Study Session

TEEN STORY

“Ok, who’s coming to me for a history final study party?” hollers Shira as she tosses some popcorn in the air and attempts to catch it with her mouth. She fails. We all groan.

“Shira,” I say, slinging my knapsack over my shoulder and grabbing a stack of books from my desk. “Seriously? History is no party. Look at this.” I hold up the substantial booklet our teacher gave us for review. “We need to focus. Save the party for the last day of school.”

“I’ll come,” announces Miriam. She’s standing in the doorway, sans knapsack. I doubt very much she even took a review booklet.

“Yeah, you know what, Tara’s right,” says Shira. “We really do need to take this test seriously. No party this time.”

I breathe a sigh of relief – FOMO averted – and head to the door.

“Hi Tara, how was your day?” Ma asks the second she hears me walk into the kitchen.

“Fine, Ma,” I say as I pile two pieces of schnitzel on a plate to take to my room. “Sorry, I’m eating in my room tonight. I have a killer history final tomorrow and I can’t waste any time”
Ma sighs. “Ok, good luck. I’m going to a shiur my friend Chavi’s giving tonight, but Abba will be home to watch everyone.”

I make my way to my room with an armful of snacks and a bottle of lemonade balanced on my books. No sooner do I settle on the rug with the first sheet open, when my phone rings.

“Hi Tara!” chirps Huvie. “Want to go over some questions over the phone?”
“Sorry, Huvs,” I say. “I’ll know it best if I just do it on my own. Thanks though.”

I put down the phone and get a full three sheets in before the phone rings again.

“Hi, Tara!” This time it’s Rachel. “Do you know the answer to number 54?”
I give it to her as quickly as I can and hang up before she can ask me to study with her.

Even I am impressed with the amount of material I cover within the next hour. At some point, Ma pokes her head in to tell me she’s leaving. On her way out she wishes me good luck with my studying, but I barely hear her – I’m that absorbed in my notes.

At seven-thirty, I’m taking a three minute break, when Miriam calls.

“Tara, can you give me the answers to numbers 125 to 150?” she asks casually.

“125 to 150?” I echo dumbly.

“Yeah,” she says. “That’s all I have left.”

I try to swallow a wave of irritation. “You know that’s 25 questions,” I point out.

“Um, right,” she says. “Maybe just give me whatever you have time for.”

I give her the answers to ten questions, one eye on the clock. Then I hang up and am just starting to get back to work when the door to my room opens.

“Tara,” announces my little brother Dovid. “I can’t fall asleep. Can I have some water?”

“Dovid,” I say sternly. “You need to knock before you come in. And not really. I’m very busy studying. Where’s Abba?”

“He just put me to bed,” answers Dovid, smiling impishly. “So I thought now it’s your turn.”

“I’m sorry, Dovid,” I say. “I’m very busy studying. I have a big test tomorrow!”

Dovid’s face falls. “Ok.”

He pads down the hall as I lock my door and resolve to ignore the phone.

At eight-o’clock, Abba knocks on my door. “How’s my little studyoholic?” he asks.

“Very funny, Abba,” I say. “You have no idea how crazy this teacher is.” I turn back to my notes to make my point, and he leaves.

Two hours later, I’m testing myself on the World Wars when my mother walks in. “How’s it going?” she asks.

“Ok,” I say. “Almost done.” I flip the page in my booklet, hoping she’ll leave.

“Aren’t you going to ask me about my shiur?” she asks.

“How was your shiur?”  I ask, trying to sound interested.

Ma sighs. “You know, I had finals, too, once. And now I don’t have finals, but I have laundry to fold, and dishes to wash, and work reports to finish. But you know, I went to that shiur because my friend needed me there this time. And now I’m going to sit and talk to Abba so we can enjoy some time together, even though all those things are waiting for me.” She looks at me.” Because my responsibilities are important, but they are not the most important.”

She looks at me.

I think of my near –perfect report card, of my ability to tune everything out while I focus on my notes and absorb the material.

I think of Huvie, and Rachel, and Miriam and Dovid. Of Abba, trying to joke with me while I shut him out. Of Ma, frying my favorite schnitzel and barely getting a hello in return.

I take a deep breath and put down my booklet. “I’m sorry, Ma. How was the shiur?  What did Chavi talk about?”

Ma smiles, and as she tells me all about it, I don’t even glance at the clock once.