and since 2012 has been the official director.

"The nondisabled children learn to interact and appreciate the 'others' in their lives," writes Ernster in her annual report. In addition, she says, "Sulam has seen a sea change in the parents of the nondisabled children, which is especially gratifying. From their initial reluctance to allow their normal children to learn and play with 'different' children, the parents have come to see the benefits of such a system. This marks a dawning awareness in the community, and a willingness to see integration as the norm, rather than something to be feared and avoided."

One-to-one staff to student ratio

There are approximately 500 children in Sulam's various programs, ranging in age from 6 months to 17 years, in centers in Jerusalem, Beit Shemesh, Modi'in Illit (Kiryat Sefer) and Kiryat Yearim, with almost 500 full and part time staff and 55 National Service volunteers. The staff includes special education teachers, paramedical therapists, counselors, educational advisors, psychologists, social workers, a pediatric neurologist and tutors.

Therapies include speech and communication, occupational, physical, music, zoo, play, sport. More exotic therapies include “Floortime” Therapy (D.I.R. Program), which helps children with communication disorders learn to interact with others through an individualized approach, where caregivers enter the child’s world, share his feelings, and help him learn to relate to the world around him, and Multi-Sensory Treatment in a Snoezelen, which Improves sensory balance, promotes calm and well-being, arouses passive children. Most of the centers offer full day programs.

They address the needs of the rest of the family, as well, with private sessions, support groups, seminars and conferences, that help parents and siblings cope and accept the child with special needs as an integral part of the family. The combination of knowledge and love appears to give the families the tools they need to cope and to feel comfortable, capable and loving toward their disabled child.

Afternoon enrichment programs help students develop in the non-scholastic areas, such as art, music and dance. Sulam provides programming during most regular school vacation days, which helps provide parents with time to give to their other children.

Generosity breeds generosity

Sulam offers free evaluations for parents who suspect developmental problems in their children. The organization participates in research projects and has pioneered many new treatment methods.

In addition to private donors, Sulam enjoys the support of the Jewish Agency, PEF, and the Sobell, Bachrach, and Donald Berman Foundations. Sulam has also received help from businesses, such as Bank Yahav, Checkpoint, Discount Bank Investments, the Israel Electric Company and Mercantile Bank. These have all contributed funds for specialized therapeutic programs or equipment.

The network has won several prestigious awards, including the Trump Chessed Award and the Jerusalem Mayor's Award.

One family's story

I spoke with the mother of a Sulam student. I'll call her "Devorah" and her son "Moshe."

Devorah, originally from New York, says, "From 18 months old we knew that something was a little 'off' but we could not put our finger on where the problem lay.  He didn't know how to deal, at three years old, with normal social situations that arose. He would wonder, 'Why am I being punished?' and there was a lot of discommunication. He was constantly getting into trouble and he couldn't be in a regular pre-school. He didn't appear to be on the spectrum of autism so it was hard to get a diagnosis. As he grew older social acclimation was not progressing — he just was not coping with the situations, nor did the standard school have the resources and/or know how to deal with him.

"Academically he excelled to be one of the top students in the class, but socially he was falling way behind, causing him significant low self esteem, etc.  At first the staff tried above and beyond the standard to help him succeed, at which point the unanimous decision was that he would be better off in a smaller school with children of the same intelligence level.  The problem was that no such school existed in Israel.  After much worry over the summer vacation about how to proceed the following school year, which was due to start in two weeks, Sulam announced that they will undertake to open a class for the coming year.

"I don't know where Moshe or we would be today if not for Sulam. The professionals there totally took control, assessed him almost on the spot, and they're dealing with it. He's been there since 2010.

"In the beginning it was rough for him, like any new place, but even so, it was still a thousand times better than where he was before, where he had no self worth anymore. They had really tried in his previous school, they did their best, but they just did not have the skills. Even when there was initial turmoil while he was settling in to Sulam, he was still gaining. The teachers there really learn with him, they know it's his bar mitzva soon. He'll be 13 after Pesach. They are saving his life."

