“Everyone should understand that having pictures in the public domain means who sees them is out of your control”

It Isn’t About Control [Real Life / Issue 931]

I read “A Little Too Late” about a principal who publicly punished a first-grade student who she later found out had been experiencing abuse at the hands of a neighborhood boy, with a sense of horror and heartbreak. The story was absolutely bone-chilling.

However, while the article rightfully emphasizes the devastation of misunderstanding a child’s struggles, I was deeply disturbed by another element that seemed to go unquestioned: the principal’s method of chinuch.

It’s clear that before she discovered the tragic backstory, she had no qualms about humiliating a little girl in front of her classmates. Public shaming, even of a child who has no “hidden” struggle, isn’t merely a poor educational approach — it is a soul-crushing violation of basic human dignity. That the principal only regretted her actions after learning the full story suggests that, had there been no tragic backstory, she would have considered her approach perfectly acceptable.

This story serves as a stark reminder of the power of our words and assumptions. While many schools today have moved away from harsh disciplinary methods, it’s still important to reflect on how we address children’s struggles. True chinuch isn’t about control, but about guiding with compassion and treating every child with inherent respect.

Name Withheld

My Appreciation Files [Enduring Kindness / Issue 932]

When my eye catches the ad asking for reader submissions of small acts of kindness done for them, my brain automatically goes into thank-you gear. And it keeps turning, adding more people to my appreciation files, blossoming into my remembering:

My first-grade teacher, Miss Muller, who, impressed by my paragraph about our school trip, escorted me to the office to listen in to her nachas call to my mother. Revolutionary then — and a catalyst for my love of writing.

My high school teacher, Mrs. Bernstein, whom I called during my second year of teaching when struggling with a difficult decision. She gave me great advice, and gifted me a boost of confidence.

The La Leche League volunteer, Rivky Schwartz, gave me her time and heart when I struggled with nursing my first baby and continued to support me with all my children.

My cousin, Brocha Rivka, whom I wasn’t particularly close with, reached out to invite my little ones and me, stuck in the city heat, to frolic in the country sunshine for a week. (We’re tight ever since.)

My principal, Mrs. Zelishovsky, who is not only a master of chinuch, but also masters the art of chesed. She cooked a meal for my entire family when we sat shivah for my mother.

My student-turned-teacher living in Eretz Yisrael, an email away, who adds insight and chizuk to my life.

This list is far from complete. It doesn’t include close family.

But I’m thinking of them and I’m thanking. All of them — and Family First.

Hindy Kviat

Commendable Caution [Words Unspoken / Issue 930]

Dear Potential Daughter-in-Law,

I read with interest your letter to your potential mother-in-law. I wanted to let you know there are many potential mothers-in-law who appreciate your values and your tzniyus and who don’t request, nor look at, pictures of girls. In fact, there are numerous families with boys in shidduchim who are reluctant to consider girls who send out pictures with their résumés. (Many of those families even think carefully about considering girls whose parents asked for girls’ pictures for their older brothers when they were dating.)

You are right to be cautious about sending out pictures. Even WhatsApp’s “view once” feature isn’t foolproof. There is nothing to prevent anyone from taking an actual screenshot or photograph from another device of the “view once” picture and sending it out to “only one person,” who then forwards to another and another... and yes, the pictures often do end up being widely circulated.

Everyone should understand that having pictures in the public domain means who sees them is out of your control. And with contemporary AI and other technological advances to create fake photography and video from photographs, caution should be exercised before sending out face or body shots.

It would seem laudable to praise girls such as yourselves for upholding values of tzniyus and dignity and being cautious about sending out pictures. I’d urge you to speak with your rav, mentors, and trusted adults to pursue a path in this regard that makes sense for your community, age, and other contextual factors, and to act wisely considering your specific situation in shidduchim.

A Potential Mother-in-Law

You Can’t Have It All [Works for Me / Issue 930]

Thank you for a wonderful feature this week on different women’s journeys to their current careers. What made the article so interesting and enlightening is that it highlighted how each person had to prioritize what was most important to her in terms of her job.

In today’s world, so many seem to absorb the message that “you can have it all” — your work can be fulfilling, prosperous, and balanced all at the same time. You can have a flowering social life alongside time for yourself, your husband, and your kids.

In reality, we grow the most from areas in life where we have made difficult choices and sacrifices. As a favorite teacher of mine, Mrs. Rivka Foxbrunner, once told our class (paraphrased because it was 20 years ago), “When you choose, you will, by definition, need to sacrifice. To choose means to say yes to one thing and no to something else.”

Nowhere did this lesson serve me more than in the decision-ridden years of my early post-high school life. At this stage, there are so many decisions to be made — and they all involve sacrifice. This seminary doesn’t have what that one does, this college option can offer me the degree I want but I have no friends there, this boy has everything I’m looking for, except….

