The ‘Not Accepting Students Into Schools’ Issue Needs To Change

 

This year 65 girls were not accepted to high school. It was only 3 years ago that I was one of those “unlucky” ones who didn’t get accepted anywhere. As my friends and neighbors began to talk about where they chose to go and which friends they’d be together with, I felt embarrassed, sad, and very afraid.

My parents supported me constantly by telling me how amazing I was and that not getting accepted had nothing to do with who I was or who I wasn’t. I lay awake at night worrying whether any school would ever change their mind about wanting to accept me.

I struggled academically but I had worked hard and had gotten good grades, albeit with modified tests. I was kind, caring and always followed the rules never causing any problems. I had thought that I was liked by my friends. But suddenly I began to question everything about myself. Maybe it was my personality.. ? Did the girls not like me? Was I different? I guess I just wasn’t enough.

Graduation came and went and as all my classmates walked up proudly to accept their diplomas, I walked up feeling embarrassed and unworthy knowing that I had nowhere to go next year. After the ceremony, I walked around the room with my mother and grandmother talking with friends and family. Many of them asked me where I planned to go for high school. I wanted to sink through the floor. I tried to leave as fast as possible but of course my mother wanted to go thank my principal and teachers, so I walked around with my heart pounding hoping that no one would ask me that horrible question again.

In the meantime my parents made phone call after phone call as well as ran from vaad member to principal to school owner. No one seemed to be able to do anything. There wasn’t a place for me. They didn’t want me. I cried myself to sleep night after night. The jealousy, the fear, the sadness.. it was so overwhelming.

I’m not sure how I pulled through that summer. I went to sleepaway camp not knowing what my future held. Every day I listened with a pit in my stomach as the girls discussed how nervous they were to have so many teachers, which uniform was the nicest, and which knapsack was the best choice. Each time school was mentioned, my heart felt like it was stabbed again and again. I returned from camp feeling empty and hollow. While everyone began packing school supplies and shopping for uniforms, I sat at home listening from the next room as my mother made call after call. I wasn’t supposed to know. I wasn’t supposed to hear. But again and again she locked herself in a room and ran anxiously to get the phone when it rang. What is so wrong with me I wondered. I felt so unwanted and alone.

The day before school began, my mother came into my room and sat down on my bed with a smile. She looked worn out and exhausted. “Mazal tov, “ she said. “You’re gonna be going to Bais Yaakov Pninim (name has been changed). I’d never heard of the school. It was new. And I knew no one going. I began to sob. My mother hugged me and cried with me. The pent up emotions ran wild. Two hours later I had dried my tears and we went to get a uniform, supplies and a knapsack. I was worn out from this war and I had no strength left to fight.

It’s three years later now and bh I have found my place slowly but surely. I have made some new friends and the teachers are nice. But I am deeply scarred by what I have been through. There is a place deep within that still feels unworthy and unwanted. I am angry at the teachers and the principals and I am angry at the rabbanim for allowing this to happen and for not standing up to change the system.

When I sit in class and the teachers speak about middos, about caring, about saving another from embarrassment and about rebuilding the bais hamikdash with love and acceptance, I roll my eyes inwardly. I have slowly accepted that Hashem has a reason for what He did and I have rebuilt my connection with him. But I am still resentful to all those who sat quietly and allowed this to happen. If we stand for Torah, then how can we let this continue on? Each one of us will be asked when it is our time to face the Ribono Shel Olam, why were you quiet when you knew others were being pained and embarrassed? What did you do to protect these hailege yidishe neshamos of these beautiful precious bais yaakov girls, the mothers of the future generation and hopefully moshiach.. and I’m not sure that most of you will have an answer.