Shaindy Lieberman

“You, yes you!” said the teacher.

No one responded.

“You, in the third seat,” called the instructor.

No one reacted.

“You, please read the next few lines,” was the command.

The lines were read, but no one felt recognized.

“You, I’m calling on you!” she had said. No one felt heard. Really heard.

A bunch of “yous” were taught over the span of 10 months. But not one felt engaged. No one connected. No one thrived.

No one wants to be just another “you.” We can only flourish when our innate need to be recognized as an individual with unique value is realized.

The famous Rashi in the beginning of Shemos states, “Hamotzi b’mispar tzva’am, l’chulam b’sheimos Yikra.” Hakadosh Baruch Hu calls each star by its own individual name. Rashi tells us that this is a way of showing chibah—affection. When one is addressed with an expression of “I recognize you for the star that you are,” they feel appreciated and are more open to continue working toward maintaining that stardom. Because he knows he counts, he shines.

Anyone can hand out paper tickets to try and get a bunch of boys to point in their sefer as they learn. Yet the veteran mechanech knows how to dole out affective sounds of affirmation and specific, genuine, positive recognition as the class learns. Same goal. Yet, the ticket yields a reward for one, while the compliments build many and stay with them eternally.

The group leader hands out all kinds of prizes for every accomplishment. But it seems to be a rat race of prizes for motivation and then prizes again. He fails to realize that made-in-China trinkets that are fun today, broken tomorrow are in no way substitutes for character building and pointed recognition.

A mother can bribe a child to help at home, and that may get the chores done. But the intuitive parent knows that the tangible reward is fleeting, while comments like “Do you know who peeled the potatoes for this kugel?” or “This house looks neater because Shira made all the shoes in a straight line,” or “Zemiros are so sweet when your voice is part of it” will have the child coming back for more. More of the wanted behavior, for more recognition.

When one’s sense of self-worth is awakened, they are bound to accomplish, as it says, “Oorah kevodi.”

A child whose beautiful art work is now his mother’s screen saver…

A young man whose certificate is hung on the fridge…

A student whose photograph is featured in the school newsletter…

A child who had Mommy’s time to himself as they played a game…

A student who worked toward a goal and completed a chart (irrelative to the pace at which her classmates complete it)…

A junior neighbor who received a genuine compliment for assisting…

A talmid who gets to choose a fictious name for the main character in the mashal…

A girl who gets to design a homework sheet to be copied for the entire class to use…

An absentee who’s told that her usual contribution to the class was missed…

All internalize a sense of recognition and appreciation. That wholesome feeling is what gives them courage to seek out further opportunities to succeed.

The Toranis/monitor in our class is the student who gives out the papers, collects the old ones, distributes the snack, gets the CD player from the downstairs office, erases the board, and more. She works hard on the day she gets her chance. But it’s an excitedly anticipated day. Never, ever has a complaint been uttered about all the extra tasks she’s been given. On the contrary, the more errands she’s sent on, the more she glows. No one wants to be absent on the day their turn arrives.

How to explain this sudden affinity for helping? It’s surely the attention and the sense that “I’m an important person here today” that has the girls counting down toward their next opportunity to be “it.”

This system is an offshoot of an idea shared by Ruchama Shain in Reaching the Stars. She wrote that while she would come to class ready to give to all her students, she consciously prepared to especially focus another one of her students each day. The students obviously didn’t know about this system, yet surely felt that they had a special place in Mrs. Shain’s class.

As adults, we can certainly identify with that feeling. Have you ever gone through the steps of making arrangements, getting dressed, and traveling to an event, only to come home and question the wasted time and effort involved in getting there?

Then there are the times you exert the same effort to participate in an event, but you come home with a bounce in your step and in good spirits.

In an honest moment, we would all agree that the difference lies in the interactions you experienced while there. When you sense the host or hostess’s genuine appreciation for your participation and perhaps encounter other guests who also express their delight in meeting you, the feeling that you’re meaningful to others is gratifying.

Our charges crave knowing that they’re valued, cherished, and appreciated. When they’re sure of that, they show up.

Preceding PTA, the schools send home notes stating, “Please be aware that the school discourages leaving treats for your children.” They want to stem this mistaken trend. They want us to realize that there’s no way a chocolate bar or candy can express to your child what they mean to you. Let no parent fool themselves into thinking that they did their duty by coming out and putting something on their child’s desk. The goal of attending these conferences is to really listen to what’s being said about your child, and then to come home and convey an honest and warm report. We want to relay what the teacher likes about the child, the noted strides, and what strengths are shining through.

To the child, a meaningful eye to eye, post-PTA conversation where he sees and hears how proud you are of him by far surpasses the most delectable treat. The increased confidence and good feelings last long after the treat has been consumed.

At times, an honest report of what had been relayed requires encouraging the child to apply himself more or to stop certain behaviors. Know that relaying this information with honesty and an even temperament is a tremendous service to our offspring and even boosts their self-confidence. They know deep down when they aren’t performing optimally. When they perceive that either their teacher or parents have settled on a mediocre standard on their behalf even though they truly can achieve more, their subconscious desire to reach higher is stymied.

Nobody is perfect. That is the reality. But a false sense thereof is counterproductive. Telling your child, “Rebbi wants you to be more mindful about seder v’nikayon,” or “Your teacher wants you to raise your hand before you speak” tells them that you know they can achieve that. Holding your child accountable for a decent morning routine conveys that this a standard you trust he can uphold. Similarly, when a teacher continuously involves all students in the lessons, as opposed to only calling on students who she knows will certainly answer correctly, she imparts a sense of “I believe in all of you.” When a mother allows her daughter to try new recipes instead of assuming she’ll botch up, she’s gifting her with “You can” opportunities.

Raising our children involves just that. It means elevating their sense of self-worth and raising their image in their own eyes. As the Kotzker Rebbe expounded on the words “Lehodiah livnei adam gevurosav,” we show that we recognize their individual strengths, abilities, and accomplishments. In turn, this enables them to reach ever higher propelled by the confidence that “We value you.”