As a teacher, camp director, and now as a principal, Mrs. Weiner watched this cycle play out over and over — until she couldn’t stand it any longer. It was time to act

M

indy enters the lunchroom, eager to sit down and relax over her salad and iced coffee. It’s been a long morning, and there’s an afternoon ahead too. She heads for a table where many of her classmates are sitting and is about to take a seat at the only empty spot when Esti says, “Oh, sorry, Mindy — I’m saving that seat for Perel.”

Mindy flushes with embarrassment. She mumbles something and looks around for another seat, but no one seems to notice. She finally sits down at an empty table, hoping someone will join her soon, and pulls out her salad. But she’s lost her appetite.

Social exclusion is all too common in schools, camps, and any other social setting. And it’s so often inadvertent! Surely Esti didn’t mean badly — she was just saving a seat for her friend Perel. But Mindy is left feeling alone, rejected, and shamed — something Esti and her other classmates had never intended.

“When it comes to this kind of subtle exclusion, when we see girls in our schools struggling socially, we often miss the point,” says Mrs. Dassi Weiner, a principal at Yeshivas Toras Emes Academy in Los Angeles. She’s noticed a lot of attention given to cases of bullying or to teaching social skills to struggling students. But sometimes there’s a different problem. “So many girls are not actually bullies but just never include someone else into their group,” Mrs. Weiner explains. “And most of the girls who end up on the sidelines have no problem with social skills — 80% or 90% are simply just suffering because of the ‘clique mentality’ of their classmates.”

It’s so common, most girls wouldn’t even think twice about the problem with the above scenario. But simply having a culture of “chevrehs,” where some belong and others don’t, leaves the outsiders feeling unwanted and unworthy.

Mrs. Weiner introduces the topic with an idea found in Rashi. “All non-kosher animals have certain middos that characterize them, which is why we’re forbidden to eat them,” she explains. “But then there’s the chasidah — a bird named for chesed. Shouldn’t that be kosher?”

But no: Rashi explains that the chasidah does chesed only for her “friends,” her species, her “type.”

“To do chesed only to friends is not chesed — it’s cruelty!” emphasizes Mrs. Weiner. “It’s so much more hurtful to be left out by a girl who is kind and friendly within her circle of friends.”

It’s a powerful thought and a jarring one. And up until recently, the methods used to tackle it have remained ineffective.

“When teachers try to manipulate the social scene by asking girls to befriend the ‘less popular’ classmates, it sends the wrong message. The socially savvy, ‘popular’ girls hear that ‘So-and-so needs help’ and then reach out to her as a chesed — and that just reinforces the message that some girls are worth more than others.”

As a teacher, camp director, and now as a principal, Mrs. Weiner watched this cycle play out over and over — until she couldn’t stand it any longer. It was time to act.

The only way forward, Mrs. Weiner insists, is by raising everyone up — by working on including everyone, because every girl is worthwhile, and every girl counts.

“And it’s true,” she says passionately. “Do you know what every Jew is worth? We’re told that every single person is considered like Eliyahu Hanavi on Har HaCarmel (midrash Yalkut Shimoni). At that moment, the future of the entire nation hinged on Eliyahu! He was the only person calling out in the Name of Hashem against idol worship. And every single one of us is considered that important — as if the entire future of Klal Yisrael and the world is leaning on each one of us.”

This is the cornerstone of Mrs. Weiner’s vision.