It started as a simple and pleasant Tu b’Shvat outing – planting trees in a community garden to celebrate Judaism’s agricultural New Year – but after a booking conflict created a shortage of trees, the situation turned ugly.
“The trip got off to a great start,” says teacher Rebecca Kronfeld. Along with parent volunteer Bethany Epstein, Kronfeld was taking her Grade 6 students to plant trees, a time-honoured way to observe Judaism’s least annoying holiday.
“The kids were so excited. We’d been prepping for weeks – learning about the holiday, and how to do the planting. Only three kids threw up on the bus!”
Kronfeld says the 57 students in her class were walking toward the field when the confrontation first occurred.
“This van just pulls up out of nowhere, driving the wrong way up a one-way street, and almost hitting Daniel B. They parked diagonally across the intersection. Then they got out and all heck broke loose.”
“That’s not what happened at all,” protests Burt Schwartz, 78, resident of Withered Acres Retirement Community and head of its excursion committee, as well as the driver in question.
“I was going the speed limit. I never came close to that boy – who was too busy staring at his Game Boy to look up! When I was young, cars would drive right next to you. Sometimes they’d bump your elbow. Did we complain?”
But the real conflict was yet to come: Organizer and head planter Howard Fluge explains that an “innocent mix-up” with the calendar led to a situation in which “only a limited number of holes had been dug and only a limited number of saplings were available.”
“The error is my fault,” Fluge confesses. “Even though it was our intern’s job, and I told him a hundred times to double-check the bookings. I take full responsibility for his failures.”
Fluge says he tried to reason with both groups, “but once they realized that we only had enough saplings for one group, neither was in the mood to compromise.”
The ensuing chaos has proven difficult to reconstruct. Forensic teams have determined that as word of the shortage spread, both groups made a beeline for the available trees. Some students found their path obstructed by a makeshift barricade of canes and walkers, while others were quick enough to avoid the trap.
Kronfeld saw it all from the parking lot: “Stephanie G. and Marshall were the first to reach the saplings. They grabbed as many as they could and ran out to the field. When the rest of the students tried to follow, the old folks turned and ran after them. That’s when The Buddy System failed us.”
Burt Schwartz sees it differently: “We were just going to plant trees. The next thing you know, all these kids are swarming around us – like a street gang. They laughed at us and ran out to plant our trees. That upset some of the group.”
Fluge, perhaps the only impartial observer, saw “the students running ahead to plant trees with the old folks bearing down on them. Several of the elderly people tried to brandish their canes as clubs, though some of them fell over while trying the manoeuvre.”
While some students managed to plant their saplings properly, most just tossed them in the ground and ran, with barely enough time to take a selfie before escaping the wrinkled wrath.
“At least a dozen students tripped and fell while running back up the field,” says Fluge. “Some of them landed on the old folks, who were slowly crawling out to uproot and replant the saplings themselves. It was a mess.”
“They turned on our kids,” says Kronfeld. “Jeremy W. was whacked in the shins by a cane. Someone poured Metamucil in Brittany L.’s hair.”
Schwartz disagrees.
“Those hoodlums were violent and disrespectful to their elders. Hildie Green is 98 years old, healthy as an ox. Two days later? Renal failure. Just like that.”
Whoever is at fault, Fluge doesn’t want other schools or retirement facilities to shy away from the activity. “It’s a great way to bring the community together,” he says. “Maybe don’t bring your grandparents.”