Israel Book Shop presents Chapter 16 of a new online serial novel, Nine A.M., by Esther Rapaport. Check back for a new chapter every week. Click here for previous chapters.
Copyright © Israel Bookshop Publications.
On the new board in the classroom:
“Bais Yaakov lechu v’nelchah b’or Hashem.”
“It’s so nice!” Katy beamed, while the girls enthusiastically sang the song that Babbe Sara Liba had taught Naomi.
“My grandmother used to live in Lodz, Poland, before the Nazis came to power,” Naomi said in a whisper when the song came to an end. “She taught there at one of the dozens of Bais Yaakov schools established by Sarah Schenirer, and to this day she hasn’t forgotten how wonderful it was. When I was a little girl, she sang this song to me every night, before I went to sleep. When she was a teenager, she participated in Bais Yaakov training for aliyah to Eretz Yisrael. But in the end she couldn’t go, and she stayed in Poland.”
“And that’s how she was saved, actually,” eleven-year-old Renia Stauber pointed out, and Naomi smiled at her. A few of the students stood on the line that Naomi had drawn in white chalk down the middle of the room, to make it easier to see what the older girls were doing at their desks. On the other side of the room, Mila was playing with the younger children, ignoring what was going on in the small classroom. It was the second day that Naomi had dared clearly announce the opening of the “Bais Yaakov” class, and Mila didn’t say anything anymore, even though more than a third of the girls in the class belonged to Leo Sherer’s group.
“But Mila is very upset about this,” Katy whispered loudly at the end of the lesson. Her voice carried from one side of the room to the other. The children who had gotten up to listen to the story about Bais Yaakov went back to their blocks, and the girls in the class went to play in the area behind their desks. “Yesterday she went to the offices to complain again, but Eva Sherer, Leo’s daughter, told her that they’d heard what she had to say, and they were looking into the situation, and she should stop nudging them already.”
She laughed, loudly as always. “I know everything! Mila also said that she didn’t want me to be the second assistant, but they told her that this is what’s going to be for now. And I’m happy, because I love being here; you’re the best teacher!” Suddenly she paled, fixing a long and confused look at the entrance to the large room. Then she grabbed the broom and ran to the furthermost corner of the kindergarten.
Leo Sherer and his cronies, the members of the camp board, walked right into the classroom. They crossed the white line, even though they did not belong to the Bais Yaakov group, who were the only ones allowed to cross it. A few of the children began to get out of their places, but Mila, with a rapid motion of her hand, had them all sit back down immediately.
Leo Sherer looked around. A smile crossed his face when he saw his grandson Dror sitting and coloring obediently at a low table. The child waved excitedly to his grandfather.
“We understand that a religious class has opened here,” Mr. Sherer said, studying the board and the words there. “Against all the agreements.”
“There are no agreements, Mr. Sherer,” Naomi said quietly. “The only practical thing that was decided after my hearing last week was that another assistant would be joining from the non-religious group: Katy Gross.”
“And what about the status quo that you are constantly violating?” asked Anika, Leo’s oldest daughter.
“I haven’t received any complaints from the parents.” Naomi’s lips were white. What could they do to her? Switch her job? That would make her very happy.
No, that was not entirely accurate, not since she’d grown to love her young charges and their shining eyes. She wouldn’t mind the salary of a different job, of course, but she didn’t want a different job.
Or maybe they’d threaten to fire her completely, without giving her any alternative work?
It was hard to believe that the German supervisors would accept the idea of someone being idle in the camp’s confines.
“We are receiving complaints,” remarked a gray-haired man whose name Naomi did not remember. “The situation cannot continue this way.”
“There will be a clear separation here.” Sherer was decisive and firm. “Because the idea of opening a classroom setting for the big girls who don’t go out to work yet is actually a good one. The boys this age are not spending time playing foolish kindergarten games, so likewise, the girls should acquire some useful knowledge that will help them with their work in the future, too. I spoke to Mr. Wangel today, and he is pleased with the idea. But the studies in the classroom are not supposed to include anything of a religious nature at all.”
“I—”
Leo Sherer raised his hand and stopped her. “Due to the fact that there are parents who are interested in giving their daughters a religious education, those who will sign that they want their daughters to study under you will be able to do so, and you can include study of religion and Torah in that class. But for those who do not want to—you have no permission to teach their daughters anything that has to do with religion. Is that clear?”
“Certainly.”
“We are going to divide the children here into two totally separate groups; there will be two classes. Within a week, I’d like to see a clear list of the division, and there will be no more arguments and disputes in this kindergarten. It will be your job, Miss Schvirtz, to go from house to house and get the parents’ signatures,” he said.
His gaze roved over the play areas, the crafts corner, and the area where the children ate their meals. A proud smile crossed his face when he saw the word “Dror” at the bottom of one of the papers, a scribbled mess of yellow, red, and orange, hanging on the wall.
“Dror, sweetie, your picture is so cute!” Leo gushed, and the child jumped out of his chair and dashed over to his grandfather.
“What did you draw here?”