I asked Devorah for an example or two of how Sulam is different from a "regular" school.

"The main thing is that things that would be not acceptable in a regular school are understood by the staff at Sulam as him behaving a certain way not because he's trying to be mischievous, so it doesn't become a battle. I don't get called every day. They work with him and explain why it's not acceptable. The kids feel very close to the teachers. If something happens that they'll have to deal with, I usually know about it, but my son doesn’t have to know about it. For example, there was an issue last year on the bus; some of his behavior and speech was not acceptable, and this was going on for about a year. Maybe he would hit another child, or fight with someone, or speak inappropriately, and the driver wasn't happy but the school kept saying, 'There is no such thing as not letting a certain child ride on this bus; we'll deal with it.' The principal even said, 'If you don't allow this child on the bus, I'm taking every kid off. I believe in him and he did not do what you claim that he did.'

"He showed my son that he trusted him and he told me, privately, 'Believe me, I was nervous [because they really needed that bus company],' but it turned Moshe around. The principal knows every child, he encouraged one of the teachers to take Moshe to the mincha prayers, and he loves it. Moshe even asked my husband if he could study the Talmud with him, like he does with his brother. Right now they are giving him so many skills, I am no longer worrying about the future."

Devorah's husband adds, "I see the greatest advancement this year. Each year I get more inspired. From when he went in untill where he is at now, he's a totally different person. He has potential and they're helping him achieve it, I never thought it would be so fast and so easy and go so well."

Devorah says, "It has been a blessing."

Today's director: A Hassidic mother of nine children

Ernster says, "The specialty of Sulam is that we offer an answer for every request; if there is a problem, we find a way to help. That is how so many frameworks and classes developed over the years, through our desire to respond to the needs and our decision to turn no one away. As a result, today we have programs that address a wide variety of issues. Every branch has its specialties and its specialists so the children have access to a wide variety of professionals.

"As a result of this expansive network, we sometimes discover that children had not been properly assessed. For example, many children who were thought to be autistic turned out to have emotional problems. Children who were thought to have developmental problems were discovered to have communication issues.  Those who worked with them in the areas of communication discovered fears or emotional issues. We are able to identify the real problem.

"We have Observation Kindergartens for children who come with delayed development. We observe them and in the course of the years we figure out what the problem is and then it turns out he didn't have learning disabilities, for example, or that sometimes the behavior disturbances were due to a sensory problem, but to arrive at that conclusion we needed many of the best professionals in the area and at Sulam we have the highest level of interdisciplinary staff."

Ernster emerged from the field of regular education. She was a happy junior high school teacher when her mother-in-law asked her to help out at Sulam. She asked advice from the Vishnitzer Rebbe, the spiritual leader who she and her husband follow, and he encouraged her to go for it. Today, a mother to nine children, she oversees an organization with a budget of almost nine million dollars a year.

As she began to understand the breadth of what was involved, she began to take courses in management, finance and human resources at various colleges and universities. Now, she says, "I have many connections with colleagues throughout Israel. I went wherever necessary to learn from them." Today she is an active participant in a number of important professional forums.

How was it as a Hassidic mother to become an active member of this managerial and professional world?

"When one comes from a place of true mission and you want to do the job the best you can, then you go to the places from which you'll learn. I believe in using the highest level professionals. This also gives us a sense of confidence in spite of government cutbacks. We're surviving, but it's not easy."

She says that Sulam's two greatest challenges at the moment are replenishing the 30% loss they have taken by the Ministry of Education's cutbacks on therapies, a challenge many schools are dealing with. "We can't do less, so we spend more than we receive."

The other need is the special project they are in the midst of completing at their branch in northern Jerusalem. "We are finishing the building of a therapeutic swimming pool and what we need now is the equipment for the pool. It has been proven in recent years that hydrotherapy can significantly help many different problems. Sulam feels an obligation not only to our children but also to the greater community in this area that will benefit from a therapeutic pool."

Ernster and her colleagues are inspiring and prove that knowledge and love can help any child climb that ladder to a better life.

