International M.A. in Education

The school year is already well underway — the excitement of early September now behind us — but for me, the energy of that season still lingers. I was born on August 31st, literally the very last day of summer break, and my eldest daughter was born at the beginning of September, so this time of year has always carried emotional weight. Since I’ve been involved in education 24/7, that sense of anticipation has only grown stronger over time.

Last year, I decided to take my work in education one step further. After years of experience and various trainings, I joined the Melton Program for a Master’s degree in Jewish Education, in English, online, at the Hebrew University. It wasn’t my first master’s degree, not even my first in English, and not my first at the Hebrew University. I assumed I would move through it easily — juggling classes, projects, graduate studies, and life itself without much strain.

The first week quickly proved otherwise. Even remotely and online, studying at the Hebrew University is demanding. I began with four courses and immediately reduced them to three. It was clear this would require focus and commitment.

Now, after an intense year of papers, forums, Zoom sessions, articles, group work, and projects, I can say it was absolutely worth it — far more interesting, meaningful, and even exciting than I had expected.

In one of the projects — modestly called a “mini-project” (the real final project still lies ahead) — in the course Vision in Jewish Education with Professor Sinclair, we were asked to design a short curriculum of up to ten lessons based on one of the theories we studied, including vision, standards, and concrete lesson plans.

I searched for inspiration, connected different ideas, and ultimately developed a short program built around Israel’s well-known culture of entrepreneurship. To my surprise, I genuinely enjoyed designing it. After revisions, feedback, and strong encouragement, I decided to take the project beyond theory and implement it in real life.

That is how “Young Entrepreneurs” was born — a program for Jewish/Israeli children in the Netherlands (for now, with potential to expand).

Given my already full weekday schedule, I chose to dedicate Sundays to the program — every other week (after all, this is the Netherlands; weekends matter). We launched in September, and the groups filled quickly.

The idea is to combine Hebrew learning and Israeli culture, strengthen the bonds among the children, and at the same time nurture creativity and entrepreneurial thinking.

Each session centers on a concept, theme, technique, or material — paper and origami, bridge building, color mixing, lettering and writing styles, building a sukkah, even baking. Every meeting begins with a demonstration of the session’s core concept. The children then apply what they’ve learned, either by recreating the demonstration or by inventing something of their own inspired by it.

Everything takes place in Hebrew (with support for those less fluent). The children explore materials in the studio or online, enriching both their language and their knowledge in a dynamic, hands-on atmosphere. And of course, there are snacks, music, and Banji the dog (for those who aren’t afraid).

To teach the various techniques and principles, I brought in instructors and experts in engineering, origami, electricity, and even knitting.

Now, several months into the program, it is incredibly rewarding to see how the children are growing — in confidence, creativity, language, and connection. I’m excited to see how the rest of the year unfolds.

Wishing everyone a continued productive and creative school year.

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Ayelet is an International MA in Jewish Education Student. 

While researching translation between Spanish and Hebrew, I kept returning to one puzzling question: Why would a translator devote decades to bringing Federico García Lorca’s poetry into Hebrew, despite most readers being unfamiliar with the Spanish poet? García Lorca, born in 1898, is now considered one of Spain’s greatest poets. Yet when his work first appeared in Hebrew in 1938, few people knew his name. Not only was Lorca unknown—the entire landscape of modern Spanish culture still felt distant and foreign. That first translation was driven primarily by political motives. Fascist forces executed Lorca during the Spanish Civil War, killing him by firing squad for being a liberal, left-leaning, gay, and free poet. His death rendered him the ultimate anti-fascist symbol, a reputation that rapidly gained international recognition. For years, Hebrew translators selected his poems not for their beauty, but for their political message.

This might have been the end of Lorca’s story in Hebrew—a mere footnote in political poetry. However, in the 1950s, translator Raphael Eliaz saw something different. Active in Tel Aviv’s literary circles, Eliaz looked beyond the politics, focusing instead on translating the poetry itself. As an immigrant from Bulgaria who learned Hebrew as an adult after arriving in 1923, he understood firsthand the importance of bridging languages and cultures.  After relocating to his new home, he made a point of mastering modern Hebrew, not only to live and work, but also to contribute to Hebrew culture by undertaking the ambitious task of literary translation. This was more crucial than it may seem. Modern Hebrew was still young and flexible, and every translation choice helped shape what the language could express. Given that Spanish literature was virtually unknown to Hebrew readers, Eliaz had considerable freedom to decide how Spanish poetry would sound in Hebrew. Rather than reduce Lorca to a mere political icon, Eliaz focused on what made his poetry extraordinary—his musical language and unique blend of tradition and innovation.

