UNIVERSITY OF CINCINNATI
Date:______
I, ______, hereby submit this work as part of the requirements for the degree of: in:
It is entitled:
This work and its defense approved by:
Chair: ______
Framing the Holocaust in English Class:
Secondary Teachers and Students
Reading Holocaust Literature
A dissertation submitted to the
Division of Research and Advanced Studies
University of Cincinnati
In partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of
DOCTORATE OF EDUCATION (Ed.D.)
Division of Teacher Education
College of Education, Criminal Justice, and Human Services
2005
Karen Spector
M.Ed., University of Florida, Gainesville, FL 1988
B.A. University of Florida, Gainesville, FL 1986
Dr. Chester Laine (Co-Chair)
Dr. Keith Barton (Co-Chair)
Dr. Annette Hemmings
Dr. Robert Burroughs
Dr. Deborah Hicks
Abstract
In this qualitative research study of three secondary school Holocaust literature
units in the Midwest, I examined responses from 3 teachers and 126 students as they
constructed the Holocaust in English class. The participants at the first site, Adams 2003,
were part of a middle class suburban community and were within a school with 98%
Whites. I returned to this site in 2004 to co-teach the Holocaust literature unit with the
teacher with a critical literacy focus. Over the two years, 91 8th grade students and 1
teacher participated in the study at Adams. The second site, River Hill 2004, was in a
high poverty urban center with 98% Blacks. The total number of participants at River
Hill was 35 10th graders and 2 teachers.
I spent 369 observational hours within the three schools, and I tape recorded class
sessions, small group discussions, and interviews with teachers and students. I also
collected all written or drawn artifacts that the students produced. I began analyzing data by looking for the narrative frames (Ricoeur, 1984, 1988) participants used to interpret the Holocaust. Within these frames, I used critical discourse analysis (Fairclough, 1995;
Gee, 1997; Rogers, 2004) to further analyze the data.
I found that teachers and 79 of 126 students at both schools used religious narrative frames to interpret Night (Wiesel, 1982), sometimes with lethal implications for
Jews. I also found that students at Adams in 2003 and 2004 used narratives of hope to interpret the The Diary of Anne Frank (Goodrich & Hackett, 1994). In order to maintain their hopeful narratives, students eviscerated Anne from her treacherous surroundings and even stashed her death in what Morris (2001) referred to as “memory holes.”
Students in all three units also enfigured Hitler as the sole, and demonic, perpetrator of
the Holocaust, enfigured Jews as sheep being led to the slaughter, and claimed to learn
368 different lessons. As for the teachers, they each wanted their students to learn lessons of tolerance through their study of the Holocaust, and none of the three teachers taught students the history of antisemitism before the 20th century.
All RIGHTS RESERVED
BY
KAREN SPECTOR
Copyright, 2005
Acknowledgments
Without my husband, Jerry, I never would have pursued this degree. Thank you for your loving support and for being willing to sleep with all the lights on as I wrote. My three sons Zach, Sam, and Caleb threw their backpacks off—in the entryway—and bounded up the stairs to my room every day after school to ask me, “Are you almost done with your dissertation?” The day I told them I had written my last chapter they jumped around for a minute, and then asked me for a snack—a little anticlimactic after all. All four of you make my life happy. I love you.
The members of my dissertation committee have supported my work for the last three years. I thank you not only for your support as committee members but for influencing me throughout my doctoral program. Annette, thank you for leading me on an exploration of social identity; Bob, for your year-long course that brought our cohort together to share research; Deborah, for a whole vista of new ideas, for critiques, and for support—always profoundly helpful and kind.
I would like to give special thanks to my Co-Chairs, Chet Laine and Keith Barton.
Chet, you are the kindest person I ever met and a man of great integrity. In addition to your tireless work with me throughout my time at the University of Cincinnati, you mentored me, supervised me, and strongly advocated for me within the department. I am fortunate to have worked so closely with you. Thank you. Keith, there is no one who has spent more time critiquing my work than you have. Your guidance and feedback always moved me in profitable directions that I hadn’t yet considered. I marvel at your ability to
do this through my various versions and revisions. I am extremely grateful to you for
your accessibility and incisive advice. One day soon you will stop getting emails with the reference line “Quick Question.” I hope! Thank you.
I would like to thank the Division for Research and Advanced Studies for giving
me the Distinguished Dissertation Fellowship for 2004-2005, which afforded me the
luxury of one unencumbered year in which to finish and write up my dissertation
research. And special thanks to Keith Barton and Richard Kretschmer who helped me in
the process of applying for the fellowship.
I have had the support of many friends, some helped with my children, baked me
brownies, or let me talk to them about my research. Many thanks to all of you but
especially to Alissa Ashworth, Mary Dwyer, Charlotte Schaengold, and Rachel Wolf.
To colleagues N.F. Louise, Stephanie Jones, and Lane Clarke—I am thankful for
all the chapter drafts you read of this dissertation and my earlier writing, your friendship, crazy train rides in San Diego, Sad Words, and “I get to…”. You made this whole adventure more worthwhile.
Without my fabulous teacher and student participants none of this would have been possible. You fearlessly let me into your rooms and into your thoughts. There is no thanks big enough for that great generosity. I also want to thank Holocaust survivors Si
F., Roma K., Annie Y., Matt Y., and Esther L. who shared their stories with me and whose own narrative frames pushed them to construct new and vibrant lives in the U.S. 1 Table of Contents
Chapter 1 Introduction: One May Think about the Unthinkable………………….2
Chapter 2: Research Review……………………………………………………..…..22
Chapter 3: Methods………………………………………………………………..…50
Chapter 4: Adams Context, Teachers, and Narrative Frames…………………….67
Chapter 5: River Hill Context, Teachers, and Narrative Frames………..….…...106
Chapter 6: God on the Gallows: Students’ Religious Responses to Night………150
Chapter 7: Anne Could Frolic at Bergen-Belsen: Excising Frames of Horror,
Incising Frames of Hope...... 187
Chapter 8: Elements of Narrative Framing: Enfiguring Hitler, Asking Questions,
Learning Lessons……….………………………………………….…...220
Chapter 9: Narratively Framing the Holocaust in English Class………………..254
References……………………………………………………….………………..…280
Appendices...... 304
2
Chapter 1
One May Think about the Unthinkable
Not only may one think about the unthinkable, but perhaps even more important, one may think about how people think about the unthinkable.
~Gottlieb (1990, p. 349)
Words are too awful an instrument for good and evil to be trifled with: they hold above all other external powers a dominion over thoughts. Language…is a counter-spirit, unremittingly and noiselessly at work to derange, to subvert, to lay waste, to vitiate, and to dissolve.
~Wordsworth, Essays Upon Epitaphs (1974, pp. 84-85)
It is curious how little effort has gone into discovering how humans come to construct the social world and the things that transpire therein.
~Bruner, The Narrative Construction of Reality (1991, p. 4) 3 Anneliese Leopold Yosafat was only five when she and her parents went into hiding in Germany in 1942. In a second floor apartment where one of her rescuers lived,
Anneliese had to sit quietly on the bed, day and night, for six weeks.
She actually remembers this hiding place as happy because she spent all day with her parents, and her mother read to her for hours at a time. One day, the world her parents had created for her was torn apart. The family heard the loud rapping of rifle butts on the door in a bottom apartment. Anneliese saw the terror in her parents’ eyes. Without a word, her mother scooped her up, and they all hid under the bed, completely silent and still. Soon the door to their rescuers’ apartment flew open. Next, the door to their room was shoved open. Anneliese saw one black leather boot of the Nazi who paused briefly in front of her line of vision as he walked heavily from one end of the room to the next. That is all she could see from beneath the bed.
Anneliese told me this story when I interviewed her for a Yom ha Shoah
(Holocaust Remembrance Day) exhibit in 2002.1 I began to think of this small part of
Anneliese’s story as a good metaphor for secondary students studying the Shoah in public
schools. Because of the inherent difficulties of historical and literary representation
(Ezrahi, 1992; Rosenfeld & Greenberg, 1978; White, 1981; White, 1992), added to
teacher and student perspectives derived from cultural and social discourses that
constrain vision, students of the Holocaust are always left with a partial view, a boot instead of the whole man.
1 “Shoah” is the Hebrew word meaning destruction and refers to the events from 1933-1945 which resulted in the annihilation of 6,000,000 Jews. I will use “Holocaust” and “Shoah” interchangeably in this dissertation.
4 Research Questions
In this project, I investigate three questions: 1) Through what narrative frames do teachers and students read the Holocaust? 2) How do teachers and students construct historical actors and the Holocaust itself through Holocaust literature units? and 3) How do these responses and other social constructions afford and constrain Holocaust lessons, particularly the project of teaching tolerance?
The way in which teachers and students take up particular stories of the
Holocaust, and how they interpret Holocaust literature and its overarching referent, the
Holocaust itself, is the broad landscape of my work. To some, this goal may seem profane. As Lang (2005) argued, on the one hand, “…the facts speak for themselves in the enormity of systematic genocide, leaving nothing over to interpret, nothing to ponder or contest” (p. xi). Yet it is readily apparent that in art, literature, film, and history, people do ponder and contest, not the facticity of Holocaust events themselves, but how the events are represented and what they come to mean in practice. In this dissertation I look at how teachers and texts sway students to construct particular meanings of the Holocaust and at the role that narrative frames have in privileging certain interpretations over others, of affording or constraining teacher and student thinking (Wertsch, 1998; Wertsch, 2002).
I present to the reader what the teachers and students in this study reveal about the universal condition of being human as they ponder and contest the particular experiences and perspectives of Holocaust victims, perpetrators, and bystanders in secondary English classrooms. The arguments in this dissertation, then, are particular, grounded in specific teachers’ and students’ experiences with Holocaust literature in English classes. This 5 particularity in no way limits the universal ethos with which some teachers and students imbue Holocaust meaning. Throughout I use the past tense when referring to what students and teachers thought and said, as Gutierrez and Rogoff (2003) have suggested, so that I don’t freeze my participants immutably but invest them with all of their potential for change in the future.
Purpose and Significance
Holocaust literature units are ubiquitous in English classrooms across the country.
Holocaust education in general is mandated or stipulated in content standards in 33 states, and at least 5 states mandate or require that the Holocaust be taught in English classrooms (USHMM, 2004). Even though the Holocaust is not a requirement in English classrooms in Ohio public schools, where my research is located, a recent survey of teachers in southwest Ohio showed that 899 (99.1%) of the 907 teachers surveyed replied that literature and reading classes are appropriate places to address Holocaust education
(University of Cincinnati Evaluation Services Center, 2003). The plethora of online materials for teaching Anne Frank: Diary of a Young Girl (Frank, 1952), Night (Wiesel,
1982), and Maus (Spiegelman, 1991) also attest to the popularity of these texts in classrooms across the U.S.
Over twelve years ago at the 1993 Annual NCTE Convention, a committee for teaching about genocide and intolerance in English classrooms was formed (Danks &
Rabinsky, 1999; NCTE, 1993). The purpose of this committee, according to their mission statement was: 6 to develop and submit for publication materials on the literature of genocide and
intolerance, to include in the materials components such as compilations of
resources (e.g., bibliographies, visual media, lists of agencies and associations)
and materials on how to teach pertinent literary works. (Danks & Rabinsky, 1999,
p. vii)
As their rationale, the committee argued that since intolerance is learned, then teachers have an obligation to “work…to reduce, if not eliminate, prejudices we find both in ourselves and in our students” (p. vii). At first, the focus of this committee was on teaching about the Holocaust, but soon the purview was widened to “include a variety of issues relating to intolerance and genocide” (p. vii). Over the next six years, guidelines and resources were compiled for teaching about, among other things, the Holocaust, the
Ukrainian famine, racism, homophobia, the Salem Witch trials, multiethnic literature,
Native Americans, Hispanic Americans, Asian Americans, African Americans, ageism, and sexism. The product, Teaching for a Tolerant World (Danks & Rabinsky, 1999), was a compilation of essays on how to teach the literature of victimization “geared toward teaching acceptance and valuing others” (p. 2) in a way that ultimately “offers hope for our society” (p. 276). This is by no means an ideologically-neutral statement, but is culturally filtered and has become for many the guiding principle of Holocaust emplotment, as the NCTE mission statement and the teachers in my study exemplify.
Additionally, since 1993, at least 35 articles have been published in Language Arts and
English Journal that relate to teaching about the Holocaust in particular or social justice and tolerance in general. 7 The rationale for such Holocaust education units is often based upon the assumption that studying the Shoah somehow makes students more tolerant or instills other moral lessons (Schweber, 1999). For example, both the California and Florida bills mandating Holocaust education expect that it will help students tolerate diversity and learn other moral lessons (Geiss, 1997; State of Florida, 2004). In the same survey of teachers in southwest Ohio mentioned earlier, 857 (99%) of the 866 teachers surveyed in the Midwest said that one of the benefits of exposure to Holocaust education was learning tolerance and acceptance of others, and 852 of 869 respondents, or 98%, believed that another benefit of Holocaust education was valuing and appreciating diversity
(University of Cincinnati, 2003). These beliefs, which seem apparent to so many, can lead to problems. For example, a teacher who brought his class to see Schindler’s List
(Spielberg, 1993) was publicly embarrassed when his students erupted in laughter and engaged in interactive viewing during the film. Schweber (1999) noted, “He assumed that the importance of the Holocaust was self-evident, that its moral lessons were so salient as to require no teaching” (p. 5). Even organizations dedicated to teaching about the
Holocaust purport that through the “educational use” of their videotaped testimonies people will “overcome prejudice, intolerance, and bigotry—and the suffering they cause”
(Survivors of the Shoah Visual History Foundation, 2004).
Despite widespread consensus that the Holocaust teaches these kinds of moral lessons, Schweber (1999) found that historical representations of the Holocaust and the implicit or explicit moral lessons conveyed in the classroom are not straightforward.
While there is ample evidence that suggests people hope the Holocaust teaches moral 8 lessons, there is little evidence that demonstrates how the lessons emerge or are picked up from the various representations that teachers and students construct. Stotsky (1999) warns her readers about the dangers of using Holocaust literature to teach lessons of morality:
It is stunning that educators have chosen to promote the teaching of an extremely
difficult topic in the schools (because of its horrifying details and religious roots),
not as such a topic would be addressed as part of a course in European history or
in a work of literature, but as part of an effort to advance their students’ moral
education. This is a highly problematic decision because there are no published
studies whatsoever providing evidence that studying the Holocaust does in fact
make students more tolerant of religious and ethnic differences. (p. 205)
Stotsky is obviously discounting the numerous studies done by the organization Facing
History and Ourselves (Stern-Strom & Parsons, 1982) and others who were closely affiliated with FHAO (Bardige, 1983, 1988; Fine, 1995), and this body of research has little to say about the practice of teaching Holocaust literature units in English classrooms anyway (for a full review, see Chapter 2)2. In fact, there have been only three empirical
studies of Holocaust literature units in English classrooms: Wegner (1996), Schweber and
Irwin (2003), and Hernandez (2004)—and two of the three suggest serious shortcomings.
Wegner’s (1996) participants found a wide array of social issues for which the Holocaust
could provide lessons. Interestingly, a social issue never mentioned by the students was
2 FHAO stands for the Stern-Strom and Parsons curriculum Facing History and Ourselves, originally published in 1982. 9 antisemitism. Schweber (2003) found that students in her study tended to exoticize Jews rather than come to appreciate or understand them.
Many books that in whole or in part also relate to teaching the Holocaust in
English classrooms have recently been published—Davies (2000), Felman & Laub
(1992), Hirsch & Kacandes (2004), Totten (2001a, 2001b), and Totten & Feinberg
(2001). None of these publications contains an empirical study of teaching the Holocaust in English classrooms. While a great deal has been written about the Holocaust from what I loosely call a cultural studies framework (e.g., Felman & Laub, 1992; Flanzbaum,
1999; Friedlander, 1992; Lang, 2005; Novick, 1999; Simon, Rosenberg, & Eppert, 2000;
Rubenstein & Roth, 2003; Stone, 2003), it is time to undertake the task of finding out how teachers and secondary students take up Holocaust stories through their unique cultural location and through the narratives that already guide their lives (Ricoeur, 1984,
1988).
My Subjectivity
Throughout this dissertation, I emphasize the narrative frames of my participants, so it is important to declare my own subjectivity. I am not Jewish. Many people assume I am because of my subject matter and perhaps because of my last name, which is
Jewish—a gift from my husband. I haven’t always been deeply interested in the
Holocaust. In fact, I stumbled upon it, so to speak, when I was assigned to teach a section of Freshmen Composition in 2000 at a two-year college. The Holocaust was one of the
“themes” from which I could choose—it strikes me as odd to think of the Holocaust as a theme now—and not knowing much about it, but having the strong conviction that it was 10 important and could convey important lessons, I began researching the Shoah in preparation for my upcoming course. The effect of my reading was visceral. The course went well, though it was not without its share of surprises—students who never heard of the Holocaust, a student who thought it was all a hoax, antisemitic rhetoric, and religiously-based frames of reference that severely limited student engagement with the material. Since that first class, I met and interviewed many Holocaust survivors in the
U.S., explored my interest in how narrative frames influence Holocaust construction, and began the doctoral program which led to this dissertation.
Structure of the Dissertation
This study examined 3 different Holocaust literature units in secondary English classrooms and explored how meaning was made through the interplay of different
Holocaust representations and various teacher and student narrative frames that influenced interpretations. One talented junior high teacher, Mrs. Parker at Adams Junior
High in 2003, and one talented high school teacher, Ms. France at River Hill Academy in
2004, generously invited me into their classrooms as they explored Holocaust literature with their students. Mrs. Parker invited me back into her classroom in 2004 to co-teach some aspects of the unit with her, this time with a critical literacy focus. In this third unit, students examined how the Holocaust texts and representations influenced their thinking.
Chapter 2 is a research review of empirical studies related to two threads of inquiry: Holocaust units in social studies classrooms and teaching and learning literature within a critical frame. My study lies between these two bodies of research. I discuss my research methods in Chapter 3, and I take a close look at the narrative frames that 11 influence the larger communities, schools, and teacher and student discourses at Adams and River Hill in Chapters 4 and 5. In Chapter 6, “God on the Gallows,” I examine students’ religious responses to Night (Wiesel, 1982). The construction of Anne Frank at
Adams in both 2003 and 2004 is the focus of Chapter 7, and Chapter 8 explores enfiguring Hitler, the questions students asked, and the lessons they say they learned during all three units. The final chapter is a discussion of the previous 5 chapters of findings. Each of these chapters (4-8) can stand alone, so if the reader is only interested in
Anne Frank, for instance, she could simply read that findings chapter, though Chapter 4 would provide a thick context for understanding the teacher and students at Adams.
Theoretical Framework
The idea of “narrative frame” undergirds the conceptual space from which I observed the Holocaust units and within which I analyzed and explained my findings. For my participants, narrative frames made some information they read salient and other ideas and details insignificant, straining out, as a gold miner would, the dirt in search of precious metal. Another function of narrative frames requires a different metaphor than the miner panning for gold. A window provides a view to the outside, as the narrative frame provides one person or a collective an aperture that may embellish, distort, or obscure from view that which could otherwise be seen differently though another window. The theoretical “narrative frame” of which I speak is not solitary, but coexists with other and even conflicting frames, any one of which is more or less mutable in its constitution, its transience or stability affected by one’s level of commitment to it and the degree to which one is aware that it is a tool. 12 What is a narrative frame?
Narrative frame is a sociocultural conception that mediates meaning (Wertsch,
1998; Wertsch, 2002). Ricoeur’s (1988) theory of narrative identity produced by the circle of three-fold mimesis (prefiguring, configuring, and refiguring) provides the basic structure. Within this theory, an individual is informed by the “semantics of desire” to prefigure a narrative. Since except for the Biblical Adam, people are born into existing social practices (Bakhtin, 1986), the semantics of desire do not only stem from immediate physical needs, but from desire fabricated from social cloth (other configurations). The other elements of Ricoeur’s theory, configuring and refiguring, “stem from the endless rectification of a previous narrative by a subsequent one” (Ricoeur, 1988, p. 248). These rectifications lead to different narrative frames. A basic attribute of any narrative frame is this mutability. According to Ricoeur, the narrative identity of a person or group is not unchanging, and even through lesser and seismic changes can be recognized as being itself. This allows for a considerable amount of agency on the part of the individual or group over time, unchained as they are to rigid frames that have constituted them. The degree of mutability within frames or the degree to which one can substitute one frame for another depends upon the threat to individual or group identity commitments that various events pose (Wertsch, 2002). Zealous commitment to particular narrative frames creates an impatience with ambiguity and resistance to change (Novick, 1999; Seixas,
2000; Wertsch, 2002; cf. Beach, 1997, 2004; Hines et al., 1997). On the other hand, recognition that narrative frames are cultural tools, and that many perspectives have coexisted in the past, as well as in the present, may facilitate frame shifts in students 13 (Barton & Levstik, 2004; Beach et al., 2004; VanSledright, 2002) and free “narrative frame” for use as a scientific concept (Vygotsky, 1978).
Narrative frame is a way of conceptualizing students’ lived worlds and the representations that lived worlds and text worlds coproduce. Critical literacy engagement, which has been defined in many ways over the last decade (Comber, 1998, 2001;
Comber, Cormack, & O’Brien, 1998; Comber & Simpson, 2001; Hicks, 2002; hooks,
1994, 1996; Janks, 2001; Jones, 2004; Lankshear & McLaren, 1993; Luke & Freebody,
1996), is conceived of within the context of this study as beginning with local practices within the community and school (Chapters 4 and 5) and continuing through the deconstruction of texts (Comber, Cormack, & O’Brien, 1998; Lankshear & McLaren,
1993) and teacher and student reflectivity on the narrative frames that affect the taking up of lived worlds and text worlds.
What is the purpose of a narrative frame?
A narrative frame imposes order on the world. People can’t possibly attune to every detail that accosts them; in fact, people who attune to too much or too little are considered mentally ill. A narrative frame then serves to direct attention to what is valued. Holland, Lachicotte, Skinner, & Cain’s (1998) “figured world” is analogous to
“narrative frame.” They explain that a figured world is a simplified world that is a “socio- historic, contrived interpretation that mediates behavior and so…informs participants’ outlooks” (p. 52). Narrative frames act as selection devices for what sorts of events and details are noteworthy. In this way, the narrative frame is teleological, pointing toward some purposeful conclusion. Wertsch (2002) argues that “a crucial fact about narratives 14 as cultural tools is that they make it possible to carry out the ‘configurational act’ required to ‘grasp together’ (Ricoeur, 1981, p. 174) sets of temporally distributed events into interpretable wholes or plots” (p. 57).
Since my study deals with Holocaust literature, there is a danger of confusing
“narrative frame” with the literary narratives that students read or viewed. Though each text is produced through the perspective of its author, I don’t refer to the text itself as a narrative frame; however, texts can and do push students toward picking up particular narrative frames and do advance particular representations of Holocaust events. Further, it is important to note that a narrative frame used to write one’s own biography is not substantially different than a narrative frame used to write the history of WWII; hence, historians can and do emplot the past and enfigure historical actors, just as individuals do with their own lives.
Emplotment. Barton and Levstik (2004) define narrative as “a chain of causally- linked events” (p. 188), and these narratives help children and historians alike identify and explain patterns that make sense of the past. Assembling this chain of causally-linked events is referred to as emplotment. Various emplotments of the Holocaust create different representations (Schweber, 2004); for example, stories that end with liberation or over-emphasize rescue can reinforce lessons of man’s triumph over evil, instead of a dark realization of man’s depravity (Morris, 2001).
Historical actors. The prevailing characterizations of historical actors that teachers and texts make available to students also contribute to the overall representation of the Holocaust, according to Schweber (2004), who found a continuum from individual 15 to collective representations of historical actors. These characterizations of historical actors are called enfigurings. Arendt (1977), for example, in Eichmann in Jerusalem: A
Report on the Banality of Evil, enfigured Eichmann as a mid-level bureaucrat who without malice sent hundreds of thousands of Hungarian Jews to their deaths by organizing trainloads of human cargo bound for Auschwitz.
Lessons. The construction or adoption of a narrative frame emplots the past and enfigures historical actors, and doing this “requires a double construction: of a present from which to launch an inquiry, and of a past to serve as a possible object of investigation” (White, 1999, p. 2). In this way, a present in need of tolerance could reach back to the Holocaust, enfigure and emplot it in such a way as to be an object lesson in tolerance. White (1999) argues that all historical narratives are ultimately inspired by this kind of moral meaning.
Where do narrative frames come from?
Narrative frames come from every corner of social life: from families (Brice-
Heath, 1983; Hicks, 2002; Jones, 2004; Rose, 1989; Willis, 1977), groups (Holland,
Lachicotte, Skinner, & Cain, 1998; Lave, 1991), nations and cultures (Barton & Levstik,
2004; Foner, 1998; Geertz, 1972; Wertsch, 2002), and religions, races, classes, and genders (Arnot, 2002; Davies, 1993; Dutro, 2002; hooks, 1996; Rubenstein, 1995;
Soulen, 1996; Walkerdine, 1990), to name a few places. There are different orders of narrative frames, some are dominant and are reproduced within larger social institutions like schools, churches, political organizations, and governments (Fairclough, 1995; Gee,
1999; Rogers, 2004). Another way to think of narrative frame is to link it to Gee’s (1996) 16 concept of Discourses. A narrative frame or “figured world” (Holland et al., 1998), like a
Discourse, makes sense of particular behaviors or events, becomes a backdrop against which to examine and evaluate what is going on in the world.
How do narrative frames influence people’s encounters with the world?
Because narrative frames simplify, emplot, enfigure, and order, they both afford and constrain meaning-making and understanding (Wertsch, 1998). Without them we wouldn’t be able to make sense of experiences—they would simply multiply. We wouldn’t be able to cull, distill, or synthesize; yet when we apply any one or any set of narrative frames, we are necessarily leaving something out and are therefore accentuating, distorting, or obscuring what is.
An Example of Narrative Frame
The “proper” emplotment of what was to become known as the Holocaust, the roles of historical actors, and the lessons that they teach were argued even in the midst of the war itself and continue to be maneuvered to this day (Novick, 1999). Issues arising from emplotments are the chief sources of academic “conversations” swirling around in the scholarly community. And there are several conversations when it comes to the
Holocaust: uniqueness (Gregory, 2000; Katz, 1994; Rosenbaum, 1996), comprehensibility (Friese, 2001; Reichman, 2001; Wiesel, 1978), and Americanization
(Flanzbaum, 1999; Novick, 1999)—all of which deal with Holocaust emplotment, enfiguring, and lessons.
Looking back at the history of the Holocaust to lay claim to its uniqueness is an example of how a narrative frame today can shape the way the past is read. The same is 17 true for people who look back in history to challenge the notion that the Holocaust is unique. Briefly exploring just two chapters from Rosenbaum’s Is the Holocaust Unique?
