originally published as a Facebook post entitled "Thoughts on Losing a Student Like Adira" on 2/5/23
The Torah content for this week has been sponsored by Sarah and Moshe Eisen, with the following message: "Dedicated in honor of Popo, who shined bright and brought joy to so many of us. And to Rabbi Matt Schneeweiss who shared her with us and continues to share thoughts, insights, and Torah."
The Torah content for this week has also been sponsored by Nava, in memory of Adira Koffsky z"l, who loved learning and philosophy and was a real seeker of truth.
The Torah content for this week has been sponsored by Sarah and Moshe Eisen, with the following message: "Dedicated in honor of Popo, who shined bright and brought joy to so many of us. And to Rabbi Matt Schneeweiss who shared her with us and continues to share thoughts, insights, and Torah."
The Torah content for this week has also been sponsored by Nava, in memory of Adira Koffsky z"l, who loved learning and philosophy and was a real seeker of truth.
Thoughts on Losing a Student Like Adira
I have a document on my computer entitled "Students I Have Taught." I started this file in my first year of teaching (Fall 2009), and I update it each year. The document is a simple list of the names of each new student I taught that year. I created this document because each and every student I teach is dear to me, and I don't ever want to forget the name of a single one of them.
Last week I started a new document entitled "Students I Have Lost." On it are two names: Yocheved Gourarie (z”l), whose horrific death happened in December 2020, and now, Adira Koffsky, who was killed in February 2023 by a car that lost control on a rainy night. Yocheved was one of the first students I taught at Shalhevet. Adira was one of the last. Yocheved's death absolutely devastated me - but at the time, to my mind, it was a singular event. It wasn't until Adira's death that I realized: this is a category of loss. This is a list. And the list will only grow.
Unless you have been a teacher - or a student who had a close relationship with a teacher - you will not be able to truly relate to the special phenomenon that is a teacher-student relationship. And unless you were part of the world of Midreshet Shalhevet (a"h), and knew firsthand of my unique role there, then you will have a hard time grasping the nature of the teacher-student relationship I had with Adira. I would like to make a feeble attempt to describe that relationship here.
Let me begin with the context. I taught ten courses at Shalhevet. With very few exceptions (which I can count on my fingers), I taught every single student in the school's 13 year history, from its third year of existence until its last. The average student would have me as a teacher for 7-12 courses throughout her four years of high school.
Here are the facts about my teaching history with Adira: In 2018-2019, when Adira was in 9th grade, I taught her for an average of three hours a week in Gemara, two hours a week in Nach, 20 minutes a week in Tefilah, and 30 minutes a week in Study Skills. In 2019-2020, when Adira was in 10th grade, I taught her for an average of four hours a week in Chumash, three hours a week in Gemara, two hours a week in Nach, and 20 minutes a week in tefilah. If you do the math, that adds up to around 6 hours each week in 9th grade, and around 9 hours each week in 10th grade. And this doesn't count the many hours of discussion between classes, in special programs, and other informal in-school contexts. That's hundreds of hours spent delving into the Torah, engaging in discussion, and embarking on adventure after adventure in pursuit of truth.
When you spend that many hours with someone day in and day out over the course of two years - specifically, the critical years of emotional and intellectual growth during adolescence - you get to know them really well. You see them on their good days and their bad days. You see them interacting with friends and enemies. You see them through the eyes of their peers, their parents, and their other teachers. You become attuned to their personality, their moods, and their intellectual intuition. You become familiar with their mind through their public participation in class, and through the private thoughts they express in their homework assignments. When your whole goal in life is to help each of your students achieve their potential, you are constantly alert ("Constant vigilance!") for any and all ways to reach them wherever they're at. You agonize over how to help them overcome their obstacles, you rejoice when they make a breakthrough, and you doubly rejoice when you witness them experience their own surge of joy. Over time, you marvel as they transform from immature kids into thoughtful young adults. And when you're done teaching them, you feel that sense of "job well done" satisfaction as you "hand them off" and watch them begin the next chapter of their journey.
