We all know the saying, “the best teachers are also the best students.” Few things bring a Jewish educator more joy than when students are so excited about what they are learning — and living — that they offer up teachings of their own.
At Congregation Beth Torah’s Weiner Religious School, that happens more often than you might think, and the gems our students share never cease to amaze.
Beth Torah’s 6–8th grade teen program, T.A.G. — representing Torah, Avodah and Gemilut Chasadim from Pirkei Avot 1:2 — focuses on learning sacred texts, engaging in prayer and action, and practicing acts of lovingkindness. While middle schoolers have a reputation for being a tough crowd (and let’s be honest, sometimes they are), their depth of knowledge and curiosity is remarkable. As educators, our job isn’t just to teach — it’s also to listen. In a world full of noise, sometimes the most meaningful role is simply to be still.
At T.A.G., we gather weekly to explore Judaism in ways that are both traditional and deeply relevant to students’ lives. Our conversations move fluidly between ancient texts, modern Reform perspectives, and whatever music, apps or trends are shaping their world. Occasionally, I catch myself doing the thing we all swore we wouldn’t — turning into our parents. (“I’ve never heard of this music… but have you heard of Kosha Dillz?” Worth a try.)
Just when I think students have been lost to the algorithm, they surprise me. A discussion about Jewish identity or current events quickly becomes a thoughtful, sometimes heated debate. Students compare what they hear at school, in synagogue and online — often navigating very different narratives. They aren’t interested in neatly packaged answers. They question, wrestle and push back — which is, in many ways, deeply Jewish. After all, argument and inquiry are part of our tradition.
Recently, a conversation about antisemitism was sparked by the 2026 Super Bowl commercial from Robert Kraft’s Blue Square Alliance Against Hate. It was one of our most meaningful discussions. Students thoughtfully critiqued the commercial’s tone and messaging, with some feeling it missed the mark and others appreciating the effort while wishing it had been framed differently. Following it up with a parody ad also sparked debate. The takeaway wasn’t whether the ads were right or wrong — it was that our students are thinking critically about Jewish representation and their responsibility to use their voices. They are active interpreters of culture.
Another powerful moment came during a visit to the Michael Klein Collection at The Temple, Congregation B’nai Jehudah. Surrounded by ritual objects and artwork, students were asked to choose something that spoke to them. One student stood quietly in front of a tallit. When asked why, they pointed to their own tzitzit and explained they now wear them daily as a visible expression of their Judaism.
When I asked why, their response was simple and profound: “Pride, visibility and the choice to be openly Jewish in a world where that can sometimes feel complicated.” Wearing tzitzit, they explained, was their way of responding to antisemitism — an act of identity and quiet protest.
In that moment, the exhibit faded. The lesson was no longer about objects, but about courage and ownership of identity. Their confidence made me reflect on my own habits. Why don’t I wear my Jewish star more often? How can we, as educators, create spaces where Judaism feels approachable, inclusive and safe to express openly?
Reflecting on my own Jewish voice was a wake-up call. Thank you to the T.A.G. students for reminding us why showing up with curiosity, courage and confidence matters.
An old rabbinical teaching says, “When the wind moves through the tzitzit, it is like the commandments tapping you on the leg saying, ‘Remember who you are.’”
This is what the Weiner Religious School is really about. Yes, students learn that tzitzit connect us to the 613 mitzvot. More importantly, they learn that their voices matter — and that being informed, thoughtful and proud of who they are is essential.
Sometimes the eggs still teach the chickens. What a gift when our students remind us how to be curious, brave, questioning and proud of this beautiful tradition.
If you have thoughts about conversations happening in your own classrooms — about antisemitism, identity or anything in between — I would love to hear from you at .
In a true community of learners, we are both the teacher and the student.
