“Wouldn’t you, as a parent, want to get some training to be able to do the best job that you can?” 

Don’t Ignore Them [POV: Parenting Classes / Issue 906]

In the article about the pros and cons of parenting classes, one mother says she advised her friend with a kvetchy child to ignore him because he was looking for negative attention.

Absolutely not!

Negative attention usually tells me the child is in need of positive attention.

When they’re further ignored, the child may turn to hitting or breaking stuff to finally get the attention they needed in the first place.

Esther Bron

The Most Important Job [POV: Parenting Classes / Issue 906]

Thank you for this fascinating feature. Some important questions were raised, which I’d like to address from the perspective of a parenting instructor (and parent):

1. Do parenting classes work?

This is a good question. Some do and some don’t. It depends on several factors, including the quality of the parenting program used and the proficiency of the practitioner. As the old adage goes, caveat emptor, let the buyer beware. Look for an evidence-based program, which means there is statistical evidence of improved outcomes for participants. In some effective programs, assessments are carried out before and after the intervention, so that progress can be measured. Also, look for an experienced practitioner, preferably with professional accreditation/training.

2. How is it that a parent can go to multiple parenting classes, and not see a difference at home?

Another good question. It’s a bit like a doctor giving pills to patients with high blood pressure. The ones that take the medication and follow the doctor’s guidance will normally see an improvement. Those that don’t, won’t — and may end up blaming the doctor. When I trained as a practitioner, the trainer emphasized that even the best parenting program won’t work without parental implementation.

3. How can a parenting class take into account the individual challenges faced by different families?

An effective parenting practitioner empowers parents to take what they’ve learned and adapt it to their individual family, making it their own. There is no one-size-fits-all. When parents understand the rationale behind the parenting strategies being taught, they can use the tools flexibly in a way that’s personalized for their kids. A good parenting practitioner knows that parents are the experts on their own children.

4. How does one know if parenting classes are based on sound hashkafah?

This is a really important point, especially for a topic as important as parenting. Check who has endorsed or approved the program. Feel free to ask the practitioner if s/he has backing from rabbanim and who they are. If you’re unsure whether it’s the right thing for you, ask your rav.

5. Aren’t parenting classes merely money-making enterprises?

In my experience, the practitioners do their job out of a sense of mission, having seen whole households transformed. Parenting classes are not generally get-rich-quick schemes.

A final point: Let’s all remember that parenting is one of the most important jobs in the whole world. Even workers taking on lower-skilled jobs such as cleaning need to be trained in — wouldn’t you, as a parent, want to get some training to be able to do the best job that you can?

R. Atkins QTS NPSLBA

London, UK

Reflections on Taharahs [The Last Bridge / Issue 905]

This article, which featured three women who have been doing taharahs, very much resonated with me.

I’m originally from Memphis, Tennessee, and my husband, children, and I found ourselves there for a delightful 12-year period.

From our early twenties, my husband and I had the privilege of becoming part of the chevra kaddisha, which is such an awesome thing, as you’re able to “roll up your sleeves and get to work” in a small community, doing things that you wouldn’t have dreamed of doing until you’re older.

Doing taharahs has greatly enhanced our lives in very deep and real ways. I’ve been able to use this experience in varied ways, aside from within my own life. When the amazing program of Ner L’Elef existed for women, among other subjects, I taught women who would be going out for kiruv all about doing a taharah and the beauty of it.  Over the years, I was in touch with many who began to do it in their communities. Many of them said that had they not had classes about it, they would have never gotten involved.

I’ve also been leading tours to Europe and Poland for many years, and there are two specific places where I speak about a taharah in Poland. In Majdanek concentration and death camp, in the crematorium building, there’s a slab-like concrete table with a small hole in it that looks remarkably similar to a taharah table, but it’s the absolute opposite of dignity and kavod for the niftar.

I reframe this appalling room and speak about the kedushah of doing a taharah. We treat the guf of the meis with utmost respect and tzniyus, only uncovering that which we’re cleansing, and ask mechilah afterward in case we shamed it in any way. I then speak about bein adam l’chaveiro and the importance of this whole set of mitzvos. I point out how the Rambam in Hilchos De’os tells us that we have to find ways to honor and praise a person — and how we have so many opportunities every day to do that in our interactions with others. This deeply registers as we stand in the crematoria.

The second place that I speak of a taharah is in the magnificent chevra kaddisha building in Lodz. It’s clear from the beauty of this large building that the Lodz community properly understood and took very seriously honoring the niftarim and escorting them to the other side. Among other things in this impressive building, we see the two taharah rooms, so very similar to what we saw in Majdanek, so very similar to what our taharah rooms of today look like. There, we reach back in time and connect to our past and speak of our continued connection and unbroken chain of our holy traditions.

Thank you for this article. I hope it will awaken interest in others to be among those who help escort the niftarim on their eternal journey as they cross this last bridge between This World and the next.

