August 26, 2026|י"ג אלול ה' אלפים תשפ"ו The School Year Begins. So Does Our Teshuva By Rabbi Jonathan Muskat

The School Year Begins. So Does Our Teshuva

My youngest son is now studying at Yeshivat Hakotel in Israel for his gap year.

A few weeks ago, while we were driving to pick up some last-minute things, he turned to me and said:

“I wish I had learned more with you when I was in high school. I regret that.”

It was incredibly sweet to hear. And, if I'm honest, it also made me feel a little guilty.

Did I make enough time to learn with him?

His comment stayed with me, especially because of the timing.

School is beginning. And Elul is beginning.

And I've been thinking about how differently we approach these two moments.

When school begins, we naturally focus on our children.

Will they get a good teacher or rebbe?
The right class?
Good friends?
The opportunities they need to grow?

We want to give them every possible advantage.

And when Elul begins, we turn that same concern toward ourselves:

How can I become better?

Maybe I want to learn more, daven better, or work on my middot.

Something is striking about those two questions.

When we think about our own growth, we look at ourselves. When we think about our children's growth, we often look at their school.

But perhaps we need to look in the mirror in both cases.

Of course, schools matter. A great teacher can change a child's life. The right educational environment can bring out potential that might otherwise remain hidden.

We can outsource some of the teaching.

But we cannot outsource the example our children see at home.

The Torah tells parents:

“V’shinantam l’vanecha” — “You shall teach them to your children.”

Schools are partners in that responsibility, but our children are learning from us long before they understand that they are being taught.

They see whether Torah matters to us.

Whether we make time for learning.

How we speak to our spouse.

How we respond when we're angry.

Whether we apologize when we're wrong.

Whether our Judaism is something we practice – or something we merely ask them to practice.

Our children are being educated by us every day.

And that means that one of the most important educational questions at the beginning of the school year isn't:

“What kind of teacher will my child have?”

It's:

“What kind of parent will my child have?”

Will I make time to learn with my child?

Will I model the middot I want my child to develop?

Will I put down my phone and really listen?

Will my child see me working on myself?

These questions don't replace our concern about school. They put it in perspective.

The school is our partner. But we are still our children's primary educators.

And perhaps this gives us a different way to think about teshuva.

During Elul, we ask:

“What do I need to change?”

As parents, perhaps we should add:

“What do my children need to see me change?”

Maybe my teshuva this year isn't only about learning another daf or adding another tefillah.

Maybe it's becoming more patient at home.

Listening more carefully.

Apologizing more quickly.

Making time to learn with my child.

Putting the phone away.

Letting my children see that I am also still becoming.

Because our children don't need perfect parents.

They need parents who are growing.

And perhaps that is one of the most powerful things we can give them.

My son's words reminded me how quickly these years pass. Some opportunities don't come back.

So as we pray that our children have wonderful teachers, good friends, and a successful school year, perhaps we should add another prayer:

May we become the parents they need us to be.

Because maybe the greatest lesson we can give our children this year won't come from their teacher at all.

It will come from watching us become the people we want them to become.

And perhaps that is one of the deepest forms of teshuva:

Not simply telling our children how to grow, but allowing them to watch us grow.