For over two decades, Eliaz devoted himself to translating Lorca’s key works, helping establish his enduring presence in Hebrew. He did not do this for fame—most people still do not know Eliaz’s name. Nor was it for profit—no one grows wealthy from translating poetry. And it was certainly not a simple feat—the translation challenge demanded moving between Spanish and modern Hebrew, two languages Eliaz had learned relatively late in life. Moreover, the published translations faced criticism and institutional pushback. Yet something in Lorca’s voice compelled this migrant to let it speak Hebrew. Perhaps it was the cultural landscapes that reminded him of the world he once knew, or the musical rhythms that echoed the Judeo-Spanish ballads of his childhood. Maybe it was the deep humanity that runs through all of Lorca’s work, a profound love for human life and the human condition.

Whatever combination of these elements drew Eliaz to Lorca’s poetry, his work became something more than translation. He was building cultural bridges, expanding the voices Hebrew readers would hear and the traditions that might influence their literature. Eliaz’s dedication reveals a vital aspect of how literary communities grow: not just through market forces or institutional decisions, but through the steady commitment of individuals who believe certain voices deserve to transcend linguistic and cultural boundaries. It is also an act of cultural connection that doesn’t occur overnight—it depends on a willingness to carry out work that often goes unnoticed and unrewarded, as that of the invisible translator. In a relatively limited and still-emerging Hebrew literature, individual efforts like this can carry special weight. This also means the responsibility of its members is greater.

Amid these times of polarizing politics and armed conflicts, it is only natural to reflect on Lorca’s and Eliaz’s work—particularly as we mark the 89th anniversary of Lorca’s execution in 1936. While Lorca was murdered in an effort to silence him, his poetry continues to resonate today thanks in great part to translators who willingly carried it across geographical and political boundaries. Eliaz’s endeavor, at its core, could be seen as an attempt to understand his own history, link the diverse layers of a fragmented identity, and reconcile his family’s displacements with that of his people through bridging rather than dividing. The examples of translators like Eliaz are vital, as they remind us that each act of cultural translation can serve as a quiet form of resistance to division and seclusion, proving that understanding across difference is not only possible but essential.

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Dr. Erika Mejia is a teacher in the International MA in Jewish Education. In addition to contributing to the program's development, she now teaches the Academic Writing course.

In my experience of teaching at a Modern Orthodox Jewish day school in Melbourne, I’ve found that Jewish values and practices are often perceived as disconnected from the realities of young people in the 21st century. In many educational settings, unfortunately, Jewish education is confined to traditional religious studies, missing the opportunity to integrate Jewish wisdom into broader areas of the curriculum. As a practising Modern Orthodox Jew, I see the brilliance of Judaism in its ability to provide a framework for living a meaningful and moral life. Judaism is not merely a religion, it is a culture, a community, and a way of life.

Through my work mentoring students at a Jewish high school, I have observed a significant divide between secular and religious education. This separation often conveys to students that Judaism is not relevant to their daily lives or to the challenges they face. The gap is particularly evident in the area of sex education. Effective, meaningful sex education is essential in all schools. It should provide students with a thoughtful and age-appropriate framework to understand consent, respectful relationships, and the complexities of sexuality. Schools have a responsibility to equip students with the knowledge and tools to navigate this deeply personal and powerful aspect of life with confidence, empathy, and self-awareness.

Although Judaism is a religious tradition, it is also a rich, values-based system that offers meaningful guidance on many aspects of human experience, including relationships and intimacy. The principles of Taharat HaMishpacha (Jewish family purity laws), for example, have gained recognition among some secular relationship therapists for its thoughtful approach to boundaries, intimacy, and mutual respect.

