When I was making my bar mitzvah last year, Chava Hirschman went shopping for my girls’ socks. I’d reached the point of stressed out where it was very clear that if, I would soon no longer be fit to be principal of Toras Imecha, and I guess Chava, ninth grade history and English teacher extraordinaire, picked up on that, because she asked me to give her the next two things on my to-do list, which were call the tablecloth rental and confirm pickup, and go sock shopping for the girls.

Kind and funny and selfless is Chava. And she’s a great teacher, the girls love her, even the ones who say they’ve sworn off history and English.

“What about Chava?” I ask slowly, bringing my coffee to my lips as I try to stall. I can’t put my finger on it, but somehow, I don’t see Chava in Goldy’s position.

“Why don’t we tap her for tenth grade?” Miriam answers. “She’s been asking for more teaching time, and I know she’d love a limudei kodesh position. She mentioned it to me a few times, you know she taught Navi and parshah before she came here. She can still do history and English, so it’ll be a win-win, I think,” Miriam says.

I’m listening. I hear her. It’s an idea. But I’m not sure if it’s motivated by the fact that this would eliminate the need for a résumé hunt.

“I love Chava,” I say carefully. “She’s a wonderful woman and a great teacher. But tenth grade Chumash is a huge responsibility, and it extends beyond the classroom. Chava’s an excellent teacher, she’s engaging, interesting, and the girls definitely find her ‘relatable.’ But will she be able to handle the additional workload? She’s already so busy.”

Not to mention her chronic lateness. Our teachers are required to be in school one period before their first class — it helps them get settled and focused so they’re not rushing into class, and we pay them for the extra period. But with Chava, I’d had to turn it into two periods early. I was never sure how much that lateness reflected on her overall ability to handle responsibility.

But I don’t say this to Miriam, who’s sitting across from me, biting her lip, thinking. The next bell rings. I take a gulp of coffee and resign myself to looking for a new Chumash teacher.

But Miriam isn’t done.

“Why don’t we try her out, at least,” she says.

I can tell from her tone that she’s still formulating her idea.

“Leah Nussbaum was going to take over yearbook until Shevy Shuss returned from maternity leave. But now….”

Now that Leah is a kallah…. She’d come to me yesterday, very apologetic, asking if she could give up the yearbook. Her engagement was going to be short, just eight weeks, and she didn’t think she’d be able to give the girls her all when she needed that time for shopping and wedding planning.

“Chava said she’s looking for more hours. Maybe let’s start with this. It’s only four weeks, so it might be a good gauge as to whether she can handle it. We can talk about the Chumash job afterward.”

I roll the corner of Goldie’s resignation letter as I think about this. The idea holds merit even if yearbook coordinator and Chumash teacher have almost nothing in common.

“It wouldn’t be a given, though,” I finally say to Miriam. “It’s not like if she manages the yearbook, Goldie’s job is hers.”

“Of course not,” Miriam says, nodding. “But Goldie’s move is probably public knowledge now that she’s given us notice. So— hameivin yavin.”

I give a tired smile at Miriam’s use of this high school favorite. I love my job, but I do not love this part of it.

I’M still thinking about Miriam’s idea two days later, on my way back to my office after a yearbook meeting. So far, with Shevy out and Leah’s opting out, I’m the acting substitute. It’s a principal’s job.

It’s early, only 11 in the morning, so I’m surprised to see Chava waiting for me at the door to my office. She’s schmoozing with Tovi, our wonderful secretary, and she flushes slightly as she sees me.

“Do you have time now, Rivka?” she asks, sounding nervous.

I give her a big smile. “Sure, Chava, come in.”

She sits in the chair opposite my desk and wipes her hand on her skirt. Is this Chava Hirschman? I frown, then decide to make whatever it is she wants easier for her.

“Did I ever tell you that I wish I’d had a teacher like you when I was younger? I see how you make the girls really love history and English. You’re amazing with them.” I mean it, too.

Chava waves her hand in an “Oh, stop,” gesture, but the compliment seems to settle her.

“I wanted to ask you, Rivka,” she says, “I heard about Goldie’s move im yirtzeh Hashem, and—”

My heart sinks, because of course I know what she’s going to say. And even though I’ve thought of nothing else but Miriam’s idea, I haven’t had enough time to decide if it’s a good one. There’s a sinking sensation in my heart, a principal’s instinct honed from years of experience. I focus on Goldie’s resignation letter, still sitting on my desk, the corners all curled up in nervous rolls.

“Listen, Chava,” I say. “I’m not sure about the Chumash position.” I say it gently, but she still looks slightly crushed. “But twelfth grade is getting started on their yearbook. Such a milestone, I can’t even think about it,” I look up with a smile. “I’m always amazed at how the girls come so far in such a short time, really.” I pause, contemplating. Can it be only four years since Rena Sendler caused that flood in ninth grade when the water main was off and she’d opened every faucet?

“So I was thinking, you’re looking for more hours. What about filling in as yearbook coordinator for the next month, until Shevy Shuss comes back from maternity leave. Leah Nussbaum was going to take over, but baruch Hashem, she’s busy with other things now.”

Chava’s mouth is open. I can’t tell if that’s a good sign or not.

“How does that sound?” I ask.

“Rivka! Thank you so much!” Chava exclaims. “I would love to step in for Shevy. Yearbook! Wow, I have so many ideas already. This sounds fantastic.”

