My Daughter is My Best Teacher

by Len Felder, PhD

Ten years ago, my book publisher suggested, “You should write about what it’s like to be the parent of a Jewish child who has special needs or a disability.”   Even though I’m a licensed psychologist and the author of several books, I didn’t feel qualified to give other parents advice or to write a “One Size Fits All” approach.   So I replied to the publisher, “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m still learning. Not ready to teach or preach.”

Then three years ago, I was sitting in a room full of moms, dads, aunts, uncles, grandparents, siblings, and aides who are trying to help Jewish children, teens, and young adults to deal with the complexities of daily life.  One of the moms commented, “I used to think I needed to have all the answers. But now I’m finding that if I just calm down, breathe, listen, and ask the right questions, my child who has special needs gives me nonverbal clues on how to be effective, caring, and creative. When I truly listen with an open heart and I don’t jump to assumptions or try to force things on her, my daughter is my best teacher as to what can improve each stressful situation that comes up on a daily basis.”

At that moment, I thought of the Jewish teachings from Pirke Avot (the sayings of our ancestors), as to “Who is the wise person?” The sages wrote that “the wise person is the one who learns from everyone.”  I also thought of the Jewish prayer or meditation phrase we all recite during services, or late at night before bedtime, or at various other times of the day when we close our eyes and get quiet as we whisper, “Sh’ma…listen.  Open up my ears.  Open up my heart. Open up my connection to the ever-flowing source of wisdom and compassion. Sh’ma…listen.”

 Then the next day, I was driving my daughter to a physical therapy appointment and she was upset, agitated and flapping her hands about the loud siren noises and the aggressive drivers we had encountered in the past few minutes. Stuck in traffic, I was tempted to say, “Stop it.  Not now.” But I decided instead to take a calming breath and listen, Sh’ma, with an open heart.

My daughter didn’t have precise words to describe the agitation she was feeling inside her highly-sensitive nervous system.  But the fear in her eyes spoke volumes as she blurted out, “I hate bad drivers.”   

With my left hand on the steering wheel, I gently offered her my right hand and said in a soft voice, “I love you.  We’ll get through this together. Honest truth.”

Then I asked if we could play a game we invented together a few years earlier for stressful drives in the car.  I whispered audibly in a co-conspiratorial voice, “Let’s take nominations on who is the ‘Worst Driver of the Day.’  So far the guy who cut us off just now is definitely in first place. But who knows, we might find someone who is an even worse driver and the first guy will get put into second place. He won’t win.”

 My daughter smiled. She felt heard, she felt included, and she loves the ‘Worst Drive of the Day’ game that we had been playing for several years on many stressful drives.

The next morning, I woke up and realized what the theme of the next book could be.  It would be a collection of creative, engaging approaches and successful options that I had learned from listening to my daughter who has several physical, cognitive, and emotional challenges, but who also has a lot of wisdom to share about what works and what doesn’t work for navigating daily life and challenging situations. The book would also be a collection of creative strategies and flexible possibilities that I had learned from listening to other parents, grandparents, siblings, relatives, aides, teachers, and researchers on how to respect the unique styles of each individual in our life who has special needs or a disability. Rather than trying to write a “One Size Fits All” book, I would begin to compile a “Many Variations, Many Possibilities” book for Jewish families and congregations on how to listen and respond to the needs of those we love who have been feeling marginalized or bossed around.   

New Options for Jewish Joy and Learning 

 Rather than trying to force our loved ones who have sensory issues, focusing issues, and learning differences into the mold of the same old, same old, I have found that there are many families and congregations that do it differently and creatively in order to be more accessible and joyful for those with special needs. Here are a few quick examples that will hopefully stir up your own ideas and creativity for improving things in your own family or congregation:

     --At Sukkot one year, my family was invited to a big event where dozens of families sat politely and listened at length to a lecturer who went on and on about the rules and traditions of this Autumn holiday.  My kid was squirming and agitated after a few minutes and I looked around to see that many in the room (both the neurodiverse and the neurotypicals) were also squirming and unable to hang in there as the speaker went into great detail about the history and practices of the holiday.   

