The announcement that Bnos Penina will no longer be able to continue operating should not be treated as just another unfortunate story. It should be understood for what it really is: a warning.

A school does not close in the middle of the year on a whim. Administrators do not send children home because of a temporary setback or a minor shortfall. That kind of decision comes only after months or years of scrambling, cutting, pleading, negotiating, and hoping that something will turn around. It comes after every possible avenue has been explored and every option has been exhausted. When a school reaches that point, it is not because leadership gave up. It is because there was nothing left to hold on to.

The letter from the school made it painfully clear that tuition commitments were not met. Promised support did not materialize, operating costs rose, and the landlord withdrew the building. And despite sustained efforts to secure funding, the numbers simply did not work. That reality cuts directly against a narrative that has circulated in some circles for years — that school administrators are somehow living comfortably at the expense of parents, that they are inefficient, wasteful, or motivated by personal gain.

If that were true, this school would not be closing. No administrator who is “rolling in dough” shuts down in February. Do we really believe that people who have poured their hearts into building a school would choose to dismantle it if the problem were simply their personal spending habits and lifestyles? Of course not. This closure exposes how far removed that stereotype is from reality.

This brings us to a difficult but necessary conversation about tuition. Too often, tuition is treated as something flexible, negotiable, or optional. It becomes a bill that can be delayed, reduced, or ignored when things get tight. Families may feel overwhelmed, and that is understandable, but when tuition is not paid, the school does not simply absorb the loss. It accumulates month after month – until the system breaks completely.

Our community is generous, sometimes extraordinarily so. We support an endless stream of campaigns on behalf of countless worthy causes. But this story forces us to ask whether we are giving in the right order. Too often, we fund what is exciting, visible, or emotionally satisfying, while the institutions that educate our children are barely staying afloat.

Chinuch cannot be just another line item on the list of causes. It is the list.

Before we donate to projects that make us feel good, before we fund prestige initiatives, and certainly before we spend freely on luxuries, vacations, or the latest trends, we have to ask whether our schools are financially secure. If our children’s classrooms are operating on financial fumes, then something is deeply wrong with our priorities.

This is not about shaming families who are struggling. Many are. The cost of living is real, and tuition is heavy. It is about collective responsibility. If parents cannot carry the full burden, the community must help carry it. If donors are giving generously elsewhere, they must first ensure that chinuch is protected.

Bnos Penina’s situation is not an isolated failure. It is a symptom. It reflects a broader problem of misplaced priorities and delayed responsibility.

If we truly believe that chinuch is our future, then that belief has to be reflected in how we spend, how we give, and how seriously we take our obligations.

Signed,
A Lakewood Resident

The views expressed in this letter are those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of Lakewood Alerts. Have an opinion you would like to share? Send it to us for review.