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School Days, School Days, Dear Old Golden Rule Days

Written by Terry Howard

February, 1635, Grantville

It all started on the first day of school. Chaim was in the hallway when he heard a kid say, "Hey, Hans. Look! A Shirley Temple haircut!"

"What are you talkin' about?"

"The banana curls, just Like Shirley Temple on the T.V."

"Red, for an up-timer, you are such a dummy! Don't you know nothing? He's a Jew. Lots of Jews wear ear curls."

"Uh uh. The Abrabanels don't.

"Hey, Shirley, are you a Jew?"

Chaim ignored him.

"Hey dumb ass, you with the curls—"

Chaim didn't answer him.

"Yeah, you're right, Hans. He ain't Shirley Temple. She could talk. This guy can't. He must be Buster Keeton." Chaim heard Hans laugh.

Red continued, "That's the silliest hat I ever saw anyone wear. Are you trying to be funny? Hey, Buster, where's the propeller? Ain't beanies supposed to have propellers?"

Chaim ducked into the classroom thinking that would end it. When he was hurrying back from lunch—he lived close by so he went home instead of bringing a lunch bucket or eating in the cafeteria which wasn't kosher—he heard a loud voice, "Look here comes Buster Keeton with Shirley Temple's banana curls."

The first day of school established an ongoing pattern.

Early Winter, 1635

"Class," Mrs. McDonald, said, "today we have a special treat for you. Mister Wiley has brought his collections of arrowheads and other West Virginia Indian artifacts."

William Wiley gave a solid talk on Indians geared to a fourth grade level. Fragile items were held up for view and the durable stone projectile points were passed up and down the aisles. When he came to his favorite relic, he was ready to wrap up his twenty minute lecture before he started losing his audience.

When William was no older than the children in the class an old-timer gave him a small stone resembling a cat. He told William it was an Indian totem. William was never able to find any supportive references in literature on West Virginia's Indians to confirm it, but he had never stopped believing his primary source.

"This," he said holding it aloft, "is an Indian totem. A totem was a spirit guide. Like the belief in the Great Spirit it helped the Indians live in harmony with nature. They believed the totem would lead, help, and protect them. It was—"

"You mean like Chaim's golem," a young male voice called out. "Chaim says the rabbi in Prague made a statue that came to life and protected the Jews."

William was startled. He knew himself to be an open, accepting, tolerant man, except when it came to blatant stupidity. Like this.

His thoughts flashed back to all of the battles, some loud and sharp others quiet and lingering, he had over the years with his father, Enoch Wiley, the minister of the Free Presbyterian Church. He would have liked to think that if his Father had had a real education instead of some stupid correspondence course, he would have learned better. But he had to admit there were a lot of stupid men out there, some with doctorates in theology, taking advantage of other people's ignorance. How could anyone go through that much schooling with their eyes completely closed?

William blurted out the truth as he saw it. "It didn't happen any more than a totem actually guided the Indians." Realizing he had just put his foot in his mouth, he sought to smooth it over. "All religion is just mankind trying to explain what they don't understand. Then they use it to justify laws they make.

"Like the rule against eating pork. It's obvious to me, and it ought to be plain to anybody who will bother thinking about it, that when the Israelites were superstitious shepherds in the desert where there aren't a lot of pigs around or enough fuel to cook pork well, some of them got sick. That's when they made a rule against eating it. To enforce it, they blamed it on a deity. Now we know you have to cook pork completely so there is no reason to not eat it. But since it is a law of God, they're stuck with it."

The teacher spoke up before William could say another word. He had stopped talking about Indians and started talking about religion. The school board had decided the best way to teach American values was the same way it was done back home, by teaching American history. It did not matter if it was current events here and now or future history of a universe which no longer existed— or, at least, was no longer accessible if it did still exist. It was their history and they should be proud of it. Colonial history should teach the value of representative democracy, and the price of freedom. Indians were part of that history. Perhaps they might get a better deal in this world if what happened in the other world was not forgotten.

But religion was another matter all together. School board policy was more than firm on the topic. It was not to be discussed below the high school level, except very cautiously as history in the most gentle, general, and strictly limited terms. There was no way she was going to let the lecture end in a question and answer session with the topic now involving religion.

"Thank you, Mister Wiley. Class, just as soon as all of our guest's things are passed back to the front, you may go to recess."

****

The trickle of teasing avalanched on the playground.

"See, dweeb!" "Told you the golem was bull!" "Neener, neener, you and your stupid curls."

"Hey, look, it's a spring, boing, boing," Hans said as he batted the bottom of Chaim's ear-lock to an uproar of laughter and giggles. Chaim turned away, red-faced, angry and wishing for a good comeback.

As he walked away, Hans pushed him in the middle of his back. "Get lost, you little creep. Go play with the girls."

By the end of the day, Chaim decided he was never, ever coming back to school.

****

"You must speak to Chaim. He refused to go to school this morning," Rachael said when Yankel got home from work a little early on Tuesday

Yankel looked up from the cup of hot broth his wife set before him. It was a cold winter's day. He had just walked home from work by way of the tanner's to make sure the book bindery would get enough fine-grained leather that looked alike to bind fifty matching copies of the Siddur. He could have ridden the trolley which ran out to the school and right past the house but riding the trolley cost money and the family had better things to do with money than to spend it riding trolleys. "Is he sick? Should we take him to the doctor?"

"No," she replied. "The other boys are teasing him."

Yankel's first thought was to take a belt and teach his son a lesson. How dare he skip school? How many families back home would do anything to give their sons schooling like Grantville's if they knew it existed? This was one of the reasons for accepting the Abrabanels' invitation to come to Grantville and Chaim would not go because he was teased! It was not like he was being robbed or beaten or he might be killed or his sister might be raped. It was only teasing.

