Learning and Cognition Final Paper

Azrieli Graduate School for Jewish Education and Administration

Leora Balk Lesher

What an enlightening experience discovering the definition, means, and goals of

tefilah with my three interviewees of diverse age groups! I had two of my nieces,
students in first and fifth grade, as well as a student of mine from NCSY in 11th grade,
participate as my interviewees for this assignment. Because I am teaching six classes
this week at NCSY’s National Yarchei Kallah related to tefilah, as the theme of this
year’s program is “In Our Thoughts and Our Prayers - Exploring the Shemoneh Esrei”,
prayer is very much on my mind and felt only natural for me to learn even more about
by discovering what my three interviewees each knew about prayer and could be
pushed to further comprehend more clearly.

Before beginning my interviews, I tried to set the proper protocol and do my due
diligence preparing. I wrote down some of the major questions I intended to use to open
up a conversation and allow the students to reveal comfortably and confidently what
they knew about prayer. While I initially had planned to focus on the Shemoneh Esrei
prayer, particularly the first blessing, “Avos”, in the interviews, I quickly decided to
expand and broaden my questions so that I could converse about prayer with all three
of the interviewees at their own ages. Anyone old enough to talk can talk about or at
least be prompted to discuss prayer or God. But, my precious niece in only first grade
would be far too young to discuss the Shemoneh Esrei prayer she has not yet learned
to recite and has possibly never even heard of, so I shifted the focus of the questions
accordingly.

Some of my starter questions included “What is tefilah?.” If the answer I received

was simply “Prayer,” I pushed and asked “Well, what exactly is prayer?”, and so on. In
all three interviews, I wanted to know what the interviewee thought prayer was and help
her broaden that definition. I wanted each to come to the realization on his own (with my
questions helping to lead the way, but without stating straight-out) that prayer is not just
asking for something you want, as many think. Prayer is also not limited to the confines
of the siddur, or even to the limits of pre-established brachos we say throughout the
day, but includes even our own praises, requests, and thanks, even said in english,
even said spontaneously one day, then again another day about something else, even
when no one else knows what the words of our prayers are. In each interview, despite
the wide age gap between the first, fifth, and 11th graders, the interviewee was able to
come to this realization (each at her own level, of course). It was really beautiful to
watch the first and fifth graders, particularly, realize that if prayer is talking to God,
praising Him, thanking Him, making requests of Him, then there would be no reason
they only could pray at school or at shul or in hebrew.

With all three students, I tried to validate their answers, show I was listening, nod
my head and never make them feel like they made a big mistake. I ensured them the
purpose of these questions was not to see if they got the right answer and that, for
some of the questions, there ​was ​no one right answer. After asking my first question or
two and receiving their responses, my next question usually served as a follow-up to the
knowledge they had shown me they had. I tried to take the answer each interviewee
provided and say “Ok, well if that’s true, then how about XYZ?” or “Well, you say XYZ.
What about in ABC situation, could that still be true there?”

For example, the conversation with the first grader, unsurprisingly, dealt with
clarifying much more basic truths about tefilah. The goal became helping her clarify how
one defines tefilah and what is accomplished through tefilah. When I first asked what
tefilah is, she replied that she had “no idea.” I helped her realize that she did, in fact,
have some idea. “Well, what exactly do you do during davening at school? Do you jump
up and down? Do you dance? Do you say things? What do you do?” From there, she
began to loosen up and speak about what actions were done, ie saying words and
singing songs. Next, I worked to help her articulate why her class said those words or
sang those songs. Was it just out of the blue? For fun? Or were they speaking to
someone, singing to someone? Slowly, I watched the gears turning as I triggered her
thought process until, on her own, though always with a tinge of questioning in her voice
and raised doubtful eyebrows, she was able to respond with something that showed
next-level understanding, such as ​“We’re talking to someone?... Hashem?”​ (as opposed
to a confident ​“Oh, yes we’re talking to someone, to Hashem!​) I assured her she was
doing great!

