“I choose not to share, while I work on accepting that my silence inevitably gives others room to judge”

Frum Snowflakes [Point of View / Issue 961]

I was horrified by some of the points of view in the piece on what mothers today feel about having their daughters do chesed or babysit out of the house. Where have we gone wrong as a society that we prioritize sheltering our children from potential, not even actual, negative outside influences over helping others out?

I once heard Rabbi Dovid Orlofsky say that Yiddishkeit is like a fitted sheet. You pull too hard on one side, the other side comes up. I see that clearly here. These mothers place so much emphasis on insularity that they don’t allow their daughters to lend a helping hand to people in need.

We’re seeing this same trend with the elitism in school acceptance, as a letter in the Inbox recently pointed out. Parents are so concerned about their children being exposed to something negative, they’re willing to trample on the dignity of others. I don’t believe this stems from yiras Shamayim, I think it’s the frum version of helicopter parenting, a manifestation of the belief in the wider world that our children are snowflakes who will melt when they experience any heat. We need to realize this is the work of the yetzer hara and put a stop to it.

Suri C.

Not So Perfect [Lifetakes / 960]

I just wanted to say how much your story of being a young widow and most people not realizing that you’re not a happy-go-lucky newlywed resonated with me, and I was touched by your bravery.

During the Covid lockdowns, my husband became very ill with a life-threatening condition. We had excellent doctors, and while hospitalization was an option, they gave us a treatment plan that allowed him to stay home under close monitoring. We spoke to his doctor often and met with him three times a week, but every day felt uncertain. I was nine months pregnant, with three kids at home, trying to manage everything.

We didn’t share much with others — only close family and neighbors who needed to know. I was trying to hold things together for my kids, keep my husband safe, and push through the fear.

One day, I found myself in a high-end home accessories store, obsessing over custom couch pillows. Buying them felt like a way to convince myself my husband would survive. I thought: If he were really going to die, I wouldn’t be spending a fortune on pillows; I’d be planning to move back to the US from Eretz Yisrael, where we lived, to be with family.

My husband was asleep, so I figured I had three hours. I lost myself in fabrics and colors, trying to escape the anxiety of leaving him alone. When I went to pay, the designer, who looked about my age, said, “It must be nice having such a perfect life that you can spend so much energy on choosing the perfect pillows.”

Ouch.

I said nothing. Just left. I didn’t cry. I couldn’t cry, because I had no one to take over if I lost it.

A couple hours later, I called in with a question about my order. I was told, “He’s at a funeral for a close friend.”

He judged me. I judged him. I never told him the truth. Most people don’t. The most painful things are often the ones we keep most private.

Baruch Hashem, my husband pulled through. I still choose to keep things private, partly because I never know what to say when others go through pain. When a friend spoke about her child who passed away, I froze. The hugeness of that loss made me incapable of having a coherent thought. Many people don’t know what to respond to sensitive topics, and I don’t know what I would want to hear. So I choose not to share, while I work on accepting that my silence inevitably gives others room to judge.

May this year bring both nechamah and brachah to you and to all the healing hearts in both of your families.

A Secret Keeper

Invest Wisely [To Be Honest / Issue 960]

The insightful article regarding teachers leaving the field for more lucrative careers was spot-on. With Hashem’s help, I’m an experienced, popular, successful teacher and I — along with colleagues across different communities, schools, and demographics — tell my former students considering teaching the same thing: It’s a nice, enjoyable idea for the first few years until you’re trapped economically, and you owe it to yourselves, your future families, and Klal Yisrael to make better choices.

By “trapped economically,” I’m not talking about not being able to afford Yom Tov hotel getaways, apartments in Yerushalayim, and expensive Chol Hamoed trips. I’m talking about paying your mortgage and your children’s dental bills while living the simplest possible lifestyle. Once you’ve been working for a few years, even if later you invest in improving and refining your skill sets, you’ve essentially missed the primary years for honing your skills in other professional areas.

It’s time for the frum community to take an honest look at the choices it has made, and to realize that you can’t have a real supply of good teachers and simultaneously choose to invest both personal and communal assets in every direction but teachers’ salaries.

While it’s unrealistic to expect a full or quick solution, there are some actionable strategies that can help shift the realities of this conversation in a meaningful way.

