Mako
Published: 04.09.25, 08:51 | Updated: 04.09.25, 12:16

This week, the new school year began and over a million children returned to classrooms across the country, hoping that this year will finally bring routine and growth. For sixth graders, this simple wish – to complete elementary school without interruptions, war, or anxiety – is shared by teachers, principals, and all educational staff, who long for a year in which learning can continue without disruption.

These children spent their entire elementary years in turmoil: kindergarten began in September 2019, only for COVID-19 to shut schools by March. First grade started under restrictions, with repeated lockdowns and remote learning. By fourth grade, the “Iron Swords” war broke out, and fifth grade ended amid the war with Iran. Now, entering sixth grade, they hope for a year of normalcy, with lessons, field trips, and everyday experiences.

These challenges affected not only students – teachers and principals also had to find ways to stay effective in the classroom. The Israel Center for Educational Innovation (ICEI) guided schools through these crises, adapting its methods and providing close support to staff, helping schools continue functioning even under extreme pressure. For 16 years, ICEI has worked in schools in socially disadvantaged communities, in partnership with the Ministry of Education, the Ministry for Social Equality, and local authorities. Today, it supports more than 60 Jewish and Arab schools and over 30,000 students annually.

The sixth graders beginning school today belong to a generation shaped by uncertainty – but also remarkable resilience. After six years of upheaval, their principals hope they can finally enjoy a year where they simply get to be children.

Three principals working with ICEI spoke with Mako about how they’ve supported students and staff through these challenges – and their dream of a school year filled with steady learning and growth.

Principals Speak

Michal Baruven: “Focusing on education kept me sane.”

Alon Yizre’el School, Afula | 540 students, 22 classes

Michal Baruven has been principal of Alon Yizre’el School for nine years. During this period, the school has grown from 240 students to 540 and Baruven even won the Rothschild Education Prize. When the war began on October 7, 2023, she faced a complex personal situation: all three of her children were serving in the army – one in mandatory service, one in reserves, and a daughter serving with evacuees in the north.

“After October 7^th, I felt like I too was drafted, but to my school,” she says. “There were long days when I didn’t know what was happening with my sons, who were fighting in two different areas in Gaza. I decided to focus on the school – to be ‘on duty’ for my students and staff. That’s what kept me sane.”

COVID-19, she says, prepared them to some extent: “The pandemic caught us off guard, but by the time the war started, we already knew how to quickly build routines and maintain close ties with students remotely and in person.” Still, fifth and sixth graders had unique challenges: “They entered first grade without proper reading and writing readiness. Only last year did I feel we truly closed those gaps.”

As principal, Baruven saw her role first and foremost as supporting her staff. With her deputy principal, Neta Shani, school psychologist, and counselor, she created a support team for teachers. “I realized that if the staff had a safe place to share, they could in turn help build resilience among students and parents.”

The support of the Israel Center for Educational Innovation (ICEI) during this time was crucial. ICEI has been supporting the school through the Meisharim initiative, a Joint Venture between the Ministry of Education and Yad Hanadiv. “Because ICEI had embedded its teaching methods in the school, they were ready to be implemented immediately during remote learning. My ICEI Principal Mentor provided daily guidance, while ICEI’s Director of Parent & Community Engagement applied these tools directly in the school.”

The community rallied. “The most moving thing was seeing how every gap was filled – every child got support. Some had fathers and brothers fighting in Gaza, and some lost relatives at the Nova festival massacre. We also absorbed six families of evacuees from the north and south.”

During the war with Iran, rockets impacted near Afula, and countless sirens sounded. “By the second day, we returned to remote learning. Teachers held afternoon and evening Zoom meetings when sirens kept children up at night.”Her wish for the new year: “That we will see the war end and the hostages return. The children deserve a safe, routine year – where they can study, travel, play, and just be kids.”

Shai Dahan: “A student told me, ‘I thought school was every other year.’”

Efrati Religious Public School, Bnei Ayish | 170 students, 6 classes

Shai Dahan has been the principal of the Efrati School for five years. In the past two years, he has served over 200 days of reserve duty, while managing his school. He makes a point of maintaining personal contact with students. “Every month, I hold a birthday gathering for kids,” he says. “At one, a child told me: ‘I thought we study one year on, one year off.’ That sums it up – the breaks and chaos have become almost normal for them.”

Despite the hardships, he sees unexpected strengths: “These years nurtured creativity and out-of-the-box thinking. But academically, there are big gaps. Months went by when children hardly left their homes. Some face anxiety, some have parents called up for military service. Add to that sirens and canceled field trips – everything is at the breaking point. There’s also a deep need to help them rebuild social skills.”

How does a school function when the principal is in the reserves? “When everyone knows their role, things continue running. I learned to trust my deputy principal and coordinators. In war, I saw how much responsibility they carried. It built true leadership.”

ICEI’s methods and tools, already embedded in the school, were crucial. “They helped us build clear routines – for both students and teachers. This makes management easier during normal periods – but in war, it was critical. With routines in place, students know what’s expected, and teachers know how to effectively teach remotely. That structure brought a sense of calm that allowed the school to keep running even when I wasn’t physically present.”

“You never know if rockets will fall tomorrow morning and children won’t be able to come to school. We’ve learned to develop different management skills and keep things running even amid uncertainty. Just as during COVID-19 we adapted to a new routine, in wartime we’ve learned how to care for the children – how to make remote lessons engaging and how to pay attention to every student.”

And what happens when you return from reserve duty? “The younger children mostly just miss me – they’re happy when I come back. They send messages, ask where I am. In Gaza, I couldn’t always respond, so parents would call and check. That personal connection kept both them and me going.”

His wish for the new year: “I wish for stability and a sense of normalcy. May we build on the skills we’ve recently discovered while strengthening social abilities. May we also inspire curiosity and a love of learning in the children. Above all, may we live here in peace.”

Iman Amer Khalala: “In third grade, some children couldn’t read or write.”

Jabour Jabour School, Shfaram | 430 students, 17 classes

Iman Amer Khalala became the principal of the Jabour Jabour School in September 2019. Six months later, COVID hit. Since then, she hasn’t had a single quiet year. Jabour Jabour, established in 1962, was once a symbol of education in Shfaram, but in recent years declined and even faced closure. When she took over, it had just 180 students; today, thanks to her leadership, it has 430 – Muslim, Christian, Druze, and Bedouin.

“My first assessment portrayed a difficult picture – even in third grade, children couldn’t read or write Arabic,” she recalls. “Today, we’ve completely changed that. I don’t give up on any child – everyone can succeed if given the right tools.”

COVID worsened the situation: many students lacked computers or internet access, further widening disparities. With the municipality’s help, computers and tablets were distributed, enabling remote learning.

Then came the war. “Anxiety seeped into the school corridors,” she says. “Students, parents, and teachers were emotionally unavailable for learning, on top of years of instability, renovations that required the school to relocate, and now, war.”

The toll was also deeply personal: two of her childhood friends from Tamra – both teachers – were killed by an Iranian missile. “After losing them, it wasn’t easy to return to work, but I had to. If the principal collapses, the whole system collapses. Everyone looks to me, so I must remain strong.”

ICEI has been supporting Jabour Jabour School since Khalala’s second year as principal. “In my second year, at the height of the pandemic, ICEI started working with the school. From that moment, I knew I wasn’t alone,” she says. “My ICEI Principal Mentor gave me professional tools, and ICEI’s Director of Parent & Community Engagement applied ICEI’s practices to strengthen ties with parents. ICEI’s guidance was what enabled me to keep going through the toughest years.”

She also mobilized the municipal psychologist and school counselor to create a support system: workshops for parents, stress relief for teachers, and art and music classes for children. “That was the only way to continue teaching and fostering students’ progress.”

Her wish for the new year: “A year of peace and love, stability and calm. Students deserve peace of mind – that’s the foundation for everything else.”