(1996) will provide a rough sketch of only two positions regarding the question of uniqueness. In Steven Katz’s chapter, “The Uniqueness of the Holocaust: The Historical
Dimension,” he explains why the case of the Native Americans, the Ukrainian famine, and the Armenian genocide are dissimilar to the Holocaust. For the purpose of this example, I will focus only on Katz’s argument regarding indigenous people of the New
World. He acknowledges that they were “the subject of exploitation, despoilation, rape, violence, and murder since the arrival of Columbus” (p. 20), but he argues that genocidal policies were not the primary cause of death in the various Native American populations;
European diseases were. Conversely, he claims that Hitler’s Final Solution constituted genocide because every Jewish man, woman, and child was targeted for murder. Katz goes on to argue that Indian wars in the 1850s and 1860s,
were fought not to exterminate the Indians outright but rather to break their
serious and continued resistance to removal to reservations. The federal
government and the U.S. Army sought to crush Indian autonomy, eradicate Indian
territorial attachments, put an end to the extremely expensive Indian Wars, and
reduce the Indians to a subservient and acquiescent mode of behavior that would
allow the national authorities to dictate the sociopolitical, economic, and
existential conditions of Indian life. (p. 26)
He concludes the section on Native Americans by saying that genocide was never the aim of the U.S. government toward indigenous people. Hence, atrocities in the New World 18 are unlike atrocities that comprise the Holocaust.
David Stannard, in the chapter entitled “Uniqueness as Denial: The Politics of
Genocide Scholarship,” decries the work of Holocaust deniers as “malignant,” and goes on to argue that Jewish scholars claiming that the Holocaust is unique use the same tactics as Holocaust deniers in an effort to minimize the human suffering caused by other atrocities. He blames Jewish scholars like Deborah Lipstadt and Yehuda Bauer for labeling as antisemitic anyone who dares to compare the Holocaust to other
“conflagrations.” The rest of his chapter focuses upon how the Holocaust is not unique.
The Holocaust does not hold the record for the most victims or greatest ratio of victims to surviving population; indigenous American peoples do. Nazis, according to Stannard, did not kill their victims with unequalled rapidity; the “vaporizing, in virtually a single nuclear instant, of more than 200,000 innocent Japanese civilians in Hiroshima and
Nagasaki” far exceeds the 10,000 victims a day reached at the height of murders in
Auschwitz (p. 172). Stannard argued that Jews largely died of “natural” causes
(starvation, exhaustion, disease brought on by deplorable living conditions); indigenous
American peoples were also largely victims of disease brought on by European microbes against which indigenous peoples had no immunity. Hence, atrocities in the Americas were quite like, and even worse, than the atrocities that comprise the Holocaust.
This nasty bit of academic combat waged by two scholars is an example of how narrative frame influences readings of the past. Katz and Stannard assemble the events of the past to support the judgments at which they have already arrived. Though necessarily reductive, it can be said that both Katz’s and Stannard’s arguments advance political 19 agendas for which each, respectively, is a stakeholder. Of course, at one level, this debate is absurd because all historical events are unique (Novick, 1999). At another level, however, whether or not the Holocaust is conceived of as unique may have very real implications for people today. For instance, it may influence what is taught to school children.
Just like these historians, teachers’ and students’ values, norms, and beliefs affect the construction of the Holocaust in English classes. And to make things more difficult, some people, including Langer (1975), Ezrahi (1992), Felman (1992), Reichman (2004), and Wiesel (1978) have claimed that new narrative frames are necessary in order communicate the unthinkable and incomprehensible. Reichman (2004) explains the situation:
With the overflow of trauma and the urgent problem of articulating the
unspeakable after the Holocaust, old forms—both rhetorical and
epistemological—have become defunct and painfully one-dimensional; they can
no longer contain what they need—or are expected—to hold. (p. 29)
Old frames are defunct, according to Reichman, yet the regnant discourses of the Western world (the very ones that mediated the Holocaust in the first place) are very much alive and well. Bauman (1990) quoted Joseph Weizenbaum:
Germany implemented the “final solution” of its “Jewish Problem” as a textbook
exercise in instrumental reasoning. Humanity briefly shuddered when it could no
longer avert its gaze from what had happened, when the photographs taken by the
killers themselves began to circulate, and when the pitiful survivors re-emerged 20 into the light. But in the end, it made no difference. The same logic, the same cold
and ruthless application of calculating reason slaughtered at least as many people
during the next twenty years as had fallen victim to the technicians of the
thousand-year Reich. We have learned nothing. Civilization is as imperilled [sic]
today as it was then. (p. 115)
So while old frames may be theoretically defunct, according to Weizenbaum, the same
“cold and ruthless” reason is at work. And, as Bruner (1986, 1990, 1991) has pointed out, narrative is a form that not only represents but constructs reality. He argues, as does
Ricoeur, that “we organize our experience and our memory of human happenings mainly in the form of narrative—stories, excuses, myths, [and] reasons for doing and not doing” that are culturally transmitted (p. 4). Looking at the way that students of today narratively construct the Holocaust is even more important given these issues: 1) the possibility that old frames can’t contain the Holocaust, 2) the same “Western mindset” that gave birth to the Holocaust still exists, and 3) the stories we tell about Jews have not really changed.
This study examines language that “unremittingly and noiselessly [is] at work to derange, to subvert, to lay waste, to vitiate, and to dissolve” (Wordsworth, 1974, pp. 84-85) the
Holocaust into consumable chunks. Holocaust units are packaged by English educators in the U.S. as a means for distributing lessons of tolerance, which is in itself a narrative frame. It is time to see how students think about the unthinkable (Gottlieb, 1990), like
Anneliese peering out from beneath the bed and seeing only a boot. 21 Summary
Holocaust literature is ubiquitous in secondary English classrooms, and it is sanctioned by many, including NCTE, as being the purveyor of important “lessons of tolerance”; however, the scant empirical research on Holocaust literature units points to potential problems with such units. For example, students claim to learn many antiracist lessons, but learning about the dangers of antisemitism—in particular—and coming to know and appreciate Jews were not among them (Schweber and Irwin, 2003; Wegner,
1996). There is little theoretical or practical explanation based upon empirical research regarding the manner in which students take up the Holocaust.
Ricoeur’s theory of narrative identity (1984, 1988) undergirds the conceptual space from which I view teachers’ and students’ constructions of the Holocaust.
“Narrative frame” is a sociocultural conception that mediates meaning, the purpose of which is to impose order on the world. Zealous commitment to particular narrative frames creates impatience with ambiguity and resistance to change, but narrative frames, individual or collective, can and do shift over time.
Both text worlds and lived worlds are emplotted toward some telos that reflects back upon the narrative as a whole. Enfigurings, emplotment, and lessons are all aspects of narrative frame that come to us from every corner of social life and reproduce and are reproduced by the social realm. It has been argued that the old frames can not contain events like the Holocaust. This study explores the frames teachers and students use to construct the Holocaust and the limitations and affordances of such frames in teaching and learning. 22
Chapter 2
Research Review
No theoretical position can exist in isolation: any conceptual framework for literary criticism has implications which stretch beyond criticism itself to ideology and the place of ideology in the social formation as a whole. Assumptions about literature involve assumptions about language and about meaning, and these in turn involve assumptions about human society.
~Belsey (1980, p. 29)
Our cultural frames of reference and our preexisting categories which delimit and determine our perception of reality have failed both to contain and to account for the scale of what has happened in contemporary history.
~Felman (1992, p. xv)
Only three empirical studies of Holocaust literature units exit—Hernandez (2004),
Schweber and Irwin (2003) and Wegner (1996); therefore, this research review includes:
1) studies of Holocaust education, mostly in social studies classrooms; and, 2) studies of 23 the interplay between literature, student or teacher cultural location, and student responses (nearly all of these studies involve multicultural literature).3 At the
convergence of these two threads of research, the present study is positioned.
Holocaust Education Studies
Questions
Largely set in social studies classrooms, all of the Holocaust education studies examined student responses to the Holocaust units (Bardige, 1983, 1988; Brabeck et al.,
1994; Carrington & Short, 1997; FHAO, 1993; Fine, 1995; Glynn, Bock, & Cohn, 1982;
Lieberman, 1981, 1986; Schweber, 1999, 2004; Schultz, Barr, & Selman, 2001; Short,
1994, 2000); however, the main focus of Schweber’s study was not student responses, but upon curriculum. Seven studies investigated only FHAO classrooms, while two studies,
Schweber (1999, 2004) and Glynn, Bock, and Cohn (1982), investigated FHAO and three other curricula each. If not the only, then at least one question in every single Holocaust study dealt with morality, tolerance, or lessons. Since these kinds of moral gains are the focus of FHAO, it is not surprising. The questions in my study most closely align with
Schweber’s (1999, 2004), except I fully examine how teachers’ and students’ narrative frames and the texts themselves construct the Holocaust. Schweber focused upon curriculum, and I focus more broadly on how students and teachers meet the Holocaust at the point of language. Like all the others, I asked about the prosocial potential of
Holocaust education, but not with the assumption of its presence, as others, especially
3 The FHAO curriculum includes many pieces of literature and is taught in some English classrooms. Bardige (1983, 1988) includes data from a class in which the guidance teacher taught and the English and Social Studies teachers served as aides; Fine (1995) takes place in an interdisciplinary unit; Schultz, Barr, and Selman (2001) includes students who participated in the FHAO curriculum via their English classes. 24 stake-holders in FHAO did. In my study, evidence of “moral gains” is scrutinized through a process that seeks to separate mere rhetoric from an actual change in cultural location or narrative identity. Multiple data types triangulate my data toward this end.
Examining moral lessons appears to be the sine qua non of Holocaust research.
What would research look like if it did not presume to find lessons of tolerance or prosocial thinking, but instead just looked to see what it did find? I address this overwhelmingly present assumption in all other studies and in the public opinion in general by purposely setting it aside as I observed classes and collected data. When I found what looked like tolerance or prosocial thinking, I tested it against other data I had for that student in order to rule out the “politically correct rhetoric effect” that is probably working in many of the studies I review in this chapter.
Settings, Populations, and Sampling Procedures
All of the social studies research took place in junior high or high schools, most frequently in the 8th grade (probably because FHAO was designed for the 8th grade). A
majority of the studies also took place within the Northeastern United States, with two
studies in the U.K. (Carrington & Short, 1997; Short, 1994) and one in Canada (Short,
2000). Convenience sampling was the rule in most of the studies, with the obvious caveat
that a Holocaust unit was requisite. Troubling are the sampling procedures for many of
the FHAO studies (Bardige, 1983, 1988; FHAO, 1993; Lieberman, 1981,1986; Schultz
Barr, & Selman, 2001) because positive evaluations stood to enhance the public perception of the curriculum and benefit the FHAO Resource Center. I am not suggesting that the researchers were motivated by anything other than a desire to evaluate and 25 improve upon the curriculum, but their strong beliefs in the program conceivably colored what they saw happening (if, indeed, they observed a class at all). Schultz, Barr, and
Selman (2001) only used FHAO-approved classrooms, and Bardige received the student journals she used directly from the FHAO. We have no way of knowing if these samples were representative of all FHAO units, FHAO units conducted by approved instructors, the “best” FHAO units, or the “worst” FHAO units—though I strongly suspect the latter was not the case.
Data Collection and Research Designs
The data upon which Bardige’s (1983, 1988) dissertation was based came in two waves. For an unpublished pilot study (1981), she received two class sets of journals from FHAO to analyze. For one class set, the classroom teacher had torn the journals apart and photocopied everyone’s day 1 journal entry, followed by day 2, and so forth.
Bardige admits that it was impossible to construct individual participants’ journeys throughout the course because not every entry had a name. The second class set was photocopied intact, making it possible to analyze student responses from the beginning to the end of the unit.
Needing more data for her dissertation, Bardige also collected “supplemental data” from two sources: 1) “published excerpts from journals kept by eleventh graders in a private college preparatory school” (p. 39), and 2) “a small group of seventh and eighth graders’ journals that had been donated to the [FHAO] resource center” (p. 39). She explained that after analyzing the first two sets of journals, she needed more data in order to come up with five examples from each of the 3 levels of thinking she had observed: 26 concrete, early formal, and formal. She needed the excerpts from the 11th grade journals in order to have more examples of formal thinking. The partial data from the 11th grade
class is problematic for the very fact that it is partial. Would a complete set of the data
paint a different picture? Was it chosen because it would easily fit within the Piagetian
and Kohlbergian frameworks she had already decided to use? Though this is a problem,
even more problematic is that Bardige (1983) did not observe the FHAO units as they
were being taught. The journal responses from the first two class sets of data are
completely decontextualized except that she names the film to which the students were
asked to respond. I remedied this design limitation by observing classes for a total of 369
hours.
The quantitative studies were mostly evaluation or outcome studies (FHAO,
1993; Lieberman, 1981, 1986; Schultz, Barr, & Selman, 2001). Glynn, Bock, and Cohn
(1982) used case studies of four Holocaust curricula and quantitative measures as well, as
did Schweber (1999, 2004). Fine (1995) and Schweber (1999, 2004) observed the
classrooms under investigation. Both collected data that enabled them to paint a portrait
of the teacher, classroom environment, and student interaction. Fine (1995) looked at
only one classroom, while Schweber investigated four different Holocaust units, one of
which was an FHAO classroom. Schweber interviewed a few focal students at each site
in order to ascertain the received curriculum. She also administered one survey that asked
for definitions of words like Kristallnacht, Judenrat, and Final Solution. The survey also
included one social situation question regarding what the students would do if they saw
teasing going on in school. The students could choose from 5 predetermined answers. 27 The final part of the survey included 8 items dealing with a variety of issues that students could agree with, disagree with, answer that they did not know (e.g. “Racism does not exist in this school or city? You can’t change people’s thinking once they’ve made up their minds?).
Data collection procedures ranged from using student artifacts only (i.e. journals in Bardige, 1983, 1988), to interviewing subjects only (Carrington & Short, 1997; Short,
1994; Short, 2000), to using questionnaires only (FHAO, 1993; Lieberman, 1981, 1986;
Schultz, Barr, & Selman, 2001). Together these constitute 9 of the 13 studies. The other four (Fine, 1995; Glynn, Bock, & Cohn, 1982; Schweber, 1999, 2004) include a variety of measures and are thus able to paint more complete pictures. Glynn, Bock, and Cohn
(1982) regrettably included no direct observation, so we have no sense of the enacted curriculum. Fine (1995) included no information about the historical contextualization of the unit or how students constructed the Holocaust. She only described a few lessons, none of which directly related to the Holocaust (indeed, it was not her goal to do so).
Schweber (1999, 2004) included observations, interviews with teachers and students, a questionnaire including demographic information, Holocaust knowledge, and items about racism and social action. She did not collect student artifacts, and her interviews with students were very limited in nature: what they know about the content of the Holocaust and what moral lessons they say they learned.
My study most closely aligns with Schweber’s (1999, 2004), with the following exceptions: 1) I collected all student artifacts including journals, tests, papers, presentations (on video or audio), and projects; 2) I audio taped small group discussions 28 and whole class discussions; 3) My student interviews focused upon how students were thinking about the Holocaust instead of just upon Holocaust facts. In order to triangulate the data and look at the differences in students responses depending upon the context, it was necessary to collect all of this data.
Direct observation is almost foreign to the Holocaust education body of literature, perhaps because the evaluation studies had a psychological rather than a sociocultural theoretical framework. A fundamental methodological problem in this body of research is the limited data sources collected at each site. I remedy this limitation by observing, collecting student artifacts, interviewing, and administering surveys. I also fully contextualize the data I report, something only Schweber does (1999, 2004).
Another gap in the Holocaust education studies is the lack of data on how students think about the Holocaust. Only Bardige (1983, 1988) provides ample information, and yet that data can not be checked against other student data since there is none. Further, the sampling may be tainted since FHAO chose what journals to give to Bardige. All of the FHAO studies are suspect. Each one showed gains in student relationship maturity, but studies not conducted by FHAO (Glynn, Bock, & Cohn, 1982 and Schultz, Barr, &
Selman, 2001) do not show similar findings. This certainly requires more study, and I submit that direct observation is absolutely necessary in order to presume to evaluate such a thing. Only Schweber (1999, 2004) sets out to document representation of Jews and the Holocaust. Surprisingly, this is not a part of the other studies. No Holocaust study, thus far, has set out to capture the dynamic interplay of participants, texts, and 29 cultural locations. In doing so, I was able to ascertain why some students were resistant to
Holocaust education (as our literature colleagues have done with multicultural literature).
Findings of Holocaust Education Studies
Student Responses
Bardige (1983) read the journals of junior high and high school students who had taken part in an FHAO course. She found that students responded to the Holocaust in ways that “embodied concrete, early formal, and formal thinking” (p. 38). Bardige found that students’ thinking changed over the course of the FHAO unit, and that students themselves reported achieving the highest gains in reflective moral thinking—Bardige refers to this as enmoralment. She identified three dimensions of enmoralment: 1) judgments and empathy, 2) grappling with discrepancies, and 3) investment of self. Her analyses showed that each dimension of enmoralment included varying degrees of reflectivity. For example, students’ judgmental and empathetic responses included: direct response, active processing, consideration within a larger context, looking back on the adequacy of a first response, considering the implications of thinking. “Direct response” was the lowest level and “considering implications of thinking” was the highest; however, a student in the concrete stage could respond with the highest level of reflectivity. The excerpt below is an example of this very thing.
I do feel the way Winifred said about feeling down on the people of the world
because they can do such horrible things. But I also hope that someday everybody
who can do this will be cured of their disease to kill human beings. (Bardige,
1983, p. 156) 30 While social and cognitive development and enmoralment were themes across journals, they were also themes within individual journals. Bardige (1983) looked at two student journals and found two different stories of student growth. In the first journal, a girl Bardige called “A,” underwent several changes in thinking as the unit progressed. A concrete thinker in the beginning (holding stereotypical or one dimensional views of others), she began to see human beings as more complex after reading about Tomas in
The Boy from Old Prague (Ish-kishor, 1963). Tomas was an antisemite who gradually came to know and like the Jews. She ended the journal entry “by bringing together empathy, judgment, and reality—recognizing the clash of perspectives” (Bardige, 1983, p. 172). She went on to have several more turning points that Bardige attributed to the girl’s empathy. A.showed growth both within and between developmental stages, and showed more moral outrage than other students showed.
The second case was culled from a boy’s journal, and Bardige referred to him as
“B.” She thought this case was “more typical” than A’s because it had fewer turning points. His thinking, Bardige said, “is squarely early formal” (p. 179). B. used his journal to capture his condemnations of victimizers and bystanders, but he did so as one who was not involved with the events. Bardige referred to this level of involvement as “interest or concern.” By the end of the course, he was writing more empathetic reflections:
People not related to these Barbaric tragedies have no idea of how painful life was
for the persecuted no matter how terribly bad they feel about it. The acts
committed are so hard to believe and understand. (Bardige, 1983, p. 182) 31 Bardige placed this excerpt higher on the enmoralment scale and higher on the cognitive and social development scale than earlier excerpts, and this underscored the finding that “students’ expanding awareness simultaneously revealed both greater cognitive complexity and greater prosocial sensitivity” (p. 195). Bardige shed the
Piagetian labels in the new article (1988), and she presented two new findings: as students developed more sophisticated thinking, they lost the sense of moral outrage and desire to mitigate the suffering. Except for one boy, only girls expressed moral outrage, shock, or calls for action.
In Fine (1995), when the class discussed The Boy from Old Prague (Ish-kishor,
1963), students began recounting the prejudices that their uncles or parents had; however, the students themselves admitted to no such prejudices. When the teacher asked what prejudices the students’ held, one boy in the class, Yoshi, said, “I think people tend not to see their own prejudices so they think they don’t have prejudices but from other people’s view they do. I might have one but maybe I myself don’t see it or notice it” (p. 55). A few days after this discussion, a special speaker came from FHAO to talk to the students about the history of antisemitism and its religious roots. A few students were uncomfortable with the idea that they could admit to the truthfulness of another religion and yet hold onto their own beliefs. Some students could not resolve this discrepancy.
Bardige (1983, 1988) unquestionably provided the most robust picture of student responses during the course of a FHAO unit. Other studies helped to elucidate student developmental changes after going through the Holocaust unit. Schultz, Barr, and Selman
(2001) found that students in the FHAO group “showed significant increases in 32 relationship maturity and decreases in racist attitudes and self reported fighting behavior relative to comparison students” (p. 20). Lieberman (1981, 1986) also found significant increases in relationship maturity; however, there were no differences between the FHAO and the comparison group in perspective-taking ability or in civic attitudes.
FHAO students did not show significant increases in moral reasoning (Glynn,
Bock & Cohn, 1982; Schultz, Barr, & Selman, 2001). Bardige’s (1983) study does show growth in moral thinking and reflectivity, so her findings are at odds with both Glynn,
Bock, and Cohn (1982) and Schultz, Barr, and Selman (2001). Bardige (1983) is the only one who used the students’ extended writing; hence she had more material to work with.
Interestingly, Carrington & Short (1997) found that most students were not using their Holocaust knowledge to realize anti-racist goals that are part of the Canadian curriculum. Students were generally unable to define stereotyping and scapegoating, and even after they were supplied with a definition, they were unable to explain how Nazis stereotyped Jews or how Jews were scapegoats in the Nazi era (Carrington & Short,
1997). Short (1994) assessed whether or not the 72 students in his study knew about
Jewish culture and/or entertained misconceptions about Jews. He found that of the 58 students responding to the question, “Christians and Jews believe in the same God?,
Twenty-seven replied “yes,” 25 replied “no,” and 6 were not sure. A vast majority of the students knew that Jesus was Jewish (43 Yes, 5 no, 11 not sure), and 43 of 49 students said that Romans killed Jesus. Five of 49, under 10% said that Jews killed Jesus 33 Students’ Gendered Responses
When it came to students’ gendered responses, Fine (1995) found that boys used different Discourses (Gee, 1996) when speaking in class than when writing in their journals. At times silent or boisterous during a class discussion of rabbit hunting, boys’ journals showed sensitivity and reflection. The fact that class discussion reveals different student responses is interesting. Studies like Bardige’s (1983), while providing bountiful information about student journal responses, shed absolutely no light on the performative nature of responses within the social context. What response is the “real” one? Would they respond sensitively or silently if they were faced with this situation in lived world?
Interestingly, Schultz, Barr, and Selman (2001) and Schweber (1999, 2004) also found that there was a gap between boys’ reflections and actions, in both cases relating to relationship maturity. Also, as far as gender differences went, girls in the FHAO program seemed to reduce racist attitudes, but the boys did not (Schultz, Barr, & Selman, 2001).
And girls showed more empathy and outrage at injustice than did boys (Bardige, 1983).
Teachers and the Classroom Dynamics
Fine’s (1995) focus was upon showing how morals were being taught in the schools via the FHAO curriculum. Because Fine (1995) observed the classroom, she was able to fully contextualize the lessons, which were few—one dealing with students getting to know themselves, one on the history of antisemitism, and another in which the teacher tried to do “damage control” after students voiced stereotypical remarks about
Jews and accused Israelis of perpetrating a Holocaust on the Arabs living in Palestine.
She did not reveal what students learned about the Holocaust, but she did convey a lot of 34 information about classroom dynamics in this one school. She found that the teacher often asked pointed questions that required students to think and rethink their positions, in this way she opened the classroom up to multiple perspectives. But she performed a balancing act between accepting diverse opinions and condemning opinions she found repugnant, and sometimes she fell off the rope. She used her authority in the classroom to shut down students or turn the discussion in a more palatable (for her) direction, as did a guest speaker from FHAO who visited the class.
Mr. Zee, a participant in Schweber’s (1999, 2004) study also used his authority to interrupt students, but in his case it was to tell stories of his own. Mr. Zee also frequently and explicitly explained the moral lessons that the students should learn: “…there is pain out there for everybody,” “true learning is often the result of reflection on other people’s experiences,” and “the distance that gets created is sometimes created by ourselves” (p.
59-61).
Fine (1995) showed the careful balancing of personalities, positions, and acceptance of multiple truths that went on in the classroom. Interestingly, the researcher uncovered another balancing act that no doubt played out wherever anything was taught.
The teacher began the class on the history of antisemitism by saying that they should not judge others. Fine clarifies that “the curriculum did not intend to suggest that all perspectives and beliefs were equally valid” (p. 45). Fine was compelled to point out that the teacher was not representing “the curriculum’s” view—a balance between official and enacted curricula. This small point underscores the importance of observation. 35 Observation is exactly what Schweber (1999, 2004) had in mind when she designed her study of four Holocaust curricula. Schweber (1999, 2004) found that emplotments of events varied from unit to unit and could be placed along three continua: particular to universal; insular to expanded; tragic to redemptive. She also found that enfigurements of historical actors could also be placed along three continua: individualized to collectively represented; normalized to exoticized; and personalized to depersonalized. The representation of Holocaust history varied along two axes: chronological to thematic and inevitable to circumstantial. As far as the moral impact of
Holocaust study on students, Schweber (1999, 2004) found that a high engagement level
(3 of her 4 cases) was indicative of high moral affect. Moral impact was not dependent upon a sense of community or on the breadth of historical knowledge that students learned. In fact, Schweber (1999, 2004) found that Mr. Zee’s students, who learned the least amount of Holocaust history, reported the greatest amount of moral impact. In a controversial finding, Miss Bess, one of Schweber’s subjects, used a simulation game as one element in teaching about the Holocaust, and the game resulted in high moral impact on students. Schweber responded to critics
The findings of the Holocaust education studies have implications for my own research. 1) Lessons were expected in each of the FHAO studies and in Schweber (1999,
2004) and Hernandez (2004). None of the studies explores how lessons are learned; they simply subject participants to a battery of psychological tests or ask them what lessons they learned. I am interested in investigating how “lessons” are learned within the context of Holocaust unit and through the many kinds of data I collected; 2) Schweber (1999, 36 2004) found that Holocaust constructions differed for each of the four sites she observed based upon 3 continua (emplotment, image of historical actors, and what she called representation). Responses to literature will likely be affected by Holocaust construction, and since my units took place in English classrooms, not history classrooms, different issues may arise than did in the social studies units I reviewed. 3) Bardige (1983) explained the enmoralment and reflectivity she found in her participants in great detail.
Since I will be collecting journals and other informal writings, I too, will have a plethora of materials with which to investigate student thinking, though my study is based upon the social construction of meaning and not on cognitive functioning. 4) Short found that students in England believed that Romans killed Jesus, that the Jewish and Christian God were one in the same, and that students did not know how to explain scapegoating or stereotyping at the end of a Holocaust unit. My study also looks at these factors of emplotment and enfiguring that affect narrative framing.
