The Road To Survival SAMUEL HEILMAN SPECIAL TO THE JEWISH NEWS ecently my wife and I went through the tough decision of buying a new car. We last went through what for us, as for most Americans, is the second largest purchase (after their home) in life 10 years ago. We have four children, and most cars sold these days are oriented to smaller families. But size wasn't our only concern. Even more important were cost and safe- uW. ty. Finally, our choice came down to two vehicles. Both were large enough, but one has ad- ditional safety features. This car, a Volvo, was a model we al- ready owned, and we trusted it to serve us in the future. But the Volvo was much more expensive than the other choice. For weeks, we agonized over the decision. Where would the extra money come from? Did we really need these extra features? Could our scarce re- sources be better used for oth- er needs? At last, my wife made what was the key contribution to our decision. We put all that was precious to us into that car: our children, those we care about, our future. Should we, could we, skimp on protecting them? The answer was obvious. Although the choice pressed us financial- ly, we bought the car. I've been thinking about this decision a lot recently as I pay my other big bills. In a way, my car considerations parallel an- other decision we've also made about survival and preserving our future. This second decision deals not with physical survival, but with cultural and spiritu- al survival, with my children's and my Jewish future. It con- fronts me with the same ques- tions I considered before buying the car: Where will the extra money come from? Do we real- ly need these extra features? Could our scarce resources be better used for other needs? This decision concerned the sort of Jewish education to pro- vide our children. Unlike car buying, this is a choice I make anew each year, not one in 10. And each year, it's no easier to make. The options are clear. I could take the route of most American Jews and provide my children with no Jewish educa- tion. (After all, of 859,000 chil- dren under the age of 18 in the core Jewish population, only 400,000 were in the Jewish ed- ucational system at the end of the 1980s.) This was certainly the least expensive approach since it would let me use the fine public schools in my sub- urb, while saving for the college education I want my children to have. Very tempting, but surely a choice that would jeopardize the Jewish future. For with no Jew- ish education, my children are far more likely than not to dis- appear into the great American society, so open and so attrac- tive and so far from what is dis- tinctively Jewish. No Jewish survival there. Alternately, I could select what appeals to most of those who opt for Jewish education in America: a supplementary af- ternoon school, probably one that meets once or twice a week, with a teacher who knows something, but not a great deal about Judaism and with stu- dents who neither understand why they must get this educa- tion nor care to receive it. Although still the single largest Jewish educational re- source for Americans, supple- mentary schools (which now have about 270,000 students and serve about 60 percent of the Jewish school population) are a fairly painless choice. Their classes are often small, the time demands minimal and the curriculum limited. Yet, this choice also does not assure Jewish survival. It offers some safety features, but not enough to withstand the major crush of American life. Indeed, as several re- searchers have noted, supple- mentary Jewish education, unless accompanied by en- hanced Jewish activity in the family and correlated involve- ment in synagogue, summer camp and some level of Jewish ritual participation, turns out to be of little protective or ped- agogic value. It's like the car I didn't select. That left me with full-time intensive Jewish education: day schools, the choice of about one- third of those in the Jewish ed- ucational system. But day school education is enormously expensive, like my Volvo. Prices range from about $3,500 per student to over $10,000 de- pending on community location. It would require a huge com- mitment since I have four chil- dren. Could I afford it? The answer, as with my car, was: Could I afford not to make this choice? We chose the day school, believing that in spite of its extra cost, this kind of in- tensive education is what would best preserve my children's Jewishness. Would I regret the extra money I spent on giving them the fullest possible exposure to — and understanding of—Ju- daism? Or would I save the money now — and later be like so many who tell me they wish they'd given their children a bet- ter understanding of Jewish heritage so their children might not have eventually abandoned their Jewish identity? So I have spent more for a safe car — and more for Jew- ish education, both of which I trust will preserve my Jewish children. It might not work. My Volvo is not indestructible; it could be a lemon. There are wild drivers around and slip- pery roads. Likewise, day school educa- tion does not guarantee my chil- dren will not intermarry or that they will always remain com- mitted to Judaism and their Jewish identity. But I am ready to take that extra measure, even if it places a burden on me. Still, when the end of the month and bill-paying time ar- rives, I cannot help but wish that safe cars were less expen- sive (as they should be) and that good Jewish education was within the reach of everyone (as it should be). While day schools and yeshivas now have more students than ever (about 130,000), their rising costs have made many of them sink under the weight of their own success. We should not have to break the bank to save ourselves and our people. ❑ Samuel Heilman is a professor of Jewish studies and sociology at the Graduate Center of the City University of New York.