Translation of the Article by Bat-Chen Epstein Elias
Original Hebrew Published: 12/07/2025, 19:49 | Updated: 13/07/2025, 13:21

“Hili and I stood together above the cake. Hili made a wish, closed her eyes and concentrated, and I… I had only one wish in my heart, that Oded would finally come back. It was already late, and some guests had started leaving… Suddenly, there was a faint knock on the door. Even the loud music didn’t stop me from hearing it. I went to open the door, and for a moment, everything was silent… Oded stood there, and I was so excited, I froze. ‘Hi,’ said Oded.”
— From Raz’s story

“Writing helped me deal with the longing.”

Raz loves to write. She pours all her emotions into writing. Her concern for soldiers, fear of war, and longing for her cousin Oded, who was called up for reserve duty. Writing, she says with a shy smile, helps her unpack her feelings. So, when she had the chance to participate in ICEI’s Young Writers’ Competition, she knew she would write about Oded.

“Oded has been in my life since I was a little girl, and even though he’s almost ten years older and lives in Jerusalem near my grandmother, we always play and laugh together. I’m very close to him, and whenever we go to visit my grandma, I wait for him to come too so we can hang out. In my story, I wrote about missing him while he was away on reserve duty.”

Raz Regev is a fourth-grade student at Alon Yizreel School in Afula, a school within ICEI’s network. She loves hip-hop dancing and playing with her friends. She’s the daughter of Yifat and Dov and sister to Hili (10.5), Eitan (6), and Nimrod (1.5). Oded, her cousin, rarely returned home during his reserve service. “I waited for him for a long time. At school, we always prepare gift packages and letters for soldiers. I used to write to Oded and imagined him receiving the letters. On my sister Hili’s birthday, I saved him a seat because I really hoped he’d come. My Mom even made the Greek salad he loves, and we waited for him. And then, just as Hili was about to blow out the candles, Oded showed up.”

Raz was one of 40 third-sixthgrade winners of the ICEI Young Writers Competition, which this year was named in memory of Mary Ann Stein, the founding Chair of the Board of ICEI. Over 5,000 stories were submitted to the competition, written by children between sprints to the bomb shelter and games in the yard, between rocket sirens and feelings of longing. Over three months, the children learned to write stories, including how to describe events and develop characters, through ICEI’s comprehensive writing program. The Awards Ceremony was held in Herzliya, hosted by actor and TV star Tal Mosseri. Excerpts from three of the winning stories are featured in this article.

Raz took third place in the competition. “Right after I found out I won, I called Oded to tell him,” she says with a smile. “He was very moved and said he was proud of me. It made me happy, though I still miss him a lot. Writing helped me deal with the difficulty of missing him.  I knew it would be hard to write a story from my heart, but I worked hard with my teacher, and I did it. I was emotional during the ceremony, and my whole class watched when they called my name.”

“It felt good to write. It helped me deal with the situation.”

“When we got home, I realized something was missing. Someone was missing. Toy was missing! His things weren’t in the house. My dad called us all to the living room and told us he had put Toy up for adoption because of what he did to my sister. I was very sad, and even though Toy did something wrong, my sister was sad too. We didn’t want to give him up. We were attached to him. How could we just forget about him?”

—From Odel’s story

Odel Cohen Avramovich found healing through writing. In her room at home, she keeps several diaries that she’s written over the years. She used to lock them with a key, but now she writes in a regular notebook that she keeps to herself. The story she chose to submit to ICEI’s Young Writers Competition was about the pain of parting from her dog,  Toy, after he unintentionally hurt her sister. “I could’ve written about anything, but I knew I had to write about Toy. I wanted people to know this story. I gave as many details as I could about my dog and my sister. It felt good to write. It helped me deal with the situation and release my thoughts and feelings.”

Odel is 9 years old, a third-grade student at Shoham School in Afula, another school in ICEI’s network. She’s the daughter of Chen and Ofir and sister to Tohar (11) and Ilay (7). When she’s not writing, she enjoys playing on her phone and hanging out with friends. But writing helps her express her emotions. Odel won second place in ICEI’s Young Writers Competition.

“The competition really helped me connect to writing and to my feelings. I discovered that you can share what you’re going through in life through writing. It was sad to relive the experience with Toy, but I’m glad I shared it because it’s important for people to know that when you say goodbye, whether it’s a pet or a person, you have to let go of everything that “was.” It’s hard at first, but it can also be a good thing. I was shaking on stage at the Awards Ceremony. I’d never been on a stage before, and I was nervous, but mostly happy that I had won.”

“I came here without knowing a word of Hebrew, and now I write stories.”

“One morning, Timofey woke up startled. He heard a siren, but he didn’t understand what the sound was, so he ran to his parents’ room to check. The family went down to the basement and his parents turned on the TV and they realized war had broken out with Russia. Timofey’s parents didn’t know what to do or where to go. They decided to fly to Israel and move in with Timofey’s grandmother. Only Timofey, his mother, and older brother flew to Israel, and his father stayed in Ukraine because his mother was ill and couldn’t travel. Timofey was very sad.”

—From Timofey’s story

Timofey couldn’t believe he placed second among fifth graders. He’s a blond-haired boy with a mischievous smile, who only learned Hebrew when he immigrated from Ukraine about three years ago. He arrived not knowing a word, but today, he can talk about soccer endlessly and his accent has nearly disappeared. “I came here not knowing a word of Hebrew,” Timofey says quietly. “I have two classmates who speak my language, and we used to talk about the war and life in Ukraine. When I had to choose a topic to write about, I knew I’d write about wars.”

Timofey is a fifth-grade student at the Ma’anit School in Ramle, a school in ICEI’s network. He’s the son of Anna and Sergey and brother to Sasha (17). Despite his love for Israel, he misses Ukraine. His father is still there, and they manage to speak from time to time. He fondly recalls trips to the forest and fishing in a lake. At the same time, he enjoys life in Israel and plays as a defender (left back and center back) for the soccer team SC Ramle. “My teacher, Shai, taught me how to play soccer, and thanks to him, I’m on the city team,” he smiles.

“Shai sees me and helps me when I’m struggling, and that means a lot to me. My Hebrew teacher, Orna, also helped me a lot. I’m proud that I learned to speak fluent Hebrew in just three years and managed to write a story – and even win a competition. On the one hand, writing a story is easy. It’s in your head, and you let it out. On the other hand, I think of it in Ukrainian, and then I have to write it in Hebrew. So, it’s both easy and hard.”

Timofey was overwhelmed by the win. “When I stood on the stage and they started reading out the winners’ names, I was happy every time it wasn’t me, because that meant I ranked high. In the end, there were only two of us left, and I was thrilled when the host Tal Mosseri called my name.”

The writing competition is organized by the Israel Center for Educational Innovation, as part of its school programs aimed at empowering principals and teachers and driving lasting, school-wide change, with a focus on developing writing, reading, speaking, and listening skills.

According to Don Futterman, Founder and Executive Director of ICEI, which partners with the Ministry of Education, the Ministry for Social Equality, and local authorities, “Students have complete freedom to choose what they write about – stories from their lives or from their imagination. Literacy skills are the key to academic success and open many doors in our children’s lives.”

“ICEI’s Young Writers Competition is a practical expression of this belief – it allows students to go through a deep creative process and discover the true power of words. We see how children develop not just as young authors, but as confident, expressive individuals.”

Jisr e-Zarka, by the sea. A second-grade boy spends his free time at the beach, sitting beside a fisherman. Books? Stories? He’s not interested. Reading is as foreign to him as a train schedule is to a street cat. Illiteracy leaves him stranded on the margins of the education system, one of many children at risk of dropping out of school.

That is, until a school staff member sits beside him and asks, “What are you interested in?”

“Fishing,” he replies.

“Then let’s write a story about fishing,” she says.

And just like that, the boy, who has never been excited by the written word, sees his world transformed into a story. Each day, he opens his book and reads his story. The pages become a gateway into the world of literacy – and a lifeline out of the path toward dropout, the streets, or even crime.