With my fifth grade interviewee, I used parable and real life examples to help her
think outside her preconceived notions. She had this solid idea in her mind that tefilah in
its most ideal form is something recited in Hebrew, pre-established and passed on
throughout the generations, almost like a set rule or production system she could not
think outside of on her own. At one point, she was talking about how we praise God
every time we say “Baruch Atah Hashem Elokeinu Melech haolam” and gave
Shemoneh Esrei as an example. I then asked her if we say that phrase, and therefore
praise Hashem, anywhere else throughout our day. She was able to think of bentching,
saying the blessing “asher yatzar” after going to the bathroom, and reciting the blessing
after ritually washing one’s hands in the morning or before eating bread. I asked her
“Ok, so how many times a day does one daven?”, to which she replied “Three or four.
Shacharis, Musaf, Mincha, Maariv… and Musaf - but we don’t say Musaf every day in
camp, we only say three.” I had been trying to lead her to realize that tefilah is not just
what you say in the siddur, to ultimately help her realize she could even praise, beg, or
thank Hashem on her own, but she was not quite getting it. I returned to some of the
answers she had provided previously to help her.

Me: Here's a question though… when we bentch is that considered davening?

What do you think? What about after we go to the bathroom and say “asher
yatzar”?
Student: Technically they don't call that a davening time, but I guess it could be,
because we're still thanking Hashem at that time… So there are five davening
times then… or a whole group of them..

Me:What did we say davening is?

 Student: Prayer.

Me: And what was prayer??

Student: Thanking and praising Hashem and asking Him for things.

Me: Good, any time we thank, praise, or ask something of Hashem!

Student: Ok so, technically, we daven a lot more than three times a day!

Me: Is there ever a time it's not a bracha or bentching or anything but you on your
own praise or thank or request something of Hashem?
Student: When you say Tehillim and stuff, usually, that's at home on your own,
not necessarily at school or with a group...

Me: Did you ever think maybe you can pray to Hashem in english? Like not
through a formal/official “bracha” or “tefilah” that comes out of a Tehillim or
siddur?
Student: Well, yeah, like if you’re in a rush and don’t have time to say the whole
thing, instead you can say “Please, Hashem, for this or please, Hashem, for
that.”

Me: Let’s say you would get into a fight with a friend in your class and you don’t
know what you did wrong and you really want to fix it. What could you maybe say
to Hashem in that situation? Meaning, it’s not that you’re in a rush or anything,
you just have a situation where you could really use Hashem’s help!
Student: Oh, ok maybe I could say like “Hashem, I don’t really know what I did
wrong and can you help make it better?”

From there, we got into a great discussion about how we can really talk to Hashem at
any time, even with our own words and any time of day, and that’s “tefilah”, too!
 Our study of the significance of a person’s cognition in the process of learning
demands we explore which mental representations played a role in the students’
answers in these three interviews. What I noticed first upon reflection was that I don’t
think the two younger interviewees, my nieces, have been too exposed to people talking
about “asking Hashem for help” or “turning to Hashem in times of need” or saying
“Baruch Hashem”, etc. They have great parents who are committed and observant
Jews, but are honestly not the type to “have God on their lips”, so to speak.
Furthermore, their friends do not come from families where it would be likely for them to
hear about talking to Hashem throughout the day. I think my nieces’ perception of tefilah
at the start of the interviews had been framed from what tefilah was at school each
morning or in shul on Shabbos, the recitation of certain blessings and songs, not from a
baal emunah who genuinely calls out to God or speaks about His involvement in our
lives on a daily basis. The fifth grader is a very bright and deep girl, but I think she just
had never been exposed to the kind of understanding about God as accessible to us
and who we can talk to on our own terms whenever we feel compelled to do so. Her
schema, framed by her experience and the people in her life who serve as her primary
educators and role models, held her back from thinking about tefilah in this kind of way
until I led her to a deeper and wider understanding.

