Scroll through Instagram for five minutes, and you’ll see the same trends repeated by dozens. Same audio. Same format. Same visual idea. It's usually hype to get views and get noticed. Yet every once in a while, one of those posts does something different: it doesn’t just make you notice the content. It tells a deeper story. That difference has very little to do with the trend itself. It comes from knowing what you want the trend to communicate before you ever use it. That is

AI can design a polished flyer, choose a color palette, and write five catchy headlines in under ten seconds. But unless you guide it specifically, it will treat your event like a transaction: Details. Date. Location. Please RSVP. The flyer AI creates will communicate what is happening, but it does not help someone understand why being there could matter to them. In Jewish organizations and community work, we do not create events simply to fill a calendar. A Shabbat dinner is

FedEx didn’t become FedEx because people loved purple and orange. It became FedEx because, over time, people learned what those colors stood for. Reliability. Precision. A delivery you could count on. The colors became recognizable because the promise behind them was recognizable first. That distinction matters far beyond FedEx. Too often, organizations treat branding as a visual exercise. They update the colors, redesign the flyer, and refresh the logo, and hope the brand wi

AI can give you endless output. Captions. Flyers. Emails. Event descriptions. Entire campaigns in seconds. But output is not the same as impact. When we give AI a basic task—“Write a post promoting our upcoming event”—it usually produces something polished, informative, and completely forgettable. It speaks to a general audience, lists the details and ends with a predictable invitation to join. The problem is not that AI writing is bad; it's that it was never given enough hum

If you think back to childhood, there was always one moment that could change the entire game. Someone would sprint across the playground, reach out, tap another child, and yell, "You're it!" Sometimes that single touch sent a dozen children running in every direction. The game had begun. Other times, the child who had just been tagged didn't run at all. "I wasn't playing." No argument. No negotiation. Just a quiet refusal to enter the game. As children, we accepted this with

Look closely at why Google actually works. Google succeeds because it starts with the user's question. Great marketing works the same way. The search bar is completely blank until the user brings their own vulnerability to it. Google didn't invent the question "How do I slow down?"—the user did. The magic isn’t that Google has the answers; it’s that Google listens well enough to let the user set the agenda. The biggest mistake Jewish organizations make in their marketing is t

I've noticed something. I can spend five minutes on an organization's website, read their emails, scroll through their social media, and still have no idea who they are, what they do, or why their impact should matter to their constituents. I know when the dinner is. I know how much the gala costs. I know where to RSVP. But I don't know what they believe. I don't know why they exist. And I don't know what changes because they're here. That's a problem. Communities aren't buil

I was recently talking to a community leader who is doing incredible work. They’ve built a warm, vibrant hub, but they reached out to take the next step: to reach those who are still standing on the outside. When we looked at their upcoming event flyers, they said, "Our marketing works well for the people who come to us." And they are completely right. When someone already knows your warmth, a simple flyer that says "Shabbat Dinner" is all they need. It's a logistical green l

Every week, Jewish organizations and schools launch incredible initiatives: Hebrew school registrations, community lectures, holiday dinners, capital campaigns. When the flyer or digital graphic goes out, the internal question is usually: "How do we tell people about this?" That question focuses on the logistics. It focuses on the institution. If we want to build true relationship capital and connect deeply with people, the question has to pivot entirely to their lived experi

The empty hallways of June are deceptive. While the daily rhythm of students, parents, and community members pauses, the baseline trajectory for your next academic year or organizational cycle is being set right now. The organizations that thrive in September are the ones treating the quiet of summer not as an off-season, but as the foundation. If you want to ensure your marketing, enrollment, and engagement don't start from a cold start in the fall, here is how to use the qu

In the lead-up to Shavuot, every community organization is facing the same challenge: Noise. We know the "Leads" that work. We're serving the #1 crowd-pleaser: the ice cream sundae bar. We're giving out the trendiest "incentive" toys of 2026: the NeeDoh Ice Cream squeeze toys. But here is the hard truth: Having the best treats and the trendiest toys does not guarantee you will get noticed. If you post a single flyer, no matter how beautiful, you are essentially whispering in

A student walks across a college campus confidently. They know how to manage the workload, speak to professors, build friendships, and navigate an entirely new environment independently. Somewhere between classes, they walk into the Chabad house confidently, introduce themselves, and stay for a conversation or Friday night dinner. Nobody reminded them to do it; that is what makes the moment meaningful. I think this is the part of Jewish day school education that many schools

As a marketer with 25 years in the education field, I’m often brought into schools with one singular, urgent request: "How do we increase enrollment?" It’s the question that keeps administrators up at night. They want the new leads, the fresh faces, and the slickest ads. But when I push back with a different question, the room usually goes quiet. "What are you doing about retention?" Most leaders look at me as if I’ve misunderstood the assignment. They think of marketing as

For most schools, marketing is not the problem; it's the role they think marketing plays in helping families decide whether the school is right for them. Families already know the schools. They have heard the names for years, formed impressions through friends and community conversations, and often made quiet decisions long before they ever schedule a tour. By the time a parent encounters your marketing, they are not evaluating it from a neutral place. They are filtering it

A different kind of listening I listen to a lot of podcasts as I think through my work. I’m always looking for ways to improve, to be inspired, and to see how others are solving challenges in their schools and organizations. Most of the time, I walk away with pieces: an idea, a reminder, something to try. This time felt different. I was listening to an episode of the Mindful School Marketing podcast (Episode 127) , featuring Alli Williams of The Pilot School and Samantha Fl

I spent a significant amount of time building a marketing plan for the school this year. It wasn’t a collection of ideas or trends. It was grounded in data, looking carefully at where families were entering the process, where they were engaging, and more importantly, where they were stepping away. The patterns were clear, so before the school year began (in August), I created a plan to address the gaps I noticed, with long-term strategies for messaging, website clarity, commu

Moving from what we've built to what we've become. Pesach is over. The kitchen is back. The cabinets are filled again. Everything we packed away for the duration of Pesach has returned to its place. And what’s left isn’t the work. Not the lists. Not the shopping. Not the hours it took to get everything ready. What remains are the moments. The conversations that unfolded around the table. The questions that came up unexpectedly. The feeling of being part of something that matt

Yesterday, I was sitting in a meeting with a school that wanted more inquiries. They were ready to talk marketing. More visibility. More outreach. More ways to get their name in front of families. Before we got there, I asked them: “Do you want the long short way or the short long way?” They smiled, a little unsure what I meant. So I explained. The Short Long Way The short long way is what most schools default to. You do more. More posts. More campaigns. More emails. More eff

I was sitting with a school, reviewing their social media content. They were excited about a reel we had posted the week before, students asking the Mah Nishtanah. It felt real, it felt aligned, and it did well. So the next week, they did it again, and you can bet it was better this time. The students were more confident. The delivery was smoother. You could see they had practiced. It was, objectively, a stronger version. And then they asked me why I didn’t use it. It’s a fai

This blog provides practical advice for educators on how to draft more impactful classroom newsletters by focusing on emotional connection rather than technical details. Parents value personal anecdotes and "micro-moments" that show their child is truly seen and appreciated over lengthy explanations of educational theory. By moving away from formal reporting and toward authentic storytelling, teachers can build stronger relationships with families. Ultimately, the goal is to