Auschwitz

I visited Auschwitz today.  I know most of you have studied extensively about Auschwitz in your History classes.   As an art teacher, one of my jobs is to help my students find a personal connection and relevance to such content. How might I do that with a subject like this?

In my previous blog about the Warsaw Uprising Museum, I asked about how each of us might define our own character and how we might respond during one of those character defining moments. I also suggested that the regret we experience when we make poor choices can be used as a type of vaccine; to strengthen our character for the day we might face an even more significant test of character.  

One of my first stings of regret came to me when I was in third grade. My mother, sister and I moved a lot and it was difficult for me to make the transitions from school to school.  But, in third grade I made a good friend named Bobby who would help me with my lessons and was also a great teammate when we played baseball. Bobby lived about a block from me and when I first moved into the neighborhood he was my only friend. 

I eventually became friends with Ricky, whose home was behind mine. Ricky also had an older brother named Larry. Larry was in 8th grade so, all of us younger boys looked to him as a role model and source of what was "cool". 

One day Ricky and I were roaming the neighborhood with Larry and decided to sneak into the backyard of an older man and woman who had just moved into a home on our block. We were hiding in the bushes when the old man ran out of his back door; shouting for us to go away. The three of us ran quickly to Larry and Ricky's home.  Out of breath and laughing, Larry said, "that old Jew can't catch us."  

I had never heard that word before. I had no idea what a Jew was but, if Larry had said it, it had to be something cool to say.

The next Saturday morning, Ricky and I and every other boy in the neighborhood headed to the open lot to play baseball.  Bobby was there too as Ricky began telling the story of our narrow escape from the new neighbors' backyard. I quickly chimed in, "Yeah, those old Jews couldn't catch us."

A few days later I was playing with Ricky and some of the other boys and asked where Bobby was.  I was told Bobby didn't want to play with me because I had called him a Jew.  

Too late, I learned what a Jew was and that Bobby was Jewish.  Bobby never spoke to me again and we soon moved to another neighborhood but I still feel the sting of my regret for that thoughtless moment when I foolishly followed the lead of someone else.

Bobby probably doesn't even remember me. But, I will always remember him and feel the sting of regret for my thoughtless words. I feel shamed as I share this story but, I also know that I can chose to use this memory of my missteps as a corner stone for the building of a stronger character.  Yes, I will always remember Bobby and though my words offended him, he will be a source of humanity and strength to me.