We made it into the news.....

A Slice of Life
Thanks for the Memories
by Rivkah Couch
When I walked into Beth Rivkah Girls High School in Crown Heights, Brooklyn, on the afternoon of my first day teaching twelfth grade history, my stomach was in so many knots I could hardly climb up the stairs. Girls seemed to swarm like honeybees, some finishing lunch on the run, many clustered together singing, and others clumped together comparing schedules.
It seemed that every brick and every bit of mortar in that old building was straining to contain the energy it held inside. Girls continued streaming in from the front doors, from the cafeteria, from every level of the school. I fought through the crowd, trying to smile despite my nervousness at the countless pairs of curious eyes checking out the new teacher. Squeezing my way into the office, I found my crisp new punch card and checked in. The adult faces of the office staff seemed to drown in the waves of girls in green and white. I grabbed some sticks of chalk and set out to find my class.
Each day teaching got easier, though not in a way that might first come to mind. The work load grew every day, and the hours I spent preparing stretched later and later. I learned over time what the students needed, and though I am certain I made mistakes, I struggled to discover what I had to do in order to assure that every one of the students learned the material, did well in the class and passed the New York State Regents exam. Some girls were too hard on themselves; some were not taking themselves seriously enough. Some needed to read, others needed to hear and see. But what every student needed - in fact, what every human needs - is to feel that they matter. I put myself totally into the job and the only reward I expected was for them to pass the "regents." I had no idea how much more I was to receive.
About three quarters of the way through the year, I became engaged. After returning from the "Ohel," the resting place of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, where my fiance and I had asked the Rebbe for his blessing for our engagement, I began calling every friend and family member in my phone book. When my roommate, Faiga, went to buy some refreshments in the local ice cream/candy store, high school girls overheard my name as the bride in question. Unbeknownst to me, they immediately set to spreading the word.
I returned to school, unaware that my students knew I had become engaged. I walked up the stairs on Monday, lesson plans in hand. A few of the other teachers smiled knowingly at me, but I kept quiet. When I walked into class, I found four classes of girls crammed in, the desks pushed aside, and food and drinks on my desk. The girls burst into song, screams echoing down the hall. At first I thought about calming them down - I had lessons, the other teachers had lessons, and we were headed into the homestretch towards graduation. Every effort was futile, and with permission from the principal and with the recognition that the girls were in charge this time, I sat with them in a circle on the floor and we spent the time singing, laughing, and having much more fun than we would have had learning about the Kennedy administration.
A word of explanation about my background at this point definitely adds to this story. I am a convert from a small town in Ohio and my husband is a convert as well. Though our families were planning to contribute to our wedding, the cost of a kosher wedding and setting up a kosher home is much more than they were able to afford. I had no idea how we were going to pay for everything, but June was a ways off, and I thought that by the time of the wedding, those concerns would be put to rest.
One evening, about two months after becoming engaged, a friend begged me to walk with her to a house near Beth Rivkah. She was nervous about walking alone at night. As we were walking she told me that she needed to give something to a friend who was at an engagement party at the school. I was getting suspicious. We walked into the cafeteria, and I was greeted by all four classes of my students, as well as fellow teachers. Even the principal was in attendance!
I was caught in a swirl of girls. We danced and sang and more friends and students filtered in. They had set up table after table of food, much homemade by themselves or their mothers. They had fundraised and had contacted charities for brides, and they had gone shopping. Everything I needed to set up my home was carefully and expertly wrapped and placed on tables draped with elegant tablecloths. They had even written a skit in my honor. After the party was over, one of the students organizers came to me with an envelope. It was the remainder of the money that they had pulled together but hadn't spent.
There was still another surprise in store for me, though. At my wedding, after the chupa and the dinner, 110 seniors and a few others girls from younger grades flooded into the hall, filling the dance floor, lifting me in a chair, swirling me around, grabbing my shy family and dancing with them, as well. The girls didn't leave until the band packed up. I left thinking that I must concentrate on remembering every unforgettable moment.
I live in Ohio now, with my husband and son. And I still haven't thrown out my grade book filled with the names of those unforgettable girls.
We live in a time when we are obligated to point out to others the good things that surround us. All too often, I have heard people complain about today's young people. I wanted to share the positivity and hope I experienced at Beth Rivkah High School and to say thank you again to those involved. As a final note, I did get my original wish - every girl passed her Regents Exam.