Imagine a world where every Jewish child could attend day school. Where Jewish values and leadership, Hebrew language and connection to Israel were guaranteed and not gated by income. Where Jewish identity, community and pride were built every single day.

Now imagine what we are risking by failing to make that world a reality. 

Ashok Sinha/Adobe Stock

Illustrative. Students in a Jewish day school classroom.

For many middle-class families, the barriers to day school education aren’t just tuition costs. They include unpredictable aid, mounting fees and year-to-year uncertainty. The result is a cycle of stress and instability that makes planning for Jewish education nearly impossible.

Jewish day schools are the most powerful continuity tool we have. As Jehuda Reinharz, president and CEO of the Mandel Foundation, noted in a recent interview in these pages, day schools are essential to fostering resilience for young Jews. That kind of resilience isn’t theoretical; it’s formed in classrooms and lunchrooms, in Jewish spaces that affirm our children’s Jewish identities.

And yet, middle-class families are being priced out of all this. Too often, they earn just enough to be ineligible for aid but not enough to cover full tuition plus fees. This leaves even current day school parents in a precarious state, unsure from year to year whether they can remain in the very schools that fostered their children’s Jewish identity, community and connection.

I know this because I am one of them. My professional life is dedicated to advancing Jewish values and impact, but my own family is struggling to afford the very Jewish education that helps instill those same values in our children. This is not for lack of commitment; it is purely a matter of cost.

When we enrolled our children, it felt like winning the lottery. Neither my husband nor I had immersive Jewish education growing up. I went to public school and a supplementary Hebrew school, which felt more like an obligation than a source of belonging. He was raised in a secular Soviet household. We wanted something different for our children: joyful, daily Jewish learning.

We found an inclusive school with a tuition we could just manage. Jewish life entered our family’s daily rhythm. Our kids thrived.

When the school closed, we scrambled. Orthodox schools were full or unresponsive, and families like ours, especially with individualized education program (IEP) needs, often had no options. Many transitioned to public school. We were fortunate to find a Conservative-aligned school that welcomed us, though the financial stretch grew steeper.

Now, three years later, we’re in a precarious position. Tuition and fees alone have put us deep in debt. Like many day schools, ours isn’t equipped to fully support our children’s learning needs, so we also pay out of pocket for specialists that the school encourages us to work with outside the classroom.

As enrollment deadlines loomed, we reapplied for additional support and began preparing public school paperwork. Fortunately, our school came through with a generous and timely solution that enables us to remain another year. But like many middle-class families, we face the stress of reapplying annually without knowing what’s ahead. The emotional and financial toll is exhausting, even with a supportive school.

Families who can’t remain in day school, whether due to cost, IEP needs, or admissions limits, try to patch together Hebrew tutoring, Sunday school, youth groups. But that’s no substitute. Jewish day schools are deeply transformative. They can’t be replaced by supplemental programs.

If I could speak to funders, federation leaders, and communal decision-makers, I would say this: Investing in Jewish day school affordability isn’t just about tuition. It’s about stability,  access and continuity. If families can’t plan, they can’t stay. And when they are pushed out, we lose future leaders, educators and community builders.

Schools and funders should offer multiyear, rolling scholarship commitments. If a family’s income remains stable, so should their tuition support. Predictable aid helps parents plan and eases the operational burden on schools.

Efforts are being made. Federations have launched pilot programs. Prizmah and the Orthodox Union are working on tuition strategy. But these remain fragmented and small in scale. They don’t meet the needs of middle-class families who face the same uncertainty each year.  

The American Jewish community is among the most philanthropically generous in the United States. From universities and museums to public broadcasting and civil liberties, Jewish philanthropy is visible everywhere; and yet Jewish day school affordability has not become a top communal priority. 

Journalist Avital Chizhik-Goldschmidt put it bluntly in a recent “Meaningful Minute” podcast: It’s an embarrassment that, with all the resources we have, we haven’t figured out how to make Jewish education affordable. She challenged listeners to imagine if the millions spent on fighting antisemitism were redirected to giving children a Jewish education.

If we can fund Birthright and build university endowments, we can build one that supports Jewish day school families — not just for one year, but for the long haul.

This is the call to conscience. The money exists. The question is whether we have the will to reprioritize and place Jewish day school affordability and continuity at the center of our philanthropic agenda. It’s time to treat day school affordability and predictability not as fringe concerns, but as core investments in the Jewish future.

Mikhala Stein Kotlyar is a Harvard-trained nonprofit strategist with a focus on grant development, impact reporting and Jewish philanthropy. She leads grants management and evaluation at Reut USA’s Tikkun Olam Makers, an Israeli American nonprofit advancing assistive technology through frugal innovation.