Poor Ricki
by Libby Lazewnik
SHANA WAS ABOUT TO SLING her backpack over her shoulder and leave
the room along with the rest of her class, when the following
words froze her in her tracks:
"Shana, please come up here. I'd like to talk to you."
Normally, she would have welcomed a chat with her favorite
teacher. Just now, it was the last thing she wanted. Miss
Greenbaum ruled the seventh grade with the proverbial iron fist
inside a velvet glove. She was funny, interesting, interested,
and good company. That was the velvet. Shana had an uneasy
feeling that it was the iron she was about to encounter now.
The expression on Miss Greenbaum's face as her star student
approached her desk was not encouraging. Shana sat gingerly at
the edge of the front-row seat in the empty classroom, clutching
her schoolbag to her chest as though she wished she could hide
behind it. But there was no hiding from those clear, gray eyes.
"Your report," Miss Greenbaum began.
"I know," Shana said miserably.
"What happened? That report was not only a good few cuts below
your usual standard -- it was hardly even a report at all! If I
didn't know you better, Shana, I'd have suspected that you threw
it together in about five minutes -- with your eyes closed!"
The teacher's gaze was penetrating. Under its scrutiny, Shana
hung her head. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.
"I'm not really asking for an apology. What I would like,
though, is an explanation." Miss Greenbaum's voice softened.
"What happened, Shana?"
Shana was silent.
"Did you forget about the report? Did you have a problem getting
to the library to do the research?"
No answer.
"Shana? Are you going to say something?"
"I -- I didn't forget. I did the research."
"Then what was the problem?" The teacher paused. The silence
stretched. "Shana, I'd appreciate it if you'd answer me."
In a moment, the answer came. Shana burst into tears.
It took no longer than an instant for Miss Greenbaum to move
around from behind her own desk to the seat beside Shana's. She
took her student's hand and said firmly, "Talk, Shana. I want you
to tell me what's going on."
Shana sniffled. "It n-nothing."
"I've never known a person to cry over 'nothing.' Especially a
person as levelheaded as you are. Now, tell me, Shana."
Shana took a long, shuddering breath. "I feel stupid. It's all my
own fault, really. I should be able to organize my time better.
Ricki's not to blame at all..."
"Ricki?"
"My younger sister. I don't even know why I'm bothering to
mention her. It's really all my own fault."
"You've said that already," Miss Greebaum reminded her. "What I
want to know is where your sister comes into this. What possible
connection could she have to the report I assigned this class?"
Shana bit her lip. "If I tell you, I'll just sound like a
complainer. And I'm not, really! It's just that Ricki --" She
broke off.
Her teacher turned her chair around to face Shana squarely, and
said, "You're one of my top students this year. It's been a
pleasure teaching you, and reading your written assignments.
There's obviously something troubling you, and I respect you too
much to just let it go." She leaned forward, as though she wanted
to banish Shana's hesitation with the forcefulness of her own
personality. "What I want you to do, Shana, is simply tell me a
story. A story called Why I Turned In Such A Sub-Standard
Report. Just tell it to me the way it happened, and let me be
the judge of who -- if anyone -- is to blame. Okay?"
"I... guess so." Shana was well aware that she didn't have much
choice. In a way, that was a relief.
Miss Greenbaum leaned back. "You've got my full attention.
Begin."
Shana took a few seconds to collect her thoughts. Then begin she
did.
* * *
MY SISTER RICKI is a doll. Let me make that clear from the
start. She's sweet and nice and hardly every refuses to do a
favor for anyone who asks. I don't want you to think she's
selfish or anything. Not Ricki!
But there's another side to my sister. Though she's only eleven,
she's a deep thinker -- always pondering questions about life and
frustrated if she can't find the answers. Also -- and maybe this
is because she spends so much time thinking that she doesn't pay
enough attention in class -- she's not the world's best student.
All this means that Ricki needs someone to talk to. Sometimes
it's me; other times her best friend, Yocheved. When Ricki has
something on her mind, she doesn't like to keep it to herself.
She needs to talk about it... endlessly.
Ricki's not the kind of kid who can let things go. She'll keep
going until she's thrashed out a question or a problem to its
bitter end. Now, that's great, if you have all the time in the
world. When Ricki's in the middle of discussing something, time
has no meaning for her.
The problem is, time does go on for the rest of us.
Let me give you an example of the way it happens.
