4.2.12 WC: 191694 To be sure, I was a mediocre Yeshiva student--actually I exaggerate: I was slightly worse than mediocre, once having actually received a grade of "Bayn Ani Minus," which literally means "mediocre minus." I couldn't even quite make it to mediocrity. At least I had something to which to aspire! When I was in sixth grade, the school decided to administer IQ tests to all the students. The school called my mother and said that I had gotten one of the highest scores. At first the rabbi thought I had cheated, but when he was persuaded that in fact I had a high IQ he decided to put me in the A class. We had a track system and the grades were divided into the A, B and C classes. I had always been in the C class. My mother was worried about me having to compete with all those smart kids, so she persuaded the principal to compromise and put me in the B class, where I remained, getting C’s until I graduated. I spent my four high school years in what was called "the garbage class," which focused more on discipline than learning. I had a well deserved reputation in both elementary and high school as a “bad kid”. My grades were low (except on state-wide standardized tests called the “regents,” which I always aced). My conduct, called “deportment,” was terrible. I was always getting into trouble because of my pranks, because I “talked back” and was “fresh” to teachers, because I questioned everything, because I didn’t show “respect,” and because I was a “wise guy.” This was the greatest gift—ok, I will even say "blessing"—of my Yeshiva education: To question everything and everyone. It was merely an unintended consequence of the Yeshiva method, and I was certainly not its only beneficiary or (according to the rabbis) its only failure. The Jewish characteristic of questioning is not a complete coincidence. It is a product of experiences, and surely the Yeshiva education--which juxtaposes religion and science with little explicit effort to reconcile these distinct a