Showing posts with label Yeshivas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Yeshivas. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

The Mrs. Toes The Line (or are we tznius enuogh for you?)



A few weeks ago, a girl who was over at our house remarked to my wife "you're so cool, you wear flip-flops". Mrs. Lakewoodfallingdown took the comment as the compliment it was and life went on as usual. Until... One day this week my 5 year old daughter comes home with a note specifically addressed to the Mrs. Here it is:

I get home from work first. I open the letter and scan it. When the Mrs. Comes home, I ask her if she's been to drop off little-lakewood-falling-down at school while wearing her flip-flops. She doesn't recall one way or the other, so with a grin, I give her the letter. So even with the long sleeves, sheitel and floor sweeper skirts it seems there is a problem. Out of curiosity, I asked my neighbor, Mrs. Gilmour if she got the same letter. If this was a general statement, I'd take it better than a specific letter. Yup. Mrs. Gilmour got one too, and investigated via her friends that also have their daughters in the school. As it turns out, the letter only went to some parents. Like I say, Lakewood is falling down. I will make a point of asking if a woman's ankles are actually considered airvah, and I will follow up with an answer. But it does get better. We went to orientation night and the principal asked the moms not to dress the kids as if they are going to a wedding. School has arts & crafts, she says, so the kids will come home dirty at times (true of any good preschool program). So one mommy (possibly a "Hot Chanie") asks if her daughter can wear a short skirt... I have to give the principal kudos for not rolling her eyes. She gently explained that in school there is davening, parsha, etc.. and that the girls need to learn to dress approriately. I don't know if this mom got a letter home, but hey, she's not as hot as my wife's toes.

BTW- At my son's orientation, the tiny brand spanking new bais yaakov english teacher was saying to all of us parents how derech eretz must come first. I noticed a ripped piece of paper on the seat in front of me (all of us adults were squezed into 4th grade desk-chair combos) numbered 1-100 with one line written over and over - "I will not burp in English class. I will not burp in English class. I will not burp in English class....". I could barely contain my laughter, and of course passed the "note" around. Ah, yeshiva memories, they start so early in life!