The summer holiday is behind us and the school year is ahead. A moment after the self-pity for having spent the summer with our children in the scorching Israeli heat, public opinion is vacant to focus on the upsetting education system.
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Why are teachers striking? How come the children go to school and don't know how to behave? What happened to values? Certainly in Europe, they know how to handle it properly. In Estonia, for instance.
I joined an Israeli delegation of heads of colleges that traveled all the way to the capital Tallinn to bring you the bottom line: Yes, Israel has what to learn from Estonia.
One Saturday evening I received a WhatsApp message from a leading professor who asked to speak with me. I assumed he wanted to publish an article on the Israel Hayom website so postponed the talk until the morning. The next day at the appointed time I called him, and he actually invited me to join the delegation.
Professor Haim Shaked said the delegation looked at education models in Israel and worldwide and decided to look into Estonia's success.
Estonia... I thought to myself while listening to the intelligent explanation. Isn't that the Baltic country that sends mediocre songs to the Eurovision Song Contest? But the professor explained that Tallinn was considered the education capital of the world and that the delegation was headed there to check, among other things, how its institutions operated and got to the lead in the OECD's Program for International Student Assessment, surpassing Finland.
I didn't have time to ask who else was joining. A quick Google search made it clear to me that Estonia has indeed been branded in recent years as holding the key to advanced education in the world. I booked my trip and began to wonder about the potential of this very young country. In my head, I dubbed the capital Digitallinn – because most of the mentions of it in articles written in Israel in recent years glorified the digitization and progress that brought Estonia to this educational lead.
When talking about Tallinn, they praise the freedom of choice that students have, who already at the age of 14 can choose a practical professional path and learn hair styling, hotel management, or graphic design, and at the end of the training, launch a business at a click of a button.
The more I prepared for the trip and was exposed to zero bureaucracy, the more I imagined Estonia as having public spaces with free Wi-Fi, equal education based on virtual learning, classrooms with elaborate 3D presentations with voice-activated screens descending from the ceiling, and everything from Israel seemed outdated.
Imagination and reality collided on the first day of the journey at Tallinn University. It was full of old and wide radiators attached to the walls, decorating the corridors in Soviet-style and making it clear that this was an old building. In the classroom itself, a 40-year-old researcher began lecturing on education in Tallinn, and when I looked for a socket to charge my laptop – a simple connection to electricity that is easy to find in any college in Israel - I discovered that the advanced university of Estonia did not have such a basic necessity.
Internet connection was also limited. In fact, the only progressive marker that stood out during her talk was the lecturer's ability to control who entered the classroom while she was speaking. When the class starts, the lecturer locks the door, and good luck to those who are late. When I went to the bathroom after half an hour, I couldn't re-enter the classroom, so I stood in the corridor until another lecturer opened the door with his secret card, which contained a chip for the privileged only.
This element expresses the symbolic foundation, which in retrospect is one of the secrets, and perhaps even the basis, for the success of Estonian education – discipline, authority, and respect for the teacher. If the lesson is a revolving door – yes, including at university – there will be no achievements.
I sat in class and thought: A teacher can prepare a wonderful lesson, and we, as young students or as mature students, may ruin the lecture just because we went outside to talk on the phone and disturbed the concentration of our colleagues, or because we went to get tissues from the bathroom and half the class flowed outside after us as part of the atmosphere of freedom.
When the very presence of the student in the class becomes a serious matter, when you can't be distracted and go back as if nothing happened because there is discipline and a "smart card" that enforces it – the attitude becomes more serious and you are forced to respect the framework and study.
The vast majority of children in Tallinn benefit from subsidized school classes. Art, music, and technology are integrated into the daily schedule. The regional school even has a pool, and it's not even a private institution.
The delegation, made up of lecturers and senior researchers in the field of education who belong to diverse geographical and social areas of Israeli society, and who also care about teachers, students, and academia, were bombarded with questions. But first of all, Estonians wanted to know the basics: how much a teacher in Israel gets paid.
To compare, the average salary in Estonia is about 1,300 euros a month and a teacher earns about 1,800 euros a month. In Israel, the average salary is 11,700 shekels and a teacher earns an average salary of NIS 14,000. In other words: their teacher's salary is 40% higher than the average, ours is only 20%. Is that what makes the difference?
"There is a demand and prestige for the profession, also due to the status and not only due to the salary," Shaked, who is president of the Hemdat College of Education in Sdot Negev, said. "Education is a field based on human capital. We heard about a program here to teach history in high school, there were only 30 places and 2,000 applicants.