Literature Studies
Questions
Unlike the Holocaust education studies, a basic assumption of the majority of these studies was that meaning was constructed from cultural-historical discourses. The largest group of literature studies asked questions about students’ responses to the alternative values/cultures portrayed in texts, and, like the teacher-oriented studies, usually involved a critical focus. One third of the studies I reviewed in this category asked research questions related to how teachers incorporated and used multicultural literature in the classroom. Several researchers, some of whom also focused on the 37 cultural frames from which students viewed literature, explored the deconstruction of texts. Questions that asked about and then examined the intersection of teacher, learner, text, and context were able to capture the complexity of the teaching and learning situation instead of breaking it down into component parts thus fragmenting and distorting the activity supposedly under examination (Engestrom, 1999). Only Enciso
(1997), Schweber and Irwin (2003), and Hernandez (2004) did this, and my study followed their example.
Settings, Populations, and Sampling Procedures
The teachers and students represented in studies spanned all levels, from elementary school to post-doctoral, with the vast majority of student populations falling within the secondary school. Most the studies took place in the Midwestern U.S., with one international study (Poyas, 2004).
Many of the schools depicted in this group of studies were situated within either largely European American communities or within largely African American communities. The case study was the most often cited or apprehended design element.
Additionally, Beach (2004), Berlak (1999), Hines (1997), and Singer and Smith (2003) were comparative in nature.
In several studies, the sampling methods were not specifically mentioned and could not be completely ascertained (Boyd, 2003; Enciso, 1997; Lewis, 1998; Poyas,
2004; Vinz et al. 2000; Wegner, 1996). Beach (2003, 2004), Berlak (1999), and Singer and Smith (2003) used populations that were regularly taught by an author or co-author of the study. Moje et al. (2000) wanted to present a diverse mix of locations and student 38 participants in order to demonstrate the interplay between text, context, and learner.
Hines (1997) included teachers who had different approaches to literary interpretation.
Schweber and Irwin (2003) chose a class in which students were reading a piece of
Holocaust literature at a fundamentalist Christian school. She did this in order to explore the importance of religion as a category in multicultural education.
Like the majority of studies in this category, my research took place in secondary schools in the Midwest, within a largely European American site and a largely African
American site, explored similar questions, and drew comparisons between cases. The main difference is that my research involved Holocaust literature units.
Data Collection and Research Design
Each study involved direct classroom observation, except for Jordan (1997), Cruz and Melendez (1997), Ostrowski (1997), Poyas (2004) and Wegner (1996). Poyas (2004) relied upon lessons videotaped by a professional videographer and follow up interviews with the teachers to create her case studies. Many of the studies involved interviews with a teacher participant (Beach, 1997; Berlak, 1999; Cruz & Melendez, 1997; Enciso, 1997;
Hernandez, 2004; Jordan, 1997; Singer and Smith, 2003; Webster, 2001), and three of those studies were conducted by the person acting as the teacher (Berlak, 1999; Enciso,
1997; Singer & Smith, 2003). Those who interviewed teachers were able to provide useful information about why the teachers chose the texts they did.
Interviews with focal students were common in this group of studies. Only Enciso
(1997), Hines (1997), Poyas (2004), Singer and Smith (2003), and Wegner (1996) did not interview students. In each of these studies, interviews with the students would have 39 brought additional insight helpful in rounding out the picture and triangulating data.
Failure to interview the students was inconsistent with the theoretical frames of each study (except possibly Wegner, 1996), since each study claimed a sociocultural view of learning. What students will say in a large group discussion may vary greatly when the context changes to one-on-one interviews or focus groups (Patton, 2002). My study involved direct observation of each unit, audiotaping of classroom discussions and small group discussions, interviews with students and teachers, and collection of all classroom artifacts. More than half of the literature studies under review did not involve the collection of student artifacts. This is a problem because, as Weissman (2004) has argued,
“little attention has been paid” to how student responses to Holocaust representations “are fraught with our personal needs and fantasies” (p. 30), and student artifacts are a fecund source for exploring these aspects of narrative identity.
Many of the studies did not thoroughly explain the methods of data analysis
(Beach, 1997; Beach et al., 2004; Berlak, 1999; Enciso, 1997; Hernandez, 2004; Hines,
1997; McGinley et al., 1997; Moje et al., 2000; Poyas, 2004; Singer & Smith, 2003;
Spears-Bunton, 1990; Vinz et al., 2000; Wegner, 1996). I refer to their data analysis techniques as content analysis because Patton (2002) explains that this approach refers to
“any qualitative data reduction and sense-making effort that takes a volume of qualitative material and attempts to find core consistencies and meanings” (p. 452). None of the studies I read from Rogers and Soter (1997) had comprehensive methods sections. The editors may have asked the researchers to shorten the methods in order to appeal to a larger audience. 40 Of the studies that did include data analysis descriptions more particular than
“content analysis,” Beach et al. (2003) took an activity theory approach to their study, and they highlighted the importance of discourses of race, class, and gender in mediating student responses to multicultural literature. Their theoretical approach was manifest in the data analysis. He and his coauthors read all of the data multiple times until all four researchers consistently arrived at the same codes. The codes were organized around the following aspects of activity systems and narrativized worlds:
1) participants; 2) texts; 3) teacher techniques; 4) student discussion/positioning
strategies; 5) voicing and adopting discourses of gender, class, race,
sports/athletics, school/education/socialization, historical/cultural analysis in
general, psychological, religious/spiritual; 6) contextualizing and constructing text
worlds in terms of norms, conventions, beliefs, values in the text; and 7)
categorizing/defines perceptions of self, others, and characters” (p. 7).
Of this list of codes, numbers 2-5 deal with mediational tools. For example, the literature that is being read in the classroom is a tool by which students and teachers arrive at interpretations, but number 5 (discourses) is also a tool, and works along with the text, to produce an object—constructing a textual world—and the outcome of the activity is #7
(the transfer from textual world to the “lived” world, or what some might call “lessons” and I call the refiguration of narrative identity). Beach et al.’s codes did not include other elements of an activity system (rules, roles, and community), but the authors went on to write about community and the teacher’s role. 41 This was a nice approach for getting at the complex activity of literary interpretation without privileging text over discourses. These contextualizing elements can not logically be separated from the agents, tools, objects, and outcomes that they coproduce. Of course, it is impossible to focus equally on all elements of an activity system at once, but I am curious why they wrote about roles and community when they did not code for them. This may stem from the fact that one coauthor, Parks, was the teacher-participant and his knowledge of the community may have superseded all other observations. A different sense of communities and roles may have arisen from a blending of Parks’ “emic” observations and the other researchers’ “etic” observations.
Like Beach et al. (2003), I used an activity theory (Engestrom, 1999; Wertsch, 1998;
Vygosky, 1978) orientation; specifically I concentrated on tool use (texts and narrative frames) within complex social environments.
Schweber and Irwin (2003) used a grounded theory approach to their data analysis of the Holocaust literature unit at a Christian fundamentalist school, and they came to the study with an “enacted and received curriculum” lens. After this analysis was completed, they constructed a portrait of the unit (Lawrence-Lightfoot & Davis, 1997), including the school, the teacher, and the enacted and received curriculum. The grounded theory was evident as the authors pulled from the data how Jews were represented in the text and in the class in ways that were compatible with Christian eschatology in general. Critical discourse analysis would have added an extra layer of richness compatible with their desire to see how Jews were discursively constructed. 42 Unlike Schweber and Irwin (2003), Lewis, Ketter and Fabos (2001) did use critical discourse analysis to analyze their data. First, the authors synthesized their data into key and illustrative events. Next, they used critical discourse analysis to uncover the
“ideological interests related primarily to race as it intersected, at times, with other social identities such as gender, class, and status affiliations” (p. 325). Using the idea of an activity system, as does Beach et al. (2003), they explored how hegemony was maintained through discourses during the key and illustrative events they already identified.
I used data analysis methods from Beach (2003), Schweber & Irwin (2003), and
Lewis, Ketter and Fabos (2001). I focused my observations on the use of narrative tools as cultural tools. With discourse analysis (Fairclough, 1995; Gee, 1999; Rogers, 2004), I interrogated the cultural-historical discourses (as lived worlds or text worlds) that mediated the representations of Jews and the Holocaust within each site. I also used discourse analysis to interpret how students’ cultural locations affected their constructions of the Holocaust and how their narrative identities (Ricoeur, 1984, 1988) were tools for literary study and ways of interacting.
Findings for Literature Studies
The aims of teaching Holocaust literature are often to advance what Berenbaum
(1991) has called the “professed values of American society: democracy, pluralism, respect for differences, individual responsibility, freedom from prejudice, and an abhorrence of racism” (p. 11). Much of the research I considered related to multicultural literature, whose goal, according to Lewis, Ketter, and Fabos (2001) is “to change the 43 reader’s perception of self and other within the context of examining the structural inequalities with which cultural identities are constituted” (p. 319). At first, Berenbaum and Lewis may seem to have similar goals for their respective subject matters, but the
“professed values” of American society, on a second look, appear to be normalized beliefs, especially if they are not scrutinized within the particular cultural location of students. In this study, I do scrutinize the American narratives of freedom and individual responsibility.
This group of studies dealing with student responses to multicultural literature has a few points of relevance to my study of Holocaust literature units. First, the research indicated that cultural location influenced student ability to interact with multicultural literature (Beach, 1997; Beach et al., 2003, 2004; Berlak, 1999; Boyd, 2002; Burroughs,
1999; Enciso, 1997; Hines, 1997; Jordan, 1997; Schweber and Irwin, 2003; Vinz et al,
2000; Webster, 2001). Some students were turned off by the “literature of victimization” that they felt typified multicultural literature; others were ashamed of their dominant position in U.S. society; still others were fearful of losing their dominant position.
Schweber and Irwin’s (2003) participants, because of their religious frames and the text that was being used, tended to exoticize Jews and conflate Jewish and Christian suffering.
Jordan (1997) found that students rejected the unknown other.
No matter how the Holocaust is emplotted, it undoubtedly will be another literature of victimization. Further, since the Holocaust is inherently a religious topic for many Christians (Rubenstein, 1995), this may play a role in students’ understanding of
Holocaust literature. Antisemitism is on the rise in the world, according to the U.N.’s 44 Kofi Annan (2004); this, too, may play a role in student responses to Holocaust literature.
Some students reported that lack of prior knowledge was one reason they could not understand multicultural literature. I suspect that the issue is not comprehension, but that the narrative frames from which students read tend to distort texts in order to maintain the status quo. This may be an issue with teaching Holocaust literature because students may not have the historical tools necessary to make sense of the Holocaust literature texts they read in English classes.
Teacher text selection and interpretative stance influenced how students perceived the Others they encountered through literature (Beach et al., 2003; Burroughs, 1999;
Enciso, 1997; Hines, 1997; Lewis, 1998; Moje et al., 2000; Ostrowski, 1997; Schweber
& Irwin, 2003; Singer & Smith, 2003; Vinz et al., 2000). Hines (1997), for example, discussed four teacher interpretive stances and how each positioned students in the classroom. She described the assumptions about society that teachers unwittingly brought to the classroom interpretative culture. One teacher encouraged students to explore social issues only in relation to the social world of the texts they read. Another of Hines’ participants had a reader-response orientation to texts. He “encourage[d] his college literature students to join a classroom community where reader knowledge and experience were valued dimensions of the reading experience” (p. 121). He believed that as students learned to question language, they learned how to question society. This, he believed, would help students be able to engage in perspective taking and perhaps even help them learn how to disrupt the status quo. Barb, another teacher in Hines’ study, was interested in getting students to recognize normative behavior and disrupt it. She used a 45 social justice framework as she positioned her students as literary interpreters. Her emphasis on perspective-taking in the text world informed discussions of events in society, just as events in society informed discussions of text worlds. The last participant,
Richard, took a cultural criticism view of literature. He used literature as a springboard for discussion about culture. In his view, the meaning did not inhere in the text, but existed in the social world. His approach led one student to ask: “How are we supposed to respond to the knowledge that we have? How are we supposed to change ourselves and our attitudes? How do we go about doing that?” (p. 130). To these questions, that no doubt arose from the interpretative approach that the teacher privileged in the classroom,
Richard had no easy answers. He recommended that his students simply be aware of the socially constructed nature of knowledge and perspectives; however, even researchers
Lewis, Ketter, and Fabos (2001), who were well aware of the socially constructed nature of knowledge, found themselves falling into sociopolitical discourses that served to maintain the status quo rather than disrupt it.
Another finding that cuts across studies is that through explicit teaching some students were able to make shifts in the way they viewed Others (Beach et al., 2004;
Berlak, 1999; Boyd, 2002; Burroughs, 1999; Hines, 1997; Spears-Bunton, 1990;
Webster, 2001). As in Boyd (2002) and Webster (2001), the White subjects in Spears-
Bunton (1990) were initially resistant to the heavy emphasis on African American literature in their American literature class; however, some students did come around.
One student in particular, Courtney, began identifying with an African American 46 character in one of the novels they read. This identification, according to Courtney, began to change her views about modern day racism.
In Boyd (2002), students were able to apply a more critical lens to their reading.
Tweety, an African American student reading The Taste of Salt (Temple, 1994; a story about Haiti), ended up voicing the main character where he was silent in the book. This same student reflected upon her own position in society in relation to Djo’s (the main character). Gero, a first generation American whose parents were from Trinidad and
Tobago, was able to identify social justice issues in Chain of Fire (Naidoo, 1989). Even though he was an English language learner, he was able to critically analyze the book and the author’s style.
Finally, Vinz et al. (2000) found five ways that teachers in her study helped students engage with Others through literature: 1) by discussing any essentializing that took place in class; 2) by providing a space for students to take on the viewpoints of others; 3) by deconstructing and demystifying sociocultural practices that construct
“others”; 4) by challenging students’ views of fellow classmates; and 5) by avoiding didactic purposes.
While having a set of tools to use in the classroom may seem helpful, it is also clear from the research that students learn to respond in the ways that the school and their teachers found acceptable (Hines, 1997; Ostrowski, 1997), but this did not necessarily transfer over to the way students interacted with others in their lived worlds (Ostrowski,
1997). Interestingly, Felman and Laub (1992) argue that testimony, and much of 47 Holocaust literature is testimony, is a “point of conflation between text and life, a textual testimony which can penetrate us like an actual life (p. 2, italics in the original).
Jordan (1997) found that readers who invested themselves in the literature tended to diminish any negativity and accentuate the pleasantness they found. Squire (1963) calls this tendency “happiness binding.” According to Jordan (1997), however, those who looked for hopeful interpretations exhibited lack of awareness of several factors influencing the characters in the story: 1) cultural institutions, 2) beliefs, 3) alternative literary norms, 4) cultural literary heritage, 5) social phenomena, and 6) author or narrator.
These findings will help guide my observations of the teachers in my study. Since only one study with findings related to teacher positioning deals with Holocaust literature
(Schweber & Irwin, 2003), and that case is set in a religious school environment, we know little about what possible positioning may take place in public school Holocaust units where religious talk may not take center stage.
Summary
My study contributes to two fields of research: Holocaust education and multicultural literature. Whereas the research in Holocaust education has tended to focus upon pre-unit and post-unit psychological testing of student participants, my study takes a sociocultural view of teaching and learning and hence explores how teachers and students actively construct Jews and the Holocaust within local contexts. On the Holocaust education side of the research, only Schweber and Irwin (2003) and Hernandez (2004) have done this. 48 The sine qua non of past Holocaust education studies is the search for what lessons students learned. I suspect that cultural scripts that imbue the Holocaust with particular meanings play a role in defining the lessons students say they learn. In my research, then, I explore the lessons that teachers expect to teach and that students say they learned, but I triangulate that data with transcripts of class discussions and student artifacts to see if the rhetoric of lessons is approximated in the discourse and narrative frames that students use to construct Jews and the Holocaust.
Several points that some studies in both strands of research share revolve around the teacher’s role as a fulcrum of learning: by asking pointed questions (Fine, 1995), opening up or shutting down particular ways of thinking (Fine, 1995; Beach et al, 2003;
Burroughs, 1999; Enciso, 1997; Hines, 1997; Lewis, Ketter, & Fabos, 2001; Schweber &
Irwin, 2003; Vinz et al., 2000), and introducing particular texts or ways of teaching
(Beach et al., 2003, 2004; Moje et al., 2000; Ostrowski, 1997; Hines, 1997; Schweber,
1999, 2004; Vinz et al., 2000).
Unlike the Holocaust education studies, the literature studies all seem to begin with a sociocultural view of learning and tend to have a less jubilant view of the lessons
(writ large) that students learn or of new ways of thinking that emerge from contact with multicultural literature. In other words, they point to the difficulties and intricacies involved in gaining new cultural perspective. Within these studies the contexts are much more fully developed than they are in most of the Holocaust education studies. These studies are more likely to consider institutional racism even though this is an important aspect of the Nazi extermination of Jews (Bauman, 1989). The research loudly exclaimed 49 the importance of cultural location (what I call “narrative framing”) in influencing the way students read literature, and since this was largely ignored by the Holocaust education studies, my research (along with Schweber, 2003 and Hernandez, 2004) will begin to build a base of research for the all too common practice of teaching Holocaust literature in the English classroom. 50
Chapter 3
Methods
Where was I to discover a fresh vocabulary, a primeval language? The language of night was not human; it was primitive, almost animal—hoarse shouting, screams, muffled moaning, savage howling, the sound of beating…A brute striking wildly, a body falling; an officer raises his arm and a whole community walks toward a common grave; a soldier shrugs his shoulders, and a thousand families are torn apart, to be reunited only by death. This is the concentration camp language. It negated all other language and took its place. Rather than link, it became wall. Could it be surmounted? Could the reader be brought to the other side? I knew the answer to be negative, and yet I also knew that “no” had to become “yes.”
~Wiesel, “Why I Write” (1978, p. 203)
How can Holocaust experiences be communicated without language itself becoming a barrier for those who testify and for those who witness the testimony? Wiesel doubted that he could make himself understood, yet he was compelled to try. A short example from an interview with Moses S., a Holocaust survivor, demonstrates how in 51 l’univers concentrationaire even a simple story told in simple language can become confounding.
Moses S. All right. A few weeks later, the English people came in and bombed
the concentration camp [Mauthausen]. And I said, “Yankel, get up,
get up, it’s no good lying here, you’ll be a piece of gornisht [nothing
at all].” So we got up, and we found a hand from the bombing…
Interviewer A hand grenade?
Moses S. No, a hand [at this point, another voice, presumably a family
member, interjects, “A human hand”].
Moses S. A human hand.
Interviewer Oh, a human hand.
Moses S. Five of us. Divided. And we were eating it. And somebody died, we
cut out a piece—we were eating…
Moses S.’s Wife Excuse me, I think we have to finish. Too much already.
Moses S. Human flesh. (Langer, 1991, p. 117)
The interviewer in this segment, knowledgeable about the Holocaust, had difficultly in grasping this testimony because in his lived world, a disembodied hand would never be
“found” in this manner. The interviewer tried to make sense of the word by suggesting that Moses S. meant “hand grenade”—after all, hand grenades and bombings belong together. But that is not what Moses S. meant. He meant that they found a hand and ate it; he cut a piece out of a dead body and ate it. Through this story, can Moses S. help us understand the starvation he endured? Langer (1991) suggests that the horror of the story 52 makes in indiscussable—not fit for discourse. Can the wall that separates lived experience and text be scaled, Wiesel asks? Through the portraits of each site and the subsequent findings chapters, I attempt to find out how language and discursive practices are used by students and teachers to construct the Holocaust. That is, I seek to find how students and teachers attempt to meet the Holocaust at the point of language.
In order to capture each Holocaust literature unit as it was lived out by teachers and students at each site, I present a portrait of each school (Lawrence-Lightfoot &
Davis, 1997). Each portrait was designed to provide the general context, the teachers’ expectations and beliefs, and background about the Holocaust unit. To answer my research questions within each site I directed my observational gaze toward three overarching social practices: 1) how teachers represented the Holocaust through their own objectives, text (or curricular) choices, class discussions, and required student work;
2) how students responded in ways that pulled toward and against their teacher’s and their peers’ Holocaust representations as evidenced in classroom talk, interviews, and teacher and student artifacts; and 3) how individuals’ participation in specific narrative frames creating specific cultural locations (Gutierrez & Rogoff, 2003) influenced their own constructions of the Holocaust. Additionally, I administered two surveys. The first was a pictorial survey of Holocaust knowledge designed to gain access to students thinking about specific aspects of Holocaust history. The second was a Social Situations
Survey designed to see if students would be willing to reveal intolerance toward others in 53 fabricated social situations.4 Within the third portrait, the critical literacy Holocaust unit
at Adams Junior High, I planned and implemented some activities, but besides that, all
other aspects of the study were the same. After each portrait was constructed, I began
cross case analyses (Patton, 2002) that resulted in Chapters 6, 7, and 8.
I undoubtedly failed to be objective, mired as I was in my own perspectives. The
portraits and analyses I present here are but representations themselves (Lawrence-
Lightfoot & Davis, 1997) of the lively, contested, and complex classroom cultures in
which I conducted my fieldwork. So it seems that my tales are victims of the same
affordances and constraints that were of so much interest to me as I came to an
understanding of the participants and the cultural tools they used to construct the
Holocaust. I confess a proclivity to look at the constraints more readily than the
affordances. This was due to my deep desire to improve instruction, and as Lawrence-
Lightfoot & Davis (1997) suggest of some social scientists, a desire to transform learning
into social action. I feared that some student perspectives and some representations of
Jews and the Holocaust would end up reinforcing stereotypes rather than breaking them
down. Awareness of this tendency enabled me to be both intuitive and counterintuitive at
the same time (Lawrence-Lightfoot & Davis, 1997), writing what VanMaanen (1988)
calls a “confessional tale.”
Research Design
This qualitative research includes two portraits (Lawrence-Lightfoot & Davis,
1997) of Holocaust literature units framed broadly by a cultural-historical activity
4 I use very little of this information in this dissertation because I chose to concentrate on students responses to the literature, but I plan to explore these data more deeply in the future. 54 approach to knowledge and learning (Cole & Engestrom, 1993; Engestrom, Miettinen, &
Punamaki, 1999). I viewed learning as a social practice influenced by the various communities with which students and teachers were affiliated, and I viewed their narrative frames as tools that mediated meaning. Portraits were essential because I was interested in the processes whereby teachers represented the Holocaust and students took up responses. As much as my data allowed, I looked beyond static views of race, class, and gender as being prescriptive of cultural location and instead at social activities and cultural practices that may be common to groups but often variously acted upon
(Gutierrez & Rogoff, 2003). The ensuing portraits (Lawrence-Lightfoot & Davis, 1997) of each site synthesized the data into narrative form and provided the context for the presentation of a thematic framework of responses grounded in the data (Strauss &
Corbin, 1990).5
The portraiture and grounded theory approaches to my topic have drawbacks.
They rely almost completely upon the integrity and sensitivity of the researcher
(Merriam, 1988; Lawrence-Lightfoot, 1983; Patton, 2002; Strauss & Corbin, 1990). The content of the portraits is wholly determined by the researcher, the potential biases of whom may afford or constrain vision of unfolding activity and emerging themes. Because all research is limited by the perspective of the investigator (Patton, 2002), I considered my particular perspective an asset. As a Christian who has struggled with the historical, ethical, religious, and aesthetic implications of the Holocaust and Holocaust literature, I
5 By claiming a grounded theory approach, I am not suggesting that I came to the study a blank slate; rather, the categories and interrelated themes that emerged from the data drove continued data collection and analysis as I worked through the various sites and units. 55 potentially had some insight into how students (the vast majority of whom are Christians) would wrestle, or not wrestle, with the content and implications of their units of study.
Setting, Population, and Sampling Method
Adams Junior High was the site of two studies: in 2003, I researched 3 eighth grade classes (N=46); in 2004, this time co-teaching some aspects of the unit and taking a critical literacy approach, I researched 2 eighth grade classes (N=45). Adams is a predominately White (over 98%), suburban school with a 3% free or reduced lunch rate.
At River Hill Academy, I investigated 4 tenth grade classes (N=35) in a predominately
Black (over 98%), urban school with a 60% free and reduced lunch rate (see Chapters 4 and 5 for descriptions of these settings).
I looked for demographically different schools at which highly recommended teachers taught units of Holocaust literature (Table 3.1). When I began setting up my sites, a teacher at a Hebrew Day School agreed to be a participant, but she left the school before the unit was to begin. I chose sites that would fit into my research schedule
(Adams in October to December 2003; River Hill in April to May 2004; and back to
Adams in the following year). The teacher at Adams invited me back in the following year to co-teach the unit with her; the aim of this unit was to take what we learned the first time about representations and responses and help the students explore Holocaust production, distribution, and consumption. This kind of emphasis is similar to many other critical literacy projects that attempt to disrupt the status quo and make students aware of how their discursive responses are influenced by institutions (Hicks, 2002; Janks, 2001;
Jones, 2004; Weiss, 2004) and also by other studies that use multicultural literature as a 56 means of uncovering and interrupting stereotypical discursive responses (Alvermann,
Commeyras, et al., 1997; Beach et al., 2003, 2004; Lewis, Ketter, & Fabos, 2001).
Table 3.1 Research Sites Adams 2003 River Hill 2004 Adams 2004 Total N 46 35 45 126 Grade 8th 10th 8th Track Accelerated Inclusive Accelerated SES Middle Working poor Middle Race 98% White 98% Black 98% White Length (weeks) 7 6 9 22 Hours of Observ. 84 150 135 369
Once a prospective a teacher participant showed interest in the study, I met her to
further explain the study. If she was still interested, I pursued consent from the
appropriate school authority, then asked the teacher to give her informed consent
(Appendix 3-A).
Because each Holocaust literature unit was unique, I chose to concentrate on
depth of contextualization instead of the breadth that larger samples provide (Patton,
2002), thereby giving up external. My sampling strategy coincided with the logic of my
research questions and design because both required an emphasis on deeply
contextualized processes and not only on end products. By providing a variety of
“information-rich” portraits and thematic analyses (Patton, 2002), I documented how the
Holocaust was constructed differently in different settings. Further, I showed how
patterns cut across different cases (Patton, 2002). With the addition of the critical literacy
case, I could begin to investigate how the implications of my research could be
practically applied in the classroom. 57 Data Collection Procedures and Instrumentation
Observation. Because I was interested in presenting portraits and investigating the narrative frames I encountered, direct classroom observation was necessary. At each site,
I entered the classrooms and explained my study, and handed out consent packets to all interested students (an example of such a packet is Appendix 3-B, though they differed for each site). At Adams Junior High, I observed Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays during the 7 week unit from 8:30 AM to 2:40 PM (84 hours). I was unable to observe on
Tuesday and Thursdays because my class schedule interfered, though it would have been optimal to be present for every class. At River Hill Academy, I was present every day of the 6 week unit from 9:00 AM to 2:00 PM (150 hours), and when I returned to Adams in
2004, I observed Monday through Friday for a total of 7.5 hours of class time a week or
135 hours over the course of the 9 week unit.
