During the Passover festivities, a couple from the nearby town of Wizna came to town for a brief visit. The husband, about Father's age, was the rector of a small Jewish Religious Seminary, called in Hebrew, Yeshiva, in that town, and during their visit, they came over to see Father and meet the moome.

When I was introduced to the man, he asked Father where I was studying. Father answered somewhat evasively that I was attending Reb Berl's cheder. The gentleman seemed interested and asked Father whether he was planning to send me to the Yeshiva. Reluctantly, Father explained that I was also attending school. "Why," he asked, "do you mention his going to school? All cheder boys have to attend school, but thank God, they learn so little there."

He was startled to hear about, my regular school attendance and that I was due to graduate in two months. "Unbelievable," he kept repeating. "It's sacrilege!"

The next day, he cane over again. This time, he and Father closeted themselves in the drawing room, and after he left, Father asked me whether I'd like to study in Wizna. I realized at once that studying in Wizna didn't mean attending the Gymnasia. it was a small town, and furthermore, there was but one gymnasia in the whole province, in Lomza, the provincial capital. Sadly, I answered with a question. "What about my school work? What about my graduation in June?" Father replied that he would speak to Pan Zaleski.

"You must realize," he said, "that if you continue with school to the end of the term it will be too late to enroll you in the Yeshiva for the Spring-Summer semester."

What about my dreams for a higher education? How often I had been thinking about entering the Gymnasia! How I loved to dream about my studying there! It was very sad news. It was then mid-April, and I had been dreaming about my graduation. Now, I should not be allowed the privilege of enjoying the thrill of participating in the graduation exercises.

Finally my Father reminded me that I hadn't answered him. Collecting my courage, I told him that I had other hopes. "Other hopes?" He repeated my answer in a tone that indicated more than mere curiosity and asked, "What were your hopes?" For a while, I stood before him, looking down at the floor in silence, but again, he reminded me that I hadn't answered his question.

With my eyes still fixed on the floor in front of me, I told him that I had hoped I would be permitted to continue with my education. "You mean secular education? And what would that lead to?" he asked. I told him that my ambition was to be well educated. "And perhaps become a professor?" he interjected. He was being ironical, but I didn't know then the difference between a proveesor (pharmacist) and a professor, and I answered, "Why not? It only takes six years; four years at the Gymnasia and two years at the Pharmaceutical College." Staring at me, he replied, "It takes longer than that, more than six years. Besides, that is no profession for a Jew. I shall discuss the matter of your graduation with Pan Zaleski and then reach a decision." I felt miserable; I sensed what would happen.

Pan Zaleski assured my lather that I had already qualified for graduation and could net my certificate whether I completed the term of not. Pan Zaleski told me the next morning that he had tried to persuade Father against sending me to the Yeshiva. But it was no use. Less than a week after the Passover festivities I left for Wizna and entered the Yeshiva there.

The rector and his wife welcomed me into their modest home. I was treated like one of the family, but with somewhat more consideration. The regimen was, to me, rigid and severe, and I found it difficult to adjust myself; strict discipline was maintained in both home and the Yeshiva and the least deviation from the promulgated rules and cannons was subject to punishment. The worst punishment was the sending of a report of the breach of discipline to the boy's father, urging him to punish his son by withholding from him a month's pittance or less, defending on the degree of the offense.

The rector used a different strategy with me. He would often sneak to me, imploring me not to disappoint Father and him. "You must learn to behave better and apply yourself more to your studies." He was a tall man, thin, dark complexioned, with an oval head and face, a short black beard with some gray hair in it, and long curled side-locks ("peyot"). He was a vigorous man and very devout. He spoke with an unbounded enthusiasm for the Talmud.

The faculty of the Yeshiva consisted of himself and the Rabbi of the town. During his weekly lecture to the student body, usually on Sunday, he expounded some philosophical proposition from several points of view and urged the students to choose one of them and even offer an original interpretation, "provided you can defend it with sense (logic)."

During his discourse he was most impressive. To many of us, he took on the appearance of a Biblical prophet or ancient sage. There was a noticeable contrast between his personality and that of the town's rabbi, who also lectured to us. The rabbi's manner was purely intellectual. He was perfectly calm, thorough in his explanations, and appealed to the pupil's reasoning power and faculty, but evoked no enthusiasm.

