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7 Nissan 5763 - April 9, 2003 | Mordecai Plaut, director Published Weekly
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Home and Family


Speaking an Alien's Language
by Shira Shatzberg

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Don't think that brands me a quiet, withdrawn loner because this is certainly not the case.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.

 

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