“So she told them not to say anything. Not to publicly clear her name. Just to let her leave to America so that the teacher wouldn’t be embarrassed and could retire quietly in a couple of years, without being sent away"

Aunt Chana perches on Raizy’s bed, tucking her arm around Raizy like they’re best buddies. I guess she’s a cool enough mother, because Raizy doesn’t seem to mind.

“So, Shayna — your mother — is literally my hero,” she begins. That’s sweet, and Ima is kind of mine, too. Really, I just want to hear the story, the story that will answer — hopefully — all of my questions. What exactly happened that made Ima leave and go so far away to complete her school years? And why didn’t she come back when they were over?

“You have to understand that back then, things weren’t like they are now,” Aunt Chana says, earnestly. “Schools and teachers weren’t so aware and didn’t cater to girls who had a hard time in school. Girls who struggled with listening in class, taking notes, and studying  simply didn’t do well. There weren’t slideshows, visual aids, colorful worksheets, any of that. And we never played games in class, either,” she adds, laughing.

“Sounds like you grew up in the 1800s,” Raizy remarks, and Aunt Chana pretends to swat at her, playfully.

“Nope, it was a whole century later than that, and honestly, there were probably other schools that already had differentiated learning styles in place. But here in good old PBY, they just weren’t exactly holding there yet. And it had a lot to do with one specific teacher.”

“One teacher had so much of a say?” Raizy voices my question.

“She was a pretty powerful personality in the school,” Aunt Chana says. “And she wasn’t just a teacher. She was actually the assistant principal, and she taught several lessons to every class. Kodesh, of course. Her favorite subjects were dikduk and bekius, but I seem to remember her teaching halachah and Chumash as well. Like I said, she taught a couple of subjects every year, so we had her a lot.”

“Why do I feel like she plays a big role in this story?” Raizy says, laughing.

“She does,” Aunt Chana winks. “So, like I said, this teacher taught many subjects and was extremely old-school. She came over from Germany at the beginning of the war as a child, and she had a very strict kind of personality. And she — well, she and your mother didn’t get along.” I take it to mean that she and Ima actually hated each other. Aunt Chana always says everything a little nicer.

“I think she thought your mother was purposely not trying in her classes. She saw a bright girl — everyone knew your mother was clever and creative — who just wasn’t performing well in her tests and homework. She just assumed it was bad behavior. Not bothering to try. She didn’t realize that she had a real learning disability and couldn’t do it.”

I bite my lip. Seriously, this teacher had judged Ima so wrongly. How could she have thought that?

“The point is,” Aunt Chana says hurriedly, seeming to realize she had to get to the end of the story already, “at some point, they were clashing very badly, all the time. Other teachers got involved, the principal — it was sticky. And then this teacher accused Shayna — your mother — of cheating. In a GCSE.”

GCSEs, the national tests that my classmates take so seriously?! And Ima had been accused of cheating?

“She wasn’t in Year 11, but the way it worked was that they took a few GCSEs in younger years, staggering them. And when Mrs. — this teacher — thought your mother had cheated, she disqualified her from all of them. And that was beyond awful — considering that your mother had worked for days and nights, struggling to study for them.”

Oh, my goodness, I can’t actually believe this. Ima! How could they have done that to her?

“There was a whole story, back and forth, the school, your mother, Bubby and Zaidy, the other teachers, the principal…. In the end, a few things happened.” Aunt Chana pauses. Raizy and I are both hanging onto her every word. “One, they realized your mother had been saying the truth all along. Two, it was too late to undo the damage — her exam papers had been disqualified.

“And three — the assistant principal was going to be asked to leave the school.”

“Was going to?” Raizy and I ask, together.

“Yes.” Aunt Chana’s eyes mist up. “That’s where your mother was a real hero. While this whole thing was going on, she’d been suspended from school. That’s when the idea of America came up, and she was thinking of transferring to school there. But then when the school realized what happened, they felt terrible. They wanted to let the assistant principal go and clear your mother’s name, bring her back to school….”

Aunt Chana’s eyes are distant. “But she said no. She knew that this teacher had nothing else, no one else in her life. She knew how much she had suffered, being torn from her parents at a young age. And she knew that the school would make sure something like this wouldn’t happen again to another girl.

“So she told them not to say anything. Not to publicly clear her name. Just to let her leave to America so that the teacher wouldn’t be embarrassed and could retire quietly in a couple of years, without being sent away. And with that, she left to the States, never mind that she’d been embarrassed and humiliated. She just wanted to make sure no one else was hurt. Even the person who’d caused her to suffer so badly.”

I let out a breath, long and loud. Ima. She’s just… amazing. How did I ever doubt her?

Raizy’s mulling this over.  “So that’s why she left and went so far. But how come she stayed there? Is it because people thought badly of her over here?”

“Exactly.” Aunt Chana shakes her head. “People can be… judgmental. Shayna wanted a fresh start; she liked the school in America, the community. She stayed there for shidduchim — why come back where people still thought of her as the girl who’d been kicked out of school?”

“She didn’t have to. She could have cleared her name,” Raizy pipes in.

“Of course, she could have,” Aunt Chana tells Raizy. “But you know Aunt Shayna. Or maybe you don’t, but Ashira, you know your mother. When she has her mind set on what she feels is right, nothing and no one can stop her.”

She pauses. “Oh, and you were wondering why she sent you back here, to the lions’ den? Well, this teacher retired many, many years ago and is now in an old age home. So now, she wants to show that she has no hard feelings toward the school. And honestly, it’s changed so much. They even built a new building in the meantime. The only thing that’s the same as when we were there is the name.”

Raizy and I are quiet after that, too lost in our own thoughts. As I get ready for bed, Raizy goes back to the mirror to finish her hair.

But the next morning, after breakfast, Raizy’s waiting for me at the door.

“Wanna walk to school together?” she says.

It’s the first time that’s happened. I guess a midnight DMC does something.

Just in time before I move back to Bubby’s, I think sardonically. Last night, after the party, Bubby mentioned that in a week or so she’d want me to move back in with her.

So that will be another change, but this time, at least it’s a familiar one.

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 965)