During these units, I audiotaped whole class and small group discussions. At
Adams, I also videotaped the participants as they presented their projects or engaged in group discussions. The local board of education would not permit me to videotape at
River Hill Academy. At each site, I took field notes (Patton, 2002) that described what I observed each day, my feelings and reactions to what occurred, questions I had, and patterns I began to see emerging in the site.
These observations offered several affordances: 1) I could “capture the context” within which the Holocaust units took place (Patton, 2002); 2) I was able to triangulate what students and teachers told me during interviews (Patton, 2002); 3) I could record things that the participants either did not know about or would be unwilling to provide 58 otherwise (Patton, 2002). This approach also had limitations. As I mentioned earlier, I chose depth of information rather than breadth. Spending so much time at each site prohibited me from investigating other sites. While I viewed my own subjectivity as an asset in my research, the observations were, of course, colored by my particular angle of vision (my own narrative identity). My observations were also colored by how my presence affected student responses and by what participants allowed me to see. For example, at River Hill, students turned around and looked at me whenever anyone in the room said something even slightly derogatory about White folks. Also, a student at River
Hill, Jerome, told me in an interview that I didn’t hear everything that was going on at
River Hill. I am quite sure I did not.
Interviews. At the beginning of each unit I interviewed the teachers with a general interview guide (Patton, 2002; see Appendix 3-C). This interview was designed to elicit background information about the teacher, her knowledge about the topic, and her reasons for teaching it. I also conducted several informal interviews (Patton, 2002) with each teacher during the course of the unit. These interviews dealt with how the teacher thought things were going and questions about daily events. When the units were complete, I conducted a final interview with only a few guiding questions: Would you teach the unit this way again in the future? What do you think your students learned? Do you think you met your goals?
I had planned to interview students once at the beginning of the unit and once at the end. To that end, I had created a pre-unit interview guide (Appendix 3-D), which I never used. It became clear to me at the first site (Adams Junior High, 2003) that finding 59 an opportunity to interview the students during non-instructional times was going to be difficult. Instead, I interviewed those students who returned interview assent and consent forms a little at a time. For example, I sat in on their group work and asked them questions; or I spoke with them for ten minutes during library time. Because this interview time was so punctuated, my questions focused upon what the students were doing or thinking about in relation to their Holocaust literature unit. I tended to request interview time from students who were doing interesting things. For example, two boys completed a video project on the SS that was multilayered and humorous. This piqued my interest, so during library time I asked them to explain to me what they had done and why they had done it. Once the unit was over, I continued to go back to Adams during library time to interview other students. I ended up with five in-depth interviews of 40 minutes or more and 9 brief interviews of 10 minutes or less. In 2004, I was able to audiotape 6 in-depth interviews with students, and 17 brief interviews of 19 minutes or less.
At River Hill, I found the same time constraints as I did at Adams. I asked students questions as issues arose. For instance, during one class a student complained about spending so much time studying the Holocaust instead of studying Civil Rights.
During an individual work time, I asked her to explain what she was thinking. In this way, I touched base with 28 of the 35 participants. It was not until the last week of the unit and of the year, that I was able to conduct longer interviews, and then I was only allowed to interview the students that Ms. France deemed “well organized.” During those two days, I interviewed 8 participants (2 from each class) for 30 minutes each. My 60 questions focused on their overall impression of the unit, their views of Jews in light of the multiple classroom comments about the movie The Passion of the Christ (Gibson,
2004), and their beliefs about how the Holocaust related to the Civil Rights Movement, also a frequent topic of classroom discussion.
These interview schedules were not systematic, but adaptive. One of the outcomes was that I was able to ask a large number of participants “one-shot questions” (Patton,
2002), which shed light on the things I saw in class and in their work. The obvious limitation is that I did not necessarily capture a representative cross section in my interviews. All of the interviews helped me to triangulate the observational and artifact data (Patton, 2002).
Artifact collection. All participants agreed to let me copy or keep all of the work they produced in their Holocaust literature units. These artifacts (Patton, 2002) included the students’ journal entries, projects, poems, formal pieces of writing, quizzes, study guides, and tests. I also collected all handouts that the teachers gave their students and any curricular materials they used. Together, the teacher and student artifacts were particularly rich in helping me to understand both representations and responses. These data often led me in new directions of inquiry. A potential limitation of this method was that without interviews or other times to clarify what had been collected, I may have come to erroneous conclusions. Fortunately, the interview method I had to adopt helped me to triangulate these findings.
Instrumentation. I have already discussed the interview guides I created for teachers and students (Appendices 3-C and 3-D, respectively). In addition to these 61 instruments, I also piloted two different surveys: a Holocaust knowledge survey
(Appendix 3-E) and the Social Situations Survey (Appendix 3-F). The Holocaust knowledge survey was designed to find how much students knew about the Holocaust by the time they finished the unit. The Social Situations Survey was designed to capture their beliefs about racism and prejudice and their willingness to act if confronted with such situations. Ms. France distributed similar surveys to her class at River Hill as part of her course.
At Adams Junior High, I piloted an 8-item Holocaust picture survey aimed at uncovering what the students knew about the Holocaust by the end of the unit. Barton and Levstik (2004) found that pictures were a good way to elicit children’s historical thinking without the tedium of test-like questions, so at Adams, I conducted picture prompt interviews with eight students (see Appendix 3-G for an example of such an interview). I chose pictures representative of different stages of the Holocaust
(ghettoization, deportation, concentration) and other matters of significance (crematories, mass graves, death marches). Based upon the responses I got from Adams, I decided to change a few of the pictures that did not elicit much response (e.g. the octopus with a Star of David over its head and its tentacles grasping the world); I later administered the revised version of the Holocaust knowledge survey to Adams’ participants in 2004. At
River Hill Academy, the teacher decided to administer a survey, including 7 picture prompts to every student in her class. I was the beneficiary of all of the participants’ responses. 62 The second instrument was a social situations survey designed to collect information about students’ attitudes, beliefs, and intentions to act on issues of racial/ethnic tolerance and altruistic risk-taking behavior. The language in existing scales was outdated (Levinson & Nevitt, 1944; Remmers, 1960; Sedlacek & Brooks, 1970); or asked questions that were meant for college audiences (Byrnes & Kiger, 1988; Sedlacek,
1996; Sidanius et al., 1976). My instrument was based upon the instrument used by
Byrnes and Kiger (1988).
Byrnes and Kiger (1988) updated a scale created by Kogan and Downey (1956) to measure White attitudes towards Blacks. The authors argued that new scales were needed because the nature of racism in the U.S. had changed, had gone underground. The Social
Scenarios Scale, as Byrnes and Kiger (1988) called it, indicated that White respondents’ prejudicial attitudes towards Blacks increased as the level of intimacy on the scale increased. For example, Whites were more likely to admit discriminatory intentions to act when the social situations dealt with Whites dating Blacks or living proximally to Blacks.
The scenarios themselves were paragraph length and, as the name implies, painted a whole scenario in which the researchers wanted respondents to imagine themselves. After the scenario, the respondents generally picked from four choices: an anti-discriminatory intention to act, a less anti-discriminatory intention to act, a rationalized discriminatory intention to act, and a discriminatory intention to act.
I was not primarily interested in White attitudes towards Blacks; rather I wanted to gauge how readily students were willing to admit discriminatory intentions to act against any group, as a test of the common wisdom that the Holocaust teaches tolerance. I 63 created six scenarios that I thought could possibly happen within a school setting: peer bullying, a racial joke, being faced with unfamiliar religious practices (2), and an interethnic dating situation. The questionnaire asked students to imagine if this could happen at their school. Next, it asked them to explain what they thought about the situation and how they would react to it. While this survey did not measure tolerance, it did indicate the willingness to indicate intolerance. Because students were not confined to numbered choices, the survey gave me a view into the way students thought about issues of tolerance and discrimination. Since the Institutional Review Board insisted that the survey be blind, I had no way to match up responses with particular people in the study, a limitation of the data I was able to gather.
At Adams in 2003, I administered the Social Situations Survey at the beginning of the unit. There was neither time nor opportunity to do a post-test. The Holocaust knowledge survey was completed by a few students within the context of individual interviews with me at Adams in 2003. At River Hill, the teacher administered her versions of both surveys at the end of the unit. At Adams in 2004, I administered both surveys before and after the Holocaust unit. I made limited use of the data resulting from these surveys within this dissertation, not because it wasn’t fascinating, but because it took me in directions I wasn’t presently pursuing.
Data Analysis
I transcribed all data—fieldnotes, audio tapes, video tapes, surveys, journals, and other written artifacts. I saw themes emerging from the data while I was still in the field, and these findings helped to guide my continuing activity. I began my post-field analyses 64 by assembling the raw case data, constructing a case record for each of the three units, and then writing up a case narrative (Patton, 2002). The challenge was in reaching across the variety of data I had collected at each site and then putting it into an order that would bring each case to life (Merriam, 1988).
I constructed each portrait based upon the ideological formations I witnessed in the discourse of: the school, the teacher, and the texts. Next, I assembled key illustrative events throughout the teaching and learning of the unit (Lewis, Ketter, & Fabos, 2001), calling upon audio and video tapes of classroom interaction. Finally, I compared the artifacts with what students provided in other settings: journals, written papers, and interviews with me. I opted to create a narrative portrait (Lawrence-Lightfoot & Davis,
1997) that would provide a rich context for the exploration and analyses of representations and interpretations within and across cases. Within each Holocaust unit, then, I assembled data that described: the site, prominent youth discourses in each site, the teacher, the texts, and the classroom interactions. The initial portraits ended up as
Chapters 4 and 5, and the other 3 findings chapters presented data thematically across and within sites.
In order to make sense of the discursive practices that teachers and students used to interpret and represent the Holocaust, I coded data for recurring narrative frames
(Ricoeur, 1984, 1988). I used critical discourse analysis. Fairclough (1995), Gee, (1999), and Rogers (2004) provided me with the tools for exploring the ideological relationship between language, culture, and hegemony (see Appendix 3-H for a list of codes). I foregrounded links between social practice and language by viewing text as “discourse” 65 (Gee, 1996), as a “way of interacting” (Fairclough, 1995; Rogers, 2004), and as
Discourses (Gee, 1996). I also explored larger social constructs like institutions and
narratives that inform social practice (Fairclough, 1995). My analyses began with
transcribed discourse. I moved on to descriptions of the language texts, interpretation of
the relationship between discursive processes and the text, making use when necessary of
Fairclough’s (1995) four types of background knowledge that people may draw upon
when making sense of discursive activity. These include: 1) “knowledge of language
codes,” 2) “knowledge of principles and norms of language use,” 3) “knowledge of
situation,” and 4) “knowledge of the world” (p. 33). I went on to explain the relationship
between the discursive practices and cultural affiliations and practices. In this way,
critical discourse analysis made visible the connections that are usually not obvious, yet
are pervasive, and reproductive of larger social structures (Fairclough, 1995).
Summary
Unlike so many other Holocaust studies, my research does not begin with the
assumption that the Holocaust is likely to teach tolerance or lead to social justice. Letting
go of this assumption enabled me to design a socially contextualized study that looked
through many layers of meaning-making to uncover how and why students responded the
way they did to the Shoah. My research questions focused my work on constituents of
student response: representations and narrative identity as cultural tools.
My questions betray a wider interest I have in text (broadly construed as anything
discursively produced), social practices, and ideology. I was particularly interested in
how people place themselves and others in stories that guide their lives, and how those 66 stories change or remain firm in the face of new, confounding information (e.g. how the publication of The Origin of Species in 1859 changed the way many saw the world or how Copernicus’ sun caused a realignment of the planets and a revolution in thought). I view the Holocaust as one of those confounding, yet illuminating events.
I sought out secondary classrooms where this atrocity was being taught to students, not in history classrooms, but in literature classrooms and through literature. My research provides portraits of such units. Further, through observations, interviews, student artifacts, and surveys, I explored how students interpreted Holocaust literature and constructed Jews and the Holocaust through representations and perspectives. I did this with the aid of discourse analytic tools. I provide not only examples of units but also a framework for understanding students’ literacy engagements with Holocaust literature. 67
Chapter 4
Adams Junior High
Context, Teacher, and Narrative Frames
One thinks that one is tracing the outline of reality, when one is merely tracing around and around the frame through which we look at it.
~Wittgenstein (1967, p. 114)
Everyone can work to get an Abercrombie shirt, or sweatshirt, or whatever. Ask Dirk, he isn’t discriminated against. Are you?
~Annabelle (Adams 2004)
Although the rain had stopped earlier in the morning, the air was still thick with moisture on the October day that began my dissertation research study. I drove the five miles that separate my house from Adams Junior and Senior High, past an amusement park in whose shadows of roller coasters and giant water slides Adams stood. The park 68 was empty on that day, but in the summer, the parking lot had been filled with steamy cars and muffled shrieks from customers who pay for the thrill of being terrified on backwards and upside down roller coasters.
There are two ways to get to Adams from my house. The first is a shortcut that squirrels between the amusement park and the football field; it gives the traveler a view of Adams Township not in harmony with the middle class status that the statistics suggest. Tiny, formerly white, dilapidated shacks line this street. One such home, I came to find, would often have a small arrangement of things for sale in the driveway: baby toys and a small table one day, a power tool and clothing another. The other route to
Adams Junior High brought me past restaurants, shops, and a neighborhood of stately homes and well manicured lawns. On this day I chose the shortcut, and in about ten minutes I pulled up to the school buildings, a mixture of 1960s and 1980s styles of architecture, testaments to the growth that Adams Township had seen in the past. With no more room to build in Adams Township, the school population never changed much from year to year. The district was small, but still a grade A school, the reason why some newcomers chose this district over others.
Rivulets ran down the stripe of windows that cut across every classroom on the junior high side of the building. In fairer weather, these same windows sprayed each classroom with sunshine. The grassy fields surrounding the school were vibrant green, and at this time of year were filled after school by football players—some huge and others still waiting their turn for the sudden growth spurt that happens unexpectedly in adolescence. Football is king at Adams. Despite expected revenue shortfalls and a tax 69 levy that didn’t pass, the school board unanimously agreed to spend 5 million dollars on a new football stadium.
The heaviness of the day stood in stark contrast to my own bubbling excitement as I pulled into the last visitor parking space in front of the main office and dashed into the school where I would spend the next 7 weeks, and, unknown to me then, would return the following year for a whole quarter as an action researcher working with the classroom teacher, Mrs. Parker. Shaking off the gloom from outside, I noticed right away that faculty and staff were dressed in jeans and Adams sweatshirts; Friday was game day, and everyone was encouraged to don their spirit wear. I immediately felt out-of-place in my skirt and heels.
I entered Mrs. Parker’s classroom about 10 minutes after it had begun. Everyone was expecting me, and when I came in they yelled, “She’s here!” When I explained the study to them, they were all interested. They wanted to be in my “book,” and the most exciting thing, apparently, was the fact that they could make up their own pseudonyms. I ended up having to reject some of the more colorful or odd choices because they would distract my readers. One young man you will meet, who ended up settling on the name
“Fish,” had originally wanted to be called “Jim Jones” (of Guyana infamy) and “da
Gov’nor.” He next fought to be called “A. Fish,” but we finally settled on simply “Fish.”
All but one student ended up turning in assent/consent forms at Adams in 2003, so 46 of the 47 students participated in the study. When I returned the following year, 45 of the 52 students agreed to participate in the study. Ninety-one of the 99 students over two years appear in my study. 70 The Adams School District included about 4,000 students. Adams Junior High
School educates about 600 7th and 8th grade students per year, 98% Whites, with a host of
minorities making up the other 2%—African Americans, Asians, Hispanics, Indians,
Native Americans, and Japanese. Largely pulling from middle class homes, this school
has a 3% free or reduced lunch rate. The junior high is a 20-mile drive from downtown,
and is separated both geographically and existentially from the city, which has been rife
with racial tensions, riots, and charges of police brutality against African Americans. In
Adams Township, it seems that most citizens have traded in blacktop streets for tree-lined
driveways and bike paths, diverse housing choices for ½ acre lots with 4 bedrooms and 2
½ baths, including, I add very self-consciously, myself.
Classroom Activities and Curriculum during the Holocaust Unit
Within this section, I present data that show how Mrs. Parker structured her class
time in general and her Holocaust unit in particular. This section describes the kinds of
activities her students were used to taking part in, and the considerable amount of
flexibility, and hence responsibility, that her students had. Further, I describe the scope of
Mrs. Parker’s Holocaust literature unit.
Classroom Activities
When I arrived at Mrs. Parker’s classroom on that first day, students were all
reading quietly at their desks—until I came in. Sustained silent reading (SSR) was a
staple of Mrs. Parker’s classroom. Of the 84 minutes per day for English, she gave her
students 20 minutes for SSR. On the following Monday, I took note of the kinds of books
they were reading. Fish was just finishing Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath—his own choice! 71 Sometimes Mrs. Parker required a project after they finished a silent reading book. Fish designed a board game for his project. It looked like a smaller version of a Monopoly game, except you didn’t buy anything because you didn’t have any money—it was the depression after all. The whole game was scripted for failure. In the end, everyone who played ended up dead. I asked him about it, and he said, “Dark wit is my nature.” He went on to say that he loved the book, and that he was struck by the pessimism in it, which was his inspiration for the game. Other students read more typical fare: Paulsen’s
Hachet, Zindel’s The Pigman, and various Stephen King novels. The students were always in the process of reading an SSR book of their choice and then completing a project at the end.
Mrs. Parker had blocks of time scheduled for special activities. Once a week, her classes spent 42 minutes in the library, during which time students could conduct research or read whatever they wanted. Another regular, but special activity was a weekly
20-30 minutes group challenge activity. These activities usually did not have anything to do with what was going on during the rest of the week. They required analytical thinking, and dealt with word play, history, math, or even physics. The students loved the challenge activities, in part because the various groups competed against one another for the greatest number of correct answers. Mrs. Parker kept score from week to week, and the winning group from each class each quarter won a pizza party for lunch. As they completed the challenge activity on the first Friday I was there, I was amazed to hear them say things like, “We need more resources. Let’s go to the library.” They were allowed to go to the library as long as they were back in time. This amount of freedom 72 surprised me. When Mrs. Parker called time, students spontaneously returned materials to their rightful locations, and quickly sat back down to score their sheets.
Mrs. Parker relied heavily on small group work. Nearly everything they did revolved at some point around working with peers in a small group. One typical activity sequence included students doing independent reading at home, coming to class and working in small groups to answer questions, and then engaging in large group discussion afterwards. Frequently, the reading homework included journal writing, which then became the basis for small group work. The students tended to work well with groups, with some expected diversions. To provide a better feel for what an unexceptional small group discussion of The Sunflower (Wiesenthal, 1997) was like, I include a small excerpt from students discussing one question that Mrs. Parker gave them to answer. For background, Wiesenthal’s text revolves around one event that happened when he was imprisoned in a slave labor camp in Lvov (also Lviv and Lemburg). Wiesenthal was summoned via a nurse to the deathbed of a young Nazi soldier who wanted to confess his terrible crime of herding Jewish men, women, and children into a building, setting it on fire, and then shooting anyone who tried to escape. Karl, the Nazi, wanted Simon to forgive him, on behalf of the victims of Dnepropetrovsk. Simon listened to Karl, but left without answering. At the end of the text, Wiesenthal asked the readers to consider what they would have done.
The group work below took place in 2004 between Sam, Crystal, Devlin, and
Yanni, and as they answered the questions, they were to write their answers on a 73 communal poster—in lively colors—that would serve as the foundation for whole group discussion later.
Sam The first question is: What does the sunflower symbolize, and is it ironic?
Devlin He thinks the sunflower is a symbol for the connection from the dead
soldiers to the earth.
Sam Like they own more than he does, and they are dead.
Yanni Because why?
Sam Because it said in the book that they own more than he does, even though
they are dead. [He flips to the place in the book and hands it to Yanni.]
Yanni They’re like privileged in death?
Sam It is a symbol of possession.
Devlin Gotcha [begins writing this down on the poster].
Crystal He said “privilege.”
Sam Yes, “privilege.”
Devlin Got it. [Moving on the next question] What does the dying soldier Karl
ask Simon to do?
Crystal To forgive him.
Yanni Wait, you didn’t answer the question about whether or not it was ironic.
Sam It shouldn’t be capitalized [the word sunflower on the poster they are
making]. Do you mean the book or the flower?
Yanni Is there anything ironic about that?
Crystal I think so. 74 Sam That, that when they are dead they own more than he does when alive, or
so he says.
Devlin The title of the book.
Sam That’s not an irony.
Devlin I don’t care.
Crystal I think the irony is that it means something to him, that to the people that it
represents, it doesn’t really mean anything. [Devlin ignores Crystal’s
comment and adds Sam’s response to the poster. They then move on to the
next question.]
Like most of the groups I taped and witnessed, the students in this group got right down to business. Without any direction from the teacher, they each assumed a role. Sam began asking the questions; Devlin began recording the answers; Yanni kept the team on track by reminding them to completely answer the first question before moving on the next one; and Crystal offered her ideas and checked Devlin’s work (“He said ‘privilege’”). It is clear to me from their responses that Devlin, Sam, and Crystal read the book. Though
Yanni fully participated in the group, she didn’t offer any content ideas. Her role was to ask questions (“Because why?” “They’re like privileged in death?” and “Is there anything ironic about that?”). Pretty quickly they managed to come up with a reasonable meaning for what the sunflower symbolized and how it was ironic; actually, within the first two turns after Sam asked the question, Devlin and Sam provided the answers to the group. It seems clear that Sam would have been able to answer the questions fully and accurately 75 on his own, while it also seems clear that the other members of the group benefited from the group activity.
After each group completed the questions, they began a large group discussion.
Mrs. Parker What does the sunflower mean to Wiesenthal?
Sam [Reading from his group’s poster] The sunflower is a symbol of privilege
because dead people possessed it. It is ironic that the dead Germans
possess more than the live Jews. And it kind of shows that he didn’t have
any privilege.
John He got a mass grave with probably hundreds of people piled up on top of
him while other people got a comfy little coffin with a sunflower planted
on top and butterflies.
Stella I thought it was like a kind of connection to the living world because he
said, like the butterflies were carrying messages from one sunflower to the
other.
Carl I thought it meant that kind of like how the Germans were superior to the
Jews even when they were dead because they still had something.
Mrs. Parker Okay, interesting. Next question.
As you see, once Mrs. Parker opened up the discussion to the whole class, people then had a chance to hear the thinking done in the other groups. In this case, Sam led with the response. John and Stella did not repeat what Sam said, but they added more detail and nuance. For example, Sam mentioned that “dead Germans possess more than live Jews” as the irony, and John compared the fate of dead Germans (“a comfy little coffin with a 76 sunflower”) and dead Jews (mass graves), extending Sam’s initial response. Stella, somewhat tentatively (“I thought it was like kind of”), suggested another symbolic meaning for the sunflower: even in death Germans are not cut off from the living. Carl tentatively (“I thought it meant that kind of”) reasserted Sam’s statement, and then Mrs.
Parker evaluated the answers and moved on. While each small group and large group discussion was unique—some churning up more controversy and disagreement—this is how the activity sequence proceeded in general.
The Holocaust Unit
Since Mrs. Parker was the only teacher of gifted students for 8th grade English,
she had a lot of leeway regarding what she taught in her classes. She had to hit all of the
standards, but as far as texts were concerned, she was on her own. Both in 2003 and
2004, Mrs. Parker taught a Holocaust literature unit. She assigned Holocaust literature texts as independent reading, giving the schedule of readings and deadlines for the quarter. She assigned the whole book at once, so they never discussed it until after the deadline passed. In 2003, students were assigned Night (Wiesel, 1982) and Maus II
(Spiegelman, 1991) as independent reading. In 2004, they were also assigned The
Sunflower (Wiesenthal, 1997) (see Appendix 4-A for the instructional content of all three sites). For each of these books, they were supposed to stop approximately every 30 pages to make a journal entry addressing personal reactions, thoughts about issues raised in the texts, meaningful quotations, and explanations of why the quotations were meaningful to them. They also completed literature webs and vocabulary webs for each book. 77 Besides the independent reading, students read the play The Diary of Anne Frank
(Goodrich & Hackett, 1994) in class, with students taking on the various roles. They also went to hear Mr. F., a Lithuanian Holocaust survivor, present his testimony through a video link up with the Simon Wiesenthal Museum of Tolerance in California. Mr. F. began his talk by emphasizing the uniqueness of the Holocaust compared to other genocides and atrocities: “Many Blacks were not murdered on purpose. Some care was taken to preserve them. There was never a law passed that all Armenians must die. This is why Jews have a special connection to the Holocaust.”
Besides Mr. F., Mrs. Parker brought in another special speaker, Mrs. Cranston, who had taken students on trips to Europe to visit the Anne Frank House in Amsterdam,
Dachau in Germany, and Auschwitz in Poland. She also brought in many artifacts that her father sent home from Europe when he served in WWII—including a Nazi flag and armband. Students reported loving her presentation, especially seeing the Nazi flag and getting to touch the Nazi armband. Like Jean, many students thought, “The armband was like spooky. I thought, ‘What happened to the guy who wore it? What was he like? Who killed him and who did he kill?’”
Finally, each student was randomly assigned a historical topic for which they wrote a 2-3 page research report and created a project. The topics included Adolf Hitler,
Einsatzgruppen, Judenrat, Auschwitz, and others. The projects included options such as: charcoal sketch, movie, magazine article, mural, TV newscast, and photo essay; the most popular option, by far, was the collage. Once the reports and projects were completed, 78 each student presented his work to the class. In this way, according to Mrs. Parker,
“Students get a good overview of Holocaust history.”
Mrs. Parker and Her Narrative Frames for the Holocaust
The Teacher, Mrs. Parker
My first knowledge of Mrs. Parker came from an article I read in the newspaper about the Holocaust literature unit she taught at Adams. I was immediately drawn to the article due to my research interests, and I was drawn to Mrs. Parker when I found out that both parents and students at Adams spoke highly of her despite the enormous amount of work she required. I spent 7 weeks with her in 2003 and 9 weeks in 2004, and during that time I came to consider her a friend.
Mrs. Parker was an 8th grade accelerated English teacher at Adams. In 2003, she
had only been at the school for two years, but she had been a teacher for nine. She had a
license in general education (grades 1-8), gifted (K-12), and was nearly finished with
courses for a Masters in Educational Administration when I met her in 2003; by the time
I went back in 2004, she had finished her Masters. Tall and blonde, Mrs. Parker was a
striking figure with a no-nonsense demeanor in the classroom. She always got right down
to the business at hand, rarely interjected personal stories while she taught, and true to
what parents and students told me before I began my study, she required a lot of her
students. She told me her motto was “Never work harder than the students.”