1. In today’s day and age, there’s an undisputed need for a school to provide many extracurricular activities. Each school determines its own balance based on its specific needs. But in many schools, parental pressure, along with student behavior and demands, have pushed the schools into a situation where they’re spending more and more on everything beyond teachers’ salaries. Parents can’t complain about wanting more and more extracurricular and recreational activities for their children, and then complain about the fact their children are getting subpar classroom teachers because money that could have gone to higher salaries and retaining good teachers is now going for food and activities.
2. Those who can afford luxurious extras — and there are many in many schools — should think long and hard about spending excessively for that which isn’t always necessary. If every family of means (obviously excluding those who have personal extenuating circumstances) who went to a full Pesach hotel program or sent their kids to touring camps across the world would spend less on these expenditures and donate the extra money to their children’s schools, this money could be used to boost teachers’ salaries.
3. As much as we value supporting limud haTorah and investing in real estate in other parts of the world, it may be time to reevaluate: The chinuch needs of our own communities come first.
4. One unintended consequence of chasing out good teachers who need better economic options is what’s already happening in some schools: Only the very wealthy can afford to teach. This creates an undesirable dynamic over time: a monolithic population of teachers who don’t fully understand the challenges of having to genuinely work for your salary. This creates new and complex problems.

Name Withheld

Expecting Too Much [To Be Honest / Issue 960]

Reading this article as both a parent and a teacher got me thinking about another angle to the issue of teachers leaving for better-paying careers: We have too-high expectations of our teachers and by extension, our schools. Maybe some of that work should be done by parents instead of the schools? Then perhaps teaching won’t be as demanding a field and teachers won’t feel they’re putting in quadruple what they’re getting out.

In the article, you see a lot of expectations of what a great teacher should be. She’ll be able to connect to each and every student in her class (which may have up to 30 kids). She’s expected to have the time and capacity to prepare original and stimulating lessons suitable for each student. She has to provide homework, then grade said homework. She has to attend courses and fill out paperwork, liaise with social workers and parents, and supervise extracurricular activities at times as well.

Quite frankly, I’m wondering why parents outsource all this responsibility to the school. If our children are having learning or social-emotional issues, shouldn’t we be taking them for treatment and evaluation? If our children need extra stimulation, shouldn’t we be providing art classes and soccer lessons? If our children struggle academically, shouldn’t we be providing them with tutors instead of expecting teachers to creative individualized lesson plans for students?

Leah Lowinger

Our Basic Responsibility [Connections / Issue 960]

Sarah Chana Radcliffe’s answer to a woman struggling with her friend’s aggressive son was a refreshing reality check. Instead of recommending empathy for the bully or urging compassion because “hurt kids hurt,” she gave a far simpler directive: Keep your own children safe.

It wasn’t what I expected — but isn’t that the most basic role of a parent? Sometimes, in our concern for feelings — theirs, ours, and even the bully’s— we forget the first priority: protecting our children, even at the cost of a neighborly friendship.

Name Withheld

Recognize the Red Flags [ABY / Issue 955]

I’m writing about “Hard Truths” by Rachel Burnham and Bassie Gruen, which talked about a woman who thought she’d found the perfect man except for the fact that he seemed to have an addiction, which he adamantly denied. I just wanted to point out that in addition to the difficulty this woman had with her date’s addiction, what was not addressed in the article was his defensiveness and the disrespect he displayed toward her when she questioned him about it.

This is similar to what’s happening in the serialized story, To Rock the Cradle. It’s a great read, but I’ve been waiting each week for the writer to address the husband Amram’s controlling and possibly abusive behavior toward his wife, Leebie, and their kids.

I know it’s fiction, but I’m uncomfortable with how Leebie avoids conflict, showing women that this is how to handle a controlling husband. This is detrimental to a wife and the kids.

Eventually, Leebie does speak up, but it seems a little unrealistic how quickly Amram is trying to work on himself. That doesn’t usually happen in real life. Many women find themselves in marriages with controlling men, so we need to point out the red flags when dating to avoid this.

If you’re dating, you should be looking for men who are open to discussing issues, who are respectful in their speech, and are looking to work on themselves and grow. Otherwise, you’ll be miserable, and it most likely won’t be as easy as it is with Leebie.

Name Withheld

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 963)