Three weeks ago, barely five days after the rockets stopped falling, I received permission to enter Israel. Every trip to Israel is emotional but this one was even more so. It is hard to be the president of AMIT and not see our students and teachers in person because that is what makes this position a labor of love. After 14 months I was ready.
I visited our schools in Ashkelon, Sderot, Acco, Petach Tikvah, Beer Tuvia, Raanana, and Kiryat Malachi. I spent Shabbat at the annual Shabbaton (which was canceled last year) with our principals, regional and HQ staff, and their spouses. I did a podcast on “what I wish I knew when I was 16” with two students from Acco that will be broadcast throughout the reshet. But that is just the top line. Here is what I really did:
I heard how the bombs impacted the secretary of our school in Ashkelon. She and her husband are hard of hearing but their two children are not. Because she could not hear the sirens, the whole family spent several nights together in their mamad (reinforced shelter) since she was afraid the family wouldn’t hear the sirens overnight and would be exposed. One morning when she woke up, she commented that she was so happy it had been such a quiet night. Her son responded that on the contrary, the sirens had gone off 8 times, and each time, he had gotten up and closed the door. She then spoke of how at that moment she felt their roles had been reversed – her children had become the parents and she and her husband the children.
I met with the mayor of Sderot in his war room. There, young people sit in front of computers watching every single block in the city and alerting the police to any and all dangers. He talked about the resilience that is required to live so close to the border and how trauma can suddenly appear many years later. I met with high school students who talked about the cohesiveness and closeness of the residents of Sderot so that when the rockets fall, their immediate reaction is to find people to help despite their own personal fears. I also met with an AMIT family of a destroyed house in the middle of their destroyed house. No self-pity here. Just a readiness to rebuild.
I was lucky to accompany Ettie, AMIT Acco’s principal on a visit to one of our teachers after he woke up from head injuries sustained when a violent mob on the street beat him. He had been worried about the safety of his students because he had not been able to reach all of them by phone and went looking for them. Although he was unable to speak, he managed to ask with hand motions about the students he was so worried about. Despite his own injuries, his relief was palpable and his joy at seeing Ettie was unmistakable.
I visited Beer Tuvia, a newly acquired secular school in AMIT and heard from my student guides on what the takeover by AMIT meant – better science, better art, more exciting learning opportunities, and less teacher turnover. For a COVID year, I’d call that a success.
I accompanied a group of boys from the Hammer H.S. in Rehovot to the Bailenson hospital in Tel Aviv. There they receive lectures from the cardiothoracic team and observe surgery so that they understand the heart well enough to help develop better aortic valves. This is part of the partnership program AMIT has developed to open the walls of academia to the real world.
My trip preparation began as a re-entry to Israel after COVID, but after a week and a half of missiles raining down it became something deeper. Dr. Michael Cohen, an engineer and the architect of our joint AMIT Bailenson program, personifies this double mission. Not only is he a bio-medical engineer with a record of patents and “exits,” he also works on the radar systems that locate Hamas’ underground tunnels. Returning to Israel after a short hiatus made me that much more aware of how education drives Israel – and how AMIT drives education.
