More stories and insights from a veteran educator.
I have heard many stories from parents and educators about
how they were sometimes not conscious of a student's true
character; how they were mistaken about his potential.
For example, one teacher at the end of the school year told
the father of an eighth-grader, "Your son is just not capable
of studying gemora. Don't enroll him in a yeshiva. You
should instead find a vocational school for him, and maybe
some day he'll be a good shoemaker. He is simply not cut out
for gemora. It's a waste of time for him to even try.
I'm telling you firmly: Don't dare put him in a yeshiva!"
Luckily the father did not listen to that teacher's "wise"
advice. He enrolled his son in a yeshiva where the boy's
particular maggid shiur was aware of his son's good
character traits, his modesty, his quiet and refined
behavior. Do you know what that boy, who was sized up as
being a sure failure in his Torah studies, does today? He is
a successful rosh yeshiva of a yeshiva gedola
in chutz la'aretz. This talmid chochom has
already authored several seforim full of excellent,
profound interpretations of the gemora.
How great a responsibility teachers have! Who knows how many
roshei yeshivos our nation has lost because of
evaluating children improperly.
One prominent talmid chochom told me that his Rebbe in
the last year of cheder was excessively strict and
would frequently use corporal punishment if the children did
not toe the line. The students openly called him a cruel man.
Because of him, at the end of the school year more than half
of the class did not continue in yeshivos. All the
explanations in the world will do no good here. Should the
role model presented by a Torah mechanech look like
that?
One "mechanech" started the year with twenty- four
talmidim. He was unrelenting in his demand for
excellence and would remark bitterly to other teachers such
things as "Reuven is rotten to the core. Shimon is a
mannerless brat. Levi is . . . ." The staff members would
tell him that he was judging his students incorrectly and
argued with him a great deal. He, of course, always
maintained that he was a hundred percent right. "How can a
child act like that? How can he be so brash, so spoiled, such
a liar?" By the end of the school year many students had
dropped out of his class, and the uncompromising teacher
remained with only eight out of twenty-four
talmidim.
When he saw the results and wondered what had happened, he
approached a talmid chochom with a short question:
"Should I continue teaching?" The answer was an empathic
"NO!" He left teaching and forever regretted how he had acted
during that year.
As a person engaged in chinuch I know this to be a
fact of life: Through love we can succeed much more than
through rebuke. Even the most difficult students can be won
over with sincere affection. It is of the utmost importance
to show students we care for them, for example, by talking at
length with each one. They must sense tangibly that the Rav
and the teacher are fond of them and that the educational
staff is only interested in their benefit. They will then
understand why the teachers insist that the students listen
attentively during the classes, thoroughly review what was
taught, and behave properly. Open affection can move even the
hardest child. A "heavy hand" and harsh punishments only ruin
the child, and sometimes produce animosity toward the Rav and
teacher and even general hatred for studying Torah,
Rachmono litzlan.
I am acquainted with many students who were changed
dramatically by love and private talks. Naturally, we are not
talking about an especially bad student who spoils others.
Undoubtedly, to bring students nearer to Torah in this way
one must have measureless patience and use way-above-par
kochos hanefesh. But this is our solemn duty and
obligation in chinuch. We must consider each student
daily, and if we detect any signs of distress we should call
him over to one side and ask him: "How are you doing? What's
new with you? What's bothering you?"
Such intimate talks establish a deep-rooted bond with the
talmid. If we do not take an interest in the students,
it can turn out that the teacher will not be acquainted with
them at all. He will not have any connection with them and
will be unable to help any lack of progress in their studies.
Not talking with students creates indifference and coldness
between the student and teacher.
The above guidance is relevant for parents too. A father and
mother must also be educators! They must examine their
children's progress, talk with them a great deal and, when
they see their children are in a bad mood, ask them what has
happened, what is bothering them, and try to encourage them.
Many times boys and girls became irreligious because parents
were unaware of what was happening to them and therefore did
not try to prevent their spiritual downfall. Of course, this
did not happen suddenly, but only after losing ground many
times, and it all started from apparently trivial matters.
Now when they want to stop and ask what has happened it is
already much too late.
It is important to emphasize that a father must fully realize
that besides being a father he needs to be an educator for
his children. He must maintain constant contact with his son,
so that the son will feel that his father loves him and is
interested in helping him, that he is his best friend. When
their relationship is fashioned in such a way the boy gladly
tells his father when every small crisis comes along and
accepts his father's advice. If their relationship is weak,
although they live together, no real bond exists between
them. That is terrible. I know of cases where the son claimed
the father does not take any interest in him at all.
I once asked an avreich who seemed incapable of being
serious, why he behaves in such a way. He answered: "Believe
me, I am a tzaddik compared to what I might have
become. My father never spoke warmly to me. He always yelled
at me, never had even one good word for me, including the day
of my bar mitzvah and my wedding. I am not
exaggerating, not by one word. I am sorry to say that not
once did he try to encourage me. I wanted so much to hear a
compliment from him, some encouragement; but I never got to
hear it. A single good word would have helped me a lot. If,
after going through such a childhood, I remain a religious
Jew, it is a real miracle.
"I once told my father when he screamed at me, `How can you
have any complaints against me? How much time did you invest
in me?' How I missed moral support, a kiss from my
father!"
How distressing it was to hear from a son that he waited
years for a good word from his father, a sign of his
affection, a kiss -- but never received it.
This case is not an exception to the rule. Unfortunately, I
know of many such cases. In one case, in chutz
la'aretz, a frum father suddenly heard that his
daughter would soon be marrying a secular Jew. At that point
he knew no more than before how to act properly and he
started screaming at her. When he saw this did not help he
tried an opposite approach. He told her, "I'll buy golden
jewelry and diamonds for you if . . ."
But the daughter answered: "Father, it is too late.
Throughout the years I never felt at all that I have a father
who loves me. You never had any connection with me."
Some fathers think that the chinuch of children does
not require any effort. Sad to say, those fathers lose their
children. Unknowingly they are being cruel to their children
and talmidim, but being a shogeig does not
release them from their responsibility. According to the
Torah, a mature person is always fully responsible for what
he does. In addition, a father cannot simply treat his son in
whatever way he wants.
An experienced Torah educator once told me: "When I am about
to rebuke a student I shut my eyes and think candidly whether
I would yell at my son in such a circumstance. How would I
shout at him, and what would I say? When I finally decide
that I would act the same with my own child, I pray to
HaKodosh Boruch Hu to help me succeed in properly
fulfilling my duty of rebuking and educating others."
