With Fresh Eyes by Dr. Cindy Kozierok

With Fresh Eyes

Reflections on Learning at Holy Blossom Temple 

Dr. Cindy Kozierok 

When I arrived at Holy Blossom Temple in July as the new Director of Lifelong Learning, I found myself in the rather unusual position of having time to look around before the school year began. Summer offered a welcome opportunity to get acquainted with the people and practices of a congregation whose history stretches back more than 170 years. There was plenty to learn, and I was in no particular hurry to start drawing conclusions. 

I have always been fascinated by the small things people do that reveal something larger about who they are. A thoughtful gesture, an unexpected decision, or an ordinary conversation can tell us a great deal if we pay close enough attention. The same, I believe, is true of a community. Its character emerges not only in the values it declares, but in the ways those values find expression in everyday life. 

Perhaps it was inevitable, then, that I would approach my first year at Holy Blossom as something of an ethnographic study. Some habits are hard to break, and apparently approaching everyday life as a research project is one of mine. 

Ethnography is a form of qualitative research that seeks to understand a community’s culture through observation and engagement. Rather than beginning with assumptions about what matters, the researcher pays attention to what people actually do, listens to how they understand their experiences, and looks for the values and beliefs that give those experiences meaning. It is an approach that feels particularly natural to me, shaped by my doctoral work in practitioner research. My EdD, or Doctor of Education, emphasized the importance of using research not simply to understand educational settings, but to inform what happens within them. I have carried that conviction into my work as an educator and leader. 

One of my favourite ideas from ethnography comes from the anthropologist Clifford Geertz, who helped popularize the distinction between thin description and thick description. Thin description tells us what happened. Thick description asks us to look beneath the surface and consider what an event means within the culture in which it occurs. The difference is rather like the difference between knowing what someone did and understanding what their actions reveal about their character. 

A recent evening at Senior Cotler School offers a lovely example. 

When our regular songleader, Ayla Smolash, was unexpectedly absent, three students who had been training with her were invited to lead tefillah in her place. They agreed, stepped forward, and led their peers in prayer. On the surface, it’s a simple story about students rising to the occasion. But as Geertz would remind us, knowing what happened is only part of the story. It’s what was happening beneath the surface that makes this moment so meaningful. 

It began with Lisa Baumal, Cotler School Principal, who recognized both the students’ apprehension and their readiness. There is a particular art to encouraging young people to stretch themselves without making the challenge feel overwhelming, and Lisa knew just how to strike that balance. Zoey Wallhouse, our Youth Engagement Coordinator, added her own enthusiastic encouragement, helping the students feel supported as they considered taking on the responsibility. 

Of course, the students hadn’t arrived at this moment by accident. Ayla had been mentoring them, helping them develop the skills and confidence to lead. And when the moment came, Cantor Rosen sat among their peers, singing along and giving the students the space to take charge. Afterward, he praised them for stepping forward, while also recognizing Ayla’s role in preparing them for the opportunity. 

I learned later that a Grade 7 student had approached to ask whether he, too, could join the songleader training program. 

I love that detail. An evening that began with the practical problem of an absent songleader ended with another young person wanting to lead. Nobody had planned it that way. Yet when we look beyond the simple sequence of events, we begin to see the educational values at work: the importance of mentorship, the thoughtful judgment involved in nurturing confidence, and the opportunities that arise when young people see their peers entrusted with genuine responsibility. 

This is what I find so compelling about ethnography. It helps us recognize the meaning embedded in moments that might otherwise pass without much notice. And while I take particular pleasure in discovering these small expressions of human goodness, the purpose of looking closely goes beyond appreciating a lovely story. 

A strategic plan can tell me what a congregation aspires to be. But if I want to understand who it is, I need to pay attention to what happens when nobody is thinking about the strategic plan. 

That distinction matters to me as I consider the future of lifelong learning at Holy Blossom. Before developing new initiatives or proposing changes, I want to understand the principles that already guide the congregation’s decisions, relationships, and educational practices. What values are consistently evident in the way people act? Which assumptions shape our choices? What do our everyday experiences reveal about the things we hold most dear? And where might there be opportunities to bring our practices into closer alignment with our aspirations? 

Of course, understanding a community takes time. A single observation offers a glimpse, not a complete picture. My position as a newcomer gives me the advantage of noticing things that may have become so familiar to others that they barely register. At the same time, I am keenly aware that I don’t yet know all the stories, relationships, and history that give those observations their meaning. That understanding can only develop through conversations with the people who know Holy Blossom best. I have appreciated the openness with which colleagues and congregants have welcomed my questions and perspectives, even as I continue to ask more of them. 

I have taken to describing this approach as looking at Holy Blossom “with fresh eyes,” an expression I’ve used often enough that it may be becoming something of a personal trademark. But I hope it also describes something more enduring than the perspective of a newcomer. Looking with fresh eyes is a habit of curiosity, a willingness to notice what is familiar as though encountering it for the first time, and to remain open to what we might discover. 

That is the spirit in which I hope to write this column. Some months, I may share an observation from congregational life. Other times, a conversation or an educational question may lead us somewhere unexpected. What connects these reflections is a desire to understand more deeply the values that shape our community and to consider how that understanding might inform where we go next. 

After all, sometimes the most revealing things about a place are happening right in front of us. We just have to remember to look.