“If you want to destroy a society, neglect its education,” says Sally Awad-Asfour, Deputy Executive Director at the Israel Center for Educational Innovation (ICEI), and one of the leaders of the Tamkin initiative. “Who are the ones shooting guns in the streets? The 17- and 18-year-olds who have dropped out of the education system and have nothing left to lose. It didn’t have to be this way; things could have been different for them.”

Fifty percent of Arab youth in Israel don’t complete their high school matriculation exams. Their chances of entering higher education or finding stable, respectable employment are slim.

Against the backdrop of this reality, ICEI’s Tamkin initiative proposes a new approach. Unlike previous initiatives, which focus only on high schools, Tamkin (Arabic for “empowerment”), works with elementary schools, giving students a firm grounding in literacy skills. In an unprecedented investment of 33 million shekels over five years, in partnership with the Ministry of Education and the Ministry for Social Equality, ICEI is tackling the root cause of educational gaps in Arab society: the challenge of “diglossia” – the stark divide between the spoken Arabic used at home and the formal Arabic taught in school. ICEI’s Tamkin initiative currently operates in 15 Arab elementary schools across Israel.

An Educator’s Journey

Sally Awad-Asfour, 43, who has been working at ICEI for six years, became ICEI’s first Deputy Executive Director just two months ago. Originally from Nazareth, Awad-Asfour now lives in Nof Hagalil with her husband Nahel, who holds a PhD in Law, and their three children: Noor (19), who studies in France; Nabil, a ninth-grade student; and Niel, who is in fourth grade.  

Awad-Asfour attended St. Joseph’s School in Nazareth, a church-run institution, and holds a B.A. in Special Education, an M.A. in Educational Counseling from the Hebrew University, and an MBA from Bar-Ilan University. She also specialized in cognitive-behavioral psychotherapy and taught special education at the Oranim Academic College. Later, she became the principal of the first school in the Arab community specifically designed for students with learning disabilities and attention disorders, including ADHD.

Despite her extensive academic and professional experience, Awad-Asfour admits: “If I have to write a formal letter in Arabic, it has to be proofread. They’ll find a lot of grammatical errors in my writing.”

From Diagnosis to Reform

The gap between spoken and formal Arabic shaped Awad-Asfour’s early awareness of the challenges in Arab education. “I was a capable student, and yet, because of the way the language was taught, I never absorbed formal Arabic at a mother-tongue level,” she explains.

“If 10% of a school’s students need special education, that might make sense. But when I am told that 25% of students in a class need to move to special education? I realize the problem is not the students – it’s the teaching.”

The severe dropout rates within the Arab community bothered her from a young age. “It’s something innate in me; I always wanted to help people, and that is why I chose the field of educational counseling. There are students struggling – academically, emotionally, and economically – who are not receiving the support they need. Over the years, I became more and more aware of how deep and systemic these issues are.”

“When I became the principal of a special needs school, I discovered that most of the students weren’t truly in need of special education. They had learning disabilities, attention disorders, or simply hadn’t been given the tools to succeed. I learned that the education system doesn’t know how to cope with students who have difficulty with reading or attention; these students are quickly labeled and moved to special education.”

Awad-Asfour adds: “If 10% of a school’s students need special education, that might make sense. But when I am told that 25% of students in a class need to move to special education? I realize the problem is not the students – it’s the teaching.”

The Two Languages of Arabic

According to Awad-Asfour, Arabic is one of the most challenging languages in the world to learn to read and write. “It is the third-most difficult language, after Greek and Chinese, with more than twelve million words. It is a very rich language that can have two hundred synonyms.”

“What makes language acquisition even harder is the fact that Arabic is two different languages: There is spoken Arabic, used at home and in casual conversation, and there is formal Arabic, taught and spoken at school. The two languages only have 20% of words in common, so moving between the two requires a mental switch – it’s like the teacher suddenly switched to speaking Hebrew or English.”

“To acquire formal Arabic, it’s not enough that the teacher uses it – students must also be immersed in vocabulary, stories, and a language-rich environment. But in Arab society, reading is not a common activity. The child doesn’t hear formal Arabic at home, and at school, all they learn is how to break down letters and understand simple texts. Their grasp of the language remains very basic. Even educated families may only read one book a year. That gap severely limits vocabulary—and cognitive development.”

“Since the beginning of the year, there have already been more than 50 murders in the Arab community. This doesn’t happen by chance. These are the same youth who dropped out of school. When someone offers them 2,000 ILS to shoot someone in the legs, they do it. They have nothing to lose.”

The issue, she says, runs deeper than vocabulary. “Depth of thought comes from depth of language. If children don’t develop a rich lexicon, their cognitive skills are stunted. And if they don’t master their first language, it becomes almost impossible to acquire a second language, like Hebrew. This is where many of our problems begin.”

It is this language gap, she believes, that lies at the heart of the high dropout rate among Arab students. “More than 50% don’t complete high school with a matriculation certificate, and many drop out long before the twelfth grade. Why? Because the struggle with language begins in elementary school.”

“Israel has one of the most striking correlations between socio-economic status and educational achievement. More than 60% of Arab students come from low-income backgrounds. Without support and resources, their chances of success are miniscule. By the time they reach fourth grade, many are still illiterate. A child at that age who can’t read or write is actually already a hidden dropout. It will be very hard for him to learn Hebrew, science, or math in the future. The school may hold onto him with all sorts of extracurricular activities, but the expectation is that he will drop out.”

To this day, she notes, most resources are directed toward students who have already dropped out. “In recent years, the ministries have begun to shift toward prevention, including early childhood interventions and programs like Tamkin, which begin in elementary school. It’s much more effective to prevent the problem than to fix it later.”

Do you see a connection between dropout rates and street violence in Arab communities?

“Absolutely. We see severe violence every day. Since the beginning of the year, there have already been more than 50 murders in the Arab community. This doesn’t happen by chance. These are the same youth who dropped out of school. When someone offers them 2,000 ILS to shoot someone in the legs, they do it. They have nothing to lose.”

And you believe language skills will cause fewer instances of violence?

“Absolutely. Give a child the ability to read, to express himself, to succeed – and suddenly they do have something to lose. No child aspires to a life of crime. They end up there because of poverty, despair, and a lack of opportunity. But if we give children the experience of success, they can dream of a better future. When they learn to express themselves, they gain the ability to defend themselves, access their rights, and shape their own future. We are already seeing that transformation in ICEI’s pilot program in Arab elementary schools and in ICEI’s Tamkin program.”

The holistic transformation presented by ICEI’s Tamkin initiative includes equipping every classroom with a library of hundreds of books, redesigning classrooms with a cozy and inviting reading corner, and introducing a new role to the school – that of the “literacy coach.” The educational staff receives access to ICEI’s Medida data-collection platform, which allows real-time monitoring of student progress, so no child falls through the cracks.

The results speak volumes. First-grade assessments at the start of the 2024 school year indicated that only 20% were expected to acquire necessary language skills by the end of the year. Because of Tamkin’s interventions, nearly 70% of students acquired these reading and writing skills – more than triple the original expectation.

“Our model is based on research from the United States,” Awad-Asfour explains. “ICEI studied 50 successful schools in very difficult neighborhoods. Then we adapted what we learned and applied it to an Israeli context. ICEI’s founding mission was to support Ethiopian-Israeli students, who didn’t speak Hebrew at home, which made learning Hebrew at school very difficult. ICEI was so successful with Ethiopian-Israeli students that we expanded to additional communities. We studied the successes of our original model and adapted it to the needs of the Arab community, considering the issue of diglossia and cultural factors. We are constantly checking in with participating teachers to adapt and improve the model.”

Receiving government funding, however, was not guaranteed. “I won’t get into politics, just facts,” says Awad-Asfour. “There is a funding gap between Arab and Jewish students – that is known. But there is a five-year government plan for Arab communities to which resources were allocated. One of the key clauses in that plan, made two years ago, was regarding the development of language literacy. The government understood that without investing in this issue, the disparity between Arabs and Jews would only grow wider.”

