Tehilla did not attend her 8th grade graduation ceremony.
Not because she was sick or expelled. No one in her class attended, because there was no ceremony. There was Corona.
Somehow, they survived.
Her initiation into high school wasn’t even through Zoom classes, because the Bais Yaakov schools in Jerusalem learned by telephone only – no computers! What about social life and meeting your new classmates? Despite, or in spite of the Health Authority restrictions, they managed to get together and hang out.
Twelfth grade was tragically interrupted by October 7. Displaced relatives streamed in from the South and then from the North. Casualty numbers rose. They spent as much time baking cookies and challot for the soldiers, tying khaki colored tzitzit, babysitting for the wives of miluimnikim, tutoring English to displaced pupils, and in safe rooms, as they did in their classrooms. Despite the tragic events, they thrived.
Fortunately, the lacuna of formal learning didn’t prevent Tehilla from being accepted into a tough computer programming course after 12th grade. Sometimes life is our best teacher.
The war was unfortunately still in full force, and in addition to the painful military casualties, there were also civilian casualties as Iran and Yemen joined the fray. Tehilla understood that nights of interrupted sleep and scampering into the safe room was a small price to pay compared to the price others paid in the terrible loss of life and limbs.
Nonetheless, she would appreciate a break from her intense studies and sleepless nights. The relief appeared in the form of a close classmate who was getting married. The best part of the simcha was that it was to take place in New York – far away from the war and studies, in a country she had never visited. She and two other classmates gleefully booked airline tickets to New York. Then, as was wont in the spring of 2025, the flight was cancelled.
These girls were used to daily surprises that were always cropping up in their lives. They had learned not to be phased by last minute changes, to be flexible and creative. So they notified their hosts that they would be arriving a few days late, but well in time for the wedding.
They rebooked, this time through Bucharest with a 17-hour layover. B’ezrat Hashem, they would arrive!
I would have given up at this point and stayed put, but I am not a nineteen-year-old teenager. It was an adventure. When they arrived in New York, they went straight to Manhattan to the Hilton Hotel that Tehilla’s brother had graciously booked for them, using points, member’s discounts, etc. They were duly impressed with the enormous skyscrapers and the grandeur of their hotel. Totally exhausted and starving, they dropped their suitcases in their room and headed straight for shopping before the stores closed.
They dragged themselves and their shopping bags back to their hotel and barely managed to shower before they conked out into a deep, deep sleep until SIREN! At first Tehilla didn’t trust her ears, but jumped up in bed as the siren continued. “Khamenei is shooting rockets at us, here, in Manhattan? How does he know where we are? What a chutzpah!” Her groggy friends confirmed her fears and they stumbled out of the room, naively looking for the safe room or bomb shelter.
“Why didn’t we check out where the safe room is before we went to sleep,” they lamented. Tehilla and her friends exited into the posh corridor where they met other guests in their pajamas and nighties in varied states of undress. “Where do we go, where is the safe room?” the girls implored of the bemused guest from the next room. “Take it easy. We just all leave the building and head for the street, “she comforted them.
“Don’t worry, honeys. It’s probably a false alarm. Maybe someone was smoking in bed.” And so it was. Before the drowsy crowd had a chance to exit down to the Manhattan sidewalk at 4:00 in the morning, an announcement confirmed that indeed, it was a false fire alarm.
They bounced back into bed because tomorrow morning they wanted to get up for more shopping, some sightseeing and wedding preparations. They wondered – skyscrapers, huge malls, fancy wedding- but no safe rooms anywhere? How primitive! After all, we Israelis are much more sophisticated…
When they arrived back at Ben-Gurion airport, they were welcomed by a siren and were quickly and efficiently ushered into a safe area. After a hiatus of at least two weeks, the Houthis were back from their vacation, too. So they still hadn’t learned their lesson and hadn’t given up yet?
We, the Jewish People, will certainly not give up. And our wonderfully resilient youth exemplify our eternal values and strengths.