For more information visit: www.sulamisrael.org

 By Toby Klein Greenwald

“Those who educate children well are more to be honored than they who produce them; for these only gave them life, those the art of living well.”
                                                                         ? Aristotle

“There are two kinds of teachers: the kind that fill you with so much quail shot that you can't move, and the kind that just gives you a little prod behind and you jump to the skies.”
? Robert Frost

Since I've already written about advocating for your children in school, when they aren't lucky enough to get teachers who are all perfection, I think the least I can do is write about teachers I had who I appreciate.

I should add here that I'm a teacher, too, and nothing makes my day like meeting a student from years ago who told me I changed his/her life. But this post is about others. And as I reread it, I realize that the teachers who I remember best are the ones who had faith in me, who were fun in some way, who taught me lessons in life, not just in the subject matter, and who were role models. This is only Grades 1-12. College will wait for another post!

At the end, there is plenty of space in the comments for you to add your own thank you's! Please do!

So here goes:

• I appreciate Mrs. Fredman, my second grade teacher at Millikin Elementary School, in Cleveland Heights, about whom I remember almost nothing other than the fact that she always spoke with a soft voice. She also published my first poem in our class newspaper that year. And I remember that she came to school in maternity clothes from which I learned that one can work and be pregnant at the same time.

•  I appreciate my fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Wood, at the same school. She was strict but with a twinkle in her eye. That was the only year (until my M.A. degree) that I got straight A's. (Okay, it was also the year my parents experimented with taking the TV out of the house.)

• I appreciate my 7^th grade Chemistry teacher at Monticello Junior High (whose name I don't remember, but who was always happy and excited about what we were learning) and my 10^th grade Biology teacher, Mrs. Betty Neustadter, at the Hebrew Academy. In both their classes, I loved science. In the 7^th grade, I remember biking all over Cleveland, with a friend, looking for a store that would sell us mercury so we could prove it possible to separate it (presumably on my mother's stove), in spite of the fact that scientists said it couldn't be done. (Surprise: nobody sells mercury to 12-year-olds.) In Mrs. Neustadter's class, we pricked our fingers to get our blood types (I learned that my blood type is O-, the universal giver), she didn't force us to dissect frogs and she spoke to us as if we were adults.

• I appreciate my 9th-10th grade French teacher, Mrs. Gladys Kraus. I struggled to maintain a C, but totally imbibed the spirit of French (and kindness) from her.

• I appreciate my 10^th grade Geometry teacher, Mrs. Jokinen. She seemed to just "flow" in class, and didn't really act like a teacher. It was the only high school year in which I got an A in math, I think because Geometry entailed drawing pictures.

• I appreciate my 11^th grade English teacher, Mrs. Kadish, who was not only a scintillating teacher, but fun to look at, since she always dressed with full make-up  and spike heels. And she accepted, as a paper on Macbeth, a little booklet that I wrote as if it were a play, with accompanying facing notes.  A confession: I thought the book Mayor of Casterbridge was boring, never read the whole thing, and faked the exam.

• I appreciate my 12^th grade English teacher and English yearbook advisor (I was the English editor), Mrs. Judith Oster, who taught me more about plunging the depths of poetry and how to edit and self-edit than I could ever put in one blog.  One of her famous lines, when we said we didn't have time to read, was, "My father used to say to me, 'What do you do between four and six in the morning?'" I have passed that on to many generations of children and students.

• I appreciate all  my teachers in Hebrew/Religious schools, who taught me about God, destiny  and belief. They are too numerous to name. That will be a separate blog some day.

I had planned on writing about my children's teachers, who I appreciate, but my kids can write their own blog (or add their comments, below).

A colleague of mine posted the fact that, "Even though around 75% say that a past teacher had a direct impact on their future success, only 25% of respondents have ever sent a gift or thank you card to a teacher." You can read more about that survey at Kars4Kids.

Please add comments, below, about teachers who YOU appreciate! Either your own, or your children's.

And then drop them a line, telling them so.

Have a great day.

