Hebrew school opened world for Texan

I grew up in Texas, the daughter of immigrants. Outside of being told I was Jewish, nothing was mentioned about Judaism except on Chanukah I always got a present.

I was and never have been at a loss to embark on a new adventure. At the age of 11 having just entered the sixth grade, the mother of the one and only other Jewish kid in my class asked me, "Do you want to go with Hilda to Hebrew school?"

I had no idea what Hebrew school was, but Mrs. Rubel drove a car, a car -- the only woman in my life that could drive. Without hesitation I said, "Yes, sure."

I entered a world supervised by Rabbi Charles Blumenthal, the most important person in my life. I took to the Hebrew school like the proverbial "duck to water" and attended for five years.

At the age of 12, five of us girls were confirmed. We met at the synagogue on a Sunday morning; each of us read in Hebrew from the Torah, each of us gave a speech denoting a virtue -- mine was modesty. We wore long white organza dresses, carried a bouquet of white carnations and wore a white gardenia in our hair. The rabbi gave each of us white prayerbook with our name engraved on the cover.

I taught the kindergarten class at Sunday school for one year when I was 16. Many of the children came down with chicken pox which they passed on to me within a week of my high school graduation. Then and there, I decided to never become a teacher.