School Crossing

This is not the first time I have lived in the New York metropolitan area.

In fact, I was conceived in the New York metropolitan area.

I know, TMI.

Sorry.

When I was a sophomore in high school, in San Diego, my father took a once-in-a-lifetime job in the Big Apple.

So we moved from "America's Finest City" to the home of Mr. Richard Feder.

Fort Lee, New Jersey.

Fort Lee is located right across the George Washington Bridge.

Right across from The Bronx, one of the five boroughs of New York City.

From our apartment window we were able to see the Empire State Building.

But we were still far enough away to avoid the mayhem of Manhattan.

The move for me carried all sorts of emotions.

Moving to the big city was very exciting.

My dad working for the New York Yankees was amazing.

But the transition from one school to another, one coast to another, was downright scary.

That wasn’t my first school change.

In fact, it wasn’t even my first school change that year.

Just six months earlier, after graduating from an all-day, private, orthodox, hebrew day school with seven other classmates, I headed to a public high school.

With three thousand students.

Talk about culture shock.

But at least that move was in the same city.

Living in the same house.

The same won’t be the case for my three kids.

Their upcoming school change, IF we ever sell the house, will take them from one side of the country to the other.

Just like my move to New Joisey 28 years ago.

I think I am better for it.

At least most of it.

But it wasn’t easy.

My first day at Fort Lee High School was quite an eventful one.

Early in the day, I was headed to my P.E. class in the gym, when I accidentally walked into the Girls Locker Room.

Now if you'll notice, I did not put accidentally in quotes.

And that's because it really was an accident.

Even though all of the Jersey kids thought it was a prank by the pervy new kid from California.

I eventually made it to the gym for a class I would never forget.

At some point during that period, one of my new classmates "introduced" himself.

Notice the quotes.

It actually wasn't much of an introduction, but more of an education.

He came up right behind me and whispered, "name the five boroughs of New York by tomorrow or I will kill you."

That sure was a funny way to welcome me.

The fact that I am writing this blog today, either means I learned the five boroughs or he was a liar.

The correct answer was B.

I could probably figure out the boroughs today, but I definitely didn't know them then.

Fort Lee was quite the experience for me, especially coming from laid back California.

I got to meet all sorts of new people, experience a new type of culture and learn a brand new language -- New Yorkish.

I think it was day two or three when two of my new buddies came up during a break and asked if I wanted to go outside and "smoke a bowl."

Smoke a bowl?

I figured out the smoke part pretty quickly, but this “bowl” thing was something I had never heard of.

Call me naive....  call me crazy...  call me anything you want, but as a 14-year old kid fresh out of all-day hebrew school, somehow I had never been introduced to that term.

So when the cool Jersey guys asked me again, I did what any SoCal kid living in a hostile environment would do.

I giggled. 

Several times.

They asked me again.

And I giggled again.

If my recollection is correct, the conversation went on for about 97 hours.

At least that’s what it felt like.

Pretty simple formula it was.

They asked.  I giggled.  Rinse and repeat.

But somehow my giggling must’ve been an endearing quality because when the conversation ended, without any smoking or any bowls, one of the guys gave me an offer I could not refuse.

"If anyone gives you a hard time, just punch them in the face."

"What???!!!!" 

I shouted.

Silently.

In my head.

I thought, “I'm from California, we don't punch.”

We sue.

And so began my new life.

My kids have so much to look forward to.