The Night Before...

Here we are... one night before departure to Europe, a trip that will--no doubt--change my perspective on life and how I approach and teach the Holocaust unit at school.

So... there are two versions of me going on this trip.

The first  is the girl whose idea of a great vacation includes eating hotdogs straight off a stick from a campfire roast, living in a bathing suit for days on end collecting all remnants of fishing and boat adventures, and spending as little money as possible while sleeping on the ground in a tent.  I come from an amazingly crazy, loving, and hard-core family who have had an incredible life together.  More memories have been made on our yearly camping trips than any other hotel vacation ever (although who can forget the bidet incident in Montreal?).  We Drosdicks are no-frills kind of people.  If we have a place to sleep, some good food to eat, water, and enough space to be together on one camping site, we are pretty damn near perfectly content.  Although part of it probably stems from the fact that a vacation for a family of six is expensive, our camping vacations happened mostly in part because both my mom and dad grew up in nature and adventure-loving families (Mom's vacations were often long road trips).  Dad had probably slept on the same pine, sandy patch 30 years prior as his four little kids did.  (This has gone away on a tangent, but I'm going to leave it because my family is so darn awesome.)  So, the idea of spending over three grand on a vacation that includes dinner cruises, 4-star hotels, and restaurant meals is utterly new to me.

So there's that girl.  The girl who doesn't spend money on vacations and is perfectly happy to live out of a cooler and back pack.

And then, there's the teacher woman in me.  I am the oldest of four kids, in case you weren't aware, and have always loved playing that role of the eldest.  I was sitting those kids around with books and animals long before I knew that I wanted to be a teacher.  Never mind that I wouldn't realize I was born to be a teacher until high school.  During my student teaching at James Madison University, I spent eight weeks at a rural Virginia school teaching 8th grade.  When I was offered a position to teach there full-time the following fall after graduation, I didn't exactly jump at the offer.  Most of my friends would be graduated by that time and on their way to new locales and adventures.  I couldn't get a job in New Jersey, though, so I accepted the offer.  I had grown up in New Jersey and was, really, very clueless about life in rural Virginia.  So, when I issued an anticipation guide (a list of statements with which students agree or disagree prior to a unit and discuss their opinions) that challenged students to face their opinions of hate, racism, and forgiveness prior to my Anne Frank unit, I was horrified to see, face-to-in-my-face, the bigotry of some young minds in my classroom.  I had one class, mid-day, that is seared in my mind as the pivotal moment of my teaching career just a few months into my career.  It was the kind of class discussion that seeped over long into the next period's class, one that couldn't just be interrupted with a dismissive, "Off you go to class with those tears in your eyes and that hurt on your sleeve." That day, I was dealing with racism, hatred, and judgment.  I realized, and was told, that a teacher can change a life and somehow get in the middle of a serious life and change it.  At the end of the year, a student named Faun told me the biggest thing she had learned all year was "not to hate other people."  Later on, a student asked her hated father to be a part of her life a little bit more... a result of our study of hate in the Anne Frank unit.  Aside from the fact that I realized a teacher holds an incredible responsibility to humanity and our kids, I realized maybe I was approaching the Holocaust unit the wrong way.  Maybe, a person needs to be immersed in the beauty of humankind instead of the ugliness.  Maybe, when life kinda sucks for you, it's important to look at a far worse persecution and see how other people lightened loads of burden.

I don't know why that never occurred to me before.

After all, I had spent months living amongst those with lives most of us never want.  Spending time amongst and getting to know the homeless, vagrant, and poverty-ridden was what I had spent summers attending to.  While other high school students were going down the shore or working summer jobs, I was learning about the importance of not judging others based on stereotypes and labels.  Those mission trips with Touch the World taught me the importance of finding the sparks of humanity in others, and the importance of seeing the positive in spite of the glaring negatives.

Oh boy, do I write too much.  It feels so good to do it though, so I'm scratching that itch. :)

And so, back to the current teacher woman in me.  After a year in that rural Virginia school, I was hired in Mahwah for an 8th grade Language Arts position.  And... Anne Frank was part of the curriculum.  The angle that I've chosen to take since my experience in life and Augusta County was to focus on the beauty of day-to-day choices to do the right thing.  Now, our units focus on the heroes and heroines, the survivors and their courage...hope, the strength and power of positivity and helping others in any way that a person can. I go to this trip tomorrow with the goal of finding further proof that...

a- Maybe (some) historical lessons are more about what's not around anymore rather than what's right in front of us.
b-Good, strong people made what we see as tough decisions (but they see as no-choice decisions) during the Holocaust.
c- Heroes and heroines walk among us.  In fact, a dear friend (and best damn special educator) sent me an article about a woman who did more work that Schindler and just died in Warsaw.  I could have walked past her while I am there next week and would never have even known!

Truthfully, this isn't the ideal vacation.  Tourism websites don't say, "Must do.  Visit Auschwitz.  Great stop."  But, documenting this trip in photos and on this blog will magnify the learning experience that I bring to the classroom.  Sure, I'll be traveling and be immersed in some heavy stuff, but at the end of the day, I hope to sit down with new and old friends to debrief our day and thoughts.  Students always ask me if I've ever visited any of these places.  Now, I will be able to walk where Otto Frank walked as his girls were sent to Bergen-Belsen.  I will climb the very stairs that the Franks, VanPels, and Fritz Pfeffer treaded to hiding.  As I recommend books about the Warsaw ghetto, I will be able to retell the living proof of it. For the past two years, we have hosted a Holocaust survivor, Mr. Paul Galan.  Prior to his visit, my students complete a research project that culminates in a variety of activities that showcase the heroism and power of hope in Holocaust survivors and rescuers.  We always end up crying and I always have the surest of sure feelings that most kids are, truly, changed and impacted by the Holocaust unit.  Some of my most hesitant readers take Holocaust book suggestions and return the books, fully read, in a matter of days.  My Holocaust books ALWAYS come back.  It's like they understand the power of those texts and the importance of making them available to other kids.

(Oh yeah... and I'll be learning a lot about the cuisine options in Germany, Czech Republic, Poland, and Amsterdam while I am there, too.)

If you made it through that ramble, you are my simple hero/heroine of the day.  I'll be posting from my phone and KindleFire, so during-trip posts will not be as long.

Thanks for joining me on this journey!