#GivetheSchoolsBacktothePeople

#MakeOurSchoolsGreatAgain

“So, I know it sounds like a big job,” Zeesy said, later that night. Gazing around her living room, she was rather proud of the team of mothers she had assembled on such short notice. True, Elkie Fish, who kept dozing off, probably wouldn’t be much help, what with her newborn twins. And Rivky Gross had only shown up to get the scoop on what was going on. But Faigy, dependable Faigy, sat next to her with a clipboard in hand. And then there was their real coup: Elisheva Lorelson. Sitting ramrod straight, as if she were attending a high-powered corporate meeting, the CEO of Sunrise Properties, LLC, kept her gaze trained unwaveringly on Zeesy.

“But I think if we work on this together, we can do it,” Zeesy concluded. “As long as we keep our eyes on the goal — getting our kids back in school and out of our hair!”

Around the room, heads were nodding vigorously. Elkie Fish, who had shaken herself awake, applauded. Only Elisheva Lorelson was frowning.

“Is this really our goal?” she asked.

Twenty pairs of astonished eyes turned to stare at the great CEO. What could she possibly mean? Hadn’t she, like all the rest of them, just endured ten weeks of unstructured, undivided, unceasing family time? Or — perhaps — great CEOs with housekeepers and nannies couldn’t possibly appreciate…

The stares morphed into scowls, and Elisheva said hurriedly, “Listen, what you’re suggesting is a band-aid, to bridge the gap between when you want school to start and when the administration will be ready to start. But what I’m saying is that the real fix requires something much deeper. There’s clearly something wrong with the management of the school. To have everything falling apart at once? None of us would run our businesses that way.” More glowers. She raised her voice. “None of us would run our homes that way! Think about it. We are all CEOs of our families. We all know what it means to keep things running smoothly and efficiently!” (Here Zeesy squirmed. And she was not, she noticed, the only one.)

Elisheva’s voice reached a crescendo. “We can all of us, we mothers of the world, teach the school what it means to run a really successful organization! Teach all of our schools! I say if we’re doing it, let’s do it right! Change ‘Save Our School’ to ‘Save Our Schools’ and teach the world what a well-run institution looks like!”

She ended on a burst of triumph, and Zeesy noted that each woman in the room had squared her shoulders and raised her chin, as if ready to assume her noble undertaking. Realizing the floor was hers once more, she cleared her throat nervously — after Elisheva’s speech, things had suddenly taken on a much more solemn aura — and said, “So I thought we’d divide up into committees. One for temporary premises. One for maintenance. One for preschool teachers. And one to — ahem — locate the principal. If you’ll please sign up with Faigy….” As she watched the women begin to congregate around Faigy’s clipboard, she added, “Good luck to us all.”

Wednesday, Aug. 30

“The Committee for Operation Temporary Premises is officially called to order!” Zeesy declared. As the head of this initiative, she thought it was only right that she should lead each committee. “Ideas?”

“Rent auditorium space from other local schools?” Shira suggested.

“Rent? How about borrow?” said Batya. “They should be thrilled to do us the chesed, considering our situation!”

“Contact shuls,” said Risa. “Or local catering halls. Between all of the neighborhood institutions, there should be plenty of available space.”

“I love it! We’ll have the perfect premises arranged in no time,” Zeesy cried, punching the air. “Let’s do it, girls!”

All of the ladies gave answering cries, except for Elkie Fish. She was fast asleep.

“Maintenance,” Zeesy intoned impressively. “The backbone of a school. A dirty job, but somebody’s got to do it. And it’s up to us to find that somebody.”

She nodded at the small group of women sitting in front of her. “So, who do we know who cleans well?”

“My grandmother,” said Shifra.

“Carol, my cleaning lady,” said Tikva. “And, hey, she could probably bring all her cousins, too.”

Doubtfully, Zeesy said, “I think we need to set down some criteria first. Like, they have to be legally allowed to work in this country. And under the age of seventy.”