Being below thirteen years of age, I was required to attend school along with the other boys, two one hour sessions weekly. The teacher war an elderly gentleman. Unlike Pan Zaleski, who was Polish and spoke Polish to his pupils, as well as in his private life, the Wizna teacher spoke only Russian and we naturally assumed he was Russian.

He devoted the first session to examining all the new pupils, calling us up in alphabetical order. I was third to he examined. He asked me to write a word on the blackboard and was surprised at the correct spelling. Perhaps he thought it was an accident. He asked me to write some more and then dictated two long sentences to me. At last he asked me where I had attended school. After listening with interest he heartily complimented Pan Zaleski for his good works and told me I was absolved of the obligation to attend the sessions.

As I was about to leave, he called me back and said "I should like very much for you to help me with the class. Since you are attending the Yeshiva, you probably can do better with them than I. Perhaps with your assistance, they will learn something. I shall be glad to pay you twenty five kopeks per session." I immediately accepted his offer. He seated me with him at the table and asked me to observe his procedure, then announced that, I would his assistant and assigned the task of completing the examinations to me.

The news that I had become assistant to the teacher spread throughout the Jewish community of Wizna. Almost immediately a noticeable vicissitude took place. Most of the boys at the Yeshiva began to treat me with extra courtesy. Some of the older boys approached me about giving them private lessons, for pay. Most of them were from poor families, so I agreed to charge only those who could afford to pay at the rate of ten kopeks per lesson. A group of six, four of whom were paying pupils, was formed. After only two weeks, the rector told me that he wished to speak to me about something. "Be available right after lunch."

"Listen, Moshe," said he when I reported to him later, "you are a sensible boy and I shall attempt to deal with you in a sensible way, unless you force me to resort to disciplinary measures. The Yeshiva is a Jewish institution dedicated to the study of our Torah. You and all the other boys are here to learn the Torah, and for no other purpose. I therefore want you to cease teaching any of the boys whatever you have been teaching them, understand? I cannot stop you from assisting the teacher at the school. I don't want to provoke him, but no more lessons to any of the pupils, understand?"

Naturally, I understood. But the following week, the school experienced an increase in enrollment. Many of the boys whose age no longer required them to attend school, simply declared they were younger and therefore eligible. The teacher seemed glad to accept then. I worked diligently with the boys during the sessions. Most of them appreciated my efforts in their behalf, and the teacher often complimented me. My earnings, fifty kopeks per week, added immeasurably to my comfort. The boys at the Yeshiva nicknamed me Gospodyin Nauczyciel (Mr. Teacher); but not with sarcasm or the intent to ridicule me. On the contrary, it seemed to express their respect for me.

The school year ended with the scholastic year, at the end of June, just two months after I had become the teacher's assistant. The teacher thanked me and expressed hope that I would return to the Yeshiva for the fall semester. My reputation in town had by then become well established. Parents of boys and girls invited me into their homes and asked me if I would agree to tutor their children in my spare time. I risked a reprimand from the rector and accepted one such invitation, to teach a boy who was attending the Yeshiva and his older sister. Their father reputedly was the most well-to-do of the entire Jewish community there, and the family lived in a nice home. The boy was about my own age; the girl just a year older. I agreed to have one weekly session with them, on Saturday night, immediately following the after-dark services.

The parents of the two were friendly towards me. They received me each time with much cordiality.

During one of my visits, the boy's father engaged me in a discussion about my own parents. The man was considerably younger than Father, and he expressed surprise but admiration as well of the fact that Father had allowed me to attend school, "one lonely Jewish boy in the whole town."

His wife was very friendly and motherly. "I hope you and David become fast friends," she said. She always implored me to "feel at home" with them. "You are away from home," she said, "and you are so young: come to us often and be just like one of us." I could not accept their invitations to dine with them for fear that the rector and his wife would object.

I got along quite well with David; he was willing to learn. My difficulty was with his sister. She was fun-loving and seldom prepared her assignments. She often laughed during my tutoring, and when I admonished her for failing to do her work, or for her inattentiveness, she would put her hand in my hair, laugh and say, "Are you angry with me? I like my teacher, but he's too strict with me." The root of my perplexity, I suppose then, was my youth.

One Saturday night, I found her at home with two of her girlfriends. Her brother David and I came into the house together from the after-dark service. She laughed heartily and said, "Hey, girls, here's my teacher; isn't he handsome?" I felt embarrassed and blushed. She noticed it and cried, "Look girls, he's blushing. Doesn't he look wonderful?" The other girls laughed with her and David asked them, politely, to leave the house, as we were going to be busy. He tried to quiet his sister, and threatened to tell their parents about her behavior. But, like the reprimands she had been given previously by her mother, it proved ineffective.

