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Part 2 of 3

Shlichus presents an interesting decision to be made, especially when you’re in Mesivta. Do I farbreng with my kvutza in our little living space, and have another one of those Tzvishen Zich's debating if our Shlichus is learning or Mivtzas? Or do we go to one of the three shiurim and and analyze their mashpiim like I'm deciding where to send my son to Mesivta?

It was on 20 Cheshvan that I decided to farbreng with Rabbi S. and the rest of Shiur Aleph, less than two months into their yeshiva experience.

Farbeisin consists of what yeshiva provided, because they are not yet sick of it, nor sophisticated enough to fundraise to buy delicacies like Mike and Ikes or salt-and-vinegar chips. For now, pretzels, wafers, and popcorn will do.

As soon as Maariv is over, the bochurim rush to reserve their seats. Some want to sit next to the mashpia, while others sit strategically near a pole so they can lean their back and survive. These decisions have enormous ramifications because they will keep these seats for the rest of the year. A farbrengen or real-estate?

The mashpia enters and the farbrengen begins, and I will arrive fashionably late.

As a visiting shliach and not “part of the class,” I can’t have a set place. I sit in a vacant seat for maybe ten seconds before I get kicked out by the Sar Hamashkim, who is distributing Rashi wine, keeping track of who already had four. While he’s pouring, I start noticing sticky splashes landing on shirt collars of the unknowing.

After being asked to leave the seat, I drag in a chair and sit in the back, where I can watch actually stay pretty safe.

An hour or two pass and the restless bochurim leave to bullshove in zal and enjoy their “late night.” This gives me a chance to move closer, which turns out to be a mistake.

I look around at the table in front of me. It's an ecosystem, it has moving organisms, a life of its own.

Popcorn is floating in a plate of liquid whose color I do not recognize. A bochur in the corner has built a mound of mushed pretzel crumbs held together by Rashi wine, which almost makes me gag. Another is scraping two wafers together until it becomes sawdust, which immediately falls off his lap as he jumps up on the bench to sing a lively niggun.

The bochurim spring up with him to dance to the niggun, energetically stomping on the table. This inevitably leads to someone making a kulleh, where a bochur lands directly into the black hole, the middle of the table with no actual table underneath, just a tablecloth pretending to be something it’s not. Everything that falls into that area comes out changed. Wafers become paste. Pretzels become cement. Humanity becomes optional.

By the end, I’m sitting there holding my breath, trying to keep my pants from touching anything, and realizing something very important: In Mesivta, there is no such thing as leaving a farbrengen clean.

There’s only leaving before it gets worse.

So I left.

Maybe I should make a "no shoes policy" in my room.

Note: This is a true account of events, with light editing assistance from AI.