I wrote this piece hoping to publish it on one of the platforms widely read by the Jewish public. And then I realized that in my pursuit of a good teaching job in one of the well known institutions, hopefully next year, I may be hurting my own chances with this publication. This is sad, but it is the reality of our times. So I am putting it here, in my safe space:

For more than seven years, I worked at a major national Jewish nonprofit while quietly hoping for a different future. By day, I was in operations and management; by dawn, lunch break, and late night, I was studying Jewish texts, building knowledge, and imagining a life in Jewish education. I tried more than once to make that transition. Each time, I was met with silence.

Then COVID hit, I lost my job, and the question became unavoidable: why is it so hard for experienced, serious, later-in-life learners to enter Jewish education?

My experience is not unusual. Jewish education is facing a real teacher shortage, with shortages of educators and low pay contributing to a system under strain. And yet the path into the field remains narrow, credential-heavy, and inhospitable to people whose expertise was built outside the usual pipeline. As a Jewish community, we should be doing more to welcome adults who bring real-world experience, deep commitment, and hard-earned wisdom into our classrooms and institutions.[ejewishphilanthropy]

That need is urgent. Jewish schools are grappling with teacher shortages, burnout, and low pay. At the same time, communal leaders are calling for renewed investment in Jewish education as central to Jewish continuity. Dan Senor has argued that the future of American Jewish life depends on putting education at the center of communal priorities, and on redirecting serious philanthropic support toward schools, camps, and learning. If Jewish education is our lifeline, we should fund it like one.[ccsfundraising]

I know what reinvention costs. I have changed careers more than once, across cities and countries, and learned to start over when necessary. My first job was teaching. I hoped my last one might be, too.

The field I now want to enter — adult Jewish education — should be a natural home for people like me. For years, I assumed that if I kept learning and kept building expertise, the Jewish world would eventually make room for me as a teacher. I also assumed it would value people who come to teaching through lived experience, not only through academic credentials. Reality proved otherwise.

While I was still working at the nonprofit, I kept studying whenever I could. When I began exploring a transition, I received polite nods, but firm declines. Then COVID arrived, and like so many others, I lost my job. In that forced pause, I became a full-time learner. The more I studied, the clearer it became that there are many adults with real knowledge, teaching instincts, and a desire to serve — but no entry point into the classroom.[jewishfederations]

That is not just a personal frustration. It is a communal loss.

Older Jewish adults are not a marginal population. Jewish Federations found that many adults ages 55 to 74 seek deeper engagement, and that 50% say they are not being engaged by their Jewish community. Another federated study found that the “Surge” in post-October 7 Jewish engagement continues, with midlife adults making up a large share of those seeking more connection. That makes sense: when Jewish identity feels newly urgent, people want to contribute in meaningful ways. Some turn to advocacy, some to service, some to teaching.[jewishfederations]

But the gates remain too narrow.

Too often, Jewish institutions confuse pedigree with promise. They privilege linear careers over braided ones, degrees over demonstrated knowledge, and insider networks over open hiring. A person may know Torah, history, Hebrew, liturgy, or Jewish philosophy deeply, and still be rejected because they do not have the “right” resume or classroom history. In a field that celebrates lifelong learning, that is a serious contradiction.[casje]

The irony is painful. Jewish life is built around growth, return, and the possibility of beginning again. Yet our professional systems often act as if only the conventional path counts. We tell learners that Judaism welcomes seekers at every stage of life, then shut out experienced adults who arrive later.

We should stop doing that.

Jewish schools, synagogues, JCCs, and adult-learning programs should create real pathways for older adults who are knowledgeable and passionate to teach. That means bridge programs, fellowships, retraining support, living-wage stipends, and hiring practices that value both expertise and formal preparation. It also means recognizing that decades of learning, leadership, and informal teaching may already provide much of what a classroom needs.[ejewishphilanthropy]

This is not charity. It is a strategy. Adult learners often respond powerfully to teachers who bring life experience, not just academic pedigree. Communities benefit when educators can connect Jewish wisdom to the complexity of real life. And the Jewish world cannot afford to waste talented adults who are ready to serve.

For me, wanting to teach is not about status. It is about responsibility. I have spent years learning because I believe Jewish knowledge should be shared, not hoarded. I have seen how powerfully adults respond when a class speaks to their lives. I have seen the hunger for meaning, belonging, and guidance. That hunger is real. So is the talent sitting just outside the door.

The question is not whether people like me belong in Jewish education. The question is why we are still making it so hard for them to enter it.

If the Jewish community is serious about continuity, literacy, and joy, it should open the gates wider — and invest in the people ready to walk through them.[jewishfederations]