The Importance of the Holocaust: An Element of Her Narrative Framing
Mrs. Parker chose to include a unit on Holocaust literature after becoming
interested in the topic a few years earlier when she used anthologized excerpts from 79 Number the Stars (Lowry, 1989) in a sixth grade language arts class she taught. Number the Stars (Lowry, 1989) is a fictional narrative centering on one family’s attempt to save a Jewish girl, and is set within the larger framework of the Danish resistance fighting to save Denmark’s Jewry by ferrying them to safety in Sweden. It is certainly a story of triumph, just as the actual acts of Danish courage and decency were. This was her first experience of learning about the Holocaust. She explained,
I don’t even remember studying it when I was in school. Not in high school. Not
in elementary school. I never. And then, once I read that book, I started becoming
more interested in the whole history of what happened, so I started just delving
into it on my own. You know, reading different books and watching different
videos.
The fact that she had learned about the Holocaust so late in life seemed to propel her to want to teach it to her students. She explained that one of her goals in teaching the unit was just to make students aware that it happened. In this regard, she agreed with Nieto
(1994), who speaks of simple awareness as one goal of multicultural education. Mrs.
Parker’s dedication to learning about and teaching about the Holocaust was set in motion by reading Number the Stars (Lowry, 1989).
Besides simple awareness, there were other reasons she taught a unit of Holocaust literature. In an interview I had with her at the end of the unit in 2003, Mrs. Parker suggested tolerance and anti-bullying were goals she had for her students. She said, “I just think, um, tolerance is something [my students] don’t have much of. And if they can leave here [after studying the Holocaust] and be able to tell a kid who’s being a bully, 80 you know, ‘Knock it off!’ then that’s all I want.” For Mrs. Parker, the Holocaust literature unit was a way of getting people to stop bullying each other in the hallways of
Adams. In order to be reached, this goal required that students act in a certain way instead of just acquiring knowledge or believing in a certain way. At Adams, intervening between fellow students as they scuffled in the hall probably would not put the child at risk of incurring violence himself, but it would put self-esteem and peer acceptance at risk. This is why I characterize her goal as “altruistic risk-taking behavior" (cf. Fogelman,
1994; Oliner & Oliner, 1988).
Other goals of the unit included to 1) learn from history so that future atrocities can be averted; 2) learn the lesson that totalitarian governments are dangerous; and 3) know that the Holocaust was a religious persecution. She revealed these lessons in the excerpt below.
Karen So besides [Number the Stars], which seems to be a catalyst for you
becoming interested in [the Holocaust], what reasons do you keep being
interested in teaching the Holocaust?
Mrs. Parker I think it’s important that students know what happened in the past, so that
they can make a difference in the future. With the Holocaust, like I said, I
didn’t know that it even happened, so I think it’s important for them to
know that something like that could happen if one person takes too much
power or we give someone too much power, and we don’t stand up for
what’s right. You know, just the whole history of that with the religious 81 persecution. You know, because of your faith people were dying. You
know, I think it’s important for them to know that also.
In this interaction, Mrs. Parker drew upon different kinds of background knowledge, many of which were ideological and linked to social practices beyond this micro instantiation. Her first statement (“I think it’s important that students know what happened in the past, so that they can make a difference in the future”) echoes philosopher George Santayana’s famous line, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it” (Santayana, 1905, p. 284), variations of which I heard from scores of teachers and students. The saying is so much a part of general knowledge that it is normalized and probably only seriously questioned by historians. I did not, for instance, need her to clarify what she meant; I already knew. The underlying assumption here was that learning about the past will help students make a difference in the future. It is not at all clear how this would be done, but it was magically accepted by her and me.
In her second statement from this excerpt, Mrs. Parker said:
With the Holocaust, like I said, I didn’t know that it even happened, so I think it’s
important for them to know that something like that could happen if one person
takes too much power or we give someone too much power, and we don’t stand
up for what’s right.
This is an interesting grammatical construction. Mrs. Parker switched from talking about the Holocaust to talking about some future atrocity that “could” happen, a shift from a particular set of events to a yet unknown set of events. The connections between the two sets of events are conditions—lessons—that allow these kinds of things to happen. 82 Precisely, she claimed that future atrocities “could” happen if we allow someone like
Hitler to take too much power, if we give someone like Hitler to too much power, and if
“we don’t stand up for what’s right.” “What’s right” was advanced by Mrs. Parker as a straightforward concept.
I have just discussed six reasons why Mrs. Parker thought that it was important to teach a unit on Holocaust literature, as opposed to some other literature that satisfied the non-fiction literature standard: 1) so students would simply be aware it happened; 2) so they could make a difference in the future; 3) so they would stick up for people; 4) so they would know the dangers of one man taking too much power; 5) so they would know the dangers of giving one man to much power; and 6) so they would know the dangers of not standing up for what’s right. Her reasons include two lessons about proper behavior and four content-based lessons.
In the next two sections, I describe Mrs. Parker’s religious and historical frames, and how her historical frames affected her Holocaust teaching.
Mrs. Parker’s Religious Frames
Wittgenstein (1967) wrote, “One thinks that one is tracing the outline of reality, when one is merely tracing around and around the frame through which we look at it”
(114). One frame through which Mrs. Parker viewed the Holocaust was her Southern
Baptist faith. The first time I met her, she told me that her religion made her see the importance of the Holocaust once she was exposed to it. When I asked her why, she said,
“Because [the Jews] are God’s chosen people.” During an interview with her at the time 83 her students were discussing Night (Wiesel, 1984) in 2003, she began to discuss her reaction to what Elie went through:
Mrs. Parker I think what fascinates me is on a daily basis, sometimes things happen
and you think, “Oh, you know, why does God let that happen?” I can’t
imagine. I often wonder if I had gone through something like the
Holocaust, would I still believe? Would I still have that strong faith? It
amazes me that some people are able to have experienced that. And I
think, “Would I be that strong? Could I be that strong?” I often wonder
about that.
Karen So it caused you to question your own faith in a way?
Mrs. Parker It did. Not necessarily, “Would I believe?” I am sure I would always
believe, even in a concentration camp, but could I worship and be
honorable going through those circumstances? I don’t know. I would like
to think that I would be. I think I am strong enough in my faith, but I don’t
think you know unless you are going through something like that.”
Mrs. Parker posed the theological problem of the Holocaust as a personal one, as many of her students did as well (see Chapter 6). Going back to an earlier statement of Mrs.
Parker’s, I wanted to pin down the frame she used to think of “the whole history of…religious persecution” (p. 17), not knowing whether she was referring to Christian persecution of the Jews throughout history, Nazi persecution of the Jews, or both. I asked her if she taught the history of Christian antisemitism. I discovered that when she was referring to the history of religious persecution, she was actually referring the persecution 84 of Christians and to what she believed was Hitler’s religious hatred of Jews, which, according to Mrs. Parker, sprang from his belief that his grandfather was Jewish.6 She
had never thought about the role of the churches in historical antisemitism. When I asked
her about it, she said:
Like I said, I am pretty naïve and optimistic, but since you are asking me the
question [about teaching the Christian roots of antisemitism] then I assume either
they—well, that’s my guess—they did nothing to help.
This excerpt shows both a religious and a historical frame (or at least a lack of a historical
frame) through which she viewed the Holocaust. Religiously, she carried with her the
assumption of Christian beneficence, an optimism leading her to believe that, at worst,
Christians (“they”) refrained from helping Jews or other victims during the Holocaust. As
she said, however, she was just assuming, and this assumption can be traced to her
expectations of Christian behavior. As her response shows, she lacks a historical frame
through which to interpret and teach about the role and nature of antisemitism in the
Holocaust. I discuss this in the next section.
Mrs. Parker’s Historical Frames
That Mrs. Parker did not have a historical frame for understanding antisemitism in the diaspora led to misconceptions in the classroom, misconceptions that were never overcome. One such situation had to do with an innocuous misunderstanding about
something Dr. Dussel said in The Diary of Anne Frank:
6 According to Dawidowicz (1975), the mystery of Hitler’s paternal grandfather is made more salient by doubts it raises about his pure ancestry. She goes on to say that “nearly all of the evidence is in dispute” (p. 5). 85 Forgive me if I haven’t really expressed my gratitude to all of you. This has been
such a shock to me. I’d always thought of myself as Dutch. I was born in Holland.
My father was born in Holland, and my grandfather. And now…after all these
years…. (Goodrich & Hackett, 1994, p. 522)
One student, Trip (Adams, 2003), remarked to the class that it truly must have been shocking for Dr. Dussel to have just discovered he was Jewish, indicating that he thought being Jewish and being Dutch were mutually exclusive, rather than Dr. Dussel simply feeling marginalized as a Dutch citizen. Without a background regarding the Jewish diaspora or knowledge of the Nuremberg Laws, Dussel’s statement could hardly be interpreted otherwise. Providing historical background in this case would have helped students overcome this misconception. Incidences of greater consequence also occurred.
In both 2003 and 2004, in class discussions and in their journals, students repeatedly asked, “Why the Jews?” I append one such discussion below7:
Joe I still don’t get why, why, why Hitler had such hatred toward Jews that he
would kill, or try to kill them all.
Mrs. Parker [To the whole class] Did you guys figure out where his hatred of Jews
may have come from?
Wood I know! [excited]. His grandma was Jewish and she used to beat him.
Mrs. Parker I didn't hear that. I heard that his grandma worked for a Jewish family, and
his grandmother became pregnant with Hitler's mother, and there was
7 Throughout the dissertation, I use the forward slash ( / ) to indicate the place in the speech act where someone was interrupted by another person. 86 never a grandfather around so they are assuming that maybe she had an
affair with the Jewish man. There are many theories.
Wood Yeah, I read that his grandma used to abuse him.
Kirk Well, he believed that Jews were the reason behind all of Germany's
problems. Did he actually have information backing that up?
Mrs. Parker I don't know, he was probably/
Wood A lot of it was due to his deep seated prejudices.
Mrs. Parker Right. You know what I think probably happened because a lot of the
Jewish families were very wealthy because of the businesses they had.
And then you had Germans who were very poor and suffering. So he kind
of pointed at them and said, “Look! They are making money. We are all
poor and struggling.” And he kind of pointed a finger towards them.
Kirk Like a jealousy kind of thing?
Mrs. Parker I think he played upon people’s jealousy.
It seemed to be accepted that the Holocaust occurred because Hitler hated Jews, so the new question was, “Why did he hate Jews so much?” Joe began the above discussion of
Hitler in 2003 after the students had just listened to a classmate give a research presentation on Hitler. Mrs. Parker opened up Joe’s question to the whole class, and
Wood and Mrs. Parker bandied about two “theories” purported to explain his extreme hatred for Jews (propelling him toward genocide), both of which included versions of his ancestry. Kirk, on the other hand, tried to move the discussion in a different direction— toward a scapegoating theory. Finally, Mrs. Parker offered the last theory, that Hitler and 87 Germans were jealous of Jews. No one offered an adequate historical frame, such as the long history of Christian hatred of Jews, for understanding antisemitism. Ever.
Antisemitism is often defined as an irrational hatred of Jews, and one thing that each speaker tried to do in the above discussion was come up with some rational (perhaps not adequate, but rational) reason why Hitler would hate Jews so much (he was beaten by a Jew, his mother was the bastard child of a Jew, Jews caused the problems with
Germany, and Jews controlled all the money and the poor Germans were jealous). To borrow a phrase from Lang (2005), Joe set forth a “mischievous question”—not necessarily mischievous in intent, but mischievous in practice because to ask “Why the
Jews?” anticipates a reasonable answer for genocide. Even if these students read about and understood the whole history of antisemitism (which I think is a good idea), Jew hatred would still not be rational, only situated in such a way that students would no longer think it sprang from the mind of Hitler in the 20th century.
Another thing all of these theories had in common was a belief that Hitler
intended to annihilate the Jews for some reason emanating from personal affiliation with
Jews. The idea that Hitler’s guiding purpose was to exterminate Jews in a systematic way
is called the intentionalist view. Mrs. Parker placed a lot of weight on the actions of “one
person,” and this was characteristic of her teaching throughout the unit. For example, one
student in 2003 was complaining that she still didn’t understand why the Holocaust came
to be, and Mrs. Parker answered her, “Hitler hated Jews, and he would stop at nothing to
see them dead.” Mrs. Parker may be using “Hitler” to mean something like “the Nazi 88 death machine,” but the students picked up this habit themselves, and they didn’t have a deeper understanding with which to inflect “Hitler” beyond the person of Hitler.
The above example and the previous excerpt about “Why the Jews?” illustrate the intentionalist frame through which many of Mrs. Parker’s students viewed the Holocaust.
Intentionalists (e.g. Dawidowicz, 1975; Goldhagen, 1997; Hilberg, 1991) place Hitler’s
(and other upper level leaders in the Nazi regime) intentions to annihilate European
Jewry at the center of the genocide. Structuralists (e.g. Schleunes, 1970) believe instead that the road to Auschwitz was indeed twisted and were it not for the ad hoc decisions and actions of millions of individual Europeans, the genocide would have been impossible. Stone ( 2003) provides a brief discussion of a third position, what Browning
(1992) calls moderate functionalism and what Burrin (1994) calls conditional intentionalism; within these views “decision-making procedures at a local level are seen as precipitating mass murder—at different times in different places—but only within the framework of a universally accepted racism and antisemitism driven by the Third Reich’s leadership, above all Himmler and the SS” (Stone, 2003, p. 69). Students in Mrs. Parker’s classes were not exposed to these different theoretical frames.
Besides Mrs. Parker’s intentionalist frame, she also discovered while we spoke that perhaps she had yet another frame that influenced her choice of the Holocaust as a topic. I asked her why she used the literature of the Holocaust as a vehicle for her lessons instead of literature of the American Indians or African slaves.
Mrs. Parker They’re not as popular of a topic as the Holocaust.
Karen And why is that? 89 Mrs. Parker I think it’s because we don’t want to take responsibility for our actions.
It’s easier to look at Hitler and Germany and what he did, and not look at
ourselves. Or not internalize that, as far as, you know, we treated people
this way. So I think, a lot of times in our history books we don’t want to
necessarily talk about the negative acts that we’ve done as a country.
Karen And why is that?
Mrs. Parker Because we don’t take responsibility maybe?
Karen So what you’re saying is the Holocaust then is a more popular topic
because we don’t have to take responsibility?
Mrs. Parker I think so. We can give it to other people. I never thought of that before
but you’re right, yeah. We can give it to Europe. We can say, “They stood
by and watched this happen. We were over here and we had no idea. And
we liberated the camps,” you know. It might be easier that way. I never
thought about it that way before.
Karen Does that surprise you?
Mrs. Parker Yeah, it does [laughing]. I mean, you know, like I say I’ve always been
kind of naïve, I think in some areas, but it does make sense.
One of her goals in teaching about the Holocaust, as we saw earlier, was simply to make her students aware that it happened because that in itself was important, but this exchange is interesting because she discovered another reason why she may have picked it. I thought I was parroting back to her what she was telling me when I said, “So what you’re saying is the Holocaust then is a more popular topic because we don’t take 90 responsibility?” She said that the Holocaust was a more popular topic than atrocities against the Native Americans and African slaves; and she said that we don’t teach those topics as much because we don’t want to take responsibility for our actions. It’s a small step between what she actually said, and what I credited her with saying: “the Holocaust then is a more popular topic because we don’t have to take responsibility.” Interestingly,
Mrs. Parker came to the same conclusion that Peter Novick (1999) did about why we put so much emphasis on teaching the Holocaust in the U.S.: we get to be the heroes.
In the first section of this chapter, I described my entrée into Adams Junior High and painted Adams Township and Adams Junior High with a broad stroke, looking at demographic statistics of the school district. Next, I moved in closer to view the classroom learning activities and the scope of the Holocaust unit. Then I introduced the teacher, Mrs. Parker, and examined her reasons for teaching the Holocaust literature unit.
One of Mrs. Parker’s stated goals was tolerance, a lesson often associated with teaching about the Holocaust (Danks & Rabinsky, 1999). Finally, I explored her religious and historical narrative frames regarding the Holocaust, including her view on Christian antisemitism, Hitler’s role as a perpetrator, and the reasons behind the ubiquity of
Holocaust units. In the last section of this chapter, students expressed their narrative frames about tolerance and intolerance in and out of school. I included this section because Mrs. Parker’s goals stemmed from her direct observation of students’ intolerant behaviors and because I wanted to paint a complex picture of the contexts in which
Holocaust literature units, indeed all learning, are played out. 91 The Faces of Tolerance and Intolerance at Adams in 2003 and 2004
Race
The official Adams Junior High School mission statement included a dedication to tolerance and a goal of teaching all students the skills needed to participate in a pluralistic democracy, and most students at Adams did seem to practice acceptance of diversity. For example, in 2004 when a new family moved into the school district, teachers and students alike commented upon how fortunate they were to have another
Black family, and when the new kid, Dirk, played football—and was good—he became an instant celebrity on campus. The general feeling was that most students wanted to be his friend, but not everyone felt the same way. At one football practice, another player went up to Dirk and shouted, “KKK!” When the coaches heard about it, the offender was kicked off the football team. This display of hatred was not tolerated at Adams Junior
High. When I spoke with him, the principal at Adams lamented the fact that his students were not exposed to the diversity that he was exposed to growing up: “Whites and
Blacks, gays and straights, rich and poor—we all lived together. It was just normal.”
Because of this lack of diversity, the principal thought it was important for students to be exposed to as much difference as possible through subject area classes. He liked Mrs.
Parker’s unit on Holocaust literature because he thought it caused students to confront the dangers of intolerance.
In 2004, Mrs. Parker told me that everyone—boys and girls—wanted to sit by
Dirk (the only African American in both of Mrs. Parker’s classes). She was having great difficulty with seating arrangements because certain girls who sat next to him “just 92 flirt[ed] the whole time instead of doing work, and then neither one of them finish[ed].”
He was a celebrity football player and was popular with many students. I witnessed similar attitudes towards two Latino students—both boys—at the school, neither of whom was in Mrs. Parker’s class. Race didn’t seem to be an issue with most students in
Mrs. Parker’s classes, except in the sense that it was exotic and attractive. In both 2003 and 2004, I captured classroom discussions about prejudice that provided more information about how Adams students thought of race.
After students independently read Night (Wiesel, 1982), they met in small groups to answer a list of questions Mrs. Parker had given them. After each group completed the task, Mrs. Parker brought the class back together to discuss the answers. The excerpts below relate to the last question on that list. Though there are scores of things to analyze in this text, for the purposes of my argument, I was interested in what the participants thought about racial prejudice.
Mrs. Parker The next question: Is there any prejudice in our community?
Stephen I think like our city, I really don’t see anybody, like actually
discriminating against races or religions. I think nowadays, in my
generation, not many people care anymore.
Mrs. Parker Well, religiously you don’t think there is any prejudice?
Stephen I don’t even know what, well, what religion someone is.
Mrs. Parker Okay.
Ben I don’t really see racism, but after 9/11 the Islamic people were
discriminated against. 93 [Students went on to talk about a mosque in the city that was vandalized,
Muslims being profiled at airports, and the use of the word “gay” at
Adams.]
Fish I know hundreds of people who are prejudiced against gays and, you
know, groups like that. Isn’t that prejudice? “That’s gay” [mimicking
people who use these words]. That’s kind of a/
Nancy People use it [calling someone gay] as mainly to say, “You’re stupid.” I
don’t think they really mean that like a gay person is stupid. It’s just kind
of what society made the word—to mean stupid.
Alex It means retarded.
Fish Yeah, but when you say something like that, you’re like, “Dude, why did
you call him gay?” And people are like, “I hate them faggots!” [yelling]
Class [Laughs]
Fish I hear that a lot.
Mrs. Parker So I think, I agree with what you are saying. I think that there are some
prejudices in our community for certain groups of people.
JoAnne But they are not about religion or race.
Mrs. Parker But we talked about prejudice against Muslims in this country.
Fish And gays.
[They continue talking about people who are gay and the treatment of
Muslims after 9/11. This discussion ends when Mrs. Parker asks students
to share their favorite quotations from Night (Wiesel, 1982)] 94 A look at Elie’s particular Holocaust experiences is an occasion for a closer examination of prejudice in the students’ own backyard. Stephen had difficulty coming up with a particular prejudice and made the generalization that people in his generation don’t care about racial and religious differences. Ben raised the issue of post-9/11 prejudice against
Muslims, but most of the lines of the discussion dealt with prejudice against people who are gay, and what calling someone “gay” meant at Adams Junior High. Race was outright dismissed as a category of prejudice three times during this discussion (Stephen, Ben, and
JoAnne). Of those who spoke, no one found racial prejudice to be an issue or problem.
In 2004, Mrs. Parker had her students answer the same question after they read
Night (Wiesel, 1982). As in the prior year, students mentioned how “some people” have hatred toward Muslims and how the use of the word “gay” isn’t meant to be derogatory against gays/lesbians. Again, they didn’t even consider race, but this time I explicitly brought it up. When I did, they turned their heads—some openly, others surreptitiously— to see what Dirk’s reaction would be. I said, “White is a race, isn’t it?”
Frank Um, this is related. Do any of you watch the old Saturday Night Lives?
Class Yeah.
Frank Okay. Eddie Murphy is dressed as a White dude, and he goes into this
coffee shop to buy a newspaper, and the guy says, “Just take it.” He says,
“Its free, have fun, now go!” Same thing at the bank. He doesn’t have to
fill out any paper work for a loan. He doesn’t need a credit history.
Karen What’s the point?
Evangeline That we get treated better than other races? 95 Annabelle But we don’t. Not really. We just have different experiences.
Karen Do you think being middle class and White provides you with different
experiences?
Annabelle No. I think it’s just what you’ve been through. If you’ve grown up with
different people and experiences.
Frank I think she is trying to say that it depends upon how you are raised.
Ted My parents work hard to give me this Abercrombie sweatshirt.
Class [Laughs]
Karen Do you think race and social class affect the way people are raised in the
U.S.?
Annabelle We didn’t put them there in the poor side of town. Everyone can work to
get an Abercrombie shirt, or sweatshirt, or whatever. Ask Dirk, he isn’t
discriminated against. Are you? [This was said very calmly, with no
agitation her voice.]
Dirk I have Abercrombie shirts, if that’s what you mean.
Class [Laughs]
What struck me in this discussion was how intently everyone was listening, but how few people volunteered to participate. This was a touchy issue, and the students were perhaps more nervous because Dirk was in the room. It seemed like they worried that talking about race would offend him.
Frank began answering my question about White being a race by calling up the text of an old television comedy program. The Saturday Night Live skit became the 96 foundational text for discussing Whiteness and Blackness, and based upon that,
Evangeline tentatively suggested that the point of the skit was that “we” White folks get treated better than other races. Annabelle disagreed with Evangeline, not about the point of the skit but about the lived world. In order to support her contention that Whites are not treated better than Blacks, she advanced the argument she stuck with throughout the rest of the discussion: “We just have different experiences.” Clearly, with my own agenda in mind, I asked Annabelle to consider the possibility that race and class did have an impact on the way people are treated. Especially considering the fact that they had just read Night (Wiesel, 1982), I thought the point about systematic oppression would be particularly salient. In response, she confidently reasserted her initial opinion. Perhaps recognizing my perplexity, Frank offered to simplify Annabelle’s argument: how people are treated depends upon how they are raised. Ted then, presumably in an effort to address the social class part of my question, defended his Abercrombie sweatshirt on the grounds that his parents “worked hard” to afford this luxury. Ted’s comment seemed to break some of the tension in the room. Most of the kids laughed. The reason they laughed may have more to do with the way he pulled his sweatshirt and protruded his lower lip, as if to mockingly say, “Your question is threatening my way of life!” Unrelenting, I slightly rephrased my question and posed it once more, completely disregarding Ted’s comment. But Annabelle didn’t let me get away with that. Like Ted, she addressed the social class part of my question by insisting that economic status is directly linked to work ethic and by implication not social structures. Annabelle enlisted Dirk’s help to prove her point, which now included both social class and race. He dodged the question 97 by cracking a joke, which elicited the intended response—laughter. In a later exercise when they were asked to think about how their race affected their lives, Dirk wrote, “I’m
Black and I get a lot of prejudice all the time.” Of the 44 other respondents, both male and female, only 12 students thought that being White affected their lives, the others thought White was “average,” “just normal,” and said it “doesn’t affect my viewpoint.”
The Abercrombie shirt at Adams represented the fruit of middle class labors, but as Dirk attested, owning Abercrombies didn’t make him immune to racial prejudice.
Race probably wasn’t a category of prejudice for them (at least one they were willing to talk about) because, as Annabelle’s comments showed, they may have believed that everybody has the same opportunity if they were raised properly. This really stuck out in my mind as I thought back on the time I spent at River Hill Academy, a traditionally African American school, because the view of race at Adams was starkly different from the view of race at River Hill. I speak to this explicitly in Chapter 5.
Framing the Other at Adams
While the students at Adams didn’t mention the racial tensions in the city or even seem to think there was such a thing as racial discrimination, they openly made other kinds of distinctions between their fellow classmates. There were the popular kids— known to be the rich kids, the cheerleaders, and males who are good athletes; then there were the “Nordamns”—a pejorative term students used to refer to the “trashy hillbillies” from North Adams; and there were the Freaks—a group of students who all hung out together, wore black from head to toe, and sported face piercings and studded leather 98 jewelry. The same football coaches who kicked the “KKK”-shouting kid off the football team, forbade any of the players from associating with the Freaks.
There was a well-developed enfiguring of “Goth” at Adams, but even so, narrative frames for “Freak” differed from person to person. The Freaks were conceived of as trouble by the coaches, and the players began to internalize this dislike. I caught the following on tape in 2003 when the students were supposed to be working on a small group activity.
Eric Susie went Goth [another name students use to refer to Freaks]
Kate No! She was always so nice and friendly.
Eric I know and now/
Kate How do you know?
Eric I saw her. I didn’t notice at first, and I was talking to her, and she
told me she was hanging out with Travis and the Gothic people.
And/
Kate Was her eyebrow pierced? [laughing]
Eric and she told me she guessed she was Gothic now. Nnn…No
[answering the question about the eyebrow piercing].
Kate Oh well. She was always so nice and, um/
Eric I know. Coach said if he ever sees us talking to a Goth, he will
kick us off.
Kate That’s weird. Maybe, maybe she needs [indiscernible] should hang
out with her. 99 Eric She doesn’t seem happy anymore.
Kate Hey, wait, this is on tape! Uh oh [laughs].
