My name is Ilana Sussman, and I live in Plainview-Old Bethpage, Long Island, where I have spent the past 27 years teaching elementary school in the Half Hollow Hills Central School District. As an educator, I have always looked for ways to bring Jewish community, Israel, and service into the classroom and beyond. My local synagogue, Jewish Community Center, and my family’s three-generation connection to Jewish summer camp have been central to that work.
After Oct. 7, I began using Instagram as a global classroom, bringing the same educational and visual storytelling skills I use with my students to a broader audience. I share positive, educational content about Israel and Jewish life, and create opportunities for thoughtful dialogue.
I first heard about Yad Sarah decades ago from my father, who was a professor of Special Education. He spent his career helping individuals access the equipment and support they needed to live comfortably and independently. In 2000, he and I staffed a March of the Living trip, and he chose to volunteer at Yad Sarah alongside a group of children with hearing disabilities. More than 25 years later, he still brings up that experience. His lasting admiration told me, long before I visited, that Yad Sarah is the kind of organization people do not forget.
In July 2026, I was on a Birthright volunteer trip through Israel Outdoors, and I finally had the opportunity to see Yad Sarah in action. My Birthright group and I spent the day at Yad Sarah's Ra'anana branch in the Equipment Lending Center. The group spent the day counting and labeling cribs, sorting crutches and canes, and organizing boxes of medical supplies. Each time we finished a section, another Yad Sarah volunteer arrived to move the equipment to where it needed to go. Nothing sat still for long. The speed and coordination showed us that every item was part of a much larger system of care.
I was inspired by compassionate volunteers like Avi, who, at 79 years old, shared that his involvement with Yad Sarah invigorates him with energy and purpose every day. His contagious smile proved that the organization he dedicates his time to gives back to him in dividends. Seeing volunteers like Avi devote their time and energy so consistently helped me understand how Yad Sarah is able to support so many families.
Beyond the lending center, I visited Yad Sarah’s Day Rehabilitation Center, where clients were attending classes and painting. My cousin Gesi noticed that one woman in a wheelchair, “C,” was painting mosaic artwork while listening to music from her phone. The two women connected instantly and danced together. Then, "C” began to beautifully sing Gesi’s name back to her. In that moment, I felt so joyful as I watched Gesi admire "C’s” spirit from across the room. The painting became a point of connection, and the scene captured something essential about Yad Sarah – rehabilitation and human connection were happening side by side.
What impressed me most was the breadth of care Yad Sarah brings together. In the United States, families often turn to separate organizations for medical equipment, rehabilitation, and emotional support. At Yad Sarah’s branch in Ra’anana, I saw all of those services in one building, led by volunteers who knew exactly what was needed and when to support. For anyone considering volunteering with Yad Sarah, I would tell them that organizing the equipment matters because each crib, cane, or pair of crutches will eventually be used by someone in need. What stays with you, though, is the people: the volunteer who returns day after day, the client who finds a new way to express herself, and the unexpected connection formed across a room.
As a teacher, I am always thinking about the stories and lessons I can bring back to others. I arrived at Yad Sarah knowing the organization only from my father’s memories. I left with my own story to share with my students, my online community, and future generations of campers visiting Israel.