Emotions Without Words

ICEI’s Tamkin initiative supports schools on multiple levels. “The most transformative innovation is changing the perception of professional development for teachers,” says Awad-Asfour. “There’s a common assumption that weak teachers can’t change. Even when they attend professional development courses, many return to the classroom and continue teaching the same way. That’s why we at ICEI introduced a new role within each participating school: the Literacy Coach. ICEI’s Literacy Coaches receive intensive training and work daily in the schools to train teachers in innovative ICEI-developed teaching methods. The Literacy Coach is selected from within the teaching staff of each school, transforming the school from the inside and making the impact sustainable even after the program concludes.

Another significant shift involves the classroom environment. “Each Tamkin class receives a library of 400 to 500 books, divided according to level of difficulty. For children just learning to read, there are books with only one word per page. For those progressing, there are more complex stories. Either way, every child reads every day.”

But in today’s digital age, can children still relate to books?

“Absolutely. In Jisr a-Zarqa – a very tough area – children are thrilled to be reading and excited to take books home. The principal told us, ‘I gave up on books years ago, but Tamkin has brought me back to reading.”

ICEI’s model creates ripple effects beyond the classroom. “It’s not just about literacy,” says Awad-Asfour. “Tamkin is creating social change. It has transformed communication between parents and children. Using one of ICEI’s methods, ‘The King/Queen of Reading,’ each student has a turn to prepare a story with their homeroom teacher and parents and present it to the class. They read, ask questions, and receive feedback. As a result, conversations between parents and children are now about books.”

That shift, Awas-Asfour says, even changes parent-teacher dynamics. “Some families used to call and threaten teachers. Now they call to ask, ‘When will my child be the King of Reading? What book should we choose?’ It’s an exciting and new kind of dialogue these educators and parents never experienced with each other before.” “Recess has changed too,” says Awad-Asfour. “There used to be fights in the yard. Now you hear students asking each other, ‘What book would you recommend? What did you think of that story?’ The school culture has changed.”

“Using the ‘King of Reading’ program, we encourage parents to sit with their child, listen to him, and read with him. Parents enjoy the stories they read with their children and often find their child’s book choices to be emotional. One girl chose a book about a new baby sister right after her own sister was born. Her mother told us the book helped her understand what her daughter was feeling, so that she could be more empathetic.”

And does it lead parents to also get into reading?

“I believe it does. First of all, thanks to Tamkin, parents have begun reading with their children. Parents are more involved with their children’s education and teachers are sharing with parents what is happening at school. Using the ‘King of Reading’ program, we encourage parents to sit with their child, listen to him, and read with him. Parents enjoy the stories they read with their children and often find their child’s book choices to be emotional.

One girl chose a book about a new baby sister right after her own sister was born. Her mother told us the book helped her understand what her daughter was feeling, so that she could be more empathetic. Reading has a therapeutic role: When children feel lonely, scared, or angry, they choose books that reflect those emotions – and we work on those emotions.”

Language development, Awad-Asfour adds, is essential for emotional development. “In Arab society, expressing feelings can be difficult. There’s often a lack of vocabulary for it. Through Tamkin, we begin in first grade teaching how to listen, how to conduct a dialogue. These skills must be taught – how to look someone in the eye, really listen to them, and feel what they’re going through.” We implement this method of dialogical conversation every day. The stories allow us to work on expressing emotions: what do you do when you feel angry? Who do you turn to? How do you behave? Do you act out, share, withdraw? We raise awareness of behavior and build emotional intelligence alongside academic skills.”

“There’s a lot of resistance in the field,” she says. “Managing a class of 34 students in small groups instead of frontally is not an easy task – it’s overwhelming for many educators. But even those who have been in the system for 30 years manage to change their perception once they see the effectiveness of the Tamkin model.”

Every Child is A Leader

According to Awad-Asfour, one of the most striking outcomes of ICEI’s Tamkin initiative is the transformation in classroom culture and student responsibility. “When you walk into one of our participating schools, it feels like a different world,” she says. “You see schoolbags hanging neatly outside classrooms, students working in groups, structured meetings happening inside.”

During the first month, the program just focuses on teaching students about order, responsibility, and time management. Over the course of the year, every student gets a chance to serve as a group leader – making decisions, guiding their peers, and learning to take initiative. “In this way, every child becomes present, every child matters.” The results are evident. “Teachers report that since implementing ICEI’s Tamkin model, they no longer waste time on discipline. Everything is planned, consistent, and clear. Phones are not allowed in class, and every student has a designated seat. The atmosphere is calm and purposeful.”

Awad-Asfour acknowledges that the hardest part of the Tamkin process is in working with the teachers. “There’s a lot of resistance in the field,” she says. “Managing a class of 34 students in small groups instead of frontally is not an easy task – it’s overwhelming for many educators. But even those who have been in the system for 30 years manage to change their perception once they see the effectiveness of the Tamkin model.”

Awad-Asfour recounts how some students who were previously considered for Special Education have started to thrive in the classroom under the new approach. “They’ve found their voice,” she says. “And the teachers are the ones seeing that change firsthand.”

What About Hebrew? How important is it to the students’ future success?

“Hebrew is a serious obstacle,” Awad-Asfour explains. “My daughter finished high school with honors and speaks fluent English, but she chose to study in France just to avoid dealing with Hebrew. As I’ve said, if you don’t have a strong foundation in your first language, it’s very difficult to acquire additional ones. Arab students must navigate spoken Arabic, formal Arabic, Hebrew, and English – it’s a tremendous burden.”

Awad-Asfour believes that the system for teaching Hebrew in Israel must undergo a real change. “Israel is 30 years behind in language instruction,” she says. “Modern systems like CEFR (Common European Framework of Reference for Languages) emphasize the importance of connection and motivation. However, Arab schools in Israel teach Hebrew without context. My son, for instance, had to memorize 20 words for a test – he remembered them for the test, and forgot them the next day. The words were disconnected from his daily life and from his passions.”

The Jewish educational system also suffers from numerous flaws. Could the model also be suitable there?

“The Israel Center for Educational Innovation also operates in 30 Jewish schools, as well as in mixed Jewish-Arab schools that have their own complexities. We have an ICEI network school in Ramle where 60% of the students are Arab. We had to figure out how students whose mother tongue is Arabic could succeed in a school environment where Hebrew is the primary language. But it’s not just Arab students – there are children of immigrants, Russian-speaking families, and children of foreign workers. Every school has its complexities, including those in the Jewish educational system.”

Despite the immense challenges, Awad-Asfour remains optimistic.

“A child who experiences learning through the Tamkin model is set on a different path,” she says. “It will be easier for him to learn the language, succeed in school, and integrate into society.” Not long ago, she visited one of ICEI’s participating schools, and the principal shared something that stayed with her: “She told me, I used to think the phrase ‘every child can’ was just a slogan. Today, I can see it happening in our classrooms. I see our dream being realized.”

[Excerpted from the article that appeared March 22, 2024 in the Jerusalem Post]
By JUDITH SEGALOFF

Iraq al-Shabaab is [one of 15 schools] implementing the Tamkin Joint Venture, a promising new educational collaboration expected to mark a potential shift in elementary education.

Arab students are twice as likely as their Jewish peers to leave school prematurely and score notably lower on OECD international assessments. The Tamkin system hopes to boost reading confidence and […improve performance in] schools like Iraq al-Shabaab, marking a potential shift in Arab elementary education across Israel.

Arab elementary schools are disproportionately lacking resources. To address this, the Education Ministry is jointly investing NIS 33 million in the Tamkin Joint Venture with the Israel Center for Educational Innovation (ICEI) to increase Arab literacy in low-income district Arab-Israeli schools. The word “tamkin” means “foundation” or “empowerment” in Arabic.

