They fascinated me. They lived beside us, but in a system entirely apart. Talking to them would cast me into a state of mortal sin, but I badly wanted to hear how yeshiva boys lived, and talked, and thought. I wanted to hear what went in within the hallowed halls where my feet could never tread. I gathered up crumbs of information, snippets of conversations. And I wondered.
Fast forward ten years, out of high school and into Shidduchim. Yeshiva boys are coming out of my ears. Can this be God's repayment for my once secret interest? "You want to hear what it's like in Yeshiva, do you? You'll hear what it's like in a hundred Yeshivas!"
For I am now an expert on Yeshivas.
A Chareidi colleague discusses where to send his son to Yeshiva. I inundate him with a wealth of information; I tell him the pros and cons of each institution, the type of boys who go there, the families they come from, the staff's approach to Chinuch, and the comfort level of the food and dorms. I even share some of the below the surface politics with him.
"Oh they've changed" I say, "The new Rosh Yeshiva want to make it more Chareidi."
He blinks at me. Why should a girl know all this? What business is it of hers?
I wish I could pull out my credentials, and flourish them in his face. I have endless reliable sources; an infinite list of conversations and discussions, on all facets of Yeshiva life- the good, the bad, and the excruciatingly boring.
For what does a Yeshiva boy talk about on a date, if not his Yeshiva?
So if you need advice on where to Shteig in Eretz Yisroel, or where to send your son, contact: 1-800-Frum N' Flipping – for all your Chinuch needs.
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