“It’s an open secret that most schools compensate their rebbeim better than their morahs”
Let’s Close the Pay Gap [Deal or No Deal / Issue 924]
As a veteran morah, I was frustrated by the responses to your question about cash gifts to rebbeim versus morahs. It’s clear that we’re still in a place where most people stick to the “status quo” of giving the rebbeim more. But why is that even the status quo to begin with?
It’s an open secret that most schools compensate their rebbeim better than their morahs, but it pains me to hear that the same sentiment exists among parents as well. As a mother of mostly boys, I value their beloved rebbeim just as much as anyone. But I have to believe that the balls I juggle as a morah, wife, and mother exceed those of a rebbi who, generally speaking, isn’t dealing with the same number of responsibilities.
Every lesson I deliver is prepared with a baby on my lap, a child at my skirt. I plan lessons for school in between planning menus for Shabbos. After each birth, before fully recovering, I push my tired body back to the classroom (because there’s no paid maternity leave) and then back home to the wonderful chaos of caring for my children. At night when my baby is finally sleeping and I’m bone tired, I pick up a Navi to prepare the next perek. I’ve taught with the flu and strep because I use my own sick days for when my kids get sick. I confer with parents while driving or rushing through the grocery aisles, and grade tests in the orthodontist’s waiting room.
While most of these challenges are not unique to me as a morah, they are part of the reality of us working wives and mothers, and are challenges that most rebbeim don’t face to the same extent. I love the holy work that I do, but I’m confused about why parents demonstratively value their sons' rebbeim more than their daughters’ morahs. (And then we wonder what to do about the teacher shortage!)
One reader polled responded that teaching boys is harder, an assumption that actually makes me laugh out loud.
The last decade has seen the corporate world make strides in terms of closing the pay gap between the genders. Why are we as a community so far behind?
A Dedicated Morah
Take a Hard Look at It [Now We’re Talking / Issue 924]
I’m not a therapist or anything of the like, but can you allow me to respond to the mom who found the paper “Things My Mother Does That I Will Never Do?”
For a long time, as a teenager, I had such a list. I was saving it for when I get married, but one day, that paper disappeared. I feared my mother had found it. I prayed she didn’t. I turned my room over countless times in search for the paper, lest my mother find it and be hurt. I really didn’t want to hurt her.
Had she found it, this is what I wish someone would have told her:
Take a hard look at that list and then a harder look at yourself. We’re all human and all make mistakes, but maybe your daughter can point out some things that you really should change? My list said things like: Don’t fight with your husband in front of your children. Never speak negatively about your husband to your children. Hug your children. Tell them you love them.
There were lots of other important things on this list, but as I said, the list unfortunately disappeared. But I’m pretty sure that if someone were to give me that list today, I wouldn’t be guilty of most of it. Because I work hard every single day to make sure my kids don’t have a list like that. I’m sure there are other things I need to improve, and if my daughter were ever to make such a list, I hope I will find it so I can know what hurts her deeply and improve in those areas.
So if your daughter’s list consists of the simple things like, “I will never make my kids clean the kitchen,” and “I will never tell my kids to go to sleep,” then yes, laminate the list and hand it to her in 20 years. Teenagers are smart and as much as they kvetch about the mundane rules, they know deep down that Mommy is correct.
But if your teenager wrote a list, and the items on that list bother you enough that you’re devastated, something tells me there may have been real pressing issues on that list. So take that list, make a copy of it for yourself so you know what to work on, and put that list back, so your daughter can take it out herself in 20 years to work on the things that will make her a good mommy.
Name Withheld
Jerusalem
It Must Be Said [The Conversation Continues / Issue 924]
As a high school teacher and mother of teens applying for seminary, I completely agree that seminaries shouldn’t ask whether or not someone has been to therapy on the application form.
However, please let’s not skip the conversation. The devastating effects of pausing help and/or medication for a year or hiding it from the seminary… these all have frightening consequences I’ve seen firsthand.
