Travel Blog

This spring, I had the opportunity to be a part of HBHA's capstone experience: the Jewish Heritage Trip. I feel immensely grateful for this opportunity, as I have been a part of the HBHA community for 23 years.

I found my way to HBHA as a fourth-grade teacher who assisted in pioneering the IMAC classroom — a combined, multi-age classroom (fourth and fifth grades) with a rotating curriculum when class sizes were small. During this time, in addition to teaching in the general studies classroom, I found myself subbing for prayers, learning and leading birkat after lunch, learning and leading the prayer for hamotzi before lunch, and some of the Jewish Studies curriculum.  The reason: a rotating door of young Israelis who would not stay the duration of the year. I also worked in math and reading enrichment for first and second grades. This exposure led me to work with just about every student in the Lower School each school year.

When the class sizes grew and IMAC split apart, I was asked to continue teaching fourth grade, teach Middle School drama (at that time it was an after-school program, not an elective), and take the sixth-grade students on their week-long experiential trip to Camp Sabra. Again, I found myself working with students across the divisions of the school and building relationships that last to this day.

Eventually, my teaching path led me to teach 6th-grade science, math, mentoring, and Upper School PE. I taught the same students I had taught in the Lower School. Again, strengthening my relationships with them to enhance their learning and building partnerships with their parents, again, all in the interest of the students.

At the push of Howard Haas and Todd Clauer, I interviewed (I thought for practice) for the position of K-8 Principal. While it was a mountain to climb, I felt incredibly supported, as I had taught so many of the students who were in Lower and Middle School. Many of the teachers were colleagues and collaborators.

Why write all this?

Going into the trip, it was hard to know how I felt. Beyond all else, I felt immense gratitude. I am not an anxious person, and simply put, I did not know much about what would happen on the trip. I felt secure in my travel knowledge, as I was once (before having my own kids) an experienced traveler. I had known almost every student on the trip since kindergarten, and I felt confident in my abilities to work with Zohar and Sam as well as help the students through any obstacle that occurred (there were a couple).

Traveling with these students was nothing short of incredible. While they are much taller and have expanded vocabularies, they are still very similar to those nervous/shy incoming kindergarten students with totes larger than they were. One student said to me, “Do you remember when I used to cry in Kindergarten?” I replied, “Sweetie, you cried every morning till second grade. What did we do? We sat together in the hall, outside the classroom window, so we could hear and see what was going on. You and I would have the same conversation as the class, but just the two of us, so that it wouldn’t be scary. Then, at snack, which was also recess, you rejoined the group.” This student smiled and said, “Wow. I do not remember all that.” I just smiled back and said, “We have a lot of memories together, and I am proud to see how confident you are today!”

Another student said, “Do you remember when I came to the office crying in second grade?” I said, “Of course I do. Just about every day after lunch, you were really tired and emotional. We would go to the science lab together and look at the fish, lizards, and snakes until you were ready to rejoin class.” The student said, “Really?! I don’t remember that.”

Hearing the trip down memory lane, another student said, “Dr. Kyanka, remember when I would come to your office and we watched videos of my dance competitions together? You also let me sit and journal in your office when I was mad at my teachers.” I nodded and said, “I do remember, and I almost brought your old journal on the trip for you to read.” The student laughed and said, “Those were good times.”

These are just a couple of examples where many more exist. Where else can such care and attention occur? Every individual at HBHA is deeply committed to this style of care and attention. It is the attention to the whole person. The students need to feel cared for before learning can happen. They need to feel and be seen as more than a test score. This is HBHA.

Traveling to the most emotional sites of Poland and Prague was an entirely different experience. The students connected deeply to their Jewish Heritage, feeling the feelings that only they could. In some places, we were alone; in other places, there were other groups. I watched the way other students/groups/families interacted with such places as Majdanek; observing their surroundings as museum-like and seemingly a faraway time in history. Whereas our students were personally connected, rooted to the place where cruelty reigned. Some students were angry, others felt immense sadness. There is no one way to feel in such places of agony. This is an impactful point of the students' Jewish History. However, there is also hope. Visiting synagogues where prayer has been absent, the students prayed. Two students who had never wrapped tefillin did so when they felt the personal pull and connection.

This extensive trip was more than just three weeks away from home — it was exposure to life away from their bubble. In one such situation, a student asked me, “Are we the first Jewish people you have ever met?” While at first my response was to chuckle, I realized that many of these students live and breathe only in their Jewish world. I am not Jewish, and therefore have experiences different and unique from theirs. I told them, “No, I grew up with many Jewish children and attended many bar and bat mitzvahs during my own Middle School years.” This, perhaps, broadened the scope of their small world.

Visiting a synagogue preserved and restored over time was my greatest point of connection. We met a Polish man who made it his life’s work to care for the synagogue and teach the history of the Jewish people of the small town of Łańcut. He was not Jewish. His family lived in this town, cared for the synagogue when the Nazis tried to destroy it, and worked with his fellow townspeople to put the flames out when it was set on fire. He spoke to our students about how wonderful it was that they were visiting, bringing Jewish life to a place where life had been exterminated. Before opening the doors to the sanctuary, he said to us, “Am Yisroel Chai.” This experience had a profound impact on me, and I hope the students as well. It is incredible to learn of your own history, deeply rooted in the tragic events of World War II, but in the essence of the way Jenny Safir (fourth-grade teacher) teaches her students about Holocaust heroes, this man was a true hero. He was educated and compelled to educate others. He was a champion of the Jewish people, though he was not Jewish himself.

It is also important to note the character of the students on this trip. Within the three weeks, they were typical 17- and 18-year-old students. However, their character stood out in moments when they thought no one was watching. Upon visiting a mass grave memorial (our first), the students reflected on their conflicting feelings. Here we stood, in a beautiful forest. Tall trees were all around; it was a cloudless, blue sky; birds were singing, and there was a soft breeze. When thinking of the Holocaust and the various black and white images, it is hard to imagine that any day during the war was this beautiful while something so terrible was occurring. The tour guide brought dirt from Israel for the students to spread around in areas they felt connected to. Students wandered on their own, stopping to visit different graves, reading the memorials of the families and people who were buried there, intentionally placing sacred dirt upon the hallowed ground. Some students sat and reflected. Some walked hand in hand. Here, we prayed together and sang together. When it was time to leave, one student walked to the outskirts of the grounds, near the trees, and picked up trash left behind. In that trash was a song that someone had brought to sing.

I observed students consistently being present when intention was called upon, not by the adults, but by the moments themselves. I observed many students picking up trash throughout our visit, either in the city centers themselves or at the memorials we visited. I saw students supporting one another, guiding each other through challenging and spiritual times. I listened as students gave d’var Torah at dinner and connected it to the events of the trip. I listened to many Shabbat songs in which students lifted their voices (and sometimes stood on chairs), bringing ruach through music at the close of Shabbat. The impact of these moments is what will stay with me and certainly them for a lifetime.

Experiencing the Jewish Heritage Trip with these smart, talented, self-aware young adults was a gift that I never imagined being given. I do not take it for granted that I was asked to attend. I am thankful to the donors and the school for allowing me to go, and of course, I am grateful to my family, who supported me in being away for three weeks.

HBHA is not a factory education. There are few schools in this country where teachers and administrators can say to a graduating student, “I have known you since you were five.” When I reflect on the trip with fellow educators in the public school system, they marvel at the knowledge we have of the students, of the independence we have in educating each student to meet their individual needs, and the support we have from the families as we differentiate and problem-solve together. With each story I tell, I experience the magic of HBHA all over again.