Rabbi Levin's Safety Net: Inside the School That Says Yes When Everyone Else Says No

The mother—let's call her what she is, a single mother with a brilliant, energetic ten-year-old named Shlomo (not his real name) whose mind moves faster than most can follow — and she's standing there in the parking lot of any of the THIRTY-PLUS! Jewish day schools that pepper the Pico-Robertson-Beverly Hills-Valley-Brentwood-La Brea axis of Los Angeles that are each facing extreme challenges to meet enrollment demands, and she's just been told— No. Not "We'll get back to you." Not "We'll put you on the waiting list." Just... No. The admissions director doesn't even try to soften it. She knows she can’t give this mother any false hope. The school has 400 applications for 50 spots. And a child with ADHD that needs a lot of remedial attention will consume a lot of resources. And there's no father in the picture writing tuition checks... Welcome to Jewish education in Los Angeles, 2025 edition, where the Chosen People have to make tough choices about which of G-d's children deserve to learn about their covenant with the Almighty!

The Underground Railroad of Jewish Education

Here's the dirty secret of Jewish Los Angeles: There's an entire underground network of Jewish children seeking schools that understand them. They're in public schools, homeschool programs, and online academies run out of basements. Their parents whisper about it at Ralphs, comparing notes in the kosher aisle— "Did you try Pressman?" "Waitlisted." "Milken?" "They said they're 'at capacity for children with his profile.'" "What about that place in the Valley?" "Folded last year. No funding." No funding!

Meet the Rabbi and Principal Actually Doing Something About It

But wait—down in an alley behind Pico Boulevard, wedged between a Persian rug dealer and lower east side style deli (only in LA!), something extraordinary is happening in the former movie house that is now Congregation B'nai David. In eight classrooms that also serve as Bar Mitzvah lessons and secret kiddush clubs, a collection of educational pioneers has assembled. The brave ones! The independent thinkers! The students whose gifts don't fit conventional molds! This is Chabad Gaon Academy, where Rabbi Moshe Levin (the same Rabbi Levin that runs Chabad Pico - Bais Bezalel) has created what one principal called, in a moment of unexpected poetry, "the safety net for kids the community has failed to catch." And here's where it gets interesting—Rabbi Levin isn't doing this alone. He's got a secret weapon: Mrs. Rivkah Roth, the principal who sees what big schools can't. When thirty students blur together in a large classroom, she notices the needs of each child. She spots the student that needs specialized attention and creates an individualized curriculum to fit his unique drive to learn. She notices that child whose eyes light up when a lesson veers into art, or who doodles equations in the margins when the class moves too slowly. "She doesn't miss anything," says one parent. "My son was invisible everywhere else. Here, Mrs. Roth saw him before he even knew how to see himself."

Monday Morning, 8:15 AM The aroma hits you first— yes the classroom Folger’s instant coffee but with the faint yet unmistakable scent of adolescent potential and the eternal hope of new beginnings. Here comes Eitan (not his real name), fifteen, wearing a hoodie pulled so far over his head he looks like a Sith Lord at a bar mitzvah. Six months ago, he was asked to leave another of the area Jewish schools for not being up to their learning standards. But watch what happens here—this same kid who was "disruptive" and "unfocused" at his previous school? Last week he led a d'var Torah at the school assembly. Led it! The kid who couldn't sit still for five minutes delivered a fifteen-minute interpretation of that week's parsha that had even the teachers taking notes. Behind him, Yaakov (also not his real name) arrives—Tourette's syndrome crackling through his nervous system like a broken Tesla coil. His family income: $32,000 a year. Annual tuition at any LA Jewish school: $35,000 minimum, according to last year's exposé in this very publication. Do the math! Or rather, don't—it's too depressing. But here's what you don't see in those numbers: Yaakov, who thought he was done with Jewish education forever, now has his chumash open every morning. Every morning! The kid who was told he didn't belong anywhere is now tutoring younger students in Hebrew. And here's Rabbi Levin himself, wearing what can only be described as the sartorial equivalent of a shrug—the eternal black-and-white uniform of the Lubavitcher on a mission—running a school that according to their website charges "40% below typical market rates." FORTY PERCENT! Why? Because "Every child," he says "is exceptional." EXCEPTIONAL! Exceptional creative thinkers. Exceptional at seeing patterns others miss. Exceptional at having minds that work in dimensions the Educational Testing Service hasn't figured out how to monetize yet. Mrs. Roth turns what other schools call "disruption" into creativity, what they call "defiance" into independence, what they call "problems" into potential. She's not lowering the bar. She's changing the angle, so kids who stumble over it in other schools can finally leap.