Seminaries must be told that a girl is allergic to milk, has asthma, and yes, has any struggle that should be looked out for on the mental health front.
It should be said. It must be said. It can’t not be said.
But let’s talk about it in the same way we inquire about an allergy. How severe? Does she have an EpiPen? We must have a second one for the staff. Is it airborne? Not sure we can commit to going dairy-free in a dorm all year… it’s tough to control.
Same conversation: she has anxiety. Depression. Does she have a therapist? Can we hear what the plan of action is? Is it so severe that the consequences compromise safety? It’s going to be impossible to have eyes on her all the time.
Let’s talk in the same tone.
As parents, let’s be honest about what is and isn’t going on so that our children (and their roommates!) don’t suffer.
As teachers and seminaries: Let’s have an honest conversation with families, respectfully, and be willing to go the extra mile so that people will see that in most cases it’s a yes and the nos will be understood (versus the current system that is mostly nos with a few exceptions).
I’m fortunate to have been blessed with several daughters, and I have already had the privilege of sending a few to seminary in Israel. My first question is this: Is it really only some seminaries that ask about mental health? Because in my experience, they all do. And by the way, camps are no different. The reality is, you can’t simply “just say no.” Seminary applications include multiple questions about mental health, leaving no room for white lies — you must either tell the truth or lie outright.
Years ago, I was taught an important lesson about teaching the value of emes to my children. If I preach honesty to them but then turn around and lie about their age to get a discounted ticket, I’ve completely undermined my own message. The Torah is clear: There are specific situations where lying is permissible, but in all other cases, honesty is required.
As a parent of children who have been in therapy, I faced this dilemma the first time I encountered these questions on a seminary application. To navigate it, I sought advice from peers who work in or direct seminaries in Israel. Their consensus was this: If you lie on the application, the truth will eventually come out once your daughter arrives at seminary. At that point, we’ll not only be upset about being misled, but we’ll also view you as untrustworthy. On the other hand, if you’re honest about your daughter’s therapy, it shows that you, as parents, are actively invested in her growth and well-being, and we’ll see you as valuable partners in her success.
When my oldest daughter was in seminary, two of her roommates were struggling. Ironically, the one on medication managed the situation well, while the one who wasn’t caused challenges for others. In my experience, someone being in therapy often signals that they’re committed to self-improvement. Honestly, you should be more concerned about the girls who aren’t in therapy than the ones who are.
If you’re in a position to accept or reject girls for a school or camp, please consider this perspective: Would you rather work with a girl who has spent time understanding her struggles and learning coping mechanisms, or one who has ignored her issues and is suddenly thrust into a foreign country, living in close quarters with strangers, and navigating newfound independence? While no one can predict how someone will react to challenges, being in therapy doesn’t make a girl the weakest link. In fact, it might just mean she’s the one who will rise to the occasion and stand above the others.
S.G.
Los Angeles, CA
Both on the Journey [Windows / Issue 920]
I’m writing in reference to “A Prayer Answered,” Goldie Marks’s article about davening to lose weight, and then having a daughter who was wonderfully skinny but struggled socially with invisible challenges. I also have a child with invisible challenges, but what I specifically wanted to address was Goldie’s line near the end: “And maybe, I need to separate my own pain from theirs, because I am merely the shaliach blessed to raise them.”
Two of my most valued guides in my quest to support my child who, as Goldie puts it, “does not have special needs, but… doesn’t not have special needs,” each said the same thing, which I carry with me. Hashem has sent my child and me on a joint journey. This is not only about him, I’m not “merely a shaliach.” It’s more than that. This is about both of us together, growing along with each other.
Goldie’s past challenges are actually very much a part of her current parenting journey. So are mine and so are yours. Instead of negating ourselves and our experiences, we should realize that the package Hashem has sent us is all part of our own and our child’s development, all wrapped in one joint journey.
