Reuvain Borchardt

Tuition is one of those subjects on which many people have firsthand experience and strong opinions, yet not everyone is looking at the same ledger.

Parents see invoices for bills due alongside the mortgage, groceries, health costs, and simchos. Administrators see payroll, vendors, insurance, and balances that may never be collected. Rebbeim and teachers see late paychecks, resulting in their own unpaid bills.

The Voice set out to bring those conversations together. Hundreds of parents responded to our tuition survey, and we conducted interviews with administrators of all sorts of schools across town—Litvish, yeshivish, balabatish, boys’ and girls’ elementary and high schools, and beis medrash. (To get candid answers, we promised anonymity to all participants, so the names used in this article are pseudonyms, though the stories are very real.)

Our survey results are striking. Sixteen percent of respondents said that at least half of their income goes toward tuition obligations, and another 29 percent spend more than 25 percent.

Yet as difficult as the tuition burden is and while some respondents said tuition rates are unreasonably high, a clear majority of 61 percent said they believe the tuition charged is reasonable. And when asked where paying tuition ranks on their list of priorities, on a scale of one to five, the average rating was 4.6. Yet, with the leaves just beginning to change colors and the next school year just around the corner, 29 percent still owe tuition from last year.

A family can consider tuition entirely justified and still be unable to pay it.

 

Reasonable ≠ affordable

 

“I fully believe that it costs the price they’re charging, if not more,” says Avi, a parent of seven children in local schools. “It’s just that within the confines of my income and expenses, I truly can’t afford to pay full tuition. I wish there was a better way.”

Avi pays tuition of $6,800 to $8,000 per child, for a total of 25 percent of his income.

Rivka, a mother of six, believes that “per child, it’s a reasonable amount, but when paying for multiple children, it becomes too expensive.”

Many parents share this distinction: They understand that buildings must be maintained and staff must be paid, but tuition is a cost not for the child but for the parents of what might be many children across many mosdos.

Tzippy, a mother of eight, has an annual tuition obligation of $53,750—and that’s after sharp reductions from full tuition. She currently owes $13,000 to schools, and she has a harsh view of administrators who aggressively pursue outstanding balances.

For one school, she had begun the year with a $16,500 obligation for three children and, through what she describes as her and her husband’s blood, sweat, and tears, they managed to pay $15,000 by year’s end. But when September rolled around, she says, the school withheld her children’s admission papers due to the remaining $1,500 balance, without first calling to discuss it.

“It was very hurtful and embarrassing, both for myself and for my children,” she says. “At the very least, they should have been decent about understanding that 90 percent of a huge bill was paid.”

 

Step into my office

 

The administrators we interviewed say they’re not exactly sitting on piles of cash either.

When parents complain to him about tuition costs, Shimon, the executive director of a boys’ elementary school, has a simple response: “What’s the other option? It’s the cost of running the mosad. Where should we cut down? We’re paying the staff much less than a regular job. There’s no profit here.”

Several administrators said that even if every family paid full tuition, a small amount of fundraising would still be necessary, though they say more than 90 percent of the budget would be covered. Yet not many parents pay full. A lot pay way less.

The share of parents who pay full tuition varied greatly among the administrators we interviewed, from a low of 3 percent to a high of 50 percent. And of course, the clienteles among the schools vary greatly too, as does the tuition, depending on the category of school.

In most elementary schools, full tuition tops out at $8K. Yet for mesivta, it can start around $11K, and in beis medrash it can be 18 grand or more. And while few can afford the full cost for mesivta or beis medrash, some of the schools with the lowest full tuition have some of the lowest rates of full-payers and the highest rates of parents behind on payments.

Eli, a mesivta administrator, says his school’s cash flow tightens as the year progresses. Many parents who can pay upfront do so early, leaving the school increasingly dependent on those who are slower to pay.

“The last stragglers make it very difficult to pay our rebbeim in the summer,” he says.

Aharon, another mesivta admin, has utter contempt for the landlords who rent houses to small mesivtas. He says they charge the mesivtas far more than they would charge a family renting the same home, and that’s the yeshivah’s only expense he believes can reasonably be reduced.

“The only thing that costs too much is our wonderful landlords,” he says. “There’s nothing that can be cut out. The rebbeim are making bupkes.”

