Mrs. Levy, the director, shook hands warmly with them. “Shalom! Welcome.”

The woman started to speak about the organization, but her English was slow and halting, and she kept pausing to grope for words. At last, she asked, “Okay in Hebrew?”

Mrs. Edelman threw an inquiring glance at ZeeZee, who nodded instantly. One of her goals for her chesed placement was to learn Hebrew. Clearly relieved, Mrs. Levy shot off a Hebrew so rapid, ZeeZee only managed to pick up isolated words, like yeladim.

When Mrs. Levy paused to answer a phone call, ZeeZee hissed, “What in the world did she say?”

Mrs. Edelman filled her in. This was an afterschool center; the children were bused here directly from their schools. The center fed them a hot meal, and then occupied them in therapeutic play until 6:00 when their parents came to pick them up. Much of Shleimut’s staff consisted of volunteers from local girls’ high schools, and ZeeZee would be joining them.

ZeeZee brightened at hearing that last part. Cool! She’d finally get to meet some real Israeli girls.

Mrs. Levy apologized for the interruption, and began to show them around the building. As they walked, she asked ZeeZee some questions about herself.

ZeeZee swallowed. “My experience? Well, back in tenth grade, I used to take a little autistic boy on Shabbos walks once a month. He was cute.” She decided to leave it at that. No need to say that he was a little terror, and that she’d dropped out of the Shabbos rotation after three times.

Mrs. Levy nodded encouragingly, and looked like she expected more. ZeeZee racked her brains. “Um, I have lots of experience with kids in general. I have a ton of nieces and nephews, and lots of them consider me their favorite aunt.”

The image of Chana Malka suddenly arose in her mind, and she was seized with an uncontrollable urge to giggle. She pressed her lips firmly together to rein in the laughs, and saw Mrs. Levy watching her.

I look like a moron, ZeeZee thought frantically, as she tried loosening her mouth muscles into a more normal expression. I’m totally flubbing this interview. Maybe it was time to make her offer for a ZeeZee Keller wing?

But Mrs. Levy was smiling once again, and called her “chamudah.” ZeeZee didn’t know if that was like when she called her friends “cute,” or if the lady was trying to say that she had the maturity level of a two-year-old. She frowned. Being accompanied by her teacher probably didn’t help that impression.

Mrs. Edelman, at least, seemed to be enjoying herself. She was asking Mrs. Levy a whole bunch of questions, and the director was answering quite animatedly. At last Mrs. Levy gestured them into a large room at the end of the hall. Inside, there were about twenty children sitting around tables. Some were eating on their own, while others were being fed by teenage volunteers.

“Here are the children,” said Mrs. Levy, switching back to English and sweeping her arm around the room proudly. She pointed at ZeeZee. “You try, yes?”

Before ZeeZee knew what was happening, the director was leading her to the far corner of the room.

A volunteer sat between two children, alternately spoon-feeding each one.

“Shalom, Sari,” Mrs. Levy said. “We have new girl here.”

Sari gave her a curious look and a shy hello, and instantly moved to sit on the other side of one of the children, leaving an empty spot for ZeeZee next to the other one.

Mrs. Levy gestured to ZeeZee to take over, as if it were a perfectly natural thing to ask someone whom you’ve met for all of a half hour to just sit down and feed a kid strapped into a wheelchair, whose arms and legs were flailing uncontrollably.

ZeeZee stared at her. “Um, aren’t you going to, like, teach me what to do?”

Mrs. Levy waved her hand. “Is not hard. Just feed with spoon, leetle bit, leetle bit. Sari show you.” She pointed to the other girl, who was expertly spooning what looked like thickened soup into the boy’s mouth. He stuck out his tongue, eagerly lapping it up.

ZeeZee looked doubtfully at the boy sitting next to her empty chair. She looked up at Mrs. Edelman, who gave her an encouraging nod. ZeeZee pursed her lips. She was all for trying new experiences, but in front of an audience? When she had no clue what she was doing?

Still, gamely, she sat down and smiled hesitantly at the little boy, whose name, Mrs. Levy said, was Yanky. She carefully measured out a small portion of mushy soup onto the spoon and brought it gingerly to his mouth.

He immediately jerked his head away, and the soup fell onto his clothes.

ZeeZee tried again. This time, Yanky’s flailing arm knocked the spoon out of her hand and sent it spinning to the other side of the table. Blushing, ZeeZee got up to retrieve it.

She tried five more unsuccessful times, with Yanky growing more and more agitated. She felt her face growing hotter as the two women watched her silently.

After the eighth attempt, Mrs. Levy said kindly, “Don’t worry. It take time to learn.”

But by spoon number ten, which ended up spraying orange mush all over her cream-colored sweater, ZeeZee’s eyes were stinging from frustration. That’s when Mrs. Edelman stepped in.

“Can I try?” Taking the spoon, she put a gentle hand on Yanky’s arm, and murmured in Hebrew, “Does Yanky want to eat? Here’s some yummy food for Yanky.” She confidently maneuvered the spoon into his mouth, and he eagerly stuck out his tongue.

ZeeZee watched open-mouthed as Mrs. Edelman continued feeding him, as if this were something she’d done all her life. Could it be Mrs. Edelman had personal experience with special-needs kids?

“Have you, like, done this before?” she asked.

Her teacher shook her head. “No. But it’s not so different from feeding a toddler. You just need to get them to trust you. Right, Yanky?” she asked, in a high-pitched singsong that made ZeeZee blink in surprise. Somehow, she didn’t expect to hear Mrs. Edelman cooing.

ZeeZee turned to the director. “Hey, maybe you should hire her as a volunteer.”

Mrs. Levy laughed. “You two can come together.”

“No, that’s okay,” ZeeZee said quickly.

Looking around the lunchroom, she realized she’d learned two things today. One: that Mrs. Edelman was much more multi-faceted than she’d ever imagined.

And two: that she had no interest in volunteering in a special-needs afterschool progam.

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 733)