Not a Critique, But a Complement

Here's the thing nobody wants to say out loud: Levin and Roth aren't out to criticize the system. The other schools are doing their jobs. They serve the majority, and they do it well. Those sleek campuses, high test scores, rigorous curricula—they've earned their reputations by setting standards and holding to them. And they're not wrong for doing so. Schools have to protect their mission, and they can't be everything to everyone. But no single model can serve every child. That's why Chabad Gaon Academy exists. Not to compete. To complete the picture. Because when every other door has been shut, this one still opens.

The Article Nobody Read (Except One Rabbi)

And boy is this necessary. A year ago this very publication ran an investigation called "The True Cost of Jewish Education." We did the research and the math. We crunched the numbers. And we discovered that if every Orthodox synagogue in Los Angeles donated just 10% of their High Holiday fundraising to a communal education fund, virtually no Jewish family would be priced out of Jewish education. TEN PERCENT! The article quoted the Lubavitcher Rebbe himself: "No child should be turned away. Because of money.. Torah study is a matter of life for a Jewish boy or girl." And yet… Well, you know who read that article? Apparently, one person: Rabbi Moshe Levin. While the rest of the community continued their annual High Holiday pledge drives—"We need $3 million for our new social hall!" "We need $5 million for our parking structure!"—Rabbi Levin was out there actually doing something. Taking kids. ALL kids. The ones without money. The ones whose learning styles don't fit into neat little boxes.

The Miracle on Pico

What happens in those eight classrooms is not glamorous. There are no $50,000 galas. No "STEM wing" ribbon-cuttings. No catered organic lunches. What there is: children who thought they were done with Jewish education, sitting with open chumashim again. Students who thought "no" was the final word, discovering that "yes" can still be said. A boy who once whispered, "I don't belong anywhere," now leading mincha for the whole school. And now? The artist who was labeled "distracted" creates visual interpretations of Talmudic concepts that make even scholars pause. The kid with the "behavioral issues" becomes the most patient tutor for struggling younger students. The boy who "couldn't focus" memorizes entire chapters of Tanach because finally, someone taught it in a way his mind could grasp. Last year's investigation revealed that the Jewish Federation allocates a "dismally low percentage" to Jewish education—Rabbi Stulberger's words, not mine. Valley Torah lost their Federation funding because they refused to comply with invasive financial auditing requirements that, as Stulberger pointed out, penalized families with unreported income while letting wealthy families game the system. The investigation found that schools are so desperate they're resorting to questionable practices—one school was caught manipulating test scores to qualify for government tutoring funds.

What Nobody Wants to Admit

"Without fundraising, tuition would not cover the expense of any school," Rabbi Sufrin admitted in last year's exposé. The rough math? Schools need to fundraise 15-40% of their budgets just to keep the lights on. But here's what that investigation also revealed: If every Orthodox synagogue gave just 10% of their High Holiday fundraising—JUST TEN PERCENT!—the crisis would be over. Instead, as one wealthy parent warned in that article: "If something isn't done soon, more and more families will leave Los Angeles. Wealthier families will be able to stay. But that will create a very different type of community. Not one that I want to be part of." Well, Rabbi Levin understands that and he has opened his doors wider. And not just the door to exceptional students either.

