There was something in Kivi’s eyes when he heard the numbers that frightened her

Calling this classroom Advance is a facade no one buys.

“If we’re so advanced,” Zissy mutters and slams the heavy classroom door, “why can’t we go to the assembly?” Her large reading glasses slide a bit, and she pushes them back aggressively, magnifying her desperate eyes.

Tobi marvels again at how Zissy knows how to use large words in a sentence, but would never be able to identify them on paper.

Why can’t the Advance class go to the assembly? Because the principal is introducing the yearly book-reading contest to the students. A program complete with incentives for those who finish the most books. And Zissy can barely read a nursery rhyme. As hard as it is for Tobi’s students not to attend the assembly, it would be much harder — cruel even — for them to be there.

In solidarity, Tobi joins the students of the Advance classroom at the small door window to watch the throngs of students — all wearing the same uniform as Zissy — walk to the auditorium, talking, laughing, drinking from trendy water canteens. The uniform is the second failed facade. As if a yellow blouse and plaid skirt are all you need to be like everyone else.

They follow the movements without saying much. Zissy spots her sister, a year younger, surrounded by friends and talking loudly and confidently. Her face shutters.

Only Tobi notices Zissy’s sister anxiously stealing a glance at their door, probably praying that no one will see Zissy. The Advance students continue watching until the hallways are empty — save for the five other Advance students — and the bell signaling the end of recess time rings. Then, they move aside for the rest of the girls to enter. Faigy, Rina, Malky, Rechy and Sura’la.

The typical end-of-recess noise is noticeably absent with all the students at the assembly, and it’s easier for Tobi’s students to transition to learning time.

Leah, her co-teacher, enters and they divvy up the students. Tobi focuses on reading and phonemic awareness, and Leah teaches math and social skills.

Even Zissy brightens after a couple of minutes. Because, really, this classroom is exactly what she needs. She works on writing words in the sand tray and Tobi cheers her on as she manages to spell the word class correctly for the first time.

When she hears the first class returning from the assembly, Leah quietly suggests blocking out the noise by turning on music, and the girls practice cross-over exercise using a variety of moves. They’re having so much fun, even Zissy doesn’t hear the chattering outside the classroom.

It’s a world within a world, and Tobi loves every minute she spends in this self-contained bubble. There’s a thrill to her job every single day as she observes her students reach goals they never thought attainable. In September most of her students couldn’t identify all the letters of the alphabet, and now they’re learning to spell words.

It’s worth every credit she slaved over to get her BA and then her Master’s. It’s worth getting to school every day by the skin of her teeth and planning her schedule down to the minute.

At least that’s what it feels like while she teaches.

But the moment the dismissal bell rings, she’s not so sure.

She rushes outside, spots the white Volvo she hates in a parking lot full of battered old-model Siennas, and starts the daily race. She battles traffic and finally turns into Maplewood Circle and parks in front of her condo.

Three identical buildings, eight condos in each. Twenty-four lucky kollel families who won the lottery for affordable housing. It had always been the dream of the Rosh Kollel, Rabbi Glassburg, to enable his avreichim to purchase homes of their own. With the help of a philanthropist and a subsidized housing plan, his dream had become a reality.

This little community reminds Tobi somewhat of her classroom. Another world within a world. An entire ecosystem of kollel families making it work.

She crosses over to the first building to get Ari from Morah Esty. Tobi is the only woman picking up her baby at that hour. Other than her, it’s all men doing the bein hasedarim pickup, and she waits impatiently for them to clear out of the entrance so she can get her baby.

Ari safely with her, she heads to her building, walks into the lobby and up the flight of stairs. She knocks on her neighbor Yitty’s door. Before the school year, she’d thought it was an amazing arrangement for her to pay Yitty to take Chaya’la off the preschool bus every day and watch her until she gets home. But when Chaya’la falls into her hands every day in angry silence, she’s not so sure.

She doesn’t even drop her briefcase before Sruly’s bus pulls up.

Then, the four of them finally enter the house and plop onto the couch in a heap of coats, jackets, backpacks, and dirty diapers.

She changes and feeds Ari while Sruly eats endless cookies. First grade is hungry work, apparently. Chaya’la, who reportedly is a doll at Yitty’s house, makes remarkable progress perfecting the pitch of her whine all afternoon.

Tobi is so tired.

She needs help. Or at least someone to vent to, someone to acknowledge how hard she works.

But Kivi won’t be home until late, after his shiur, when it’ll seem silly to vent about events that happened so many hours ago.

Theresa rings her doorbell at six-fifteen, as she does every night. Kivi’s treat. “Isn’t it perfect? She’s on payroll at the office, and she finishes at six. Let her do cleanup and laundry while you relax.”

Relax. Right.

(Excerpted from Calligraphy: Pesach 5785; Mishpacha Issue 1057)