A small flicker, a smoldering ember. If left unchecked, it can become a raging inferno, consuming everything in its path. Unless someone stands tall and douses the flames. Four tales of courage
When a second girls’ school opened up in our community, the consensus on the street was that this was a positive development. After all, the community was growing, and competition was a good thing, no?
Rumor had it that the administration of the first school didn’t think so, but if they were upset at first, as time went on, the old school’s administration apparently came to a resigned acceptance. Bais Rina was here to stay.
We chose to send our daughter to Bais Rina. We’d heard glowing reports about the principal and the staff. The one drawback was the school’s lack of a building. Even several years after it had opened, the Bais Rina students were still learning in caravans and a rented shul hall. The old school, Moreshes Chana, was also dealing with a lack of space, housed in a dollhouse-sized building, with caravans taking up most of the yard.
That year we were having municipal elections, and, coincidentally, the new community center that had been promised for years suddenly began to materialize. As construction on the sprawling new building progressed, some communal institutions began to set their sights on the old community center.
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