Hacking Hanukkah to Design the Jewish Future

This return to the blog has turned into a sharing of other people's wisdom rather than my own. That is probably the best assurance that it is actually wisdom! Today is no exception. Charlie Schwartz first came to my attention when he and Russel Neiss developed Media Midrash and later Pocket Torah. Now he is at Brandeis. I love the Design Lab approach they are using there.

I have been reading and touting Fast Company Magazine since it was first published. Fast Company has made design - as a concept and discipline - a hallmark of the way a "fast company" works. It is the only periodical I read cover to cover and I almost always find something that is applicable to my work as a Jewish educator. Check out what Charlie has done now.

And as for the invention, remember kids, don't try this at home!

Ira

This was originally posted in eJewishPhilanthropy.

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By Rabbi Charlie Schwartz

The epiphany came half way through the session. My design team, a rag-tag group of Jewish high school students, had already identified the centrality of food in creating powerful experiences with family and friends. Then, during a frenzied brainstorm, a jaunty ninth grader shouted, “Wait – there are no good Hanukkah drinks!”

Thus, after several iterations, the Flaming Hanukkah Milkshake was born: sixteen ounces of milk-chocolate deliciousness with a ribbon of strawberry jelly running throughout, served in a double-paned glass with ignited olive oil floating between the layers, and a nine pronged sparkler put in for good measure.

This design experience was part of a series of Hanukkah Hackathons run by the Brandeis Design Lab – a joint project of The Union for Reform Judaism, Combined Jewish Philanthropies and Brandeis|HSP. These sessions instruct teens in the methodology of Design Thinking and provide them with the tools to innovate Jewish life and practice. At first glance, the idea of a Hanukkah Hackathon seems kitschy, a mash-up of old words with new jargon. But the idea of hacking Hanukkah – that is, repurposing and/or refining it in ways not previously imagined – has ancient origins.

After all, Hanukkah is rooted in celebrating the Maccabees’ fight for military and cultural supremacy. The rabbis of the Talmud “hacked” this original purpose, transforming the holiday into a celebration of God’s power, symbolized by the miracle of the oil.

Fast forward to modern times, and Hanukkah is “hacked” again, this time as a tool for integration, providing Jews with a light-focused holiday around the time of the winter solstice on par with Christmas (with presents to match of course). The idea of “hacking Hanukkah” has been part of the Jewish world for a very long time.

This is the goal of the Hackathons: to teach Jewish teens a new approach to listening to each other, to themselves, and to Jewish tradition, and to engage these teens in the age-old process of building, transforming, and hacking Jewish life.

Arielle W., a Hanukkah Hacker who developed a way to share and celebrate everyday miracles, summed up the power of Design Thinking: “Our design team came to the conclusion that we need a way to focus on our journeys and recognize the miracles around us while tuning out the negativity and the haters. This statement didn’t come out of the blue; it came from interviewing members of our team, discovering the memories Hanukkah brought to us, and delving deeper into the meaning of Judaism. It was an intricate process designed to find the root of what we’re really looking for.”

This Spring, the Brandeis Design Lab will use the powerful approach of Design Thinking to give teens the skills to build solutions for real challenges facing the Jewish community. If you are in the Boston area and are interested in taking part in an upcoming Hackathon, or if you would like to learn more about the fellowship or how Design Thinking can change the Jewish world, please be in touch.

In the meantime, I’ll be sipping my flaming milkshake, keeping warm through the soft light of the oil and the knowledge that the Jewish future is in good creative hands.

**Brandeis|HSP cannot be held responsible for injuries or property damage sustained while attempting the Flaming Hanukkah Milkshake.**

Rabbi Charlie Schwartz is the senior Jewish educator and Director of the BIMA and Genesis summer programs at Brandeis|HSP. Charlie can be reached at cschwartz@brandeis.edu. For more information about the Brandeis Design Lab visit: brandeis.edu/highschool/designlab

Why True Grit Matters in the Face of Adversity (Part 1)

A version of this article appeared in this month's Fast Company, a magazine I refer to a lot on this blog. It is written by Dana and Chip Heath, authors of two great books, Made to Stick: Why Some Ideas Survive and Others Die and Switch: How to Change Things When Change Is Hard. I invite you to read and comment on it. My thoughts are in a second post. As you read it, think about the implications for Jewish Education and the innovations many of us are exploring.

