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What I Learned From My Daughter's Seminary Year
As a fifth-grade rebbi, life was always about trying to make ends meet. My salary wasn't bad, from a rebbi's perspective, but it was not nearly sufficient to support a family with seven children. I worked two side jobs, and my wife taught, as well. Baruch Hashem, our life was hectic. Every morning, I would get up at five-thirty to learn with a chavrusah, daven at seven, and try to be home by eight in order to help Chani* out with the kids. After they were all fed and packed up for school, yeshiva, local seminary, and what have you, I would rush to my yeshiva to make it in time for class. My wife worked in the afternoons so I had to make sure to be home when the younger ones came home from school, and as soon as she got home, I left for my late afternoon teaching job. My kids were usually fed and had already done their homework by the time I got home, thanks to my great wife. Our home was small but cozy, and when Yamim Tovim came around, we made sure to sign up for all the discounted food sales, and I refrained from overspending on Matzos and daled minim. Our children wore hand-me-downs until they got older, and generally, we tried to save where we could.
Seminary in Eretz Yisrael was never an option for any of my three eldest daughters. They all attended local seminaries and got married to fine Bnei Torah. We made simple weddings and did our best to support our daughters while their husbands still learned.
Then came Dinah, our fourth daughter, and fifth child. When she was in the third grade, she was struggling in school, and we ended up having to send her to a school where there are few Kollel people in the parent body. When she entered twelfth grade, she causally mentioned about applying to seminaries in Eretz Yisrael. While we realized that going to Israel was her preference, we were not inclined to send her there and ignored her comment. Our logic was that we did not believe that she thought that we’d give in and, therefore, tried to avoid getting into an unnecessary argument. But that first remark was only the beginning. A few weeks later, Dinah mentioned that her friends were
all attending one of two seminaries. She wanted us to apply to both to ensure that she would get accepted to at least one of them. It suddenly dawned on me that this was going to be an issue. "We did not send your older sisters to Eretz Yisrael, and our finances are not in any better shape than before we married off three daughters. There will be no discussion." Dinah turned all red and stormed away from the Shabbos table.
After giving us the cold shoulder for a few days, she explained to my wife how desperate she was to go and how lonely she would be in a local seminary without any of her friends staying stateside. My wife commiserated with her and tried to explain our reasoning a little more gently than I had. But it was to no avail. Dinah was being stubborn and refused to take no for an answer. Aside from being moody when she was home, she also invited friends who told my wife about the seminary they would be going to and how much it would mean to them if Dinah was there.
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While we were not really moved by her arguments, moods, and sulking, it still created a toxic environment in our house. After a while, we felt that our youngest two were suffering from this situation and agreed to apply to both the seminaries, but we told Dinah that even if she got accepted we might not allow her to go, which she was okay with. She figured that if she got in, we would not stop her from going. After spending a hefty fee to apply to those seminaries, Dinah nervously prepared for her meeting with the seminaries' menahelim. We had mixed feelings when both seminaries immediately accepted her. Of course, we were thrilled
that she made a good impression in those meetings, but I knew that now I would have to agree for her to go. Though I had heard many horror stories about the costs of seminaries, these two seemed to be on the higher side. They each asked for thirty thousand dollars a year. And that was just the base price. There were other expenses such as the flights, trips, spending money and other things. As I looked over the bill, I started feeling faint and asked my wife what to do. She was wary of not allowing Dinah to go, but on the other hand, she saw our balance sheets and realized that it was impossible. I called the seminary tuition office and asked if there was any flexibility with the tuition, but I was laughed off the phone. I broached the subject with Dinah and she shrieked in horror at the mere suggestion that she not go after all that she had "been through." My wife wanted us to stick to our principles, but I caved and convinced myself that I could take on another job or extended hours at one of my jobs and pull through for one year. Dinah was thrilled and grateful that she had gotten her way, and I was queasy, yet relieved, when we saw her off at the airport. I took on a night seder job at a local mesivta and hoped to cover the rest from other sources of income that presented themselves over the summer.
