Worse than being the new student once again, however, was being the new student during war

Irony of ironies. After years of attending one school after the next, I finally ended up in the Jewish school that my favorite cousin Miriam had attended. But she had left the country.

The school was called Korush. It was the school that Miriam had spoken so much about during our long, fun chats on her roof. For years I had dreamed of walking around the schoolyard at Korush together with my favorite cousin Miriam….

But by the time we moved into the neighborhood where Korush was located, Miriam and her family had left to Israel.

Once again, I was the lonely newcomer in school. The student who knew no one in her entire class.

Yet again, I was the shy loner. The outcast.

It wasn’t a pleasant way to begin the school year. Then again, maybe I should have been used to it. Korush was, after all, the fifth school that I was attending.

But certain things don’t get easier with time.

Worse than being the new student once again, however, was being the new student during war.