A Class of His Own

Malky: My son is part of the class, and the school should be finding ways to engage him

Mr. Finestone: Your son is one of 30 students, many of whom are struggling, and your expectations are unrealistic

Malky

Slam. Thud. And—

“Maaaaa! I’m not going back to school anymore!”

My heart sank. Ezra was back, and from the sound of it, the promises I’d made while cajoling him to leave in the morning (“I’m sure it’ll be better today — you’ll learn something new and interesting”) were proven wrong. Once again.

Ezra marched into the kitchen, grabbed a handful of pretzels, and slouched on a kitchen chair, scowling. “I already knew everything the teachers taught today. Everything!”

“Everything?” I kept my voice mild. “Even the Gemara?”