Chana Silver

Memphis/Jerusalem

Seminary Is Essential [Quick Q / Issue 905]

As I read the comments in the column about attending seminary in Israel, I felt myself holding back tears. I couldn’t help but think about the fact that this column appeared during the week of parshas Devarim, when Klal Yisrael are rebuked for accepting the words of the Meraglim, resulting in their slandering (Eretz Yisrael) in their tents. They shed tears that resulted in our crying for generations on Tishah B’Av.

I understand the tremendous financial difficulties in sending a child to Israel. And, yes, there are girls who spend way too much money during their year in Israel. That’s something parents can control by setting up a budget for their daughter. Or by requiring that they contribute to the spending money for the year with a summer job.

But I can’t understand the attitude that this seminary year isn’t necessary for a girl from a frum home, or as was stated, she doesn’t need to “change her life.” I can’t imagine that a mother who had the zechus to attend seminary in Israel wouldn’t want her daughter to have this opportunity, that she wouldn’t remember how life-altering the year was for her.

I’ve been teaching in seminaries in Eretz Yisrael for over 40 years. I’ve taught many girls from solid frum families. I see these girls gaining tremendously from this year. They go from being shomer Torah u’mitzvos and “doing what I have to do” to feeling a joy in what they’re doing. I see these girls working on their davening.

I often stand with these girls at the Kosel or kivrei tzaddikim, and I see them developing a relationship with HaKadosh Baruch Hu. They go from going through the motions to being yotzei having davened to really talking to Hashem. I see the girls solidify their chashivus HaTorah and go back with an excitement to marry a ben Torah and build a beautiful bayis ne’eman b’Yisrael.

And I see the girls developing an appreciation and love of Eretz Yisrael. How would these girls ever feel that “Ein Torah k’Toras Eretz Yisrael” without experiencing this year?

Rachel Rudman

Two Halachos a Day [The Lives Lashon Hara Destroyed / Issue 904]

Thank you for writing this powerful piece that depicted the horrific ramifications of the spoken word in great detail. Recently it’s been my passion to learn two halachos of shemiras halashon daily. I was inspired by a normal, active, healthy teen who shared their decision with me to learn daily in my zechus (I’m still single).

Good people who don’t mean harm can also make serious errors. For example, saying to another about a potential shidduch that the family is picky gives them a bad reputation and is lashon hara. Learning two halachos a day makes one more knowledgeable in knowing what can be said, can’t be said, must be said… and how to say it.

Taking this on is literally so easy and life-changing… especially for people like myself, who knows the way it feels when words of harm are spoken. Take your pick of which sefer and the means to learn. The choices are endless.

I invite you to join and learn in my zechus, Chaya bas Maryam Rivka.

Rikki Possick

What’s the Halachah? [The Lives Lashon Hara Destroyed / Issue 904]

This article about the lives ruined by lashon hara was extremely relevant to this time of year, and each story highlighted how lashon hara could impact peoples’ lives.

While we all know and feel that the protagonists in each story committed grave aveiros, it would have been  appropriate to  include the relevant halachos at the end, explaining the “wrong” in each story. At the very least, there was lashon hara, motzi sheim ra, rechilus, and ona’as devarim.

In shidduchim, when people hear, “It’s not for you,” they’re quick to drop a suggestion, possibly accepting rechilus, but unwilling to verify or clarify, using the excuse of not wanting to speak lashon hara.

Some tips on to’eles would also go a long way in preventing disasters when giving shidduch information.

Thank you for raising the awareness.

Shuli Nakdimen

A Fresh Start [The Lives Lashon Hara Destroyed / Issue 904]

The story of the student who struggled under a certain teacher and that history stuck with him throughout school really resonated with me.

When I was a student, I had a very rough year in third grade. When I entered fourth grade, my teacher said, “This is a fresh and new year. I don’t speak to last year’s teachers to find out what type of student you were.” It was truly a new beginning for me. We’re now at the beginning of a new school year. Teachers, you have such a power to bring forth new strengths in your students and help them blossom with new beginnings. I understand that sometimes a student’s history is important to take into account when entering a new classroom. But spare them the impression and help them start anew.

Name Withheld

Don’t Judge Yourself [Words Unspoken / Issue 904]

As a nearly 50-year-old mother of adult children who has experienced difficult marital challenges, I relate to the pain of feeling you fell short while raising your children. You, like myself, may be a third-generation  Holocaust survivor, and may be suffering from its residual effects and wounds, which have inadvertently affected your children’s upbringing as well.

I’m moved by your love for your daughter and your willingness to enter therapy with her. I’d like to comment on something that you wrote in the last paragraph of your letter, though. You state, “Please keep in mind that dan l’chaf zechus relates to parents as well.”

I wonder why you end off your letter in this manner. It seems to me that what your daughter is asking for is an understanding of the magnitude of her pain. You write that your daughter wishes you would “get” how painful parts of her upbringing were for her. Nowhere in your letter do I get the impression that your daughter is “judging” or blaming you.

