In 2009 all was not rosy in the garden of UK Jewish education. It was a time of turmoil. JFS was involved in a race discrimination case over whether an applicant was or wasn’t Jewish. The case went all the way to the Supreme Court, which found that the child in question had been discriminated against by JFS’s admissions policy, and the fallout impacted faith school entry criteria up and down the land. No longer could you be allowed in to a Jewish school purely on the basis of your parents’ ketubah. It wasn’t just who you were any more: it was what you did, too.
At the same time, there was a new, progressive Jewish secondary school opening in North London. JCOSS originally set out to be a school for children from non-Orthodox backgrounds, who wouldn’t be recognised as Jewish by Orthodox schools. Until it came along, there was no Jewish secondary education available for such children.
I was Chair of Governors at Simon Marks Jewish Primary School in Hackney. The governors of JCOSS – which was not even open at that stage – invited Simon Marks to be a feeder school, on the basis that the Simon Marks community was a true cross-section of Jewish identity, adherence and practice. That invitation was rejected by Simon Marks’ trustees because, despite the rainbow nation of families at the school, it was fundamentally an Orthodox establishment, and simply could not recognise JCOSS.
It was at this point that I sat back in my chair and said, ‘We need something different’.
Emma Cravitz and I met to discuss the situation. It seemed to us bizarre that the Jewish community should be so focussed on protecting its children not just from mixing with non-Jews, but even from mixing with other kinds of Jews. This did not seem conducive to community cohesion. We decided that what was needed was very simple: a Jewish school that absolutely anyone could go to if they wanted a Jewish education.
And so began two years of thrilling creativity, cooperation and, ultimately, construction.
We started by talking to Jewish communities around the Muswell Hill area. Meetings in living rooms became meetings in conference rooms, and then meetings in large halls. There was so much positivity, so much enthusiasm for this idea, that at times it felt like we were riding a wave all the way to the door of Eden Primary. Emma’s experience in education, and knowledge of the Orthodox community (I’m Masorti), was invaluable in opening doors and winning trust. It turned out that lots of parents had previously felt that Jewish education wasn’t what they wanted for their children precisely because of its exclusive nature. Our plan had identified not just a gap, but a fervent wish.
I scoured the local area for possible sites where we could build our school. I would pore over Google Earth, looking for patches of brown or green with no houses on them. When I found one, I’d go straight there and look at it. I explored waste land by the North Circular, hidden corners of Ally Pally’s grounds, disused tennis courts, office buildings. And then Emma said, ‘What about the area next to Fortismere?’
At the time the plot of land next to Fortismere housed a crumbling building called Strathlene House. It had been used as classrooms by Fortismere a long time ago, but then was sold off to a property developer who tried to turn it into a vast care home – and failed to get planning permission. Since then it had just decayed. It was so abandoned that even locating the owner was remarkably difficult. He had almost forgotten about it himself.
So we had a possible site. We had a possible cohort of pupils. And we had a name (‘Haringey Jewish Primary’). What we didn’t have was any money. We held several meetings with deeply supportive Haringey councillors, as well as our MP at the time, Lynne Featherstone. All of them said they’d love to have the school. But who would pay for it?
While all this was going on, there was a general election. The Conservatives came to power in 2010, and one of their flagship policies was the Free Schools programme. To be honest, I had no idea what Free Schools were, but it sounded like they might be a potential source of funding. So on the day the policy was launched I went down to the Department for Education in Whitehall, and literally blagged my way in. While nibbling a glass of orange juice and sipping at a vol-au-vent, I chatted to as many important-looking people as I could find. To my astonishment, they already knew about Haringey Jewish Primary. ‘Oh yes, we’ve been following your project quite closely,’ one of them told me. ‘We think it has potential.’
It was at that point I realised our school was going to happen. It was in our hands. We just had to make it work.
Emma and I recruited a fantastic board of governors, all of them united by a deep commitment to the project. Together we embarked on the creation of a Business Case. The government provided us with a consultancy firm, Place Education, whose representative, Tom Legge, despite not being Jewish, became so enamoured of our school plans that he even ended up learning Yiddish. We devised an ethos, a budget, a building plan. We recruited a potential Headteacher, Jo Sassienie, who acted as a professional education consultant once the funding had been approved.
And of course, we devised an admissions policy.
By then, Jewish schools had mostly come into line, and there was a standard admissions process they were all following which involved attendance at a synagogue/voluntary work for the Jewish community/Jewish educational activities. But we knew that there would be young, Jewish families who might not be members of a shul, who were too busy to participate in voluntary work, but who nevertheless identified as observant members of the Jewish faith. And we wanted to let them in.