Obvious from the transcript above is that Eric and Kate have several pieces of background knowledge in common. Fairclough (1995) provides a framework of four types of background knowledge that people use to make sense of discourse: knowledge of language codes and norms of language use, situations, and the world. First, both shared knowledge of the language code “Gothic.” Neither indexed architectural elements like flying buttresses, nor did they reference the literary resurrection of “The Gothic” in 18th century English literature. Instead, Eric and Kate knew that “Goth” refered to people who were usually unfriendly, evidenced by the fact that after Eric dropped the news, Kate replied that “[Susie] was always so nice and friendly,” as if being Gothic proposed a disjuncture from her prior way of being in the world. This reply was predicated on the shared language code of “Gothic,” which pointed to a partially shared knowledge of what being Gothic meant in their school. We learned that Gothics have eyebrow piercings and tended to be identifiable by dress. In this case, Susie did not look particularly Gothic because she had to tell Eric that she guessed she was Gothic. Kate and Eric did not share the same knowledge of the situation. To Eric, Susie going Gothic meant that he could no longer be her friend, even if he thought she may be troubled (“She doesn’t seem happy anymore”). Of course, his perception of her state of mind may have been colored by the stereotype of Gothics to which he had been exposed. Kate did not share the same
“knowledge of the situation” with Eric. She proposed that they hang out with her, presumably in order to help her out of her situation. She even commented that it was 100 weird that the coaches would make a rule that forbade fraternizing with particular people.
Kate could also mean that it was weird that Susie went Gothic.
Intolerance of Freaks continued in 2004. One young woman in Mrs. Parker’s class was the object of stereotyping on many levels. She named herself Nebula for the study, and she was an articulate, outspoken, funny, smart, and pretty girl. She also happened to be a member of the cheerleading squad, accelerated English, the Freaks, and the community of North Adams—all things that triggered particular impressions of her at
Adams Junior High. After reading about and discussing stereotypes of Jews throughout history, we engaged in a discussion of the locally situated stereotypes at Adams.
Karen What stereotypes do you have?
Samantha If you are in an accelerated class, everything comes easy.
Karen That’s a good one. That certainly is not true. What other stereotypes do
you have?
Nebula I’m working on this one, but that all cheerleaders are like ditzy and
popular.
Karen Working on dispelling that stereotype?
Nebula Right.
Annabelle People that look different and don’t dress like you are weird.
Nebula Us! [Frank raises his arm, hand in a fist in solidarity with Nebula]
Rick Her and him [pointing to Nebula and Frank] are Goths, I’m just saying.
Karen Nebula and Frank? Okay, tell me about it.
Nebula People just think we are weird. 101 Karen Why?
Nebula They call us Freaks because we wear black.
Karen Gosh. I surely qualify. I wear black every day.
Frank I guess you’re a Freak.
Class [Laughs]
Karen Yeah, I gave you that freaky story “The Lottery” to read, too.
Class [Laughs]
Mrs. Parker I’ve noticed that where you live is important.
Nebula Yeah. Like North Adams gets treated like we’re hillbillies. They think
everyone who lives in North Adams lives in a trailer park. I don’t live in a
trailer park.
Karen Oh, so you live in North Adams; you’re in accelerated classes; you’re a
Freak and a cheerleader! You have like four strikes against you, don’t
you?
Nebula Yeah [laughs]. I am Exhibit A, and I am guilty on all counts.
Annabelle But they all contradict each other. Cheerleader and like Goth and then
North Adams and accelerated English. You’re not supposed to be smart if
you’re a Nordamn.
Geoffrey But you really can’t stereotype people because we are all different in our
own special way.
Class [Groans] 102 Nebula The problem is the administration of the school treats me like all
suspicious because I wear black, but I’m in school plays, a cheerleader, on
honor role. None of that matters. They search my locker. Ask me, “Where
are you going young lady?” I am “under suspicion” [air quotes]. Since we
are the “children” [air quotes], and we don’t have much say in what goes
on with bigger people; they just think we are just lesser beings than they
are. Like, “I have power over you. You will do what I say!” I think we
should boycott something!
Frank Yeah!
Unlike the first example of stereotyping behavior at Adams (Kate, Eric, and
Susie), this one was a public discussion that had followed upon the heels of a weighty discussion of Jewish stereotypes from Medieval history through the present. The shared language code for “Goth” or “Freak” is that they are people who wear black.
Interestingly, the non-Gothic people call these black-wearers “Goths,” but the Gothic people refer to themselves as Freaks.
This stretch of text is notable for spelling out several stereotypes—in fact the most commonly voiced narrative frames for fellow students—and they all happened to exist in bodily form in Nebula who was in accelerated classes, lived in North Adams, was a cheerleader, and a Freak. As in the previous year, the stereotype of Freak included being weird and wearing black; this year, however, Nebula presented her treatment by administrators (“under suspicion,” having her locker searched, being stopped in the hall).
She attributed to administrators the belief that children are “lesser beings,” and she 103 characterized them as lording their power over all students, not just Freaks. Students and adults in positions of authority (coaches and administrators) stereotyped Freaks in both
2003 and 2004. To Nebula, then, the frame of Freak included elements that those outside of the group didn’t necessarily associate with “Goth.”
The examples of racial tolerance (and intolerance), Gothic intolerance, stereotyping of the “hillbillies” referred to pejoratively as Nordamns, and gay bashing, presents a complicated and conflicting web of social structures at Adams Junior High.
Though largely separated from the racial tensions “downtown”—both geographically and racially—there was no shortage of Others for students and even some faculty, to openly disparage. Though they were discouraged from racial intolerance, it could be argued that with 98% of the population being White, racial diversity did not present a threat to the overall school culture, and ignoring or romanticizing differences is different than embracing them. It is within this cultural climate that Mrs. Parker taught her unit of
Holocaust literature.
Summary
The purpose of this chapter was three-fold. First, it provided for understanding the findings in Chapters 6, 7, and 8 by describing how the Holocaust literature unit unfolded.
The second purpose was to provide a basis for comparison between Adams and River
Hill, particularly by comparing a few basic elements between sites: the demographic information and the teachers’ narratives that influence teaching the Holocaust. The third purpose of the chapter was to examine narrative frames that related to tolerance or injustice that were expressed in the classroom. Summarized below are the data that fall 104 into the categories of 1) demographic data and teacher’s reasons for teaching the
Holocaust, and 2) narrative frames of tolerance and intolerance.
Adams Township is a suburban community in the Midwest and located 20 miles from down town. Adams Junior High is part of a small school district that includes 98%
White people and has only a 3% free or reduced lunch rate. Mrs. Parker taught the
Holocaust literature unit 1) so students would simply be aware it happened; 2) so they could make a difference in the future; 3) so they would stick up for people; 4) so they would know the dangers of one man taking too much power; 5) so they would know the dangers of giving one man too much power; and 6) so they would know the dangers of not standing up for what’s right.
Mrs. Parker had religious and historical frames that affected the way she read the
Holocaust. Her Southern Baptist faith was significant as she read the Holocaust in that she questioned whether she would remain faithful if she were in the same position as
Elie, and she had an assumption of Christian beneficence that compelled her to think that
Christians would not want to harm Jews. She also had three historical frames that influenced the way she viewed the Holocaust: She lacked an understanding of Christian antisemitism; she had an intentionalist view of the Holocaust; she believed that Hitler hated Jews enough to set genocide in motion because his grandfather was a Jew who didn’t marry his grandmother.
My purpose wasn’t to look at students’ narrative frames that influenced their responses to Holocaust literature because they are covered in Chapters 6, 7, and 8; however, students did have other frames relating to tolerance and intolerance. Students at 105 Adams in general had a frame for racial diversity that welcomed as well as exoticized the few racial minorities in the township. Annabelle and Ted expressed individual narratives of progress related to race (Barton & Levstik, 2004; Beach, 1997, 2003). In other words, they believed that anyone, if they worked hard enough, could move up in the world. They were resistant to thinking of systemic oppression. The other students were remarkably silent on this matter, but no one thought that race was a category of discrimination.
Students also had narrative frames of Others in the school: trashy hillbillies, popular kids, and notably, “Freaks.” The frame for Freak was different depending upon which side of the black leather you were on. The chapter ended with mention of the complex web of narrative frames present at Adams and in which the Holocaust literature unit was located. 106
Chapter 5
River Hill Academy
Context, Teachers, Narrative Frames
The Auschwitz tattoo reminds me of stories Harriet Tubman had, you know, that scar
on her head. And the stripes on the backs of slaves.
~Ms. France (River Hill Academy)
Religion is always there. It is always there. It is just like race, in this city especially.
~Ms. France (River Hill Academy)
Twenty miles down the interstate highway from Adams Township, stood River
Hill Academy, a stalwart structure with fierce stone lions guarding the entrance. The
River Hill section of town was a large community only a few miles from the business center of downtown, not actually on the river, or on a hill above the river; instead it was nestled between downtown and the first ring suburbs and included a university, hospitals, several high schools, businesses, and a variety of residences. The housing choices in 107 River Hill included HUD developments, student housing, and tidy rows of bungalows placed so closely together that at night it was hard to see where one ended and the next began.
On this day, the first day of my study at River Hill Academy, people waited at city bus stops all the way up and down the main thoroughfare of River Hill, mostly women, some with small children in tow. Along the main street, there were only people who were African American going about their business, waiting for buses, walking into restaurants, but as soon as I turned the corner into the university section, nearly everyone was White. This racial divide from street to street was emblematic of the racial divide that had plagued this city for at least the last 30 years. In the recent past, the ACLU condemned the city for its policing inequities, charging it with racial profiling directed toward unfair surveillance—and even murder—of African American people. In the 1970s a lawsuit against the school district’s de facto segregated schools resulted in a new magnet high school program, which succeeded in creating some high-performing schools, but did not, by and large, result in integrated ones.
Shortly after I began my study at River Hill Academy, which was one of the magnet schools created to bring the school district into compliance with desegregation laws, the plaintiff in the original lawsuit against the district came to speak to the students at River Hill Academy. She told the students that over 30 years after the verdict in her favor, the schools of this city were still not integrated. In an interview with one of the students who heard this speech, we talked about this special speaker. Kate, one of the students you will hear from again, said, 108 I think yesterday [the special speaker] was saying about integrating city schools.
She was talking about racial issues in schools, and the segregation laws. And I
was thinking, “Sure they integrated,” but then they really are not that integrated
after all. We don’t have any. We only have African Americans in our class. We
don’t have Caucasians or anything. Look around you.
Indeed, in the classroom where we were speaking, there were no Whites except for the teacher, Ms. France, and myself. Of Ms. France’s 70 10th grade students, two were White,
and everyone else was Black. Like Adams Junior High, River Hill Academy had little diversity; 98% of students at River Hill were minorities, so the racial statistics were
virtually the inverse of those at Adams, and the economic situation of River Hill students
was bleak. There was a 60% free or reduced lunch rate, and the principal estimated that
75% of the students would qualify, but did not or would not fill out the forms. Ms. France
said that only 10 of her 70 students did not qualify for free lunch. River Hill was a grade
B school (one level below Adams), with 80% of the graduates going on to college. Ms.
France said that all of her 70 students were planning to go to college, but also added that
15 of her 70 students, a little over 21%, failed at least one subject in 2004 and had to go
to summer school.
The school district within which River Hill Academy was a model school
included over 45,000 students. River Hill Academy was composed of several smaller
schools, and only 70 students were part of the school-within-a-school to which my
participants belonged. As freshmen and sophomores, they had the same team of teachers
for English, science, math, and social studies, and then as juniors, they moved onto a new 109 team that stayed with them for the next two years. The team structure was designed to provide academic and personal support for students, but students could be, and were, kicked out of River Hill for not performing well academically. Once removed from this magnet school, they were sent to other district schools, depending upon where they lived, that were in all likelihood neither high performing nor desegregated.
After parking on the street, I approached the school. A buzzer protected the front doors from unwanted visitors. They buzzed me in. Security guards posted just inside the door looked me over, determined I was okay, I suppose, and let me pass without a word.
River Hill’s main school building was over 150 years old and featured an ornate façade with intricate stone work. The inside was impressively open, with high ceilings and detailed woodworking. Each classroom was distinctive, some with bay windows overlooking the city and others with custom cabinet work.
I checked in at the main office, and then went to Ms. France’s classroom. The class was already in session, so I tried to walk quietly to the back of the room, which was difficult because my shoes made loud noises as they struck the hardwood floors. Students looked me over, but not with too much curiosity because they had seen me in the school before. I had supervised student teachers placed at River Hill and had even supervised an intern placed under Ms. France’s mentorship. This intern had finished just a few months before my study began.
After finishing a vocabulary lesson, Ms. France introduced me to the class, and I explained the study to them. Some students looked down at their desks the whole time I spoke. Others showed interest in the study and like the kids at Adams wanted to be in my 110 “book.” One student raised his hand to ask a question. “What is your name?” I asked. He told me his name is Sammy. When many in the class erupted in laughter, I realized that he had already decided upon and begun to use his pseudonym. Only half of the students in Ms. France’s first period class wanted to look at the assent/consent forms, and this trend continued through her four classes. In the end, 35 of the 70 students enrolled in the study.
In the days to come, a disturbing thing happened that made me feel like an interloper at River Hill. Luke, a student who chose to become a part of the study, read an email aloud to the class from the front of the room. Let me sketch out the contents of the email. He began by saying that many Whites think we African Americans should go back to Africa. “Fine,” the email continued, “but then you White folks would miss out on all the fine contributions we have made to the U.S.” Luke continued reading about George
Washington Carver, Martin Luther King, Langston Hughes, Maya Angelou, about carbon filaments, train station communication systems, and even the super soaker. As he read, the students were laughing because the email said things like: “Without Blacks, your
White trains would crash into each other.” With each new quip that Luke introduced, the class, almost en masse, would turn around and look at me, as if they were ethnographers
(hooks, 1992), to see the reaction on my face. I was disturbed that they thought I might be indignant. I pretended not to notice, and self-consciously now, kept a smile on my face and looked directly at Luke. I was just as amused as everyone else in the room, but the fact that I was clearly perceived as Other, made me uncomfortable, and my presence may have made them uncomfortable, at least at first. 111 Though I did manage to form bonds with many students during my six weeks at the school, there was usually a palpable distance between the students and me. No doubt, this fact affected the data I was able to collect. For one thing, I don’t think the students exposed their thinking to me as readily as the students at Adams did. On the other hand, I think some students felt pressured to perform for me when I asked them if they would like to be interviewed, as if I were somehow the boss. Once aware of this power dynamic,
I emphasized—more than usual—that no one had to participate and that anyone could refuse to answer any question at any time. None of the participants opted out of being interviewed, and only one student decided to “pass” on a question I asked her. I have no doubt that the data would have been somewhat different had I been one of the group instead of an outsider. This limitation is a serious one, and hence my findings should be read with this in mind.
Learning Activities and Curriculum during the Holocaust Unit
Within this section, I present data that show how Ms. France structured her class time in general and her Holocaust unit in particular. This section describes the kinds of activities her students were used to taking part in and the seminar structure that they used only once or twice a quarter. Further, I describe the scope of Ms. France’s Holocaust literature unit.
Class Activities
Ms. France had a number of routines in her classroom: student-led vocabulary lessons, reading study guides, and seminars. The first 10-15 minutes of each 72 minute class period was used for a student-led vocabulary lesson. Each student was assigned a 112 word and a day on which to present it. On their own, students created lesson plans for their words that were then pre-approved by Ms. France. On their specified days, students carried out their pre-approved lessons. A typical lesson would include revealing the word, asking someone in the class to look it up, and then requiring a short journal entry—giving the students an opportunity to use the word in sentences or think of as many examples of the word as they could. The list of words was culled from the relevant reading, with a few
SAT words sprinkled in.
For each book that they read in class, students completed a study guide; so, for example, for Night (Wiesel, 1982), there were nine sets of questions corresponding to the nine unnamed chapters. Students were to read the chapter and answer the questions for homework (which were almost all factual-type questions), and then in class the next day, they would go over the questions. The following excerpt illustrates what one of these question-and-answer sessions looked like. It contains a question about moral reasoning, and within the regular class format questions such as this were not as frequently raised as were factual questions. The section of Night that is the subject of question 3 in Chapter 6 deals with the death march that started in Auschwitz and, for survivors, ended at
Buchenwald. As Elie and his father were resting in a shed during a respite from the forced march, a beloved rabbi came in and asked if anyone had seen his son. Elie realized that the rabbi’s son had deliberately left his father when the young man saw his father getting weak. Elie said, 113 His son had seen him losing ground, limping, staggering back to the rear of the
column. He had seen him. And he had continued to run out in front, letting the
distance between them grow greater. (p. 86)
When Elie came to this realization, despite himself, a prayer rose up in his throat asking
God to never let him leave his father behind like Rabbi Eliahou’s son did. What follows is a discussion of this stretch of Night.
Ms. France Chapter 6, ah, any questions about anything in particular?
Myron Number 3, what formal realization did Elie come to regarding
Rabbi Eliahou and his son? How did Elie respond to that?
Shelaina I said like when they was running, Elie had remembered that the
son was trying to get away from his father.
Ms. France Yeah, let’s look on the bottom of page 81 [she read the passage].
Kate It’s later on page 86 in the third paragraph from the bottom, where
it says “he had looked in vain among the dying men…” [she reads
the passage].
Ms. France So he’s still looking for him. On page 87: “No rabbi, I haven’t seen
him. He then left as he had come, as a windswept shadow. He had
already passed through the door when I suddenly remembered his
son running by my side…. [she continued reading until the end of
the passage].
Kate Mmm mmm. Deep.
Ms. France So what do you think of the rabbi’s son? 114 Delaila Selfish.
Class [All talking at once. “Arrogant.” “Bad.” “Not right.”]
Roderick I don’t think so.
Ms. France Yeah, why not?
Roderick He just trying to survive. He was scared. I understand that.
Kate But it’s his father.
Stan That’s bad.
Mandie I wouldn’t never do my daddy like that.
Delaila He doesn’t even know his father came back looking for him.
Ms. France So, um, would you be able to leave your family?
Kate No.
Mallory NO!
Kate No way!
Roderick I would.
Ms. France What if your family told you to go on ahead?
Mandie I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t leave him.
Shelaina I’m not saying they couldn’t make some arrangements to help him.
He ain’t heavy, you know what I’m saying.
Ms. France [starts singing] He ain’t heavy. He’s my brother [laughs]. I would
imagine that when the rabbi’s son was sitting in his 10th grade
English class he would say that he would stay with his father. It’s 115 hard to tell what you would do when your survival is at stake,
when you’re in that situation.
Erica But he don’t know he may die and his father is the only thing he
got for real.
Ms. France Any other questions on chapter 6?
This passage showed a few mainstays of Ms. France’s instruction quite nicely. First, she used the study guide as a device to help students understand what they read. Second, she referenced the text to provide the answers (and Kate does this as well). Third, though not as commonly, she asked students a moral question. In this case: What do you think of the rabbi’s son? These question-and-answer times were teacher-led and used most of the class time. There was only one instance of group work (for 15 minutes) for the 6 weeks I was in Ms. France’s classroom, and only one instance of a Socratic seminar. Otherwise, the classes progressed as I have outlined above.
The Socratic seminar was a school-wide practice that was text-based and student led. Before the seminar, students were asked to come up with three questions that would help the class process the information they had been learning. During seminar, students brought their tables into a circle, and the teacher usually initiated the seminar by asking the first question. After this time, the teacher intervened as little as possible, but did help to maintain order (should it be necessary) and contributed questions when the 116 conversation began to lag. 8 Seminars were usually held only once or twice a quarter, and
one was conducted over the Holocaust texts students read or viewed.
Holocaust Unit
The beginning of the Holocaust unit in Ms. France’s class was rocky. Before she
was even able to begin, her students asked her a bunch of questions about why they had
to study about the Holocaust (and Jews) instead of their own minority group. She
answered them patiently, but there seemed to be an undercurrent in the room regarding
studying the Holocaust. Kimberly told me that everyone was upset that they were
spending so much time on the Holocaust. She said she knew more about Jews than she
did about African Americans. On the other hand, Jerome said he was happy to learn
about the Holocaust because all they ever did was learn about African Americans. He did
admit that many of the students were upset about the Holocaust unit and that they were
cracking jokes about Holocaust pictures. Another student told me: “You have to admit,
some of those pictures look funny with the positions they in.” After settling the students
down, Ms. France began the Holocaust unit by reading the poem written originally in
German by Martin Niemoller, with many variants in the order of “victims.” The poem
she read to the class was close to the original (Littell, 1997):
When the Nazis came for the communists,
I didn’t speak out because I was not a communist.
When they came for the socialists,
8 Mr. Giacomo, a member of the team, ran seminar the ended the Holocaust unit because Ms. France was absent on this day. 117 I did not speak out because I wasn’t a socialist.
When they came for the trade unionists,
I did not speak out because I was not a trade unionist.
When they came for the Jews
I did not speak out because I was not a Jew.
When they came for me,
there was no one left to speak out.
Interestingly, though Ms. France read the above poem to the students, almost without exception, they referred to the poem as “First they came for the Jews”—a popular variant.
After she read the poem, the class began discussing it. The following dialogue brings one point to fore: religious talk was prominent in the classroom even before they began reading Night (1982).
Mallory You want me to explain it?
Ms. France Please.
Mallory ‘Cause I’ll preach it. If you don’t speak up for another person, even
though they different than you, even though they take away all the other
people, you the only one left, and they’ll be coming for you next.
Ms. France [Nods affirmatively]
Roderick You got to speak up for people. You got to speak up for people because it
could be you. 118 Erica I just know I wouldn’t speak up for no Jews. I wouldn’t speak up for no
Jews because I’m Muslim [she said this very quietly, as if she didn’t
intend the whole class to hear it].
Myron You cruel.
Ms. France [To Erica] Say that again. I didn’t hear you.
Erica I don’t know.
Ms. France No. You said you wouldn’t stand up for the Jews.
Erica Yeah. No. Man. God, I don’t know.
Myron Don’t use God like that!
Class [Erupts in commotion. Some students are angry, and others are laughing.]
Erica, perhaps losing conviction in her own statement or not wanting to appear discriminatory to her classmates, then recast her statement: “If I was a Jew, I wouldn’t speak up for the Jews because then they’d kill me, too.”
This dialogue within the unit-opening demonstrated once again the contention for some students surrounding the unit and at the same time the religious references that were to be so prominent (“preach it” and “Don’t use God like that).
In addition to reading Night (Wiesel, 1982) and the Niemoller poem, the students watched Schindler’s List (1993), the Oprah interview with Elie Wiesel, and Swing Kids
(Manulis & Gordon, 1993). After the Oprah interview and Swing Kids, they wrote short journal entries responding to each. Students also went to the local Holocaust center to see an exhibit and hear a second generation survivor speak. 119 Besides the daily study guide questions, which were graded by their peers in class, the major grades were two pieces of writing: paragraphs comparing and contrasting the Nuremberg Laws and the Jim Crow Laws and a letter written to a public official calling attention to some aspect of Night (Wiesel, 1982). For the latter assignment, some students wrote to the local Holocaust museum to thank them for the visit and explain what they learned; others wrote to public officials to try to bring about a change in government policy.
In the next section, I move in closer to view the teachers’ narrative frames that influenced the way they think about the Holocaust.
The Teachers and Teaching the Holocaust Unit
The Holocaust literature unit at River Hill was taught at the same time as the
WWII unit in World History, so I explored narrative frames for both the English teacher and the social studies teacher. Ms. France tried to integrate literature that was cotemporaneous with the period under study in Mr. May’s history class. For instance, when Mr. May covered WWI, Ms. France and her class read All Quiet on the Western
Front (Remarque, 1929). As Mr. May’s classes studied WWII, Ms. France began her
Holocaust unit.
Ms. France
I first met Ms. France in August of 2004 when I supervised an intern who was placed in her class. When I told her what my research interests were, she invited me into her class when during her Holocaust literature unit slated for the spring. What intrigued 120 me about the unit she intended to teach was how she planned to couple the Holocaust with Civil Rights.
Ms. France courageously faced difficult issues with her students—issues of race, poverty, educational achievement, and social justice. She believed in her students and put in an extraordinary amount of time tutoring kids after school, meeting with team members to develop plans to help individual students, and meeting with parents. She was a National Board Certified teacher with 10 years of experience and served as the team leader for her small school at River Hill. Because of this, she told me, her students thought she was an “extra good” teacher.
Mr. May
Mr. May was a teacher with 12 years of experience, all at River Hill. I never observed Mr. May’s classes, but I did interview him to investigate how he was potentially influencing the way students were responding to the unit in Ms. France’s classes.
Students loved Mr. May, and Ms. France said at first she didn’t know why because he spent most of his time lecturing. He did play games with the students regarding the historical topics under study, and they loved those days. On one occasion, I was standing in the hall when a class emerged from Mr. May’s room. They were all smiling broadly. I said, “Great day in history, huh?” One of the students replied, “It’s always a great day in
Mr. May’s class!”
In the sections to come, I describe Ms. France’s and Mr. May’s goals for teaching the Holocaust and their ideas about why the Holocaust was important for their students to learn. 121 The Importance of the Holocaust: An Element of Narrative Framing
Ms. France. She told me in the unit-ending interview that she had two goals in teaching the Holocaust in her English class.
I knew that in their history class they’d be covering WWII, and um, I try to, it
doesn’t always work out, but I try and complement his history stuff with my
reading stuff. So that is probably the main reason. The second reason is that Night
is a short book, and you get a lot of bang for the buck out of that book. It is just
like hitting home those issues again, I think the class was kind of ripe for.
Teaching tolerance is an implicit part of the Holocaust, I think. My thought was
for the reading to connect with kids’ experiences and what they understand and
know, and they know a lot about Civil Rights. I wanted them to realize that the
things that have happened in their ethnic group have happened in other ethnic
groups. Hoping they will see themselves in the humanity of other people, you
know.
The choice of the Holocaust as the subject area was directed by what was being studied in
Mr. May’s World History class. Once the choice to teach a Holocaust-related text was made, she chose Night (Wiesel, 1982) because it was hard hitting, especially on the issues of tolerance and civil rights, which connected so poignantly with the students’ own lives as African Americans. She drew immediate parallels between the experiences of her students’ ethnic group and those of the Jews (i.e. the Holocaust). The Holocaust, then, was an example of the continuity of intolerance and disenfranchisement that people have suffered over time, and she hoped her students as African Americans would be able to see 122 themselves “in the humanity” of fellow sufferers of intolerance and hatred. The value of and purpose for teaching the Holocaust, then, lay not in the importance of the events themselves, but in the outcome of seeing themselves in the events of the Holocaust.
Mr. May. In his World History class, Mr. May had certain standards to meet regarding teaching WWII, including the rise of fascism, the major battles of WWII, and the Japanese internment camps in the U.S., but he also chose to cover the Holocaust even though it was not specifically mentioned in the 10th grade standards. In an interview with
me at the end of the school year in 2004, he told me that he didn’t lecture on the
Holocaust, as he did on other topics, but he covered it a little bit each day “whether it was
watching one of the Final Solution videos or whether is was looking at one of the slide
shows of Auschwitz.”9 His goals for teaching the Holocaust were similar to Ms. France’s
in that they related specifically to the experiences of his African American students.
Karen Um, why do you think it is important to teach the Holocaust?
Mr. May So it doesn’t happen again.
Karen A lot of students were saying that history repeats itself.
Mr. May Yeah, it does.
Karen Um, I was wondering, and some of your students thought it could not
happen again. So it can’t happen again and yet history repeats itself?
