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The Miracle of Me

Ruchama Cohen

I wasn’t the only girl shaking as we filed into the room to take our tests, but I was sure I was the only one carrying what my teacher called “a bad attitude.”

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Before your negative thoughts begin to churn, let me explain. The principal of my school has worried about my grade for years. We were two classes, both made up of nice girls, but completely different from one another. Over the years, our teachers tried to promote achdus by having us work together on projects and performances, but after trying once or twice they gave up. We were simply incompatible. To us, everything was fine. We each had our own “groups,” and we knew of no law that said that two classes within a grade had to be especially friendly with one another. Like I said, everything was fine.

Apparently, the administration thought otherwise. On the first day of eighth grade, we came into school crazy excited about our year ahead. We lined up with our friends, when, to our utter surprise, we found out from our principal, Mrs. Greenblatt, that our classes had been mixed.

Yes, you heard me correctly. Instead of marching into class together with my friends, we were tossed around like scrambled eggs. And we were expected to be happy about it.


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