For as long as I can remember, I've always been intimidated
by aliens. Now, hold on one second; I hope I wasn't
misunderstood. Although I do enjoy reading science fiction,
I've never believed in that stuff to the extent that I would
actually go around living my life in fear of the imaginary
creatures introduced in those fables. My imagination does not
quite extend to the point that I imagine little green figures
with antennae on their heads falling from invisible crevices
in the sky.
I was actually referring to those billions of normal homo
sapiens who are, by fate, alien to me and my personality. I
simply have never been capable of acting naturally in the
presence of people with whom I am unfamiliar. I tend to
become shy and subdued when surrounded by strangers.
Don't think that brands me a quiet, withdrawn loner because
this is certainly not the case. Within my own circle of
relatives and acquaintances, I am extremely sociable,
talkative and lively. Once I get to know someone, our
chatting will never cease. Everyone who knows the real me can
testify that I'm anything but unfriendly. The challenge is
getting to know new people.
With this bit of knowledge tucked safely away, I'm sure you
could imagine the powerful impact my parents' decision had on
me when they informed me of the move we would be making a few
weeks before the beginning of the new school year.
You see, ever since I was a little girl, my family had
resided in a charming little town on the outskirts of Miami.
My parents had settled there originally with a goal of
strengthening the withering Jewish community and helping
restore Torah to this forgotten corner of the universe. At
this point, however, my brothers had become of the age that
demanded a proper yeshiva education, a necessary convenience
that our little town had no means of providing. There was
basically no alternative but to relocate to a more
established city.
The move to New York was finalized over dinner, a few weeks
before Rosh Hashona last year. I was nothing short of
devastated.
"This move is never going to work," I tried convincing my
parents late into the evening. "I mean, I'm never going to
survive the adjustment from our tiny, warm, homey school to
some huge instutition with thousands of anonymous girls
swarming its corridors! Besides, the climate in New York is
ridiculous. We're all going to hate it there."
My parents sympathized with me but remained firm in their
decision. "Look, Leah," Ma tried to get me to see how
unreasonable I was being, "your father and I have been
discussing this move for a very long time, already. We've
considered every aspect and evaluated any arguments you could
possibly come up with and quite a few you could not. What it
boils down to is that all the sacrifices we are making for
the sake of our children's education are well worth it.
However," her voice took on a delicate note, "if you prefer,
the Medleys said they would be happy to host you in their
home for the next couple of years. Although we, as your
parents, would obviously prefer that you join us and come
along to New York, the decision is all yours. It's up to you,
dear."
The alternative suggestion was one that I seriously
considered for a few days. Ilana Medley was the best friend
with whom I'd made countless plans for the upcoming year of
high school, so the idea was very tempting. But when push
came to shove, I opted for the more practical solution: to
stick with my family and face the challenges as they arose.
That's how I found myself embracing Ilana with tears in my
eyes as we stood on the front lawn of the house in which I'd
lived my entire life, as we watched the moving men loading
the last of our household contents into their heavy, already
loaded down, moving truck.
"Au revoir," I said softly in French, the language the
two of us had been learning together for the past two years
as a whimsical project. "I miss you already. Don't forget to
write," I added in the same language, the `secret code' in
which the two of us were so very fond of conversing. With her
"Bon voyage" ringing in my ears, I scrambled into the
back seat of our silver Mitsubishi and waved goodbye to all
that I had ever known.
*
I stood there on the sidewalk, all bundled in a thick wool
coat, school bag on my shoulder, staring the worst of my
nightmares straight in the eye. The school building, to my
great horror, was painted an interesting shade of green so
that it fit naturally into the vivid picture I had dreamed up
the night before. The building stood before me tall and
forbidding, like a prison ruled by aliens in the upper
hemisphere of outer space. The jailers outnumbered the
captives by about one to a million. They stampeded into the
menacing building -- the whole hundred thousands of them, at
the same moment. I couldn't tell one from another, they all
looked exactly alike. Only I stood out as the stranger. The
invader. Or captive. Whatever.
"At least I'm not green," I tried to humor myself out
of depression as I pulled myself together and walked
determinedly into the building. "Now, how am I ever going to
find my way through this whole maze to the ninth grade B
classroom?" I wondered. Reluctantly, I turned to the enemy
for help.
"Excuse me, but where is classroom 9/B?" I approached a
medium-sized girl with long brown hair tied back into a neat
ponytail.
"9/B? That's my classroom," she answered in surprise. "I
guess you're the new girl..." She smiled broadly. "Come! I'll
show you the way. And we'd better hurry," she added with with
quick glimpse at her watch. "We wouldn't want to be late on
the very first day, would we?"
We reached the classroom in record time, the girl with the
long ponytail, whose name I learned was Hadassah, chatting
all the while. "Isn't it nice that we get to wear the blouse
of our choice along with our blue skirt, even if it's only
temporary?"
"What do you mean by temporary?" I questioned
suspiciously.
