A Deposit for a Lifetime

I nervously waited for Rebbi to give back our tests. We all loved Rabbi Sroy Levitansky’s fourth grade class; with his great stories and candy treats, he always made the learning enjoyable. And though we generally did well on his Chumash tests, this one was a bit harder than usual. Rabbi Levitansky handed me my test paper, and I held it close to my shirt so no one would see the horrible grade I’d anticipated.

My fears were well-founded. I had gotten a 65.

I blinked back my tears so no one would know how upset I was — I didn’t want them to figure out why. I refused to reveal my grade to anyone. Instead, I crumpled the offending paper and stuffed it deep inside my knapsack, in the pocket I cleaned out only once a year, zipped it shut, and hoped it would be forever forgotten.

Alas, my hopes were short-lived. A voice reached me from the front of the classroom: “Tzaddik, make sure you get that paper signed.”