One of the lasting moments of this class was when we were in D.C. with all of the students. The illustrious professor accompanied the group, and yet, sadly, he never came and talked to the students from our group. Not once. They didn't say anything, but I knew from that point on he had lost those 5 kids. I have always believed that teachers should never become "Friends" with their students. Yet, they do need to engage the students, and try to develop a relationship and get to know who they are. This was a chance for this teacher to connect with these kids, try to find out why they were failing the class. But the chance was lost.
When the students returned from this trip, the Holocaust class became hopelessly meaningless. I tried offering help, after school study sessions etc. but it was to no avail. They came to the final weeks, bored, inattentive and unruly. They all failed the final, and failed the class. The C's that they needed did not come.
Likewise, I felt I failed in a way. I had hoped something would spark them. Soon they found my efforts to be annoying as well. I truly think the ship was lost in D.C.
They were good kids, I believe that wholeheartedly, yet they were never inspired to learn about the Holocaust and why the living and dead that were put through it had their tales fall on deaf ears. The teacher too was a good man, extremely knowledgeable about the history of this era, yet completely void of knowledge of adolescent pedagogy.
And so I begin my quest to right a wrong, to bring the tale of a vibrant young Jewish girl, to students, in the hopes, of letting a past generation, tell their story of a people that were squashed under tyranny and oppression, yet survived to rise again, and walk proudly.
It is a tale that must be told.
My journey begins here.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Why? continued
Part of the Holocaust course that I previously described, involved going to the U.S. Memorial Holocaust Museum in Washington D.C. I thought that perhaps this might help the students understand the Holocaust. I let the students go through the museum at their own pace, and I walked through on my own.
This museum is beyond compare in my opinion. It offers a truly informative experience. Expertly designed, this walks you through a 3 floor experience detailing the Holocaust- from its beginnings to its tragic middle and yet... it also offers a glimmer of hope at its conclusion. Perhaps the most compelling display I came across was a room with a pile of shoes. Yes shoes, taken from Jews destined for the camps. Some shoes fancy some merely functional, and yet.... So incredibly touching. It had never dawned on me how are shoes tell a tale about us. Even though we may buy identical shoes with someone else, how they wear and how they form to our feet become remarkably unique to us. Those shoes told a simple story, much like Anne's story. We can identify with a simple shoe. Of course questions come flooding through your mind. Who's shoes? What happened to the owner? How did they come to be here, so many years later?
This display made me cry, I am not ashamed to admit it. Lloyd Elm taught me that tears are no shame. So when I come across a sad movie, I cry. Except when I am with my daughters. They get upset. But I digress. This museum is powerful....
But what about my students. I found them at the end of the exhibit... and interestingly, their faces did not display much emotion. They did not seem shaken up or sad, or pondering deep thoughts. Is this just HS? As a high school student, what would my reaction be? I won't lie, I'm sure I wouldn't be in tears to protect my image as a cool dude, but... I think I would have been shaken by this. These students didn't seem to be shaken at all. As a matter of fact, I don't think they talked about it the rest of the day.
Do they care? Can they relate? Can the feel the suffering that took place?
To this day I can't say. They rarely discussed it.
Finished for now, but there is one more posting about this class that I must tell...
This museum is beyond compare in my opinion. It offers a truly informative experience. Expertly designed, this walks you through a 3 floor experience detailing the Holocaust- from its beginnings to its tragic middle and yet... it also offers a glimmer of hope at its conclusion. Perhaps the most compelling display I came across was a room with a pile of shoes. Yes shoes, taken from Jews destined for the camps. Some shoes fancy some merely functional, and yet.... So incredibly touching. It had never dawned on me how are shoes tell a tale about us. Even though we may buy identical shoes with someone else, how they wear and how they form to our feet become remarkably unique to us. Those shoes told a simple story, much like Anne's story. We can identify with a simple shoe. Of course questions come flooding through your mind. Who's shoes? What happened to the owner? How did they come to be here, so many years later?
This display made me cry, I am not ashamed to admit it. Lloyd Elm taught me that tears are no shame. So when I come across a sad movie, I cry. Except when I am with my daughters. They get upset. But I digress. This museum is powerful....
But what about my students. I found them at the end of the exhibit... and interestingly, their faces did not display much emotion. They did not seem shaken up or sad, or pondering deep thoughts. Is this just HS? As a high school student, what would my reaction be? I won't lie, I'm sure I wouldn't be in tears to protect my image as a cool dude, but... I think I would have been shaken by this. These students didn't seem to be shaken at all. As a matter of fact, I don't think they talked about it the rest of the day.
Do they care? Can they relate? Can the feel the suffering that took place?
To this day I can't say. They rarely discussed it.
Finished for now, but there is one more posting about this class that I must tell...
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Why?
Well, I suppose I have answered that a bit. Why am I wanting to bring this story to light in a new way? Because the story and the life of Anne Frank is so engaging, so powerful.
But there is more... a few years ago, I had the unpleasant duty in a school to be a Distance Learning monitor for 5 High School kids taking a Holocaust Class. I was to take attendance, pass out any of the required paperwork, turn on the Distance Learning Polycom machine and make sure the students were somewhat paying attention. There were 3 other schools involved so the teacher was teaching in a Distance Learning room Far Far Away.
And so he began to lecture.... and lecture... and lecture. Occasionally he would throw in a video. A history video of the Holocaust, and Oprah Winfrey interview with Elie Weisel, and that was about it. The rest of the time he would talk... and talk. Now to be fair, he knew his stuff. I found him very interesting. I had been groomed to listen to long lectures with no interruption. And to be honest, I enjoy that type of class because I can feel at ease to listen without much required of me at that moment.
