A Teacher from Virginia takes the Facing History Journey

India Meissel is one of the 2004 Esther Goldman Teacher Award winners for Excellence in Holocaust Education. As part of her award, the Holocaust Commission of the United Jewish Federation of Tidewater, Virginia sponsored her attendance at the Facing History and Ourselves Summer Institute in Brookline, Massachusetts. Ms. Meissel, who has been in the profession for 18 years, currently teaches history at Lakeland High School in Suffolk, Virginia. The following are excerpts from her journal chronicling her institute experience.

Sunday August 1, 2004 - Day 1

I found myself at a crossroads even before this week began. You see, all the participants received advanced notification that we were to bring an artifact to the institute - something to define who we are, of importance to us, or celebratory of an important person/event in our lives. For me, that choice was very difficult; I do not see myself as easily identified by just one thing. And when we met to share ourselves through these artifacts, I really wondered why I had chosen what I did. Several of my colleagues had artifacts that related to family members who had been in the Holocaust, and others brought items that had been given to them on a special occasion by a family member. For me, the artifact was something that I had gained only hours before getting on the plane to go to Boston-the next level belt in my martial arts training. While quite an odd artifact, it has multiple meanings for me. On one level, it signifies the halfway point towards a black belt, an achievement in perseverance given that I have already suffered unrelated injuries to both shoulders. On another level, to become a black belt, one must honor one's family and spend time giving back to the community. Little did I realize that it would be towards that goal that my week's journey would carry me.

The first evening would become even more difficult for me. The Facing History journey carried us into a frank discussion of our own identity. For someone who was adopted at birth and has been searching for the past eighteen months for any relevant familial knowledge, identity was not something that I was ready - or willing - to face. But face it I did; we all did.

But just as quickly, the journey moved on to breakout sessions and additional group sessions regarding the role of the individual and society. During one video clip, students were having a roundtable session with Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel. One young lady, Eve Shalen, concluded a personal story about ostracism with the following statement: "Sometimes being accepted by others is more rewarding than accepting yourself."

How many times do people back off from their principals and seek acceptance by their peers when standing up for what they know to be right would make them outcasts? How many children have been ostracized because they weren't the best athlete, didn't live in the "right" neighborhood, or wear the "right" clothing? What about adults? How many adults have been subject to professional or personal ostracism because of their age, background or some other meaningless characteristic? What would happen if we actually took the time to get to know people before criticizing them, or worse yet, shunning them?

Monday August 2, 2004 - Day 2

We opened the morning with a frank discussion about what makes one an American. After realizing that there would be no easy answer to this question, we received several handouts regarding how different individuals and groups view themselves, and how they are in turn viewed by others. A quote from Rudyard Kipling, "All the people like us are we, and everyone else is they," began a very frank and honest discussion regarding the "we" and the "they" in our lives.

The afternoon session was one of the most powerful experiences that I have had in all of my years as an educator. Titled, "The Christian Roots of Antisemitism," the journey traced how anti-Semitic beliefs began in the medieval period. Professor Pamela Berger from the Boston College Fine Arts Department presented an absolutely fascinating session about antisemitism depicted in medieval iconography between 800 A.D. until around the 1400s.

As part of the debriefing that afternoon, we looked at a video documentary piece from The Longest Hatred. This clip traced anti-Semitic attitudes well into the time of the Reformation. I made a mental note to go to the Folger Shakespeare Library in Washington, D.C. to visit their Voices for Tolerance in an Age of Persecution exhibition before it closes at the end of October. The Folger exhibit should pick up where the video clip left off and take the anti-Semitic theme even further historically.

Today's journey began the historical portion of the Facing History week. The morning sessions dealt with the Weimar Republic (1919-1933) and how people fared within its domain. We were given a timeline, descriptive overview and excerpts from the Republic's constitution to discuss before watching a clip outlining a child's memories from life in the Republic. Then we proceeded to the computer lab to work in groups on Facing History's online Weimar Republic module looking at primary source documents of the Weimar Republic from the point of view of various key personalities from the era. After reviewing the module, groups compared personalities and discussed how each fared in the republic.

