The Shabbos Sisters

It is a very odd thing to be in school on Shabbos. Physical differences abound, obviously- I totter around in my three inch heels and skirts that kiss the crevice below my knees where ordinarily I scurry around in thick-soled loafers and floor sweeping black pleats. My hair is smooth and tame and the bags under my eyes are (I hope) marginally lighter than their accustomed hue of thunderstorm gray. But external differences are dwarfed next to the revolution in mindset. Five days a week, my role in school is generally restricted that of a student, with occasional pinch-hitting as a friend and messenger. On Shabbos, however, I participate in a program that organizes groups to occupy girls from the ages of five to eleven on Shabbos afternoon. My charges are a collection of fourth grade girls, the size and dynamic of which varies from week to week. Along with a friend, I attempt to entertain these girls for an hour and a half, utilizing every childhood game I can recall (which are not many- my sister and I usually preferred entertainment of the imaginary genre). While my authority operates strictly on an individual basis, it is still quite a jolt to suddenly occupy a position of leadership in the very room where I am often reprimanded for tardiness. The oddity is yet compounded by the fact that I was a great devotee of this program when I was younger, and my memory still reveres the leaders of my past.

Being a leader in this program is an enormous lesson in patience. I had not ever before considered the overwhelming volume of energy it must take to be a teacher. Baby-sitting, though the presiding hobby of my peers, has never held any attraction for me at all. I do not particularly enjoy taking care of children, particularly those I do not know, and money was never something I had much desire to procure for myself. And yet somehow, for some reason, I became a member of this program, and have had to tap into reserves I had no idea existed.

Today, for instance, my co-leader was unable to come, and I was left to exert order over what quickly became a large, raucous gaggle of nine or ten girls. One girl in particular, who had not attended in several weeks, posed a particular problem. For some unbeknownst reason, she and another girl became exceedingly wild and erratic, progressing to the point of mild insanity. And of course, as with all children still so easily susceptible to group mentality, the fervor caught on. No game was able to distract them for any useful length of time, and as yet more girls arrived, I was soon reduced to a powerless figure attempting to make myself heard above a din I could never hope to rival. A game of limbo, suggested by the overall head, became a squabble over the height of the bar (which I attempted to suspended by holding one end and pressing the other against the wall) and whether girls had or had not violated the rules. (I had never known limbo could be so absurdly complicated!) In addition to which, my shoes, which I had removed in order to stand on a chair and raise the bar, were quickly seized by the two aforementioned girls and paraded on small, sweaty, wholly unwelcome feet. They undid the buckles and then squabbled over which of the two could wear them when. I eventually had to pad around the ground floor and basement in my school in nothing but stockings until I located the culprits and was able to regain my much abused heels.

Let me not give too negative an impression, however! Amusingly enough, I have actually enjoyed some previous weeks experiences, though at the beginning it was extremely rough going. There are four weeks left of this program- hopefully the future will mirror the past more than the present.