Chazal (the Sages) compare students to offspring. This is not an exaggeration, and is true on a number of levels. Rambam (Maimonides) explains: "your parents bring you into This World, but your rabbi, who teaches you wisdom, brings you into The World to Come" (Laws of Torah Study 5:1). Ralbag (Gersonides) takes a slightly different approach: "your parents begat your physical being, but your teacher begets your soul" (can’t track down the source at the moment). But what I feel most is the fact that a teacher, like a parent, plays a nurturing role in helping this other human being to become who they are. For those two years, I - along with the other members of the gifted team of teachers and administrators at Shalhevet - played an active role in shaping who Adira became, as a Jew and as a person. If that is not a type of parenting, then I don't know what is.
I learned of Adira's death a mere three hours after receiving the news of the death of Popo, my 98-year-old grandmother. My grief for these two back-to-back losses has become intermingled in ways that I am still struggling to process. From the outside, one might wonder, "This was your Popo! You've known and loved her for your whole life! Adira was just a student. How can you even compare the two losses?" That is a legitimate question which I can't quite answer, but writing the previous paragraph helped me to understand one of the reasons why Adira's death has hit me differently than Popo's. Popo was "my" grandmother, but she was who she was without any "contribution" on my part. Adira, on the other hand, was "my" student in an entirely different way. The hundreds of hours I spent discussing ideas with her and investing myself into her development makes me feel like I have lost a part of myself in a sense that isn't the case with Popo. Then, of course, there is the obvious fact that Popo died naturally at the ripe age of 98, whereas Adira died before reaching her 19th birthday in a senseless tragedy. Believe me, I'm not trying to compare these two losses, but at the same time, I can't help but experience them in relation to each other.
A Portrait of Adira as a Student
I'm going to attempt to write about what Adira was like as a student. It's no secret that she was a mix of great strengths and stubborn weaknesses. She was incredibly passionate about truth and was a real independent thinker, but at the same time, it was incredibly difficult to convince her to invest energy in something she didn't care about. One of the themes in the eulogies at her funeral was that when she was interested in something, she was really interested, but the difficulty was getting her interested.
I really appreciated how Dr. Goldstein captured Adira's paradoxical nature in her eulogy, which I'd like to quote from here:
Adira strongly subscribed to her own vision of the world and to her convictions of the ideal world, and she was not afraid to voice her thoughts honestly, almost to a fault. She was entirely open and sincere—never confrontational or trying to draw attention to herself, always soft-spoken and earnest as she conveyed to those around her how she saw things and why she saw them as she did. So while she was deeply interiorly-focused and comfortable with her conclusions and opinions, she never expected other people to see the world the same way and certainly never imposed it on others. In fact, with full humility and openness to learning and re-thinking, she actually exhibited a retreative quality, drawing away from confrontation while always keeping her ear open and finger on the pulse of all of the ideas around her."
I wrote a short Facebook post immediately upon learning of Adira’s death which included an excerpt from the letter of recommendation I wrote for her last January:
Adira was one of the last students I taught at Shalhevet (in 9th and 10th grade) before it closed. According to a news report I read, she was killed last night when a car lost control and struck her when she was walking on the street.
Adira and I bonded over the fact that we both identify as Slytherin - a fact that she proudly declared in her first email to me. As it so happens, this was also the topic of (what neither of us realized) would be her last email to me, this past January. I asked her about why she identified as Slytherin in high school. She responded:
"8th grade me leaned a lot on the ambitious trait of Slytherin. I still do, I’m not exactly cunning or sly. But I do want to accomplish a lot in my life, mostly with my writing. if you really want to get deep, in 12th grade it wasn’t just about ambition. I think I wanted to show that good people can come from anywhere."
