From a Student Who Has Healed from a Broken Past

Growing up in Crown Heights in the 80’s and 90’s as a child of Bal Teshuva parents, I lived through some colorful years.

I remember having lots of confidence at the age of four and five, running around happy as can be. But slowly, over the years, that fun, energetic, happy, confident boy grew insecure and lacked self-esteem.

As I look back following hours of therapy aimed at figuring out what had happened to me, a few incidents stand out vividly in my mind. I chose to share my story because perhaps there is something we could all learn from my experience.

I was in fourth grade and felt lost, overwhelmed in face of homework and other academic demands. My parents did the best they could to help. However, since I learned in Yiddish at school, my mother and father’s best efforts went only so far. I had plenty of tutors, yet I was just getting by.

In the middle of the year, sitting at my desk on the far side of the classroom, I found myself spacing out, or I would disturb the teacher a bit. One day, my Rebbe turned to me and called out, in front of the whole class, “Rosenberg, when are you going to learn a Jewish word? The class fell silent. Everyone gazed at me. I shrunk into myself, but I had nowhere to run to and nowhere to hide. This is the most vivid memory–perhaps the only memory–I carry with me from that year. It’s not like I wanted to disturb the class, and it’s not like I enjoyed failing tests. I just couldn’t keep up.

The following year, I struggled even more, and at the end of 5th grade, I was left back while all my friends went on to 6th grade. I remember the first two weeks of repeating 5th grade, everyone asking, How come you’re not with your class? What was I supposed to say, This was the decision my principal made at a meeting with my parents? For better or worse, I was left feeling like a loser, a failure, a laughing stock of the school.

Fast forward to 8th grade. I had a teacher who noticed that, once again, I was falling behind. He sat down with me privately, looked me in the eyes, and said, Chaim, what can I do to help you pass the tests? I remember telling him it’s impossible. He said, If you get a 90, I will buy you anything you want. I repeated, It’s absolutely impossible.

There has to be a way, he responded. I will not give up on you.
So I thought for a little while, and I said, If I ask a question, will you answer it? He said yes.

The next day, after he had explained a concept in gemara, I raised my hand and asked him to clarify. Which part? he asked. The whole thing, I responded. So the class waited while he patiently explained the gemara to me. Then, at recess, we spent time further discussing the topics of his shiur. He also arranged for me to learn with classmates who had the patience to help me.

Halfway through the year, I was getting hundreds on all my tests. I went from being the loser to the top of the class. BH, these days, I’m living with my wife and children on Shlichus, teaching many classes, and trying to inspire others to live a life of Torah and mitzvos as well.

Everyone knows that being a teacher is a tremendous zechus and a tremendous responsibility. I don’t blame my fourth grade teacher for embarrassing me in front of my classmates. I probably pushed him to the limit, and he humiliated me as a reaction. Who knows what was happening in his personal life? Being a teacher is hard. I know because I was a teacher for a year before I went on Shlichus. I have tremendous respect for teachers–who are often overworked and underpaid–and believe we need to give them far more credit and applause than they usually receive.

At the same time, witnessing the stark contrast between the approach of my fourth grade teacher and that of my 8th grade teacher taught me a great lesson. When we see a child struggling, especially a child struggling with behavioral issues, our first thought might be to dismiss them, to see them as detrimental to the rest of the class. However, in my most desperate moment, when I felt outmatched by learning challenges and ready to give up on myself, my eighth grade teacher taught me to ask questions, to make a personal connection, and not to take no for an answer.

Every child wants to succeed, every child wants to feel accomplished, and every child wants to learn. A teacher who thinks creatively, demonstrates empathy, and goes the extra mile for a student will change that student’s life–and, perhaps, the lives of the student’s descendants for generations to come.

As noted, teachers might have the hardest job in the world. They often encounter resistance and may feel burnt out at times. However, when teachers take some small extra steps, it can make a world of difference. Because of my own experiences as a student, when I was a teacher, I tried to keep this in mind. For example, I kept a special column in my rule book where I put a check next to every child’s name once I had complimented him in front of the class for something I saw him do well. And at recess, I would call each child over at least once a month and ask them how things were going with their friends, how things were going in school, and how things were going at home to show the child that I cared not just about their learning but about their overall well-being as well.

Thank you,
From a Student Who Has Healed from a Broken Past