Applying the Science of Reading to Hebrew: Principles and Possibilities
February 20, 2026
The Reading Wars and the Impact on Jewish Schools
February 20, 2026
Mrs. Rivka Dear
Children are expected to learn to read at a young age, and when that doesn’t happen, they often lag behind their classmates, perhaps forever, receiving support and accommodations that never really allow them to catch up. These students remain on the outside, looking in, as the reading demands become increasingly greater and they struggle to keep up with their peers. Often, the interventions that middle school students receive assume that they know the basics, having completed many years of school. Perhaps some of the students need to start from scratch. Here’s the story of Chaim Meir, a boy who learned to read Hebrew in eighth grade.
Chaim Meir (his name and some details of this story have been changed for privacy) had been part of our school since fourth grade. After he was flagged in kindergarten for a psychological educational evaluation because he was not learning the ABCs as quickly as his classmates, he joined the school’s special education track, where he was pulled out for small-group instruction in reading and writing. Aside from ADHD, Chaim Meir was diagnosed with dyslexia and a language-based learning disability. As he grew, he was pulled out for more and more subjects just so he could stay afloat.
When he joined our school, his challenges had grown so significant that he required a 1:2 teacher for most of the school day. He avoided reading at all costs because it was difficult for him, and his writing was atrocious. His background knowledge in kodesh subjects was weak, not only because of his poor memory but also because he joined our school after the window for teaching kriah had passed, and his catch-up often took place during other core classes. Despite his efforts, he encountered failure again and again. Over time, he developed a sense of helplessness that became difficult to undo. His self-esteem had plummeted, and he began to struggle socially.
Everyone at the school worked tirelessly during Chaim Meir’s elementary and middle school years to ensure he remained in a Jewish school. His family had determined that sending him to public school was not ideal; it was a spiritually dangerous environment, especially for Jewish children, and the local district was failing. Still, as eighth grade began, Chaim Meir knew very little academically, and it was clear that without serious intervention, he would struggle to gain acceptance into a yeshiva. Even more concerning was the possibility that, if he did not find his place, he might turn away from learning and Yiddishkeit.
I am a passionate kriah teacher, and at our school, I was part of the team that selected our kriah program. We were drawn to Kriability because it was similar to Fundations, the English reading curriculum we were already using. Like Fundations, Kriability is a multisensory program based on the principles of the Orton-Gillingham method. It’s a highly structured, step-by-step program with a tremendous amount of built-in review at each level. The program is designed in a way that students are exposed to controlled text as soon as they begin learning the nekudos, allowing them to experience success immediately and have the opportunity to read functionally from the outset. Kriability teaches students to break words into syllables, allowing them to read long words by decoding each syllable individually. There is no guesswork because each skill is taught systematically and explicitly. Kriability is designed to be used starting with Alef Bais and continuing through fifth grade. While the kriah rules themselves are typically mastered in first grade, the program includes several workbooks to improve fluency, which in some schools gets neglected once kids master accuracy in first and second grade.
Over the years, I’ve had the opportunity to tutor several children with learning disabilities in kriah and found a lot of success using the Kriability program. I like to think of a structured program like this as a ramp instead of stairs: everyone could benefit from using a ramp, but people who struggle to walk, or in our case, to read, need a ramp to access the goal.
One day, I was speaking with Chaim Meir’s father, who lamented that his son still could not read Hebrew. I told him, boldly, that if only we could carve out fifteen minutes, three times a week, I could teach him to read Hebrew. Although my primary role at the school is preschool director, I asked the middle school team if I could step in, and they gladly agreed. The best part was that Chaim Meir agreed, too.
On the first day we met, I asked him what prize he might want to work toward, offering him something in the $100 range (eighth graders are more expensive than preschoolers!) He thought about it and told me he wanted a pair of Uggs, something his parents couldn’t easily afford. I agreed, knowing that the Uggs would be his immediate motivation, while the ability to read Hebrew was a gift far greater.
At first, Chaim Meir asked me to lower the blinds in my office so no one would see him. (I only agreed as long as we left the door open a bit to avoid being in a closed room with a student.) Chaim Meir would slip into my room quickly, glancing over his shoulder, embarrassed to be learning Alef-Bais with a preschool Morah. For seven months, Chaim Meir and I met three times a week. We began with Alef-Bais, then moved on to nekudos. Soon, progress came. With each small success, his confidence grew, and he began to look forward to our sessions. I knew he felt good when he came to my room and sat down with the door wide open, getting right to work. By the time we completed the program, he had achieved what once felt impossible: he could read!
As the end of the year approached, he confided to me that his dream was to be the shaliach tzibbur for the middle school mincha minyan, just like his friends. We worked toward that goal, but with only a month of school left, we weren’t able to master mincha in time. Still, another opportunity came. At the eighth-grade Holocaust memorial program for parents, Chaim Meir was selected to lead the recital of a kapittel of Tehillim. To him, this was as meaningful as being the chazzan for Mincha. He practiced again and again until he was comfortable. When the day arrived, he stood tall in front of the parents and, with a clear, confident voice, recited each word. At that moment, he finally felt like Somebody, like a full member of the Jewish people who could read. He had proven to himself that with effort and belief, he could accomplish what once felt out of reach.
This story is inspiring, but I share it because it’s vital for schools to hear that even a middle schooler can make progress with the right Kriah program and with devoted teachers (and the promise of Uggs!) And what we give to these children is invaluable. Chaim Meir was accepted into the yeshiva of his choice, and the next year, when he had a few days off from yeshiva, he came back to our school to visit, not because he had to, but because he wanted to.
Mrs. Rivka Dear serves as the director of the early childhood program at Caskey Hebrew Academy. She received her master’s degree in early childhood education from Long Island University and has been an early childhood teacher and administrator for the past 15 years. In addition, she tutors in Kriah and mentors rising preschool directors through their first two years of leadership.