The First Last

Yesterday afternoon was the final session of the program I wrote about in The Shabbos Sisters. I was looking forward to spending time with the few girls who had continued to attend, who's company I had strangely come to enjoy. I wasn't sad, just eager to complete my surprising tenure as a group leader on a confident and satisfying note. It was a happy ending, or so I had though.

Unfortunately, because it was the last week, many girls who hadn't come in months decided to return for one last hurrah. The numbers weren't overwhelming, about six or seven girls in my group, but the bulk of them were some of the worst behaved little heathens I had ever met. How difficult can it be to respond in positive to "Devora, please stop screaming," or "No Bracha, you can't take the entire bag of lollipops for yourself" ? They became so out of control that even the girls who were normally better behaved went wild- if I hadn't been so appalled, I would have been able to write a pages-long thesis on the complete lack of resistance to social facilitation of fourth grade girls. At one point, there were about five of them shrieking some nonsense at the top of their lungs, and each canine-pitched catcall resonated louder and louder around the useless acoustic perfection of the detention room until it got to the point that I actually had to walk out and let my friend deal with them alone for a few minutes. My friend did manage to coerce them into playing some sort of game, but the level of noise was still significant enough to make thought processes difficult, and by that time the session was all but over.

Overall, it was a highly disappointing conclusion to a difficult and often unpleasant undertaking. I know I tried my best and I'm sure I have grown somehow from the experience, but I can't help but wish my efforts had been awarded a more satisfying sendoff. Hopefully my upcoming good-byes, which antagonize me far more than I anticipated yesterday's to, will resultantly be eased by the ordeal.