Parents, too, repeatedly emphasized that teachers deserve more than they get. “I want my kids to go to a school where teachers and rebbeim are paid well,” one mother wrote. “I would want every teacher to be properly trained and for teaching to become a profession everyone wants.”

Another woman, whose husband is a rebbi who is owed money by his school, says, “A school has no right to collect higher tuition if paying teaching staff is not prioritized.”

 

Priorities

 

Parents have varying opinions on tuition obligations. Some believe the full cost of tuition is an unrealistic number not worth even considering as a realistic price. But Miriam, a mother of two children who pays a third of her income toward tuition, takes a different view.

“Paying full tuition is our greatest priority, and we will not ask for a break even if we can’t afford other things such as a house or vacations,” she says. “Many people tell us that we’re crazy for paying full tuition, but to us, paying for our children’s chinuch is more important than anything else.”

And when they can’t pay, these parents say they feel as bad as the administrators do.

Yossi, a father of five who sees 30 percent of his income go to tuition and still owes over $9,000 to his five children’s schools, says his “number-one priority is to pay tuition” and that “it bothers me that I’m causing a delay in their paychecks.”

While very few parents who responded to our survey admitted to not placing tuition payments high on their priority list, the admins say they see a different reality.

Shimon estimates that among families that owe his school, “maybe 10 percent really don’t have any money. For 90 percent, it’s not that high on their list of priorities.”

Meir, a girls’ elementary administrator, is more sympathetic. “I do feel they want to pay tuition,” he says. “People have a lot of expenses. Tuition is very big and therefore hard for people to pay, and they pay where they have to pay.”

Yet Meir says his school has just sent letters for the first time warning that children would not be accepted back if old balances remained unpaid. He believes some families will find money once the consequence becomes real.

“Just like they come up with the money for day camp, seminary, or if the transmission breaks. How? It’s a good question. But they do come up with it.”

Tzippy, the struggling mother of eight, rejects the comparison. “Jewish education is a mandatory element that every parent needs to provide for their children,” she says. “Comparing a Jewish education to a transmission or day camp or a mortgage or grocery bill—just for that alone, this man doesn’t deserve to own a school. He should close and go work for Charles Schwab. He doesn’t belong in chinuch.”

Other administrators are unwilling to use a child as leverage, even when they acknowledge that this weakens their collection power. Eli says his mesivta has allowed boys to begin Elul with balances from the previous year.

“We will never take it out on a bachur because his father didn’t pay tuition,” he says. “We’re in the world of chinuch to help people, not hurt people.”

Shimon says his school sometimes warns that a child will not return, but he won’t follow through unless daas Torah permits it, and thus far he has never received permission to do so. Still, he insists that parents can’t transfer the entire problem to the school.

“We’ll work with you, but you can’t just throw up your hands and say, ‘I don’t have,’” he says. “Give a few hundred dollars when you can. Show that you’re serious.”

Yitzchok, a beis medrash admin, says that “while there are always exceptions, I’m a firm believer that the parents who don’t pay can’t.”

Shimon disagrees.

“Plenty of the people who owe tuition drive nice cars and live in nice houses, so they have high bills, and those take precedence over tuition. And sometimes when we go shopping, we see people who owe us money buying flowers and dips and a lot of extra stuff. For them, that’s more important than tuition.”

 

Not just tuition

 

One frustrating aspect of school obligations for parents is that it often doesn’t end at tuition.

There are building funds, registration fees, lunch fees, transportation fees, dinners, campaigns, book fees, trips, Shabbatons, and the school’s annual RayzeIt campaign. Most schools don’t require parents to participate in these online fundraisers, but parents feel pressure to do so.

Sara, a mother of four, feels that the actual tuition is justified but asks schools to stop delivering the rest of the cost in installments: “If it’s mandatory, just include it in the tuition bill,” she says. “I don’t need surprises.”

One father asks, “Why do they charge a $250 registration fee every year besides the mandatory building fee? It’s absurd. Tuition is killing the middle class. I have to work a night job just to pay for it.”

A number of parents feel schools have unnecessary fancy buildings resulting in steep mortgages.

And some administrators we spoke to agreed.

“It is a legitimate question, and they are often correct,” says Shimon, who has experience in construction and believes schools don’t always value-engineer projects carefully enough. “I do see people building buildings that are over the top.”

A girls’ high school administrator told us he draws a line between extravagance and creating an environment in which students feel valued.