Why True Grit Matters in the Face of Adversity
By: Dan Heath and Chip Heath,  February 16, 2011


Photograph by Lorey Sebastian/Paramount Pictures/Everett Collection

U.S. smoking rates have been
declining—from 40% of adults
in the 1970s to 21% today—
thanks in part to persistent
education campaigns by
 Truth (below), Campaign for
Tobacco-Free Kids (above),
and New York City (bottom).

Sometimes a slog can be beautiful. In 1990, Sally Herndon became the program manager in North Carolina for Project ASSIST, an antismoking initiative. Her mandate was to improve the public's health by reducing smoking. But how could she prevail against one of the world's most powerful lobbies -- on its home soil of North Carolina? A knockout blow seemed highly unlikely. Rather, Herndon knew that to succeed she would need to chip away at the problem.

Herndon and her team spent two years planning, but just as their rollout began, they suffered a terrible setback. In 1993, the tobacco industry persuaded the state legislature to pass a law mandating that 20% of the space in government buildings be reserved for smoking. Devilishly, the law limited local governments from passing stricter regulation. Herndon called it the "dirty air law."

So the team had to chip away where it could. It started by picking a fight it thought it could win: making schools smoke free. "Even tobacco farmers didn't want their kids to smoke," Herndon says. Her team had to go from school board to school board, one at a time, grinding out tough victories at the local level. By 2000, it had persuaded 10% of the state's districts to go tobacco free. In 2004, it reached 50%. In 2007, it hit 100%, thanks to a statewide ban on smoking in schools.

In the meantime, more winnable fronts opened up: private hospitals, where sick patients often had to walk a gauntlet of secondhand plumes as they entered and exited. Several progressive hospitals declared their facilities smoke free. Then came prisons, the state's General Assembly, and, finally, in 2009, restaurants and bars. Chip, chip, chip.
During Herndon's relentless 20-year campaign in North Carolina, the adult smoking rate had dropped by almost 25%, and millions of people have been spared the effects of secondhand smoke.

Herndon's willingness to withstand such a slog in a challenging environment is an undeniable showcase of "grit." In fact, new psychological research suggests that grit -- defined as endurance in pursuit of long-term goals and an ability to persist in the face of adversity -- is a key part of what makes people successful. In a culture that values quick results -- this quarter's numbers, this week's weight loss, this month's click-throughs -- grit can be an underappreciated secret weapon.

Consider the difference grit makes even in a naturally gritty place: West Point. To be admitted, cadets must have impressive marks on multiple dimensions such as SAT scores, class rank, leadership ability, and physical aptitude. They've been tested as leaders. Yet during the first summer of training, a grueling period known as Beast Barracks, one out of every 20 cadets drops out.

When Angela Duckworth of the University of Pennsylvania analyzed these incoming West Point cadets, she found that a very simple survey gauging grit -- in which people self-assess on statements such as "I finish whatever I begin" -- could predict who would survive the Beast Barracks better than any existing West Point measure. "Grit may be as essential as talent to high accomplishment," Duckworth wrote, and her research has shown the payoff of grit for audiences ranging from Ivy League undergrads to spelling-bee winners. Though, to be fair, the latter prefers to think of it not as "grit" but as "eschewing pococurantism."

Grit is not synonymous with hard work. It involves a certain single-mindedness. An ungritty prison inmate will formulate a new plan of escape every month, but a gritty prison inmate will tunnel his way out one spoonful of concrete at a time.

Grit is often undervalued in business, because businesspeople like breakthroughs, which are good ideas that you'll have next week. ("I'll tunnel out one spoonful of concrete at a time until I can innovate the spoon into a jackhammer.") But even when it's looked upon as a last resort, it works. A U.K.-based website that hosted popular features for teachers, such as a job board and a threaded-discussion forum, decided to revamp its site. For a year, developers worked on the upgrade, but on the big launch day, there was a nasty surprise: The new site was incredibly slow. It sometimes took 30 seconds for a page to load. Traffic plummeted as teachers abandoned it.

Jon Winny, the product manager of the web group, recalls that discussions initially focused on finger-pointing. Software developers insisted the problem was the servers, while the server people insisted the problem was buggy code. "People were looking for the magic bullet that would solve all the problems," he says.

