We spend our lives looking for the people who will change us forever. When we find them, we do whatever we can to keep them close. Some of these people are friends we meet in school, neighbors, or colleagues, people we are naturally surrounded by. However, some of these people come into our lives unexpectedly. I never really thought about how people came to be major players in my life. That changed during my senior year at Bais Yaakov.
As Bais Yaakov alumnae know, there are two options for general studies in 12th grade. Every senior has to complete mandatory classes, and then a student has the option to choose from courses offered by CCBC or fill her afternoon with a selection of electives. I chose electives. By the first day of school, most of my schedule was complete. However, even with a finished schedule, the first few days are spent fine-tuning schedules and figuring out every class. My problem was that I was accidentally scheduled for two of the same class and was left with a gap in my schedule.
I sat down with our favorite Mrs. Wolf and tried to figure it out. Mrs. Wolf told me that, if I wanted to keep the rest of my schedule the same, my only option was to take the guitar class. Let me just say this: I hadn’t signed up for that class on purpose. I have no musical skills whatsoever. I had never picked up an instrument, let alone thought of attending a whole semester of a guitar class. Since this was my only option, though, I reluctantly agreed, and was officially scheduled into the beginner’s guitar class.
Mrs. Drabkin was listed as the teacher for the class. As a newcomer to Bais Yaakov, I didn’t know Mrs. Drabkin from fifth-grade recorder or any of her music programs in the community. As far as I knew, I was walking into a class that would be miserably spent trying to figure out the complicated strings of a guitar.
My first day of the class, I walked into the room. Six or seven girls were there already, chatting with a very short woman, presumably the teacher, who was sitting on the desk. Her back was facing me, so I couldn’t see who she was. I walked up to her and timidly said, “Um, hi. I think I’m supposed to be in this class.”
Two piercing blue eyes turned to face me and with a great amount of cheer and excitement, this woman responded, “I think you mean, ‘Hi Mrs. Drabkin, can I please be in your class?’”
Stunned and not really sure what to do, I slowly started, “Hi, Mrs. Drabkin, um,…”
Before I could finish, her face broke into a huge smile, and she said, “Oh come on in, sweetie. Welcome to guitar! We’re going to have so much fun.”
About halfway through second semester, my Mrs. D was diagnosed with cancer. She had to stop teaching, but that didn’t stop me from seeing her. I was at her house many times a week to just sit and talk and laugh with her. She welcomed me into her family and showed me unconditional love. Through her two-year battle with cancer, Mrs. D taught me what it means to see Hashem in our everyday lives. I remember I was once visiting with her right after she had surgery, and she sneezed. It hurt so much for her to sneeze, and when I asked her if she was okay, she responded, “Ronit, I am so happy that it hurts me to sneeze! At least I am here to sneeze and feel it!”
I never used to think like that. I had never taken time to think about every little gift Hashem gives us in a day. Now, I appreciate things like getting a good parking spot when I’m running late or finding something I’ve been looking for.
Mrs. D gave me so much love and taught me so much more than she’ll ever know. She truly changed my life. Perhaps the greatest gift she gave me, however, was my connection with the Jewish Caring Network (JCN). Mrs. Drabkin was the cofounder of JCN and played a large part in the services JCN provides for all its families. Because of Mrs. D, I began volunteering for JCN, and I now proudly work there.
Every year, JCN holds a 5K as its main fundraiser. The last two years, I was the team captain of team Refuah 4 Chaya, a team I started as a zechus (merit) for her refuah (recovery). This year, along with her daughters, we formed Mrs. D’s Music Makers, a tribute to her love of music and her passion for teaching. We wanted this team to be a way for anyone in the community to remember Mrs. D and show their love for her. There are so many who, in one way or another, were affected by Mrs. D. In these last couple of weeks before the women’s 5K on June 3, I would like to invite the community to join our team. Come run, walk, or just fundraise with us to honor this remarkable woman.