“Let’s do a rotation of mothers!” exclaimed Chaya. “Between all the hundreds of mothers in the school, if each mother volunteers one morning, we’d have the best maintenance staff around!”

Zeesy smiled at the women sitting around her dining-room table. “Okay, ladies, we’re here to find eight preschool teachers within the next four days. Piece of cake! There must be thousands of girls out there just back from seminary and desperate to land a good job like this. Like, what about the Meyerson girl, Yaeli? She’s my kids’ favorite babysitter.”

Rivky Gross shook her head. “She already has a job as a bookkeeper,” she said.

“How about my neighbor’s daughter, Esti Greenberg?” piped up Bracha. “She’s great with kids.”

“Nope,” said Rivky. “She hates working with kids.”

Bracha blinked. “Oh. Well, there’s my own Rochel, of course, maybe she—”

Rivky raised an eyebrow. “You think she’ll want to? When she’s about to get — you know…”

Bracha stared at her in shock, her cheeks red. “Since you seem to know everything about everyone, why don’t you tell us who would be the right person for the job.”

Rivky gave them a mysterious smile. “Well, I’ll tell you. But you’re not going to like the answer…”

Elisheva opened her laptop as she waited for the flight to take off, glancing around wistfully at all the lighthearted vacationing folk filling up the plane. Ah well, she mused, she supposed this could count as a vacation of sorts for her, as well. Certainly, it would be an adventure.

She grinned to herself as she settled back in her seat for the flight to Costa Rica.

CynicsUnite.blogspot.com

Guest blogpost from: Time to Wake Up and Smell the Coffee.

By now we’ve all heard about the travesty going on in Bais Yaakov Bnos Shprintze Masha Ruchoma, and it’s called PLACING OUR CHILDREN LAST! Everything else matters but our children. Money matters! Pride matters! Saving their own reputations — and hefty pensions — matters! BUT OUR CHILDREN DON’T. And our children are left suffering, as the school pretends to attempt to get its act together in time to open the school by — who knows? Chanukah, maybe. Surprised? It’s the same old story playing out in schools across the world. Administrators don’t care, teachers don’t care, nobody cares.

But there’s a new story here. A group of mothers who do care, and have decided to take matters into their own hands. Let’s wish them luck as they work to fight the system and show that our schools can and should be different!

From: slevenstein@BYBSMR.org

To: nsteinman@BYBSMR.org

Subject: Please come back!

Please please please please please please please

Thursday, Aug. 31

10:00 AM

“Hi, we’re calling on behalf of Bais Yaakov Bnos Shprintze Masha Ruchoma to ask whether your school can accommodate our students until our regular facilities will be ready… What? No, this isn’t a joke! We’ll let a different organization have the zechus, then!”

10:04 AM

“Hi, we’re calling on behalf of Bais Yaakov Bnos Shprintze Masha Ruchoma to ask whether your shul can accommodate some of our students temporarily— Uh, elementary school age… Do they eat? What kind of question is that? Of course they eat! … Oh, I see.”

10:07 AM

“Hello, we’re calling on behalf of Bais Yaakov Bnos Shprintze Mash— Oh, fine, be that way!”

Batya scowled at the phone, gone dead in her hands.

10:53 AM

“Hi, we’re calling on behalf of Bnos Shprintze et al to find out whether your facility can temporarily house a group of perfectly angelic students who don’t eat, don’t speak, and don’t even sneeze, until their regular building is repaired… How much? Aren’t you a shul? Are you really going to charge a strapped-for-cash Torah institution that— Oh, you’re a pizza store? Er, ahem, sorry about that.”

Friday, Sept. 1

“Remember, ladies, Mr. Clean is your best friend.” Carol swiveled like a game show hostess as she presented Exhibits A, B, and C in her Cleaning 101 course. She’d offered the committee her choice of courses: from her introductory “Sweeping It Under the Rug” all the way to her post-doctorate “The In-Laws Are Coming!”

