Yes, I'm a Rebbe!

Of course in my state of bewilderment, this seemed like an ideal move, I'll become a Rebbe. What else would I become, a doctor? I knew that if I wasn't in Yeshiva, at least being a Rebbe was semi respectable, even for a bachur. I needed something to do. I went to work for a friend of the family as a second grade Rebbe. Looking back, I felt quite awkward. I was so sad, angry and scared inside. I was in no shape to be infront of a classroom, but I had a knack for teaching and so there were some good times. I did care about the kids and I did get better. It all felt pretty lop sided, wearing a hat and having the position of teacher and being so lost and unsure inside. I pretended all was OK. Oh, were things coming apart inside. I just didn't know what to do. what I was feeling or what I was thinking. Before the school year had begun, one of the parents of my future students had heard that a man with my last name, was going to be teaching his son. When he met me, noticing how young I was, he asked me, if I was the son of the Rebbe. slightly offended, I told him, no, I was the Rebbe. In general, that's how I felt, in the wrong place, unsettled and pretty on edge a lot, if not all of the time.