“For high school, you need a nicer place,” he says. “Girls should be happy to come and be proud.”

But he too says a school shouldn’t “go crazy.”

One mesivta admin responds to the complaints about building sizes, “The same way you trust the hanhalah with the chinuch of your child, you have to trust your yeshivah that they built that building thinking that’s what’s going to help the bachurim shteig.”

Several parents said they feel schools need to be more transparent about costs.

“If schools would open their books, it would go a long way toward building trust with parents,” said one.

“If you want us fundraising for you, being partners with you, and paying a fortune per child,” said another, “I think the parents deserve to know where all the money is going.”

 

Paying the difference

 

No matter the causes and where the blame lies, if anywhere at all, the bottom line is that many parents struggle to pay tuition and fall behind on payments, causing financial strain on the schools. When that happens, what is to be done?

Tzippy believes the answer must include the broader community.

“Here in Lakewood, we have organizations for every need,” she says, pointing to food, medical, and wedding assistance. “But we have no organization to ensure people’s tuition is paid. I know tuition costs much more than these other things, but it’s time the community took responsibility for that as well.”

Meir, the administrator whose school is owed over half a million dollars in back tuition and whose views on tuition and car transmissions infuriated Tzippy, tells me almost the exact same thing.

“I feel the gvirim in town have to put together a system for people who can’t pay tuition, just as they have for everything else,” Meir says. “You’d be helping parents, children, teachers, principals, and the functioning of the school.

“Lots of schools are falling apart or closing because we don’t have money. There’s a lot of money in Lakewood. Parents call me, literally crying that they can’t pay tuition. You can’t imagine what’s going on. People’s electric and gas bills are being shut off. Some aren’t sending their kids to playgroup. There are men wearing the same hat and women wearing the same sheitels that they got for their wedding.

“What we’re doing for yeshivos in Eretz Yisrael through Keren Olam HaTorah, we need to do for our schools here in Lakewood.”

Meir’s heartbreak over parents’ plight, yet his insistence that they pay up if their kids want to show up to school, reflects the dichotomy of tuition realities: The families’ hardships are genuine, but the missed payments can threaten payroll and even a yeshivah’s viability.

One father believes each side should stop trying to give eitzos to the other.

“Parents are experts in mosdos’ responsibilities, and mosdos are experts in parents’ responsibilities. If each would focus on their own responsibilities, we would be in a much better place.”

 

Raising the bar

 

Benny, a local philanthropist who has devoted large amounts of money and time toward helping yeshivos, says yeshivos charge way too little and parents need to step up.

“The tuition issue isn’t about affordability,” he argues. “The tuition issue is that schools charge $5,000 to $7,000 in tuition, while it should be $11,000 or $12,000. Yes, there’s a huge affordability crisis in our community, but every school in Lakewood is 1 to 2 million dollars a year in the red before they open their doors. You can’t run a business like that.

“We have to at least establish the yesod that a school shouldn’t be losing that much money. If each family has to raise 1 or 2 thousand above their current tuition contribution to make it work, let them do that. But to start off a budget every year that’s not going to work is terrible.

“We need to invest in chinuch as a community,” Benny continues. “Every community, whether it be Monsey or Lakewood or Brooklyn, has a $50 million to $100 million annual deficit in yeshivah budgets. Before we go raise money for Israel and other places, we have to be able to take care of our own people. Just because they’re not-for-profit doesn’t mean it has to be a bad system.”

The price of the system

 

The American chinuch system has flourished for decades through a combination of parental sacrifice, underpaid rebbeim and moros, generous donors, and yeshivos willing to discount tuition far below its actual cost. It has worked not because the numbers add up, but because so many people have stretched themselves to make it work.

But that model is under increasing strain.

Our community has already seen schools close or come dangerously close to it. At the same time, families are carrying tuition obligations that consume a quarter, a third, or even half of their income, leaving many unable to keep up despite viewing tuition as one of their highest priorities.

Beneath all the differing opinions, there’s much agreement. Parents acknowledge that schools need the money they charge. Administrators acknowledge that many parents genuinely can’t pay it. Nearly everyone agrees that rebbeim and teachers deserve to earn more than they do. All those realities can be true at the same time, and together they create a system that leaves many carrying a burden they can’t fully bear.

