There was the first interview. My parents drove me to some obscure location where the seminary interview was being held. We managed to get lost a few times before locating the correct address. My parents took a seat in the waiting area. I made my way into the inner chamber, and sat before the principal. She glanced at me, and asked, “Are you the oldest in your family?” That wasn’t such a tough question. I could handle that. I confidently answered that I’m the fourth. “Why did both of your parents bring you?” she inquired, eying me shrewdly. Let’s just say the rest of the interview didn’t go too well.

Then there was the next interview. I went with a group of my friends from high school. It was the school of choice for most of my chevreh. When it was my turn, I sat down with the principal. He asked me for the names of my friends. Naturally, most of them were applying to his school. Somehow that meant something to him. After a few more questions, he assured me that I hadn’t messed up my interview. I wasn’t quite sure how to take that.

Then there was the real winner. It took place in my school, as that seminary was a popular choice for many girls. I sat down in an office that had been vacated by my assistant principal. I don’t remember anything the seminary principal asked me, except for one question. He essentially asked me what my first choice was. Being a good girl, I told him the truth. And it wasn’t his school. He didn’t finish off by telling me that I hadn’t messed up. I walked out of the office, devastated that I had messed up my chances of getting into the seminary. The assistant principal saw me, and asked what had happened. I told her the story, and she shared words that have stayed with me since. She looked at me and said, “Avigail, you never lose out by telling the truth.”

I went home, and wrote down those words, and put the paper in a special box, where I kept things that were important to me. With the assistant principal’s reassurance, I knew I had done the right thing by giving up the opportunity to go to this school. The thought that I might not get into any seminary, however, never crossed my mind.

Yet, somehow, there I was in the guidance counselor’s office, crying miserably, trying to figure out what to do next. “There’s another school you can try,” she counseled me. “It’s new, and it seems like it might be what you’re looking for.” I had considered applying to that school before, but hadn’t wanted to take a chance with a new school. Now, it seemed I had no choice.

I applied, and had an interview with a principal who was less threatening than the other ones. I watched the mailbox. One, two, three letters came. All were very nicely worded, with the same message. “We don’t want you.” Finally, the fourth school sent me a letter of acceptance! Like it or not, this is where I would go.

I won’t say that it was easy. There were definitely challenges in attending a school that’s still finding itself. The reality is that, despite the school’s growing pains, I found a place where I was able to thrive. For one thing, after attending a high school that was on the larger side, I found it refreshing to be in a small school. I was no longer a little fish in a big pond. I mattered. I was able to shine. I tutored other girls for tests. I was in choir. I helped edit the yearbook. I met teachers who shaped me, many of whom I’m in touch with till today. I spent a lot of time at the seminary principal’s house, and became very close with his family, particularly his oldest daughter, who is my age.

I look back at that particular life challenge, and shake my head in amazement. Now, I have the zechus of living in a wonderful community in Eretz Yisrael, together with my husband and four children, baruch Hashem. My seminary principal’s daughter continues to be a close friend, as she lives a few blocks away.

And so, to all those high school seniors who eagerly check the mailbox, as the ides of February approach, don’t make the mistake that I made. Of course, there’s no way around the fact that sitting at a seminary interview can be pretty intimidating. But the reality is that the principal is just a shaliach. There’s no reason to be scared of the decisions of a human being. Hashem is in the interview office with you.

And you know you’re always at the top of His list.

(Originally Featured in XXX, Issue XXX)