I believe that integrating Judaism’s approach to relationships and intimacy into sex education not only deepens its relevance in a Modern Orthodox Jewish school but also strengthens its educational impact. A curriculum that places Taharat HaMishpacha alongside secular content can foster a stronger connection between students and their Jewish identity, while providing a comprehensive and modern understanding of consent and healthy relationships.

Ultimately, students are already encountering messages about consent and relationships through the secular curriculum. To omit Jewish perspectives from these discussions in a Jewish school is a missed opportunity. By presenting these values in tandem, we affirm the relevance of Jewish tradition in contemporary life and provide students with a holistic, grounded, and meaningful education.

Through the Masters of Education program, I was given a platform to develop a curriculum for Year 10 students (15–16-year-olds) at Mount Scopus Memorial College, a Modern Orthodox Jewish Day School in Melbourne, Australia, that is centred on presenting the Jewish Approach to Relationships and Intimacy. This curriculum explores the Modern Orthodox Jewish approach to relationships and intimacy alongside the secular sexuality education curriculum conducted by Elephant Ed. Elephant Ed is an Australian organisation which provides comprehensive and relevant workshops on consent, sexuality education and respectful relationships for schools and workplaces. The Elephant Ed programs are currently conducted at Mount Scopus College as the central component of sexuality education at the school.

The curriculum consists of 5 sessions, exploring the following topics: the purpose and role of relationships and intimacy in Judaism, core principles or values which inform Jewish laws and guidelines on relationships and intimacy - pre marriage and post marriage, understanding traditional Jewish teachings on relationships and intimacy in a modern context and finally, a personal reflection. The curriculum explores topics related to Taharat Mishpacha, relationships, and navigating intimacy. The curriculum provides students with the opportunity to learn about various aspects of Judaism that they might consider incorporating into their daily lives.

The development of the Jewish Approach to Relationships and Intimacy curriculum has been an incredibly meaningful project. This curriculum emerged from an awareness and personal experience of the disconnect many students experience between the richness of Jewish tradition and the complex, often confusing messages they receive about relationships and sexuality in contemporary society. My core objective was to portray the way in which Judaism can be a relevant and compassionate framework to guide us through integral human and formative experiences. The process of creating this curriculum demanded differing avenues of research, nuanced thinking, and conversations with experts across diverse fields.

The development of this curriculum has reaffirmed my belief that in a Modern Orthodox educational setting, Jewish values must be actively embedded throughout the educational experience while remaining open to the realities, needs, and questions of today’s students. The inclusion of diverse voices and careful attention to language, tone, and framing were essential in ensuring that the curriculum was inclusive, respectful, and accessible to all students, regardless of their level of observance, gender identity, or personal experience.

On a personal level, the development of curriculum has deepened my own understanding and knowledge of the Jewish approach to relationships and intimacy. This process has encouraged me to delve into areas of discomfort, acknowledge the limitations of existing models, and be creative in exploring alternative possibilities for the scope of religious education. I have learned the necessity of authentic engagement with Jewish texts and values in order to develop effective and successful religious curricula.

While it may be difficult to measure the success of this curriculum immediately, I hope its impact will be seen over time, in the ways students carry these lessons into their relationships, choices, and evolving identities. This curriculum creates space for meaningful reflection, self-awareness, and connection, with the aim that students feel empowered to approach relationships with respect and thoughtfulness – and, ultimately, that they consider their Jewish identity a source of strength and relevance in navigating their daily lives. This project reflects a commitment to bridging tradition with contemporary experience in an authentic, compassionate, and lasting way - an approach that I believe should be embraced in every Jewish learning context.

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Sasha Fink, from Australia, is a student of the International MA in Jewish Education at the Melton Centre.

Jewish education is much more than a simple process of transmitting knowledge: it is an experience that touches the soul of each student, turning learning into a profound encounter with their identity. True Jewish education does not remain in notebooks; it leaves its mark on the heart, where a genuine commitment to tradition, values, and spirituality blossoms—one that will accompany the student throughout his or her life.

