What We Owe Our Teachers

When I look back at my high school years, now a long time ago, I can’t necessarily pinpoint any single fact I learned or skill I mastered. The details blur with time. What remains vivid, however, are the teachers. I remember the ones who got me: the educators who saw past report cards and schedules and recognized a young person still figuring out who they were and who they might become. Those teachers didn’t just teach subjects, they shaped my trajectory. They made school a place of meaning, possibility, and care. 

That reality was very much on my mind this week as I was in New Jersey for a school dinner honoring my brother and sister-in-law. As part of the evening, the school showed a short video that included students reading letters they had written to their teachers, expressing appreciation for the impact those teachers had on their lives. It was beautifully produced, deeply sincere, and, unsurprisingly, quite emotional. What struck me most was not just the eloquence of the students, but the consistency of the message. Again and again, the students spoke about being seen, believed in, and guided. The video served as a powerful reminder of just how central our teachers are, and how much more we can, and should, do to show them our gratitude.

Within the Orthodox Jewish community, it is easy to take education for granted. After all, our lives revolve around schools, yeshivos, and learning of all kinds. But we should never lose sight of the fact that education is the single most important gift you can give another person. Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks z”l captured this truth powerfully in 2017, speaking in the House of Lords during a debate about education:

My Lords, allow me to speak personally as a Jew. Something about our faith moves me greatly, and goes to the heart of this debate. At the dawn of our people’s history, Moses assembled the Israelites on the brink of the Exodus. He didn’t talk about the long walk to freedom. He didn’t speak about the land flowing with milk and honey. Instead, repeatedly, he turned to the far horizon of the future and spoke about the duty of parents to educate their children. He did it again at the end of his life, commanding: “You shall teach these things repeatedly to your children, speaking of them when you sit in your house, when you walk on the way, when you lie down and when you rise up.”

Why this obsession with education that has stayed with us from that day to this? Because to defend a country you need an army. But to defend a civilization you need schools. You need education as the conversation between the generations.

In another essay, aptly titled “The Teacher as Hero,” Rabbi Sacks z”l expands this idea even further:

Jews became the people whose heroes were teachers, whose citadels were schools, and whose passion was study and the life of the mind.

Rabbi Sacks was right, of course. The emphasis on education is one of Judaism’s most profound and enduring contributions to civilization. For much of world history, education was limited to clergy and the most privileged members of society. In the Middle Ages, books were expensive, literacy was rare, and scholarship was largely confined to those who could read Latin. To protect the elite, knowledge was guarded and inaccessible.

Judaism charted a different course. Ours was a culture that insisted every child mattered, every mind was worthy of cultivation, and every generation bore responsibility for the next. Teachers were not peripheral figures; they were the backbone of our continuity.

That legacy places a responsibility on us today. To appreciate the gifts we have been given. To recognize the educators in our schools not just as employees, but as shapers of souls and builders of the future. 

That responsibility feels especially urgent right now.

By and large, teachers today are underpaid, overwhelmed, and underappreciated. Anecdotally, it feels as though the pressures of the profession have only intensified since COVID. Expectations are higher, patience is thinner, and resources often feel scarcer. Across North America, Jewish schools are facing a growing teacher shortage. Many schools report losing multiple experienced educators in a single year, while struggling to recruit and retain new ones. Even programs dedicated to training the next generation of Judaic studies teachers are not operating at full capacity, despite having the ability to prepare far more educators than they currently do. The result is a quiet but serious strain on the very institutions we rely on to transmit our values, our learning, and our identity. (I encourage you to read the in-depth report published by The Jewish Action: https://jewishaction.com/religion/education/the-great-teacher-shortage/)

Behind those numbers are real people. Dedicated teachers who love their students and who continue to show up, with dedication, with encouragement, and with a belief in their students that often outpaces the students’ belief in themselves. 

Which brings us to a simple, powerful question: When was the last time you told a teacher thank you? If we want teachers to feel valued, we must show it.  

When was the last time you told a teacher thank you?

Write a note of gratitude. Send an email. Encourage your child to write a few heartfelt sentences to a rebbe, morah, or teacher who made a difference. Many teachers hold on to those notes for years; in difficult moments, they become reminders of why they chose this sacred profession in the first place.

Speak positively about teachers. In fact, we should be clear and uncompromising about this: negative talk about teachers has no place at the Shabbos table. Words create culture, and the way we speak about educators in our homes shapes the way our children relate to them in the classroom.

That doesn’t mean concerns should never be raised. Constructive feedback is sometimes necessary, but it belongs in appropriate, respectful channels, not in casual conversation in front of children. Our sons and daughters are always listening. When they hear teachers spoken about with cynicism, frustration, or disrespect, it erodes authority, trust, and ultimately learning itself. When they hear appreciation, gratitude, and respect, it reinforces the dignity of the teacher and models the values we hope our children will carry with them.

And where possible, support teachers tangibly, through school involvement, advocacy, or financial support. Investing in educators is not an expense; it is an investment in our collective future.

Education is not merely a profession. It is the sacred conversation between generations. As Rabbi Lord Sacks z”l taught us, to defend a civilization we need schools, and at the heart of those schools are teachers. You never know whose life you might change with a few words of gratitude or encouragement. Our teachers know the power of those moments. It’s time we show them that we do too.