Letters to the Editor

All We Have Left Are the Memories

Dear Editor,

Time waits for no one.

Zev, a’h, is buried in Israel at Har HaZeiytim, thanks to his father.

Yes, losing a child is definitely the worst thing that can happen to you. It doesn’t get easier; you just learn to live with it. There are no words.

I’m lucky to have such wonderful family, friends, and organizations in the community that helped me along the way, Especially Larry Gordon, who every year allowed me to publish an article and picture of Zev with the help of one of Zev’s closest friends, Daniel Fishman, who was there for me every year.

I started a nonprofit in Zev’s memory called “Ner Zev.”

When it first occurred, I tried to raise funds and start a self-contained martial arts community for kids at risk in Israel called Ner Zev, but it never came to fruition.

Yearly for the first 10 years I visited the matzevah in Israel and met with all the boys who knew Zev, and did a yahrzeit dinner in the U.S., I am so appreciative of the people who offered me their homes for me to organize this dinner in and had learning done everywhere in his memory.

While I was sitting shivah someone shared a story with me and it turned out to be something invaluable and really saving me.

She had shared with me that she lost her husband and young child in the concentration camp and later on in life lost a daughter. She continued to explain how she stayed in bed for five years, not going anywhere, not involving herself with anything social. She gave up on life. And then she continued as she looked up at me and said, “Guess what Robin? It didn’t do anything. Don’t let that happen to you.”

To this day this is what has kept me getting up every morning.

I guess it was bashert that my mother gave me the middle name of Hope, Tikvah.

May his neshamah have an aliyah. May we all not suffer anymore sorrows and have health, happiness, and peace within the family, friends, and community.

Robin Brandes

Zev Friedman, a’h, Yahrzeit

Dear Editor,

Since the day I heard the news of the passing of my best friend Zev Friedman my entire life has changed. Although it was the darkest day of my life, it was the day that was a start to a new beginning. I couldn’t believe what was happening, my whole life just felt a void, but it led me to an introspection that impacted me for the past 20 years.

Let me explain, despite Zev’s age and height he was unusually confident and he was a leader in his own right. He always found a way to adapt to his new surroundings, make friends, and take new things and develop them into opportunities, no matter how farfetched or unseeming. Anyone who knew Zev, was well aware he would make the best parties, sleepovers, or day events, snowball fights, and birthdays and invite anyone and everyone no matter who or where they were from. It could have been a boy from a more yeshivish school or less, cool or not, a ger and anyone who was even a little different, Zev would embrace them and lead them into his life. He introduced me to his camps, friends, trips, and even learning programs. I still remember how Zev got me to go learn by the Zichron Aryeh Yeshiva for night learning and Dougies. It was not typical for kids to do this after school, but Zev always wanted to try new things and include others in his new opportunities. On our snowboarding tripes, skate parks, and roller coaster rides, Zev was always the one to take the first chance, no matter the fear. He was charismatic and took any chance with no embarrassment to get up on a stage and spellbound an entire crowd. It wasn’t his money, possessions, physical strength, nor height that drew people to him but it was his pure motivation and determination, that no matter who you are, you can make a difference. One rosh yeshiva commented to someone “I know that Zev was not just a regular boy, but he was ‘great boy’ who had such a power of influence on others.” This influence has impacted me up until today.

Although the pain of his loss felt like a destruction in my life, since the day of his passing I had made a commitment that I would be there for my friends no matter where they are and what they are, embracing others and living beyond our personal shell. It should be noted that since Zev’s passing, his beloved mother Robin [who I am grateful to have had in this journey] had arranged nearly every year yahrzeit dinners for all of Zev’s friends to commemorate him and talk about old memories and what we can do to build a greater future. Surprisingly, these events didn’t just include Zev’s close friends but for almost 10 years swarms of kids and adults were all drawn to this special occasion and the reason is because that was Zev, a person who embodied the many, led the many, and impacted an entire community. It was these dinners and commemorations that I was truly able to grow from and help shape the way to build a better future for myself and for others.

It is my wish that all of our friends and acquaintances still remember Zev and utilize his past life to help build a greater future. May his neshamah have an aliyah.