Currently, I am a morah in first grade, teaching tefillah and the chagim. Each school year represents an immensely gratifying experience for me, as I have been able to witness how my students grow not only intellectually, but also in their spiritual and personal development. When they first arrive in the classroom, they are small, timid children, full of excitement but also uncertainty. It is wonderful to see how, little by little, that initial fear is transformed into confidence, joy in learning, and pride in identifying as part of the community of “big kids” in elementary school.

In the classroom, learning is not a monologue. I am not an authority dictating absolute truths; rather, we establish a living and dynamic dialogue. The children arrive with curious eyes and restless hands; they receive our traditions, the tefillot and the chagim, and also reinterpret and enrich them with their own sensitivity and way of feeling. With every spontaneous question, with every reflection that arises during the study of the parashah (weekly Torah portion) or in the celebration of a holiday, my students constantly invite me to see and live Jewish education from a fresh and genuine perspective.

The subject Shorashim at the Colegio Hebreo Monte Sinaí in Mexico is an experiential learning process that goes far beyond the mere acquisition of theoretical data about history, mitzvot, or traditions. Its essence lies in the deep connection between the student and his or her cultural, spiritual, and communal heritage. That is why the goal is for learning to transcend the limits of the classroom: it is about engaging emotions, practices, and values that shape the daily life of Jewish existence and build identity. Every piece of knowledge is constructed through experience: with an open heart, with hands at work, with song and participatory action.

Unlike other subjects, Shorashim encourages students to be active protagonists and not mere passive receivers of information. Knowledge becomes concrete and meaningful when children bake challah for Shabbat, when they enter the sukkah with enthusiasm, when they hear the sound of the shofar in Elul, or when they perform acts of kindness to help those in need. Each of these experiences acts as a spark that connects past with present and plants within them a strong and steady Jewish identity, one that will remain intact throughout their lives.

In this formative process, my students also become my teachers. Without intention—or even awareness—they show me that living Judaism goes far beyond following instructions or rituals; it means feeling it with an open and pure heart. In their games, in the spontaneous way they tell me how they celebrate a chag at home with their families, or in the excitement with which they say tefillah every Friday, they teach me that true Jewish education is not limited to the walls of the classroom. Even as a morah, I continue to be a student, learning daily from their enthusiasm, their sincere perspective, and the purity with which they live what they learn.

Within the school, we celebrate the holidays in a way that allows the children to literally taste them, smell them, sing them, and rejoice in them with all their senses. When they leave school, these experiences are carried into their families, where the students become little ambassadors of tradition, spreading the warmth and light that each chag represents. Thus, education is not confined to the classroom but becomes a bridge that spans generations, strengthening both community and family ties.

When a chag approaches, we do not limit ourselves to studying its mitzvot and customs, but seek to discover its deepest essence. We teach children to understand that Judaism, more than a set of actions or rules, is a system of meanings that responds to the “why” behind each practice. This understanding shapes them not only as well-prepared students but also as more sensitive human beings, with greater capacity for connection and commitment to both their spiritual heritage and the world around them.

I came to understand that Jewish education is not a solitary path walked only by the teacher or the student, but a shared journey, a constant dialogue, and co-learning that enriches everyone who participates. Each smile that arises in the classroom, each curious question, and each sincere gesture from my students reminds me that I am not the only one teaching. They, with their innocence and the purity with which they live Judaism, become my true teachers. They show me that teaching and learning are two sides of the same blessing, and that every day in the classroom is an opportunity to grow together.

As the Talmud says in Tractate Ta’anit 7a: “Rabbi Hanina said, ‘I have learned much from my teachers and even more from my friends, but from my students I have learned more than from all of them.” This teaching becomes the fundamental basis of my vocation and drives me to continue pouring my heart into each class, knowing that the true value of Jewish education is this spiritual exchange that transforms the soul of all who take part in it.

In Shorashim we live an authentic generational and spiritual exchange, where we all grow, develop our identity, and are transformed together.

The concept of the "Didactic Contract" was developed by Guy Brousseau in the late 1960s. The didactic contract refers to the implicit and explicit rules that govern the relationships between the teacher, the student, and knowledge in a didactic situation. It is a set of specific behaviors expected from the teacher toward the student and from the student toward the teacher, regarding the knowledge being taught. According to Brousseau, this contract regulates the rights and obligations of each party.

