Why a Principal Drove Miles to School on Erev Shavuos

From the COLlive Inbox: Gittele Fridman of Toronto, Canada tells why the principal of Bais Chaya Mushka of Toronto drove to school on Erev Shavuos while school was closed, and the ripple effects of his actions.

By Gittele Fridman – Toronto, Canada

Just before Shavuos, something happened that touched my heart deeply.

I have a brother, Zalmen, who lives in Montreal with his beautiful family. I try my best to be the “favorite aunt,” and whenever I can, I make the trip to visit my adorable nieces and nephews.
On one visit before Purim, my six-year-old niece, Sterna, proudly told me that she collects stickers. With a smile, I promised her, “Next time I come, I’ll bring you some special stickers.”
We looked at the calendar together and counted down the weeks until my next visit — Sunday, Isru Chag. From that moment on, the children were excitedly waiting.

The Wednesday before Shavuos was the last day of school at Bais Chaya Mushka of Toronto, where I work. Wanting to keep my promise, I carefully went through my second-grade classroom and chose the very best stickers for Sterna. I placed them beside my car keys in my desk so I would not forget them when the school day ended.

But when I arrived home later that afternoon, my heart sank.

The stickers were still sitting in my classroom.

Most people would think, “It’s only stickers.” But to me, it felt like so much more.

I could already picture my nieces and nephews waiting by the large front window, peeking down the street for my car. Every single time I visit, they practically burst with excitement. They make colorful welcome signs, run to the window cheering and jumping when I arrive, and lovingly insist on giving up their own beds for my family to sleep in. Their joy is pure and overflowing.
And all I could think about was little Sterna’s face when I would have to tell her that I forgot the stickers I had promised.

That night, I could not stop thinking about it. My heart genuinely ached.

The next morning was Erev Shavuos. BCM was closed, and everyone was busy preparing for Yom Tov. Still hoping for a miracle, I decided to send a message to the principal, Rabbi Yaacov Vidal, asking if by any chance someone might be at the school or have access to the building. I explained that I was traveling to Montreal and had accidentally left behind the stickers I promised my niece.
Now, anyone who knows BCM knows it is not “just around the corner.” It is a drive away. It was also a busy Thursday morning before Yom Tov. And what had I forgotten? Not medicine. Not important documents. Just stickers.

But Rabbi Vidal did something I will never forget.

In the middle of all the Erev Yom Tov preparations, he stopped what he was doing, drove all the way to the school, went into my classroom, retrieved the stickers, and made sure I got them.
It may have been “just stickers,” but Rabbi Vidal understood what it meant to a six year old little girl.

And somewhere in Montreal, one little girl’s face lit up with happiness because someone cared enough to help an aunt keep her promise.

But the story does not end there.

Every Thursday morning, I learn Torah on Zoom with a very dear friend of mine. Life took her on a different path, and she married a non-Jewish man. Together they are raising three boys. Yet despite everything, I always try to share with her the beauty, warmth, and preciousness of Yiddishkeit whenever I can.

As Shavuos was approaching, I kept thinking about the Rebbe’s heartfelt plea — his בקשה נפשית — that every Jewish child should come to shul to hear the Aseres Hadibros. So during our Thursday learning sessions leading up to Shavuos, I would tell her that when Hashem gave the Torah, it was specifically the children who became the guarantors of Torah, promising that it would continue forever and how meaningful it would be for her boys to hear the Aseres Hadibros. But my friend would just keep the saying that

Shavuos falls on a Friday. It’s a workday. The boys have school. We can’t make it happen.

I understood. But still, deep inside, I hoped.

Then came Erev Shavuos — the same Thursday morning of the sticker story. While I was in the middle of learning with my friend on Zoom, Rabbi Vidal video called me from BCM because he could not find the stickers exactly where I had described. I felt terrible that he had made the drive all the way to school on Erev Yom Tov for something so small, and now I was making him search for them too.

I apologized to him. But Rabbi Vidal simply answered with sincerity and kindness, “I understand. This is meaningful to a child.”

My friend was listening to the entire exchange. She heard the care in his voice. She watched a principal, on one of the busiest days of the year, taking time and effort for stickers — simply because it mattered to a little Jewish girl.

And suddenly, something clicked for her.

Not because of a speech.
Not because someone pressured her.
But because she witnessed Torah being lived.

She saw what a Jewish school means.
She saw what a Jewish principal looks like.
She saw what Ahavas Yisroel feels like.

And most importantly, she saw that Torah is not just something we learn — it is something we live with our whole heart.

The very next day, on Shavuos morning, her boys walked into shul wearing kippahs. They stood quietly and listened to the Aseres Hadibros.

The lesson of this story reaches far beyond stickers.
It touches the very heart and soul of what Chinuch truly means — what genuine Ahavas Yisroel looks like, even toward a Yid we may have never met.
So many of us as parents spend our days wondering and worrying: Are our children learning enough? Growing enough? Becoming the kind of Yidden we dream they can be?
But perhaps this story reminds us of something just as important — to pause for a moment and recognize the incredible gift we already have – a true role model – and to say a heartfelt thank you.
Rabbi Vidal could easily have said, “It’s only stickers.” He could have explained that it was Erev Yom Tov, that the school was closed, that he was busy, and that the drive was far. Anyone would have understood.

But when a principal lives with dedication, compassion, and true authentic Torah life and mesiras nefesh for another Yid, those values do not remain personal acts. They fill the hallways of the school. They become the atmosphere our children breathe every single day.

What a tremendous source of pride for every BCM parent to know what exists within the walls of BCM — that our children are in the hands of a principal who embodies the values of the Rebbe so deeply; someone who understands that every child is precious, every feeling matters, Torah is not just taught but lived.

And for that Toronto can be proud – there is so much to say:
Thank you for a school The Rebbe can truly be proud of!

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