As far back as approximately two decades ago, I reluctantly succumbed to the reality of email. My feelings of concern were further augmented when, as a Yeshiva principal, and after establishing my account, a parent sent me a two-page, single-spaced complaint that could have easily been handled with a simple phone call.
My skepticisms intensified with the advent of Facebook, when, in conversation, a young adult mentioned that she had over 700 friends. In my naiveté I incredulously asked her, why would she need so many friends? The reality began to sink in that all these “friends” were electronic contacts who may have been complete strangers, perhaps never having been met or even spoken to. I was even more reluctantly introduced to the world of texting, which avoids any conventional social interaction, and is characterized by truncated texts, and, in its brevity, often void of context or meaning. We must always keep in mind the more sinister qualities of social media that enable the anonymous spread of malicious attacks and of escalating, over-the-top responses. As Rabbi Berel Wein recently stated, “(texting)… is very impersonal, cold and subject to misinterpretation.”
The coronavirus has forced us into a new “remote reality.” As we entered the wide world of Zoom three months ago, few could predict that our lives as we remember them at the outset would not likely return. To be sure, having the ability to work from home has enabled many people to maintain their productivity and ensure the viability of so many businesses and institutions. Perhaps no greater impact of this new reality is seen than in the world of education, with teachers empowered to transfer the education of our children from the schools to their home “classrooms.” Until the advent of Zoom, the digital platforms for remote teaching and learning were deficient by comparison.
Yet, there are already signs that this new digital world will in many significant ways be with us post virus. There are predictions that people will spend less time in the workplace, denying them the personal interactions that are a hallmark of camaraderie and creativity. There have already been calls from teacher organizations to reduce the number of actual attendance days at the school. The consequences of such a permanent change mean the lack of social growth in the classroom and a much-diminished role for the teacher. In the world of the yeshiva, there is no alternative to the spiritual impact of real-life interaction with the morot and the rebbeim. When we can hear a full Torah lecture online, why would we still prefer to attend the shiur in person?
Without limiting our remoteness, we stand to lose a crucial element of our humanity. As Rabbi Wein warns, “…the young are in danger of never being able to hold an intelligent conversation with another human being for any length of time.”
Before falling over the precipice, we should develop personal strategies to recapture the vibrancy and fullness of human interaction. As we know from so many contexts, we learn best by serving as role models. At this point, our best long-term solution rests in the hands of the parents. Imagine the best times you have had with your children: family trips, the Shabbos table, family meetings, sharing personal heart-to-heart moments, facing the bitter and sweet moments of life together. Take the energy and impact of these experiences and milestones and consciously apply them now as we emerge from our quarantine and rejoin the world. If our children learn the warmth and value of meaningful in-person communication, they may come away with a mindset that is less remote and far more human and intimate.
Stanley Fischman has served as the supervisor of General Studies Instruction at the Jewish Educational Center in Elizabeth, NJ. He was a Yeshiva elementary principal for 35 years, and was also Director of General Studies at Ben Porat Yosef in Paramus. He recently celebrated his 50th anniversary of educating Jewish children. He is the author of Seven Steps to Mentschhood – How to Help Your Child Become a Mentsch.
