Opinion
Dov Forman

Immanuel shaped my Jewish identity. Its closure is a major loss for the community

At a time when many Jewish young people feel pressure, when antisemitism is rising and public expressions of Jewish identity are challenged, schools like Immanuel matter enormously

LONDON- UK- 13th June 2023. 
Photo by Ian Jones.
LONDON- UK- 13th June 2023. Photo by Ian Jones.

When I was asked to speak at Immanuel College’s 35th anniversary celebration just a few months ago, none of us imagined that a few months later we would be learning of its closure.

For so many of its alumni, Immanuel was not just the school we attended. It was the place that formed us. It shaped our Jewish identity, gave us confidence, nurtured our talents and gave us a sense of belonging that is increasingly rare in modern life. To think that it will now close its doors in its 35th year feels hard to comprehend.

I arrived at Immanuel in 2015. I was not always the easiest student. I had endless energy, a tendency to get into trouble, and I suspect I may still be somewhere near the record for lunchtime detentions. But Immanuel never gave up on me. It did not reduce me to my worst moments. It saw something in me that I often did not yet see in myself.

That is what made the school special. It was ambitious but never cold. Disciplined but never harsh. It pushed its students, but it also understood them. Teachers did not simply deliver lessons and move on. They knew us. They cared about us. They gave their time, their patience and went above and beyond.

For me, one of the greatest gifts Immanuel gave was confidence in my Jewish identity. Jewish life at the school was not an afterthought or a box-ticking exercise. It was woven into the rhythm of daily life. Through davening, learning, Israel trips, and the example set by the informal educational team, rabbis and Jewish Studies teachers, we were taught that being proudly Jewish was not something to apologise for, soften or hide. It was something to carry with pride.

That matters more than ever. At a time when many Jewish young people feel under pressure, when antisemitism is rising, and when public expressions of Jewish identity can feel more difficult than they should, schools like Immanuel matter enormously. They do more than educate. They fortify. They give young Jews the grounding, confidence and pride to walk into the wider world knowing who they are.

Immanuel did that for me.

It also gave me space to discover passions that would shape my life far beyond the classroom. Music was one of them. History was another. My history teacher, Mr Raine, encouraged me during lockdown to begin helping my great-grandmother, Lily Ebert z”l, continue her mission of Holocaust education online. What began with a Zoom interview grew into something much bigger: articles, public speaking, a memoir, and the responsibility of carrying forward her testimony to hundreds of millions online. That path changed my life. And it began because a teacher at Immanuel believed in me enough to push me in that direction.

That, too, is part of this school’s legacy. So many alumni can point to moments like that: a teacher who noticed something in them, a performance that gave them belief, a rabbi who gave them strength, a friendship that became lifelong, a school trip that changed how they saw themselves. Immanuel was full of those moments. They are impossible to quantify on a spreadsheet, but they are the reason its loss cuts so deeply.

Immanuel has faced a combination of pressures: falling pupil numbers, changing parental choices, rising costs, the growing appeal of Jewish state schools, and, yes, the additional burden placed on independent schools by VAT and higher National Insurance costs. Any honest reflection has to recognise that this was not caused by one thing alone. But the result is the same: a school that gave enormous value to the Jewish community is now disappearing.

And that should concern us all.

Because this is not just about one school in Bushey. It is about what kind of Jewish educational landscape we want in Britain. Jewish state schools already face huge pressure. Places are limited. Demand is high. Resources are stretched. Losing the only mainstream Jewish private senior school in the country is not a small communal adjustment. It is a major loss.

It means fewer choices for families. Fewer places for pupils. Fewer spaces in which Jewish identity can be nurtured with real confidence and depth. And it means the disappearance of an institution that, for 35 years, helped produce generations of thoughtful, grounded and proud British Jews.

Immanuel helped make me who I am. It believed in me when I was younger and harder to manage. It gave me opportunities, guidance, encouragement and pride. It helped turn energy into purpose. It gave me memories I will carry forever and values I hope to carry for life.

So this is not just a goodbye. It is a thank you.

Thank you to the teachers who gave more than they had to. Thank you to the rabbis and Jewish Studies staff who made Judaism something joyful and alive. Thank you to the headteachers, support staff, governors and parents who sustained the school and believed in its mission. Thank you to everyone who made Immanuel what it was.

A school can close. But what it gave its students does not disappear.

Immanuel’s legacy lives on in the thousands of young people it shaped, in the families it strengthened, in the Jewish pride it instilled, and in the lives its alumni now lead across Britain, Israel and beyond.

That is why its closure is not just sad. It is a real communal loss.

And that is why, for so many of us, saying goodbye feels so painful.

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