Editor’s Note: Mazel Tov to Ramona Brand for leading/directing Beth-El’s Religious School for many years and as a Jewish educator for more than 40 years. She will continue teaching for several months. See several photographs of her being honored on the last day of school.
By Ramona L. Brand, Director of Youth Learning
Passing the Torch
“And you shall teach them to your children.”
This instruction from the V’ahavta section of the Shema has been my calling for over forty years. Since 1982 I have been a teacher, passionate about guiding students with excitement; encouraging their curiosity, discovery, and academic growth; and as a Jewish educator.
I have striven to model love for our deeply rooted and beautiful traditions. Passing the Torch seems an apt term as I step down from being your Director of Youth Learning because the light of imparting Jewish education will remain in our religious school with our next new director.
In Jewish tradition we uphold the belief that wisdom must passed generation to generation, L’dor V’dor and we acknowledge that retirement is not the end of a path, but the continuation of one as a mentor with accumulated knowledge to share. I will admit that I have been approaching the end of the school year with mixed feelings. Being a Jewish educator and director of synagogue supplemental schools is a position I’ve held for the last quarter century.
It is not just what I do, but who I am. It is my second skin. So it will be, indeed, a bittersweet transition over the next several months.
The past decade at Temple Beth-El has been a rewarding one.
I have seen many of our children grow from toddler to teen, from tween to college student, and occasionally from college student to teacher. I have delighted in being a part of their growth of knowledge and enjoyment of all things Jewish.
I worked with incredible, dedicated teachers who bring the best of themselves every week to our religious school. Parents became school volunteers and often became friends. We also became a second family. A Jewish family, a place for our students, where being Jewish is the norm.
As a school community, we weathered the storm of the Covid 19 pandemic with resilience and creativity. We grew in new and unexpected ways.
We celebrated consecrations, B’nai Mitzvah, Confirmation, holidays, and special events together. I hope that my passion for Jewish education, and vision of a school that brings creative, approachable, holistic, learning, firmly rooted in Jewish tradition, has been a guide for our families and community over the years. I hope it has inspired our families to have a deeper anchor in Jewish living and learning.
It has been an honor and a privilege to serve as the Director of Youth Learning for Temple Beth-El. I have gained as much as I have given.
Fortunately, it is not goodbye, but “L’hitraot, I will see you again.”
I am looking forward to working with our new Director of Congregational Learning through the High Holidays and will continue to teach in the religious school.
So, yes, it's feeling bittersweet as this school year concludes and the end of a significant chapter of my life. But I'm excited for what is ahead. More time with my family and my new grandson. And more time for me to stretch again into new and rediscovered 'skins' to wear.
Temple Beth-El Student wins National Better2Write Contest for second year in a row!
Better Together is our Intergenerational program that brings teens and seniors together for learning, friendship and Jewish discovery.
Twenty teens and seniors have been meeting this school year for an exploration of Global Jewish Peoplehood. From September to May monthly activities and presentations have included learning about Jewish communities across the globe, from Africa, Asia, South America, Eastern Europe and the Middle East. Better Together participants dove into art, music, food, literature, history, culture, tradition and family experience to gain understanding of our connectedness and unique attributes.
The year concluded with a beautiful Shabbat Dinner in May as we came together to celebrate with the core practice for Jews everywhere.
Part of each year’s program is an essay contest in which our teens relate how their participation in Better Together has challenged or shaped their understanding of senior citizens.
A panel of local judges choose the local winner and then that essay is entered into the National Better2Write Contest with Jewish students from Jewish schools across the country.
We were thrilled to learn that Carly Gerring, an 11th grader at our religious school was chosen as this year’s National Winner.
For an unprecedented two years in a row, the National High School division’s first place winner was one of our students.
We are very proud of Carly and of all our teens who entered essays. Kol H’Kavod Carly!
We are deeply appreciative of the generous grant from Legacy Heritage which funds Better Together.
