By Bob Canter (Monticello, FL)
A retiring teacher says goodbye to his long-time classroom
For years, I have had my personal “Sukkah.” It is a room in my synagogue. It is my Religious School classroom.
Not literally a “sukkah,” and certainly not a kosher one by the rules of how a real sukkah is to be constructed. My special sukkah is permanent, not temporary; no palm fronds or branches cover the ceiling, although I can see the stars by looking out the window. It has four walls, windows, and a door that I can shut and lock if I choose. It was there years before I arrived, and will remain years after I am gone.
Not exactly the kind of temporary structure our ancestors constructed in ancient days, and certainly not one with any kind of agricultural connection.
I do not “own” it, of course –- but then again – I do. I refer to it as “my” classroom, the same as a tenant might say “my apartment,” “my house,” or “my place.” You occupy it, you take care of it; you give it life, personality and purpose. It becomes “yours.”
It is my Sukkat Shalom, סכת שלום a shelter of peace.
Now, as I prepare to retire after 12 years of teaching in my current congregation and nearly 25 years as a Jewish Religious School teacher, I am savoring the last months in my Shelter of Peace. On Religious School days I arrive early – typically 45-60 minutes before class time. There is the obvious reason: To prepare for the day with photocopying and other routine duties. But I also use that time to sit and reflect. I recite the yotzer ohr יוצר אור blessing, which I teach my students, thanking God for a new day of life.
I am surrounded by, and immersed in, all things Jewish: Hebrew alef-bet charts and an Israeli flag adorn the walls. My classroom is packed with memories: photos, kids’ drawings, thank you notes and holiday cards my students made and proudly gave to me. Each one is a special memory and a humbling experience. I keep them all.
For me, my classroom is unique – there is literally no other place like it, nowhere else that can provide that level of comfort, peace, and serenity in a totally Jewish environment. It is my escape; my mental and physical sanctuary; a refuge of solitude.
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On Yom Kippur we take a service break in the afternoon. During this time our synagogue arranges discussion groups. I have attended some in the past, but in recent years I have chosen to spend the service break time, typically 90 minutes, in my classroom, to sit, relax, and reflect on the meaning of the day. It renews me, physically as well as spiritually. I emerge stronger, ready for the afternoon, neilah, and concluding services, refreshed and renewed, perhaps, at least part, of what Yom Kippur represents.
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No teacher literally “owns” his or her classroom. We are tenants. The “tenancy” may last one year or thirty, but inevitably it ends.
Now, after twelve years as a Religious School teacher, all in the same room, I have elected not to renew my “lease.” I’m moving on, and will clean out so the room will be ready for my successor, the next “tenant.” Some of the objects that provided me with so much warmth and reassurance, such as the Hebrew alef-bet charts, books, and maps of Israel, will remain, hopefully to provide my successor with the same sense of purpose and security that I found in that special room.
Of the many relics, the most valuable and meaningful to me is a simple handwritten sign, one that I made years ago when I first started as a synagogue Religious School teacher, a famous saying from the Pirkei Avot: “As you teach, you learn.” I took that statement to heart from the first day I read it, and I live by it every day. We never stop learning, and my students have been my best teachers.
I did not build it, but together with my students we infused that special classroom with an abundance of life and personality. My classroom is a center of Jewish learning, teaching, fun and connection with kids and their families; my “Laboratory of Jewish Learning,” where I worked to instill and reinforce a sense of pride in my students’ Jewish identity, will ensure in a small way, I hope, the emergence of the next Jewish generation.
The adornments are important, but it is the people – plural – all of us, together, בּיחד — that bring life and meaning to the Jewish classroom.
May every teacher find his or her classroom as a Sukkat Shalom, a true Shelter of Peace.
Bob Canter retired in May, 2026 after 25 years as a synagogue religious school teacher, first at Congregation B’nai Tikvah in Walnut Creek, CA, and the last 12 years at Temple Israel in Tallahassee, FL. Bob and his wife live in Monticello, FL, where he serves on the City Planning Commission and substitutes in the Jefferson County Schools. He remains an active member of Temple Israel, including serving as President of the Temple Brotherhood.
You can read more of his work here: Hebrew: The Metric System of Languages — Transparent Language.com ; For Once, I Didn’t Feel Like a Minority:; and on My Jewish Learning, where he’s written a variety of essays on Jewish life in the South and on lessons that he learned in his religious school classroom.
