Pirkei Avos starts with three lessons: Be patient with the administration of justice, raise many students, and set a fence around the Torah. (Avos 1:1). Rav Mattisyahu Salomon, zt”l, Mashgiach of the Gateshead Yeshiva and then of Beis Medrash Govoha in Lakewood, lived his life in accordance with these lessons. He judged others favorably, he was a rebbi to thousands across the globe, and he was always looking to protect the kedusha of klal Yisrael.

Rabbi Avrohom Birnbaum has recently written a biography of Rav Mattisyahu (ArtScroll 2025), bringing to the Jewish reading public a collection of beautiful stories demonstrating the humility, warmth, clarity of vision, and boundless love of klal Yisrael’s mashgiach.

A few months after Rav Mattisyahu’s installation as mashgiach ruchni of Beis Medrash Govoha in Lakewood, a group of several of his former students in the Gateshead Yeshivah left their families for a few weeks to spend Elul with Rav Mattisyahu one more time. This was a beautiful reminder of the kesher (connection) these students had with their mashgiach and the impression he left on Jews worldwide. Rav Mattisyahu, the biography, brings us into the home of a man who lived a life of yiras Shamayim, nesius b’ol, and ahavas Torah from a young age.

In August and September 2025, I again had the privilege to volunteer as a staff physical therapist in ADI-Negev Rehabilitation Hospital in Ofakim, Israel. As I have written on these pages previously, I am fortunate to have a skill set which is much in demand in Israel to treat our injured defense force soldiers and civilians since the war began in October 2023. This was my third stint working at the hospital, but this time was different. On this trip, I was struck by the successes of some unexpected members of the rehabilitation medicine team, ones who rarely get the recognition they deserve.

To give some perspective, ADI-Negev Hospital is located in the Otef Aza, the
“Gaza Envelope,” just a few miles from the Gaza border. Most of the soldiers and civilians we treated – including the ones who were injured on October 7^th in Sderot, Ofakim, and Beeri – live or work in the surrounding cities, moshavim, and yishuvim. In fact, some staff and many of the patients know each other from prior experiences, which further enhanced the camaraderie and cheer-leading that went on daily in the clinic. The encouragement of one patient to another to push further and harder was a daily mantra. The clinic’s mood and environment were constantly upbeat despite the severity of the injuries and trauma. A major factor in the positivity that one experiences there is the presence of a remarkable, young, energetic, and cohesive medical and rehabilitation staff. But perhaps the greatest influence in spreading encouragement and cheer in the hospital are the medical clowns.

Tamar and Rochel are both planning an evening out. They are going to the same place, meeting the same person, and spending the same amount of time there. Tamar is looking forward to the event, and Rochel is dreading it. How could the same event bring such different reactions? The answer, of course, is they are going to a PTA meeting. Tamar knows that her child is doing well in school and looks forward to getting a “nachas report.” Rochel is not looking forward to hearing about all the trouble her child is having.

PTA meetings are a longstanding ritual for parents of school-age children – at least they were in my day. Now, though the ritual is the same, the more up-to-date term seems to be PTC, for parent-teacher conferences. Whatever…

Since I enjoy talking to people and collecting their experiences, I thought it would be interesting to survey some parents, as well as children, for their thoughts. It can be difficult to reach people, however, so imagine my joy when I found myself in the JCC locker room with representatives of three schools. I had a great conversation opener and soon found that they had definite opinions about PTA meetings.

The overwhelming majority of the children in our community go to school; it is an expected part of life. But Baltimore also has a strong contingent of homeschoolers. A large part of the homeschooling community transfers to regular school for high school, so I thought it would be interesting to hear about that transition from the perspective of some former homeschoolers. This article is about three girls who are all now attending traditional schools.

Naami

Naami* just started going to school this year. As more of her homeschooling friends have started to go to school she wanted to go too, and her main reason is for the social life. Here are her words comparing regular school to homeschool:

“In school, you follow a curriculum, and there is a lot of pressure to stay at the same pace as your classmates. Homeschool lets you go at your own pace and learn pretty much whatever you want.

“There are many, many more social opportunities in school, as opposed to homeschool, where you have a small social life. With school, you get home late, and you also must study a lot. I sometimes feel like I don’t have enough time to myself, and I really wish the school day was a little shorter. In homeschool, I never had to study, but I still learned.”

When Naami was asked if she would homeschool her own children, she answered, “I personally don’t feel like I had the best experience homeschooling, but that was really toward the end, after my siblings and friends started going to school. I think it’s important to consider this if you are planning on homeschooling. Your child will probably have a much better experience if she/he is homeschooled with siblings or other children. I don’t think I will homeschool my own children, because I want them to have the experience I didn’t have. However, it depends very much on the needs of the child.”

In my original article, entitled “The Search for a Rebbe,” I presented some of the major qualifications one should seek in a rebbe or rav – namely, someone who elevates the individual, takes a deep personal interest in him, and whose words resonate. I would like to elaborate on the final qualification.