I’d like to point out that often when we feel judged by our children, we’re actually judging ourselves. We vacillate between “throwing ourselves under the bus” and exonerating ourselves. Judging ourselves guilty or innocent prevents us from giving our children what they’re truly seeking, which is to be held by us, metaphorically and perhaps even physically, with love, compassion, and understanding. Judgment blocks our view of our children’s pain. It makes our “mistakes” unbearable for us to hold, and we lose our ability to “see” our children.

I say this as an adult child who suffered and continues to suffer from emotional abuse by her parents. I love my parents. I don’t judge them. I do wish that they would hold me, see me, and understand how their behavior greatly affected me. It’s this knowledge, that I’ve only recently acquired through good therapy, that I hope will help me hold my own children if they ask me to do so.

There’s no place for judgment here. We’re all inherently good and well-meaning, and doing the best we can with what Hashem gave us. We can take ownership without judging ourselves. We can extend more compassion when we don’t feel blamed.

Name Withheld

Yes, Mommy [Family Reflections / Issue 903]

Sarah Chana Radcliffe’s column “I Don’t Argue” was a terrific piece about how we as parents can sometimes perpetuate an argument with our kids, especially when it is a “no” answer to a request by the kids.

I did something very similar to what she suggested that I think might work for families with children who can be relentless in their efforts to get us to change our minds. My version of “I don’t argue” was, “The answer is, ‘Yes, Mommy.’ ” Sometimes my child or children would fire back things like, “But you said yes a different time!” or “But it only costs $XX!” or “The neighbor’s kids are doing it!” In each case, I’d respond the same way. The answer is, “Yes, Mommy.” As long as I didn’t back down, I could effectively end the argument, while gently pointing out that our home isn’t democratic.

We parents have ultimate veto power. I tried to treat my kids with respect, to hear them out, and to say yes whenever it was prudent and appropriate.

I think it builds trust with your kids and shows respect for their wishes or needs. However, my kids grew up knowing that once we started the, “Yes, Mommy” cycle, they weren’t going anywhere by continuing to beg, harass, and argue. This was also something I used in my fifth-grade classroom which, again, was not a democratic society. We made many decisions by majority rule or by giving choices to students, but there were no illusions about the final say. It was mine.

I would caution people who wish to include this in their chinuch style that in order for it to work well and maintain and build relationships, they must show genuine respect to kids. This is not to say that it’s on the level or near the level of the type of respect they must have for the adults in their lives, but building trust requires some degree of respect for kids.

Mrs. L. a.k.a. Mommy

Shlichim from Hashem [Musings / Issue 903]

I was profoundly touched by the article “Whispers and Whiskers,” and even more by your courage in not only sharing your pain, but in confronting it. You reminded me of both former and current clients of mine, and one former client in particular, a girl to whom a trusted person had “done things” (as you phrased it), and of the sadness, shame, and rage she bore in silence for many years. She had a pet that, for years, was her only comfort and source of strength. I like to think of these pets and animals, like the cat in your window, as small shlichim from Hashem that He sends when someone needs a shoulder or smile, and people might be just too much.

It also took years for my client to break her silence (as is not uncommon), and baruch Hashem, with a lot of work (and tremendous courage), she was able to heal from her pain and be at peace with her life story. Wishing you much hatzlachah in your own healing journey, and may you be able to move through the pain into a place of safety and strength.

Dr. Devorah Okin

Clinical Psychologist

Empathic vs. Enabling [Manipulated / Issue 902]

The spinoff from the article on manipulation and the responses to it is the importance of educating ourselves about the difference between being empathic and enabling.

The question is: When does the genuine and sincere empathy that the empath offers go from empathy to enabling?

To empathize is to genuinely attempt to put oneself in the position or the mindset of the other person. At the core of empathy is the ability to resonate, care about, and pay attention to the feelings of other people.

Empathy is good for us and it’s good for the world. When people feel seen and heard they thrive. Too many people didn’t get consistent empathy when they needed it most, which was in childhood, so they often crave it as adults and flourish in the presence of it.

What is enabling? Enabling is permitting the unhealthy behavior of another person by not giving them any consequences for their behavior, and going one step further by taking responsibility for that behavior. The outcome is that it strengthens and reinforces bad behavior to a point when change may no longer be likely or possible.

Empathy becomes enabling when it becomes a major motivation for the justifications we make for someone else’s bad behavior.

Understanding someone else’s point of perspective is great. It starts to become a problem when you do it and the other person doesn’t, and their behavior goes unaddressed.

You can still empathize with a person’s difficult life history, but you can also then say, “I get it, and your behavior isn’t acceptable.” Your empathy isn’t the equivalent of a Get-Out-of-Jail Free Card. Acknowledging our own discomfort with setting boundaries is a first step. Perhaps the greatest challenge with empathy is that we show so little of it toward ourselves, but in truth, if we can be empathic with ourselves, we’re not only likely to be far better at giving it to others, we’re also less likely to be an enabler.

Rosie Steiner

B. Couns, GCBCI

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 907)