The phone rang. And everything changed. Eight readers share what they heard on the other end of the line
MY oldest son, Yossi, was always a sweet boy with a delicious personality and lots of energy. Lots of energy. From a young age he had a hard time in school — he was not a child who could sit at a desk for long periods of time.
“I wish I could just strap him into his seat!” his second-grade rebbi said to me at one point.
We followed the school’s guidance in everything (except for the seatbelt). We hired tutors and tried various therapies. Nothing really helped, but Yossi managed to stay in the system until he graduated eighth grade.
Ninth grade, though, didn’t work out so well. He had no chavrusa; no one wanted to learn with him because his attendance was not consistent. But with no chavrusa waiting for him, he felt no push to go to yeshivah. When we approached his rebbeim, they couldn’t force someone to learn with him unless they could be sure he’d show up. It became a sort of stalemate: no show = no chavrusa, and no chavrusa = no show.
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