When I speak with 12th graders applying to seminary, I emphasize this point as much as I can: From here on, your life will be filled with many more choices than you have probably encountered until now. Don’t look for the perfect option, but instead, go into any decision aware of what you’re sacrificing for it — and why. That way when the growing pains hit, you’ll be able to recall the initial clarity you had that this is the path you wanted to take.

Mindel Kassorla

With Grace and Dignity [A Lasting Flame / Issue 930]

I’m writing in memory of my dear friend, Mrs. Marcy Stern, a woman whose warmth, wisdom, and authenticity left a lasting impact on everyone fortunate enough to know her. She reveled in people’s accomplishments and stood with them through their struggles, including her own. She faced her personal challenges and losses with grace, dignity, and an understanding that life’s meaning ran much deeper than outward appearances. She didn’t measure success by external markers like status or titles, but by the quiet, internal accomplishments of a person’s character — the kind of success that no one else might see but that truly matters.

I had the privilege of being close to Marcy. Despite falling into one or more of the categories that society might label as “less than,” I never, ever felt those labels in her presence. With Marcy, I wasn’t a category; I was simply me. When she complimented me, it was because she recognized something real and beautiful and wanted to acknowledge it. She saw me for who I was, without judgment. Our relationship was real, and defined by genuine connection.

Her ability to notice beauty — in people, in life, in even the smallest of things — was one of her many gifts. She thoroughly appreciated the beautiful things in life, whether it was a beautiful outfit, a stunning piece of jewelry, or an elegantly set up event. It felt as though she marveled at the creativity behind the beauty, appreciating the artistry and meaning woven into every detail.

Her belief in others was authentic, and it was magnetic.

Marcy had a rare ability to balance the deep and the lighthearted. Conversations with her could flow seamlessly from discussing life’s hardest challenges to something light, fun, and joyful. She could be serious and wise, yet so much fun and full of life.

Her family was her world, and they were shaped by the values and character she and her husband instilled in them. She never took that blessing for granted, holding deep gratitude for the family they built. She admired and adored each of her children, embracing them as gifts. To Marcy, her grandchildren were pure joy — each one a precious treasure she held close to her heart. Though she is no longer here, something of Marcy remains in each of her children — undeniable, lasting, and forever a part of them.

Marcy welcomed all kinds of people into her life with love and dignity, and her Shabbos table was a reflection of her open heart. For her, what mattered most was the person sitting across from her — their soul, their struggles, and their potential to grow.

Marcy, thank you for seeing me, believing in me, and showing me what it means to live a life of authenticity and purpose. I miss you deeply and will carry your memory with me always.

Touched forever,

Anonymous

It’s Not in Our Hands [Inbox/ Issue 930]

I was deeply disheartened to see the responses to the article about the woman, Rivka, who used Alan Gordon’s The Way Out approach to heal her wrists. The comments dismissing her experience and insisting that she should have gone to doctors or taken vitamins completely miss the bigger picture.

First and foremost — she got better. Isn’t that the most crucial fact? Whether one agrees with the method or not, the reality is that this woman found healing, and dismissing her journey because it doesn’t fit a preconceived notion of how healing should happen is both unkind and shortsighted.

Second, for those who argue that she should have sought traditional medical treatments — I’d assume that like most people dealing with chronic pain, she likely explored conventional approaches before arriving at this one. And yet, for whatever reason, this was what ultimately worked for her. To insist that she should have done something else ignores the reality that what she did worked.

But beyond all this, what disturbs me most is the failure to acknowledge the ultimate Source of healing — Hashem. Healing does not come from doctors, vitamins, or any single method; these are merely tools in the hands of the One Who truly heals. Hashem chooses how to bring about a person’s recovery — sometimes through medicine, sometimes through nutrition, and sometimes through an approach like the Sarno method. To insist that healing must come through one specific avenue is to overlook the fundamental truth that it is Hashem Who determines the means.

The Ludmir Family

What She Should Have Said [Second Guessing / Issue 930]

I’m writing in response to Chevs’s dilemma about whether or not she should have told her sister Penina that she can’t come to the family shabbaton with her sick son because she’s afraid her children would catch a virus from him and she’ll jeopardize a potential raise for taking off work to be with them.

Chevs says, “I really cannot, in good conscience, allow Penina to bring a sick Nachi into my home.”

She should have said, “I really cannot, in good conscience, disinvite Penina from my home. I should postpone the shabbaton to a later date when Nachi’s feeling better.”

Chevs says, “But what else could I have done? Put my job in jeopardy so that Penina can be part of things?”

She should have said, “How can I host a family shabbaton without Penina, Moshe, and Nachi being there? Perhaps the ‘desperately needed’ raise obsession is clouding my judgement? My priorities are out of whack. I’m placing too much importance on getting that imagined raise. It’s causing too much stress. I’m acting in a very selfish and self-centered way. Time for an attitude change and trust in Hashem that things will work out as they are meant to be.”