But taking on such a significant financial commitment was a huge mistake. Soon after Dinah went to Eretz Yisrael, our van broke down and needed a repair job that cost several thousand dollars. After Sukkos, we had hurricane-level winds and rain, and our roof suffered tremendous damage. The water leaking into our house did not help matters. Then I had to come up with a large sum of money which was earmarked for the seminary. It seemed as if Hashem was punishing me for my choice to take on a tuition that I could barely afford. Right after Chanukah, my youngest began to have trouble at school. The yeshiva realized that he was being bullied and dealt with the problem, but his
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psyche was badly affected, and he needed therapy. Each session was over a hundred dollars, and our son would need more than just a few. Whereas a few months ago I thought that I had our finances figured out, I was now flailing with no good options left.
With all these bills coming due, I resorted to taking out a small loan with not insignificant interest, since there was nowhere else to turn. However, bills kept piling up, and I couldn't afford to make my payments, and my debt ballooned. After one year in Eretz Yisrael, Dinah returned from seminary, unaware of what had transpired. She wanted to go to college to earn a degree and asked us for help, at which point, I broke down and told her where things were holding. She listened in shock and disbelief. Dinah felt terribly guilty and blamed herself, but we tried to assuage her and told her that, as parents, this was our responsibility. Dinah, however, took it very hard and struggled to deal with her guilt. She refused to start shidduchim in order to prevent us from getting into more debt and did not buy herself any new clothing, although she desperately needed to. Her older brother got engaged a few months later, and, as expected, we could not come up with our part of the wedding expenses. This of course led to some tense conversations with our new mechutanim, with whom we were honest during the dating process. While we told them that we were in a difficult situation, they thought we could come up with some money for the wedding. "I don't know how I'm paying for our Shabbos food this week," I told a stunned mechutan. In the end, they agreed to take on all of the expenses of the wedding itself, and should we ever be in a position to repay them our portion, we agreed to do so. Their generosity saved the shidduch. But we still had to somehow come up with money for a hairstylist, makeup artist and other wedding costs.
My wife, who comes from a Modern Orthodox background, decided that our troubles were weightier than her pride and shame and went to her brother to ask for a long-term, interest-free loan. After she told him how we had gotten ourselves into this mess, she begged him for help. He had never approved of our lifestyle and, at every opportunity, told me to get a real job. But in this instance, he was more than gracious and, without speaking, opened his checkbook and said, "Don't you dare try to pay me back." She didn't look at the amount until she came home. When she got home, she took the check out of her pocketbook and dropped it in shock. He had made out the check for two-hundred thousand dollars. It was a ticket out of our troubles. She tried calling him, but he ignored all of her calls. Finally, she called me in yeshiva and told me the news. At last the weight of the debt and creditors was lifted from my shoulders, and I suddenly realized the extent of the burden I had been carrying over the last few years. I had always tried to stay positive and suppressed my feelings which now finally bubbled to the top. The pressure combined with the feeling of relief simply broke me. I slumped into a chair in the teachers’ lounge and broke down crying. I couldn't finish teaching and went home, where my wife and I immediately told Dinah, who also started crying. We promptly paid back all of our debts and were able to resume living a normal, debt-free life. Not entirely debt free, as we are entirely indebted to my brother-in-law, who refuses to talk about the money. Had it not been for him, I don't know how we could have kept going. While a large part of the blame for falling into this debt lies with us, the truth is that society's pressures were a large part of why we allowed Dinah to go to seminary in Eretz Yisrael. Though our older daughters married fine boys, we had heard from a number of shadchanim that suggestions for them were turned down because they did not go to seminary in Eretz Yisrael. This was a factor in us choosing to pay the exorbitant tuition and send Dinah. I have since heard from numerous other families who also took out loans to be able to send their daughters to seminary. Rabbanim should start coming out against seminary just like they rail against luxuries such as people going to a Pesach hotel or spending yom tov in Orlando, Florida. If not, many more people will get mired in debt, and not everyone will have the option of asking wealthy family members for help. (*Names changed to protect privacy)