Don Futterman, executive director and founder of the Israel Center for Educational Innovation (ICEI), pointed out that while Arab-Israeli children speak Arabic it is not unusual for those from lower economic sectors to have basic literacy challenges mastering Arabic, reflecting the complexities of the differences in spoken and written Arabic language. Additionally, many, even in mixed schools, never learn to communicate in Hebrew. This leaves them at a disadvantage when it comes to pursuing academic studies and white-collar employment later in life. The ICEI pilot program in Arab elementary schools began five years ago, administered by staff based in both Kfar Saba and Nazareth.

The Tamkin Joint Venture targets the needs of Arab elementary schools, where many children are underperforming. Since the beginning of this year, the Tamkin Joint Venture has been operational in 15 schools. They provide a literacy coach to each school and have former principals mentor the current principals. Additionally, each classroom is equipped with a robust library to encourage reading.

“If elementary and middle school students do not get the basics of reading, writing, and dialogic education, they can fall behind for the rest of their lives,” explains Futterman. The collaboration [is operating] in 15 elementary schools in communities including Umm el-Fahm, Jisr e-Zarka, and Kafr Kanna, uniting diverse regions with a common vision for educational excellence.

Abeer Awawdi, principal of Alrouad Elementary School in Kafr Kana, has been using the Tamkin program since the beginning of 2024. She says the Tamkin approach, because it is centered on targeted teaching and learning strategies, has empowered teachers to create a conducive learning environment where students are curious, engaged, and eager to learn.

“There has been a remarkable improvement in students’ academic achievements in Arabic language studies,” explains Awawdi, who says more students are reaching higher levels of proficiency. “Additionally, we’ve observed a narrowing of academic gaps among students, indicating a more equitable learning environment.”

She also noted, “Teacher collaboration has been enhanced, fostering a culture of teamwork, shared lesson planning, and knowledge exchange.”

With the matriculation rate in the Arab school system falling well below the equivalent rate in the Jewish education system, and Arab pupils scoring significantly lower in reading scores than Jewish pupils, improving Arab elementary schools has been one of the national priorities for the Education Ministry and the Social Equality Ministry.

Futterman, a social worker with degrees in community organization and literature, developed The Israel Center for Educational Innovation (ICEI) 15 years ago to address the struggles of the Ethiopian community.

“People were giving up on these children,” he recalls. “We built a program to help the schools raise achievement levels while being cognizant of the need not to separate these children out. Pulling them out of the classroom stigmatizes the children. The model served [dozens of] schools of Ethiopian concentration in the South and Center of the country.” He said the model not only helped children but also reinforced teachers’ sense of competence.

The ICEI program has also taught Hebrew [to Arab students] in [Jewish] schools in Ramle after Arab schools were shut down and non-[Hebrew-] speaking Arab students were suddenly integrated into regular state schools.

“Sometimes more than half the first-graders didn’t speak Hebrew,” Futterman said. “We had to get them up to speed fast. We are more agile than a larger bureaucratic system and within a few weeks, we put together a program that was focused on reading. It was not an ulpan and the kids were able to acquire basic Hebrew skills very quickly.”

Hana Laloush, director of the Department of Elementary Education at the Education Ministry, shared her vision for Tamkin.

“The goal is to tailor a program to precisely meet the needs of every school, encouraging social mobility, and breaking the correlation between socioeconomic status and achievement levels. The decision to embark on this joint venture expresses the Education Ministry’s belief that it is possible to break through the glass ceiling in participating schools. The Department of Elementary Education sees Tamkin as an opportunity to create fairness and equal opportunities for students, particularly for disadvantaged populations.”

When it comes to language acquisition, Arab students in Israel face a unique challenge—transitioning from spoken Arabic to literary Arabic while also mastering Hebrew. ICEI’s and the Ministry of Education’s “Tamkin” program equips them with tools to succeed throughout their academic journey, starting in elementary school. “When reading becomes a part of life, all doors open for you.”

The troubling dropout rate among Arab high school students has long been cause for alarm. Like other youth in Israel’s social periphery, Arabs typically struggle with reading and writing skills in their native language. Uniquely, however, Arab students face a threefold challenge: bridging the gap between the spoken Arabic they learn at home, the literary Arabic they learn at school and in which they are tested, and mastering Hebrew, Israel’s official language.

The Tamkin initiative (“empowerment” in Arabic) — a groundbreaking new program — helps students cope with critical literacy challenges starting in elementary school. Operating in 15 Arab schools including in Umm al-Fahm, Jisr al-Zarqa, Jaljulia, Lod, and Kafr Kanna, Tamkin seeks to greatly enhance educational opportunities in Israel’s Arab communities. Tamkin is a Joint Venture between the Ministry of Education, the Ministry for Social Equality, and the Israel Center for Educational Innovation (ICEI). The program trains school principals and teachers, helping them boost academic achievement in their schools.

As part of a five-year economic development plan for Arab society in Israel, the 33 million NIS initiative has received half of its funding from the Ministry of Education and half is being raised by the Israel Center for Educational Innovation. Its goals include narrowing educational gaps between Jewish and Arab schools, while empowering principals, teachers, and the schools they serve.

Traditionally, most government investments in Arab education have focused on high schools, with few programs aimed at elementary schools. Research demonstrates, however, that acquiring basic literacy skills in elementary school is vital for future success in all academic disciplines.

The Tamkin program stresses reading, writing, and dialogic discussion. To promote reading, each classroom is equipped with a library containing hundreds of books, carefully arranged by degree of difficulty in accordance with students’ reading level. The physical classroom space has been reimagined with cozy reading corners, designed innovatively to make reading attractive.

“I discovered that I love reading books,” says Adam Madah, a second-grade student. “The teachers really encourage us to read, and we have books in every classroom. It isn’t easy for me to learn different languages, but I feel like I’m succeeding. Sometimes I even help my parents with things I learned in school.”

Each participating school enjoys the services of a literacy coach, a new professional position brought to Israel by ICEI. Working on site, the coach guides the school’s instructional team. Schools are also equipped with ICEI’s Medida system, an innovative digital platform that enables teachers to track their students’ progress, ensure no one is left behind, and help outstanding students realize their potential.

“Change is never easy, especially in the education system,” says Hala Odeh, principal of the Ajyal School in Jaljulia. “But judging from the performance of our students, this was definitely the right move. Tamkin has helped us create a common educational language while empowering students with greater autonomy in learning. They build a stronger vocabulary and are surrounded by a language-rich classroom environment that promotes language acquisition. The program helps us identify students who need additional language support and intervene in a timely fashion.”

“ICEI has a unique approach to Israel’s educational challenges,” says Don Futterman, the organization’s founder and Executive Director. “The key, in our view, is to strengthen basic skills from an early age. Both spoken and written language are essential to help students develop the learning skills they need for academic success.”

“We believe that teaching mother-tongue language in a way that is relevant and tailored to students’ needs is the key to meaningful change,” adds Dr. Shirin Natour Hafi, the Ministry of Education’s Director of Education in Arab Society. “Uniquely, this program not only helps students, it also empowers teachers both personally and professionally.”

According to Sally Awad Asfour, ICEI’s Deputy Executive Director, “When a student is exposed to hundreds of books during their elementary school years, books become an inseparable part of his or her life—a source of knowledge and enjoyment. Through reading and classroom discussions, students acquire essential skills such as leadership, dialogue management, reflective thinking, and teamwork. The program’s structured framework also helps create a safe environment that significantly reduces school violence. When these skills are acquired at a young age, they drive social change.”

By Bat-Chen Epstein Elias for Israel Hayom, June 26, 2024

For the original article in Israel Hayom in Hebrew, click here.

Neta-Li Galili, a smart and sensitive girl with long hair gathered in a ponytail, sits straight-backed in her chair. She speaks quietly and chooses her words carefully. The past year has been full of turmoil for her. Having grown up on Kibbutz Kfar Azza and moved to Bnei Ayish only two years ago “to get away from the rockets,” the October 7th attack has profoundly affected her.