While giving her the lesson that evening, I realized that she was, again, ill-prepared, and I told her I felt that I was wasting my time on her. She began to cry and pleaded with me to continue my sessions with her. She promised to do better and for two weeks she actually showed improvements. But she soon fell behind again, and I was considering quitting her as my pupil. I did quit before the end of the following week, but for another reason. The rector spoke to me about David's lessons. "I shall not compel you to quit teaching him," he said, "but I do wish you would discontinue it." That was the end of my teaching career in Wizna.

Wizna was situated on a hill which sloped down to the Narew River, one of the three principal rivers in Poland. Big log rafts were continually floated downstream, carrying the timber from the forests to various places, including Germany. On Friday afternoon David and I, sometimes accompanied by his father, usually joined the multitude of swimmers in the river. Occasionally a drowning occurred when some overconfident swimmer ventured out too far from the bank, not heeding warnings to turn back.

The local population generally believed that the river "required" two victims annually. According to their belief, it was extremely dangerous for anyone to risk any distance beyond the known shallow zone until two human lives had been sacrificed to the river.

The town was situated on the right bank of the river, and on its left bank, a meadow plain extended as far as the horizon. During that summer a regiment of the Imperial Russian Infantry set up a camp there. A number of Jewish soldiers were among them, and every Friday evening and Saturday morning they came to the synagogue for the services and then took their Sabbath meals with the local Jewish families. In connection with that, an incident occurred that rocked the Jewish community of Wizna. It led to no calamity or tragedy; on the contrary, people laughed and joked about it. Even the "victims" took it good-naturedly.

It happened when the Jewish soldiers first showed up at the synagogue. They were "distributed" among the Jewish families with whom they were to take their meals for the Sabbath Day. David's father was the host for a handsome young man who, it turned out, was very well educated. At the table he and his wife invited their guest to bring a Jewish friend, also in the service, to take his Sabbath meals with them for the duration of the regiment's stay in Wizna. The following Friday evening, the young man appeared at the synagogue accompanied by another young man, a corporal, whom he introduced to his host as his close friend.

For several weeks the two young men were the Sabbath guests of the family. At the dinner table in answer to the hosts questions regarding his background, the corporal explained that he originated from one of the inner provinces of Russia, There the Jewish population was so small that the children neither learned to speak Yiddish nor received much religious instruction.

The Jewish soldiers naturally called on the Wizna Jewish maidens. They were frequent visitors at a particular home, where there were two daughters of marriageable age. They made a good impression on the two young ladies, but they did have rivals, one of whom had taken fancy to one of the girls. In his anger, this soldier revealed that the corporal was actually a "goy." Aside from the disappointment suffered by the Jewish girl, the joke was also on David's parents.

Nevertheless they took it graciously. Instead of expressing resentment they sent word to the young men that their invitation was still in effect -- that they were glad to have both soldiers with them for the Sabbath meals for the duration of their stay. The corporal was glad to comply. He continued to visit the Jewish homes along with his Jewish friend, but no longer needed to conceal his non-Jewishness.

The end of the semester was approaching. It was time for examinations, which consisted of review recitations of the Talmud volume we had been studying. The rector took each pupil into another room and asked him to recite certain passage. Preceding the examinations, two weeks had been set aside for study. During this time, lectures were not given, providing the pupils with the opportunity to study all day.

I was among the first to be examined and, as I had feared, didn't do well at all. With intensity in his voice, the rector spoke to me. "If you have any feeling, you should feel embarrassed to return home and face your Father. I feel sorry for him, but I cannot in good conscience, recommend that he send you back here next semester, unless..., unless you give me your solemn promise that you will apply yourself better." I made that promise; his admonition saddened me terribly.

The Yeshiva was out on a Wednesday, early in September. All boys from out of town had made preparations to leave for home several days in advance. I spent the last night David's house. His sister asked me repeatedly whether I would come back after the high holidays. She cried and told her mother that if I came back, she would be my pupil again and, this time, "I'll surprise him; I'll respect him and prepare all my assignments. Please, mother, ask him to come back to us." David's father joined his wife in expressing their earnest wish that I return to Wizna the next semester.