She was a first grader begging for help. No one heard her

I

noticed Rivka skip into the school building, and I instantly fell in love. The sparkle in her eyes and the way she greeted me with such awe and excitement pulled at my heart. There was something about this child. I resolved to get to know her, as I did all the students under my care. I was no longer a classroom teacher, but I tried not to let that stop me from giving each child the warmth they craved. In the beginning, I managed to greet each girl in the morning, to ask how their baby sibling or grandmother was doing. But the school grew by such leaps and bounds that it soon became nearly impossible for me to get to know each student.

Today, with an elementary school of over a few hundred children, I couldn’t maintain a personal connection with each student. The only children who made it to my office were the troubled girls, the girls from known difficult homes, and girls with behavioral challenges. It was sad, but this was the reality. Rivka wasn’t one of these girls, which was a good thing, but it also meant that I never really got to know her.

As we settled into the school year, the days fell into routine. Overall, the students were happy, PTA had gone well, and we were looking forward to a well-deserved break over Chanukah. So I was somewhat surprised when Miss Reiner, the first-grade teacher, knocked on my door and asked to speak with me. I motioned for her to sit and asked her what was going on. Miss Reiner was fresh out of seminary, eager and ambitious — but now, she looked frazzled and sweaty.

“It’s Rivka,” she started. “She’s impossible.”

I was shocked. Rivka was adorable, a bright girl who grasped lessons quickly. During our midterm meeting to discuss the students’ progress, all her teachers had described Rivka as a dream student who seemed to love every day of first grade. But I listened as Miss Reiner described how Rivka disrupted the class, exploding into giggles for no apparent reason, and dragging others in to upset the classroom decorum.

“This isn’t typical behavior for her. I’m not sure what happened,” Miss Reiner said.

I’ll be honest: Nothing Miss Reiner was describing sounded too terrible. Still, I understood Miss Reiner’s frustration: Dealing with 25 overexcited first graders can be a lot. Together we crafted a plan for Miss Reiner to work with Rivka. We’d chart her behavior and reward her at the end of the week for her self-control. I wasn’t overly concerned; in fact, I forgot about it as soon as I entered the conference room for my next meeting.

But that week and the next Miss Reiner approached me several more times about Rivka.