One quote:
It’s been over a month, and I am still not yet confident in how best to present my experiences with Classrooms without Borders in Poland. There’s no clear way to encapsulate the range of emotions, the vast horror of the Holocaust, the sensitive and skilled scholarship and care of every one of our guides. I shared some stories with my mom, as she had asked, and I immediately remembered this story.
A child asks a survivor, “Tell me what happened, tell me..” The survivor responds, “I will tell you once, but once I tell you, you may never get back out again.”
I think this is fair and considerate of the survivor… and my mom doesn’t want to talk about it anymore.
Two scenes:
- The Monument to Struggle and Martyrdom at Majdanek is impressive, massive, and deceptively cube-like from afar. Then, when you see how it’s positioned to center the ash memorial, it’s cruel and overwhelming – like the stories of this place. Following CWB’s memorial service, I walk closer to the Monument, and there’s a path that seems to draw me further down below the monument, as I try to look up at the sculpture. I am trying to steady my breathing, to remind myself that I am still here. I am so small in the face of it.
Hate and death that is industrialized, mass-produced, and at once clinical and scientific, and then haphazardly random, brutal, and personal. Where is the sense in this?
- We are knee-deep in our tour of Auschwitz, moving carefully and intellectually through the exhibits, pacing ourselves, and checking in with one another. The Museum’s guide allows a bathroom break midway down the row of barracks. I watch as one of our educators finds a patch of sunshine in some grass, where others are resting and waiting. She sits down and then lies down. I imagined and hoped she was able to exhale, collapse for a moment, think and feel for herself, not solely the care and education of the group. Being an expert in this field must be challenging and a complex responsibility, even in the simplest of times.
I am so grateful to all of the guides, scholars, and hosts on this trip, as it was so much more than a tour or educational program. I can’t imagine just touring on my own…showing up to Birkenau for a half-day visit, in between museums, spa days, or while visiting family? I would miss the gravity, all of the stories, all of the faces, all of the people.
Three sounds:
- The Mourner’s Kaddish in Yiddish at Treblinka, Majdanek, and Auschwitz – familiar sounds, yet now with strangers, fellow educators, travelers…it’s a prayer to express faith and hope, the oneness of G-d, and I still only hear it through tears.
- The cold wind and the crows at Majdanek. They shut me down completely, quiet terror.
- The voices on the bus of friends, educators, parents, and children unwinding…talk of lesson plans, recipes, card games, dating, candy, and alligators.