Rabbi Spitzer heads a prestigious Chassidish mesivta and bais medrash with more than three hundred bochurim. Known for its exceptional level of learning and outstanding student body, it is one of the most sought-after yeshivos in the area. As a result, each year many more boys apply than can possibly be accepted.
One day, Rabbi Spitzer received a phone call from the principal of a local elementary school. The principal was advocating strongly on behalf of one of his finest talmidim, hoping the yeshiva would find a place for him. Curious about the application, Rabbi Spitzer approached the staff member responsible for processing admissions and asked to see the boy’s file.
The admissions officer searched through the stack and eventually pulled out the application. To Rabbi Spitzer’s surprise, it had already been placed in a separate pile along with several others that were unlikely to be accepted. “Why was this application set aside?” Rabbi Spitzer asked.
The admissions officer pointed to a large handwritten note on the application. “Look what the principal wrote,” he said. Across the page were three bold words: “Tateh ohn bord — father without a beard.”
Since parental background was one of many factors considered when difficult admissions decisions had to be made, and in their circles, a father without a beard was a big minus, the application had been set aside.
Rabbi Spitzer immediately called the principal. “I don’t understand,” he said. “You called to recommend this student so enthusiastically, yet on the application you wrote that the boy’s father is without a beard. If you felt the need to point that out, why are you now advocating so strongly on his behalf?”
The principal was completely bewildered. “That’s not what I meant at all,” he exclaimed. Then the misunderstanding became clear.
“I wrote, ‘Tateh ohn bord,’ meaning the father is ‘on board.’ He is completely invested in his son’s chinuch. Whenever the yeshiva needs him, he is available. Whatever his son requires — whether it’s time, effort, or financial support — he is fully committed. I meant it as one of the strongest recommendations I could possibly give!”
The entire issue had stemmed from a simple misunderstanding. What one person read as a liability was, in reality, intended as glowing praise.
How often does the same thing happen in life? We see an action, hear a comment, or observe a situation and instinctively interpret it in a negative light. Yet we rarely know the full story. What appears to be a flaw may actually be a virtue. Before rushing to judge, it is worth remembering that sometimes we are simply reading the words the wrong way.