Naomi held her breath for a moment, but the proud grandfather did not notice the large square letters spelling out dalet, reish, vav, reish, which were swallowed up in the mass of orange scribbles.
“It’s fire, Grandpa!” Dror Elkovitz said, sounding like he thought he was stating the obvious.
“I see. And why did you draw fire?”
“’Cause fire is really pretty!” the boy enthused. “Like Mama every week…” He suddenly fell silent and began nervously scratching his neck.
“Like what?” the older man encouraged Dror to continue. But to everyone’s shock, the child burst into tears and refused to say another word.
His grandfather tried a few different ways to soothe the hysterical child, to little avail. Dror splayed himself out on the floor, kicked his feet petulantly, and screamed, “I don’t want to tell, I don’t want to tell!”
Seeing that they weren’t accomplishing anything, Leo Sherer, along with his entourage, waved and left the room.
Mila turned to Naomi. “It’s hard for me to believe that his mother would say she wants a religious education for her child,” she said. “Even if at home she keeps a bit of tradition, for whatever reason, she’s not going make a public declaration about it. And I want to see which other ones will do it.”
Her eyes narrowed. “But there’s one thing I still don’t understand. Who is going to teach the other group? I mean, I’m certainly not planning on becoming a preschool teacher!”
***
Rechel felt eyes boring into her back as she passed the iron over the puffed sleeves of the white blouse. She turned to the door. “Good afternoon, Hautpmann Katarina,” she said politely.
There was silence in the sewing room.
“You can all continue, it’s alright,” Katarina said as she crossed the threshold into the room. “Can you come outside for a moment, Rechel?”
Binyamin and Naomi’s mother unplugged the iron and followed the commander to the little clearing in front of the sewing workshop. For a moment, they were both quiet.
“Look,” Katarina said, her tone somewhat apologetic. “The truth is that I tried to have your Naomi transferred to a different job. But I saw that the whole story with the preschool, the teacher, and the authorities there has become a burning issue in your offices. Is that right?”
“That’s one of the reasons I want to get Naomi out of there,” Rechel interjected.
“Could be. But because years ago, we absolved ourselves of the handling of these small details, my husband claims that we should continue with that approach, and not interfere.”
Her husband, of course, was Mr. Josef Wangel.
Rechel gaped at the ground in shock.
“What we can do is raise her salary a little bit for being the teacher. Instead of ten marks a week, Naomi will get twelve.” She smiled her regular sour smile and studied Rechel, who was studiously gazing at the weeds growing near her feet. “I hope that’s alright.”
It took Rechel a moment to gather her wits and respond with the requisite good manners. “Thank you very much, Hauptmann Katarina. It…certainly sounds better.” A little less worse, to put it more accurately.
What was twelve marks a week? Gornisht mit gornisht. Those who worked a full week at the sewing workshop earned thirty-five marks! Binyamin got sixty marks for his work! She had no idea how much Elky, Naomi’s friend, made for her office work, and she wouldn’t even think about the Sherer family, whose salaries were one of the biggest secrets in this place.
Katarina’s disappointing response did not leave any place for further deliberations.
Two weeks ago, her mother had spoken to her and her sister Chani. Chani and her husband had deliberated for a full week before responding in the affirmative. Now it was Rechel’s turn to deliberate, but the decision rendered by the camp supervisors would lead her to the only logical decision that remained.
Because it was abundantly clear that now there was no chance for a better shidduch.
***
All the aunts said that Dena’s refined, gentle nature was perfectly suited for the European class and politeness of the Hanter family, but she didn’t feel European in the slightest. Nevertheless, Hashem had sent this shidduch specifically for her.
After their wedding, Dena and Bentzy had traveled once to Vienna. It seemed like a very charming place to tour and visit, if you could put aside for a moment the hostile past of Austria as a whole, and of this city specifically.
It had seemed like Bentzy was settling into Israel very well. In the morning he was in kollel, and in the afternoon he had a job doing computerized proofreading of sta”m. He was good at that. She wondered if such a thing existed in Vienna. Maybe he could find a similar job here? For now, though, it seemed like he was over his head with his father’s business.
“Ima!” Duvi tugged at her sleeve. “Ima, can you play ball with me?”
Dena stood up. “Okay, but just for a few minutes, because we’re going to eat supper soon.”
“What are we having for supper?” he asked loudly. “I hope not Bobby Hanter’s kugel! I don’t like her kugel! I only like yours and Savta Weiss’s!”
“Bobby’s food is very good,” Dena declared quickly, avoiding her mother-in-law’s eyes. The older woman was enjoying watching her grandsons frolic around. “You’re not used to it, that’s all. But a five-year-old boy is big already. You can try to eat things that you’re not so familiar with, and let me tell you what happens; We try and try a new food, and we get used to it, and in the end we see that it can really be very delicious!”
“Like living here,” her mother-in-law suddenly spoke up and said. “You try, you get used to it, and in the end—you see that it’s very delicious.”
“It’s not the ‘living here,’” Dena replied, without thinking. “It’s the fact that life just becomes so completely different…”
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