"Well, of course, we normally have a uniform," she answered
matter-of-factly, "but because they're in the process of
renewing the design, we can dress as we like in the meantime.
What was the uniform in your old school like?"
"We didn't have any. In our small town, they felt it was
unnecessary."
"Wow! Lucky you! Though not any more, I suppose." She
grinned. "I bet you'll never guess what color the new
uniforms are going to be."
"Try me," I answered timidly. "They're probably green."
Hadassah stared at me wide-eyed. "How did you know?"
"Oh, just a wild guess," I replied. To myself I mused, "This
place is turning out to be more alien than I could have
dreamed up in my wildest imagination."
*
As it turned out, I wasn't the only newcomer to 9/B, and my
situation was far better than that of the other girl. As soon
as the bell announced the arrival of the first recess, the
class gathered around a tall blond girl named Rina, whom I
had at once realized was of high stature in class politics,
to discuss the arrival of the petite girl who remained glued
to her seat in the rear of the room throughout the entire
conversation.
I, by some lucky star, was immediately accepted as a natural
part of the class. Hadassah, who seeemed to be one of Rina's
closest friends, made sure I was included in all class
discussions, and what's more -- that I was in the thick of
them. The girls' friendly manner and the warm, natural way in
which they treated me chased away every last remnant of my
timidity. I was an equal in the solving of the new girl's
dilemma, and to everyone's surprise, I was the one who came
up with the solution. In fact, I turned out to be that
solution.
"I sat next to her," Rochie was conversing with Rina in so
dramatic a tone that it drew girls from all corners of the
classroom towards us, "and I can assure you, one hundred
percent for certain, that she did not understand one syllable
of the entire lesson. In fact, she didn't even understand a
word I said to her. You should have seen the bewildered look
on her face when I said, `Welcome to our bombshell of a
class.' "
"The way you talk, I'd expect anyone to look
bewildered," Shaindy muttered.
"No, but you don't get it!" Rochie nearly shrieked, "I highly
doubt that she understood even the `welcome' part! I couldn't
get one word of sense out of her throughout the entire
lesson. For all I know, she may be deaf."
"You probably scared her," Chaya threw in. "I mean, you do
have a way about you..."
"Okay, this is absolutely ridiculous!" Rochie stressed the
last two words, as would an actress in the spotlight. "You
girls seem to be missing the point completely..."
"What?' Hadassah cut her off. "Are you trying to tell us that
she's the one with the problem and not you?"
"No! It's not that at all! She doesn't have a problem. She's
just..."
"Enigmatically shy?" Hadassah cut in, looking for the graphic
term Rochie might have used to describe the situation.
"I don't think that's it at all!" Rina called out as she made
her way back into the center of the circle. "While you guys
were all arguing over what her problem was, I decided to go
speak to her myself. The true version is that the girl simply
doesn't speak English. She seems to have moved here from some
foreign country."
"But that's exactly what I was trying to get across all
along!" Rochie rolled her eyes.
"Oh, yeah? You sure didn't say so," Chaya remarked.
"That's because you didn't give me a chance!" Rochie
retorted.
Before anyone had a chance to add another word, Shaindy
steered their thoughts in a different direction.
"I wonder if we'll ever get to talk to her."
"Well, what language does she speak?" I piped up, curious.
Foreign languages were right up my alley.
"I'm not quite sure," Rina hesitated. "Languages have never
been my thing, even Hebrew. But her accent sounded heavily
French from what I could make out."
"Hey, I guess there's something good, after all, about their
adding French to our curriculum this year. At least we'll get
to know her name, with time," Shaindy kidded.
"We just might get to know more about her than that, and in a
shorter time, too." All eyes turned to me and I blushed. "I
happen to know some French."
"How's that?" Hadassah turned to me questioningly. "You said
both your parents were originally from New York and that you
didn't learn any foreign languages in your old school!"
"I actually learned it with my friend, just for fun. We
taught ourselves and used it as a sort of secret code, if you
know what I mean. But I really think we should go over and
talk to her. She probably feels very lonely with all of us
standing around and talking, especially about her, while she
sits there all by herself."
"Ugh, I hate having to speak to people through translators.
It feels kind of stupid not to be able to communicate to
someone naturally," someone complained.
"Yeah, but imagine what it feels like not have anyone to talk
to, period. And feeling that people are talking about YOU!
I'm going over to her in any case."
"Don't worry, you can count us all in with you," Rina said
confidently. "Come on girls, let's go."
Rina's word was law. We all made our way over to the back of
the classroom where the girl's desk was situated. "Hear ye,
hear ye!" Rochie called out as the whole procession marched
toward the French girl. "Hear ye to the 9/B's one and only
multilingual simultaneous interpreter."
*
"So how was your first day?" Ma asked me with an anxious
smile as I sat over my traditional after-school snack of
chocolate chip cookies and milk. "Was it as bad as you
predicted?"
"Well, not quite, but if you ever saw that enormous fortress
that serves as a school, you would probably pass out."
Memories of my early morning fears and intimidation suddenly
sprang back into my mind.
