The Special Children’s Center

By Malkie Hirsch-Magence

“I have learned much from my teachers, more from my friends, but from my students—more than all of them.”

Ahava quoted this line from the Talmud, and it hit me right in the heart. It felt so true—especially after this week.

I’ve had moments like that before. Back when I volunteered with TJJ for Moms, I remember thinking I was there to give, to guide, to share. But more often than not, I walked away feeling like I’d gained more than I gave.

Still, nothing quite compared to what I experienced when I finally had the chance to visit The Special Children’s Center in Lawrence.

I grew up right around the corner from this building. It used to be a gym that everyone went to for years—one of those neighborhood fixtures that felt like it would always be there. Lately, every time I’d drive past it while dropping my daughter at gymnastics, I’d wonder what was happening inside those same walls.

Now I know—and I’m still thinking about it.

Inside is a place built entirely for kids who were born into a world that doesn’t always make space for their needs. It’s full of color, laughter, music, and people who show up every single day with love.

It started back in 1996, when Jenine and Chaya saw something that needed to exist: a place where kids who didn’t quite fit into typical schools or programs could have a space of their own.

They started small—just a rented apartment. But it grew. And grew.

Today, The Special Children’s Center has four campuses, including a farm, and plans for a local adult home (Lakewood already has three) so that their mission continues well beyond childhood.

What do they do? Everything.

It’s a home, a school, a therapy center, a social space—a world built around belonging. They never turn a child away. Their staff and volunteers show up with patience and joy, giving these kids something all of us crave: a place to feel seen, safe, and loved.

My friend had been nudging me for months to visit. Her grandson goes there, and she kept telling me, “You have to see it. You have to write about it.”

So I joined their WhatsApp group, not really sure what to expect. And now, after seeing what goes on inside, I understand why she was so insistent.

The way this community steps up is remarkable. Between the group homes, schools, and endless programs, families of children with special needs have a place to turn—people to call, support systems to lean on, and resources that make daily life just a bit easier.

I went with my daughter one Sunday to check it out, and within minutes, I was completely overwhelmed—in the best way.

Every room was alive.

In one, there was music class, with kids singing along while high school girls gently held and supported them. In another, teenage boys were preparing for a challah bake, while an older girls’ group was deep into arts and crafts.

They’re even opening a tablecloth gemach, giving the older students something purposeful to manage—a small job with real responsibility and pride attached to it.

Down the hall were sensory gyms, therapy rooms, and even shaving cream and sand stations—tools for play and development that also happen to look like pure fun.

Behind all of this is a network of people working nonstop to make it happen. The Center’s WhatsApp groups are always buzzing—organizing meals, coordinating rides, setting up holiday programs, or sending dinner to a group home.

There’s no ego in any of it—just a steady hum of giving.

Walking through those halls, I felt something I hadn’t felt anywhere else. The joy there is contagious. It’s a home away from home—but with music playing, kids laughing, and counselors dancing right alongside them.

The children aren’t defined by their challenges. They’re busy living, learning, creating, and smiling through it all.

And the people who come to help? They leave with their hearts completely full.

There’s something extraordinary about a place where everyone belongs. The Special Children’s Center isn’t just a program; it’s a movement of kindness, acceptance, and light.

It reminded me that the most meaningful giving happens quietly, in the moments where no one’s watching—like a Sunday morning in a bright building filled with song.

And maybe that’s what Ahava’s quote really meant: Sometimes the people we think we’re helping are actually the ones teaching us how to love better.

To donate, volunteer, or learn more about The Special Children’s Center, visit thecenternj.org. 

Malkie Gordon Hirsch Magence is a native of the Five Towns community, a mom of five, a writer, and a social media influencer.