Being the heroic torchbearer of Torah learning doesn’t always ignite a second grader’s soul

"Gamliel! Hurry, Abba is about to leave!” “I’m almost ready, Ima, but I can’t find my Chumash anywhere. Shmaya must have moved it again…. Maaaa, Yannai always finishes the dried figs before I get any!”

“So take some roasted wheat kernels, sheifele, but hurry.”

From outside, a thump and a wail. “Shmaya always gets to lead the mule!”

“My quill snapped!”

You scoop up the baby, who is trying to tip the water bucket again, and head to the empty doorway, newly bereft of its door.

“Have a great day and learn well!” you call, but they’re already disappearing among the trees.

I often wonder about the cheder children of ancient Judea who hid in caves to avoid the Greek patrols. Did they spring excitedly out of bed each morning, alight with the promise of a new day of learning Hashem’s holy Torah? Did they thrill to gather and study in defiance of the Hellenist decrees?

Or did they fight like little wildcats, show up to school late because their sandals were missing, and complain when their mother didn’t put enough olive oil on their noon pita?