Ma clucked her tongue sympathetically. "That bad, eh? And how
were the teachers?"
"Oh, they spoke a mile a minute. Note-taking is not going to
be an easy feat in this school..." I said dryly.
"Don't forget that high school is bound to be different from
elementary school in any case," Ma reminded me wisely. "How
about the girls? What were they like?"
"They were like fifty per class. That's over three times as
many as I had back in Florida."
"Tell me something," Ma leaned forward with a knowing glint
in her eyes. "If it was really that bad, how come your face
seems to have a certain radiance about it? And what about the
smile stretching from ear to ear? Tell me what really
happened today!"
I could hold back no longer. "Oh, Ma, I was never any good at
keeping things from you. I enjoyed every minute at that
place. I think I might even get used to the green uniforms,
some day. And Ma," I added with a twinkle, "I hope it's okay
that I invited someone over for dinner. Her name is Rivka
Gross and she moved here the same day we did." With that, I
proceeded to tell my mother about the exciting day's
events.
*
"It's just all so different here." Rivka was comfortably
perched on my bed, slowly sipping a mug of Ma's reassuringly
delicious hot cocoa. "Sometimes I feel like it's a whole
different world... like another planet or something."
"That's exactly how I felt," I giggled, carefully setting my
own mug down on the dresser. "I liked to think of the whole
school as some huge prison ruled by Martians. I could only
take comfort in the knowledge that I, for one, wasn't green.
I came from the ideal planet -- Earth -- and was the only one
with normal intelligence."
"That's an interesting way of seeing things," Rivka mused. "I
consider myself a stranger in the midst of the resident
citizens. I want so badly to fit in and yet, nobody
understands my language. I am so different, strange, so mixed
up. I don't understand anything that's going on. Of course, I
do have a tutor who's teaching me English, but I have a long
road ahead of me."
"Rivka," I asked curiously, "how come your family came to New
York when none of you speak a word of English?" The girl's
face fell and I regretted having asked what I did. "Oh, I'm
sorry. It really is none of my business. Just ignore me and
my manners."
She waved me off. "It's okay. My father is very sick and
needs extensive treatment. New York has the special doctors
and advanced medical equipment he needs, so we didn't really
have much of a choice."
"Oh, I'm sorry. That must be really tough." The two of us
were silent for a moment, until I said, "You know what I was
saying before about how I considered everyone here aliens? I
now realize that I wasn't really on base."
"What do you mean? Should I or shouldn't I consider myself a
displaced person?"
"Well, what I mean to say is that no Jew is a stranger, or an
alien, or a displaced person in the presence of another Jew.
We're all part of the same nation; we're all sisters. It
doesn't matter that we're strewn across the four corners of
the world. As soon as we reunite, we accept each other
lovingly." She nodded in appreciative agreement.
The tantalizing aroma of sizzling cheese and stewed tomatoes
tossed over freshly cooked pasta wafted into the room all at
once, tickling our noses and beckoning us down to the
kitchen. As the two of us traipsed eagerly down the
staircase, it suddenly became crystal clean to me that every
bit of support I could possibly give would be absolutely
essential.
*
Two years later.
"I met Mrs. Gross at the supermarket today," Ma said as she
passed me the tray of steaming egg rolls. "She let me in on
the big news."
"Yeah, Rivka made the announcement in school today. It evoked
such a mixture of emotions."
"What's the big news?" my kid brother Ari asked.
"Well, Rivka Gross, you know, my French friend, is moving
away." I turned back to my mother. "On the one hand, we're
all so glad that her father is on the way to recovery, but
she's added so much class..." I chuckled at the pun. "She's
really become one of us and we're sure going to miss her. Did
her mother say when they're leaving?"
"No. But do you want to know what she did say? She said I
should give you her most heartfelt thanks and a big hug and
kiss."
"How French! But why on earth? She hardly knows me."
"But she knows that without your support and friendship,
Rivka would never have been as happy and integrated as she
is. You were the only one who could understand her at
first."
"Oh, that. It was just very good luck, or rather,
Hashgocha Protis, that I happened to have taught
myself French."
"I still can't believe that the ridiculous idea you and Ilana
had back in Miami actually led to something productive," Ari
noted. "Who would have dreamed that my big sister's far
fetched notion could ever turn out to be useful?"
"That's enough, Ari." Ma looked at him disapprovingly and
then turned back to me. "But it was more than just the
language. You were one of the few who could really feel for
her. True, your situation was similar to hers in a way and
you could relate to her. But the way you applied your own
feelings shows that you possess remarkable sensitivity
towards others."
My father, who had been following the conversation, pointed
out, "We're very proud of you, Leah, that you care enough to
speak other people's languages, in more ways than one."
Ari rolled his eyes. "Oh, no! Now she's going to get some
more queer ideas. Knowing her, she may run off and learn some
really exotic language. Something like Japanese? Maybe even
Martian... Na, I guess you know that one already."
I smiled mysteriously. Ari had no idea how close he was to
the truth.
