From A to Z: Chapter 2
| July 27, 2021“Just leave me alone, Mrs. Adler,” I said. “I don’t want your help.” I swallowed a sob and walked out
She is still young, innocent, and hopeful. School might be a cocoon for her, where she is safe and happy and accommodated; but the minute she goes out into the world she’ll be completely lost, and who knows what will happen to her? I cannot let that happen; I have to help her in every way I can.
Shulamis must read. I will make sure of that. She has to be successful.
The next day I came to school with a pit in my stomach. It turned out I had every reason to be nervous.
Mrs. Adler launched her battle during the very first lesson of the day; she called on me to read. I obviously refused. I sat there, silent, slowly turning bright red, my lips sealed, looking at my shoes. The whole class was staring.
Chaya, my seat mate, tried to save the day and started to read, but Mrs. Adler held a hand up.
“Is your name Shulamis?” she asked coldly. Chaya’s voice faded away, and her face turned its own, gentle shade of pink. I wanted the ground to swallow me up.
Somehow, the lesson continued, but from that day onward, things went in a sharp downward spiral. Every day, every lesson, turned into a bloody battlefield.
She tried to make me read in every way she could. I kept my lips shut. She gave my parents phone numbers of specialists to call. I refused to go. Mrs. Adler became my nightmare. I used to wake up at night, with visions of her dancing in front of me waving a gigantic book, saying that I will not be allowed out of class until I read the whole book. The first time I dreamed that dream I was just laughing hysterically for the rest of the night, but the next day I faked stomach pain and didn’t go to school. I knew running away was not the answer, but I just had to avoid that teacher.
I should have known better. The day after that, when I did go to school, Mrs. Adler called me over.
“Hello, Shulamis.” She smiled at me, but her blue eyes remained hard, determined. I nodded mutely and sat down on the chair she offered me.
“Shulamis,” she started softly, “I want to help you.” Her voice sounded sugary, fake. I cringed in my seat, missing the next few words she said.
“Why won’t you cooperate?” she asked. I looked at her and shook my head.
“I won’t cooperate,” I said slowly. “I won’t, because you are forcing me. I know, like you know, that it’s hopeless. I can’t read. And it’s not my fault.” I was trying hard to stay respectful, but apparently it wasn’t working. Mrs. Adler’s face hardened.
“Respect your teachers, Shulamis,” she said evenly. “And I only want to help you! I only want to—”
“I don’t care.” I really didn’t, at that point. I was shocked at my own disrespect. I never spoke like that to a teacher. “Just leave me alone. Please. Don’t try to help me. I’ll be okay.”
Mrs. Adler’s blue eyes flickered with something. Was it sadness? I didn’t know. I knew, however, that I was reaching my breaking point. This conversation wasn’t going anywhere, and it had only been two minutes since I walked into that room.
“I know people like you, Shulamis.” Mrs. Adler was trying again. This time her voice was like sugar candy. Hard, but sweet at the same time. She was trying — I will give her credit for that.
“They refused to learn how to read, and it led them to bad places. I don’t want the same happening to you. We need to work on helping you read. I have a whole list of exercises we can do.”
I had enough.
“Just leave me alone, Mrs. Adler,” I said. “I don’t want your help.” I swallowed a sob and walked out.
I knew I deserved the detention slip I was given the next day. But that still didn’t stop me from being angry at Mrs. Adler. She was using all of her ammunition, to the degree that other girls started noticing something was amiss.
“What does she have against you, Shulamis?” Miriam, my only good friend, asked me one day, after a particularly humiliating incident where I was put down in front of the whole class.
I looked at her sadly and didn’t answer. I knew why. Miriam also knew why. Her face crumpled.
“Why don’t you just tell your parents what’s going on? Or maybe the principal?” she suggested. I snorted.
“She managed to convince my parents, grandparents, and the principal that it’s all my fault, and that I’ll only read if they pressure me really hard.” I was surprised at my own bitterness.
“I don’t get specialized exams anymore. I don’t get any help — never mind any support. And then they wonder why I’m looking so down, and my grades are going down too.” I was crying now. “Why does it have to be like this? What normal school lets his happen?”
Miriam just held my hand, quiet. Then she gave me a tissue. It was the most she could do. I was in this alone.
to be continued…
(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 871)
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It was then that it dawned on me: I wasn’t a wallflower anymore. I was Shulamis, a self-confident, friendly, talented part of the grade
