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Jane Taubenfeld Cohen

Married to Jewish Education

I did not write this post.  A friend did. Her struggle is anonymous and resonates with so many spouses of the educational leaders with whom  I work. Although she thought her words could not be published, I chose to share them because I want her and others like her to feel seen.

The Silent Struggle of Being Married to a Jewish Educator

Being married to someone in Jewish education can be both rewarding and incredibly isolating. On one hand, you admire the work your spouse does to support students, parents, and the community, often sacrificing personal time to go above and beyond. But on the other hand, you face the unintended consequences of their role, leaving you feeling excluded, judged, and at times, utterly alone.

Over the years, I’ve lived in many communities across different states, as many Jewish day teachers and administrators have, spending much of my life immersed in Jewish education through the lens of my spouse’s role. My experiences, as well as those of my friends who are also married to Jewish educators, have given me insight into this unique and often misunderstood reality. While I truly love and value the community I live in now, this is not about any one community—it’s a collective reflection from years being married to the field.

In Jewish education, the line between professional and personal life is blurred. Your spouse’s work often becomes the center of community discussions. Parents, students, and staff sometimes view Jewish day school administrators and teachers as barriers instead of advocates—overlooking the countless hours spent ensuring that rules exist to protect and teach, not to punish. When those same people make disparaging comments about your spouse—whether they’re an administrator or a teacher—it’s a deeply painful experience because guess what (spoiler alert): we are human.

It doesn’t end there. As the spouse of a Jewish educator, you have to think twice about social interactions. Can you invite this family to your home for a Shabbat meal? What if they’re upset about a decision your spouse made? Even celebrating communal events can feel awkward when you’re excluded from social circles because people would rather not mix professional relationships with personal ones.

What’s even more isolating is the unique nature of Jewish education as a profession. Unlike other jobs, where career moves are private and personal, leaving a Jewish educational role becomes a public event. Everyone knows. Everyone talks. The community narrative about why someone leaves or moves on can quickly overshadow their years of service and sacrifice.

For spouses and children of Jewish educators, this level of public scrutiny is exhausting. There’s no safe space to vent or process these feelings without risking your spouse’s professional reputation. Sharing frustrations with ‘friends’ in the community can possibly feel like a betrayal, or worse, career suicide. The fear of being misunderstood or judged keeps you silent, even when the opposite is what  you desperately need, someone to talk to.

I’ve been married for 20+ years, and in that time, my husband and I have been part of many schools and communities. These reflections are not only my own but are gathered from conversations with others in similar positions. Together, we’ve experienced the joys and challenges of this life. While we deeply admire and support our spouse’s commitment to their work, we often find ourselves wondering: Who is there for us?

This is particularly true in communities where educators and administrators are fully embedded in the social and communal fabric usually outside of the New York area. Unlike areas where Jewish educators may live outside the communities they serve, in most places ‘out of town’, they are part of the same shuls, schools, and circles as the families they support. This proximity amplifies the need for thoughtful boundaries and genuine inclusion.

Over the years, I’ve also been fortunate to witness the opposite—people who actively support, respect, and include Jewish educators and their families. These individuals go out of their way to express gratitude, extend invitations, and create space for meaningful connections. They see the humanity behind the role and understand that educators and administrators are part of the same communal tapestry. These champions demonstrate that it’s possible to disagree with decisions while still maintaining kindness and respect. Their actions remind me that even small gestures—a thank-you text to my husband or I for hosting a school event, a check in message, or an invitation to a Shabbat meal—can make a profound difference in building a sense of belonging for educators and their families.

The Jewish community places such a strong emphasis on inclusion, respect, and togetherness. Yet, when it comes to those who dedicate their lives to Jewish education, that sense of inclusion sometimes disappears. It doesn’t have to be this way. A little more awareness, empathy, and kindness could go a long way in changing the narrative—not just for educators, but for their families who stand beside them.

A Charge to the Community

  1. Silence the Talk

Be an upstander. Show your children, friends, and community members that you value what your children’s leaders and teachers do. Even if you don’t agree with every decision, respect should be non-negotiable. Please don’t engage in negative conversations at the Shabbat table. Protect your school, protect your leaders and teachers, and teach your children to do the same.

  1. Be Inclusive

Recognize that your teacher, principal, or head of school has a family and is as much a part of the community as the person you sit next to in shul. They should be treated with the same respect if not more. They are human and have feelings. They want to feel like they belong in the community and deserve the same respect as the next person.

  1. Say Thank You

A simple “thank you” goes a long way. Show gratitude for the countless hours your school teachers and leaders put into their work, and model that gratitude for your children.

The Talmud (Bava Metzia 33a) teaches that the respect due to a teacher can even be greater than that owed to a parent because a teacher provides eternal life through Torah knowledge. This highlights the broader principle of honoring those who nurture and lead us.  Let us commit to showing kavod to the educators and administrators who dedicate their lives to our children and our community.

Respect begins with us. Let’s make sure that our actions reflect the values we wish to see in our schools and in our children. Together, we can create an environment that uplifts, rather than isolates, those who give so much of themselves for the greater good.

About the Author
Jane is a leadership coach and works exclusively with Jewish Day Schools. She also spent 2 years working at Prizmah where she worked primarily with leadership in schools. Jane was previously a Head of School for 22 years at a Solomon Schechter School in Massachusetts, where she and her husband live. While she was a Head, she was asked to become a mentor in DSLTI, the Day School Leadership Training Institute and has worked with them ever since, now as Senior Mentor. After the South Area Solomon Schechter, she came to work at the YU School Partnership where she eventually became the Executive Director. A significant part of her work was leadership coaching even then. She loves that work because of the process of working with someone, as a new or experienced leader, to build their capacity to lead. As school leadership tends to be a lonely job, having someone who is rooting for you and there to support you is critically important. Jane is also blessed to be a mentor and teacher in the You Lead program.
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