“I never knew she was such an entrepreneur,” Tikva whispered to Shifra, watching her cleaning lady.

Shifra whispered back, “You better believe it. If more people don’t show up, we’re going to end up having to split the cost, and let me tell you, she’s charging a bundle.”

The two ladies looked around worriedly. They’d been so sure that their mass invitation to the BYBSMR parent body to attend a workshop on specialized cleaning would elicit an overwhelming response. But, even when they sent out a second e-mail stressing that it was for the purpose of doing a unique chesed for the school, the response was shockingly paltry.

As in, the four committee members, Zeesy, and Faigy, who was eagerly writing down every word Carol said.

Minutes from Committee A — Operation Temporary Premises

Following extensive efforts, it has been arranged that:

1. Preschoolers will meet on Mondays, Wednesdays, and alternating Fridays in the home of Zeesy Z. and on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and alternating Fridays in the playground across the street (assuming fair weather).
2. Grades 1-2 will meet in the den and basement of Batya L.
3. Grade 3 will meet in the home of Shira S.
4. Grade 4 will meet in the backyard of Ilana W., with a tent provided in case of rain
5. Grade 5 will meet in the home of Risa B.
6. Grade 6 will meet in the apartment of Risa B.’s parents, until they return from their Alaskan cruise
7. Grade 7 will meet in the home of Elky F., with the exception of those hours when Elky’s babies are sleeping
8. Grade 8 will convene in Rami’s Pizza Shop, moving to the parking lot during peak hours, and, on occasion, in the King Solomon Assisted Living Home
9. It should be noted that all private home accommodations exclude Fridays, cleaning lady days, and should a mother-in-law drop in for a surprise visit.

Shabbos, Sept. 2

“How’s the school project coming along?” Faigy asked, sitting on Zeesy’s couch.

Zeesy sighed. “Who ever knew running a school could be so hard?”

“Yeah, and especially when you’re running a whole subversive movement at the same time,” Faigy commented.

Zeesy blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Haven’t you read the Cynics Unite blog? They said you’re trying to fight the system, to show how our schools can and should be run.”

Zeesy snorted. “Cynics Unite? You mean you actually read that garbage?”

“Sometimes they post good recipes.” Faigy scratched at a stain on the couch. “So you mean it’s not true?”

Sunday, Sept. 3

Elisheva wiped the sweat off her forehead and pulled some tropical leaves out of her sheitel. It had been hard work discovering where Naomi Steinman was staying. Luckily, she had contacts all over the world, and after several days, she’d finally gotten word that the elusive BYBSMR principal had been located. They had warned her the place was remote, but she hadn’t realized just how remote.

Still, as she brushed aside some branches, she reflected with satisfaction that, finally, she would get some answers.

Monday, Sept. 4

“I told you, you weren’t going to like my idea,” said Rivky Gross.

They’d spent the week tracking down every single post-seminary girl they knew, and Zeesy had discovered three things in the process: One, there were not “thousands” of post-seminary girls in their neighborhood, but a mere handful. Second, that post-seminary girls are hard to track down, and even harder to pin down. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Ziskin. I’d love to help if I could. Have you tried Hindy Mandel? You couldn’t reach her? Ah, right, she’s in Denver right now, helping out with her new nephew. Maybe Dini Fuchs? Oh, just kidding, she’s in Switzerland visiting with a seminary friend. Gosh, I wish I could help.”

And third, Zeesy thought, as she watched 40 little girls throwing toys all over her basement, she really did not enjoy being a preschool teacher.

“I understand why you thought we had no choice but to do the job ourselves,” Zeesy hissed back to Rivky Gross, who had assumed the role of preschool assistant. “But why did you insist we run this orientation?”

Rivky shrugged innocently. “Tradition,” she said, as she reached out an arm to stop one girl from grabbing at another one’s cup of juice. “Oh, darn,” she exclaimed, as the cup of juice spilled all over the floor. She raised her voice. “Maintenance! We have a spill!”

