Many years ago, before email and cell phones, I was teaching a high school Tanakh class. In the course of that class, I was asked a question and responded by saying, “It’s just like [name of student] who has to take insulin for her Type 1 diabetes.” No one blinked an eye, the class ended and so did the day.
At the end of every day, before I say Kriat Shema, I review in my head all of the conversations I have had that day to process them, to see if there’s something I should do about them, and specifically, if I owe anyone an apology for the way I spoke to them. That night, I realized that I had outed [name of student] when perhaps her classmates did not know of her condition, or perhaps she didn’t want it brought up.
There was no school the following day, so I picked up the phone–the landline phone–and I called her house. I asked to speak to [name of student] and when I got her, I apologized for mentioning her diabetes in class without her express consent. Her response was, “What!?!” She could not believe that a teacher was calling her to apologize, especially as it turned out that she had no issue with my alluding to her diabetes. That of course was not the point. The point was that when a teacher wrongs a student, they need to ask mechilah [forgiveness] of them, just as they would ask forgiveness to anyone else they had wronged.
By the same token, for the 30 years I taught in Jewish day schools, every year, before Yom Kippur, I would say the same thing to each class:
We are bidden to ask for forgiveness and to receive it before Yom Kippur, as God cannot absolve us of our misdeeds unless the person we have wronged has done so. Although I am your teacher, or perhaps especially because I am your teacher, and there is a power differential between us, it is easy for me to treat you in a way less than you deserve. If I have misjudged you, spoken to you harshly, not taken you seriously enough, or if I have spoken about you to someone else in a case that was unnecessary, please forgive me. I ask this sincerely; if you know of something I have done for which I need forgiveness, I hope you will forgive me.
Invariably, the kids took my request quite seriously, and most often, some of them came up to me and in return, asked my forgiveness for their complaints, wandering attention, or disruptions in class in addition to a host of other misdeeds, real or imagined.
I never felt as if I was demeaning myself by apologizing to my students. We are all equal before God, no matter what the age difference or power differential. To me, this act of contrition conveyed some important lessons for my students:
Jewish tradition is serious about people asking others for forgiveness. It is not pro forma nor is it optional.
Teachers should and many do see their students as real people with needs and feelings that deserve to be recognized.
In the eyes of God, no matter who we are, we are all equally deserving of unlimited respect.
As we enter the season of Yamim Nora’im, the Days of Awe, where we attempt to make amends to other individuals and God, let us remember to treat our students with the utmost respect, as they deserve, and to ask forgiveness of them if we don’t live up to our own expectations.
May this year be a year of good learning, close connections, and peaceful interactions among our students and ourselves.