Sincerely,

Daniel Fishman

Let’s Talk About How We Value Our Teachers

Dear Editor,

Welcome to 2026. Our yeshiva day schools, Bais Yaakovs, and yeshivos are thriving. We have beautiful, state-of-the-art buildings, expanding administrations, and devoted rebbeim whom we respect, cherish, and rightly honor.

And then there are the teachers.

The truth is uncomfortable: teachers have become the overlooked backbone of the yeshiva system.

Do we value our teachers? We all say we do. But if we’re being honest, do we really?

Teachers spend more waking hours with our children than we do. They’re not just delivering curriculum; they’re shaping middos, building confidence, managing social dynamics, and often serving as a steady emotional anchor in a child’s day.

We thank them. We celebrate Teacher Appreciation Week. We send in muffins, notes, and small gifts. Those gestures are kind—and appreciated—but they are not compensation.

Let’s talk tachlis.

If we truly value teachers, their salaries would reflect it. Their working conditions would reflect it. Their professional respect would reflect it.

Instead, many are expected to be available around the clock—fielding late-night texts about forgotten sweatshirts, missing assignments, and special exceptions. They spend hours outside the classroom planning, differentiating, and problem-solving—unpaid, unseen, and simply expected.

And still, we hear:

“They only work ten months a year.”

“They have summers off.”

“It’s a part-time job.”

If that were true, people would be lining up to do the job. They are not.

We are watching a quiet but steady erosion of the teaching profession in our community. Talented, capable young people are choosing other careers—not because they don’t care about chinuch, but because they can’t afford to.

And who can blame them?

In some schools, teachers are told outright that raises are not part of the system. Their salaries stagnate while expectations grow. Innovation is demanded. Availability is assumed. Dedication is required. But opportunities for growth lag behind.

A young teacher has a baby? Minimal or no paid leave. Sometimes there are even financial penalties for time off.

A teacher wants to enrich her classroom? Pay for it yourself. Basic supplies? Cut corners. Make do.

All while tuition continues to rise.

To be clear, there are schools that treat their teachers with the respect they deserve. Those institutions are leading the way—and they should be recognized. But too many others are falling short, and it’s no longer something we can politely ignore.

Here’s the bottom line:

You cannot demand excellence in education while underpaying the educators.

You cannot expect passion to make up for financial strain.

And you cannot build a system on the backs of teachers and call it sustainable.

If we want strong schools, we need strong teachers. And if we want strong teachers, we need to pay them like they matter—because they do.

This is not about perks or occasional appreciation. This is about salaries that reflect the critical role teachers play. It’s about raises, benefits, and basic professional dignity.

It’s about priorities.

We say we care about chinuch. We say our children are our future.

Now it’s time to prove it.

Pay teachers like they are shaping the next generation—because they are.

And if we don’t?

We won’t just lose good teachers.

We’ll stop getting them altogether.

So what can be done, practically?

Give teachers raises. Boards should empower heads of school, principals, and roshei yeshiva to call teachers in and say: you are doing a great job, thank you. For your hard work, we are increasing your salary—$1,000, $1,500, $2,000, or more—because we value you.

The result is obvious: teachers benefit financially, morale improves, productivity rises, and our children gain.

Common sense in 2026.

Sincerely,

A community member whose children have benefited from outstanding teachers and who wants to see meaningful change

Congratulations Is In Order

Dear Editor,

Our mayor here in the Village of Lawrence has been outspoken on behalf of his constituents and deserves recognition. The placement of cameras within the village will be a great deterrent to any type of crime that could be committed, from harassment to theft and worse. Our direct exposure to an area of NYC that is gaining in homelessness, as well as the displacement of those being thrown out of areas experiencing immense gentrification in places along the A line such as Bed Stuy and Harlem, which brings direct access to our borders is worrisome to say the least. The border discussion brings me to the water issue here in the village that is painfully horrific as I have been in touch with several officials and hope to have an answer on how we can get better water from the Catskill region here in Lawrence.

Reuven Guttman

Lawrence NY