As a teacher in a Talmud Torah, I am always seeking ways to uplift and encourage my students, helping each child reach new achievements according to his unique abilities. There was one boy in particular — mischievous yet sweet, with clear and outstanding talents — who, in practice, spent most of his time acting out and disrupting the lessons.
That week, I decided to create a special project just for him. I approached him with an offer: “If you learn well this week and don’t disrupt the class, I will give you a special ’nachas note’ (petek nachat) to take home to your parents — something that will fill them with joy.”
The clever boy thought for a moment and said, “This week it’s not worth it, because we’re traveling to Savta Roizman in Netivot anyway!” I smiled and answered, “On the contrary — Savta Roizman will be thrilled to receive such a note!”
Persuaded, the boy agreed. That week, he studied with such dedication that even I could hardly believe what I was seeing. I looked forward to Friday when I could write him the note he had earned. But HaKadosh Baruch Hu had other plans. On Friday, I received heartbreaking news: my own beloved grandmother had passed away. I traveled to the funeral and even delivered a hesped, mourning her deep loss. Yet throughout all the sorrow, one thought would not leave my mind: little Yedidya, waiting eagerly for his nachas note. If he didn’t receive it, his trust in me would be broken — a wound that would be hard to repair.
My grandmother’s passing was, for him, simply an adult’s story; a child, in his world, just needed his promised note. After the burial, I returned home and prayed to Hashem to guide me as to what I should do.
Suddenly it struck me: “How many Roizmans could there be in Netivot?” After all, Roizman is an Ashkenazi name, and at that time, Netivot was mostly populated by Sephardic families. I called directory assistance and asked for the Roizman family in Netivot. They gave me a number. I called, and an elderly woman answered.
“Hello,” I said. “Have I reached Yedidya’s grandmother?” She confirmed and asked what it was about. I explained that I was Yedidya’s teacher and wanted to share with her how wonderfully he had behaved that week, how he had studied with diligence and not disrupted the class even once. She became emotional and exclaimed, “Wait, wait! I need to find a pen and paper to write all this down — otherwise, how will I remember to tell Yedidya what the Rebbe said about him?” I waited patiently while she fetched her writing materials, and then I dictated to her a long list of praises and blessings for her special grandson.
We ended the call with warm wishes for a Shabbat Shalom.
On Sunday, the father told me: “You have no idea what you did! The whole way to Netivot, Yedidya cried, saying, ’The Rebbe promised me a note, and he didn’t come!’ We arrived at Savta’s house, and Savta greeted him with great excitement, and in front of the entire family, she read aloud the special note the Rebbe had dictated to her. She even went out to buy special treats to celebrate the occasion — and the joy lasted throughout all of Shabbos. Savta couldn’t stop praising her beloved grandson!”
From that week forward, Yedidya blossomed. He became the most diligent and serious student in the class, and he has continued to flourish ever since in his Torah learning.
מ.ק.