Askanim continue to lobby for government funding for vouchers and tax credits for private-school tuition, and the recent federal bill that provides tax credits for donations to scholarship foundations provides a ray of hope. Yet New Jersey is nowhere near passing a serious school-choice program like Florida and Ohio have.

The gap between what a Torah education costs and what many families can realistically afford has become perhaps the biggest financial challenge of frum life. How that gap should be bridged—through higher tuition rates, greater philanthropy, broader communal support, or some combination of the three—remains hotly debated. Yet there is consensus that the current system is, for many, becoming increasingly difficult to sustain.

 

Chiyuvim and Challenges

 

The Voice reached out to Rav Dov Kahan, rav of K’hal Rayim Ahuvim of Arlington and av beis din of Bais Din Maysharim, to discuss Halachic and hashkafic issues related to tuition.

On whom lies the chiyuv to educate our children?

 

The Torah places a profound and personal responsibility on every father to ensure his child receives a proper Torah education. It’s not just a technical obligation; it’s a sacred mission. Today, most fathers fulfill this by entrusting their children to rebbeim who serve as their shluchim. These devoted mechanchim often give a child far more than any parent could manage alone—warmth, structure, expertise, and a classroom full of peers that enriches the chinuch experience.

Chazal recognized that not every father can shoulder this burden financially. That’s why they established a communal chiyuv—a moral and halachic safety net—ensuring that no child is left without Torah learning simply because his parents struggle. So we really have two intertwined responsibilities: the father’s primary obligation, and the kehillah’s backup obligation.

In our times, private mosdos help carry this communal role. Parents pay what they can, and the tzibbur steps in through fundraising to fill the gap. It’s a beautiful partnership—each family contributing according to its ability, and the community ensuring every child learns Torah.

What amount of education is included in the father’s responsibility?

 

The poskim debate this passionately. Some say the father’s obligation is limited to Torah Shebichsav. Others argue it includes Torah Sheb’al Peh, including Mishnah, Gemara, and Halachah. A middle view suggests that while a father must personally teach Torah Sheb’al Peh, hiring teachers for it isn’t obligatory.

But the Shulchan Aruch is clear: If a father can afford it, he should hire rebbeim even for Torah Sheb’al Peh.

In reality, we go far beyond the bare minimum. Boys generally learn until their wedding. And Rav Moshe Feinstein ruled that today, daughters must also receive proper schooling. Chinuch has become a lifelong investment, not a short-term requirement.

May one use maaser funds to pay tuition?

 

Generally, maaser can’t be used to fulfill personal obligations—not for a lulav, not for supporting a son-in-law once committed, and not for the basic years of chinuch that fall squarely on the father.

For the later grades focused on Torah Sheb’al Peh, it’s a machlokes. Ideally, if one can afford tuition, he should avoid using maaser.

Rav Moshe held that even girls’ schooling can’t be paid from maaser, though conceivably, he would allow the use of maaser for seminary. He once pointed out in a teshuvah to a parent who questioned him regarding this that based on his income, he isn’t mechuyav in maaser in the first place.

However, anything above the required tuition—donations, dinner ads, extra contributions—may be given from maaser. And if a family is only responsible for a reduced tuition amount, any voluntary payment beyond that can also come from maaser.

The Rav mentioned that there’s a communal responsibility to educate our children. Are you allowed to use your maaser money to help someone who’s struggling to pay tuition, or do you, as a resident of the city, have the chiyuv to do this and therefore can’t use maaser for it?

 

Yes—wholeheartedly. The communal chiyuv rests on the entire city, not on any one individual. Helping another parent pay tuition is a beautiful act of tzedakah, and maaser may absolutely be used.

Once the child is enrolled in the school, they’re typically in all the way until eighth or 12th grade. May a school raise tuition annually? Must parents pay it?

 

Yes, schools may raise tuition. Costs rise, inflation happens, and each year is essentially a new enrollment. Parents can switch schools or move, so the relationship resets annually.

But there’s an unspoken rule: Increases must be reasonable. Just like Lakewood’s minhag not to raise rent more than about 5 percent, tuition increases should be modest and fair.

May a school deny a child entry if parents owe tuition?

 

Ideally, no. It’s not appropriate. Schools were founded to educate the tzibbur, including those who struggle financially. They accepted the responsibility to fundraise for shortfalls.

