And then, suddenly, Mama was shaking me awake and sunlight was streaming through the window next to my bed.

“Elka,” she whispered, “it’s time to get up. Quickly get dressed, and Papa will show you how to get to school.”

My eyes popped open. School. Now. Today. I quickly slid off my bed while Mama moved on to wake Miriam. Shivering, I pulled my dress down from the hook and quietly got dressed.

The soft blue material fell to my knees, and I quickly buttoned the two buttons below the collar.

“Mama?” I called, quietly, emerging from my room into the kitchen, “can you help me tie the bow?”

Mama turned away from the stove, where she was boiling water to give us each a warm drink before school.

“Elka,” she greeted me, smiling broadly, “how nice you look. Come, I’ll tie your bow, and then you can go into the bathroom and wash your hands. Papa will be home soon to show you where the school is.”

I stood perfectly still while Mama tied my bow. Then I went into the bathroom and filled the cup with water. Carefully, I washed my hands and face just the way Mama likes me to.

“Miriam,” I said, turning to her the moment I came out of the bathroom, “how could you sleep last night?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, turning to look at me. Mama turned her gently back toward her and continued buttoning her dress.

“School. You’re not excited? Nervous?”

Miriam looked at me, a little confused. “But I was tired.”

I laughed. Miriam always fell asleep no matter what. Even when we were waiting for the boat, and I couldn’t sleep because I was worried we would miss it, Miriam slept. But now? I thought she would be more excited — her first day of school in a new place. And at home (our old town is still home) she hadn’t gone to school. We’d known we were leaving soon.

Finally, Papa came in the door.

“Papa!” I jumped up, grabbing my bag off the table and running over to him.

“I see you’re all ready,” Papa smiled. “Come.”

He took my hand in one of his, and Miriam’s hand in the other, and together we started off through the city of Chevron.

“Is it far?” I asked.

“We’ll be there soon,” Papa answered. And sure enough, it was only a few minutes of walking before Papa pointed to a building ahead of us. “There,” he said.

The bubbles in my stomach were bouncing around as Papa led us to the front door.

There was a teacher passing by just as we opened the door, and Papa said something to her. Something in Hebrew, which I didn’t really understand.

And then, before I knew what had happened, I was standing at the door of my classroom. Miriam was with me. The school here is small. Not like our old school. Here, a few grades learn in the same classroom together, so Miriam and I would have the same teachers.

I glanced around the room and touched the short, cropped haircut Mama had insisted on giving me last night. I was glad that she had. My hair had grown long over the past few months, but the girls here all had short hair.

“Hi?” I said, marching into the room. One girl who was standing near me turned around.

“Hi,” she said, “what’s your name? Did you just move here?” The words were in Yiddish. Yay.

“Elka,” I replied, “And this is my sister Miriam. We got here a few days ago.” I was relieved that she spoke Yiddish. I would be able to talk to someone! Maybe even make friends! “But we needed to unpack and rest.” I looked around the classroom at the two- person tables and continued, “Do you know where I should sit?”

The girl looked around and shrugged. “It depends how old you are.” She pointed to the first row of desks. “Those are for kitah alef.” She pointed to the next row. “Those are for kitah beis.

“The younger children, who are still in gan, also share this room when they need to sit somewhere, and then they sit there,” she added, pointing to the final row.

I looked over at the kitah beis row. My grade. There were three desks. That meant six girls, I supposed, but I would have to wait until the teacher came in and everyone sat down, and then I would really know.

Giving Miriam a little push, I showed her where the kitah alef girls sat. “This is going to be your row,” I said to her.

And then I was ready. I was excited. Just wait until I learned Hebrew — my friends back home were going to be so jealous.

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 901)