Friday Dispatch: Teachable Moments
Without the schoolmarm vibe
One of the collages I made last Shabbat
Friday greetings,
A couple of nights ago, my mom and I were chatting on the phone. She asked how “the kids” were doing. Predictably, I started kvelling. But when she offered me a parenting compliment, I immediately deflected.
“Oh, “ I said, “I don’t have so much influence over them now that they’re no longer living under my roof.”
She was quick to respond. “Don’t kid yourself. You’re still their teacher. And mine!”
At this point, we crossed into familiar banter territory. “You’re still MY teacher! You’ve taught me everything I know!”
“Everything?” I could practically see the wink in her voice.
Then we laughed and laughed, as we often do.
Speaking of teachers, one of my favorite writers on Substack, Ozzie Nogg, wrote this week about taking off any masks she might have worn in the past. The wisdom of this almost 91-year-old has to do with “discarding artifice” and cultivating “the ability to let go of the mindset that clings to how things should be rather than accepting how they are.” Can I get an amen?
Ozzie’s words point in the direction I want to keep growing, one where “detached involvement” replaces codependent and anxiety-driven motives. One where relationships sit firmly on foundations of deep trust, reciprocity, and honest communication (not to mention sweetness, humor, and grace!).
Where the past decade was marked in some ways by going wide – social media feeds on this – I have decidedly entered a chapter of choosing depth instead. Now, I don’t know if wide and deep are diametric opposites, but I do know that the latter feels more aligned with my soul these days. So I’m going with it.
Ozzie has nearly 40 years on me. As much as M.J. and I joke about being “old,” we know full well we are also still quite young (and at least a little bit dumb, too, at least from the standpoint of our beloved elders).
So yes, my mom is absolutely still my teacher. How could that ever stop? And my kids are also my teachers. I remember feeling that on a cellular level from the time they drew breath into their wee newborn lungs.
Maybe it’s cheesy to say life is my teacher. I mean, “life” is so… big. Vague, broad, impersonal.
This reminds me of a Zoom conversation I had with a friend this week. We were talking about our Jewish lives when I asked about her experience of belonging. She told me a series of stories, each vivid and meaningful, none of which answered my question, yet all of which answered my question. Together, her generous sharing stitched a seam onto something otherwise loose and undefined.
Later, I mentioned to her my tendency to want to hold (spread your arms out as wide as you can) EVERYTHING, and how this is no doubt why I so often attach myself to micro-moments, objects, conversations, images, memories, experiences, and tiny-seeming insights that catch the light, the truth of something otherwise too big to see, like flecks of dust floating in an empty ballroom. This may well be why I love collaging so much.
At that, my friend lit up and said, “I bet you are going to write about this!”
Haha. I hadn’t been thinking I would, but as soon as she said it, the seed had been planted. The moment sat up a little straighter in her seat, a little proud, a little shy.
Who me? You’re going to write about me?
Oh yes, the moment realized. I am a teacher. I am a teachable moment!
Oy, teachable moments. Too often, we link this phrase to something punitive or moralistic. Something that imparts a LESSON. But really, our days are packed with them, just as our lives are teeming with teachers, if only we look – and really see.
So thanks, Mom. Thanks, kids. Thanks, Ozzie. Thanks, Bari. Thanks, collage. Thanks, writers and friends whose words catch the light.
Shabbat Shalom and love,
Jena
Reader praise for Fierce Encouragement
Coming soon: Siddur Lev Shalem for Weekdays
I am deeply honored to have a poem in the new edition of the daily prayerbook of the Conservative/Masorti movement, which will be published later this month.









Jena, dear. What a lovely surprise (and honor) to find my name in your Friday Dispatch. May we continue to learn from one another. Blessings on your head, and Shabbat shalom. And love, of course. Ozzie
Jena! I’m so excited to have found your Dispatch as I enter the wide-wide world of Substack! What you wrote about “detached involvement” brings to mind a big “Aha” moment I had recently in a similar vein. What came to me was: Engagement without Intensity. Aaaaahhhhh…