This message, "that good people can come from anywhere," shows the type of Slytherin Adira was. I'd like to quote from a letter of recommendation I wrote for her last year:
"Adira was gregarious and sociable with her close friends but painfully shy in other situations. She had a strong moral compass, and never hesitated to speak up for her beliefs and to defend those whom she felt were being mistreated ... She set aside personal issues to make peace with classmates, even when it was they who were in the wrong. She went out of her way to befriend new students – not because she was a social butterfly, but out of a strong sense of identification with The Other and a desire to bring those who were marginalized into the fold. She took ownership of her deficiencies and dedicated herself to making improvements ..."
"She became more outspoken about her views, even when her classmates disagreed. No longer did she slink back when faced with social disapproval. Instead, she stood resolutely by the courage of her convictions. I have reason to believe that Adira will become one of those strong but silent behind-the-scenes leaders, making real change happen without any desire to be in the spotlight ...
"I look forward to seeing what Adira accomplishes as she begins the post-high school chapter of her life. If the growth she showed in 10th grade is any indication, then you can be certain she will go on to do great things."
I am heartbroken that her post-high school year ended up being the final chapter of her life. I am grateful for the opportunity to have taught her and helped her grow. Baruch Dayan ha'Emes.
Adira's profile as a student is best illustrated by her different types of involvement in my Grade-Level Chumash (Bible) class and my Honors Gemara (Talmud) class. My Chumash class was small, with only nine students. These students had VERY poor Hebrew skills, which only reinforced my proclivity to focus on discussion rather than language skills, for better or for worse. Whenever I prepared a class, there were two students I had in mind. I counted on these students to fuel the discussion and to keep me on my toes, knowing that if I said anything that wasn't sufficiently clear or supported by solid evidence and compelling reasoning, I would be called out and questioned. Adira was one of those students.
One of the last "heavy" in-person (i.e. pre-pandemic) discussions I remember having was when we reached the unit in Vayikra on the Torah's sexual morality. I knew going in that Adira and this other student had strong convictions about this topic and that I would have to be especially clear and especially tactful when broaching such a controversial and sensitive area. We spent a whopping five classes on this unit. It gave me such gratification (and relief!) to hear Adira pronounce her verdict at the end of the unit, saying: "What you taught us makes a lot of sense." I can't say that I persuaded her of (my understanding of) the Torah's position, but it was enough of a victory to know that I conveyed my understanding to her in a manner that she was able to hear, and which she deemed reasonable, despite any differences of opinion she may have had. And if there's one thing I know about Adira is that she was honest. If what I said didn't make sense to her, she wouldn't have said so.
Gemara was a different story. When Adira came to Shalhevet, she was very weak in Hebrew, and her Aramaic skills were non-existent. While my Chumash class had the reputation of being easy, my Gemara class was one of the most difficult courses in 9th and 10th grade. (I believe Adira attempted to drop it once or twice.) Each student's grade was determined almost entirely on the basis of oral quizzes, of which there were one or two each week. After adequate preparation and review, students would be called upon at random - selected by spinning what my students referred to as "The Wheel of Death," a Wheel of Fortune-esque digital wheel bearing each of their names - to read, translate, and explain portions of the Gemara. It is no exaggeration to say that for at least the first year in my class (if not longer), these quizzes terrified Adira. (Those who knew Adira can envision that wide-eyed look she got when terrified.)
It wasn't until 10th grade that she began applying herself in a different way. Slowly but surely, she made progress. Her reading became more fluent. Her confidence level rose. And, perhaps more importantly, she made the choice to study. In the end, she exceeded her own expectations. This was not the only time a student has made a huge improvement in my Gemara class, but considering Adira's personality, I know that all the credit goes to HER for this improvement. Nobody could change Adira's mind but her. The fact that she started improving her skills and her grades in 10th grade was entirely due to HER choice.
