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August 07, 1987 - Image 49

Resource type:
Text
Publication:
The Detroit Jewish News, 1987-08-07

Disclaimer: Computer generated plain text may have errors. Read more about this.

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the pecking order.
Without any preliminaries,
the rabbi gave me my first
lesson. I timidly entered his
den, aware of the painful
yelps of my predecessors. The
rabbi's strap indicated I
should sit. I sat, very quick-
ly. With a soft sigh, the rabbi
turned the book to page one
and pointed to the first letter
with his lollypop stick.
"Aleph," he said. "Aleph," I
said promptly.
The lesson went well.
Although never a practical
person, I was always good
with books and soon I was
well into aleph, bet, gimmel
and all the alphabet. The rab-
bi gave me a tattered primer
to take home and study. He
didn't need to say anything.
There was an implied threat
that if I was not letter perfect,
the next day, my Papa would
have to say Kaddish over my
remains.
The first day's routine was
repeated on subsequent days.
For hours, I listened through
the partition as the older boys

The rabbi had an
effective teaching
method — a strap
which he used at
the slightest
dereliction or
inattention.

recited by rote. Sometimes,
out of sheer boredom, I would
mouth the words silently
along with them. I had no
idea of the meaning of what
I heard, and neither did the
pupil inside. Later on in life,
much of this knowledge be-
came clear but at the time —
nothing.
At the end of the first week,
Papa gave me 25 cents
wrapped up in enough news-
paper to make a basketball-
sized bundle. This was the
rabbi's weekly fee. Papa was
earning 20 cents an hour
operating a Singer sewing
machine sixty hours a week
so he was providing an educa-
tion at a considerable sac-
rifice, the hallmark of the
Jewish parent.
For his tremendous invest-
ment, Papa was entitled to
quiz me on my pro_gress. I was

proud to recite the whole al-
phabet. Also, I wrote out my
name in Hebrew. Papa could
hardly restrain himself. I was
a scholar!
Where, you may wonder,
was Mama during all of this?
Mama was in the kitchen or
at the market. In those days,
there was man's work and
there was woman's work. Ma-
ma put in her sixteen hours a
day, and the rest of her time
was her own. Papa assumed
the responsibility of overseer
of Hebrew education. He
himself had never been in a
classroom and had never had
any instruction of any kind,
but had somehow absorbed a
working knowledge of
Yiddish.
The second week of Hebrew
school ended. By then, I had
heard the older boys' recita-
tions many, many times. Papa
now had the considerable
sum of 50 cents invested in
me. He was entitled to an ac-
counting. "Nu," he asked in
Yiddish after supper, "what
did you learn this week?"
I went berserk. I raced
through the alphabet, I re-
cited the Four Questions for
Passover; I spoke the prayer
for the drinking of wine. I was
hot as a pistol. Papa beamed.
This was far beyond his wild-
est expectations.
I basked in Papa's ap-
proval. lb further impress
him, I started spouting all the
words I had heard from the
older boys' sessions. Papa
turned pale as I let loose a
torrent of miscellaneous
prayers, speeches, commen-
taries, and I don't know what
else. Papa didn't know what
either. I kept gushing out all
that I had taken in.
After ten minutes Papa was
stunned, and no wonder. I
had gone to Hebrew school
for such a short time and now
the wisdom of the ages was
undoubtedly flowing from my
mouth. At the end of a half
hour, when I had run through
my repertoire twice, _ Papa
suddenly clapped his hand to
his forehead. He had had a
revelation. "He has come," he
shouted to the ceiling, "He
has come and He is my son."
Mama rushed in from the
kitchen, dripping scrub brush
in hand. She demanded an ex-
planation for the shouting:
Did Papa want us to get

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THE DETROIT JEWISH NEWS

49

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