The Library That Actually Exists Somehow

Rabbi Levin has also managed opened the Jewish Family Library—right there next to his school in Bais Bezalel. Started with 2,000 books in March 2021. Now they claim... well, they claim a lot of things about checked-out books that seem mathematically improbable given they've only been open three years, but the point is: IT EXISTS! With professional librarians with actual degrees! Free lending! Kids can check out TEN BOOKS AT A TIME! The point is…this is what happens when someone thinks: Maybe I should do something about this AND doesn’t wait for the money AND just starts building a channel for the blessings. Because boy do we need blessings in our children's access to Jewish education.

The Moment of Truth

 "Every five years is a new generation now," Rabbi Levin says, "The challenges are getting stronger." The challenges! He means TikTok and cyberbullying and the general confusion of being a teenager - a Jewish teenager - in 2025 that might make life feel like navigating a minefield blindfolded on a pogo stick. And these kids are going to do it with community. With their heritage. By learning that they're part of something bigger than the latest social media controversy. Because in those eight classrooms on Pico Boulevard, something real is happening. Kids who were told they don't fit the mold are discovering that they fit here. Kids who were told their way of learning doesn't count are discovering that every learning style counts. Kids who needed a safety net are discovering there was, in fact, someone ready to catch them. It just took someone who actually cared about them to build it. The question remains: Will the rest of the community follow Rabbi Levin's example? Or will next year's investigation find the same crisis, the same problems, the same excuses—with only one safety net for all the children who need catching? Chabad Gaon Academy doesn't have a gym. It doesn't have a donor wall. It doesn't even have its own building. But it has students who never thought they'd be welcome in a Jewish classroom again, now opening Gemaras with confidence. It has Mrs. Roth, who sees brilliance where others saw problems. It has Rabbi Levin, who believes that "We don't ask you to prove you belong. We ask what your child needs." That is its own kind of miracle. And it doesn't pay for itself. The school survives on grit, Divine intervention, and the occasional unexpected check from a donor who wandered in for mincha. "Most of these kids' families aren't paying full tuition," Rabbi Levin admits. "They can't. Some are recent baalei teshuva. Some are single moms working two jobs. Some just left public school because their child was bullied for being Jewish and had nowhere else to go."

THE JEWISH OBLIGATION NO ONE TALKS ABOUT

Every single child seeking Jewish education should have a seat in a Jewish classroom. The bigger schools are already doing their part. They're serving the children who meet their criteria, and they do it with excellence. But who serves the ones who don't make the cut? Right now, the answer is Rabbi Levin. The answer is Mrs. Roth. The answer is Chabad Gaon Academy. So what can you do? Well… a year ago, this newspaper laid out the solution. Ten percent from each synagogue. A communal fund. No child turned away. Here’s a rabbi that acted on the call and we should support his valuable work. In "The True Cost of Jewish Education," we asked: Whose fault is this? The answer came loud and clear: It’s all of ours. But now we ask something else: Whose responsibility is it to fix it? Rabbi Levin has been listening to the cries of families searching for understanding, acceptance, and Jewish education. Rabbi Levin has been seeing potential where others saw problems. And he’s been doing it grass roots style. No gala. No massive endowment. No Federation grant. Just grit, rented space, Divine help and the belief that no Jewish child should be turned away. The question remains: Will the rest of the community stand with his school? Or will next year's investigation find the same crisis, the same problems, the same excuses—without this only one safety net for all the children who need one?

So Here's What We're Asking

This Tishrei, when you fill out your synagogue's donation card, ask yourself: Do we really need another mahogany aron kodesh? Or do we need to lift up a Jewish child who's been told they don't belong? We are calling on our readers to once again choose schools over shuls, and if you have to choose, consider giving to the one ACTUALLY DOING THE MOST to guarantee that EVERY JEWISH CHILD HAS ACCESS TO A JEWISH EDUCATION. Rabbi Levin hopes to raise 450k. We have a bigger goal. We want him to raise a million.

Let This Be the Year We Stop Looking Away

To donate to Chabad Gaon Academy or learn more about their work, visit https://www.chabadpico.com/