Israelis have an expression: “b’rosh gadol.” Literally, “with a big head.” It’s what you say about someone who makes a choice with the long-term outcome in mind, rather than just the immediate pressure in front of them. The opposite, “rosh katan,” “small head,” refers to someone who only sees the situation at hand.
A simple example: A grocery store is messy. Hiring a janitor costs money. A “rosh katan” manager says no to the cut in profits. A “rosh gadol” manager realizes that a clean store keeps customers coming back, and he spends the money.
A friend of mine shared a “rosh gadol” parenting story that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.
About fifty years ago, in South Africa, a Jewish boy was enrolled in his local public school. Antisemitism wasn’t unheard of in the area, but overall, things were manageable for this family. Then one day, a teacher made a clearly antisemitic remark. The boy didn’t know how to react. He went home and told his parents what happened.
Before I tell you how they responded, think about what we might do today. Call the school board? Post about it? Find (or create) a new school? At the very least, we’d march in there and make sure the teacher heard about it. Because that’s what protecting your child looks like, right?
These parents looked at their son and said, calmly: “You have to understand something important: an education is a privilege. We’ll think through what to do here, but we can’t take your schooling for granted. We have to find a way to make this work.”
They had every reason to give in to the immediate emotion. The outrage. The fear. The righteous demand for justice. Nobody would have blamed them. But in their assessment, reacting from that place would have taught their son a very damaging value. Their child would have learned, in a deep way, that school isn’t really that important, and that it can be walked away from the moment things get uncomfortable.
So they held it together. And in doing so, they gave him something far more valuable than a dramatic gesture of solidarity.
No two situations are alike. I’m not saying ignore injustice, or that these parents had the only valid response. But if we can train ourselves to use “rosh gadol” thinking, to pause for a moment and look for the bigger picture, we’re much more likely to be proud of ourselves, and to raise children who will be too.
This article was found in Nekuda Tova Issue 75.