And yet, the students in this class that I was in charge of became hopelessly bored within a week. This class required a lot of outside of class work. Read Elie Weisel's "Night" for one, and the students were falling behind. They took a quiz or two and did not do well. They were getting discouraged and bored, and what's worse, the professor on the other side of the Polycom, did not care less. He did not engage them, he did not try to engage them... the lecture continued, the work continued the quizzes continued. The students were losing interest, they were failing.
And me? I was just supposed to sit there and pass out the work and turn on the tv and take attendance. And... Watch them fail, and hope to keep them from falling asleep, or worse get unruly. I went to the principal I begged him to give me a solution? What can I do? The teacher in me could not sit back and let this happen without me doing something on my end. I asked if I could give them supplemental material, he said sure... I asked if I could offer additional study questions, he said sure. His final point to me was.... these kids just need to pass this class. They need a C.
Well, I had to try... I brought printed worksheets with extra materials, I tried breaking down the reading. I tried reviewing with them the key points that would be on the quiz. They did better but the struggling continued.
But the worse part of all of this... the worse part! These kids didn't care about the Holocaust... they didn't show one ounce of empathy for this sad chapter in world history!
And the mad professor on the other end of the screen didn't care one bit. He was teaching to the kids that were self motivated enough from other schools to pass his class. He had written off these kids... and they knew it. There was a deal made... they would sit, I would take attendance, and he would talk. And they were failing, and despite my efforts to help... it wasn't enough to give them the motivation or the information to pass.
Stay tuned for more...
But there is more... a few years ago, I had the unpleasant duty in a school to be a Distance Learning monitor for 5 High School kids taking a Holocaust Class. I was to take attendance, pass out any of the required paperwork, turn on the Distance Learning Polycom machine and make sure the students were somewhat paying attention. There were 3 other schools involved so the teacher was teaching in a Distance Learning room Far Far Away.
And so he began to lecture.... and lecture... and lecture. Occasionally he would throw in a video. A history video of the Holocaust, and Oprah Winfrey interview with Elie Weisel, and that was about it. The rest of the time he would talk... and talk. Now to be fair, he knew his stuff. I found him very interesting. I had been groomed to listen to long lectures with no interruption. And to be honest, I enjoy that type of class because I can feel at ease to listen without much required of me at that moment.
And yet, the students in this class that I was in charge of became hopelessly bored within a week. This class required a lot of outside of class work. Read Elie Weisel's "Night" for one, and the students were falling behind. They took a quiz or two and did not do well. They were getting discouraged and bored, and what's worse, the professor on the other side of the Polycom, did not care less. He did not engage them, he did not try to engage them... the lecture continued, the work continued the quizzes continued. The students were losing interest, they were failing.
And me? I was just supposed to sit there and pass out the work and turn on the tv and take attendance. And... Watch them fail, and hope to keep them from falling asleep, or worse get unruly. I went to the principal I begged him to give me a solution? What can I do? The teacher in me could not sit back and let this happen without me doing something on my end. I asked if I could give them supplemental material, he said sure... I asked if I could offer additional study questions, he said sure. His final point to me was.... these kids just need to pass this class. They need a C.
Well, I had to try... I brought printed worksheets with extra materials, I tried breaking down the reading. I tried reviewing with them the key points that would be on the quiz. They did better but the struggling continued.
But the worse part of all of this... the worse part! These kids didn't care about the Holocaust... they didn't show one ounce of empathy for this sad chapter in world history!
And the mad professor on the other end of the screen didn't care one bit. He was teaching to the kids that were self motivated enough from other schools to pass his class. He had written off these kids... and they knew it. There was a deal made... they would sit, I would take attendance, and he would talk. And they were failing, and despite my efforts to help... it wasn't enough to give them the motivation or the information to pass.
Stay tuned for more...
Monday, May 10, 2010
Why?
Why would I write about Anne Frank, whose diary written long ago still graces classrooms across the world? Why this story... what is it about a book written by a young Jewish girl, in hiding from the terrible plague of the Holocaust that would one day find her and take her young life?
It is such a simple story really. She writes of feuds with her mother, crushes on boys, the perfect sister, of fears from hiding.... simple themes... realistic themes. So delicately written, so authentic despite its translation. Its simplicity and authenticity are its power. We are drawn into her life, so easily. so seamlessly and we cannot leave from it without being scarred by it in some way. Or.. at least I couldn't. I read it as a young 7th or 8th grade boy, then watched the movie based on it, and I was transfixed by it.
And so, today, this 44 year old man, thinks of it again. Her story has been around, it has been read, it has been made into countless media forms. So what is left to do? What new dynamic is there to add?
Well, one... at least one that I would like to try.
And so I begin.
It is such a simple story really. She writes of feuds with her mother, crushes on boys, the perfect sister, of fears from hiding.... simple themes... realistic themes. So delicately written, so authentic despite its translation. Its simplicity and authenticity are its power. We are drawn into her life, so easily. so seamlessly and we cannot leave from it without being scarred by it in some way. Or.. at least I couldn't. I read it as a young 7th or 8th grade boy, then watched the movie based on it, and I was transfixed by it.
And so, today, this 44 year old man, thinks of it again. Her story has been around, it has been read, it has been made into countless media forms. So what is left to do? What new dynamic is there to add?
Well, one... at least one that I would like to try.
And so I begin.
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