The side job was eroding his hard-won self-respect 

Yerucham: I’m not in a position to worry about image; I need to provide for my family.

Rabbi Gold: Our students need to be able to respect their rebbeim.

Yerucham

We moved right before Dovy was born. It wasn’t like we really had a choice in the matter. Five kids in our small two-bedroom rental simply wasn’t going to work.

The new apartment was spacious. There were three bedrooms (three!) plus a small office that could double as a fourth one if necessary. The kids had space to play, there were two bathrooms, and it was reasonably priced for the size. Miri, my wife, was delighted.

And I was... frankly, I was terrified.

We’d barely been scraping by through the month until that point. And while the rent was definitely on the lower end for a three-bedroom apartment, it was still significantly higher than what we’d been paying up until then.

How on earth were we going to pay the difference?

Miri didn’t share my concerns, or maybe she was just preoccupied. With the baby on the way, she was determined to get the house organized as quickly as possible. She chatted to me about the space, the closets, the huge pantry, the space. I listened and nodded and tried to smile as the thought buzzed, relentless, through my mind: But the rent. The rent.

Yes, we had a plan. Sort of. We would cut corners here and there, tighten our belts. The school would give a Pesach bonus and Miri’s grandparents usually came through with generous baby gifts. But we already lived frugally, and the extra cash wouldn’t last long.

“Maybe I should look for a different job,” I said to Miri one evening, in desperation.

She turned to stare at me, even while she continued folding the towels.

“Leave your job? But I thought you loved your job.”

“I did. I do.” I’d been teaching fifth grade since leaving kollel. I couldn’t imagine leaving the yeshivah to work in some stuffy office. And where would I even get another job offer? I had zero qualifications, zero experience aside from my teaching job. “It’s just— I keep on crunching the numbers, and I don’t see how this is going to work. We need to pay the bills.”

Miri was quiet. I felt a pang; I hadn’t wanted to put this burden on her, too. She did so much, the house, the kids, a part-time job...

“You’re doing everything you can, don’t worry,” I told her quickly. “This is for me... I’m just figuring out our options.” I thought a moment. “What if… if I took on something extra in the evenings? Like tutoring? Maybe I could get some students, earn some extra income that way...”

She nodded slowly. “That’s a good idea.”

I put out some feelers for private students, but nothing seemed to come of it. “It’s just hishtadlus,” I told Miri, although I was really talking to myself. “When something’s meant to come our way, it will, right?”

“Right,” she said, shifting a little. Was that discomfort in her eyes? Or was she nervous about our finances?

“Miri, don’t worry, it will be okay, b’ezras Hashem. With the rent, and everything. Really.”

She smiled, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I know, I know. I’m not worried.”