Director, Disabled, and Full-Time Mother: "Teaching My Students Not to Give Up"

If you had met Esther Kramer about eight years ago, you'd have seen an ordinary woman in her 30s, a mother of six, dividing her time between teaching, managing her store, and taking care of her home. "I was busy 24 hours a day," she recalls.

Then everything changed one day as she was leaving her store, suddenly experiencing blurred vision. "I thought I had an eye problem and went to the clinic," Esther explains. "They sent me to the ER, yet I still believed my eye was the issue. In the ER, I was diagnosed with a stroke caused by a blood clot that reached my brain, blocking my optic nerve. I was hospitalized and released after a few days."

That was just the beginning. A week later, Esther found she couldn't move her arm and leg. "I rushed back to the ER," she recounts, "and they diagnosed that the clot also blocked oxygen to the motor area—my arm and leg. I immediately started physical therapy and underwent more medical procedures, which somewhat restored my condition. I still had weakness in my leg and struggled with long distances, but life continued normally. I taught, ran my store, trained as a life coach, and began advocating for people with disabilities, even though I wasn't disabled myself at that time."

"Students Learn from Me Not to Give Up"

Several years passed, and approximately five years ago, it happened again. "I woke up one morning," Esther says, "and suddenly discovered I couldn't move my arm."

With your medical history, you must have been very anxious

"Not really, I'm more practical than anxious. Whenever I experienced such episodes, which have occurred several times recently, I focused on what to do next and took action as needed—calling whoever necessary and doing whatever was required."

This time, the diagnosis was slightly different—the clot was in the neck, preventing oxygen from reaching the brain. "I underwent several catheterizations and took blood thinners to prevent future clots. Eventually, I was transferred to 'home hospitalization,' receiving physiotherapy and occupational therapy from caregivers at home. The rehabilitation wasn't short, and during it, I experienced another stroke."

Esther emphasizes that during that time, she didn't work outside but continued managing her household and caring for her seven children. "My youngest was only five, and it wasn’t easy. Until that day, I was energetic and managed to do everything—work, clean, cook. Suddenly, I had to learn to rest and adjust to a slower pace."

Strokes are mainly associated with older adults. Your case must be very rare.

"Not really," she responds, "I was only 34 during my first hospitalization, with a woman aged 24 in the room who had a similar stroke. Strokes mainly affect older people but do occur in young people, especially known to occur in women post-childbirth."

Esther continues her story: "The home hospitalization eventually ended when the clinic’s budget ran out. They told me I had to continue physical therapy through the clinic, which was hard for me to access and inefficient, as the clinic only allowed 12 sessions a year, which wasn’t enough. I found myself stuck at home, struggling to move from house to car, working remotely as much as I could, but unable to function daily outside. Also, my driver's license was revoked because driving is forbidden after a stroke until the required tests are passed to prove fitness to drive. It meant that even going out was a major ordeal—I would use a walker to reach the bus stop but often couldn't board the bus because of the step. I soon realized it was impossible and had to rely on taxis or my husband."

"One day I talked with a close friend, venting my frustration. She immediately said, 'I'll try to help you,' and she did, finding charity organizations that funded a mobility scooter for me, enabling me to move around. It completely changed my life. Suddenly I could leave the house, travel by scooter, and even enter the train, reaching almost anywhere. I finally returned to activity, though not full-time teaching, as schools weren’t accessible, hindering my ability to work there. I focused on personal coaching, mainly supporting families with special needs children, an area that felt close to my heart."

Meanwhile, she regained her driving license, now using the scooter close to home and a car for longer distances. "Last summer, I was offered to fill in for a school principal on sabbatical, which I am currently doing, managing a religious state school in Bat Ayin, Gush Etzion. I am considered the highest-ranked disabled educator in the Israeli educational system. I know this field well and can affirm that regrettably, in the Haredi education system, there are no disabled staff members, and in the general education system, there are a few, but not many. It’s rare and challenging to hold a management position."

Why is it so complex?

"Because schools are required by law to make buildings accessible for parents or students with disabilities. Another law mandates certain accessibility for workers, but it’s not clear enough, and schools often prefer not hiring these workers rather than bothering to make the school accessible for them."

It sounds like you’re saying this out of acceptance...

Esther sighs. "It might sound like that, but I’m completely speaking from a place of non-acceptance. I still dream of managing a Haredi school, and if one exists, I am entirely available. I personally believe that having a teacher or any other staff member with disabilities interacting with students impacts them more than anything else."