After lunch, the pathway moved to propaganda and obedience. Video clips from Cabaret and Triumph of the Will combined with an excerpt from Mein Kampf made for very lively discussion. However, it was the choral reading of "No Time to Think" (Holocaust and Human Behavior resource book, p. 189) that made the room go silent. This reading detailed how little incidents that at first are not shocking will increase in severity little by little (so that you continue not to be shocked by them) to the point at which the final, most horrific event comes along and we find ourselves either obedient to it, or immune to the shock of it all. We also entered into an excellent discussion of positive or "good" propaganda. The "Victory Garden" campaign of World War II comes to mind. However, at the end of the day, I left the room solemn from the thoughts and discussions of the afternoon. Many of us did.

Wednesday August 4, 2004 - Day 4

Some days you look forward to more than others, and this was one of them. I was very interested in seeing how all of the historical aspects in the "Twisted Road to Auschwitz" could be condensed into 1 ½ hours. Facing History Senior Program Associate Jan Darsa did a marvelous job of relating the history in a short, concise presentation, easily grasped by the adults in the room who are not historians.

The remainder of the morning was devoted to Sonia. Sonia Weitz, survivor and poet, came to share her story through both poems and testimony. She described how she and her sister, through what she called "dumb luck," were the only two out of the 84 members of their family (they stopped counting after that) who survived the Holocaust. Sonia's story was so thoroughly captivating, her poetry so moving, that when she finished almost two hours later, it was as if she had only been speaking for 15-20 minutes.

After lunch, we were given additional time to "decompress" - to walk through the park, take in the sights, and think about what Sonia's message meant for us. Upon our return, large sheets of paper had been placed on the wall in the front of the room. We were invited to share a "silent" conversation, writing out our thoughts on paper with room for additional comments, or "conversation." My "conversation" went as follows: Sonia's ‘selection'- her higher calling to live on, was to become a voice for the millions who could no longer speak. And what a powerful voice it is.

For the final session of the afternoon, we broke into interest groups to discuss the pedagogical approaches to teaching the Holocaust. I selected the group that would discuss genocides in other parts of the world, a topic that many of my students had shown a great deal of interest in during the spring semester. As we discussed the many aspects of what makes a genocide, one statement would stick with me for the rest of the evening: "by the time the term ‘genocide' is officially used, it is too late."

Thursday August 5, 2004 - Day 5

This would be an unusual three-part day, the last full day of the Institute. The morning session started off with a visit to the Pucker Art Gallery for a presentation of the artwork by Holocaust survivor Samuel Bak. Appropriately enough, a light rain fell as we walked through the Public Gardens to the gallery. Much of Bak's art focuses upon the examination of meaning for future generations of the loss of childhood innocence. We were challenged to engage ourselves in the quest to interpret these shapes without feeling compelled to search for one single meaning. I found Bak's "Return to Vilna" series most moving. In the painting, "Interruption" Bak's use of the broken teddy bear amongst several other childhood toys illustrates his own childhood, interrupted by the Nazi invasion of his homeland.

The early afternoon session dealt with Bystanders, Resisters, and Rescuers. Two video pieces really stood out in this session. The first one was a segment from 60 Minutes, titled The Bad Samaritan, about a young man, David Cash, who does nothing to stop his friend from sexually assaulting and murdering a seven year-old girl at a Las Vegas casino. While he witnessed events that led up to the crime, he said that he didn't realize what was about to happen, and therefore, was not guilty of any crime; and he held no responsibility for the girl's death. Students at Cal-Berkeley (where he was enrolled at the time of the taping) wanted him thrown out of the school. The question put to us was one of universal responsibility: Towards whom or what do we have a sense of obligation? Our responses were both heated and animated. The lively discussion went on for quite some time and was difficult to stop. But most importantly, it got us to feel. We were outraged and angry at everyone-from the father of the little girl who brought her to the casino, the two young men, the administration at Cal-Berkeley, and the district attorney's office in Nevada. How could all of these people just stand by and allow this to happen, but more importantly, to make the connection, how could people have just stood by and allowed the Holocaust to happen?

