Featuring Dawn Heyman
In the Talmud, the carob tree is planted for a future the planter may never see. Congregation Beth Tikvah’s Carob Tree Project is about honoring those who have done just that. Dawn Heyman’s story is one of seeds planted patiently in classrooms, in community, and in faith — and of fruit still being gathered today and into the future.
Some of her earliest memories are rooted in the tenderness of her family. “Aunt Betty was my favorite aunt. She used to make jello especially for me because I just loved the color of jello. Not only is it pretty, it tastes pretty! She lived in New Jersey, and we used to go out to the seashore. I’d go swimming in the ocean, which was fun and scary. One minute your feet are on the ground, the next minute you’re ten feet up in the air. I’d stay in the water until I was blue.”
For Dawn, school began unevenly but would eventually become her calling. She loved learning, but her first classroom experience shook her sense of safety. It taught her something lasting about children, how vulnerable they are and how easily a single adult can shape their confidence. What steadied her was another teacher later on. “Mrs. Thorpe is the reason I became a teacher. She was tough,” says Dawn. “She was my role model, and actually my friend as a grownup.” Mrs. Thorpe showed her that rigor and care can coexist, and that simply believing in students can alter the course of their lives.
That belief would guide Dawn through decades in the classroom.
As a Jewish child, Dawn often felt isolated. Being the only Jewish student meant living inside someone else’s calendar and customs. “I was sometimes the only Jewish kid in the classroom. You feel very lonely. It’s always Christmas or Easter, and who you are doesn’t seem to matter.”
Holidays passed without recognition. Identity went unseen. The loneliness was real, but so was her resolve. Over time, she learned to speak clearly and calmly about who she was. She did not aim to persuade, but to stand her ground. Judaism, for Dawn, was never a question; she felt it early and unmistakably. “My soul just knew it was Jewish,” she says.
That sense of belonging eventually led her to her second home: Beth Tikvah. “Beth Tikvah was in a little house on the corner, and I just decided one Friday to go in and see what it was like.” The community, the shared responsibility, the openness…all of it resonated. She didn’t just participate; she led. She taught. She stood at the bimah. She felt at home.
Teaching became the central thread of her life. As a teacher, Dawn loved the process of helping children learn and understand, especially those who struggled. She watched for the moment when comprehension arrived, and frustration softened into clarity. She made room for humor, creativity, and for current events turned into mock broadcasts and commercials. She believed learning should be engaging. It should feel alive.
Dawn was especially drawn to children others found difficult. The ones who tested boundaries; the ones who carried something heavier. Dawn noticed them. She remembered what it felt like to be different, and she made sure those students were seen.
he values that have shaped her came from home. “My mother always said to be kind. Always be kind.” Her father brought humor and creativity into the house, filling it with music. He played the cello, loved classical pieces, and passed on an appreciation for beauty that has stayed with her long after her father’s sound faded.
Even now, art remains a large part of Dawn’s life. She writes poetry inspired by nature and animals. She draws. She notices. She talks to God honestly, and sometimes argumentatively, because for her, faith is about building an authentic relationship.
“I have a need to talk to God and I do. Judaism doesn’t try to make God be anything. You have freedom to love God in your own way.”
Looking back, Dawn measures her life by the moments when kindness mattered. By noticing who was overlooked. By staying curious, creative, and willing to stand in her truth. She speaks plainly about who she is and how she lives. “I’m alive and well. I still drive people crazy! You have to be a little naughty; have a little fun. That’s important.”
In the story of the carob tree, one plants knowing they may never sit in its shade. Dawn has lived that story. Through teaching, through leadership, through faith practiced honestly, she has planted seeds she may never fully see. They live on in the students who felt understood, in the communities that felt like home, in the quiet confidence of being Jewish without apology, and in the simple, enduring command to always be kind.
Her story is a carob tree: planted long ago, still bearing fruit.
Dawn was interviewed on December 10, 2025 by Rabbi Rick Kellner and Hannah Karr
Written by Hannah Karr
Director of Marketing & Community Engagement
Congregation Beth Tikvah