And so, when asked to write a story about any subject she chose for the ICEI’s Young Writers Competition, she chose to write about her own difficult experience. It began on the day when her mother survived the Re’im Nova music festival massacre, but several of her good friends and acquaintances from Kfar Azza were kidnapped by Hamas terrorists.

“I felt that it was the right story for this year,” she says, sitting up even straighter. “The writing process was liberating and hard at the same time, but it was still important to me to write about my story from that day. I really like drawing, and it helps me concentrate, but when I decided to write I realized that writing is very freeing and gives me the strength to cope with reality.”

Neta-Li’s story, Double Miracle, won third place in the fifth-grade competition. I cautiously ask her what has made her happy recently, and the wise girl sitting opposite me replies: “I was very happy when I found out that our army is strong and can fight Hamas and free hostages. I’m happy that we moved to Bnei Ayish. There are still ‘booms’ here and that scares me, but I know it’s calmer here. Sometimes I write in my diary about the good things that happen to me so I can remember them. In general, I recommend that everyone write. It doesn’t matter what, just write in any situation.”

Neta-Li is one of forty winners from elementary schools that participate in the Israel Center for Educational Innovation program. The Center runs a program for improving academic and educational achievements through the development of language skills, reading and writing abilities, and open dialogue in schools. For a full year, the students learn to describe events, develop characters, craft dialogue, and more, all leading up to the final story-writing process.

No Dragons or Enchanted Kingdoms

In honor of Hebrew Book Week, we decided to tell the stories of four of the young winners, who describe their experiences of the current war as seen through their own eyes. From a total of five thousand stories submitted by students in grades three through six at participating schools, stories by forty young writers were chosen for their especially moving writing. They could have written about any topic in the world – about dragons and enchanted kingdoms, their friends, their school – but most of the stories submitted this year, unsurprisingly, related to the war.

For example, Ido Roth from the Gamla School in Katzrin, who won third place in the fifth grade, chose to write about his cousin Omri Roth, who was killed in battle. Ido is an energetic boy who plays soccer and ping pong, but what really relaxes him is meditation, which he practices before every training session. Around his neck, he wears a chain with a disk inscribed with a dedication to Omri. “Omri and I spent a lot of time together, playing soccer, talking. We were close and met up on Saturdays a lot. He was my cousin, but he felt like my brother. The moment he was killed, everything changed for me and that’s why I decided to write about him. At first, I didn’t really want to share, because it was a very sensitive subject, but I realized that Omri was a hero who fought for the State of Israel, and because of the story everyone knows he’s a hero.”

Ido recalls that the story-writing project was announced a few weeks after Omri was killed, “and it was clear to me that I wanted to write about him. I wanted to release the painful feeling I had that whole time, and when I wrote I felt close to him.”

Omri’s mother, Shirli Roth, is the vice principal at Ido’s school. When Ido decided to write about Omri, he sat down with her at school. “Suddenly I learned all kinds of things about him that I didn’t know before he was killed. I didn’t know that he injured his foot a month after the war started and still went back to fight. I learned all sorts of things that showed me what a hero he was.

“At first I wrote the story like a report. Just that my cousin was killed. But then, with the help of the ICEI literacy coach, I added feelings and descriptions that added a lot to the story. I discovered emotions that I didn’t know existed, like the courage to share or the ability to express how much I miss him, and I was able to let them out, thanks to the writing. Writing lets us memorialize the people who are important to us.”

Ido isn’t looking forward to the summer. “In Katzrin, we are already used to the sirens, to the run to the shelter, to the neighbors,” he says. “And if a war starts, I guess I’ll move closer to the center of the country.”

“The past year was particularly disruptive for everyone in the country, our students included,” says Don Futterman Executive Director and Founder of ICEI. “With the Young Writers Competition, we encourage the children to share their inner worlds, and we were not surprised that many of the stories submitted this year were about October 7th and the ensuing war. This year, we were especially moved to see that the children wanted to express their fears, their pain, their hopes, and were also learning to write at the highest levels.”

Agam Altit from the Gamla School in Katzrin won first place among the fourth graders. Her story, which brought tears to the eyes of ICEI’s literacy coaches, was about how much she missed her father, who was called up for reserve duty on October 7th and rarely came home.

In her spare time, Agam likes dancing, singing, and recording happy events in her diary. Her most recent diary entry, for example, was written after she won first place in the writing competition. But at the start of the war, things were hard. “It was stressful because it was my first experience of war,” she says softly. “He would leave home and come back a long time later, which always felt like forever to me. At first, I didn’t know what to write about, but then he took out his uniform again, and I realized that I wanted to write about him. And it was really hard at the beginning. I didn’t know how I would be able to talk about the difficulty of it with other people, let alone put it down on paper. But in the end, I managed to write what I feel, and it even freed me and helped me to open up about what I have deep inside.”

Dad Read It and Was Very Moved

Agam’s father, she later told me, was very moved when he read what she had written. Other family members also encouraged her and were also touched by her writing. “I never imagined that I would win first place; I was surprised and very excited. But I think that it’s an important message to all children – that if your parents aren’t home much, you have to know how to deal with it and cope with the difficulty. And if it’s hard to talk about the difficulty, you can write about it. Writing helps us to cope better with the challenges in daily life. At first, I didn’t like reading or writing at all, but in fourth grade, I found the Tom Gates books and ever since then, I’ve really loved reading and writing.”

Osher Mengistu, a fifth-grader at the Arlozorov School in Ashkelon, only returned to school in January. His city had its fair share of rocket attacks and sirens, and Osher was keenly aware of every phase of the war. In his spare time, he likes to play soccer with his friends, but he chose to write his story, titled, Dangerous Viewing, about the risks of young children being exposed to the videos of atrocities that flooded social media after October 7th.

Osher’s story won second place in the fifth-grade competition. “Even though writing about the war was painful, October 7th is an important subject that we need to talk about,” he says softly. “I hope that in the future people will read this story and learn how difficult and terrible October 7th was from a child’s perspective, and how frightening it was for kids. It’s also important to me that kids know that they shouldn’t visit websites that are not appropriate for their age because I saw with my own eyes how bad that is for a kid. My main insight from this war is that we have to help each other, and especially appreciate the work of doctors. It’s my dream to be a doctor and to help everyone.”

The Children’s Stories:

The Letter, Agam Altit, Gamla School, Katzrin, first place in fourth grade

The annual story competition is just around the corner. I sat at the kitchen table in my house and thought of ideas for a story. Mom is in the kitchen baking challah for Shabbat, and I saw her packing some special pastries in fancy wrapping.

Dad walked out of his room with the big backpack and, on his way to the kitchen, he stopped by the big bookcase and took out some important-looking documents from the closet and put them in his pocket. I continued to try to write my story, but then I saw that my dad was also taking his uniform out of the closet. Dad is going to spend Shabbat in the army again. Now the only thing that I can think about is Dad.

There’s rain outside or, more precisely, a flood. “Dad you’re going away again?” I asked, worried. “Yes sweetheart, I promise the time will pass quickly,” Dad answered as he continued to organize the big backpack. I watch Dad, it seems that he is also sad, and the silence reveals his feelings.

Now Dad took his uniform shirt and arranged his ranks and affixed the pins. They look important although I have no idea what each one means. Dad explained it to me a few times but I don’t remember, definitely not now when I have to say goodbye to him, even if it’s just for a short time. “Shabbat is family time,” Dad always says. So why is he going? I ask myself in a last desperate effort to try to find a subject for a story.

Dad took a cookie from the bag of cookies and hugged Mom. On my page, I wrote “Shabbat Shalom Dad, I miss you already,” and then I folded up the page quickly before anyone could see it.

The phone rang. Dad looked at the clock and started to hurry, “I’ll be there in half an hour,” Dad said and he added a few other words that I didn’t understand. Sometimes Dad uses words that even Mom doesn’t understand. Dad tells Mom what he was talking about and now her sad face looks worried.

Dad hugged me and I wanted to say a few more things to him but I only managed an embarrassed half-smile. I also got a kiss on the forehead.

