Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Will Wells' Poem for Bella

Event Horizon
for Bella Ouziel, June 25, 2014
In Ohio, she told her children her arm
tattoo was a phone number that she must
not forget, concerned the truth would alarm
and confuse them.  If that betrayed their trust,
so be it; they’d learn her story soon enough.
At Auschwitz, her legs had led her to the trash
where sneering guards would congregate to laugh
as she would gobble rotten scraps they’d stashed.

Of her family from Thessalonica,
only she survived.  Seven decades
later, she’s at home in America.
But neither ink nor memory fades.
Today she whispers in a microphone
and dials that number so the names live on.

Monday, July 21, 2014

A Mandate for Holocaust Education: Surprising interviews with Penn State College Students

You may remember this video from our first day of the seminar. In case you are interested in showing this to students or fellow teachers, I have posted it here. An update to that story is the passage of a bill "recommending" ( not requiring) Holocaust education in Pennsylvania. It's a start.  Link to that story is here.

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Pictures from our amazing week...

The pictures Casi took throughout the course of the week are currently uploading into our shared Resources folder (in Stuff We Add This Week), but, in the meantime, here are two of my favorites!

Enjoy the remainder of your summer "vacations!" 

Saturday, June 28, 2014

By: Stephanie DeStephen
Stolen today
From my home
Because they say I am
 “life unworthy of life.”
I am too young to even read a book,
yet they say I am inferior, stupid,
so I do not get the chance to see my potential.
I won’t get the chance to go to school,
to live out my childhood days playing, laughing, loving.
I sit here on this bus,
the windows covered
because they are hiding what they are doing
behind closed doors,
yet what these Germans are doing
is permeating
throughout the culture.
 Since they say
I am “life unworthy of life,
I am tested on like a rat
And thrown out like the trash.
The summer wind in 1941,
Should be sweet
Much like the childhood years
Should be
For most children,
However, the wind whispers
A different fate for me,
For I am “life unworthy of life.”
In fact, the whole town of Berlin
Should smell the wind,
For it whispers in the ears of Germans
Of the genocide
They want to ignore.
The black smoke
Vomiting from the chimney
Spews out the remains
Of us they are ashamed of,
Because we are
Supposedly “life unworthy of life.”
They will never know
The future I was capable of.
I could have
Lived happily among them
Created a family of my own,
Had a fruitful career.
I wanted to teach children,
You see.
I wanted to teach them
As my sweet mother taught me.
To respect your elders,
To not hate,
To love your neighbor,
To respect God
And the Earth he created for us,
Yet they say I am “life unworthy of life.”
So today,
As the bus stops on the corner of
Tiergartenstrasse 4
What they refer to as T4,
It is to be my last stop.
The “science” of racism
Will end my young life,
Because they think I am inferior, stupid.
Because they say I am “life unworthy of life.”
After I am used up for their “science” experiments,
I will choke on the gas that stings my lungs
And kills me.
But I will die knowing
Regardless of what they say
That I am
Life Worthy of Life.
I will die knowing
So much more about how to
Live, laugh, and love
Than they do
Even though I cannot even read a book myself,
I know that we need to
Not hate,
That we need to think of all people
As Life Worthy of Life.
And I die hoping that
Will figure this out.
My young legacy
Exits the chimney today
Filling the world with a smoke
As dark as the shame
They will feel
When they realize
What they lost.

For I am Worthy.

Katie's Project


Please take a few moments to complete an evaluation of your week with us. The Board of the Memorial Library, our sponsor, is always eager to obtain participants' feedback, as are we.

Thank you for spending a week of your summer with us; we hope it was time well spent.

You can access the online evaluation here: 2014 Seminar Evaluation.