Mr. May A big part of it is not so much to make sure that it doesn’t happen again,
but also to teach tolerance and understanding. If you realize, and I think it
is very poignant for African American students, especially because they
9 The Final Solution (Kuehl, 1993) is a four-part video series that is difficult to find: 1) Seeds of Hatred, 2) Repression and Resettlement, 3) The Last Journey, and 4) Hell on Earth. 123 know so much about the horrors that they experienced during slavery, and
they tend to think that that only happened to them, or to African
Americans. In reality, that kind of stuff has happened to millions of
people.
Two threads from Mr. May’s rationale for teaching about the Holocaust are also present in Ms. France’s: 1) the Holocaust teaches tolerance, and 2) this topic is particularly poignant for African American students. Ms. France thought her students were “ripe for” seeing “themselves in the humanity of other people,” and Mr. May thought that his students needed to think about the suffering of other people because they tended “to think that [horrors] only happened to them.”
Ms. France’s Religious Frames
Ms. France spoke about her own spirituality and the role of religion in the classroom as she had experienced it over the 2003-2004 school year.10 She did not dwell
on her own religion except to say that she regularly went to church and that she was more
spiritual now than she used to be. Her increased spirituality, she said, caused her to read
Night differently than she had in the past. She no longer thought that Elie lost his faith in
Auschwitz, but that he was “tested, his faith was really tested by God. And this tragedy
inspired him to greater things.” As you will see in Chapter 6, it was nearly impossible for
anyone—teacher or student—to discuss Night without discussing their own religious
orientation. In this short statement from her are the seeds of two ideas: 1) the Holocaust
10 Mr. May did not discuss his religious frames of reference with me, except for his take on teaching the history of Christian antisemitism, which I include in the next subsection. 124 was a test from God, and 2) some good came out of it in the end (though I am quite certain she wouldn’t say it was worth whatever small good could be salvaged).
She had more to say about how religion operated in the day to day happenings of her classroom.
One thing I’ve learned this year is that religion is always there. It is always there.
It is just like race, in this city especially, is always there. I, I guess especially since
9/11. I know a kid revealed to the class this year that he was an atheist, and I
mean all their eyes just popped right open like, “How could you possibly not
believe in God?” You know. And, um, and you know, I’ve seen one of my
Muslim kids just trying find a way in this school.11 I mean it is always there.
Religion was always there, and according to Ms. France, it was just as prominent a
feature in the classroom as was race at River Hill. Because she had a few students who
were, in her word, “areligious,” and because she had a few Muslim students, she said she
made a real effort to “always try to say, ‘they believe,’ ‘Christian belief,’ or ‘what
Muslims believe.’ Or something like that, and you know, that’s conscious to just show
them that not everybody believes the same way.” Her class was overwhelmingly
Christian with most students reporting that they belonged to a Baptist church or an
African Methodist Episcopal church.
She also went on to tell me a strange story about a teacher’s aide at the school
who was Muslim and went around trying to proselytize students in school. The Southern
Baptist parents of one of Ms. France’s students almost sued the school district over this
11 Ms. France did not provide any other details surrounding this Muslim student. 125 issue. This aide also told the students that on 9/11 all the Jews called in sick to work at the World Trade Center because they knew that Jews were going to fly radio-controlled planes into the Twin Towers. She told the kids that there were really no hijackers, just a
Jewish plot to control the world. As a result, the teacher’s aide “separated from the team” and moved to another small school within River Hill.
The teaching team began to recognize the need to address religion as a category that affected education. The incidents with the teacher’s aide, student backlash at learning about the Holocaust, and a seminar the science teacher held about the historical role of the Church in determining school practices (like teaching evolution), led the team, and
Ms. France in particular, to reflect on the place of religion in public schools. She said,
A lot of teachers recognized that there needs to be cooperation between church
and state, but you know, the people in this school are all religious, so they, you
know. There needs to be more weight to the religious aspect of learning, but it is
scary, and it gets parents very upset. You know, to talk about religion.
Ms. France used the word “cooperation” instead of the word one would more readily expect—“separation.” And she was obviously suggesting that teachers should be cognizant of the “religious aspect of learning.” She told me earlier that her Christian,
Muslim, and atheist students all read Night differently, so perhaps this was what she meant by “religious aspects of learning.” So this topic that by Ms. France’s account was
“always there,” was also one that teachers were afraid to talk about because of the possibility of upsetting parents. Talking about race did not cause this same kind of concern at River Hill. 126 In the next section, I present data regarding Ms. France’s and Mr. May’s historical frames for teaching the history of antisemitism and the history of the Holocaust. Because their views are so similar, I handle them together.
Ms. France’s and Mr. May’s Historical Frames
Teaching the history of antisemitism. Neither Ms. France nor Mr. May taught about the history of antisemitism. In Mr. May’s class, he discussed the antisemitism of
Julius Streicher and Hitler, and showed the students slides of Nazi propaganda, but before that, as far as the students learned from the teachers, antisemitism didn’t exist. At the end of the Holocaust unit I interviewed each of the teachers and took the opportunity to ask them about this omission.
Karen Um, I noticed you didn’t talk about the history of Christian antisemitism
in class, and it seemed to come up, like, um, with people saying, “Jews
killed Christ.”
Ms. France I, um, this year particularly, um, I kind of tread lightly with the religious
things because while most of my students are Baptist in upbringing, I have
had like a lot of weird stuff going on, and talking about Christian
antisemitism would get people on all sides riled up.
I was a bit surprised to see my own unease in bringing up this topic with Ms. France
(notice my use of “um” and “like”). Ms. France also showed the same kind of discomfort with this topic. She reasserted her earlier claim that parents would probably get upset about this kind of teaching. “Treading lightly” on this religious topic set the stage for 127 letting antisemitic comments go unchallenged in the classroom. Mr. May described a similar reason for not covering the history of antisemitism:
We discussed it briefly in the 20th century, but that is more a, I think, from my
point of view, is more a religious thing, and I didn’t necessarily want to get into
all that. I did point out that a lot of people blame Jews for, ah, ah, for the killing of
Christ, and it just so happened The Passion of the Christ was out, and um, but I
did point out that technically the Jews did send him to his death, but the Romans
carried it out. Some Jews objected to that. So I kind of pointed out that it was a
baseless criticism of Jews.
Like Ms. France and me, Mr. May had many hedges and hesitations (“ah,” “um,” and
“kind of”), testaments to his nervousness and tentativeness (Fairclough, 1995). Like Ms.
France, he didn’t want to open a religious Pandora’s box, but interestingly, he did raise the Christ killer myth—not as a myth, theologically spurious, or the reason for millennia of Christian persecution of Jews—but as fact, as “technically true.” The Passion of the
Christ (Gibson, 2004) had just come out, and this perhaps brought a renewed immediacy to the question of whether or not Jews killed Christ. “Kind of” pointing out that deicide was a “baseless criticism of Jews” after having already pointed out that technically Jews did send him to his death had the effect of putting this antisemitic slur in the mouths of
Mr. May’s students, but I get ahead of myself (I describe this in Chapter 6). The two reasons that Mr. May thought the deicide charge was baseless were: 1) Romans carried out the punishment, and 2) many Jews objected to the punishment. 128 In the next section, I will explore the historical trajectory of the unit, a frame that shaped all of Ms. France’s activities and many of her questions to students. Except for what I’ve already shared with you about Mr. May, I have very little to add, so once again,
I combine data for both teachers in the next section.
Parallel narratives. Both teachers agreed that the history of the Holocaust was particularly poignant for African American students, as already discussed. The line of connection between the two histories was the victimization that each suffered at the hands of a more powerful majority. Africans suffered for over 200 years at the hands of
American slave owners; African Americans suffered for another 100 years under oppressive state laws; and they were still suffering educational and economic achievement gaps compared to Whites (D'Amico, 2001; Orfield, 2001) as of this writing.
Jews, on the other hand, between the years of 1933-1945 suffered from laws taking away their rights, and then ghettoization, deportation, concentration, and extermination at the hands of Nazis.
Ms. France thought that the thread that tied slavery/Civil Rights (which were often conflated by both Ms. France and students) and the Holocaust together was the dehumanization of people, and the willingness of the masses to let unjust laws go unchallenged.
My students understand how the laws at the time dehumanized African
Americans in America, and so I wanted to make that leap to the laws, um,
dehumanizing Jews, and I thought the string that attached things was that White
people in America and non-Jews in Germany let it happen—let these atrocities go 129 on—and gave corrupt leaders this power to strip people away from their human
rights. So I guess that’s kind of the thing I always try to do with my students
whether we are talking about. Whatever race or ethnic group we are talking about,
I try to make this connection that the common thing is not race or religion or
anything else; it’s that government was taking power away and other people were
letting them.
Ms. France moved from the particular laws that dehumanized African Americans (slavery laws and Jim Crow Laws) to the particular laws that dehumanized Jews (Nuremberg
Laws) via “the string that attached” them together—unjust government policies toward minorities coupled with the inaction of the masses. Ms. France created parallel narratives for her students. Slavery/Civil Rights ran right alongside the Holocaust. She did this in a big way by having students compare the Nuremberg Laws and Jim Crow Laws and then write a paragraph comparing them, a paragraph contrasting them, and a paragraph regarding what these laws said about the country that originated them. She also did this in small ways. For instance, when a student made a comment about how Elie’s tattoo reduced him to a mere number, she said, “The Auschwitz tattoo reminds me of stories
Harriet Tubman had, you know, that scar on her head. And the stripes on the backs of slaves. They were symbols of their dehumanization.”
It was not surprising then, when in the seminar, a student in each of Ms. France’s four classes asked classmates to compare atrocities: What’s worse, slavery or the
Holocaust? In a lengthy stretch of discourse from the 4th bell seminar, the students 130 explored this very question. The ellipses below indicate places where I had to take out turns, or a series of turns, because they were spoken by non-participants.
Luke Compare the Holocaust to slavery. Which one is worse?
Logan Can’t compare pain. They both bad. I dare not compare. Bad times for
both groups because they were different.
Briana I agree that you can’t compare. Holocaust is worse. Even though they not
Black people. Hitler killed so many for no reason.
Franklin I feel that they were both equally bad. I mean, if you just look at it, which
would you rather be in. Slavery or the Holocaust?
[….]
Farris I’d rather be in slavery because the Holocaust, I mean, you were just going
to die. There was no way out of it.
Luke It doesn’t matter. It’s the same thing. Prolong your life, beat you every
day, then you die.
Farris In slavery you have a better chance of surviving.
Jerome But in slavery, you can work to death.
Franklin They work to death in the work camp.
[….]
Vicco But the Holocaust though. It was shorter though because you would go in
there and within three weeks you’d be dead. If you were a slave, you have
to work all day your whole life. You got beat every day.
Nick Your kids might live. 131 Katrina I’d have died either way because I am not about to pick no cotton.
Class [Laughs]
Luke You’d be saying, “Yes, Masser.”
Katrina No, I am telling you. Either way, I’d be dead in one day.
Farris At least you have a chance to live.
Katrina But I am not going to live because I am not going to do what anyone tell
me.
Logan Are you telling me you’d rather be in the Holocaust than pick cotton?
Katrina I’d have a better chance in slavery. But I don’t want to. I will die instantly.
Christina Both bad. In slavery you suffer longer than Holocaust. For me, slavery
because I don’t want to die that bad.
[….]
Franklin I think the Holocaust is worse because in the Holocaust all they could
think of is food. Maybe you get tortured and suffer [in slavery], but at least
we can have kids. We can live on. When you die, that’s it. [Nazis] wanted
to get rid of the whole species. Not species, but you know.
Jerome Um, I think the Holocaust is worser, but like. When Elie was there he saw
like burning kids and screaming out loud because they were being burned
in crematories. I think I would rather be in bondage than hear those
burning children screaming.
Luke You can hear people getting whipped.
Jerome But burned. Burned! Could you imagine burned alive? 132 Luke Whipped and salt thrown on you.
Nick Do what you told and you won’t be whipped. That’s a difference. They
needed slaves.
Luke They would whip you until your back was red, and you were bleeding and
that would make you hurt more.
Mr. Giacomo Time. Time. Time. Just let me remind you. No one will be persuaded.
Katrina knows exactly what she would do. Ten million Africans were
killed over 125 years. We shouldn’t look at just numbers. It certainly is
considered a holocaust.
Luke Slavery lasted a whole lot longer than the Holocaust
Jerome The Holocaust is kind of like revenge, and slavery is kind of like period of
time. In that sense you can’t even compare them. The Holocaust was so
much more deadly than slavery was. The Holocaust is death.
Ms. France never encouraged a comparison of pain between slavery and the Holocaust, only a comparison of the laws which limited the rights of Blacks and laws that limited the rights of Jews. She was absent on the seminar day, so I don’t know how she would have handled the above discussion differently than Mr. Giacomo did. Luke’s original question asked for a comparison of the magnitude of the events. Four of the ten participants seemed to respond to Luke’s question. Right from the start, Logan argued that you “dare not compare,” and he didn’t. Katrina refused to compare the two by saying that no matter where she was, she would be dead on the first day because she would not obey anybody.
Briana said that “you can’t compare” but then went to say the events of the Holocaust 133 were worse because they were not based in rational thought (“Hitler killed so many for no reason”). An implication is that while slavery was reprehensible, at least common greed could explain it. Finally, Jerome, in the last turn of this discussion, asserted that the tenor of the Holocaust was death, and because of this deadliness, comparison was not possible. Franklin changed the question to ask which one would be easier to endure.
There were basically four positions on Franklin’s question. 1) I‘d rather be in slavery because: at least I’d get to live (Nick, Christina); I could have children (Nick); and, people needed slaves, so if I obeyed, I wouldn’t be whipped (Nick). 2) I’d rather be in the
Holocaust because I’d be dead in three weeks, so I wouldn’t have to suffer as long as I would in slavery (Vicco). 3) I’d rather not be in slavery because I’d be whipped (Luke), beaten (Luke, Franklin), have salt thrown on my wounds (Luke), worked to death (Vicco,
Jerome), and suffer longer than I would in the Holocaust (Vicco). 4) I’d rather not be in the Holocaust because: I would only think about food (Franklin); I’d have no way out of dying (Farris); I’d see burning children (Jerome); and my people would be subjected to genocide (Franklin).
In the end, then, 6 or the 10 participants would rather be a slave than a Holocaust victim. Luke and Vicco never expressly stated their preferences, but made counterarguments when the others argued that the Holocaust was worse, and Logan and
Katrina refused to compare the two atrocities. What began as an attempt to use something the students knew (Civil Rights) in order to make the Holocaust accessible for them, turned out in the end to precipitate comparisons of pain: what’s worse being whipped 134 with salt thrown on you or hearing the screaming of children being burned alive? This macabre exchange was certainly in keeping with the theme of parallel narratives.
Another potential drawback of a parallel narrative frame was suggested by Mr.
May, who said that one effect of what he called the students’ “close affinity to the
Holocaust”—which means, I think, that his students understood the suffering the Jews went through—was that students questioned or outright blamed the Jews for not fighting back because “our kids are taught from a very young age to stand up to oppression, to fight back, and they would say that it was the Jews’ own fault that they didn’t stand up.”
He was right. Twenty-one of the 35 participants either asked why the Jews didn’t resist
(“Why’d they go like sheep to the slaughter?”) or commented upon it (“They let themselves be targets. They were just accepting that they would die. They really didn’t do anything.”). Only one student brought up the parallel narrative of hundreds of slaves not revolting against their master. No one mentioned specific slave revolts or specific instances of Jewish resistance.
In the first section of this chapter, I described my entrée into River Hill Academy, noting that due to a “researcher effect,” the data I was able to collect was probably different than it would have been had I not been considered an outsider. I then painted the neighborhood of River Hill and River Hill Academy with a broad stroke, looking at demographic statistics of the school district. Next, I moved in closer to view the classroom learning activities and the scope of the Holocaust unit.
I introduced the teachers, Ms. France and Mr. May, and examined their reasons for teaching the Holocaust literature unit. Both teachers believed that teaching tolerance 135 was an integral part of teaching the Holocaust and that the subject would be particularly poignant for their African American students. Finally, I explored the teachers’ narrative frames that affected the way they viewed and taught about the Holocaust. Ms. France’s religious frames included little about her own beliefs and much about the growing need she saw to address religious aspects of learning, though this was something she was afraid of doing because of potential parent objections. Next, I examined Ms. France’s and
Mr. May’s decisions not to teach the history of antisemitism, which had the affect of allowing the Christ killer myth to stand unchallenged in their classrooms (more of this in
Chapter 6) and their construction of parallel narratives, which had the effect of pushing students in the direction of comparing pain.
The context of River Hill also included student narrative frames relating to race and the positioning of present and absent Others that serve as points of comparison between Adams and River Hill and demonstrate the ability of students to lay down one frame in favor of another. I discuss these student narrative frames in the following section.
The Faces of Tolerance and Intolerance at River Hill
Race
On the first day Ms. France had this group of kids as freshmen, she told them,
“We are going to talk about race.” And they did. They talked about race, and class, a lot.
In a 1st bell class discussion of the similarities and differences between the Nuremberg
Laws and the Jim Crow Laws, Hallie appeared to come to a sudden realization, “It is hard
not to be racist if you White. I’d be racist, too if I lived up in Stone Ridge” (the 136 community just west of Adams, with similar demographics to Adams). Terrella added economic and educational components of difference between River Hill and Stone Ridge:
I think that kind of, how our school don’t have as much as like Stone Ridge
schools and stuff like that. And don’t have the money we need to get that type of
stuff, so we over here complaining about it, but in Stone Ridge, if you go up there,
it isn’t really an issue for them. They got it, so they don’t really look at it. I think
it’s because they blind to the fact of what everyone else needs. They just thinking
about themselves from they own perspective.
Both Terrella and Hallie demonstrated here the ability to put themselves in the shoes of middle class, White, Stone Ridge residents, to imagine how the people of Stone Ridge could be uncaring, or unknowledgeable, about the inferior educational facilities at River
Hill. This brief example provides a nice foil for Annabelle’s thinking, mentioned in the last chapter. Remember, she didn’t believe that race and social class had anything to do with the experiences people had; here, Terrella and Hallie are saying that race and social class impact the institution of public education—a clear difference.
In addition to educational inequities, there was a general consensus that the “city” was very racist, especially the police. In an interview with Logan near the beginning of the Holocaust unit, he brought up the topic of racism in the city because it related to the stereotyping of Jews in Night.
Logan [This town] is one of the most racist places on earth. It’s like Sighet.
Karen The police? 137 Logan If it's not the police, then it's somebody stereotyping. If it isn't somebody
stereotyping, then it is a dirty look. If it isn't a dirty look, then it's a foul
gesture.
Karen And these are all things you have personally experienced?
Logan These are things I personally experience every day. I was racially profiled
in front of my own house last year.
He went on to tell the story of a White police officer who stopped him as he was walking home from the bus stop after school. The police officer started to harass him and blame him for dumping oil in a neighbor’s yard, and the confrontation ended only after Logan let the police officer search his book bag. Similarly, in a letter that Luke wrote to the city police in fulfillment of the assignment to write a letter to a public official to address an issue of civil rights, Luke had this to say about racism in the city:
Many people think that there are equal rights for everyone in America, but
everyone doesn't. African Americans are losing some of their basic constitutional
rights in this city. This is exactly how the Holocaust started. Jews started losing
some of their rights and eventually lost all of them. African Americans are being
racially profiled by police. Police are pulling over African Americans for no good
reason....If things like this keep up then we will have another Holocaust on our
hands.
The police are pulling African Americans out of their cars for no good
reason. My friend has been pulled over by the police more than 12 times for
D.W.B (driving while black). Also, the police are searching African Americans in 138 the middle of the street for no good reason. If you look an officer in the eye they
search you, if you walk away from them then they search you. If things like this
continue then African Americans will soon be like the Jews in Night. Most black
people are already ostracized and live in ghettos because that is where the
government puts most of the homes that they can afford at. Next thing they will
do is put black people in jail for no good reason if racial profiling is not stopped.
The face of intolerance, stereotyping, and racial profiling to Logan and Luke was White and the body wore a police uniform. The reason for this unfair treatment, according to the young men, was skin color. Arms of the state searched them, stopped them, and ostracized them by placing them in ghettos, not forcefully, but through economic pressures (they are the “only homes that they can afford”). Luke sees a direct comparison between Nazi treatment of Jews and Police/government treatment of African Americans.
This is another way that Ms. France’s parallel narratives showed up in the classroom.
Discrimination didn’t stop with the police; students also believed that there were unfair work practices aimed at discriminating against African Americans. During a 3rd bell conversation about the Nuremberg Laws and Jim Crow Laws, the class talked about gay marriage and discrimination against people of Arab descent, and then the conversation turned to unfair work practices against African Americans in the city, the latter of which I include below.
Kimberly Like, um, at Burger King our brothers are told like, they don’t get equal
rights. They have to work like all day in the morning until the afternoon
and they get like one 15 minute break after they eat lunch. They, he told 139 me about it, they don’t complain, but it still not right because they are
taking advantage of them.
Daniel McDonalds, they don’t care. You got to work the whole shift, 8 hours. No
break.
Belinda So they do more, but they don’t get paid more?
Kimberly That’s right.
Ms. France I’d like to see you do a little research to be sure you can back up what you
are saying.
Kimberly and Daniel both talked about the low paying fast food jobs that many of their family members and friends had. They told a story of unfair treatment, lost breaks, more work, and employees that don’t complain. This story didn’t seem to resonate with Ms.
France because she asked them to check their facts. She didn’t do this with the statements
Hallie, Terrella, and Luke made. Since she is willing to question what they say about race, I assume that the fact she didn’t question the others means that she agreed with them or didn’t have difficulty believing them. In an interview with me, Kimberly mentioned another example of discrimination, this time on a national level and on primetime TV. She explained to me that there was a conspiracy to keep Black people from voting for their favorite singers on American Idol (Warwick, Lythgoe, Fuller, Frot-
Coutaz, Jones, & Fuller, 2004). Admittedly incredulous, I asked her how this could be.
She told me that somehow the government was “blocking the lines” to Black people’s houses. This seemed fantastic to me, but apparently there was some talk of such a 140 conspiracy in blogger space (see Yin, 2004) and in the popular media. She was the only student who mentioned this conspiracy to me.
For many at River Hill, unfair policing constituted a major element of discrimination in the city. Students recognized inequities in the educational system, as well, mentioning continuing school segregation despite a law aimed at rectifying it and funding imbalances between traditionally White and Black schools. Students also deemed some hourly wage employers as discriminatory, and charged them with demanding more work for the same pay from African American employees. One student even mentioned a fantastic tale of government malfeasance. Now, I move in for a closer view of intolerance/stereotyping among students at River Hill.
Framing the Other at River Hill
Present others. Most of the boys at River Hill wore a self-imposed uniform: an extra, extra large white Hanes undershirt and dark blue jeans. Apparently, the big shirt was an effort to conceal drooping drawers, with the waist of the pants cinched around the upper thighs. The girls’ attire was more varied; some came to school in comfy jeans and sneakers while others wore dresses and heels. No matter how they were dressed, or any other surface characteristics that distinguished the students, they seemed to get along with one another very well. After all, when I began observing their classes, they had been together for nearly two whole academic years. It wasn’t at all apparent to me what the different factions were at River Hill. As I said, the boys went so far as to wear self- imposed uniforms, the effect of which was to appear to be one big group. All of Ms.
France’s classes were inclusive, and students went out of their way to positively interact 141 with students with disabilities.12 Unlike at Adams, there was very little open ridicule of
present Others. In an interview with Jerome near the end of the Holocaust literature unit,
I told him that I thought everyone got along well, and that I didn’t see intolerance,
stereotyping, or labeling at River Hill. He laughed and said,
Oh, you don’t hear everything, Karen. There are groups like that, especially in
high school. There are a lot of different classes, like you got your popular kids.
You got your people who are close by that, you know, nerds or whatever you
want to say. You got your non-crew kids and people that they just label because
they don’t like them or something. So I think it goes around the whole world.
This wasn’t the first time a student told me I didn’t “hear everything” that was going on.
Two or three other students also told me in private about things that students didn’t want
me, or their teachers, to hear. Jerome’s use of the word “they” to describe those who label
implied that he was not one of those people. Indeed, when I asked him about it, he said he
never stereotyped people. He said he got along with all types of people and all types of
people got along with him.
For at least one of Ms. France’s students, however, school labeling experiences
were damaging. In the unit ending seminar, students were supposed to come to class
prepared to ask three Holocaust-related questions. For the seminar, students pulled their
desks into a circle and moderated the discussions themselves. In 1st bell, after a long
12 Including one girl who was deaf and two boys who were developmentally disabled. Unfortunately, none of the students with disabilities agreed to participate in the study, so I can not reproduce the encounters that show the high degree of care and understanding that students without disabilities had for students with disabilities. 142 group discussion of what motivated Hitler to hate Jews, Kate asked the following
Holocaust-related question that sparked a short discussion.
Kate Hitler is insane. He is a demon. But let me ask another question: Do you
accept people when they different?
Class [Everyone talked at once. “No one should discriminate.” “You got to
accept.”]
Mr. Giacomo Wait, wait. One at a time.
Shelaina I know I have discriminated, keeping it real, but everybody is special.
Mallory If I was kind of slow and cripple-like, would you still be my friend?
Class Yes.
Kate When we was younger, I know a lot of kids, we would look at them
differently.
Mandie People treated me wrong because of who I was.
Delaila She was different [about Mandie]. She was a nerd and talked all White.
She was more fat than me [laughs].
Class [Laughs]
Mandie I wouldn’t do it because I know what its like [she was on the verge of
tears; many students seemed touched]. People didn’t accept me. They used
to put me with the White girls. I used to talk proper and no one liked me.
Delaila Well, people treated me like I’m fat. And still do. I is fat though [laughs].
Mandie I have been the subject of mistreatment since kindergarten and that is a
shame. 143 Kate We love you, Mandie.
Class “Yeah.” “We do.”
Delaila She was fat, though.
Mr. Giacomo Some can relate to being picked on.
Mandie Hitler hated Jews because he was mistreated. I would target models.
Kate Don’t do it, Mandie!
This discussion of peer acceptance was situated on both ends by comments about Hitler.
The question emerged directly after Kate declared that Hitler was “insane” and a
“demon,” and the discussion ended when Mandie compared Hitler’s hatred toward Jews to her own desire to kill models because she was made fun of for being fat. Hitler’s genocidal policies, then, functioned as subtext for this discussion at least for some people.
For Mallory, while he was certainly referring generally to Hitler’s stance against the mentally and physically disabled, the more immediate context was likely a movie they watched in class a few days earlier, Swing Kids (Manulis & Gordon, 1993), in which a character with a clubbed foot committed suicide after being rejected by his friends and beaten by the Hitler Youth. For Delaila, there was no weighty subtext that kept her from laughing her way through the whole exchange. She instantiated Mandie’s prior victimization by once again subjecting her to public embarrassment for talking “all
White” and being a fat nerd. So the “Holocaust-related” topic of “accepting people when they different” led to Mandie’s re-victimization, probably at the hands of one of the same people, and no one in the room stood up to Delaila to defend Mandie, not even Mandie 144 herself nor the teacher. Kate did try to console Mandie by telling her she loved her and urging her not to murder models.
