When they’re young, kids care more about snacks and songs than surnames, but that blissful naïveté doesn’t last long. Most young children, lacking a wider frame of reference, assume at first their own reality applies to everyone. But they soon learn otherwise.

“I assumed everyone’s household was like mine when I was little,” says Dr. Aviva Weisbord, the daughter of Rav Yaakov Weinberg ztz”l and granddaughter of Rav Yitzchok Ruderman ztz”l. Even after Dr. Weisbord started school as a child, and began to understand that her family occupied the highest echelon of the yeshivah, her parents downplayed it. When she complained to her father, “Everyone’s always saying about me, ‘There’s Rav Weinberg’s daughter!’ he parried, “Yes, that’s true. But whenever I pick you up from school, everybody’s always saying, ‘Look! There’s Aviva Weinberg’s father!’ ”

“As a child, I thought everybody else had families like mine,” agrees Tova, whose father ztz”l was a gadol. “I knew my father was special, but I thought everyone else had special fathers too. It wasn’t until I was older, and began seeing his name in Jewish magazines and newspapers, that it occurred to me that maybe my family was different from other families.”

And shortly after these little kids realize that even people they’ve never met recognize their name, they realize that their name carries a certain power. Dr. Yael Respler, a Boro Park-based psychologist and speaker married to a well-known physician and askan in their community, readily confesses that she receives special treatment as soon as people hear her name.

“My daughter loved being a Respler,” she says. “When she got married, she didn’t want to give up the name! My children knew certain doors opened for them because of who their parents are.”

The Doors That Open

Protektziya can wield obvious — and well known — benefits. Bluma readily admits that she used protekziya when her daughter couldn’t get into the school of her choice. “We had gone through a tragedy in the family a few years prior, and she had suffered from it,” she relates. “During that time, we had taken her out of a pretty strict school, frumkeit wise, and put her in a school that was more relaxed. After a couple of years, she decided she wanted to return to the first school, but they didn’t want to accept her. It was only after my husband’s father, a well-known askan, wrote a letter that she was magically accepted back.”

Similarly, it’s an oft-cited truth — or complaint — that protekziya can prevent even students who “deserve it” from being thrown out of school. Ezra remembers two boys who were caught gambling in a casino and thrown out of yeshivah. “While both were thrown out, the boy whose grandfather was an askan was reinstated a few months later, while his friend was not.”

Is that fair? Obviously not; life isn’t fair. When asked how she felt about her grandfather using his influence to get her back into her old school, Bluma’s daughter says, “I was grateful, but definitely aware that his name gave me an advantage another girl wouldn’t have had. I feel a little guilty about it, but I don’t think that not utilizing my acceptance would have fixed anything either.” (Excerpted from Family First, Issue 620)