Later that night, I asked my daughter and my wife, “If we were creating our own unique way of doing Sukkot and making it fun and inspiring for everyone attending, what would we include and what would we toss out?” That was the beginning of a series of conversations which led to several years of my daughter, my wife, and I hosting Sukkot gatherings for lots of families who prefer a lively, participatory, and creative way of doing the holiday.   

My daughter fell in love with the preparation steps and she felt powerful being the one who sits in the front seat and tells me, “Look, there!  That’s a good one” when we would drive around the neighborhood to collect branches, tree trimmings and odd-shaped foliage for our homemade sukkah. My wife and my daughter invented a ritual where each person at the Sukkot gathering could pick their favorite colorful fruit cut-outs made from construction paper and to write or draw their personal gratitudes on the construction paper fruit to put up in the sukkah and to let others read what had come to fruition for them in the past year.   

 All of our guests enjoyed their individual, non-rushed chance to smell the citrus etrog and shake the rustic lulav branches in all the directions. They also enjoyed nominating someone from their own life as one of the Ushpizin, the welcomed spirits or energies that we would bring into the sukkah during a group discussion. Each person under the sukkah would briefly say the name and special qualities of the mentor, friend, teacher, relative, or Jewish role model (current or ancient) whose qualities would be added to our gathering as one of the invited Ushpizin guests.   

 We also made sure the pot-luck dinner inside the sukkah came from the creativity and preferences of all the guests.   Suddenly a group of people who barely knew each other had become a tribe that created a beautiful sukkah hut and an enjoyable, inspiring evening where it was okay to take a short break or a walk if needed and there were ground-rules stated at the start of the evening that everyone at the gathering mattered and needed to be heard and included. 

     --On Shabbat, our family and many other families noticed that our kids felt trapped and uncomfortable having to sit in formal adult-oriented services.  So we invented a way of doing services that was participatory with each person in the room having a chance to say or do something important during the service, where it was okay and encouraged to sing out from the heart even if you couldn’t carry a tune on key, and we also had lots of enjoyable visuals and large print in the prayer booklet for those who had reading difficulties.   

I also realized that my daughter had trouble listening to long speeches about the weekly Torah portion, but that she had some wonderful insights and wrestlings whenever we sat on the floor one-on-one and talked about one or two lines from that week’s portion. For example, on the week that the Torah talks about “Do not put an obstacle in the way of a blind person,” I asked my daughter when we were relaxing on the floor together, “What the heck does that mean? Could the two of us role play for a few minutes and imagine what it would be like to be blind, to be trying to walk, and to have some unexpected obstacles in our path?”   

My daughter loves doing role plays and improvising a creative scene, whether it’s with her dolls or with the Torah portion.   But after a minute or two of imagining herself as blind and dealing with obstacles along the way, my daughter blurted out, “Duh.  What a mean thing to do to someone if we put obstacles in someone’s path.  I don’t want to put up obstacles.  I want to remove obstacles.”   That led to a conversation about “what are the obstacles you and your friends have had to face thus far in your lives” and “what can you and I do one day at a time to lessen or remove the obstacles that we see are unfair or cruel in the world.”   

Like many Jews around the world, my daughter was engaged in the study of Torah insights and tradition. But instead of having to sit passively while someone raced through the Torah portion in Hebrew, she was actively making it real and making it applicable to repairing the broken world.   

These and many other creative alternative approaches are available if we make sure to listen, Sh’ma, to our loved ones’ needs and if we share with each other what works on how to make Jewish joy and wisdom accessible and enjoyable for our loved ones. For more ideas, resources, and allies on how to make congregational events, everyday moments, Jewish family holiday gatherings, and sacred wisdom more accessible and inclusive, please have a look at the creative options described in Jewish and Special Needs:   Exploring the Possibilities During Every Decade of Life for Creative Families and Congregations. By discovering what other families and congregations are doing, we can empower our children to help us come up with additional fun and interesting alternatives so that we don’t miss out on the joys and profound teachings of being Jewish.

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Len Felder PhD is the author of 18 books on Jewish spirituality, family conflicts, and personal growth that have sold over 1 million copies.  He is also the parent of a daughter who has many difficulties and has won awards in Canada, England, France, and the United States for her films and videos about being autistic, dyslexic, and LGBTQ+.