The Bubble.

The morning alarm screeched at 6:30. Reincarnated, I threw on a collared shirt and some khakis, topped off with a Kippah – this was our dress code. I gathered my items for the day and headed out on the daily journey across the Hudson River. Bumper-to-bumper traffic tested my patience early, battling for every inch across the George Washington Bridge into New York.
 
I turned north to the Bronx and ditched the rest of the morning migration heading south to Manhattan. My Jeep blazed up the Henry Hudson Parkway, somehow always in a race with the clock, but by 8am I was miraculously present for mandatory morning prayers.
 
On the spectrum of modern orthodoxy, I was positioned closer to the secular side. But within my circles at the time, that just meant wrapping Tefillin without the same enthusiasm as others.[1] I was still very much entrenched in the religion, especially at SAR High School where the entire population was of similar background. My closest friends congregated from Jewish communities all over New Jersey, Westchester, Manhattan, Queens to meet at this hub.

Morning prayers crawled to a conclusion, and I ran across the street to Dunkin Donuts. It was one of the few Kosher establishments in the strip mall where students dined. The pizza store was awful, but that’s a story for another time. I collected my two prescribed glazed donuts and scampered back to the building for first period.
 
It was a good moment to breathe after a chaotic start to the day. Unfortunately, that was just warmups. Eleven periods of classes were on the docket – eleven!
 
The dual curriculum of my private Jewish school was demanding in multiple facets. Classes were rigorous, but the conditioning was what would beat you to your knees. I learned slowly it was all about pacing energy. That meant sacrificing effort in one department for another.
 
Let me elaborate:
 
The variety of courses dispersed throughout my day-to-day held different levels of importance and rigor. Typically, the more challenging a course, the more likely it was important. The more important a course, the more likely it was secular.
 
Secular courses were standard educational offerings like Spanish, Precalculus, and AP Biology. These stimulated my mental the most and seemingly prepared me for “life beyond” the Bubble.
 
In contrast, Judaic courses were less stimulating and certainly insignificant in the long run; Everything, but their grade on my report card. No college would ever require TSBP[2], Tanakh[3], or Halacha[4] as prerequisites. Some of my peers relished these courses though, as opportunities to strengthen their Jewish identity and to learn more about the religion and its storied past. All the academic institutions in our Bubble preach that narrative and yet categorize and grade it just like a math course. It is a paradox:
 
If they removed grading from Judaic studies for the merit of simply learning, students like me would never pay attention. If they kept grading, students like me are turned off. Either way, that explains my outlook… Judaic studies were not my top priority.
 
As such, they became precious in getting me through the long days. Instead of working moderately hard throughout all eleven periods of the day, I could ‘power off’ during these Judaic courses and stay sharp for the secular. Obviously, it would always come back to bite me a few days before an exam, but I was a master last-minute studier. I remember hibernating in my winter jacket for weeks through Gemera class before reemerging, learning the intricacies of ancient property damage, and acing the exam.
 
It was positive reinforcement for bad habits – but it worked.
 
Aside from the on-off switch programmed between secular and Judaic courses, key landmarks helped push me through the endless days. The first was breakfast: brief, but integral.
 
The five-period push to start the day was over three hours and ruthless. Luck of the draw determined which classes were first and would dictate my mood for the rest of the day. Regardless, lunch already occupied my thoughts. Its salvation couldn’t come soon enough.
 
It was by far the most reinvigorating break, as I’d meet with friends and dash across the street to beat the lines. While our cafeteria offered a purchasable in-school option, nobody ate it. Instead, we rotated through the same establishments every day. Either it was lousy pizza, unquenching bagels, scraps from the market, or oily fried food from Carlos and Gabbys – a Kosher chain.
 
We paraded around the Bronx in our kippahs without a clue to the uniqueness of our lives. Locals passed by us with crooked stares, but we neglected to consider their alternate universe. Other modern orthodox schools in the Yeshiva League encountered similar interactions, like Ramaz in Manhattan. However, most schools remained extremely insulated. Frisch kids in Paramus, NJ never left the building during the day and could go weeks without non-Jewish interactions. The same could be said for HAFTR students, because despite similar external dining, Cedarhurst is an overwhelmingly Jewish town – far more than the Bronx or Upper East.
 
The class after lunch was always the easiest to bear. Two hours later, time ticked much slower. ‘Mincha Break’ couldn’t come soon enough. Around 3pm, the bell would sound and mark this next landmark. We gathered in small groups for afternoon prayers. Like classes, this attendance was marked. I was never the most spiritual, but always found some peace in those quiet moments.
 
A quick conversation with friends following Mincha and once again, we were back in our chairs for the final push. By this point, I was running on fumes and limping to the finish line.
 
The clock trickled forward, finally hitting 5:10pm – an arbitrary number for most, but a mark of freedom for us.
 
[1] https://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/1918251/jewish/What-Are-Tefillin.htm
[2] Torah Sheba’al Peh’ (Oral Law), including the Mishnah and Gemara
[3] The Bible (Written Law), including 24 ancient books.
[4] Collection of Jewish laws derived from Oral and Written Torah.