Article by Rabbi Shmuel Wagner: I was marking my students’ tests a few years ago, and I got to the test of a boy with terrible handwriting, whose test needed a navigational guide to decipher what he wrote. What happened next was a tremendous learning experience for me.
By Rabbi Shmuel Wagner
Ask a student of the Talmud to explain the difference between a “shayla” and a “kashya”, and the answer will be, that while a shayla is an innocent query, requesting information, a kashya is an attack, challenging a premise.
For example, if I am deciding between two similar items and I ask, “What is the difference between these two items?”, that would be a shayla. Conversely, a 4th grader in trouble for ditching class together with his classmate who was let off the hook, and would turn to the teacher and ask, “What is the difference between me and Chaim Yankel?!” voila, that is a kashya.
And that leads me to my kashya on “The Four Kashyas”:
Shouldn’t they be “The Four Shaylas”? After all, the child is merely asking “What is the difference between tonight and other nights? Why are we doing these strange things?”. Asking, not challenging. Why “Kashyas”[1]?!
Moving ahead a few pages in Maggid,we all know about the “Arba Bonim”. These are the four types of children (people, really) who ask different types of questions. Wait a minute, if they’re asking questions, isn’t that the Ma Nishtana? Which of the children was the one asking the Ma Nishtana a few pages back?
But of course, the answer is, they all are.
The wise child, inquisitive and curious, asks shaylas. The wicked child, attacking and disputing, asks kashyas. And the simple child, alas, does not even know what he is asking.
But dear parent or teacher, here is the catch. Here is what makes your job most intricate and complex, requiring much nuanced attention and care:
While the character and intention of the child might vary from wise to wicked and from careless to clueless, the words being used by each of these children might very well be the exact same.[2] They might all turn to you and ask the same, “Why are we doing this?” and you must listen, not only to what the question is, but to where the question is coming from.
Because, as we see in the continuation of Maggid, we must answer each child’s question in the manner it was asked. These three children asked the same Ma Nishtana, but each receives their own, individualized response, tailored for their nature and disposition.
Listen closely to their words, listen to their body language, listen to their expressions. But mainly, listen. When you listen, when you really listen, to what they are saying, you will see that the words of one child that sound like the same “Ma Nishtana” as that of all the previous children was in truth an entirely different universe. While one’s question was a “מה העבודה הזאת לכם?” of a rebellious spirit, another’s might just be a “מה העדות והחוקים והמשפטים?” of an inspired soul.
And while they are all different from one other, they are no less important than one another. Each one is attended to, each one is answered, and each one walks away from the Seder or the classroom feeling seen and heard.[3]
[And even once you master this art of personalized learning and differentiated instruction for all your different inquisitors, be aware that there is also the child at the back of the classroom, forgotten but not gone, who did not even ask. Disengaged and dispirited, the She’eino Yodei’a Lish’ol is not “the one who does not know”, rather “the one who does not care”. And it is your job to fuel his flame, kindle his curiosity, and ignite his interest.]
I was marking my students’ tests a few years ago, and I got to the test of “that” boy; the boy who had terrible handwriting, whose test needed to have come with a navigational guide to decipher what he wrote as the answer.
When it got to translating the word “יכנס”, it looked like this student wrote “father” (with a missing “h”, but that would just be typical). I started marking it as incorrect.
But something felt off. “יכנס” is a relatively easy word, and this was a student who knew his stuff. Why would he write “father”?
That prompted me to look closer. I looked closer.
He did not write “father”, he wrote the correct answer – “Enter”.
The 1st letter was not an “F” with a random third line toward the bottom, it was an “E” with the bottom line too high up. The 2nd letter was not an “a”, it was an “n” with the initial vertical line too far from the rest of the letter.
(I guess if I ever need a new job, I’ll look into becoming a hieroglyphist…)
Wow.
If this was not the student who it was – a student who I assumed knew the correct answer – I would have marked it incorrect and moved on. Only because it did not make sense to me that he would write an incorrect answer, did I take the extra moment to look carefully. Ouch.
That was a tremendous learning experience for me. As teachers, as parents, as anyone in a position of chinuch (whether you like it or not…) we need to hear what the children are saying; not what we think they are saying.
Perhaps this is why we call it “The Four Kashyas” and not “Shaylas”. We acknowledge that there is a child called the Rasha, and he asks kashyas, not shaylas. And we remind ourselves to pay attention even to his confrontational questions, to pay attention even to him. It is geshmak to deal with the chochom’s insightful questions, it is easy to deal with the Tam’s simple questions [and it does not take much to deal with the She’eino Yodei’a Lish’ol’s questions… 😊]. What we might tend to avoid is dealing with the Rasha’s difficulties and challenges.
But if we learn to listen to each and every child, and to help each child on their level, allowing them to grow from where they currently are and to become the best yid that they can be, we can then know that we have fulfilled our obligation of Vehigad’ta Levincha. We can then turn to Hashem and say, “Tatteh, mir velen ba dir fregen Ad Mosai!”, bring us to the time of the ultimate Zman Cheiruseinu, when the children – the gidulim shegidalnu, the children into which we invested all our attention, love and care – will parade on the front lines, with Moshiach Now!
*
[1] Yes, I know that the go-to answer to my kashya is, “So that the children will ask”. I did. Now what?
[2] See Kli Yakar on Shemos 12:26, who points out the well-known wonder on the Haggada using the same answer to the Rasha and the She’eino Yodei’a Lish’ol. The Kli Yakar answers, this child may be sitting in front of you with his mouth shut, and it is on you to figure out if he is an apathetic Rasha or an ignorant She’eino Yodei’a Lish’ol…
[3] See Igros Kodesh Vol. 20 p. 213.
I like it!
Very nice, but let’s not forget the importance the Rebbeim placed on neat handwriting. As the Rebbe pointed out, all the Rebbeim had a very neat and legible handwriting and that this is something should be emulated (the Frierdiker Rebbe recounts how he spent hours as a child copying out Likkutei Torah so as to practise writing. The Rebbe further emphasizes that just as speaking clearly is of importance so, is legibility of handwriting.
Beautiful. Thank you for sharing this.