Dad stroked Waffle, the dog, who wagged his tail as though he didn’t understand that Dad was going away for a few days. Mom finished getting the bag of food ready. One last hug and the door closes. That’s when I decided, instead of a story I would write a letter, a letter from a daughter to a father. Because that’s what happens when the longing for him comes every week.

Sunday arrives and I’m at school. At recess, everyone is playing, throwing balls, singing songs, but in my heart, it’s just me and Dad. I took the crumpled page out of my pocket – you remember it, right? The one I folded up on Friday morning when Dad left. Holding back the tears, I started to write, because that’s the only way to make the time pass.

Dad

It’s been two days already and I miss you,

the dad who helps with homework, takes us on trips,

the dad who always understands me.

Last week when I cried Dad was the first to hug me.

Are you cold? Did you eat some of the cookies?

I didn’t manage to give you the note so I turned it into a letter.

Mom told me that you got hold of a heater and slept on a mattress.

You gave the bed to a friend.

I love you Dad, you are still missed.

Agam.

The bell rings. Kids run into class, laughing, happy; they don’t really understand what we are going through – the kids who are missing someone. Because when Dad isn’t here, every clap of thunder sounds more frightening, every flash of lightning blazes more brightly.

The teacher is saying some words that I don’t understand. It’s a terrible lesson.

Because from moment to moment it just gets worse – you know, the longing.

I wonder if anyone else here in the classroom feels like I do.

This story of mine is a bit different, do you see?

I wanted to write a story about princesses and what came out was a story about life.

The teacher suddenly stopped and asked me: “Agam what’s it about, the story you’re writing?” And I smiled a little and felt embarrassed because my story is different from any fairytale. I answered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear the question,” and I smiled. Dad says a smile solves every problem.

Now it’s quiet in the classroom, like the quiet before a storm, a silence that will end only when Dad comes back. This story is a true story and it happened to me last Shabbat.

It’s dedicated to my father who, in the meantime, has come back – until the next time.

He also read my story and he even shed a tear.

Dedicated to my father, Warrant Officer Idan Altit, who I love the most, forever and always!

Dangerous Viewing, Osher Mengistu, Arlozorov School, Ashkelon, second place in fifth grade

It’s the morning of the Simchat Torah holiday and there’s no school. I planned to get up late like I always like to do when there’s no school, but at six-thirty in the morning I woke up in a panic to the sounds of sirens that didn’t stop. My parents and I looked at each other – my parents looked pretty calm and were sure it was a false alarm. The truth is, my mother is naturally a calm person most of the time. Her name is Yirus, and my teacher always tells me that I was blessed with a fabulous mother, and she is really right.

Mom is always caring and sensitive, and I love to be with her. She makes me laugh and she always takes care of all of us at home. She cooks the best food in the world and I love her so much. When the sirens sounded, my little sister, who’s four years old, was scared and started to cry. Mom went to her and together we all tried to calm her down.

When the sirens sounded over and over again my father turned on the television and even though it was very early, they were broadcasting news. The headline was “Hamas Surprise Attack.” The whole day we sat and watched the news. I remember that we were all silent and my mother’s face was sad. As the day went by, we understood the scope of the disaster, an unbelievable number of dead, kidnapped, a huge disaster. The days passed – they passed slowly, with disturbing thoughts. The whole time I was afraid that there would be another surprise attack like that on Israel. Three days after the start of the war, we left our house and moved to my grandmother’s because she has a safe room.

Grandma came to Israel from Ethiopia with Operation Moses. She doesn’t speak any Hebrew at all and it’s hard for me to communicate with her because I don’t understand the language. She tries a little to speak a few words in Hebrew but I don’t always manage to understand her. But she still knows how to give me a lot of love and that’s what is important. Grandma’s house is spacious and it has room for my whole family. I slept in the safe room with my brother.

This summer my big brother Solomon will celebrate his bar mitzva. We have a good relationship. During the fighting, it seemed as though he wasn’t afraid of anything, until he changed. Solomon really likes to be on his phone – he watches TikTok and other apps. One evening my brother Solomon was in our room while the rest of us were together in the living room watching TV. I turned towards our room to call him to come and sit with us. I went into the room quietly and when he saw me, he was frightened and switched off his phone. I asked him, “What are you doing in here? Why don’t you come to sit with us in the living room?” Solomon got up and left the room and I was suspicious. I remembered his reaction when I walked into the room and I decided that when Solomon left his phone somewhere I would check what he was watching and that’s what happened.

I waited patiently for the evening and for him to have a shower. At nine o’clock I heard Mom call him, “Solomon, you’re the only one who hasn’t showered. Get in there before the sirens start again.” I heard Mom and I waited until it was time to act. Solomon disappeared into the bathroom and I hurried to our room, walked in, and immediately took his phone, opened it, and checked the last apps he used. I saw Telegram and I remembered that on the news they talked about how kids were using that app and looking at difficult pictures from during the war. I clicked on them fearfully and I saw videos that were very hard to watch. I saw a terrible image of terrorists dancing on the dead bodies of Israelis and I was shocked! I switched off the phone right away and went to Mom. I didn’t say a word, I just held out Solomon’s phone and showed her what he was watching. Mom was very angry – I had never seen her so angry. She’s usually calm and she doesn’t get irritated with us. She waited patiently in the room for Solomon and when he came in, she said to him, “I saw on your phone what you’re watching. I am very angry. You know that I don’t allow you to watch such terrible videos. They can cause you trauma and anxiety. I am asking you right now to delete the app and not to download it again!”

In response to Mom, Solomon said, “Mom, it doesn’t frighten me, I don’t understand what you’re talking about, what kind of trauma could I have?” Solomon argued with her but it didn’t make any difference. When Mom makes up her mind, you can’t argue with her, and over the years, I have understood that Mom is always right, and she was right this time too. As the days passed it seemed as though Solomon was changing. He started to close himself in the room, to spend more time alone, and he didn’t talk about what he was going through.

Mom wouldn’t leave him alone. She kept trying to talk to him all the time and she didn’t give up until he admitted, “I’m having a hard time, I need help. I’m always thinking about those terrible videos that I watched and they keep haunting me.” Mom hugged him hard. She encouraged him with lots of heart-to-heart talks. I told you that my mother is sensitive and she really is. She helped my brother so much and as the days passed, he started to act like his old self. I learned from what happened to my brother that it’s not worth it to watch videos online that are not meant for kids and that it’s important to listen to advice from adults, especially your mom, because, I’m telling you, there’s nobody in the world like a mom.

Story of A Hero, Ido Roth, Gamla School, Katzrin, third place in fifth grade

My name is Ido and I live in Katzrin, way out in the Golan Heights. Do you know it?!

I want to tell you about my relationship with my cousin, Omri.

Omri and I were really close. Sometimes it even went beyond a family connection. We were good friends who played a lot of games together on the soccer field.

Omri was a lot older than me. I’m in fifth grade and Omri already finished his army service.

I remember our talks, the funny stories that made me laugh so much, the smile that stretched across his face. When I remember the stories, I still smile and imagine Omri laughing.

Everything started to change on October 7th. Omri got a phone call, and at the other end of the line was the commander of his unit saying, “Omri, a war has broken out, go quickly to the meeting place to be picked up!”

When he got the message, he wanted so badly to get there on time, but there was a problem! You’re probably wondering what the problem was.

Omri was staying in the center of the country with his girlfriend and he was far away from his parents’ house in Katzrin. Before he could mobilize, he had to get his uniform from his house. Do you know how far it is from the center of the country to Katzrin? It takes a long time to get there!

He wanted so badly to get to the meeting place on time and he didn’t know what to do. Should he travel to Katzrin to get his uniform or should he get to his battalion as quickly as possible?

Omri went immediately to the meeting place and his father brought him his uniform and equipment. To comfort him, his mother sent him a box of cookies she had in the pantry.

Omri posted a message on the family group: “Dear family, this is the start of a war.”