"In Israel, on the other hand, there is a shortage of teachers because there is a decline in the value of learning and knowledge in Israeli society, and the value of the teaching profession has declined. In the past, Jews gave their lives so that children could learn under the most difficult conditions, and today Israeli parents say that if the child does not go to school, it is no big deal. Here the status of the teacher allows investment and application of innovative teaching methods."
Q: Such as?
"The number of students is limited in the class, focusing on a small number of areas of knowledge. In Israel, on the other hand, we have 15-17 compulsory subjects for matriculation, and in Estonia, there are only three main exams."
Shaked continued, "There used to be a model that a student needed a little bit of geography, a little bit of history, and in religious education a little bit of the weekly Torah portion, Jewish law, and the prophets. But this grew into a list of endless subjects that the student had to learn out of the illusion that the child would take all the bits of learning and turn them into knowledge coherent to life.
"Today we know that you need a lot of language classes and a lot of math, and not to take a little, a little and a little. In Estonia, they realized that the more you study, and not the more tests you take, the more educated and intelligent you will be. And this is the right way to develop."
Q: Then why doesn't Israel adopt this?
"Israel still has the attitude that what is not tested is not learned. If there is no exam in history, history will not be learned, and so on. With us, even subjects with an internal grade are not taken seriously – and not only by the students."
The language of survival
By the way, language and nationality - a recurring motif that most of the educators we met dwelled on – are interconnected in a new law promoted by the Estonian government to strengthen the Estonian language. Studies in Russian will be banned, and as a result, about 2,000 teachers will be laid off.
In this law, most Estonians see their survival.
"There is already a regulation that schools where lessons are taught in Russian, do not receive funding from the state, but studies conducted by the government have shown that this is not enough," said Kätlin Vanari, an education expert and lecturer at Tallinn University. "The law that states that those who do not speak Estonian do not receive citizenship is not deterring enough".
Q: Why resist Russian culture in the education system?
"It was only in 1991, exactly 32 years ago, that we managed to break away from the Soviet Union and gain independence. We suffered from the Soviet occupation for years. In the world, we – the Baltic states – are used to being associated with the Soviet Union, but we are more like Finland. The sound of our language is also more like Finnish. The fact that still a quarter of those who live here speak only Russian harms our national growth."
Q: But then students who speak Russian might feel like second-class citizens.
"In their free time, they can speak Russian. The focus during the course will not be on being Russian but on glorifying Estonia."
Q: Is the Education Ministry not worried that Russian speakers may create their own independent education system?
"No, it's no longer legal. They won't be able to do that. Estonian is the national language. Russian children and their families live here, and they must speak the language. The law passed the government unanimously. It has no opponents."
Q: What about Jews in Estonia? What language do they speak?
"Russian. That's known."
When asked whether Russian speakers demonstrated in the streets against the government's decision, Vanari could not comprehend how such demonstrations could even take place.
The government's decision stems from the war in Ukraine and the fear of brainwashing by Russian-speaking media. The Estonian post-trauma from the possibility of being invaded again sets the tone in the education system as well.
Professor Yael Tamir, president of Beit Berl College, offered a wider perspective.
"Estonia managed to rise up and become one of the most developed countries in Europe in a relatively short period of time – to build a free, high-quality, and functioning education system thanks to the deep commitment to its identity," Tamir said. "The mobilization to succeed and the leadership in the PISA tests are a significant expression of this and are intended to prove that autonomy pays off. They focus on preserving language and identity, and they do that in Israel as well."
Q: Specifically now?
"It didn't just start now. As part of the Soviet occupation, citizens were forcibly transferred here to make them Russian. The wound has been burning for years. People who live here feel that a school that teaches Russian is a success of the Russian army from the 1940s.
"They think that Russia's ambition and what is happening in Ukraine reflect an aspiration to return to this part of the world. Therefore, in their eyes, any Russian cultural hold is dangerous. This is not a debate about borders and it is not a debate that is over. Imagine that the people of a country who want to speak Russian are the people who are closest to Russia, and in ten years, will the Russians say, 'This is part of Russia' and want to annex them?"
Q: Isn't it better to launch a national birth campaign instead of banning Russian?
"They tried it once, but it didn't work," Tamir said. "And most families here have only one child."
A member of the Israeli delegation, Professor Faisal Azaiza, dean of faculty for Social Welfare and Health Sciences at the University of Haifa, offered an interesting proposition to solve Israel's shortage of teachers by tapping into the Arab sector.
