Since not many of us opt for the former, yeshivas must scramble to find minimally qualified candidates, and generally wind up with kids just out of seminary who have no intention of pursuing teaching as a long-term career. The turnover rate tends to be extremely high; how many teachers do you know who last more than 5 years in the same school? This situation benefits no one, and further underscores our problematic attitude toward teaching and the treatment of teachers. Even the most idealistic of teachers will burn out after a few years of being mistreated and grossly underpaid.
Worse still, many yeshivas content themselves with constantly rotating a staff of untrained, uncommitted neophytes. Their main concern is not with hiring and retaining the best teachers money can buy, but with hiring the lowest bidder. The assumption is that all teachers are pretty much the same and anyone can teach Chumash and Rashi. This couldn’t be more wrong, and goes a long way toward explaining why our generation is ignorant of the fundamentals of Judaism and generally apathetic, if not cynical and turned off.
You get what you pay for, and many yeshivas insist on paying for glorified babysitters and entrusting them with the minds and souls of our children. Even yeshivas that value professional training expect the world of their teachers yet neglect to compensate accordingly. It’s just not realistic.
This leads us to the other problem mentioned above: the disorganization and lack of professionalism that are all too characteristic of many yeshivas. One of the high-ranking administrators at Yeshiva University advises not to bother applying to yeshivas until after Pesach – otherwise it’s guaranteed (instead of just likely) that the school will lose the résumé. Indeed, the lack of professionalism and basic derech eretz that teaching applicants regularly encounter in yeshiva administrators is astounding, and can fill an entire column all by itself.
If one suspects these are merely the gripes of a disgruntled teacher, I invite you to consider your own experiences with your neighborhood yeshiva. Is the atmosphere one of warmth and sensitivity, of dignity and respect for all people? Do you feel the appropriate people have the time and interest for you and your children when there is a problem or a concern? Are you comfortable approaching them, or apprehensive? Do you in your heart of hearts believe your local yeshiva would go out of its way to help you and your child, even if you have nothing special to offer? (Anyway, shouldn’t your child’s neshama be the most special thing you can offer?)
I know, I know – there isn’t enough time or money to be there for everyone. So they say, and to a certain extent it’s true. But do the powers-that-be at your yeshiva come across as empathetic and truly distressed that they can’t do more for you and your child, or are they anxious to be rid of you and your issues? How detrimental to our community is it when institutions that purport to transmit Torah to children are not truly warm and caring places with dignity and respect for all?
If those running some of our institutions are too harried and overburdened to find a moment for basic derech eretz, perhaps they are the ones who need to be replaced. Perhaps they need to rethink why they entered the world of chinuch in the first place – was it not to be involved in Torah and chesed during normal business hours?
