Leopard Nails

All eyes turned to Galit, a 17-year-old twelfth-grader standing demonstratively in the entrance of her classroom on the first day of school after the High Holidays. Her entire attitude screamed, “Look at me!” She had decided that the Beis Yaacov dress code was not for her. What’s more, her rebellious appearance was making the statement that the Beis Yaacov Orthodox Jewish Girl’s Seminary was not for her too.

None of the girls or their mothers had painted nails, let alone the leopard-painted nails that Galit now had, obviously the expensive product of the “Nail Factory”, an expensive manicure salon on the side of town where one won’t find other Beis Yaacov girls. Waving demonstratively so that all the other girls could see her leopard nails, Galit strutted into class turning her head from side to side, which caused her six-inch dangling African-hoop earrings to jangle in rhythm with her stride. Most of the other girls in class had pierced ears as well, but in accordance with the dress code, they only wore earrings that were adjacent to their ear lobes. If the nails and the earrings weren’t enough, Galit had defiantly declared her independence by raising the hem of her navy-blue school-uniform skirt a whole eight inches, now well above the top of her knee while she was standing. And to top things off, the top two buttons of her powder-blue Beis Yaacov blouse were open; none of the other girls had a single button opened. Galit was daring the school administration to expel her.

The girls in the class were dumbstruck, reacting with a mixture of horror and excited anticipation. What got into Galit? She was never one of the “righteous” girls in the class, but she wasn’t a troublemaker either. Apparently, she had spent a week with her much more liberal cousins out in Long Island, whose Succa was on the manicured lawn near their swimming pool. They seemed to be enjoying life much more, with far fewer restrictions. On the outside, the grass always looks greener…

Prudently, Galit’s teacher didn’t say a word. She walked across the hall and whispered something in the principal’s ear. Returning to her class, the teacher quietly asked Galit to escort her to the principal’s office. The class was electrified. None of the girls had ever seen such an open and brazen demonstration of defiance.

* * *

The principal, or menahelet, was a brilliant woman in her late fifties, an educator with nearly four decades of experience. She could evaluate a young lady almost instantaneously. “Galit, what’s bothering you? You are a bright young lady, and you don’t need me to tell you that you’ve trampled so many school regulations in one fell swoop.”

Slouching in her chair with a look of mixed boredom and pouting on her face, Galit declared, “I don’t care about learning Isaiah and Jeremiah anymore. And Halacha puts me to sleep. I want to have a good time. I need some freedom. I don’t want to be in school anymore, and especially here. There are plenty of great jobs selling clothes in one of the local malls. I want to make money, to look good, to have a good time, and to do what I want when I want!”

“Galit, you’re not new here; you know that I’m always available for consultation. Why didn’t you sit down with me and discuss your desire to leave school? I won’t stand in your way – I just want you to consider all the ramifications of your decision.”

“What are ramifications?”

“The word means consequences,” the menahelet answered patiently. “Once you become a salesperson, you are no longer a Beis Yaacov girl. You will be a girl in the public domain, exposed to the vulgarities of the public domain.”

“What do you mean, ‘vulgarities’?”

“Look, a young man in a mall doesn’t exactly speak like a young man in yeshiva. The Gemara teaches that your soul mate was already determined forty days before your soul came down to this world. He is not only your husband-to-be, no matter what, but he is also the other half of your soul,” explained the menahelet.

“So what do I care?” shrugged Galit.

“The moment you walk out of this school, your soul-mate will close his Gemara and walk out of his yeshiva. Just as you will be a young lady of the public domain, he will be a young man of the public domain. Just as you will be speaking to and associating with other boys, he will be speaking to and associating with other girls. You will end up marrying him, for Hashem has already determined that. But, you’ll be getting a much different person than a refined Torah scholar. If you’re a mall girl, he’ll be a mall guy. If you go down, he goes down with you. If you go up, Galit, then Hashem will make sure that your bashert (intended match) goes up with you. Just remember, boys in malls look at all the girls and talk to them too. If you marry a mall guy, you won’t be the only female image that’s engraved on his heart and mind. It’s up to you. If you want to leave school, I won’t stand in your way. I’ll always pray for your success and happiness. But, think about the type of husband you want. I suggest that you weigh your decision – go home and sleep on it. If you decide to return to school tomorrow – dressed as you should be – we’ll be delighted to have you back.” The menahelet then hugged Galit, blessed her and escorted her arm-in-arm to the front entrance gate of the school.

The next morning, Galit returned to school, but without the leopard nails. Her blouse was buttoned at the neck and her skirt reached below her knee. She wore a pair of diamond-chip gold-post earrings. She no longer had any trace of chutzpa or rebellion in her bearing.

Thanks to the menahelet’s patience and understanding, Galit graduated. She married a wonderful young man who overcame a similar crisis to become one of the most earnest students in his yeshiva.

We don’t have to force our children. With proper parental example and by giving them the necessary tools to make responsible decisions, they flower. Patience and understanding are the key words. If we rejoice in our service of Hashem, so will they. May we all have much joy from our offspring, amen!