I asked my mother, “Where’s Omri?” and Mom replied, “Omri and his tank unit were called to join the war in the northern Gaza Strip, to fight alongside Battalion 13 of the Golani Brigade.”

And Mom added, “He’s a hero and he’s not afraid, he is determined to win the fight.”

A month after he was called up for reserve duty Omri hurt his foot but, luckily for him, it was a relatively minor injury. You know what, I didn’t even know about it!

Even after he was injured, he decided to go back to continue his reserve duty.

I had so many questions and things I didn’t know about Omri. What did he do in his army service? Was he in the armored corps, a paratrooper, or maybe in Golani?

As the days passed, news came in about the war that cast a shadow over our peaceful lives. I felt an uncomfortable feeling growing inside me, a feeling that I couldn’t shake off. In an attempt to cope with my feelings, I turned to writing and I started a journal to keep a record of my thoughts and emotions during these turbulent times and to ask Omri questions.

How was he doing? Was he frightened because of the war? I didn’t know anything about what was happening to him and I missed him so much.

And this is what I wrote in my journal:

“Days have passed since we last talked or met and the silence is deafening. I watch the news and worry, hoping for any word about how you are. I miss our talks and our joking. Where are you, cousin? Are you okay? Please come back to us soon, I miss you.”

I knew that he was fine, but it was important to me to write in my journal every day!

“I find myself staring out at the empty soccer field where we used to play. The days feel longer without you, and my heart aches with worry. Stay strong and determined to win. I want to let you know that we are all waiting for your safe return.”

Today is the first night of Hannukah, a holiday that is supposed to be all about light and joy, but as we gathered around the Hannukiah to celebrate the first evening, the terrible news arrived – Omri had fallen in battle.

Instead of flickering flames that would provide warmth and hope, we were confronted by the chilling news of your death. How can darkness overshadow a time that is meant for joy? How will we be able to find light in the middle of such despair? Even the flames of the candles cast shadows that reflected the heaviness in our hearts. The festive spirit was replaced by silence. While we are still dealing with the harsh reality of loss and with the thought that I won’t see you anymore, I write many questions in my journal.

The question that interested me the most was how did he die.

That evening, I found the courage to share my journal with my mother, to reveal my thoughts, my emotions, and the longing that filled the pages. I wanted her to answer all my questions or at least some of the questions that I wanted to ask Omri.

My mother told me that Omri was killed by an anti-tank missile, that he was the commander of the tank.

He didn’t have time to react before he was killed.

I turned to Mom and I said, “He was always loyal and connected to everyone. He loved soccer and basketball, loved music, loved to run and he was kindhearted, and that’s how I want to remember him!”

My mother hugged me and tears filled her eyes.

The funeral was very dignified, a military funeral. Hundreds of people came from all over the country.

I wrote a eulogy for him. My voice was steady when I read the eulogy that I wrote for him. “Omri, my dear cousin, you were always the hero of the family. When I play basketball, there’s the hand that throws and the hand that supports and you were my supporting hand. You always said that Uriel and Roi (my cousins) and I are the next generation of the family. Always, but really always, remember that I love you forever.”

Omri, may his memory be blessed, was a hero – son of Shlomi and Shirli and brother of Gal and Ma’ayan.

I conclude my journal with the sentence: “This is the story of my dear cousin the hero, Omri Roth.”

Double Miracle, Neta-Li Galili, Ofek School, Bnei Ayish, third place in fifth grade

Hi, my name is Neta-Li and I’m eleven years old and I live in Bnei Ayish. Until two years ago I lived on Kibbutz Kfar Azza and I have amazing memories from there. We moved to Bnei Ayish and I built myself a life that is just as good, but I always missed Kfar Azza and remembered my friends and my life on the kibbutz.

Fate brought me to my beloved kibbutz on Saturday, October 7th. A war broke out in the State of Israel. And that’s when my mother’s private war broke out.

On the Friday before, we ate a completely ordinary family supper at Grandma and Grandpa’s, and Mom told us excitedly that she was going to a party. I wasn’t too worried because my mom loves to dance and have fun with her friends. Simchat Torah is a happy holiday and I was happy for her.

I went to sleep over at my Aunt Anna’s house. Her daughter Lia and I had fun together the whole evening. We laughed, we played, we danced until we fell asleep together in bed, exhausted. Little Lia likes to sleep with me. When she wakes up at night, she always checks that I’m still next to her and when she sees me, she relaxes and goes back to sleep. That’s how things were that night too: ordinary, calm, and happy. Nothing prepared us for the difficult morning that was coming.

At about six in the morning, we all woke up to the sound of long, loud sirens. In a panic, I grabbed Lia by the hand and ran with her to the safe room. We were all terrified, Lia cried a lot, and Anna and her husband, with their little baby, were also frightened. I was also scared, but when I saw that Lia was more scared, I wanted to make her feel safe and calm so I talked to her, “Lia, my sweetie, it’s okay, I’m here with you and I’m not going anywhere. Right, when you wake up at night and you see me next to you, you relax? So, it’s exactly the same: look at me, breathe in, I’m with you.” I saw that it was working so I immediately called my mother.

Mom answered fast. Now, when I think about it, it was quite strange. My mother usually doesn’t hear the phone when she’s in a noisy place with music, and it takes her some time to answer. She answered after one ring. I told her quickly, “Mom, we have loads of sirens! What about you? Are there sirens where you are, too?”

“No, sweetheart, it’s quiet here. I’m up north, everything’s quiet here, you have nothing to worry about. How are you? How are you doing?” Mom asked me.

“I’m here with Lia and I’m helping to calm her down,” I spoke very confidently so that Mom wouldn’t feel how terrified I was myself.

I could hear in Mom’s voice how proud she was of me, that I was mature and responsible and managing to deal with my anxieties and even helping to calm down the people around me.

I asked Mom, “Can I call you again?” Mom answered, “Of course, call whenever you want to, my love.”

What I didn’t know was that the moment I hung up, Mom was beginning her escape from the Nova festival. Mom, who knows the area around Gaza very well, got all her friends moving and begged them to get into their cars and drive home because it wasn’t an ordinary missile attack. Mom screamed at them, “Hurry to your cars, we have to get out of here, we’re exposed here!” Mom and her friend Meir got into the car quickly even though it was hard for Meir to walk fast because he has an old foot injury.

Mom asked Meir, who was driving, to turn up the music on the radio because the booms were so loud. A few times Meir suggested to Mom that they stop at one of the shelters by the side of the road but my mom just wanted him to keep driving and in the end that’s what saved her life and his…

Meanwhile, in Gadera, we turned on the TV to find out what was going on. What I saw frightened me terribly.

I saw the face of my good friend Ofri Brodutch as she was being kidnapped from her house with her family and taken to Gaza. My good friend – kidnapped in Gaza with her two little brothers and her mother???

My friends becoming a symbol of war? What kind of world is this? I asked myself over and over again. Why did this happen to her? My Ofri is kind and gentle, an amazing friend, and funny. Why would they possibly take her? All these questions spun in my head nonstop.

It’s hard for me to explain in words what I felt at that moment. Imagine that your good friend has been kidnapped by terrorists and taken to a horrible place in the middle of a war! I was so worried about her and I wanted to tell my mom the terrible news but Mom wasn’t answering me.

It was only after three days of worry and anxiety that I went to meet Mom. The moment I saw her I ran to her and hugged her hard and at night we slept together. We found out that my mother’s good friends hadn’t been as lucky as my mom was.

When she found out, my mother cried so much that I felt that she had lost her last bit of hope. I cried with her and I told her, “Mom, don’t worry, Itzik is watching over you from above and you will keep on dancing for him.”

In the meantime, my friend Ofri came back in a hostage deal.

I take care of my mom a lot, who still isn’t herself and is still processing the miracle that happened to her. It’s the second miracle to happen to Mom and me. The first was when we left Kfar Azza and didn’t experience the terrible things that happened there on October 7th.

We pray every day for our friends who are still hostages in Gaza and for peace for us and all of Israel.