"Shana," Ricki said to me the other week, just as I was sitting
down at my desk to make up an outline for my report, "do you have
a minute? I really need to talk."
"What else are big sisters for?" I answered, privately wondering
how long this talk would take, and if it would leave me enough
time afterwards to finish the outline. I had been looking forward
to getting it out of the way early enough to leave me time to
read my new library book before bed. "What's the problem, Ricki?"
It was the old "Am I smart?" thing. You see, because she doesn't
always get such great marks, Ricki had almost convinced herself
that she was dumb. Then she was told that if she just paid more
attention in class and studied harder, she'd see that she was
just as bright as the best of them. She makes a special effort
now and then, and when she succeeds, she feels on top of the
world. But the old question -- "Am I really smart, or am I
basically dumb?" keeps haunting her. And when it does, she needs
to talk about it -- and talk about it -- and talk about it.
That night, I listened to Ricki analyze herself, and then she
listened to me analyze her, and then she did it again, and then
she asked me to do it again. Meanwhile, the clock was ticking and
I was growing more and more nervous.
"It's getting late," I hinted finally. "Why don't you sleep on
it, Ricki? We can continue the discussion tomorrow, if you want."
"But I think I've almost got it," she said eagerly. "The way I
see it is this: people have different kinds of brains, see? Some
learn well out of books. Others have `street smarts' -- a lot of
plain old common sense that helps them to get along in life. Now
the real question is, what kind of smarts do I have? Well,
here's what I think..."
And she was off and running.
Some half-hour later, I tried again.
"Ricki, I have some homework I need to get done tonight. I
basically agree with what you've figured out, and if I have any
new insights I'll be glad to share them with you tomorrow."
"Oh, are you busy?" she asked with, it seemed to me, real
concern. "Don't worry, Shana. This won't take more than a few
minutes. In -- oh, let's say ten minutes, tops -- I'll have this
all worked out in my mind, and then I'll be able to sleep. I
can't tell you how much I appreciate this!"
I'd heard that before, and I knew that Ricki meant it. But that
wasn't doing very much to help me get my assignments done. As it
was, I'd already give up on my hopes of curling up with the book
I'd been looking forward to starting that night....
It was nearly forty-five minutes later that we stopped talking,
and that was only because our mother came and hauled Ricki off to
bed.
"We'll continue tomorrow," my sister told me brightly as she left
the room. "It's so great talking things over together, isn't it?"
I managed to get the outline done before I collapsed in
exhaustion, but to say it wasn't my best work would be an
understatement. The next afternoon, I promised myself, I'd spend
a lot of time in the library, doing terrific research so that I
could write a really good report.
But Ricki buttonholed me just as I was putting on my jacket next
day.
"There's something I don't understand about one of my teachers,"
she said. "Do you have a minute, Shana?"
"Well, actually, I was about to --"
"I really want to hear your opinion on this. I could also use
some good advice. You see, Mrs. Steiger keeps telling us that..."
"Ricki," I interrupted desperately, "I don't even know Mrs.
Steiger. Wouldn't it make more sense for you to talk this over
with a school friend?"
"I've already tried, with Yocheved," she said. "But even though
she's my best friend, I have to say that Yocheved disappoints me
sometimes. I could talk to her forever, but she never has enough
time for me!"
I happened to know that Yocheved and Ricki spent hours on the
phone practically every evening. On the other days they were at
each other's houses, doing homework together and talking,
talking, talking. Ricki's attitude seemed a little unfair to me.
"There must have been a reason," I said. "Yocheved seems like a
pretty devoted friend."
"Maybe," Ricki sniffed. "But she sure got off the phone in a
hurry last night. We couldn't have been talking for more than a
few minutes!"
"A few minutes?" I asked skeptically.
"All right -- no more than half an hour! Then she said her mother
needed the phone and she had to get off."
"Well, she did have to. If her mother had to make a call."
"Fine! But why didn't she call me back afterward?"
I had a feeling I knew exactly why Yocheved hadn't called back.
"Maybe," I suggested with an effort at tact, "she had something
important to do."
"What could be more important that talking to your best friend?"
Before I could think of an answer, Ricki hurried on, "But I don't
really want to discuss Yocheved right now. I'll probably want to
talk to you about my problems with her -- maybe tomorrow,
or better yet, tonight. Right now, I need to talk about Mrs.