She pauses before recalling excitedly: "During this school year, I experienced another stroke and was hospitalized for a week. During those days, many students sent me letters. One child's letter deeply touched me; she wrote, 'To the principal, who taught us not to judge a person from the outside, but by their inside.'

"I never explicitly taught my students this," Esther insists, "but they learn it themselves by seeing me and understanding my struggles—it teaches them much about life. I also notice students feel uncomfortable making excuses like 'I have no energy to study' because seeing me active and busy inspires them to do the same. In a certain way, this attitude of action permeates the staff as well. Naturally, anyone seeing a person with disabilities strive and work hard understands they must do the same."

You often talk about coping; where is it mainly expressed?

"At school, the challenges are mainly technical. There are classes I can't enter, which is a bit hard because the students have to come down to me. Staff also knows system meetings usually occur in my room instead of others, as it’s hard for me to leave—it's easier if everyone comes to me. But as I mentioned, there are not just disadvantages but also benefits, as a disabled staff member can notably influence children. It’s not just about realizing one needs to strive and try hard, but clearly, as a socially active person trying hard and working, I have a perspective that benefits children. The students also see me asking for help—whether to open a gate or obtain other things. It teaches them it's okay to ask for help and not be ashamed."

Do parents feel their children benefit from this?

"At the year's start, parents were a bit shocked," she admits. "I think it was hard for them to adjust to a disabled principal. But now, I feel they appreciate me, and many have said they hope I stay at the school. They see it as added value."

Optimism Prevails

But the challenges aren't only at school. "Though it’s been five years since the significant stroke, I still haven't fully adjusted," she admits, "struggling because I can’t act, clean, or organize as I'd like. I do cook and try to do any kitchen work I can from a chair, but most household chores are done by my older daughters and husband. It’s not easy, but I've taught myself to rejoice in what I have. So I made two fewer casseroles for Shabbat? Who cares, as long as we usher in Shabbat with joy and calm—that matters most."

But there are things harder to accept. "I live on the sixth floor, and about every two months, the elevator breaks down, leaving me trapped in the car or home until the technician repairs it. In situations where I have no choice, like rushing to work, I resort to sitting on the stairs and 'sliding' down them. These days, I barely move around, not even with a walker, as it’s hard for me. Even at home, I have to hold onto walls or use a chair."

Despite everything, you sound active and cheerful. What helps you?

"My secret is foremost optimism," Esther reveals, "and understanding that none of us can plan tomorrow, just appreciate today. This was a lesson I began feeling after my first stroke but has only gotten stronger. I think after COVID, many can relate. Why plan so far ahead? If I'm content and satisfied with life today, I should just be thankful and happy. I have many reasons to feel good, so why focus only on what’s missing?

"That’s not to say there are no hard times," she quickly adds. "If I break an egg while cooking, it'll frustrate me, it's harder to clean, and other complex struggles arise. At such times, I allow myself to cry and get upset, to 'break down,' like anyone else, but afterward, I remind myself: 'Yes, you can't do some things, but there are things you can,' and I list them, which gives me immense strength to continue."

For the Special Population

In addition to her role as principal, Esther is part of the organization 'Coalition of Parents of Children with Special Needs.' "Initially set up for parents of special children, it soon expanded and now deals with all disabilities at all ages, as disabled people need a lot of assistance with bureaucracy and daily functioning. Considerable advocacy and pressure are needed."

What do you do in your role within the organization?

"I try to attend Knesset sessions and speak in committees addressing the disabled public. I persuade Knesset members and decision-makers of the need to change laws and grant rights to the disabled. I also explain about the religious public, which has unique needs—for example, an urgent need for an accessible mikveh for family purity suitable for disabled women. Though a law requires this, not all cities comply. The religious community also needs accessible synagogues and halls, and our schools don’t always meet all needs. Statistically, there are more special needs children in the religious community, fully linked to large families and the avoidance of abortions, directly raising the need."

Do you feel your efforts help?

"Absolutely. I think there's much more listening now, even if it doesn't always lead to change, but we work hard and believe that diligence will, with Hashem's help, lead to results. Many Knesset members help us, and we hope to continue receiving assistance."

Esther stresses that the need to cater to special children involves more than physical access like ramps but also adjusting for communicative or intellectual disabilities. "That's even harder, but we’re working on it," she clarifies.

What are your ambitions and vision?

"I aim to see every child or adult find their place in society, regardless of their needs or abilities. I’m doing everything to make this dream feasible, and with Hashem's help, I completely believe it will happen."