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Finding the Spark

I have to say that being a boy can look like fun especially if you’re a girl like my sisters, who are stuck in pleated skirts and weird headbands with nary a football in sight. I mean, we get to run around in comfortable clothes (after school, at least) and play ball just about every free second when the weather’s nice, and we never just sit around and talk like my sisters and their friends.

But it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.

Granted, there’s nothing like that feeling of scoring a touchdown. But if you’re not a boy, you don’t get what it’s like to have to sit over a Gemara for hours a day and then take a bunch of tests on it, which you will do poorly on, since you have no idea what’s being discussed. Then you have to come home and see that look on your parents’ faces when you know that you’ve let them down. Again.

You don’t know what it’s like, and so you don’t realize how not fun it is to walk in from school at the end of the day and be greeted by all that disappointment.

Here’s what I mean.

Exhibit A: (Last night)

Mom: “Hi Chaim! How was school?”

Me: “Fine.”

We’ve been having that exact exchange for at least 10 years now.

Mom: “How was your Gemara test?”

Me: “Fine…I guess.”

Mom: (Face falls.) “Oh, Chaim, did you study?”

Me: Silence

Now here’s what’s wrong with that little exchange. Mom, as usual, was right. I didn’t study. But do you know why? It’s because I felt it’s not worth the effort; I usually don’t do well, anyway. And then to make it worse, after all that hard work, I have to look at a wall plastered with all my siblings’ tests papers proudly displaying scores of 90’s and 100’s mocking me. My parents must be so disappointed in me.

So why bother?

So today in yeshivah I had a nice little conversation with my rebbi. Actually, it was a one-sided conversation, if you know what I mean. Not my idea, of course, but he came over to me and started talking. And I had no choice but to listen.

He said, “Chaim, I’m tearing up your test.”

And I thought, Oh, no. What did I do this time? I started thinking hard. Did I talk during the test? Did he catch me trying to peek at someone’s paper?

“I’m tearing up your test,” he continued, “because I don’t think it is necessary for you to see your grade.

I’m sure you know you didn’t do well, but I’m not going to count this test, or the last one. I’m going to make you a deal.”

I won’t drag you through the whole conversation, but basically, my rebbi started talking about how I need to feel a spark when it comes to learning, and that Gemara speaks to the neshama. And that if I really pay attention and get into it, it’ll be interesting to me and then it’ll be easier for me to “apply myself.”

I was thinking blah blah, because he doesn’t know that I have no chance of doing well.

But then he started talking about how Shavuos is next week and that if I agree to learn in the shul with him Shavuos night for at least an hour, he’ll tear up this test and the last test and count both of them as 100. Because that’s how strongly he feels about me giving learning a good shot.

I can’t say I was enchanted, but I did think for a second how nice it would be to have two perfect scores counted in my abysmal average. I also imagined the look of pride on my parents’ faces when I tell them I’m going to learn with my rebbi and it’ll result in great marks.

So I agreed.

What choice did I have?

I had to agree.

I have to say, I’ve been thinking about it. I don’t really think I’ll feel anything, because I know myself better than my rebbi does. But I also am thinking about the

fact that my rebbi is willing to give up two hours of his Shavuos night to learn with one of his students.

He must really believe in me.

And for once, I don’t want to disappoint him, either.

So, next week, I’ll be going to shul to meet my rebbi. I’m not wait

ng for magic. I don’t know if there really are any sparks in those black-and- white pages.

But I’ll give it a shot.

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