Chaya Dunayer

Men Who Don’t Have Sons [Inbox / Issue 930]

I’ve been following the conversation about single moms, specifically the Avos U’Banim program.

Here’s a thought: Perhaps communities could identify men who don’t have sons to learn with, either because they don’t have sons, or because they don’t have children, or because their sons don’t want to learn. These fathers could then be matched up with the boys who do not have a father to learn with. This could truly be a beautiful win-win in our community and perhaps establish a lasting relationship that is mutually beneficial.
Ruchi Koval

Jewish Family Experience

Cleveland, Ohio

A Problem Worth Solving [Words Unspoken / Issue 927]

In response to a girl who wrote a “Words Unspoken” saying she feels that only girls who break the rules are given attention, principal Rabbi Meir Kahane wrote that learning to keep rules is an integral lesson to life and she shouldn’t feel resentful that the girls who are breaking the rules are the ones being given attention.

I’m puzzled by this. It seemed to me that this girl wasn’t complaining about having rules per se, but about being overlooked because she’s dutifully following the rules, while her classmates who break the rules are heaped with attention and care.

I was one of those quiet, invisible good girls, and even though on the outside I kept the rules, on the inside I was struggling with them and longing for connection. The pattern continues to this day, even though I’m the mother of a family.

I see, even now, that there are no easy solutions. I have these dilemmas: Should I use social media for work if I’ll make more money? What about showing my kids videos when I’m overloaded? Should I sacrifice the time I give my kids to take on more hours of work because my husband is emotionally unwell and doesn’t bring in enough money?

These are some things I grapple with, but without an understanding rav (or even just a rav who has time, period) to ask who won’t just give pat answers and brush aside my pain, I don’t have guidance on how to deal with this.

I’m lucky that I had a good experience in high school with my limudei kodesh teachers who inspired me enough that I wouldn’t dream of dropping Yiddishkeit altogether — I’ve seen mothers of families doing just that — because I truly believe in the beauty of a frum life, but I’m starting to understand all the people who feel they can’t stay in the system.

So going back to the girl who wrote about her problems with the rules and how she silently keeps trying to keep them to perfection even though it’s hard, because she knows her principal wouldn’t understand and act compassionately if she slips up or expresses her problems — shouldn’t her concerns be taken seriously? She’s asking to please help her stay frum. She’s asking for the basic human needs of understanding, care, and connection to be met within the system so she doesn’t need to break the rules and look elsewhere for it.

Rules are good and necessary, but without an emotional connection backing them up, they’ll have the opposite effect of their purpose. Shouldn’t there be a way to pay attention to students just for being who they are and not because they’ve turned into a big problem?

I’m not saying the rules always need to be changed, tailored, or even tweaked to suit every girl’s personal needs, but my hunch is that having an adult listening and understanding them will be enough to help girls keep rules willingly, without feeling like they need to break them as a cry for attention. And while I understand that a principal might be stretched thin to personally take care of this issue, it doesn’t mean there isn’t a problem here worthy of being solved.

I hope this problem won’t be glazed over by the principals and those of influence out there.

Name Withheld

Rabbi Kahane responds:

Thank you very much for your meaningful comment. The point you brought up is, indeed, important and worthy of attention.

What you describe is very painful. Feeling like there is no one to relate to you as an individual can hurt a lot.

I encourage you not to give up on finding a spiritual guide who can help you navigate the personal challenges you speak of and I respect and applaud your interest in doing so. Something to consider is that, in many ways, a rebbetzin can be more helpful than a rav. Of course, they, as well, will have time constraints. But often their day is structured in a way that allows for more time and understanding than a rav. A competent rebbetzin will obviously consult a rav when needed.

There is also another thing to keep in mind. There is a difference between a lack of attention and a lack of care. While attention and care often go together, a person can still care deeply about somebody and not give them enough attention and the reason is often technical. We’re living at a time in world history when Torah education is at an unprecedented high. The number of people interested in spiritual guidance — whether students in a classroom or community members — is record-breaking and a tribute to the miraculous growth of Torah and Torah communities in our generation. However, in some ways we are victims of our own success and can’t keep up with ourselves. Our classrooms are packed and there aren’t enough schools. Our super-talented, incredibly caring teachers and rabbanim are spread very thin and, at times, sadly, there are those who fall through the cracks. Understanding that lack of attention doesn’t necessarily translate into a lack of care can be a helpful reframing to pad the difficult circumstance.

In addition, parents can be very helpful to a child who isn’t getting sufficient attention in school by reframing it for them and explaining that their teacher is trying to give as much love as possible to every student and it’s challenging.

Thank you for your insight. Hashem should give you much siyata d’Shmaya.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 932)