There is a misconception among some people today that the ideal is to become a carbon copy of one’s rebbe. Such students may feel that if the rebbe is holier, wiser, and a greater scholar than them – it follows that the student should lose his own identity and model himself completely after the rebbe. This, however, is a serious mistake.

Rav Naftali Amsterdam, zt”l, asked his great rebbe, Rav Yisrael Salanter, zt”l, “How can I serve Hashem properly? If I had the mind of the Sha’agos Aryeh, the heart of the Mesillas Yesharim, and the rebbe’s middos, I could serve Hashem. But what am I supposed to do in my present state?” Rav Yisrael famously responded, “My dear Naftali, you are mistaken. It is with your mind, your heart, and your middos that you are supposed to serve Hashem!” Each individual is created with his own personality and a specific set of strengths and challenges. He has his own unique mission in the world that only he can fulfill. It is tragic when one doesn’t even realize that he has his own personal mission.

As a therapist and music teacher who has also had her fair share of days as an elementary school teacher, I’ve seen the challenges of technology surge. We educators and parents are constantly faced with questions: How are we to maintain the values learned in yeshiva alive, and how do we keep up with the rush of instant dopamine that the screens all around us provide?

I read a beautiful idea in the Family First article, “Cradle of Innovation.” Rabbi Zweig shares a thought, in the name of the Alexander Rebbe, on the pasuk, “Binu shnos dor v’dor. The Rebbe translates the word shnos as change. In each generation, he says, it is important to note the changes and challenges of that generation and tailor chinuch accordingly. And I marvel at the magnificent job our rebbeim and morahs are doing, racing to keep up with all the innovations in our surroundings, including smartphones, texting, the internet, and WhatsApp.

Today I interviewed Mrs. Rochel Rochkind, a woman of extraordinary strength who is at the foundation of many key Baltimore community moments.

When did your family arrive in Baltimore?

My mother’s parents moved to Baltimore from New York in 1940, so she moved with them.

What was your experience, being part of the first class of Bais Yaakov of Baltimore?

Bais Yaakov was founded in 1942. My grandmother and mother were listening to the Jewish Hour on the radio and heard amazing things about Bais Yaakov. They were so impressed that they decided to send me there for school. My class was the first to go through the whole system, nursery through twelfth grade. We were eight girls. Now, we are all older, and many of us have children, grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren in Bais Yaakov.

“It’s as though he has died a second time,” the mourner intoned softly to the menachemei aveilim who were gathered around to pay their respects. “We first noticed it when he kept getting lost and had no sense of direction. He continued going downhill, until it got to the point where he didn’t recognize me anymore. That was when I lost my Dad the first time.”

Unfortunately, this sentiment at shiva is very common. Dementia is like a thief that steals the very essence of a person. It can cause an intelligent, talented individual to become a prisoner in his own body. Dementia comes in all stripes and colors, expressing itself in many ways. It doesn’t discriminate against any culture, race, or religion. Victims include prominent figures, such as judges, doctors, and rabbis. According to the NIH, dementia affects four percent of the population by age 75 and 20% by age 85.^[1]

Early Shabbos morning, my husband was walking to shul when he saw four huge deer in front of our neighbor’s house about to cross the street in front of him. He froze, and the deer froze. Waiting for something to happen, my husband stared at them; they stared back. Then he decided that either he would get to shul on time or, G-d forbid, get attacked by a deer. When he shared this story, he made a joke about it, probably to lighten it up for me, by singing “On his way to Daf Yomi, Zaidy gets run over by a deer.” We laughed, but we both knew that this incident wasn’t funny. While we appreciate the sleek beauty of Hashem’s creation and enjoy seeing them in our yard, we know that the free-running deer in our community are causing problems that need to be solved.

Just a few weeks ago, I “bagged” my first deer. Allow me to qualify that. No, I’m not a hunter; I had no intention of taking a deer in any fashion on that day. It was an entirely accidental event. Driving down my street on my way to shul, in the deep darkness just a few minutes before 6 a.m. – a daily modus operandi that permits me to learn for about half an hour before davening begins – a small deer darted in front of my car’s right side. No one, I am convinced, could have averted that deer collision. Still, an awful lot went through my mind as soon as it happened. I assured myself that I had not, chas v’shalom, struck a child; surely, it couldn’t have been a careless and unguarded child running into the street to catch a lost ball. Children simply aren’t out playing at 5:55 a.m., when the only background light is provided by streetlamps. The fact that I had seen a momentary flash of light brown as the collision occurred allowed me to take a first deep breath.

My next thought, while still on my minute-and-a-half ride to shul, was that selichos would be beginning the following week. If ever there was a wake-up call about how our lives hang in the balance, this was it. The notion of taking the life of a larger mammal was truly humbling and unsettling for me. And what is it that our people of yesteryear were supposed to be thinking when they offered a korban for a wrongdoing? That it could/should really have been me lying on the mizbe’ach giving up my life. For all its brevity, this collision surely was a most humbling experience and a kapparah of notable degree. With “only” an $800 car repair to go along with the experience, I must believe that I got off rather easily.