As I walk into RYNJ, I can’t help but notice how carefree the preschoolers are, happily playing with their friends, the first- and second-graders running to their classrooms, and a sixth-grader climbing the stairs with me as she relates her excitement for that new book coming out in exactly six months and two days. I will forever be puzzled by the difference between the relaxed minds of my students and my own agenda-filled mind (the lessons I would like my students to learn that day, the photocopies I need to make, the wide range of capabilities in my class, the long list of parents I need to get back to, and all of my own Pesach prep both inside and outside of the classroom). But I do know that one of my main goals right now as a Jewish educator is getting my students ready for this unique holiday, the holiday where we celebrate the awesome miracles God did for us and we relive (our own) redemption.
I contemplate methodology, collaborate with other teachers, and learn from my own sefarim to give over, to facilitate, to build and to empower young Jewish minds and ignite beautiful neshamos. After all, isn’t Pesach the holiday of teaching our children what Judaism is all about? Why do we keep the Torah? Why are we God’s chosen nation? Why, of all nations, it is we who have a special connection to the Creator? Isn’t this the holiday of emunah? Isn’t this the holiday where we turn our children into links in the chain of our precious Mesorah? “V’Higadeta L’Bincha” is an incredible and VERY daunting responsibility for us all, for both teachers and parents. So I do what all hopefuls do—I look to the greats and follow their lead.
To be sure, all the teachers’ efforts to create a special time for the children certainly make an impact. All of the beautiful artwork in the decorated Haggados will be proudly displayed at both Sedarim, the most important parts being the “Peek-a-boo” flaps that reveal hidden Simanim. (Hopefully, the right flaps were glued to their matching picture and won’t fall off until after their respective parts of the Seder.)
The uplifting divrei Torah will inspire everyone, as adults hold back a chuckle at the cutie who is announcing them with such seriousness. Thankfully, all of the songs will be brought home with lyrics and “to the tune of…” so that everyone can sing along. And, finally, all of the magnificent projects will adorn every table—from exquisitely painted and laced pillow cases, delicate Arba Kosos wine covers, marvelous Eser Makos wheels, lovely puff-painted wine-dripping plates, to gorgeous matzah bookmarks and touching framed mother-daughter pictures, which remind us that it was in the zechus of the women’s emunah that we were redeemed.
Certainly these (and much more) greatly enhance the children’s Pesach learning experience. And it is with no doubt that my gratitude continues to increase for the privilege of working in a place where the inspiration, collaboration, creativity and flow of ideas are endless. The commitment to our students is boundless.
Yet, despite the immeasurable dedication and the hard work we put into our lessons, I find that I receive much more from my students than whatever I give. As with any interpersonal relationship, there is always a give-and-take, but especially during this time of year. While I can plan the divrei Torah and songs we’ll cover in our Haggados on a given day, I am constantly inspired by the genuine excitement and passion the children have for this holiday. “When are we going to learn about Pesach?” “Can I color my Haggadah?” Even throughout the lessons, it is a challenge to get a word in edgewise among all of the stories, insights and knowledge the students themselves want to share with each other. The thrill is truly tangible.
Then I wonder, where did the excitement from my childhood go? I got older and busier. I took on more responsibilities. I have more obligations that distract me from the essence of Pesach. “Let me just get … done” or “I just need to get there,” are frequent thoughts in my head. Sometimes it is difficult to remember that throughout the cleaning, cooking, buying, preparing, planning, listing, kashering and traveling, there is an incredibly deep meaning that underlies all of these activities.
I forget the feeling that comes with being a link in our Mesorah. I forget that having faith and trust in Hashem that everything will get done in time is my avodah right now. I forget the beauty of my heritage and how lucky I am to be God’s first born. I forget the unconditional love God has for me and that trying my best is good enough. The busyness of our lives can get in the way of our own excitement and squelch what we had as children.
But when I’m with the students, I remember. I remember the Pesach music from my childhood. I remember my mother letting me “help” clean the house. I remember the matching dresses my mother bought for my sister and me. And I remember the need to stop everyone at my own Seder to share every dvar Torah I had in my Haggadah. I remember us all getting more and more giggly with every cup of wine. I remember the chocolate frogs, the candy and the coconut-covered marshmallows. And I remember the excitement that prevented me from following my mother’s instruction to take a nap on Erev Pesach so I could stay up for the Seder.
Most recently, I remembered that just about two years ago, we were alone. Everyone was alone. I remember everyone acknowledging what our priorities should be, what matters most in life. And, as I think about Pesach this year, when I get to be with my students in school, vaccinated, and unmasked, I am again reminded of the great chesed of Hashem. I remember the feelings I’m supposed to have during this miraculous time. I remember the gratitude and the pleasure that Pesach is coming.
Perhaps this, the ability to choose to find and ignite these feelings within us, is what cheirus is all about. It is much easier to submit to our yetzer hara who convinces us to assume the Energizer Bunny persona, allowing those negative feelings of anxiety and frustration to come upon us.
Simcha can come from taking a step back to find the deeper meaning in our long “to-do” list and the tremendous gratitude we feel upon reflection of what was and what is. Being mindful that every moment I spend preparing is a mitzvah which brings me closer to God. Indeed, the ability to choose focus is true freedom.
And if you need any help with this, find some children, and they will help you get there with their “Peek-a-boo” flaps and all. Yes, we have the mitzvah of “V’higadeta L’Bincha,” but all good teachers and parents learn from their students and children, too. Sometimes I question who is teaching whom.
Katie Liebling is a beloved fourth-grade morah and third-grade general studies teacher at RYNJ. She is also a graduate of RYNJ.