I smile at the enthusiasm. “I’m so glad, Chava, I think you’ll be great at it.” I really do. But there’s more to it than being creative. “The next meeting is on Wednesday, during morning recess. That’s where I’m coming from, actually,” I say with a little laugh. “And then we have exactly one month until Shevy comes back. We need to finalize the theme and all the feature ideas.”

Chava nods. “I’m thinking already,” she says, reaching into her bag for a pen and… a receipt from The Cellar.

“Uh, would you like a piece of paper?”

She grins. “Nah! I’m good. Okay, got it. Rivka, you will not regret this.” She looks up. “But I still do want to talk about Chumash.”

I nod. “I hear you, Chava. We’ll be in touch.”

I watch her leave, a faint pressure rising in the “eleven” between my eyebrows. My stress spot. Apparently, my intuition does not feel strongly about Chava Hirschman’s new assignment. In retrospect, I guess, I didn’t agree with Miriam here.

But Chava surprises me. I pass her hanging up her coat in the teachers’ room bright and early on Wednesday morning, and from the laughter coming out of the classroom where she holds the first meeting, it’s clear that the yearbook committee is crazy for her.

The complaints started trickling in at week two. “Mrs. Hirschman isn’t here; do you know when she’s coming in?” I hear one of the girls asking Miriam.

And when I ask one of the committee heads how it’s going — the girls always love to talk about their jobs — she frowns, and says, “I came up with four theme options, but Mrs. Hirschman didn’t choose one yet.”

And then comes the phone call from Shevy Shuss. “Hi Rivka, how are you?”

“Baruch Hashem, Shevy, how are you feeling? I can hear the cutie in the background, I hope she’s giving you nights.”

Shevy laughs. “It’s so funny how different a baby girl is. I figured it’d be the same as the three boys, a baby is a baby, but I don’t know, it’s not.”

I laugh, because I know how much Shevy had been hoping for a girl. “Yes, daughters are special.”

“Speaking of,” Shevy says, “I’m just concerned about the yearbook? Shifra Ben Porat mentioned that no one is finalizing the theme? I’m just a little apprehensive that there’s a major workload waiting for me when I get back. It’s making me anxious.”

Oh boy, why is my intuition always right?

“Shevy,” I say firmly, “You go back to that baby and do not think about this again until your return. I’m serious. I will take care of this. And no, don’t worry, there will be no overload of work awaiting you.”

We schmooze another minute, and then I hang up, annoyed. What is so hard about picking a theme for yearbook? Why couldn’t Chava get it done?

Truthfully, I’m also annoyed at myself. This was my initial instinct, and I should have trusted myself and my experience. Chava is a great history and English teacher, but she just isn’t suited to take on so many more hours or such a central position.

I want to be able to accommodate people, and I firmly believe that people rise to the occasion when their choices and preferences are taken into account. I’ve seen this so many times with the girls and their 12th-grade jobs. And Chava seemed so excited about the yearbook position. But if she can’t even take over a tiny, part-time yearbook job for a maternity leave, how will she handle the full responsibility of being a mainstay teacher?

I shake my head. Forget Chumash. In the meantime, we need to get the yearbook done.

I call Chava that night. “How are you?”

She sounds tired. “Not great, baruch Hashem. Batsheva was dating someone seriously, and it just ended, so there’s a lot going on here.”

“I’m sorry,” I murmur. Honestly, I’m just relieved that there’s something concrete behind Chava’s lack of responsibility with the yearbook. “Batsheva’s such a fantastic girl, and she’s a real credit to Toras Imecha. She should have so much hatzlachah.”

“Thank you.”

“The thing is, Chava, we’re really behind on yearbook.”

Chava sighs. “Oy, I’m so sorry, Rivka! I love working with the girls on it, and we have a fantastic vision planned. They really connected to my idea of a water theme. How they needed rain to help them grow, and we’re tying it into Torah is compared to mayim, and how their lives should be filled with shefa…. It’s going to be gorgeous. This parshah with Batsheva was all-consuming these past few weeks, but don’t worry, we’re going to come through.”

We’re going to come through? Look, I get that Batsheva’s dating is important, but this is Chava’s job. Yearbook planning is not a hobby that she can put aside until she has more time. There’s also the matter of her lateness, which persisted these past few weeks. She committed to this, and there are clear parameters that need to be met, Batsheva dating or not. Life is always going to be going on, and — barring actual emergencies — a teacher can’t allow life’s challenges to get in the way of her responsibility to her students.

I convey this nicely, but firmly.

“You’re right,” Chava says quietly. “I’m sorry, Rivka. I’ll get back to the committee right away, b’ezras Hashem.”

The next day, I put out a call for a new tenth grade Chumash teacher. I debate for a minute about whether to warn Chava, but what is there to say, really? I’d said it all last night.

Chava doesn’t seem to think so, though. She comes in a few days later, the tops of her cheeks bright red.

“I thought you were going to consider me for the position,” she says with none of the nervousness she’d displayed when she originally asked for the job.

I don’t say anything, I just look pointedly at my desk, where the yearbook folder that almost didn’t make it in time sits prominently.

“Because of the yearbook?” she whispers. “A temporary, extracurricular job? That’s how you assessed whether I would do well at a permanent teaching position? That’s not fair, Rivka, and more than that, it’s wrong. If you’re looking at performance, look at my actual job.”

I don’t say anything back. I just hear echoes of the yearbook committee’s laughter, and I imagine her painstakingly matching up socks to my girls’ dresses. I feel terrible.

But I had to look out for the good of my school. And I don’t think Chava Hirschman was it. Right?

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(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 920)