Steiger. You see --"
"I'm on the way to the library," I blurted, placing a hand on the
doorknob.
"Oh!" Her face fell.
My heart twisted. How could I be so selfish, thinking only of
myself, when my little sister needed me so badly?
"You could come along, if you want," I offered quickly.
"What a good idea! I'll do that. Just a sec while I get my
jacket..."
So I had Ricki's company on the walk to the library, which I'd
planned to spend thinking about how I wanted to structure the
report. Then, in the library, I'd hardly got started on my
research when Ricki was seated beside me, bored.
"Do you mind if I talk while you write things down?"
"Ricki, it might be a little hard to concentrate that way."
"But you really don't need that much concentration just to copy
things out of an encyclopedia, do you? It's kind of a mindless
job, isn't it? Now, about Mrs. Steiger --"
So much for my research.
The following afternoon, I had time for one more quick visit to
the library. I checked carefully to make sure Ricki wasn't around
before dashing out of the house and down the street. It wasn't
until I'd turned the corner and was safely out of sight of the
house that I allowed myself to slow down. I felt sneaky and
horrible doing that, but the report was due next day! I managed
to jot down a few more notes, and then it was time to go home and
take care of all my other homework, and it was my turn to dry the
dishes that night, and then I simply had to write the report.
Luckily, Ricky was away at Yocheved's house most of the evening,
studying for a test. I got my other homework out of the way
first, then tackled the report.
I'd barely begun, when there was a sound at my door.
I looked up. It was Ricki.
"What kind of friend," she began as she marched into the room and
sat down on my bed, "doesn't care about her own best friend's
feelings?"
"What's the matter?" I asked wearily, hoping against hope that
she'd cut it short this time.
"Yocheved's a really nice girl and all that -- but she could be a
little more caring. Take tonight, for instance. All she wanted to
do was study. Okay, so we're having a test tomorrow. But couldn't
she have taken out a minute to listen to something that's been on
my mind for days? All she had to do was listen for one little
minute, and then I'd have been happy to study to her heart's
content. But would she do it? Not on your life! `Let's save it
for after we study,' she told me.
"'But you know what'll happen then,' I argued. 'It'll be late,
and I'll have to go home! Come on, let's take a break -- just for
a minute!' But Yocheved refused to budge."
Ricki stopped short, as if struck by a sudden thought. "Shana, do
you think there was a deeper reason for that? D'you think maybe
she's angry at me for something else? Maybe I should call her and
discuss it."
"Yes, yes!" I urged her. "Give her a call right away. It's best
to clear up misunderstandings quickly."
She started getting to her feet -- and then sat down again. "I
think it would be better if you and I talk it over first. I don't
want to say anything that might hurt her feelings. Let's first
try to figure out why she acted that way, and then talk
about how I ought to react..."
I threw a longing look at the clean white pages that were
supposed to be filling up with my report. Ricki, it was plain to
see, would brook no delay. If I didn't want to be selfish, I had
to be there for her when she needed me.
I resigned myself to another long conversation. The report would
have to wait.
* * *
"SO YOU SEE, Miss Greenbaum," Shana ended, "you were right. I
did write that report in too little time, and with my eyes
closed -- or half-closed, anyway. Because Ricki kept me talking
for two solid hours before going off to phone her friend, and
then my mother needed me to help her put the baby to bed, and by
the time I sat down to my report it was so late I could barely
see!" She looked beseechingly at her teacher. "I'm really sorry.
If you want, I'll do the report over."
"And have the same thing happen again?" Miss Greenbaum retorted.
"I think you have a more serious problem here -- a problem that
needs to be addressed. You have to learn how to stand up for
yourself, Shana. You deserve time, too -- time for yourself, for
what you need and want!"
"But I don't want to hurt my sister's feelings. Poor Ricki --"
"Never mind poor Ricki," her teacher said firmly. "I'm talking
about 'poor Shana' now. Sometimes it's necessary to hurt
someone's feelings a little, just to get them to learn a crucial
lesson. You wouldn't avoid giving a child a vaccination against a
serious illness just because the needle will prick a bit, would
you?
"Well, it seems to me that your sister urgently needs to be
vaccinated, against developing a very unpleasant middah (character trait).
Now, listen closely...."
* * *
SHANA CAME HOME TIRED but exhilirated. She and her teacher had
had a long talk. She knew exactly how Ricki felt after thoroughly
discussing a problem. It was a clean, fresh feeling, as though
you'd dropped a heavy burden and were ready to take on the world.
