At ten, Rosa can write and speak Russian, the language of the occupying rulers; Polish, the language of her country; Yiddish, the language of her people; Hebrew, the language of her religion; and German too, for good measure. The best school is reserved for Russian children, but she wins a scholarship to the Second Gymnasium. Only a few places are allocated to Jews, and they set the bar higher for them. Little Rosa studies hard. She can’t afford to trip up. 
Rosa’s parents’ concerns are real: there is no political freedom in Tsarist Poland, and dissent will not be tolerated. When Rosa is fourteen, four socialists are hanged on the slopes of the Warsaw Citadel. Intended to deter new recruits to the socialist cause, this simply piques Rosa’s interest. Warsaw is the centre of industry for the Russian empire, where absolute wealth and utter destitution jostle in uneasy juxtaposition. Once Rosa’s eyes have opened, how can she fail to see? When Rosa graduates from school, the gold medal that her stellar academic performance merits is withheld from her “on account of her rebellious attitude.” All avenues for further education are barred to women. What will she do? This little fifteen-year-old slip of a girl must have caused quite a stir.