With a killer glare, Shifra came over with a mop. “Yes, miss,” she said through gritted teeth.

CynicsUnite.blogspot.com

Will they or won’t they? As mentioned by our recent guest blogger, the countdown has begun, as we all watch with bated breath to see whether the SOS Mom Squad will succeed where the entire BYBSMR administration has failed.

Yet word has reached us that all is not pretty at the Squad. It appears that they, too, have fallen into the power trap of appointing themselves to plum positions, rather than finding those most worthy for the roles. Has corruption in our community become so rampant and absolute?

Elisheva crept silently through the thicket until she came to a small clearing. A smile slowly spread across her face as she spotted her prey, sitting on a rock in the center of the grass. With a shout of triumph, she pounced.

“Mrs. Steinman! Fancy meeting you here!”

Naomi Steinman looked up, startled. Then, as she took in the vine-covered Elisheva Lorelson, she gave a slow sigh.

“So I’ve been found at last. Sit down.” Her lips curled. “Have some coffee, Mrs. Lorelson?”

Elisheva glanced sharply at the principal as she sat down cross-legged on the grass. Her face paled. “How did you know?”

Naomi indicated the phone on her lap. “‘Time to Wake Up and Smell the Coffee?’ When you’re the CEO of Sunrise Properties? How obvious can you get?”

Elisheva blinked. “Your wisdom is greater than I’d realized,” she murmured. She leaned forward. “But why are you hiding out here in Costa Rica when your school needs you so badly? Isn’t that proof of your apathy and/or incompetence?”

Naomi Steinman shook her head sadly, as she idly looked down at an incoming text on her phone. Elisheva caught the words please please please please before Naomi turned her phone off.

“I’m tired of it all,” she said, staring into the distance. “Do you know what it’s like to work 24 hours a day — a lot harder than you’ll ever work, Ms. CEO — and get what at the end? Money? That’s a laugh. A living wage, maybe. Kavod? The joke of the century. If I’m lucky, I simply have a young do-gooder like Mrs. Ziskin who thinks she can jump in with no experience and run a school as easily as I can. But I also have to deal with the types of people who write on Cynics Unite…” She still kept her gaze trained outward.

There was silence for several moments. At last, the principal stirred. “Go, Mrs. Lorelson. You’ve done your job. Don’t worry, I know my responsibilities. But, oh, wouldn’t it be fun staying here forever letting other people do the real work while I just sit and criticize from the sidelines?” She gave a maniacal laugh, as Elisheva silently crept away.

From: admin@BYBSMR.org

To: Parents

Subject: Return to Building

Dear Parents,

We are pleased to report that, due to the intense efforts of many behind the scenes, we will soon be able to return to our building, following approval by the relevant authorities. We would like to thank Mrs. Zeesy Ziskin and her committee for stepping up to the plate during this interim period.

We look forward to a cooperative, productive, and fruitful year together.

Mrs. Naomi Steinman

Principal

To: nsteinman@BYBSMR.org

From: slevenstein@BYBSMR.org

Subject: Re: return flight booked

Yes yes yes yes yes yes!

Monday, Sept. 25

CynicsUnite.blogspot.com

So they’ve somehow managed to get their act together. BYBSMR will be returning to their school building, only three weeks late. Do you hear that, folks? Three weeks into the school year, and they’ve already managed to fall afoul of the Department of Health, the school maintenance workers’ union, and the US consulate in Costa Rica (some strange rumors coming out of that country about foreign workers pressed into an espionage mission — more on this exposי as details unfold). Now, thanks in large part to the SOS Mom Squad, one more school is back in business. I leave my readers to determine whether this is a good thing.

Comment from ItsTimetoWakeUp@SmelltheCoffee.com

It’s a good thing.

Comment from FaigyG@gmail.com

All I can say is, thank G-d for our schools.

CynicsUnite, please stick to recipes.

(Originally featured in Family First Issue 557)