But reality is complicated. Some parents truly can’t afford tuition; others simply prioritize differently—vacations, home renovations, camps, impressive simchos—while tuition lags behind. Schools can’t be expected to absorb costs when parents could pay but choose not to.

That’s why schools sometimes issue these threats. It’s a desperate attempt to prevent abuse of the system.

But schools work with families. If a family that receives such a demand letter really can’t afford tuition, if they’ll bring it to the school’s attention, convince them of their dire financial situation, and perhaps give something toward the balance to show that they value the need to pay tuition, the school won’t make an issue.

I should add that halachically, a parent can be compelled to pay tuition, even through confiscation of assets. But depriving a Yiddishe child of a Torah education because of unappreciative or frugal-minded parents is not the ideal method.

The Rav used the word “threat.” Are these letters always threats, or is the Rav aware of any instances in Lakewood where a student was actually barred because his parents owed tuition?

 

Baruch Hashem, rarely—extremely rarely. And when it happens, it’s usually for a day or two until the situation is clarified. Either the parents find a solution, or the school realizes the family truly can’t pay, or a rav or askan steps in.

Regarding parents’ expenditures and priorities, I’d like to ask about the example the Rav gave above: Is it wrong for parents who owe tuition to send kids to camp or take a vacation?

 

Not necessarily. Every family’s emotional and financial reality is different. Vacations can be luxuries, but sometimes they’re necessities for mental health and family stability.

But parents must remain aware of their tuition debt. Excessive spending while owing money is inappropriate—not just for tuition, but for any debt. Paying what you owe even comes before giving tzedakah.

Schools already work with families to set a manageable tuition amount. Once that number is agreed on, parents should think carefully before spending on extras.

Unpaid tuition hurts the entire system. Rebbeim and teachers feel the strain. Their stress affects their ability to give your child the best chinuch. It’s not just a financial issue—it’s a spiritual one, for your child and the entire class.

 

One of the administrators I interviewed told me that he’s bothered when he goes shopping for Shabbos and he sees people who owe the school tuition buying dips and flowers for Shabbos. Does the Rav consider dips and flowers for Shabbos excessive if one owes tuition?

 

While his sentiment may have a basis in Chazal, it isn’t the expectation in today’s society. These are expressions l’kavod Shabbos, and if a family is accustomed to them, perhaps they need not feel guilty for maintaining that kavod. It’s far more appropriate to curb spending in other areas than to cut back specifically on Shabbos.

Chazal even imply that Shabbos foods—including dips—are part of honoring the day. And just like chinuch, Shabbos expenses aren’t deducted from one’s annual allotment of parnassah.

Can the Rav give examples of excessive expenditures?

 

It’s impossible to give a universal example. Every family’s lifestyle is different. But anything clearly beyond what the family is accustomed to—anything lavish or unnecessary—should be reconsidered when tuition is owed.

Is it okay for schools to charge a building fund even though parents don’t own the building?

 

Yes. Children need a building. If it’s not purchased, it must be rented. Either way, the cost exists.

I have heard, though I have no idea whether it’s true, that local mosdos have received less from local donors since Keren Olam HaTorah started having missions to Lakewood the past couple of years. Is that correct?

 

Some donors have indeed shifted funds toward Keren Olam HaTorah, reducing what they give locally. It’s unclear how much this affects schools, but other organizations have definitely felt the impact.

Is this a violation of “aniyei ircha kodmim”?

 

The gedolei hador launched this campaign, so clearly it carries great importance. They encouraged donors to give in addition to their regular tzedakah, but realistically, some people simply reallocate funds. The gedolim surely understood this.

Any final thoughts from the Rav?

 

Baruch Hashem, many parents feel genuine pride in paying tuition. It’s an investment in their children’s future and a fulfillment of a Torah obligation.

Gedolim have said that parents who pay according to their ability receive the greatest blessing from the chinuch system. Those who push their responsibility onto others often see less success, and tragically, their children may not reach their full potential.

Possibly their source is based on the gemara in Sukkah (29b) that teaches that one who shirks his responsibilities and leaves them for others may lose his assets. In our context, education is the investment, and a parent who fails to pay tuition may not reap its full profits. This obviously doesn’t apply to those who truly can’t afford tuition, only to those who can but choose not to.

Parents who make tuition a priority often see tremendous nachas. It’s not just a financial decision—it’s a spiritual one with a lifelong impact. It’s truly a privilege.