Oy to the World
Written By Karen Bender
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I was about to get into a doomed theological battle when Robert broke in: "Jonah, I know that you may want to be like the other kids. But it's okay to be a little different. We're all a little different."
It was my husband's finest moment. He was right. Jonah might be Jewish, but in his class Diana was a lefty, Horatio spoke only Portuguese, and Jonathan was 6 years old and already 5 feet tall.
"He's gigantic!" said Jonah.
"There you go," said Robert.
"Alec's from Paraguay!"
"See?" said Robert. "No one's quite like anyone else."
In late November the public school curriculum included a Winter Festival, which revolved around reindeer, Santa, and elves. I joined a small battalion of mothers from our temple, unofficial sentries for Hanukkah. One mother brought a frying pan into her daughter's school and made latkes as she told the story of Hanukkah. I brought dreidels and bags of chocolate gelt for Jonah's class. "There was this temple," I started to tell them, uninspired and nervous. The kids started to fidget.
Suddenly Jonah was standing beside me with pertinent (if factually debatable) points about the battle: "There were 49 Maccabees and 100 Greeks, but the Maccabees still won." We passed around a couple of menorahs, including one that he had made. "You put the candles here," he said.
By now the kids were all crowding around to see, forcing the teacher to chide, "Down in front!" We divided the kids into groups to play dreidel. "Jonah," I said, "show your friends how." He nodded, wearing a noble expression. Now he was Dreidel Counselor.
I felt my worry melt. Jonah knew something that he could share with his classmates. He could explain another way of being in the world. "Thank you, Jonah," the kids chimed at the end of class. He smiled, and ate a piece of chocolate gelt.
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