The problem with ZeeZee was that she said the most outlandish things with such temimus

Chava tapped her fingers on the desk, the sound reverberating in the empty classroom. She glanced once more at her watch. ZeeZee was ten minutes late. Not that Chava was surprised.

What surprised her was her own nervousness. As a mechaneches, it was her job to keep tabs on the 21 girls in her class and help them with any issues. She always made sure to meet with each girl once before their Succos break.

She’d saved ZeeZee for the very last. There was something about the girl that made her apprehensive. She didn’t understand it — an experienced teacher like herself cowed by an 18-year-old girl? It was absurd.

But here she was, ashamed to admit that part of her was hoping ZeeZee wouldn’t show.

“Hi, Mrs. Edelman. Sorry I’m late.”

There she was, grinning disarmingly as she sat in the seat across from Chava’s desk. “Mrs. Litwin asked us to come to the office after lunch to pick up our chesed request forms.”

Chava seized the opening. “Oh? So what are you planning on requesting?”

ZeeZee sat up straighter in her chair. “I’ve been thinking a lot about it. There are so many opportunities out there! Something different, that’s for sure. Like, I thought maybe volunteering in the children’s ward of the hospital? You know, like those clowns who come around and make the kids happy.”

Chava pulled off her glasses and began to wipe the lenses, at a loss for how to respond. The problem with ZeeZee was that she said the most outlandish things with such temimus, as if she honestly didn’t see anything wrong with it.