Returning to Routine – a Familiar Illusion
The end of August in Israel always brings the same headlines: budgets, teacher shortages, overcrowded classrooms. All wrapped in the familiar phrase, “back to routine.” Israelis are addicted to routine, as if returning to it guarantees normalcy. But for 77 years, Israel has never known true normalcy. This year, a new headline has been added: protection. Because here, protection is a basic condition for maintaining routine.
When Routine Isn’t Enough
The headlines may look the same, but reality has changed. After two years of trauma and disruption, children are rushing back to school. For Israel’s 2.5 million students, school is not a burden but the closest thing to normal. Shelters are vital—they provide not only physical safety but also the framework for routine during danger. The very ability to keep going despite external threats is a daily victory. But routine is not normalcy, and the data show how far children’s reality is from any sense of normal: nearly a third of teenagers struggle with concentration, one in five suffers from anxiety or depression, and about 20% need professional emotional support they do not receive. These are not fringe cases; this is the classroom reality. True stability, therefore, cannot rely on routine alone. What the headlines miss is that in today’s Israel, stability has a name: the teacher.
The Erosion of the Teacher’s Status
Precisely when they are needed most, the education system suffers from a severe teacher shortage. This is not a passing glitch but a long-term trend. Over the past decade, studies have shown a consistent decline in the attractiveness of teaching as a profession. Fewer top students enroll in training programs, dropout rates among young teachers are among the highest in the OECD, and salaries remain below the academic average, while Israeli classrooms are among the most crowded in the developed world. Teaching cannot be viewed as a fallback career. It is an existential mission, but it will remain one only if society restores the profession’s dignity and support.
Language as a Cultural Mirror
The Hebrew language itself tells the story. In English, a teacher is one who imparts knowledge. In Hebrew, moreh comes from hora’ah—to guide, to show the way. In modern usage, mechanech already means someone who shapes personality, upholds values, and serves as a moral compass. In Judaism, the teacher has always stood alongside the parent: the parent gives life, the teacher shows how to live it. The language reflects the Jewish understanding that education is never neutral—it always shapes, always builds a people.
The Classroom as a Shield
In Israel, education is the frontline of the nation’s spirit. Children return carrying invisible burdens—anxiety, loneliness, withdrawal. Resilience, therefore, must be woven into education, not only through support systems but also through leadership. A teacher must go beyond transmitting knowledge: to recognize distress, intervene early, and model strength with compassion. The classroom is no longer just a place of learning; it is a front of emotional and moral defense. And the teacher? The unrecognized architect of cohesion.
Restoring Respect
The war has added its price: some 48,000 students were displaced from their homes, about 1,200 never returned to the classroom, and incidents of youth violence have surged. These are not side effects; they are the reality itself. The picture that emerges is not only of a workforce shortage but of a profession whose status has eroded—seen less as a calling and more as a default.
It is now clear: the teacher crisis is not just a staffing issue but a mirror of Israeli society as a whole. If we continue to see teachers as bureaucrats in a system, the system will collapse under its own weight. If we begin to see them as nation-builders—shapers of resilience, unity, and purpose—we can restore both the dignity of the profession and the strength of the society it sustains. This choice will determine not only the future of education but also the resilience of Israeli society itself.
This article is by Anat Vidor, President of World WIZO