But first she needed to rest. As she walked up the block to her
house, she planned her evening. First supper -- because of her
long talk with Miss Greenbaum, she'd barely make it on time --
and then helping Ima out in the kitchen, and then the moment she
was looking forward to most of all: when she could go into her
room and encase herself in the peace and quiet she craved. There
wasn't much homework tonight, so she'd have time to read her book
and take a bath and maybe call a friend to chat. Or maybe not.
She'd take each minute as it came, a precious and delightful
gift, to use any way she pleased...
Her agenda worked out well in its early stages. Supper and
kitchen duty behind her, Shana went upstairs to her room. She
closed the door, looked around at her dear, familiar things, and
broke into a smile. The evening was hers! She'd get that little
bit of homework out of the way first, and then --
"Shana?" There was a quick rap at the door. It opened a few
inches, and there was Ricki's face, smiling at her in the eager
way she had. "Shana, do you have a minute? I really need to talk
to you."
Shana opened her mouth -- and then closed it again. She thought
of what Miss Greenbaum had told her, about how she wasn't doing
`poor Ricki' any favors by allowing her to become so wrapped up
in herself that she didn't see, or care, about anybody else's
needs.
"A minute I do have," she said. She glanced openly at her desk
clock, then nodded at Ricki. "Start now."
Ricki looked at the clock, then at her sister. Her expression was
one of bewilderment. "What do you mean? You know it'll take more
than exactly a minute!"
"But a minute," Shana said softly, "is all I have tonight."
Ricki's expression changed to one of petulance. She stamped her
foot. "Oh, you're as bad as Yocheved! All you care about is
yourself! You never give me any time or attention!"
Shana thought of all the evenings she'd sacrificed to act as a
soundingboard for 'poor Ricki.' She thought of Yocheved, who had
done the same thing in person and over the phone for three
devoted years. "The best way to keep someone from becoming
spoiled and self-centered," Miss Greenbaum had said, "is to teach
them to be thankful."
"Aren't you being just a little -- ungrateful?" Shana suggested
gently.
Ricki's face fell. "Oh, no, of course not! How can you say that,
Shana? You know how much I appreciate the time you spend
listening to me and helping me work things out."
"I'm glad to give you the time, when I can," Shana said.
"Unfortunately, right now I have other plans. Unless this is an
emergency...?" Her voice trailed off on the question.
Ricki hesitated, then said, "No. It's no emergency, I guess. But
I really did want to talk..."
Shana decided to extend the allotted minute -- but only by a
little. She used the time to explain to her younger sister about
the things she could do when other people could not spare her all
the time in the world to talk. A diary was great for that. So was
just sitting in a quiet place and thinking.
"What you do with me is basically think out loud," Shana pointed
out. "You could do that yourself, and then, if you feel like it,
share your conclusions with me or Yocheved or anyone else."
"I thought you liked talking things over with me," Ricki said
wistfully.
"I did. I do! But the fact is that no one has all the time you'd
like them to give you. And, much as I like helping you, I have to
save some of it -- even just a little bit -- for myself.
Understand, Ricki?"
Ricki's answer was to throw her arms, with a touch of shyness,
around her big sister's neck. At that moment, the phone rang.
"Ricki! For you!" came their mother's voice from downstairs.
She glanced at the extension in Shana's room. "May I?"
"Go ahead."
Ricki picked up the phone. "Hello? Oh, hi, Yocheved."
"Hi! Listen, I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to discuss whatever
it was that was on your mind the other night. I was really
nervous about that test. But I have some time now, if you want."
"Great!" Ricki exclaimed. "Don't worry, this'll only take a
minute."
She stopped. She glanced over at Shana, who smiled. Ricki grinned
back. Then she said into the receiver, "Actually, I'm in Shana's
room right now, and I kind of get the feeling she wants to be
alone. And I know that Monday nights are a little hectic at your
house, with your mother out. So why don't we do it another time -
-- at your convenience?"
Her friend's dumbfounded silence made Ricki smile again. She was
still smiling as she hung up the phone and skipped off to her own
room to find a brand-new notebook she could use as a diary.
Doctor Shana, vaccination successfully completed, stood in the
precious peace of her room, and she was smiling,
Author Libby Lazewnik is one of Jewry's most acclaimed
juvenile fiction writers.