From a young age, I knew my son Moshe faced struggles no one fully understood. Despite his intelligence, wit and kind heart, anxiety clung to him like a shadow, and his ADHD made even simple tasks more challenging. Through elementary and middle school, he managed — sometimes barely — with the support of our family, his school and outside help; but behind his smile, we saw the weight he carried every day.

When high school began, we hoped he was in a better place. He had made it through middle school, after all. But as ninth grade progressed, we saw a new level of pain in our son. His school did everything they could to support him. The counselor checked in regularly, administrators made themselves available and his coursework and schedule were adjusted to lighten his load. They even allowed him to arrive late without penalty, understanding that some mornings were just too hard. But despite their efforts and the efforts of his therapist, Moshe was slipping further away. He would spend hours alone in his room, withdrawn, sometimes refusing to eat. And we were powerless to reach him.

Shoshana Moskowitz and her son, Moshe. Courtesy

Then came the conversation no parent ever wants to have. With deep regret, the school told us they could no longer meet Moshe’s needs. We already knew he was struggling — we all were. But when I asked the question I had been dreading — Which Jewish high school can help my son? — the answer was devastating: There isn’t one. 

Our choice was agonizing. Do we push to keep him in a Jewish school where he was drowning, or send him to a secular school that could support him but at the cost of his Jewish education, values and community? And with his anxiety already consuming him, how could we introduce even more upheaval into his life?

I reached out to schools, rabbis and community leaders, desperately searching for an option that didn’t exist. I never imagined I would have to choose between my child’s mental health and his connection to the Jewish community — his very identity. But in the end, his well-being was pikuach nefesh, a matter of life and death. 

And so, with broken hearts, we made the painful decision to take our son out of the Jewish day school system.

I tried so hard to help Moshe maintain his Jewish connection, but every attempt took away from my other children who also needed me. I tried to take him to minyan whenever I could. What should we do over chol hamoed — do we take Moshe out of school? Should we do a special family activity without him? Somehow every decision we made just isolated Moshe (and me) even more. 

After decades, the Jewish community is waking up to families like mine. This awakening is occurring as Jewish youth, just like other youth, are experiencing mental health challenges at higher rates than ever. 

The launch of Adir Academy, the first Jewish therapeutic high school in the U.S. for students with mental health challenges, is a landmark step in the process to fully welcome us into Jewish life. Not only do our families also want Jewish learning and community for our children, but in many ways these experiences are even more vital for us and our children. A supportive, understanding network of other Jewish parents will help us navigate life’s challenges. A full-time Jewish education will enable our children to experience how our teachings and traditions add value, meaning, and support to their lives. So many children need the emotional support of a therapeutic school and the warmth of a Jewish environment. Every child and family struggling with mental health deserves to be seen and to know that they too have a place in the Jewish community.

Shoshana Moskowitz is a mother in New Jersey.