By Toby Klein Greenwald

 To be more exact, it's a tale of giving an old stove away.

We are lucky to live in a small town in Israel filled with kindness. We have a non-profit that arranges for interest-free loans, a "store" that sells donated, gently used clothing for a few dollars, a similar "shop" whose merchandise is donated house wares, a kitchen that distributes food packages to the needy, a center for bridal dresses at symbolic loan prices, and the branch of an organization (Yad Sarah) that loans equipment for medical needs and for newborns.

The town has people of all ages who volunteer to help the elderly or infirm, who raise money for charity, who work as volunteer tutors, who gives rides to hospitals or elsewhere and who host strangers who need a good meal.

 In addition, the local community e-mail list has achieved a somewhat entertaining notoriety, not only for its sharing of stories and humor (and hot political debates), but for its offers to sell or give away unneeded items (ranging from bookcases to DVD's to chicken necks) and, more important, to let neighbors know about the needs of others.

An elderly woman recently wrote to the list about five local high school boys who swooped in one day, did her cleaning, painted and repaired furniture, and planted window boxes for her. "They came into my home and made it my castle…I don't remember all their names," she wrote. "To the parents: you have much to be proud of in your children."

Naturally, the list is especially active in the springtime, when many of those of the Jewish faith thoroughly clean their homes before Passover, and give things away that are no longer needed.

Which brings me to my story.

Our oven died a final death in the midst of winter and, since my daughters are the main bakers in our family, and most of them have their own homes in which to bake now, we decided to make do with the stovetop and buy a new stove before Passover.

What to do with the old one? Simple enough – offer it for free on the e-mail list, explaining that only the stove worked.

I got two replies. One from a man, I'll call David, who picks up old electrical appliances, sells the parts and recycles the rest.  A few hours later I got a request from a man who lives alone, who I'll call Solomon. I mentioned it to David when he called to double check about when to pick up the stove. He said, "Then give it to him. He needs it more." But I had David stop by to take away an old broken TV. He noticed some sheet music in the den and asked who played an instrument and proceeded to tell me that he is a cantor and musician and does this selling-recycling on the side for extra money. Nevertheless, David insisted that if Solomon needed the stove, I should let him have it.

So I wrote to Solomon, asking if he was also selling it for parts or needed it to cook on, explaining that if it was the latter, he should take it.

Solomon wrote back, "No, let him have it. I’ve a one-burner hotplate I can manage with. One's livelihood is the most important, and I never cook much anyway – thanks!"

At the time of this writing we were less than a week before Passover and there was almost a reverse bidding war taking place between two men, each insisting that the other need the oven more.

The story that comes to mind is an ancient legend of two brothers, one who had a large family and the other who had none. Each would sneak over a hilltop at night to anonymously bring sheaves of wheat to the other. One thought, "I have a family. He has no one. He needs it more than I." The other thought, "I have no family. He has many mouths to feed. He needs it more than I." One night they met on the hilltop, each saw what the other was doing, and they embraced. The Hebrew sages say that this was the spot destined to build the Temple in Jerusalem, where people would gather in unconditional love.

Please share your own stories of unconditional love with us! We know it is everywhere. Post in the comments below or write to me

Toby Klein Greenwald

I have some friends who think they're doing their children a favor when they rescue them.

I don't mean that they jump into a pool or grab their kids out of the street when a car is coming. Neither am I dissing advocating. (See my column on "Mounting the School Barricades – How to Advocate for your Child.") And there is a difference between rescuing and advising; as parents, it's our duty to advise.

I mean rescuing children from the consequences of their own actions.

One of my friends, before a major family weekend event, told me she had five speeches to write. "Five!?" I exclaimed. "How many times can they listen to you?" "No," she said, "they aren't just mine. One for me, one for my husband, one for my son, one for my daughter…" "And if you don't write them?" "They won't get done." "So?"

