What is a task you studiously avoid? Do you dread organizing your garage? Do you let financial paperwork pile up? Or, like me, do you repeatedly delay (minor) dental surgery? What is it about these chores that make us run and hide? Is there anything we can do about it?

Young or old, we typically gravitate toward activities and pursuits that feel comfortable, where we know we can contribute and walk away feeling good. In school, children are drawn to the subjects where they feel most competent, and they end up nurturing these comfort zones and becoming ever more competent in them.

But there is a downside to developing depth rather than breadth. The risk is that if a young student avoids his most challenging area in school, it may eventually become his “scary subject.” This won’t happen overnight. But by the time some children reach high school, it’s common to hear “ I can’t do….” (You fill in the blank.) These students feel threatened by their least favorite subjects and don’t believe in themselves enough to give them a try.

I have seen students become so uncomfortable when their weakest subject is being taught that they find a reason to leave the classroom. They are so intimidated by the awkwardness of not knowing, that they inadvertently surrender the opportunity to achieve. What can we do to help nervous students realize that they not only belong in the classroom, but that they can also thrive in it?

The word “anxiety” seems to be in everyone’s vocabulary these days, and it was a familiar term in the days of the Torah too. Our Avot were famously anxious, even needing, at times, to be reassured by Hashem Himself. Fear is also a major factor in this week’s parsha, as Yaakov tries to steel himself for a showdown with his warrior brother. Let’s back up for a minute and set the scene…

At the urging of his mother, Yaakov disguised himself and received the blessing his father had intended to give Esav, his twin. Filled with rage, Esav announced his plan for murderous revenge, so Yaakov fled to Charan to save his life. There he met the daughters of Lavan, pledged to work 14 years to secure them as wives and began building a family. After his debt of service was paid, Yaakov remained in Charan, enduring tough conditions as Lavan cheated, scapegoated and exploited him. Yaakov could have spared himself the abuse from Lavan by returning home to his father, but there was something that likely kept him there: Esav’s anger still lurked in the background.

Some of us avoid trips to the dentist; but for 20 challenging years, Yaakov had been avoiding a terrifying confrontation with his seething twin brother.

It wasn’t until Hashem directed Yaakov to head home that he finally decided to contact his brother. He sent messengers to find Esav, and they returned with sobering news: Esav was on his way to greet Yaakov, along with an entourage of 400 men. The Torah tells us, “Yaakov was very scared and he was distressed.” Aside from being afraid, he didn’t have a handle on the situation. He wasn’t absolutely sure that Esav wanted to kill him, but it was hard to imagine what else Esav would be doing with a small army.

So Yaakov did what he could to protect his family, dividing them into two camps and leading each group across the Jordan River. That night, Yaakov remained on the opposite side of the river, standing alone with his fears.

In today’s classrooms, some educators rely on “emotional anchors” to help nervous children overcome their fears. These are positive experiences— small tastes of success doled out to students throughout the day, making them feel confident enough to dive into the “scary” world of new information, and helping them develop a warm emotional association with the classroom material. When a student’s newly-acquired skill makes him feel competent and empowered, he’s likely to retain and assimilate it, and he’s also motivated to keep reaching for more.

Perhaps these teachers model their work after the Ultimate Teacher, who arranged a confidence-builder for Yaakov when he stood alone at the river that night. A mysterious assailant appeared out of nowhere, and the two men wrestled for hours, acting out the terrifying scene Yaakov had dreaded for so long. And then, just as dawn broke, he bested his attacker and sent him away. “And the sun rose upon him,” the Torah says. Yaakov was seriously injured, but the confrontation had ended and he had prevailed.

From that moment on, Yaakov had a different perspective on his impending encounter with Esav. He focused on logistical preparations for their meeting rather than being dominated by fear. His new name, Yisrael, which celebrated his previous night’s victory, may have offered additional emotional support. While he had emerged from that struggle with a limp, Yaakov/Yisrael knew he was stronger now. He certainly had no need to run.

May all of Yaakov’s children, in every school, also find their paths to success, with Hashem’s sun shining down on each member of B’nai Yisrael.

Mrs. Lori Linzer is a Tanach teacher at Ma’ayanot.