The second session would end on a more uplifting note with a clip from The Power of Good. This story relates how English businessman Nicholas Winton worked to rescue a total of 669 children on the Kindertransport to England before the fall of Czechoslovakia. He saw this as a business, and did not keep in touch with the children after they were placed in foster homes. In fact, no one knew of his wonderful deed until by chance one day his wife opened a "scrapbook" of the children who were saved. Piece by piece the story came out, and just acknowledgement was finally given to Sir Nicholas. We were left with the idea that there is nothing that can't be done if it is fundamentally reasonable.

Our night session was unique indeed. "Historical Memory and Legacy" was the topic, and as we returned to our tables, we were all provided with a grapefruit sized ball of clay and a sculpting knife. As we gave thought to the memorial we were asked to sculpt, we watched a video about Montgomery, Alabama's new Civil Rights Memorial designed by Maya Lin and how it came into being. Because I am not an artist, I found myself at a loss as to what to design. As I thought back through the lessons of the week, my memorial suddenly appeared in my thoughts. Titled, "Dumb Luck" after Sonia Weitz's presentation, it was a sculpture of two different and distinct images - a piece of barbed wire representing the camps, and a pair of dice representing good luck. One die is positioned on its edge precariously to show how luck can change in an instant. A discussion of the artwork in the "Facing History Gallery" would be the "Connections" portion of Friday morning's session. Looking at the various pieces as I left, I walked out eager to hear their stories.

Friday August 6, 2004 - Day 6

I entered the morning upbeat about the day's activities, but sad to see things coming to an end. The connections session was absolutely wonderful. Our gallery of sculptures was thought provoking to say the least, and the insights that prompted them were amazing.

Our first morning session connected to a "homework" assignment we had been given the first night of the Institute. We had been asked to read Simon Wiesenthal's The Sunflower. During the morning we worked our way through a "jigsaw" activity of responses to the book relating to its central theme: the possibilities and limits of forgiveness. Quite simply, you are a prisoner in a concentration camp. A dying Nazi soldier asks for your forgiveness. What would you do? For the activity, small groups each discussed the responses in the book from one of six different individuals from varying backgrounds, including the Dalai Lama, survivor Primo Levi, and Desmond Tutu. We then broke into new groups in which each response was discussed as a piece to the group's jigsaw puzzle of people. Still central to the discussion was our own thinking and feelings about the act of forgiveness. As in previous sessions, the discussion was lively.

The final topic for the institute was titled, "From Bystanders to Upstanders: Choosing to Participate." A quote from Walter Percy stood out for me. He wrote that, "you can get all A's and still flunk life." I immediately connected back to the 60 Minutes segment where the young man was defiant in staying at Cal-Berkeley because it was one of the country's best engineering schools. He might be getting an excellent education, but in my mind, he was certain to flunk life. Then I thought about students at the high school where I teach. Too many of them believe that "written" success equates to getting into a good college, which equates to getting a good job, which equates to having a good life. In my mind, they are missing out on an important part of life - the human aspect that really makes us who we are. It is up to me as an instructional leader and mentor to set the example, to encourage more of my students to become upstanders within their community.

So, almost as suddenly as it began, the week was over. I left filled with a sense of renewed faith in humanity. Personally, I left with a new sense of validity that what I was trying to do with my students year in and year out was indeed at least making a difference in our community.

What about my own journey? Time will not allow my quest to uncover my familial identity to continue, but progress towards a black belt will go forward. The lessons learned from the Institute will help me achieve this and assist me to become a better member of the community. The Facing History Institute was truly a remarkable experience, one that I will never forget.

India Meissel's clay memorial, entitiled "Dumb Luck." Ms. Meissel created the memorial after listening to writer, poet and Holocaust survivor Sonia Weitz.