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As told to Leah Gebber

M y husband’s family is into brief histories. Mention someone’s name and my mother-in-law will thread her fingers together give a solemn nod say “If you want a brief history…” and then launch into an account that includes yichus achievements children and notable relations. “Let me tell you about your Uncle Shmiel ” she’ll say. Or Great-Aunt Esther. Or even the latest about your cousin Dov Ber. She knows I guess. In her 70s living in Bnei Brak all her life having married into a “name” family when she was just 18 she’s made it her lifelong mission to know all the people whose grandchildren’s upsherens appear in the press. Well their wives of course.

So in the spirit of my mother-in-law who plays such a big role in this story I’ll offer you a brief history of my family. I married yichus — and expectations. The world is a shtender and a gemara and what more could you need or possibly want? I’m talking generations of talmidei chachamim and ovdei Hashem who shteiged quietly without taking positions or wanting kavod simply sustaining the world with their learning.

Family gatherings fill me with awe: to peep through the mechitzah and see faces alight with dignity and wisdom is a privilege indeed. When I married my husband he expected to continue on the path of his brothers father uncles grandfather — and so on through the generations.

We had boys first and maybe that triggered all the changes in our lives. Our two eldest weren’t doing well in cheder and my husband had to get to the bottom of it. He sat in on classes talked to experts and devised a learning plan that would play to each one’s strengths. Despite our last name and lots of fluffy talk the plans were not implemented. Again my husband investigated and found that there were failures in the system: communication between administration and staff was patchy rebbeim were suspicious of changes a whole gamut of reasons and excuses.