Associate Professor Amy Simon is the William and Audrey Farber Family Chair in Holocaust Studies and European Jewish History. She holds a joint appointment with James Madison College and the Department of History in the College of Social Science and is a core faculty member of the Serling Institute for Jewish Studies and Modern Israel in the College of Arts and Letters.
Four years ago, I sat on a rocky ledge in Glacier National Park in Montana listening to a massive waterfall course down the mountainside. As I sat peacefully with nothing but my thoughts and the sound of rushing water, I realized that what I wanted most was to be able to capture and retain some of that feeling of utter serenity in my regular life. As I thought about my career, I realized that one of the things I found frustrating was the transactional nature that colors much of the teacher-student relationship. I love teaching and building connections with students, but I hate the stress that comes with giving and receiving grades. My waterfall encounter encouraged me to think about ways I might improve this part of the teaching experience.
I went back into the classroom the following semester with a renewed sense of purpose and began experimenting with different versions of specifications grading to help reduce stress and anxiety for my students. I also began employing empathy as an active part of my classroom. My syllabus contains an empathy statement that highlights my commitment to hearing and supporting my students and asks that they do the same for each other and for me. We discuss the concept of empathy on the first day of class, and I continue referring to it during the semester. These changes helped improve the atmosphere in my classrooms.
However, after Oct. 7, 2023, everything changed again. Following that day, when 1,200 Israelis were killed and another 250 were taken hostage by Hamas, and after the following weeks saw an Israeli military response in Gaza that led to large losses of Palestinian life, the national conversation around Israel, Gaza and the Palestinian population of the region became quite heated. These events and conversations had a significant impact on the mood in the "Jews and Antisemitism" class I was teaching at the time. Jewish students felt shocked and horrified by the events of Oct. 7, and some even had friends or family kidnapped or killed. Many more felt enormous sympathy for the Palestinian civilians experiencing violence. Almost all witnessed awful examples of antisemitism in person or online and found themselves faced with a barrage of vitriolic social media content they had no way to decipher.
Personally, I found myself in a state of horror. I was terrified by what had happened to innocent Israelis, and I was worried about the Israeli response and ongoing violence in the region. I had no idea, however, how strong the anti-Israel and often antisemitic response would become. Sitting here, almost three years later, I find myself in a different world than before Oct. 7; Jews have been shot in the street and synagogues have been attacked right here in the United States. It is unclear to many other American Jews and to me what the path forward will look like.
Especially in times like these, I have found that the framework of empathy has served both my students and me well. Despite my nerves, the 2024 iteration of my "Jews and Antisemitism" class was a success, with most students relieved to have a safe space to learn. As I prepare to teach the class again this fall, I realize that more than ever, it is important to approach difficult topics such as war, violence, prejudice and political tension with an open mind and genuine care for the people around us. Many of us are hurting and many of those without "skin in the game" are angry, confused or feeling unsure. In the best of times, it's good to practice empathy as a basic human kindness; in times of tragedy and unrest, it is absolutely essential.