Our Gemara makes a profound and surprisingly psychological statement:

“A person can learn Torah only from a place in the Torah that his heart desires…

A person should always learn Torah from a place in the Torah that his heart desires.”

The Maharsha notes that one statement says “from a place” while the other says “in a place.” This seemingly minor change indicates that the Gemara refers to two things: the content of the Torah one is learning and the context—which could mean the teacher, the environment, or the yeshiva.

Why is it so important that Torah be studied in a way that speaks to the heart?

Rashi offers a subtle explanation: If a person studies something other than what he desires, he won’t remember it well, because his heart is elsewhere. Rashi is not simply saying that passion aids learning—he’s saying that inner distraction, when curiosity is suppressed, inhibits retention even in committed students.

This suggests a deep insight: Rashi did not believe the Gemara was addressing the conundrum of immature non-motivated students. Even for the disciplined, learned person, curiosity is a powerful cognitive and spiritual force. When suppressed, it interferes with comprehension. When honored, it becomes a source of clarity and connection. 

Though applicable to methods and interests of advanced students and sages, we can now apply it to the education of children. If a teacher sees that his students are distracted by something external or unrelated, it is wiser to lean into that interest—tie it into the lesson—rather than try to ignore or repress it.

Rav Kook in Shemoneh Kevatzim (8:24) states:

A person should not make their soul false, nor should they deceive their inner feelings due to the stormy impulse of conforming to the majority. If they feel elevation and the sanctity of reason in a particular discipline, they should strive to always satisfy themselves with the delight of sublime pleasures, from the place their heart desires. 

I remember a story about my father, Rabbi Chaim Feuerman, Ed.D. Z”L, a master mechanech for over sixty years. He was about to begin a model lesson for trainee teachers when he noticed it had just begun to snow. The flakes drifted past the window, capturing the children’s attention. Instead of pushing forward with the lesson, he said:

“It’s snowing outside. Let’s all go to the window and enjoy the snow for five minutes. Then we’ll come back and start the Mishnah.”

My father was less interested in looking professional and more interested in reaching the students.