During my years in Yeshiva Shaarei Torah, a mentally unstable fellow named Moshe would at times circulate the yeshiva. At times he even sat in on a high-level Gemara shiur and would offer his (nonsensical) comments. He was a pleasant person, so no one was too bothered by him.
On one occasion, a group of high school boys were making a video about earthquakes, part of a project for their earth science class. They interviewed Moshe and asked him where he thought the best place to be is in case of an earthquake. He thought for a second and replied, “You really want to know? Yerushalayim!”
What about during a power outage? What’s the last place you’d like to be in if the electricity goes out? I would venture to think a moving elevator. Getting stuck in a cramped dark confined room with no idea of what’s happening outside can undoubtedly be panic provoking.
A few years ago, when I was the social worker in Yeshiva Bais HaChinuch, that is exactly what happened. One afternoon, a powerful fast-moving storm crossed our area and knocked out the electricity. At first no one realized that someone was stuck in the elevator. But shortly after, two burly equipped firemen hastily entered the building, pickaxes in hand and headed toward the sealed elevator.
A crowd of excited students gathered in the dark hall and listened as one of the firemen rapped on the door and called out. Pressing his ear to the door, the fireman was able to hear a woman respond that she was trapped in the elevator. She had been heading up to the offices on the top floor when the power went out. The elevator was stuck halfway between the floor beneath the yeshiva and the floor that the yeshiva occupied.
It took the firemen a few minutes, but they soon pried the doors open and helped pull the woman out of the elevator to the excited applause of the young spectators who were then shooed back into their classrooms.
Later that week, I attended the Chumash seudah of our son Avi, who then was concluding pre-1A. It was a beautiful event with his numerous classmates seated alongside him on stage. It was stirring to see how each of the children sang on cue, bellowing passionately the words of the Chumash and the songs they were taught about the sweetness of Torah.
I thought to myself then that there was not a child up on that stage who didn’t want to ascend the rungs of Torah greatness and be a source of nachas for his parents and teachers. But unfortunately, in every class there are a few students whose growth “gets stuck.” They feel shut out and stuck in place even as they watch classmates continue to rise. There are many labels used to explain those individual power outages, ranging from auditory processing, ADHD, dyspraxia, dyslexia, low IQ, lack of motivation, social/emotional/familial issues, etc. But the common denominator is that those stuck children often cry out wordlessly and inaudibly.
Then there are those special educators who can hear those cries and have the unique priceless gift to be able to reach every student. They are the ones who can pry open those sealed doors and manually hoist their students toward feeling a sense of accomplishment.
There isn’t an educator in any of our schools who isn’t a hero. Teaching is the most valuable and integral profession we have, despite the fact that teachers are often underpaid and underappreciated. But those educators who can reach students deemed “unreachable” are our superheroes.
In a couple of weeks, iy”H, that little pre-1Aer that I mentioned earlier will be graduating high school from our yeshiva, Heichal HaTorah. I’m not sure where the years have gone.
But as the school year comes to a close and as his high school experience comes to a close, let’s take a moment to salute the greatest heroes we have, the ones with whom we have entrusted the education of our greatest treasures!