The first grader I interviewed knew that Hashem spoke to the Jewish people
many years ago, as she discovered from learning the weekly parsha either at school or
at home. She also knew that nowadays we do not hear Hashem talking to us (at least
not literally). From this mental model, she assumed that if God doesn’t talk to us, we
can’t really talk to Him. I pushed her and asked her if it’s possible that Hashem does not
talk to us, but still hears when we talk to Him. She really had a look of surprise on her
face, like she had never considered such a possibility, but suddenly it all made sense.
She still was not entirely convinced, but she was getting there, so I said “Well, then why
would you have davening at school? We discussed how your class isn’t just saying
words for no reason or singing songs because they sound nice, right? What are you
doing when you daven at school, you’re talking to….?” “To Hashem!” “Ok, so if you’re
talking to Hashem… it must be it’s because we believe He’s listening, right?”
Interestingly, I found that the 11th grader used case-based reasoning in every
one of her answers. She would think of a particular instance or environment of tefilah or
a specific example from her life and only after sharing it would she then arrive
confidently at her answer to the question I had asked.

One example:

Me: If Hashem knows what we're thinking, why talk to Him?

Student: I went to Bais Yaakov and you daven because you have to daven, you
daven to Hashem. Then I got to high school, I don't think I davened once.
Davening was a perfect time to go to sleep. I’d put my feet on the chair and go to
sleep, but then I reached the point in my life where, like, nothing was working out
and I needed to talk to God. When I got to the point where i had no one else kind
of to rely on, the only person I actually felt I could kind of talk to was God, like I
can't do this myself, because I was at a low point in life and I really needed it.
Now when i talk to Him it's like putting it into words, well for example, last week I
was on a shabbaton and i was really upset about something and my friend knew
I was upset, but I still told her about it with words, it likes adds a new dynamic.

Another example:
Me: What is tefilah? What does it mean?
Student: Davening technically the definition is like, I don’t know, a pathway to
God, like you’re talking to Him, but for me, personally, I feel like when I’m saying
words, I don’t have such a connection to it, except for brachos, like “Elokay
neshama” I’m like “woah, this actually has a lot of meaning” or certain brachos I
relate to more, so I’ll relate to that. And then, the only thing else I really relate to
in davening where I really want to daven and use the words the Rabbanim gave
 us is in Shemoneh Esrei for me, I love Shemoneh Esrei. A lot of times I’ll daven
to God not using the siddur, just using my brain, like if I’m in a bad mood I’m like
“Hashem, I need help” - davening is to me a way to connect to God. I don’t
always use the siddur, though.

When I stopped to think about which features of learning explored in our class
were relevant to the interview learning data, what was noticeable to me first were the
zone of proximal development, misconceptions, the social nature of learning, and
motivation. The zone of proximal development is an area of learning where the teacher
or a peer with a knowledge base or skill set beyond the learner assists him so that he
can advance in that subject or skill set in a way he is incapable of advancing on his
own. The goal ultimately is for the learner to no longer need that extra support, but to
complete the set on his own. ​I had to take advantage of the zone of proximal
development feature somewhat in all of my interviews, but I think it really came most
into play while interviewing the youngest of the bunch, my niece in first grade. All I had
asked her so far was if she davened, to which she replied “yes” (primarily in school),
and already the next question, “What is davening? What does it mean?”, I received a
complete look of concern and confusion, an innocent shrug and “No idea!” Without my
leading and prompting, I would not have been able to continue the interview. At her
young age with limited experience with tefilah, as well as limited knowledge of tefilah or,
moreover, of philosophy or theology, she truly could not go further on her own. I had to
feed her questions and provide leads that sparked her mind to further comprehend the
subject at hand.
My 11th grade interviewee seemed to have a strong handle already on the
concepts about which I had planned to probe her, but I did notice when she mentioned
a certain idea I identified as a misconception.
 Me: What are other ways a person can “do” tefilah without it being the formal
shacharis, mincha, maariv?
Student: I always daven at kumsitzes when we’re singing a song, when you’re
sitting with a bunch of people at a kumsitz, I once learned - I don’t remember
where - that that tefilah goes straight to Hashem. When we’re saying, let’s say,
“vehaer eineinu”, the words are so stunning, I want to daven that for myself, I’ll
have kavana with those words as I say them AND I’ll just take a pause from
saying the words and just whisper my own davening to Hashem. Or let’s say if
I’m upset about something and I’m crying, I’ll just use that crying through the
emotion as an opportunity to daven to Hashem.

