This week’s story is about a fictional character, but is really about all of us.

Viktor Krup was a smart kid and a model student. He took his schoolwork seriously, but also set aside plenty of time for fun. Viktor was an expert hockey player, he loved to ride his bicycle for hours at a time with his friends, and enjoyed playing Minecraft. Viktor also liked to read, hang out with his siblings, and watch the occasional movie. All this considered, Viktor had a pretty enjoyable life and was a generally happy kid.

When Viktor and his family had to quarantine due to the coronavirus, he still seemed happy, with plenty at home to keep him occupied. Viktor spent more time playing Minecraft, reading, and playing games with his siblings. However, Viktor experienced a big shock with how difficult school became for him. In school, Viktor had no problem paying attention and generally understood everything his teachers taught. He usually did not need to study much, which is why he had time for all of his hobbies. Now, learning remotely, everything changed.

The first few days he had class on Zoom, Viktor could not pay attention for more than two minutes at a time. He was listening to each of his teacher’s words, but couldn’t focus on what they meant. Viktor tried taking notes, but didn’t really know how (he usually understood and remembered everything without it), and he quickly fell behind. Considering that Viktor was a proud student, he was embarrassed to ask his teachers for help; he didn’t even tell his parents how difficult learning had become.

Fortunately, Viktor’s teachers knew him well. Almost immediately they noticed that Viktor didn’t seem like himself during class. After just a few days of class, three of Viktor’s teachers had contacted his parents to see if Viktor was okay. “I think he is,” responded his mother to Viktor’s math teacher, Dr. Bagman. “We are both working, so it’s hard to know for sure, but Viktor has told us learning on Zoom has been going well. He said he doesn’t enjoy it as much, but he said nothing about struggling.” Mr. Krup agreed. “Normally we notice when Viktor is frustrated with something. But he has been his regular self when not in his room for school. He could be hiding it, of course. We will talk to him.”

Shabbat was set to arrive two days later, so Viktor’s parents decided to wait until then to talk to him. Meanwhile, they discussed the best way to raise the topic with Viktor. From past experience, they knew how Viktor often reacts when they imply he needs help. “I don’t want him to get angry and storm off like last time,” said Viktor’s father. “It took us three days just to get him to talk after that.” While he stopped to think, Viktor’s mother offered a suggestion. “Maybe, instead of bringing it up to Viktor, we can get him to bring it up himself. At the Shabbat table, I can mention that a few of my best students (Mrs. Krup was a teacher) are having trouble learning on Zoom. I can even mention a few reasons why this might be. Maybe Viktor will realize that his struggles are nothing to be embarrassed about.” Viktor’s father thought that this was an excellent idea and they decided on this approach.

That Friday night, Viktor’s parents found themselves alone at the dinner table with Viktor. (His younger siblings were either “resting” on the couch or running around like maniacs in the basement.) So, as planned, Viktor’s mother began the conversation with Mr. Krup. “You know, Igor, teaching on Zoom has been very interesting. I have a few students who are normally the best in the class, but they are really struggling.” “Interesting, Maxine,” responded Viktor’s father, as he continued in a very slow, clear, and not-suspicious-at-all voice. “If it was one student, I might say it’s about him, but—” A weird expression crossed Viktor’s face. “Daddy, don’t you mean ‘her?’ Mommy only teaches girls.” His father smiled and continued. “Right if it was one student, I might say it’s about her, but if it’s a few students, it probably has something to do with Zoom and has nothing to do with how smart they are. Viktor, you agree, eh?” Viktor laughed. “Dad, I love you, but sometimes you are really weird. I’m gonna go check on the kids in the basement.”

With that opportunity wasted, Viktor’s parents needed a new plan. They decided to discuss it after the kids, including Viktor, went to sleep. Meanwhile, they began to discuss the parsha while Viktor and his siblings played tackle baseball in the basement. When they got to the part when the nesi’im, the leader of each tribe, offered wagons as a gift to the Mishkan, Viktor’s mother asked an interesting question. “Why did Hashem have to tell Moshe ‘kach me’itam—take the wagons from them?’ Did Moshe think the wagons might be a bad idea? Wouldn’t it have helped carrying the parts of the Mishkan much easier?” At this point, Viktor returned to the table, his cheeks all red, and poured himself a glass of cold water. Viktor’s mother repeated the question for him as he drank.

While listening to his wife repeating the question, a huge smile passed across Viktor’s father’s face. “What’s with the smile, Igor?” He turned to face Viktor and his wife. “Maxine, I just remembered hearing an answer to this question. Viktor, let me know what you think. The wagons, which carried the Mishkan from place to place, represent the times a Jew is not in his or her normal environment. When a Jew is feeling disconnected, he or she might feel guilty. Now, when you think something is your fault, your first instinct is to want to fix it yourself. This was Moshe’s feeling. Why do we need wagons to support us when we are traveling through the desert? Let us deal with the difficulty of travel on our own! However, Hashem taught Moshe that the opposite is true; difficult times are when we need support. Not only that, but difficulty isn’t always our fault. Being outside of our normal environment—like when traveling in the desert—is automatically challenging, no matter how talented each of us might be. We should feel comfortable accepting help in these situations. Offers to help are our wagons, about which Hashem tells us to accept them.”

After hearing this dvar Torah, Viktor smiled sheepishly, and started to speak. “Well, actually, Mom and Dad…”