It took about a month for the group to accept that there was no magic bullet. Then came the grit. It took over a large conference room and wallpapered a 40-foot wall with electrostatic whiteboard panels. Then it began to list all the flaws that might contribute to delays, clustering them into eight key stages in the process of serving a web page. Soon, the team had filled the wall with hundreds of hypotheses.

Every morning started with a standing scrum meeting in the conference room, which became known as the "war room." Each day, the group would identify a few of the problems to chase down. "It was slow, slow progress," Winny says. "We'd eke out two or three seconds per week." Notice the similarities to the antismoking effort in North Carolina: a big goal pursued in small increments, as well as a kind of "siege mentality." We are fighting a war on load times..

Four months later, after countless late nights of work, the team shaved the average load time down to five to eight seconds. And the teachers started coming back.

Grit is tough because you don't get the psychic payoffs that come with an exciting discovery or a shift in direction. You rarely get big wins to celebrate. In fact, you may never truly win. You will never have a web page that loads instantaneously or a state with no smokers. All you can do is shave a few seconds off a load time or persuade a few more rural school districts to join your campaign. And that slow, inch-by-inch progress? It's called winning.

A version of this article appears in the March 2011 issue of Fast Company.

Dropping the Baton in the Synagogue

This is from the July issue of FastCompany. FastCompany is a business magazine, and ever since the first issue came my way fifteen years ago I have read it cover to cover. Each month I find articles that make me think about my work as a Jewish educator and as a human being. There are more ideas than I have had a chance to implement and the list grows longer each month. It has introduced me to Seth Godin, the importance of Design and more recently Chip and Dan Heath.


This article made me think about the process of recruiting, and more importantly growing and maintaining the relationships with a member family in our congregation. They come in through so many different doors: nursery school, family education, social justice, a desire to enroll children in religious school, a worship experience, spiritual searching - you name it. And then we get them to join. 


Some time later - hopefully years - they resign. And we are shocked, I tell you. Simply shocked. (cue Sam on the piano - you must remember this...)


Why would they leave? Perhaps they have accomplished what they thought of as their purpose for joining. Maybe the kids have left the house so they see no reason to belong for themselves. Maybe the dues are too high. Maybe, maybe maybe.


This article made me wonder how many ways we drop the baton in our synagogues. With our students. With their parents. With the family as a whole. We should have been working to help them find multiple reasons for being connected to the temple, to develop relationships with other members and with the institution itself that go beyond the reason they joined. I began this line of thought on this blog in April. I am sure there is more to come. I invite your thoughts on this.

Team Coordination Is Key in Businesses

By: Dan Heath and Chip Heath July 1, 2010

At the 2008 Beijing Olympics, the American men's 4x100 relay team was a strong medal contender. During the four previous Games, the American men had medaled every time. The qualifying heats in 2008 -- the first step on the road to gold -- should have been a cakewalk.

On the third leg of the race, the U.S.A.'s Darvis Patton was running neck and neck with a runner from Trinidad and Tobago. Patton rounded the final turn, approaching anchorman Tyson Gay, who was picking up speed to match Patton. Patton extended the baton, Gay reached back, and the baton hit his palm.

Then, somehow, it fell. The team was disqualified. It was a humiliating early defeat. Stranger still, about a half-hour later, the U.S.A. women's team was disqualified too -- for a baton drop at the same point in the race. (Freaked out by the trend, the U.S.A.'s rhythmic gymnasts kept an extra-tight grip on their ribbons.)
Team U.S.A.'s track coach, Bubba Thornton, told the media his runners had practiced baton passes "a million times." But not with their Olympic teammates. Some reporters noted that Patton and Gay's practice together had been minimal.

Thornton's apparent overconfidence was understandable. If you have four world-class experienced runners on your team, shouldn't that be enough? Unfortunately, no, it isn't. The baton pass cannot be taken for granted -- not on the track and not in your organization.

We tend to underestimate the amount of effort needed to coordinate with other people. In one academic experiment, a team of students was asked to build a giant Lego man as quickly as possible. To save time, the team members split up their work. One person would craft an arm, another would build the torso, and so forth. (At least one person, of course, was charged with tweeting compulsively about what the others were doing.)

