Ditching Shmoozes

This past shabbos was about as eventful as shabbos gets at wits. Well, maybe that's not true. I'll have to think about that one for awhile. But there were definitely events that transpired yesterday. Let's see how good a job I do recapping them. I made an early kiddush with the Sholach Manos grape juice, which I don't think even made a difference, since I finished eating about the same time as everyone else anyways. It's all in the head, I guess. I proceeded to actually learn at morning seder, since my chavrusa was away at his brother's ufruf (or however you spell that) and someone else's chavrusa was also gone. We learned better than I think I've learned at night seder all year, and I like to see if I can make the change permanent. The revealing thing about this little experience was that I actually found out that I can learn if paired with the right person. Whether or not this puts Bais Medrash back on the map for me next year is still an item of discussion, but I feel closer than I did two days ago (also to be discussed- whether that's a good thing.)
I also went for a walk with some friends, since it was the first good day outside in weeks. It's always good to get out of that building. Some weeks I barely get out at all, since the only real place to go is CVS, where everything is overpriced and/or useless.
After Shalosh Seudos, while I didn't make a point of ditching the shmooz (the optional-unless-you-don't-want-to-go style mussar speech before maariv), I ended up ditching it, since I missed the first 20 minutes of it in the bathroom, and didn't want to come in that late. So I sat up by the dorms reading the paper, waiting for it to be over. One of the rabbeim (the 9th grade rebbi, usually in charge of getting people to go) came up at some point to find people who were ditching, and found me, planted on a chair reading the paper quite comfortably by the main staircase. At first I figured he was going to come over, and ask me why I didn't go and stuff, but instead he just looked at me for a second, shook his head, and walked on into the dorm rooms. About ten seconds later, I got up and left.
After Maariv, while everyone was being forced to clean off all the tables in the Bais Medrash (a bris was going to be there the next morning) this rabbi tried to get a hold of me, and said quietly (pointless, in a room with that much noise), "I think we need to talk."
I didn't even have time to respond, because a second later another rebbi asked me why I was standing around and not clearing tables, and the next second a guy came over to me with my gemorah, and told me to put it away. I figured I lost the rebbe in the confusion (it was crowded in there) and headed down the back stairway to the lockers. As I got to the bottom of the stairway and was about to head to the lockers, that rebbe yelled my name from the top of the staircase. I braced myself for the mussar shmooz I'd missed about a half hour earlier, but he started differently than I expected. He told me he hoped I didn't look at him as a bad guy, and was trying to tell me that he's on my side and stuff. Things I took for granted, although most people in my class really don't. I've never had anything personal against the rabbeim, and most of the time, I haven't about anything they do either. He told me he remembered me in 9th grade as a student of promise and that I never gave him any reason to think I would be headed for trouble, but since I'm in 12th grade now, he really has nothing to do with me anymore (this particular rebbi doesn't teach the 12th grade anything) and he said he was worried that I may be slipping off, what with me ditching shmoozes and everything. Admittedly, this was not the first time he had caught me ditching the shmooz within recent memory, and last time things were a little more intense (he wanted to know where I was when he came through getting people, and I was hesitant to admit that I had hid under a table). He told me he was worried that maybe this went deeper than just ditching shmoozes, and wanted to know how I was doing. He asked if I was learning in shiur. Yes, I'm learning in shiur, I told him, thinking about the words as I said them. At least, now I was. Last quarter, not so much. He seemed genuinenly concerned about how I've been doing frum-wise (have I been davening, learning, etc.) something I haven't heard for a long time, or ever, because no one's ever had any cause to worry about that kind of stuff with me. Suddenly I had a flash from last year, when I was paired up with some of the worst kids in my class. I remembered Kovi reminding me to make sure that they didn't have a bad influence on me. At the time, I laughed on the inside, so sure of myself. Instead, I thought about the hard task of turning them around. Now that I thought about it, I had to consider the possibility that that was a warning that should have been heeded a little more carefully. This year again I have been paired up with some people who are not exactly known for their frumkeit. I've even come to suspect that the administration has been doing this so I would be a good influence on these people. But now I have to wonder if I have become what I was supposed to be a good influence on over a year ago. Rabbeim have always looked at me as one of the top in the class, as someone who would never skip a mincha, or sleep in the middle of shiur, even though that's what two out of three of my roommates do. And yet these are things that I find myself doing these days. My one other roommate, the last of the three from the beginning of last year, is the only one in my room now who consistantly goes to every tfilla on time, and tries to force us to do the same. Now it seems I'm the one who needs to be influenced. Seems like I've failed the mission that was never even officially given to me.
This was all going through my head while this rabbi spoke to me in the back stairwell of the bais medrash. It also lead me to think about where things are going to go in the future. I thought about what my already-in-motion plans for next year entailed. College, part time learning in the morning. New York. Working on commercials for a friend of my father's as a video editor. Where did this all fall in the grand scheme of things? Was I going to wind up sending back reports next year about the new girl I'm dating and what party I got smashed at this week? Am I going to become everything these rabbeim have spent the last four years trying to steer me away from? If I'm going to shape up, now is the time to do it, I thought to myself.
The rabbi was still talking. I had lost track of what exactly he was saying now, but the general line was that it wasn't worth risking my frumkeit by turning rabbeim into people who need to hunt me down, and turning shmoozes into things that were to be avoided at all costs. Because doing these things start you down a road you don't want to go on. I listened to him until the ended, and nodded where I was supposed to, already having made up my mind. This rabbi may not have convinced me of anything himself, but he got me to convince myself of what I need to do. "It won't be a problem again" I assured him when he seemed finished. He looked at me skeptically, as if he'd heard that one a million times, which he probably has. He let me go then, adding to finish that he never saw me to be the kind of person to have these problems, or have any reason to doubt me. Words of encouragment that I guess I needed. I remembered to thank him for talking to me on his way out the door, for which he said a rushed "you're welcome" as he headed out. He probably knows exactly how much this ten minute talk accomplished, although he doesn't really show it.
Where is this going to lead? I really don't know, to be honest. I still don't think I want to spend a full year in a bais medrash, or in Israel whooping it up with "kosher yet banned" concerts, girlfriends, and drinks. And while it seems there is now reason to be concerned with the influences I will surely find in YU, I still think I can pull it off still davening with a minyan three times a day when I graduate. Although I'm sure I thought that at the beginning of last year also. Am I going to "ditch the shmooze" next year also, or am I going to take the seat I had a year and a half ago?


Today I wore my tzitzis out. And to be honest, I don't even know why.