No right way to say that absent classmates are dead
By Anshel Pfeffer -- Haaretz Daily
Monday, February 23, 2004A little after 3 P.M., the principal of the Experimental School in the center of Jerusalem, Uri Geva, assembled the 55 students in the graduating class, the teachers, and dozens of parents. "We're still waiting for official notice," he began, finding it difficult to continue.
For the friends of Benaya Jonathan Zukerman, 18, it was enough. The principal continued: "The whole time we hoped and we prayed, and now we all need to be strong. We lost..." He stopped again. He later said that this was the first time he had to tell students about the death of a friend, and that there was no right way to do so.
When news hit of the suicide bombing on bus No. 14, at around 8:30 A.M., Jerusalem schools began the standard procedure of dealing with terror attacks that take place in the morning: homeroom teachers went from class to class, checking who was absent and trying to reach them on the phone. In the Hebrew Gymnasia high school in the Rehavia neighborhood, concern was particularly strong: about half of the students live in the south of the city and travel to school on bus No. 14. Many of them begin class at 9 A.M.
After about half an hour, it became clear that the concern was justified: about 10 of the school's students had traveled on the bus. The school defined two of them as missing; one student, Liz Monteleo, was located later in serious condition in the hospital. An additional 11 high school students from throughout Jerusalem were wounded in yesterday's attack, and dozens of other youths witnessed it.
(...)
But Lior was a happy boy. His friends described him as the "class clown," a boy "without limits, who was always making everyone else laugh." His friend Aviel said that two months ago, after a heavy rain, "in a bet with the class, he jumped fully clothed into the sandbox, which had turned into a lake."
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