One of our sons, I'll call him "Mitch," was docked from a wonderful three-day school trip when he was eleven years old, because he had started a fight with a classmate. To his credit, he didn't deny it. I called the teacher just to get the details, but did not argue with his decision, though I thought it was harsh. To assuage the disappointment just a little, we took Mitch to see a film one night. Unfortunately, our choice – The Day After Tomorrow, about a nuclear holocaust – was hardly a hoot. One could argue that offering a (lame) consolation prize is a rescue of sorts, but we didn’t try to talk his teacher out of his decision to dock him from the trip. Five years later Mitch became a counselor to troubled youth, to whom he imparted the message: Take responsibility for your actions.

When I mentioned it to a colleague, ten years later, during a discussion on "rescuing," he asked if taking Mitch to a film was not a "rescue" of sorts. I asked Mitch what he had thought about it at the time. He said that he didn't remember the story too well, but his assumption was that, on the one hand, we always mounted the barricades when we thought a teacher was really wrong, so he understood that at the time he must have deserved a punishment. On the other hand, we're not his teacher; we're his parents. And it was obvious, he said, that one could not have compared one evening at the movies with parents to three whole days of a great school trip with friends. He said, "You probably thought, 'He's learned his lesson,' and as my parents, you didn't think I needed to sit depressed in the house for three days."

Some Ground Rules

Even those who are closest to us need to be informed that we are neither their slaves nor their saviors.

Here are some ground rules, culled from real life — metaphors you can share with your children:

"You break it, you buy it." It's your decision if you don’t want to hand in your assignments, or behave abominably in school, or show up late for that summer job. But you mess up – you take the consequences. You want to fix it? To change the verdict (when they drop your grade or fire you)? Do It Yourself. Plead your case.

"Wear white at night." Be visible. If you don't speak up, they won't know you're there. Neither teachers nor employers (nor family members, nor friends) are mind-readers. If you have something to say, say it – respectfully. A career expert I heard on the radio once advised that an employee should always: Do the job your boss wants you to do, and let your boss know what you've done, including extra initiatives. Translated to your children’s ages: Follow instructions and don’t expect Mom or Dad to approach the teacher after the fact and plead that you were being creative by painting a picture instead of handing in a book report. If you really want to do that, speak up. Dialogue with the teacher. Don’t be invisible.

"Don’t bite the hand that feeds you. And if you did, you apologize." Whether it's your dad or your boss, don’t expect a pat on the head and more ice cream if you're rude or untrustworthy. And don’t expect your parents to explain to your teacher that you had a bad day or your cat died.

It is difficult to watch our children mess up, whether in small, inconsequential situations or in the really big ones. I have a daughter who insisted on wearing clothes to kindergarten whose color and pattern scheme were totally post-modern. Years later she looked at photographs and asked me, “What were you thinking?” What I was thinking was that it was more important to me that she develop independence than a fine fashion sense, so I grit my teeth and closed my eyes. Today she has a fabulous fashion sense but she is also one of the most proactive, independent young women I know, well worth the torture of watching her walk out the house in those mismatched components at age five.

But on a more serious note – the son of a close friend of mine, who is raising her children in a single-parent family, was busted for sharing pot with his friends when he was sixteen. She let him cool his heels in the local juvenile lock-up for five days, rather than come home for house arrest, before he was assigned to a youth detox center. She was shattered. And when she shared her heartbreak with me, she also told a story. She said that another parent, whose daughter was a friend of her son’s, met her at the supermarket one day and said, “You’re my hero.” “Why?” she asked. The parent said, “Because you didn’t agree to let him home on house arrest.” My friend was nonplussed and, by her account, she replied, “It wasn’t an option for even a blink of an eye. I didn’t deserve the punishment; he did,” she said. Her son eventually got drug-free, finished high school and became self sufficient. “He knows that he can come to me for moral support,” she said, “but not to bail him out of financial difficulties or in any other way. More than my other two children, he recognizes that he’s on his own. I told him one day, while he was still in detox, ‘Be aware that you’ve lost our trust and it will be a very long haul to win it back.’”

Consequences. They hurt. But they work.

If we teach our children lessons in life, hopefully, we will not have to toss them a life jacket.

They will have learned to swim.