It is said that the most stressful events in life are bereavement, house-buying and divorce. For Jewish families, at a time when antisemitic incidents in classrooms are double pre-2023 levels, we could add a fourth event: the allocation of secondary school places.
While many were overjoyed when the placements were announced on March 6, many others were thrown into turmoil as demand far outstrips supply for a community that, more than ever, feels the need to stand together and protect its children’s safety and wellbeing.
First-choice applications for JFS and JCoSS rose this year, with more than three applicants for every place at the latter and more than two at the former. Hundreds remain on the waiting lists for both, and the almost-closure of Immanuel College threatened to add still more anxious families to that pool.
One Jewish mother I know had put a Jewish secondary first, having carefully selected all six schools on her son’s list to ensure that he would be safe from the antisemitic bullying currently being investigated by the report Bridget Phillipson launched in March, only to be allocated none of them.
That the school they were assigned had not been on the family’s radar was because it did not perform well academically. But the mother would soon learn that no local Jewish family sent their children there. And when she started to research the school’s culture and attitudes towards Jews, she unearthed accounts of swastikas drawn onto furniture, Nazi salutes and a culture of pro-Palestine politics in which pupils demanded what “side” their peers were on.
When she dutifully went to view the school, as recommended by her child’s primary, she instinctively concealed her Magen David necklace.
She was also told by a recently departed pupil that, so long as her son kept his head down and dared not reveal his identity, all would be fine. But nobody wants to subject their child to life as a shadow. And at this formative stage, children should be developing their identity and letting it grow along with the rest of them. Or should we say: so long as it’s not a Jewish or Zionist identity?
What started as one mother’s anxiety about a school’s academic suitability for her child became a much deeper fear – and panic over whether a Jewish school would make them an offer.
It is true that there is movement as families take places at private or grammar schools, or relocate, and this mother was one of the lucky few to be offered, eventually, a second-round lottery place at her son’s first choice. But the stress of those interim weeks, spent hoping for an offer and planning for an appeal, is not to be underestimated, and all while managing the anxiety of your child as they are surrounded by classmates already scouting out their new uniforms.
Where parents have failed to obtain a place at a Jewish school – or one known for having a significant Jewish cohort – they have reached out among their networks to arrange playdates with other Jewish children to ensure they won’t be alone.
And there are plenty still waiting in hope. Another mother who had JFS and JCoSS as her child’s two top choices told me she feels “really ill” from the stress. She lamented the unfairness of the system, in which some get their first choice and others, such as she, are unlucky.
“I’ve barely eaten, slept or worked in three weeks,” she said. “I can’t go for several more weeks of waiting. Antisemitism is through the roof. Every one of the children on the waiting list should get a Jewish education if they want one.”
In the wake of a barrage of violence against the Jewish community – the stabbings of Jews in daytime Golders Green, Hatzola ambulances being blown up, and arson attacks on Finchley Reform Synagogue and Kenton United Synagogue – it is entirely understandable that parents are concerned for the safety of their children. Nobody should have to compromise their identity.
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