Every aspect of a school, from the colour of its uniform to the material its desks are made of, should exemplify its beliefs and aims. During the process of creating Eden Primary we came back to this basic truth time and again. The building, the playground, the policies, the curriculum, the layout of rooms, the logo… everything must work in harmony and reinforce the message of the school. In our case that is summed up in one simple phrase: ‘A Jewish school where everyone is welcome’.
And so we devised a new admissions category which enabled people who are genuinely Jewish, but who don’t attend any synagogue, to qualify for entry. We called it ‘Category Five’ (which sounds like a level of security clearance for spies, but actually means there are already four other categories).
Category Five recognised personal or private celebration of the Jewish religion. It said that if you do Jewish things at home, such as lighting candles on a Friday night, holding a family Seder, or singing Maoz Tzur round a Chanukiah, then it’s a fair bet that you are Jewish. Of course you have to provide evidence, and that’s not easy. Emails went back and forth between us, our lawyers and the Department for Education for weeks while we tried to figure out a fair and legal way to include this category. At one stage I was ready to drop it, out of sheer exasperation. But a government employee working on our project called Rafi – a nice Jewish boy from Leeds who hadn’t joined a synagogue since he came down to London – begged us to keep it in, and we did. To qualify under Category Five, you had to provide letters from people (not family members) who were present while you celebrated an aspect of Judaism in your house.
To my surprise and delight, in the year we opened, three families applied to our school in this way: three families who are in all probability halachically Jewish, but would not get in to any other Jewish school. The letters they provided brought tears to my eyes as I realised that Category Five brings together those who yearn for ‘Jewish identity’ to be recognised once again, with those who seek as wide a definition as possible of ‘Jewish practice’. Rafi can send his kids to our school.
As we approached opening day, it became clear that the name had to change. ‘Haringey Jewish Primary’ wasn’t a name, it was a slightly moribund piece of description. We needed a name that had deep Jewish meaning, but at the same time universal understanding. I’ll tell you a secret: ‘Eden Primary’ was not my first choice. The name I was championing was… ‘Bagel Primary’. To me, the bagel is quintessentially Jewish, but has cultural as well as religious connotations. Everyone loves them. They’re round, signifying universality and wholeness. And as a name it also has a soupçon of self-mockery, which we all need. But my fellow board members, to do them justice, had greater wisdom than me. They knew that parents don’t joke around with their kids’ future. And on top of that, ‘Eden’ embodies the love of nature which has always been one of the abiding principles of the school. So, Eden it was.
For the first year, we rented a single classroom in Fortismere School, right next to our own building site. The children of that Reception class got to watch their own school take shape before their eyes. They even had regular trips to meet the builders, and were able to make their own comments and suggestions for the project. (There were several requests for a swimming pool, which had to be gently declined, and one little boy did ask, when seeing the foundations in place, ‘Is it all going to be flat?’)
More importantly, that cohort represented a cross-section of Jewish observance, and a smattering of non-Jews too – all learning from and with each other. And the world didn’t end. In fact it looked a bit better. How can we possibly expect ever to achieve world peace if people build barriers between their own and others’ lives?
One of the most touching memories from that first year was the day our entire school community went to the West London Synagogue to collect our very own Sefer Torah. It is one of the Czech scrolls that were looted by the Nazis and found their way to London after the war. On a bright spring day the children, friends and families of our little school carried it, walking through the streets, from Westminster to Muswell Hill. And there it resides, in an Ark which I was privileged and honoured to make myself as a lasting legacy to the greatest project I contributed to in my life: Eden Primary.
Key people in the Making of Eden Primary
- Peter Kessler MBE: Co-founder, Chair of Governors
- Emma Cravitz MBE: Co-founder, Governor
- Jo Sassienie: Head Teacher
- Lucy Tierney: Business Manager
- Danny Freedman: Governor
- Ilana Abramowicz: Governor
- Lawrence Bloom: Governor
- Gavin Presman: Governor
- Cari Rosen – Governor
- Tom Legge: Education Consultant
- Lara Newman: DfE Buildings Advisor
- Alex Arenson and Uri Berkowitz (designed the logo)
- Jenny Duxbury: School Admissions Officer, Haringey Council
- All the teachers, staff, parents, religious leaders and local residents who supported, worked for, and encouraged the creation of a groundbreaking new school.