I was learning how to be unfazed by the bumps in life’s road and instead focus on the true purpose of our time here

Name: Batya Seruya

Dream: Teach bitachon to teens

Location: Brooklyn, NY

M

y parents were pioneers in the Syrian community. My mother, who became frum on her own, was one of the first women in her community to wear a wig when she got married. That strength — the ability to go your own way when the whole world is going another — may be what gave me the nerve to introduce something new to the educational landscape.

About 15 years ago, I was learning Chovos Halevavos, Shaar Habitachon, with my husband, when I said to him, “Nobody knows this! I went to Bais Yaakov and I don’t know it. Neither does anyone else I know.” I’d heard people talk about bitachon, but without any real clarity about what it meant in their lives. Everyone has “ein od milvado” bumper stickers, but so few actually live it. Now, I was learning how to be unfazed by the bumps in life’s road and instead focus on the true purpose of our time here.

I started off slowly, teaching what I had learned with my husband to women in my community, then giving teleconferences to women I went to school with, and I saw that many people were also unfamiliar with the basics of bitachon. These women were daughters of roshei yeshivah, school principals —learned women! — and their lives changed dramatically when they were introduced to Rabbeinu Bachya’s teachings. Now, they found they could react with equanimity to setbacks big or small — whether the shadchan ignored their daughter’s résumé, or the cleaning lady didn’t show up.

When I saw how the awareness of bitachon was life altering, I asked myself, Why not teach it to teens, so they can start their lives with this gift? That question was the beginning of my seminary, Nitzotz Bais Yaakov.

I had no administrative experience at all, and barely any educational experience; I’d been a stay-at-home mother for all my years. But I was determined to share the message of bitachon.

When I prepared the advertisements for my brand-new seminary, I hesitated about putting in my name, since I’m not someone well-known. I called some more influential people, asking them to partner with me, but their reactions were discouraging. “So many seminaries have closed down. How will you compete?” they wanted to know.

Minutes before I submitted my ads, I looked up and said, “Hashem, You will be my partner.” It was the best partnership I could have made. The siyata d’Shmaya is magical.

We started to advertise before Succos, and that first year was spent recruiting. We had girls canceling the day before school started, but I tapped into the lessons I intended to teach and said, “Whoever is meant to come will be here.” I can’t say I wasn’t nervous, but bitachon is a lifetime of work and every little thought process has a cumulative effect toward bringing you closer to Hashem. Come the first day of school we had a class of 30. Now, our third year, we have enough girls for two parallel classes.

We housed the seminary on the third floor of my husband’s shul, after doing a bit of construction to add an office and a classroom.

The staffing fell into place unusually smoothly. It’s our third year and I’ve only needed to make minimal changes to our faculty. In addition to our core curriculum of bitachon, our teachers focus on hashkafah and the mussar to be gleaned from any sefer they teach, rather than on finishing a certain number of perakim before the midterm. We welcome creative teaching styles. You want to teach with a piano? No problem! Our Toras Habayis teacher acts out scenarios with the girls: She is the husband, bringing home the wrong brand of cottage cheese — how do they react? For my own classes, I spend a lot of time at Torah Umesorah’s Teachers’ Center, using my artistic streak to create hands-on projects. I find that what works for fifth graders can work for seminary too, as long as the level is adapted.

Right now, the seminary is a half-day experience, and we’re not really looking to lengthen that. More is not always better. Our girls are out for the day before they have a chance to get tired, bored, or cranky. One day, though, I’d like to add a teacher’s course to our curriculum, to equip girls with the tools to pass on what they’ve learned.

I know we are successfully touching hearts when we get feedback like the comment from a student who told me, “I hated school — I said I’d never open another sefer my entire life, but you turned that around.”

Most of all, I am regularly inspired by the power of bitachon to change lives. People walk in hunched, hear the message of Chovos Halevavos, and walk out standing taller. Forget about Olam Haba; if you want Olam Hazeh, tap into the power of the words and you’ll end up loving your life.

What dream would you pursue if you had unlimited resources? My dream is to teach Chovos Halevavos to the world. Every time I pass one of those big public schools that cover a whole city block, I say to myself, “One day our school will be that big, so I can teach the whole world.”

If you could meet anyone, from any era, who would you visit? Rabbeinu Bachya, the 11th-century author of the Chovos Halevavos, has fundamentally changed my life. I would also love to meet the Klausenberger Rebbe, who lost a wife and 11 children in the Holocaust, to witness how he rebuilt from his destruction and lived the life the Chovos Halevavos promises us we can. I gave his biography to an acquaintance who had suffered a horrific personal tragedy, and she told me that after reading it she was finally able to sleep again at night. The power of living with the Borei Olam is real.

What did you dream of doing when you grew up? I never dreamed of teaching at the level that I do. By nature, I am very shy. My first year out of high school, I taught fourth grade, which was the highest grade I thought I could handle. The principal wanted to know if I’d teach sixth, and I said “Never!” But with effort and siyata d’Shmaya, you can become someone you wouldn’t recognize. Learning Chovos Halevavos has given me such confidence to go out and teach, though in other areas of my life I am still a reserved person.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 582)