In today's "instant" era of Facebook, Twitter, WhatsApp, Instagram and six-second Vine videos (not to mention Snapchats – which delete themselves almost instantaneously), society has grown addicted to instant gratification, and often eschews endeavors that require tenacity, patience and perseverance.

Today in Israel, the Tel Aviv tech culture actively encourages entrepreneurs to build businesses with the express intent of an "exit" (in Israel, that's the Holy Grail of hi-tech – being bought out by larger firm).

What does all this instant-ness mean for educators? How do we teach in an era of instant-everything? I believe that as educators, we must strive to buck this trend of instant satisfaction. Instead we must relearn and re-emphasize both for ourselves and for our students, the values of patience and resilience.

We are all familiar with the story of Rabbi Akiva, but it bears repeating as it's a story not just about learning and the ability to change, but about patience in education. We read in Avot D'rabbi Natan (Chapter 6): How was the beginning of Rabbi Akiva? They said, he was forty years old, and had never learned a single thing. Once he stood at the mouth of the well. [Seeing the indentation in the stone] he said, who hewed this stone? The said to him, the water that constantly drips on it each day. They said to him, Akiva, do you not know the verse, "The waters wear the stones?" (Job 14:19) Immediately, Rabbi Akiva made a logical deduction about himself: If the soft [water] can hew the hard [rock], then words of Torah which are as hard as iron can certainly hew my heart, which is of flesh and blood. Immediately he returned to study Torah.

We've all quoted that story to demonstrate the power of Torah to effect change, transforming an ignorant, unlettered shepherd into one of the greatest sages in Jewish history. Yet, we sometimes neglect that the story of the well is also story of patience: it takes a great many years for the slow drops of water to create an indentation in the rock. Rabbi Akiva recognized that Torah could transform him, but he understood that it could only do so if he exercised the necessary fortitude to allow that transformation to take place.

Another famous Talmudic story reinforces the notion of educational patience. The Gemara (Eiruvin 54b) discusses the number of times a teacher must review material with his students in order to teach it properly. Utilizing the example of Moshe Rabbeinu teaching the word of God to the Children of Israel (through a very clever method of learning and then re-teaching), Rabbi Eliezer deduces the appropriate number of times a teacher must review the material.

Rabbi Eliezer inferred: It is a man's duty to teach his pupil [his lesson] four times. For this is arrived at a kal v'chomer: Aaron who learned from Moses who had it from God had to learn his lesson four times, how much more so an ordinary pupil who learns from an ordinary teacher!

Rabbi Akiva stated: From where is it deduced that a man must go on teaching his pupil until he has mastered the subject? From Scripture, where it says: And teach you it to the children of Israel…

Rabbi Eliezer and Rabbi Akiva disagree fundamentally over the nature of teaching: Is there, as Rabbi Eliezer argues, an objective number of times a teacher is expected to review that material? Or, do we follow Rabbi Akiva's position, that a teacher must subjectively analyze his student and repeat the material as many times as necessary in order for the student to assimilate the material? Following the presentation of the halachic arguments, the Gemara then relates a fascinating story to bolster the position of Rabbi Akiva.

Rav Pereda had a pupil whom he taught his lesson four hundred times [before the student could master it]. One day, having been requested to attend to a religious matter, he taught [the student as usual] but the pupil could not master the subject. ‘What’, the Master asked: ‘is the matter today?’ — ‘From the moment’, he replied, ‘that the Master was told that there was a religious matter to be attended to I could not concentrate my thoughts, for at every moment I imagined, now the Master will leave, or now the Master will leave’. ‘Give me your attention’, [Rav Pereda [said, ‘and I will teach you again’, and so he taught him another four hundred times. A heavenly voice issued forth asking him, 'Do you prefer that four hundred years shall be added to your life or that you and your generation shall be privileged to have a share in the world to come?’ — He replied: ‘That I and my generation shall be privileged to have a share in the world to come’. The Holy One said to them, ‘Give him both’.

Most of us don't have the patience of Rav Pereda – nor does it seem reasonable to expect a teacher to repeat a lesson four hundred times. But at the very least, Rav Pereda reminds us that as teachers, we cannot expect them to change at the rate of today's fast-paced society. Chinuch, education, isn't a Facebook post or a Vine video – it's a long term process that demands repetition, patience, and a long-term perspective. While we may not see results from hour to hour, day to day, or even week to week, we know that when we look back over a year, or sometimes over a few years and remember where a student began, and how far he or she has come, we realize that while no one remembers the popular YouTube viral video from three years ago, that slow, steady trickle of education has hewn an education, which will shape our students throughout their lives.

From "Eye on Education" published monthly by Orot Israel College of Education, Elkana, the Institute for Contemporary Chinuch with Emunah