When one of my children was in second grade, the Pressman schedule was a savior - because their sibling had recess and lunch, often, right after and in the same space; which meant that their sibling would come home from school with the water bottle, sweatshirt, toy, or whatever else their sibling had left on the field, on Corning 8, in the ballroom. Recently, it occurred to me that we are now several years out, and that child is incredibly responsible - and often is finding the things left behind by their siblings.

Which has made me think a lot about the skills we want our children to acquire, and what the process of acquiring said skills ought to be –

On my recent trip to Finland, our group entered a seventh grade classroom where students were washing their wool hats and socks, ringing them out, hanging them to dry, and then learning the properties of wool washing. Because when one lives in northern Europe, where the daily temperature is around or below freezing every day from November to March, wearing - and washing - wool is an essential skill.

There are many aspects of the Finnish school system that fascinate me, but I have been thinking a lot about their focus on skill building. Yes, students learn to read (with some of the highest proficiency scores in the world!) and they study math, they all study at least three languages - many do more - and are versed in history and science, but they also are required to cook, work with wood and metal, and take hours of crafts as part of their education. Ultimately, Finland sees it as their mission is to grow kids into self-sufficient adults, and they want to ensure that their adults have the skills to take care of themselves physically in the dark, cold climate.

I often say that Pressman Academy grows the human beings we want to see in the world. Being in Finland felt like home in that regard - a country thinking about the desired outcomes of their education system. And it has made me think more deeply about the skill sets that our students need to be the human beings we want to see in the world.

There are some skills we already name and on which we focus. We want our students to develop the skills of empathy and critical thinking, balancing their ability to question the world and discern information with their ability to understand others' emotions and perspectives. We want our students to act as engaged community members, who make the world around them a better place. We want our students to be self-aware and reflective, knowing their own emotions and having the skills to self-regulate. We want our students to have the skills they need to live a Jewish life - this means, for example, that they both know the halakha around cleaning for Pesah and they actually come home and help kasher the kitchen (always my favorite homework assignment as a parent!).

But my trip to Finland has made me think even more deeply about the skills our children need when living in Los Angeles. Wool hats and socks are not as essential for our Angelino babies, but it feels important that our younger children learn how to cross a street safely by themselves, and our middle school students learn self defense and how to navigate public transportation. I am thinking deeply about what skills our school has an opportunity to teach through a Jewish lens - such as monthly budgeting/accounting and the role tzedakah plays in that work - and as we plan for our Middle School trip to Israel in December, I am pondering what opportunities might exist to teach students about travel and the executive functioning necessary to travel successfully.

But here is the part that we all must acknowledge and recognize and hold - in building these skills (the ones we have already been teaching and the ones we might want to introduce), we all must balance process and outcome. Yes, we want our children to be adults who can cross the street and budget their expenses (and maybe even wash their own wool), but getting there takes time. 

When our children begin dressing themselves and they put their shoes on the wrong foot or button their shirts the wrong way.

When our children rush through their work without double checking their answers.

When our children cross the street without looking both ways. 

When our children rely on us for remembering their homework or emailing their teachers, rather than self-advocating.

We don’t expect toddlers to cross the floor without falling the first time they try — yet we often expect our children to master complex life skills on the first attempt. Watching students in Finland being explicitly taught the skills their society values reminds me that parenting and teaching aren't about immediate mastery. They're about laying stepping stones toward the adults we hope our children will become. 

The Exodus story echoes this truth: the Israelites knew their destination, but their path was winding, full of mistakes, setbacks, and learning. Reaching the Promised Land took time. So too with our children. If we want to guide them toward lives of meaning and purpose, we need teach them the things that really matter, and then have patience for the process and faith in the journey. The outcome is shaped not by any single day, but by how we walk with them — stumble by stumble, step by step.