Rachel saw his face. "You need to speak to him!" Her voice was firm. "This is not the old country. They do things differently here." She did not remind him of the neighbor, Herr Shultz, who was thrown in jail for beating his wife and children. When he got out he did it again and the children were taken away.

Yankel sighed. Grantville was a marvelous place full of wonders and luxuries beyond belief. But it was a different world with different ways. "I will speak to him when he comes in from playing."

"He is in his room. When he would not go to school I insisted he was sick and must stay in bed."

Yankel smiled. He was a lucky man. His parents had found him a wise wife, whom he loved, respected and admired. "I will speak to him." He stood, lifting his shelchl of soup. Cup, he corrected himself. Think in English, Yankel. If you do not think in English you do not really know it and you need it to get ahead.

****

Chaim was on the top bunk reading. The lower bunk was shared by his two younger brothers who were outside playing. Three of Chaim's four cousins had after school jobs, the other one was likely reading in the library. Yudl seemed determined to read every book there. Yankel looked at his oldest child. They'd named him Abram when he was born. When he was three, he got so sick that they changed his name to Chaim, hoping the angel of death might not find him. Now the boy was ten and he loved to be active. Spending the day in bed was almost torture for him. "Chaim, you didn't go to school today! Why?"

"Mother said I'm sick."

"Which she said when you wouldn't go to school! Why would you not go to school?" The silence lingered. "I'm waiting for an answer, Chaim."

"They tease me! They call my peyot—" He touched his ear-locks. "—banana curls. Only little girls wear banana curls. They call me dumb head for wearing a yarmuka, 'don't you know enough to take your hat off inside?' they ask. They treat me like I'm different!"

"You are different. You are Jewish. Even the Lord treats us differently." Yankel made himself use the English "Lord" instead of the Yiddish Hashem. He would never have used the more formal name, Adonai, except in prayer.

"The Abrabanels do not wear peyot."

"They are Sephardi," Yankel said, not even trying to keep the distain from his voice. The Abrabanels were Sephardic, Spanish, Jews who spoke Ladino. Chaim's family was Ashkenazi, German Jews and spoke Yiddish. The different customs of the Sephardi were, well, different. Yankel didn't care for them at all.

"They are Jews. If they don't have to wear them, why do I?"

"Chaim, it is written, 'Thou shalt not trim the corners of thy beard.'"

"I don't have a beard. Why do I have to have them?"

"Every male in this house has them except your youngest brother, and he will as soon as he has hair."

"The Abrabanels do not. Jews do not have to have them. This is Grantville. Why do we have them?"

Yankel repressed a sigh. How do you explain to a child when "this is just the way things are" does not work? Still one must try. "Chaim, do you remember the movie we saw about Frankenstein's monster?" His son nodded. "What brought it to life?"

"Lightning."

"Which is electricity." Yankel pointed to the light bulb with his chin. The family burned electricity like it was gold. A light was never turned on until you needed it to tell a black thread from a white one at arm's length. Then it was left on only as long as necessary. A lighted room with no one in it just did not exist in Chaim's home. "Where does the electricity come from?"

"The power plant."

"So electricity is power. Now, how do you know an electrician?"

"They wear a hard hat. And they wear an orange vest with pockets for tools. The pole men wear climbing spikes."

"So you can tell a man who works with electrical power by the way he is dressed. Good. And the way he is dressed helps him do the job and helps protect him from harm, this man who is trained to work with power. Now, my son, have you forgotten, in less than three years you will be a man trained to handle power?"

"In three years I will be a man and read Torah in shul."

"Yes! And there is power."

"How?"

"The Torah contains the name of the Lord. There is power in the name. Why else did Jacob ask the name of whom he wrestled and was instead given a blessing? Because, there is power in names. We keep our heads covered because we are under the Lord. We wear peyot and a tallith because, like an orange vest, it tells the world we are men of power."

"It is not the same. Besides, they have priests."

Yankel made a noise of disparagement. "Untrained, or at best half-trained incompetents. Look at the mess they have made of Europe with their war over theology. We have real power!"

"It is not the same."

"Do you remember when you were seven and it was the feast of tabernacles? We were to eat our meals in the succah outside. But it was raining so hard the day Rabbi Elizar was to eat with us that we couldn't."

Chaim's face lit up. It was a story told many times. "Reb Elizar prayed and the rain stopped. He told us to eat quickly. We carried the food out and rushed through the meal. We were barely finished and back inside before all the rain he held back by prayer came down at once."

"As Elijah prayed and there was no rain in the time of Ahab. Then what happened on Mount Carmel? Elijah prayed fire down from heaven to consume the altar he had built. You know the story of Old Ehud who did not have anything to cook for the Sabbath. He prayed. Then he started a fire to boil water so he could let the fire go out after sundown and still cook in case some kind soul who might be bringing him food was running late? What happened?"

"Without fish, there is no Sabbath. A bird lost hold of a fish it was carrying and it fell down the chimney."

"The Lord has given power to the faithful. He calls on us to be obedient. We are to dress differently, eat differently and live differently. The word kadosh, we use it to mean holy, but really, it means separate. The job of a Jew is to make a separation between the sacred and the profane, between the Sabbath and the rest of the week, between kosher food and treif food, and between Jews and non-Jews."

"But Father, they pick on me."

"What happened when the children were teasing Elisha about his bald head?"

"Two she-bears came out of the wilderness and killed them."

"You see? When the time is right, you will see the vengeance of the Lord. Tomorrow you will go to school. You will study hard. One day you will make a business. Then these boy's who tease you will need a job or credit or charity and they will come to you hat in hand. The Lord has promised to bless us, his chosen people. He has given us power. But we must keep his Laws." Yankel thought he had made the point and the discussion was over.

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