Me: Love it, tears open the gates of tefilah! But, does that mean like if it’s not a
kumsitz or big emotional moment, it’s just a regular davening in school or
something, that your tefillos DON’T go straight to Hashem? What do you mean?
Student: No, I think my tefillos go straight to Hashem even when it’s a regular
davening in school, like I KNOW that, I’ve learnt that or whatever in school, but I
FEEL it more when I’m at a kumsitz or crying or something. 

The student had “once learned” that a tefilah said at a kumsitz goes straight up to
God. I was unsure, upon hearing this, if a legitimate Torah source, indeed, said
something along those lines. Nonetheless, I was concerned, perhaps, the student may
view certain settings as those where God hears her prayers more than other settings.
As we continued to break down her responses and discuss the idea further, she clarified
for herself that it was not that God is different in those different settings, that He
receives the tefillos in one setting in a greater way than He does elsewhere. He is the
same God who can access ​all​ of our tefillos - in any language, wherever we say them,
whether we speak articulately or not. He knows all! What the student was able to clarify
was that it was not kumsitz or God that made the difference, but rather ​she​ was different
in that certain setting and so she felt that while praying with more kavanah in that
certain context, that prayer is absorbed somehow in the upper worlds in a way it cannot
be during the davening period at her high school.
I had been planning on interviewing two high school students after interviewing
my oldest niece, who is in fifth grade, but my sister had already mentioned to my niece
in first grade that I may need to interview her for my assignment. Upon completing the
interview with her older sister, my sister got onto the Facetime call and whispered to me
that my younger niece started crying when she found out I didn’t need her anymore,
because she had been all excited to do it and, furthermore, her older sister (who she
happens to look up to and often tries to model herself after) had just completed her
interview with me. I am sure that had I not done the interview with her older sister, she
would not have been so distraught that I had said I no longer needed her. It was quite
apparently the social nature of learning that got her excited to go through the questions
and essentially discover new content she had not understood before with me. In the
end, I interviewed her just to make her feel special and valued, and actually found her
first grade innocent perspective so sweet and eye-opening that I decided to actually
include my interview with her as one of my three!
Seeing my niece wanting so much to connect to me in the same way her sister
did reiterates in my mind how some students may be uninterested and not pay attention
or thrive in a typical class setting, but when split into groups and given the opportunity to
collaborate with other students, those same students may thrive in their learning like
never before, just from the excitement of getting to be “a part of it.”
I think all three students were situationally motivated to give the interview their all
because of my relationship with them. I am very close with my two nieces and they look
up to me, so to be “chosen” to help me with my final project was exciting for them. They
felt special and enthused to be part of it, but were not nervous to give me answers,
because I’m not some random stranger interviewing them or even someone they know
from around their community, I’m their aunt! We Facetime all of the time, so this was
just another Facetime call, but with elevated conversation where they really knew their
answers mattered to me. The third interviewee is an NCSYer of mine who I also have a
very close relationship with, but more than a friendship, I am a like a “big sister” and
mentor to her. She, too, was able to feel comfortable, but also motivated to give the
interview her all. She also has come a long way on her own religious journey and has
experienced what it’s like to pray out of rote, because school demands it and parents
expect it. Having reached a point in her life where, after experiencing some ups and
downs, she began to connect to Hashem through tefilah from the heart, through tears,
in a real way that was not at all about mere habit, but rather about forging and
maintaining a relationship, she was passionate about the topic at hand and genuinely
wanted to “make her truth heard,” a truth she feels she was denied for years growing up
without understanding the deeper meaning and goal of tefilah.
After completing my interviews, I felt schools would do well to incorporate
project-based learning into their tefilah periods or classes. Perhaps, students can sign
up in pairs to explore a particular tefilah in the siddur and one such pair presents a
summary of what they have learned to the rest of the class each week. Resources
would need to be provided that would help students see for themselves how the words
in the siddur are meaningful not only because they come from holy authors, but
because they connect to the ups and downs and ins and outs of our own lives. The
class can compile a huge master class siddur, made up of the pages each pair had
designed and illustrated according to what they discovered while doing the project. As
the students daven, the teacher or chazzan can turn the page of the big siddur and
students can look up at the inspiration on the page, an expression from their own
classmates of the words they are praying. Upon the master siddur’s completion, the
teacher can have it minimized and give each student a copy to use in school or to take
home.