Final Words from Adira
I'll conclude by sharing two discoveries I made today - but first, a preface. One of the most prominent themes in Adira's eulogies was her creativity. She was an avid reader and writer of fantasy fiction, and a DM (dungeon master) of her local D&D (Dungeons & Dragons) group. (I would love to read a copy of the story she wrote about a vampire named “Chayim” who works for hatzalah, if anyone can provide me with a copy.) Sadly, I was entirely unaware of this side of her. I don't know if this is because she wasn't as open about her writing in 9th and 10th grade, or because there weren't many venues for it to show up in the particular classes I taught. When hearing about how much her creativity was a part of her life, I was a little sad that I never got to see any creative writing from her ... or so I thought.
In the olden days, all the homework I assigned was submitted by students via email. Only in the last few years did I switch to using Google Forms. After Adira died, I wanted to go back and read her homework assignments. Right now, I can't seem to access those Google Forms, either because the school account I used was deleted with the closure of the school, or because I deleted the Google Forms themselves.
I did, however, manage to find two emails that she sent directly to me at the end of her 10th grade year. One was a video of one of the final assignments I gave to my Gemara Class. Background: I created a list of 20 Torah she'Baal Peh (Oral Torah) terms, which I drilled into my students over the course of their two years in my class. Due to the pandemic, I was permitted to assign my students a final project instead of an actual exam. Part of this final project required students to produce something that would enable them to remember these 20 terms, even years down the line.
I'll be honest: I had no recollection of Adira's project. To be fair, June 2020 was a very stressful time, on multiple fronts. In fact, it's possible that I missed her email altogether in the chaos of that tumultuous time. For this reason, I was surprised to discover a video from Adira in my inbox when I searched for her name in my rabbischneeweiss gmail account. In the video, Adira shows the camera an ornate miniature chest of wooden drawers. She opens the drawers to reveal little scraps of paper. She explains how on each scrap of paper she wrote the Hebrew/Aramaic term, the translation, and - get this! - a definition of the term in the form of a Haiku. For example:
BRAISA:
Text not included.Outside of the Mishnah, butis as important.
And:
YEHUDA HA'NASSI:
Rav Judah the Prince.The author of the Mishnah.Broke law to save it.
So while I didn't get to see her creativity in story-writing and world building, I did receive this very special form of creativity that carried the same quirky stamp of Adira's personality. And at the end of the video, she turns the camera and addresses me directly, saying:
"So, yeah! That's my Gemara project. I hope you like it, Rabbi Schneeweiss!"
The last thing I'd like to share is a personal email that Adira sent me on June 5th, 2020 - at the end of her last year as my student, on the last day of classes of the last year of Shalhevet. The email was unprompted. It reads:
Dear Rabbi,
I just wanted to say from the bottom of my heart, thank you. For everything you've taught me. Going into highschool I had a lot of doubts about Torah and you helped with a lot of it. So thank you for helping me become a truth seeker.
Best of luck,
Adira
At the time, I responded:
Dear Adira,
Thank you so much! That really means a lot to me. I have enjoyed teaching you in all of our classes, and I am confident that you'll continue developing as a truth seeker even without Shalhevet.
And I do hope you'll send me a question from time to time!
I wish you all the best,
- Rabbi Schneeweiss
Adira is beyond the reach of my emails now, but if I could write her one last email, it would say:
Dear Adira,
It has been a pleasure and a privilege to teach you and learn with you for the time we shared at Shalhevet, and for the brief span of time you had on this earth. I am proud of you for staying true to yourself, and for continuing to seek truth on your own terms, in your own way. I will always cherish the memories of the gleam you'd get in your eyes upon discovering a satisfying answer to a question you had. It didn't matter whether it was an answer you heard or an answer you thought of yourself. All that matters was that it rang true. And although I cannot conceive of this next stage of your existence, it gives me some small measure of solace to know that your soul continues to gleam in the Olam ha'Emes (World of Truth) to which you have ascended.
Your teacher,
- Rabbi Schneeweiss
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