Sammy Klein (not his real name) was the youngest kid in my son Josh’s first grade class. Moving from “pre-first” to first grade was difficult for him. At the beginning of the year Sammy wet his pants almost every afternoon. If his Hebrew studies teacher noticed, he sent Sammy to get his spare clothes, and go change in the bathroom.
This went on for the first couple of weeks. At Back to School Night Sammy’s mom mentioned his problem to the English teacher, Mrs. W. She was a religious Christian, and was the best teacher in the school, maybe even on the planet.
The following day, in the course of their morning studies, Mrs. W. included a short lesson about the human body, including how the urinary system works. She explained that since it was still hot outside, it was very important to drink. However, when your body gives you that very first signal that you need to go to the bathroom, you must pay attention. Right when you feel that feeling, she instructed, raise your hand and ask to go the restroom. Every teacher will allow this, so long as you don’t ask to go every five minutes. She talked about other “hints” our body gives us – we yawn when we are tired. Our stomachs tell us when we are hungry. The kids talked about the wonders of the human body Hashem gave us.
Sammy was never wet again.
* * * * *
Not long ago, my neighbor Chany asked if I could put up two seminary girls, just for sleeping, over Shabbos. A bunch of friends from summer camp were getting together, and she didn’t have room for all of them. My boys were in yeshiva, and my two married daughters were out of the house. I said, “Fine.”
The girls arrived Friday afternoon. They were polite and friendly. One I’ll call “Tall.” She had jet black hair, dark eyes, and deep dimples. Her friend, “Short,” was fair, with long, straight blonde hair, and bold black glasses.
When they left to go to my neighbor’s for dinner, I gave them a key. My husband and I were both tired, and didn’t want them to have to wake us if they came in late. I asked, as I always do with guests, if they wanted me to wake them for shul. They both said yes.
I heard them come in at 1:30 a.m. When I woke them at 8:00, they got up and came with me to shul. Before Mussaf, Short said she wasn’t feeling so well, and she wanted to go back and lie down – her head hurt, and she thought maybe she was dehydrated. I gave her my key, told her to take a drink, and wished her a refuah sheleima.
After davening, I met Esther, one of my married daughters, and her husband Yaakov outside of shul. They were coming to me for lunch. We walked back with Tall. She woke Short, and the two of them left.
My son-in-law asked Esther, “Hey, weren’t those the girls from the park?”
“Oh my goodness!” Esther answered. “Were they the ones with that group of boys and girls drinking?”
“I don’t think those girls would have been drinking,” I said. “They seem like nice girls.”
“Well, that blonde one was drinking for sure,” Yaakov said, “I recognize that hair and those glasses. She took a big, long swig from one of those two-liter bottles of Coke, and the boy next to her said, ‘Hey, maybe you should go easy on that. There’s pretty strong stuff in there.’ She said, ‘Don’t tell me what to do. I’m not a little kid.’”