By Sofia Mesh for KidSpirit's Society and the Individual Issue.
My first day of Hebrew school was very eventful, to say the least.
I begged my father not to take me because I had heard horror stories from my sister, who had been in Hebrew school for two years already. She told me about the packets and packets of Hebrew writing and reading I would have to do. More work, I thought; third grade was already stressful enough! My dad dragged me into school/temple by the wrist while tears streamed down my face. I thought the tears might persuade him to take me home, but to no avail. We went to the sixth floor, down a long hall, and into room three. The tantrum I threw beforehand meant I got to Hebrew school 45 minutes late and missed all the packet work, but I was in time for the hour-long Judaic Studies session with my teacher, Sara.