According to Brousseau, the didactic contract influences how learning takes place and how problems arising from it are resolved.

The functioning of the didactic contract presupposes the existence of what is known as "didactic transposition," that is, the conversion of scientific knowledge into "knowledge to be taught." This occurs through the dynamics generated in the "milieu," which is the physical, social, and cultural environment in which learning occurs and where the students constructs their knowledge. The milieu plays an important role in identifying the knowledge that the learner is expected to acquire.

This is not merely a tool but a fundamental element of the didactic relationship, which the teacher modifies to provoke new adaptations and constructions of knowledge in the student.

In this space, it is necessary to exercise careful epistemological vigilance over the changes that occur in the object of knowledge; the transformation of knowledge should be minimized in order to preserve its nature; and the ultimate goal of learning should be for the student to be able to apply that knowledge in situations where the teacher is no longer present. The student is immersed in the didactic situation, with the goal being to use that knowledge in non-didactic contexts.

Gil-Galvan proposed the concept of a “learning contract,” defined as a shared agreement in which roles, responsibilities, content, competencies, methodologies, activities, roles, expected outcomes, and assessment are explicitly established. Within this framework, Gil-Galvan defined three categories of human competencies:

1. Technical competencies ("knowing");
2. Methodological competencies ("knowing how");
3. Personal competencies ("knowing how to be").

Technical competencies ("knowing") refer to the combination of general or specialized knowledge and the mastery of skills necessary to perform tasks appropriate to the professional field. Methodological competencies ("knowing how") allow for the acquisition of experiences that can be transferred to various scenarios, enabling the practical application of knowledge to solve problems independently. Finally, personal competencies ("knowing how to be") enable individuals to act responsibly, constructively, and communicatively when making decisions in academic, professional, and personal situations (Gil-Galván et al., 2021, p. 276).

The aim of this article is to ask: How is the didactic contract transformed in the era of AI?

First of all, the “milieu” could be redefined as:

A dynamic, interconnected, and intelligent learning ecosystem permeated by the agency of technological devices and AI systems (including generative agents and visual learning analysis systems). This environment goes beyond traditional physical and sociocultural conditions, becoming a hybrid space where interactions between humans and intelligent machines are constitutive of learning and knowledge construction. In this "milieu," the external conditions for developing and acquiring knowledge include not only implicit and explicit relationships (didactic contract), but also AI’s capacity to influence human cognition, mediate social relationships, and affect values—demanding from individuals new competencies for interacting, interpreting, creating, and deciding in a human-machine collaborative context.

In short, we move from a "tripartite" relationship to a "quadripartite" one.

What are the implications of this new situation?

Some examples are set forth in the following table:

The emergence of AI has profoundly disrupted the relationships between teacher, student, and content as we knew them. The new didactic contract requires a much more active, creative, and ethical attitude from all actors involved in today’s didactic situation. It calls for a renewed "alliance" for learning and for awareness of the importance of cognitive effort in the face of a phenomenon which, as previously mentioned, can become problematic and even hostile.

Delia Lerner argued that we must move from the idea of learning being "step-by-step and complete" to learning as "complex and provisional."

In light of AI's emergence, we propose "interactive”, “conscious”, and “ethical" as the characteristics defining the three central components of the new didactic contract:

1.     The opportunity to engage with an intelligent cognitive interlocutor;

2.     The need to become aware of and invest anew in learning;

3.     The revaluation of the ethical dimension involving the teacher's and student's commitment to learning.

The rise of AI in education challenges us to design a new contract, in which ethical attitudes and awareness of the importance of learning become key pillars.

Sources

Brousseau, G., Le contrat didactique: le milieu. Recherches en didactique des mathématiques, 1990. 9(9.3): p. 309-336.

Chevallard, Y. On didactic transposition theory: Some introductory notes. in Proceedings of the international symposium on selected domains of research and development in mathematics education. 1989.

Brousseau, G., Fondements et méthodes de la didactique des mathématiques. Recherches en didactique des mathématiques (Revue), 1986. 7(2): p. 33-115.

Gil-Galván, M.R., I. Martín Espinosa, and F.J. Gil Galván, El Contrato de Aprendizaje como estrategia para fomentar las competencias comunicativas. 2024.