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Righting a Wrong

As told to Leah Katz

It’s June now and I think of students worldwide packing up their books, emptying their lockers, and bidding their friends and teachers farewell. With one foot literally out the classroom door, turning around nonchalantly to the teacher to offer a breezy “Thank you for a great year and um, hmm, are you mochel us if we did anything wrong?”

Wednesday, June 05, 2013

notebook and penKnowing what I do now, I wonder how something that is really so completely and utterly serious, is so casually and unthinkingly uttered, almost on second thought. The truth is, the common perception among the species known as “students” is that teachers belong to the realm of superhuman. Superhuman as in, “possesses no feelings.” Teachers have neither a personal life nor an agenda of their own, and are therefore able to absorb any slight or insult that may come their way.

I now know better. And if my story can encourage even one of you to right a wrong you have done, then the retelling of it is worth it.

My class graduated 12th grade on a bright sunny day in June. We looked forward to the future with hopeful, innocent eyes. Seminary, jobs and of course, the word that still caused us to blush furiously yet set off a stream of earnest wishes: shidduchim. Sure enough, several months later, our class celebrated with the first starry-eyed kallah, followed shortly after by the second. We reveled in our new status at the vorts, danced the night away at the weddings several months later and then good-naturedly teased each other as to who would be the next to take the plunge.

Little did we know how long it would be before that plunge would be taken.…

 

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MM217
 
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