Often, the parts were carefully designed, yet they didn't quite fit together properly, like a Lego Heidi Montag. The problem was that nobody was paying attention to the integration. The researchers found that the teams were consistently better at specializing than they were at coordinating.

Organizations make this mistake constantly: We prize individual brilliance over the ability to work together as a team. And unfortunately, that can lead to dropped batons, as JetBlue infamously discovered back in February 2007.

You remember the fiasco. Snowstorms had paralyzed New York airports, and rather than cancel flights en masse, JetBlue loaded up its planes, hoping for a break in the weather. The break never came, and some passengers were trapped on planes for hours. If you've ever felt the temperature rise on a plane after an hour's delay on the tarmac, imagine what it was like after 10 hours. These planes were cauldrons of rage -- one stray act of flatulence away from bloodshed.

JetBlue did its best to survive the wave of hatred -- its CEO apologized repeatedly and the company issued a Customer Bill of Rights, offering cash payments for delays and cancellations. But the executives realized that these efforts wouldn't eliminate the underlying problems, which were rather unyielding: The weather is unpredictable; New York airports are overcrowded; passengers expect on-time performance anyway. If JetBlue didn't fix its operations -- learning to respond to emergencies with more speed and agility -- another fiasco was likely.

JetBlue's executives knew that a top-down solution by a team of executives would fail. "The challenges are on the front line," says Bonny Simi, JetBlue's director of customer experience and analysis. In October 2008, Simi and her colleagues gathered a cross-section of players -- crew schedulers, system operators, dispatchers, reservation agents, and others -- to determine how the company handled "irregular operations," such as severe weather.

Individual members of the group knew the issues in their departments, and "if we brought enough of them together," Simi says, "we would have the whole puzzle there, and they could help us solve it."
Where do you start? If you ask individuals what's wrong with their jobs, you'll get pet peeves, but those gripes may not address the big integration issues. But if you ask people directly how to fix a big problem like irregular operations, it's like asking people how to fix federal bureaucracy. The topic is too complex and maddeningly interrelated; it fuzzes the brain.

Rather than talk abstractly, Simi decided to simulate an emergency. As the centerpiece of the first irregular operations retreat, Simi announced to the group: "Tomorrow, there's going to be a thunderstorm at JFK such that we're going to have to cancel 40 flights." The group then had to map out their response to the crisis.

As they rehearsed what they would do, step by step, they began to spot problems in their current process. For instance, in severe-weather situations, protocol dictates that the manager on duty, the Captain Kirk of JetBlue operations, should distribute to the staff what's known as a "precancel list," which identifies the flights that have been targeted for cancellation. There were five different people who rotated through the Kirk role, and they each sent out the precancel list in a different format. This variability created a small but real risk. It was similar to slight differences among five runners' extension of the baton.

In total, the group identified more than 1,000 process flaws, small and large. Over the next few weeks, the group successively filtered and prioritized the list down to a core set of 85 problems to address. Most of them were small individually, but together, they dramatically increased the risk of a dropped baton. JetBlue's irregular-operations strike force spent nine months in intense and sometimes emotional sessions, working together to stamp out the problems.

The effort paid off. In the summer of 2009, JetBlue had its best-ever on-time summer. Year over year, JetBlue's refunds decreased by $9 million. Best of all, the efforts dramatically improved JetBlue's "recovery time" from major events such as storms. (JetBlue considers itself recovered from an irregular-operations event when 98.5% of scheduled flights are a go.) The group shaved recovery time by 40% -- from two-and-a-half days to one-and-a-half days.

Ironically, JetBlue's can-do culture contributed to its original problem. "The can-do spirit meant we would power through irregular operations and 'get 'er done,' " says Jenny Dervin, the airline's corporate communications director, "but we didn't value processes as being heroic." The company's heroes had been individuals -- but now they share the medal stand with processes. (Here's hoping that the next American relay team, too, extends some glory from the runner to the handoff.)

The relay team with the fastest sprinters doesn't always win, and the business with the most talented employees doesn't either. Coordination is the unsung hero of successful teams, and it's time to start singing.

Dan Heath and Chip Heath are the authors of the No. 1 New York Times best seller Switch: How to Change Things When Change Is Hard, as well as Made to Stick: Why Some Ideas Survive and Others Die.