"There is a surplus of teachers in the Arab population, there is a shortage in the Jewish population. Strategically, it is worthwhile and important to absorb Arab teachers in Jewish schools. This will improve relations between the sectors and create a partnership."
Sharp pencils
Eve Eisenschmidt is a Professor of Educational Leadership at Tallinn University. She said that "part of the motivation comes from the absolute autonomy that the Education Ministry gives to school principals. There is no hypermanagement. Such trust in the educators brings motivation. If it wasn't like that, teachers would leave."
She said that if for instance, a teacher doesn't feel that a certain method works with the students, he or she can choose an alternative that would work better for students to acquire knowledge in a certain field, including lessons outside of school premises or even classes online.
Eisenschmidt stressed that discipline and rules are maintained even in Zoom classes. A school that doesn't put more than 24 students in one class on average, and allows learning from home once a week, is certainly a more pleasant environment.
Most of the children, around 90%, in Tallinn also participate in extracurricular activities provided by the school. Art, music, and technology are integrated into the schedule, between 3 and 4:30 p.m. every day. The classes are part of the municipal services, and they are conducted professionally and seriously.
I also could not help but notice that despite the presence of hundreds of children, the atmosphere is quiet and unchaotic.
After Estonia, the delegation visited Finland – a mere two hours away by ferry – the country that used to lead the PISA chart before Estonia took over.
The international school in the capital Helsinki operates in a method that has also reached Israel - the international schools in Givat Haviva and Hakfar Hayarok. The studies are conducted in English, the subjects are varied, and there is an emphasis on nurturing the students and the environment.
The principal of the Helsinki School, Kathleen Naglee, is an American originally from Hungary who came on an educational mission to Estonia about a decade ago and from there moved to Finland. She welcomed us with excitement saying she was Jewish and her grandmother was a Holocaust survivor.
Naglee defined the Estonian engine for success by bringing an example from real life.
"On a school family trip, the students were picking blueberries. One of the children accidentally dropped his basket, and the fruit scattered. As an American, I went over to help him pick it up from the ground and comforted him, but the Estonian parents looked and said, 'He dropped it and he will pick it up, it's his responsibility.' The parents are not afraid to pose challenges."
It seems to me that this was the moment when I finally understood that the educational prosperity of Estonia does not stem from its geographical proximity to Finland, but rather from proximity to Sovietization. Those who had the privilege of receiving a Soviet education must recognize the pattern. Estonians received a Soviet education, but they chose to perceive themselves as "Finland's little sister."
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The school in Helsinki is beautiful, bright, and rich. In the cafeteria, which is on a kind of massive patio in the center of the building, a motto is engraved on the wall: "Each of us is a special snowflake." A snowflake is also part of the school symbol that can be seen in almost every classroom and hallway.
Sigrid Kagi was a member of the Estonian delegation that held a special hackathon for educators from Israel. She launched a line of quality after-school programs operated by educators and intended for all levels, including in the summer.
"First you need to understand the mentality," she said. "In Estonia, the summer vacation is seen as a relaxed family time of fun, but also as an ideal period for enriching the student's knowledge. Most children don't want to waste time.
"During the first part of the vacation, the schools run a special curriculum with professional educational teams. There are also summer camps operated by a variety of organizations. These are concept camps: each camp has a theme, those who guide the camps are professionals in the field of the subject taught, and the emphasis is on education and imparting different life skills.
"In addition, during the summer students complete a reading list that was given to them at the end of the academic year. Some of the lists are regular reading books and some are books that prepare for the study material of the new school year."
Q: And is there no resistance to this? Do the children really read everything on the list?
"We make sure to give the student a choice. He or she doesn't have to read all the books but can choose what to focus on from the entire list. Some schools define the reading list as non-obligatory, which adds to the child's motivation."
Choice is an important element in education in Estonia. We saw that in many aspects, they let the child decide what he or she preferred. But what all these choices had in common is that the child was not inventing anything, but rather choosing from several options provided.
Having visited various educational institutions in Estonia over the span of five days, what did I learn?
That education begins at home.
True, there is progress in this country with regard to bureaucracy, no one waits in line anywhere, and cell phones are a tool for efficiency and not for wasting time.
But Estonia excels because it is strict about discipline, because its standards are high, and because the children grow up in a society where there is respect for authority. Perhaps in such a society, the generation of screens can accomplish magnificent achievements.