Carly Gerring: Better2Write Essay
We live in a world where answers arrive instantly. Within a few seconds, I can learn about a historical event, generate a summary, or ask artificial intelligence to explain something complicated. My generation has grown up believing that information comes easily, and it will always be available.
But recently, I’ve realized something that no algorithm can teach: information is not the same as experience. This year, I read Night by Elie Wiesel. Before reading it, I already “knew” about the Holocaust. I could recall important dates, the horrific number of Jews killed, as well as important events. If someone asked me to define the Holocaust, I could. But when I read Wiesel’s words, my perspective changed. Through his personal memories, I did not just learn about history, I felt it. I could feel the fear in the cattle cars, the confusion, the loss, the grief. His voice transformed statistics into his reality. No website or AI-generated paragraph could ever replicate that depth of understanding and feeling. This book shows the Holocaust is not just information, it was a lived experience. That realization mirrors what I have discovered through my participation in Better Together.
When I sit across from senior citizens during our programs, I know I could easily search what their generation experienced. I can look up what life was like before cell phones or how communities functioned decades ago. But when the seniors tell me their experiences, it is an entirely different presentation. Their voices slow down on certain memories. Their eyes light up when they laugh about childhood traditions. Sometimes they pause, reflecting on moments that shaped who they have become. One afternoon, a senior citizen shared a family banana bread recipe with me, a dish passed down through generations. She didn’t just list ingredients, she explained when her mother used to make it, how the kitchen would smell, and how everyone would gather around the table. When I went home, I made the recipe myself. As I followed each step, I thought about her hands making it years ago. The meal was more than food; it was a connection. It was a tradition crossing generations. Nothing on the internet could have given me that same feeling, because the most important ingredient was her story.
Another moment that changed my perspective happened during a Better Together Shabbat dinner hosted at my house. Two other teens, their parents, and a senior couple, Michael and Libby, joined us around the table. As we compared our daily lives, we began talking about social media and technology. My generation documents everything: our thoughts, our meals, our opinions and often without pausing to consider the impact. Michael and Libby shared that when they were young, disagreements happened face to face, not behind screens. There were no anonymous comments, no public shaming, no permanent digital footprints. If someone said something hurtful, it wasn’t broadcast to hundreds of people in seconds. They explained that because information was not instantly accessible, they had to rely on discussion, reflection, and personal interaction. If they wanted to understand something, they asked someone older. If they disagreed, they talked it out. They learned patience because answers were not immediate. This conversation has continued to stay with me, and I try to apply it to my everyday life.
Today, we can ask artificial intelligence to explain almost anything. We can search for advice, opinions, or even emotional guidance. But listening to Libby and Michael describe a world without constant digital noise made me realize something important. When you cannot rely on a machine to think for you, you learn to think more deeply for yourself. Their wisdom was shaped by lived experience, by navigating challenges without shortcuts, and by building relationships through real conversation. They developed resilience, empathy, and critical thinking in ways that cannot be programmed. Technology gives my generation incredible tools. But sitting at that Shabbat table reminded me that tools are not the same as wisdom, as wisdom is earned.
Moments like that have shown me something powerful. In an era dominated by artificial intelligence and constant searching, it can feel easier to ask a machine than to ask a person. Technology gives us speed, convenience, and answers, but it does not provide us depth. Depth comes from eye contact and listening to someone recount a memory that still feels vivid decades later. Reading Night taught me that one person’s experience can change the way we understand an entire historical event. Better Together has taught me that the same is true in our own community. Every senior I meet carries stories that no database can replicate, and no technology can truly understand. As artificial intelligence continues to evolve, I believe programs like Better Together become even more essential. They remind us that while information may be limitless, wisdom must be shared by L’dor Vador, from generation to generation. We are not just learning about the past, we are preserving it, honoring it, and carrying it forward. Because some of the most important lessons in life cannot be searched. They must be heard. And we are truly better together.