This was the first time I heard anyone make fun of anyone else at River Hill in an open manner, though Jerome let me know that it did indeed happen. On this one seminar day, however, besides the example above, I heard three more instances of peer ridicule directed toward present individuals or groups—“lames,” “people so ugly,” and “fatsos”
(other than Delaila and Mandie). It occurred to me that a reason why there would be a surfeit of public Othering on this day when I had not seen it at all throughout the prior six weeks was that this was one of the only forums in which they were invited to talk outside of fairly strict teacher control.
“Absent” Others. Just like at Adams, I heard students use the word “gay” to mean
“stupid.” Additionally, within a 2nd bell seminar discussion that began by trumpeting the
great freedoms we enjoy as Americans, Sammy spoke at length about how being gay was
wrong.
Sammy We’d never let things get so far in America as they did in Germany.
Stan Checks and balances.
Sammy We’d impeach some dude try to take away our freedom like that.
Mr. Giacomo So if I came out after a while and said that gays and lesbians couldn’t
marry/
Sammy Well, that’s different, you know. That’s just wrong. I ain’t homophobic or
nothing, but I mean, I don’t think that right personally. What you going to
marry a dude for and you a dude? That don’t make no sense to me. 145 Class [Laughs]
Melannie How can you say who likes who?
Sammy Dudes don’t like dudes. Dudes like girls. It’s in the Bible, that’s why!
Julia That’s cold, but that’s right.
Sammy It’s different if it’s two girls. That’s alright.
Class [Laughs]
Sammy We don’t have no gays here, you know what I’m saying, but I don’t want
to be out on the street and see two dudes kissing on each other in public.
That’s against the Bible.
It is clear from his words that he did not think that gays were present Others, but were people who could be encountered “out on the street.” In the beginning of this stretch of discourse he tapped his background knowledge of the American narrative of freedom
(Barton & Levstik, 2004; Foner, 1998) to make his case about why a holocaust would never happen in the U.S., but when Mr. Giacomo muddied the waters by asking about gay rights, Sammy left the narrative of freedom and shifted to a biblical (Christian) narrative of sin that put limits on freedoms—the relevant frame shifted with the subject matter. The class laughed through much of what Sammy said, and he was clearly performing for the group. Only one person, Melannie, challenged Sammy’s stance. It wasn’t until seven minutes later when Melannie asked him what he would think if a large group of Whites got together to reinstate segregation that Sammy began to consider what his condemnation of gays might mean more generally to the narrative of freedom. 146 I see what you are trying to say, like like. It’s true if you think about it. I know
I’m not the only person who don’t like gay people; there is a big group against it.
But like you say, everybody wants their freedom. It’s not too many people that
don’t want it. There ain’t never going to be anything like that tooken away from
us, but who’s to say there ain’t no whole big group of White people who don’t
like Black people, and they can bring back segregation.
He realized that his condemnation of gays was similar to Whites’ condemnation of
Blacks, which allowed him to understand that “everybody wants their freedom.”
Sammy’s frame of reference shifted back to the narrative of freedom as he thought about gay rights.
Summary and Comparisons between Sites
Like Chapter 4, the purpose of this chapter was three-fold. First, it provided context for understanding the findings in Chapters 6, 7, and 8. The second purpose was to provide a basis for comparison between River Hill and Adams: the demographic information and the teachers’ narrative frames that influence teaching the Holocaust. The third purpose of the chapter was to look at the way narrative frames that relate to tolerance or injustice were expressed in the classroom, because tolerance was a goal of the teachers. Summarized and compared with Adams, below, are the data that fall into the categories of 1) demographics and teachers’ reasons for teaching the Holocaust, and 2) narrative frames that relate to tolerance or injustice.
The differences between Adams and River Hill were stark, in every sense of the word—blunt, utter, and, when it came to economic condition, grim. The racial makeup of 147 each school demonstrated the White flight from the city to the outer suburbs or to private schools. African Americans comprised 98% of the population at River Hill, and Whites comprised 98% of the population at Adams. By the principal’s estimation, 75% of River
Hill students qualified for free or reduced lunch, whereas at Adams only 3% of the students did.
At River Hill, as at Adams, the teachers believed that the Holocaust was useful for teaching lessons of tolerance. Interestingly, at River Hill students contested the importance of learning about Jews when they could be learning about their own minority group. Both Ms. France and Mr. May also believed that the Holocaust would be particularly poignant for their students because they were African American. This belief guided Ms. France’s plan to set the course as parallel narratives between Civil
Right/Slavery (often conflated by Ms. France and her students) and the Holocaust. One unintended outcome of this frame was that students, according to Mr. May, thought that the Jews were responsible for their fate because they didn’t resist (I deal with this issue more thoroughly in Chapter 8). Standing up to oppression was such a part of students’ views of the world that they couldn’t understand when Jews seemed to passively accept their horrible fate.
Besides this parallel narrative, both Ms. France and Mr. May, like Mrs. Parker at
Adams, did not teach the history of Christian antisemitism. At Adams, the reason for this was that Mrs. Parker wasn’t aware of this history. At River Hill, however, the teachers purposely did not mention it because they didn’t want to get into the thorny issue of religion, that, according to Ms. France, had already proven itself a problem with parents, 148 teachers, and students. On a personal spiritual level, Ms. France said that she was more spiritual than at the time she first read Night and now she saw it as a test of faith and believed that the experience would be used for something good in this life.
Students at River Hill did not appear to pick on or stereotype classmates as much as those at Adams did, but one River Hill student assured me that labeling did take place.
This was evident in the last seminar of the quarter and the year, with prominent teasing and gay bashing. The open format of the seminar made these kinds of interactions more pronounced than during the regular class activities. Sammy, the student at River Hill who spoke at length against gay marriage, came to see the issue in a different light when he considered it from a narrative of freedom instead of a Christian narrative of sin and redemption.
River Hill students saw race as a fulcrum for discrimination: unfair surveillance of
African Americans as they walked home from school, drove on the streets, or dared to look at police in the eye; they also mentioned unfair work conditions and pay and unequal school funding. Students at Adams did not believe that racism even existed!
Whereas students at River Hill has experiences with systematic oppression, students at
Adams believed in the narrative of individual motivation and success.
The ideas about classroom instruction were quite different between schools.
Whereas Adams was based upon team work and large amounts of independent reading,
River Hill was based upon small reading assignments accompanied by study guide questions that essentially served as quizzes (though Ms. France also gave quizzes). 149 Teachers at both schools believed that the Holocaust provided usable lessons for their students, lessons that could be taught through Holocaust literature. One of the literary pieces teachers at both sites used was Night, and Chapter 6 explores how students responded through religious narratives of redemption to Wiesel’s memoir. Adams in
2003 and 2004 read Goodrich and Hackett’s play The Diary of Anne Frank (1994), and
Chapter 7 describes and analyzes how students responded through a narratives of hope to that and other versions of the diary. The final chapter of findings, Chapter 8, compares students’ enfigurings of Hitler, the questions students asked, and the lessons they learned. 150
Chapter 6
God on the Gallows: Students’ Religious Responses to Night
“God's in his Heaven—/All's right with the world!”
~Browning, Pippa Passes (1956, lines 227-228)
“And yet God has not said a word!”
~Browning, Porphyria’s Lover (1956, line 60)
Hawthorne No. [Elie] was like gaining his religion in Sighet with Moshe. [Moshe]
was teaching him to be wiser, to be with God and stuff. He was really
faithful. Then when he started going to concentration camps, he was like,
“Where is God now?” He’s like, “If God were real and protecting us, we
wouldn’t have to come here.” So basically, he was like, “Screw that!”
Especially that point where he sees God on the gallows. When they hung
the boy.
Elmer Oh yeah. He was like, “God is here! We will be saved!” 151 Hawthorne It means that God is dead, stupid idiot.
Stella It does?
Hawthorne Mrs. Parker, I can’t work with these people!
I begin this chapter with these remarks from a small group discussion of Night
(Wiesel, 1982) in Mrs. Parker’s class in 2004. I could have begun with scores of other discussions about the hanging of the young boy (pp. 58-62); in fact, I could have begun with 51 separate student discussions of this one scene in Night or with over 100 written references to the scene in student writing from Adams 2003, River Hill 2004, and Adams
2004. I chose this one discussion because in comparatively few number of lines, it demonstrated the two main, and opposing, student interpretations of the hanging of the
“sad-eyed angel.”
This one scene took the pulse of students’ religious responses to Night in a way that no other scene did, and those responses first alerted me to the significance of
Christian religious narrative framing in determining how students interpreted Night and its overarching referents, the events of the Holocaust. Students interpreted the Holocaust in terms of the overarching story of sin and redemption. Within this story are many replicas of the same sin-redemption drama, and students emplotted the Holocaust as one of these dramas.
This scene in Night brought about the most discussion. The nameless boy was a
“sad-eyed angel” whom Elie referred to as a pipel, a young boy with fine features. He was accused of sabotaging an electric power station at Buna. He and three others were tortured for weeks, but none of them gave up any names. The Oberkapo, whom the young 152 boy served, was eventually sent to Auschwitz and never heard from again. The young boy and two other men were sentenced to hang. After they were hanged, all of the prisoners were forced to file past the dying boy as he dangled nearly lifeless from the gallows. Someone in line behind Elie said, “‘Where is God now?’ Elie said to himself,
‘Where is He? Here He is—He is hanging here on this gallows…’ That night the soup tasted of corpses” (Weisel, 1982, p. 62; ellipsis in the original).
The opening discussion between Hawthorne, Elmer, and Stella (all participant- selected names) points to two fundamentally distinct ways of viewing the scene, though on paper they can look identical: in both versions of interpretation, the boy represents
God. In the case of Hawthorne and other members of this interpretative community the death of the young boy spelled out the death of God, the concept of God, or at least the death of the belief in a benevolent God. In the opposing interpretative community (e.g.
Elmer and many of the other students at all three sites) the boy was once again symbolic of God, but the death of God in this scenario was a temporary and planned sacrifice for human sin that brought about salvation.
The remainder of this chapter is divided into 6 sections. The first section, Non- religious Responders Speak of God, marks the difference between students who merely mention God and those who respond “religiously.” Non-religious responders do not use their own religious frame through which to read Elie’s thoughts and behavior; instead, they explain what Elie is thinking and doing based upon the words in the book. The other sections are all ways that students responded religiously, through their own religious frames that they bring to the text. 153 Non-religious Responders Speak of God
Simply mentioning God did not qualify as a religious response. In fact, it would be difficult to respond to Night without mentioning God (Seidman, 1996). Those who qualified for “religious response” demonstrated an active faith in God. Going back to the chapter opening discussion between Hawthorne, Elmer, and Stella, Hawthorne stated a religious worldview that God was dead (more aptly, an areligious worldview).
Hawthorne, as an atheist, had no struggle with believing that Elie’s idea of God died with the young boy because Hawthorne wasn’t faced with a contradictory personal belief about God’s standing in the world. Fish, from Adams 2003, also an atheist, held a similar view. During the small group discussion, Fish broke away from his group and answered separately because the group couldn’t agree on an answer.
Elie lost his faith in God. [Elie] thinks, “How could God keep six crematories
working night and day? It must be a lie [that God exists].” But Elie doesn’t lose
his morality. He still acts humanely toward others, even when others behave
savagely.
Fish’s worldview was absent of God but possessed a moral order that he credited Elie with having. When they discussed the question about Elie’s faith in class, Fish was very loud in asserting the death of God. Other students seemed flustered. After the class, Mrs.
Parker came up to me and said:
Fish doesn’t believe in God, so I think that’s why Fish believes it killed off his
faith. Whereas another student who has faith thinks, “No one can lose their faith
in God, so you know.” 154 Later in the quarter during an interview with me, Fish said that he didn’t think that Elie totally lost his faith in God’s existence because Elie continued to question God throughout the rest of the narrative. “If you are questioning God, then you think you are talking to someone, you know?” He went on to add that Elie’s questioning might even be an indication of strong belief, and then Fish referred to the section in Night in which
Moshe the Beadle says, “Man raises himself toward God by the questions he asks Him”
(p. 2). Fish said he was so vehement that day in class because his classmates “just weren’t thinking.” Both Hawthorne and Fish were impatient with religious responses.
Atheists were not the only ones who thought that Elie’s faith died or was severely impaired by his experiences. Luke (River Hill) wrote in his study guide, “His faith in God is what is on the gallows. His faith is dying because of what Hitler is doing to them. He doesn’t believe in God anymore.” Many others, self-professed Christians like Luke, also were able to separate their own religious beliefs from what was happening to Elie. The rest of this chapter does not deal with those responses; instead, it explores the responses like those of 78 of the 126 participants who, at some point as they read Night, used their own religious narratives to interpret it (see Appendix 6-A for codes).
World-Building
“World-building” describes how students saw the Holocaust as a microcosm of the whole-world struggle of good versus evil. The Judeo-Christian version of this struggle is that mankind fell from grace through the coaxing of Satan and that the
Messiah came/will come to redeem all of mankind from their sins. This narrative of redemption is a linear one, progressing from a state of fallen-ness to a state of salvation; 155 yet, within this overarching narrative, many “smaller” cycles of sin and redemption are implicated, the Holocaust being one event that conjures up this kind of theological thinking (Soulen, 1996).
One hundred fifteen of the126 participants self-reported a Christian religious orientation, 5 were agnostic/atheistic, 1 Muslim, 1 Jewish, and the other 4 didn’t reveal their religious preference. Only Christians responded in ways that set up the Holocaust as a spiritual battle of good versus evil. The world as a struggle of good versus evil is not solely a Christian phenomenon, but it expressed itself as one in the data. Without this underlying view of the world, implicit as it was for most students, their other religious comments wouldn’t cohere. For example, Franklin, a student at River Hill, commented about the young boy’s hanging: “Elie believed that God was right with the kid dangling.
God was trying to ease his pain and all the pain let in from sin.” Franklin expressed his belief that God comforts pain caused by sin, so while he didn’t say the Holocaust was a microcosm of the larger struggle of good versus evil, his comment presupposed a good and evil dichotomy, a Satan and a God who were active in history.
Active Satan
Students who believed in an active Satan thought that evil could reside within the individual, either by being invited in or by possessing the body. People only spoke of an active Satan in relation to Hitler. Lenore was a bubbly, blond haired girl in Mrs. Parker’s class in 2003. She had a bright smile and was always deeply involved with class discussions. Nothing she said in class alerted me to the way her Pentecostal faith shaped 156 the way she saw the world.13 When I read her unit-ending research paper, I saw this: “It
has been suggested that Satan killed all those thousands of Jews through Hitler. Evil can’t
penetrate things that are not evil, so I think Hitler had something to do with it.” Lenore
believed that Satan “penetrated” the body of Hitler because Hitler already had a
propensity for evil.
Karen I read your report and it is very comprehensive.
Lenore Thank you.
Karen I wanted to ask you a couple of questions. I wanted to ask you about
this—the last paragraph.
Lenore What do you want to know?
Karen I just want you to explain it to me.
Lenore Okay. Well, a lot of people really can’t believe that somebody could do all
this. Just one person could control everything. And so a lot of people
believe that Satan did it through Hitler, but what I believe is that evil can’t
penetrate where there is no evil so Hitler was a horrible person, and if
Satan did do it with him, then he was evil before and Satan just made him
more evil. Like he just helped him out. Like I don’t really believe that
[Hitler] didn’t do anything—that he was just a work of the devil. [Hitler]
might have been, but I don’t really believe that it was just him.
Karen So in other words, you would not in all likelihood have been able to do
something like that?
13 Whenever I know the denomination of a student’s faith, I include it. Some students merely referred to themselves as “Christian,” in which cases, I do the same. 157 Lenore Right, right.
Karen Because you are not pre-disposed to evil like you think Hitler was?
Lenore Right, right.
Karen So you said before, “some people” say Satan did it. Who have you heard
say that?
Lenore Lots of people.
Karen Like who? Would people at your house agree with that statement?
Lenore Yes. And people at church say that. Just lots of people.
Lenore believed that Satan was not solely responsible for the Holocaust, as others she knew believed. Because of Hitler’s evil nature, he invited, so to speak, Satan into his body (“evil can’t penetrate where there is no evil,” Satan “just helped him out”). To
Lenore, evil did not reside in people unless they were already predisposed to it, as Hitler obviously was in her opinion. Interestingly, when I asked her what she would have done to stop the suffering of Jews, she said that she probably wouldn’t have done anything because if she had, she too would have been killed. “Is keeping silent in those conditions letting in evil?” I asked her. “No,” she said, “What good would you do if you were dead?” In Lenore’s worldview, there was no evil of omission, only commission.
Besides Lenore, many students claimed that Hitler was evil, demonic, or satanic.
In Ms. France’s class, Keniya came close to Lenore’s position on evil: “Ain’t no reason nobody be killing all them people except they possessed or something.” Keniya described herself as a religious person who belonged to a Baptist church. Other students also believed that Satan or hell were actually active on earth at this time. In response to a 158 picture prompt that Ms. France gave her students of Jews being marched to trains for deportation during the Warsaw Ghetto uprising (Figure 6.1 below), Shelaina (River Hill) wrote:
The Jews were being deported forced to take most valuable things with them and
leave everything else behind. My personal response is that at this point in time in
the Holocaust is when the Jews were about to race into Hell, Hell with Satan
himself standing guard. This is the time that Hell was on earth and they didn’t
even know it yet.
Figure 6.1 Photograph taken between Apr 19, 1943 - May 16, 1943 in Warsaw, Poland. Credit: USHMM, courtesy of National Archives, public domain.
To Shelaina, “Satan himself” was standing guard over the events of the Holocaust.
Mandie (River Hill) responded similarly to a different photograph that Ms. France asked
the students to explain. Figure 6.2 is a picture of two ovens in the crematorium at
Dachau. Mandie wrote: 159 This picture is the crematories where Jews got burned into ashes. In Night when
Elie first arrived in the camp they told that smoke came from crematories. The
crematories are the jaws of hell and are a symbol of the evil, Satan, and the demon
Hitler.
Figure 6.2 Photograph was taken July 1, 1945. Credit: USHMM, courtesy of National Archives, public domain.
But if Satan were standing guard over the Holocaust, in the minds of many students, he
was also standing guard over the perpetrators of the Holocaust. For example, Pryor
(River Hill) explained to me in an interview that “[Hitler] probably in hell burning right now for killing all them Jews.” 160 Active God
In addition to having a view of active Satan, students in the study also expressed a belief that God was present or expected in the face of evil. In a poem Lenore (Adams
2003) wrote about Night, she used the sun as symbolic of good.
The sun
shines as hope.
The gift
of sunshine,
heals our wounds.
I asked her about the poem in a separate interview. She explained to me that Elie had to keep faith in small things: “So they are looking at the little promises. Like the positive side. ‘At least it is sunny today and we’re not working in the rain and slipping and falling and being stepped on.’” Lenore also said in one of her journal entries: “Obviously, the bad guys are the German police and Hitler. The innocent people are the Jews and others at the concentration camps. Where are the good guys? I am waiting for the good guys.”
Like Lenore, Kylie (Adams, 2003), an Episcopalian, shared the view that God would soon be on his way. In a picture she drew (Figure 6.3), she depicted a member of the Einsatzgruppen about to murder a Jewish woman at very close range.14 In the background are masses of other victims waiting to be murdered as well. In the middle ground, Kylie drew thick clouds, slightly parting to let a strong beam of sunshine spray
14The Einsatzgruppen traveled around to various villages and murdered Jews, Roma, communist leaders, and partisans. The Einsatzgruppen were responsible for the murder of over 1 million Jews beginning in 1941. 161 its saving light on the desperate situation. When I asked her about the drawing, she told me that the yellow beam represented “rescue” and “how good wins out over evil.” Both
Lenore and Kylie mentioned sunshine as being salvific. This view is an interesting foil to the image of night in Wiesel’s memoir. Whereas Lenore and Kyle anticipated the intervention of God, it could be argued that Elie had come to learn that “the God of history” sometimes turns his face in a most egregious manner. The young women were using a Christian narrative of redemption while Elie was appropriating a narrative of atrocity. These students describe the Holocaust as a microcosm of the greater struggle between good and evil that affects the whole world.
Figure 6.3 Member of the Einsaztgruppen killing a Jewish woman (Kylie).
In the same vein, Molly (Adams, 2003) created a collage for her research project on Auschwitz. Amid the horrible scenes of human destruction, she had the following 162 words superimposed: Hunger, Disease, Hatred, Death, Starvation, Exhaustion, and GOD.
Molly explained to me in an interview that “GOD”—in all capitals—belonged among the images of Auschwitz because otherwise everyone would have died. In others words, she thought that God was actively involved in the redemption of people at Auschwitz.
According to Logan (River Hill), it is God’s active intention that all people on earth be saved. “Christ’s suffering brought about new found freedom for people today. It is not his intention that anyone should perish, but for every progression, there is something that catastrophic happens. That is one way to explain the Holocaust.”
Similarly, Mandie (River Hill) argued that “Everybody, I mean even if you don’t go to church everybody know God exist, and they know God help some people with some cases.” The worldview that informed these students’ interpretations was undergirded by a belief in a dynamic synergy between an active Satan and active God. The Holocaust is explicable somewhere within that synergy.
Preaching
The “preaching” classification demonstrates how students used their religious worldview to urge Elie in Night to keep the faith. Students who preached to Elie were warning him of the dangers of not following the correct road map for salvation. This category contains two parts: advice and testing. Those who fell under “advice” believed that Elie was certain to die, go to hell, or suffer some other misfortune if he let go of his faith. Those who fell under “testing” were simply trying to explain to Elie the purpose for evil in the world. 163 Advice
In the chapter-opening dialogue, Stella had a series of turns before the one from
Hawthorne with which I started this chapter. In fact, she stated the opinion against which
Hawthorne then argued.
Stella Okay, [Elie] should’ve kept his faith in God, but he didn’t.
Karen Why should he have?
Stella Because then he would have somebody to believe in in the world instead
of being all alone.
Karen So you think faith in God would have helped him?
Stella Well, he lost his faith and all these bad things happened to him, like his
father dying.
Karen Because he lost his faith, you think?
Stella Well, he like lost his faith, then his whole world fell apart.
For Stella, the Holocaust didn’t cause Elie to lose his faith, his lost faith caused “his world [to fall] apart.” In order to make this assertion, Stella has to “forget” how religious
Elie was at the opening of the memoir and that he and his family were ghettoized and deported to Auschwitz while his faith was still in tact.
In a whole class discussion of Night at Adams in 2004, Razzle spoke about the road map to salvation as being the Bible:
Razzle I think Elie should base his decision [about whether or not to keep his
faith] on what the Bible says.
Karen Okay. A Christian Bible or the Jewish Bible? 164 Razzle There’s a Jewish Bible?
Karen Yes.
Razzle I have no idea
Razzle naively presumed that her bible, The Bible, would be the same holy book that Elie would consult, were he to have one. She knew, I think, that Elie had no actual bible at
Auschwitz-Birkenau-Buna, but the implication was that he should keep his faith because the Bible says so.
According to Patty, a student in Mrs. Parker’s class in 2003, losing faith in God meant losing one’s soul and “burning in hell,” as she explained to me. And, in a journal entry about Night she wrote, “As a Jew, it’s probably horrible if someone loses faith in
God. And if they don’t have a soul anymore, there’s even less reason to stay alive.”
Charlotte’s journal (Adams, 2004; Charlotte is Catholic) also touched on the idea of Elie losing his soul: “Eliezer and his father understood each other and both lost their faith in
God. They were just soulless now and in horrible circumstances.” Molly (Adams, 2003) wrote in her journal, “Without faith and hope all would be lost.” These girls have a fatalistic view of questioning faith, and Patty and Charlotte even think that Jews who lost faith no longer had souls, though they may be unconsciously referring to a line in Night in which Elie says, “Never shall I forget those moments which murdered my God and my soul and turned my dreams to dust” (p. 32).
Further, in Annabelle’s journal (Adams, 2004), she accepted that Elie lost his faith, but she still took the opportunity to find fault with his behavior: 165 The book was meaningful to me because it showed that he lost his faith just by
seeing others being put to death. It is very sad that he can’t believe anymore
because of others cruelty. He should have focused on how God saved his life
instead.
Annabelle admonished Elie for not focusing on God’s saving power. The real lesson in the memoir for Annabelle was that one should never give up on God as Elie did; she advocated a focus on God’s saving power rather than on the surrounding cruelty. Belinda
(River Hill) interpreted the hanging of the little boy by saying “God …let it happen for a reason. He was there the whole time, but since people were questioning him and losing faith, he wasn’t doing nothing about it.” Belinda’s was the strongest indictment of questioning God.
Testing
Students in the testing category thought the evil could be explained by the fact that God tests his people. This category differs from “advice” because it proposes a theodicy. Again, this is not solely a “Christian” principle; in fact, in Night, Akiba Drumer says, “God is testing us. He wants to find out whether we can dominate our base instincts and kill the Satan within us” (Wiesel, 1982, p. 42).
Tina’s journal (Adams, 2003) warned Elie that he should not give up faith because “there [is] an even greater plan in store for him than Hitler’s.” Though the times were horrible, Tina might say, God was aware and, in fact, was accomplishing His plan.
Keniya (River Hill) told me in an interview at the end of the unit that Elie should know,
“All things work for the good, and you got to have faith in that.” Either she meant that 166 even bad things are in God’s plan (which would be a form of testing) or that even when bad things happen (though they aren’t originally in His plan), God can turn them around for good (which is still a test of faith). Sydney (Adams, 2004) urged Elie to hold on to his faith because “during times of testing, that’s a time to get closer to God, not away from him.” And finally, Razzle (Adams, 2004) wrote in her journal perhaps the most elaborate articulation of “testing”:
The text ends by Elie being freed. This makes me realize that Elie was right to
have hope and faith in God because all of this happened for them, just to be freed
in the end. It was a test, and he passed.
The students in the “Preaching” category emphasized the way Elie should have behaved and emphasized the saving power of God. The extreme horror of the Holocaust alone may have caused these kinds of religious musings in my study participants, and that coupled with Elie’s struggles with this own faith (so prominent in the memoir), may have been an even stronger trigger for religious thinking. Ms. France’s religious narrative frames situated her in this category, as someone who believed that there was some purpose to the suffering of the Holocaust.
Superseding
“Superseding” is the next category, and like many of the student responses to
Anne Frank (Chapter 7), it distorts the events in an effort to affirm that “God's in his
Heaven—/All's right with the world!” (Browning, 1956, lines 227-228), or overlays the
text with students’ own Christian iconography. As an illustration of this category, take
the following answer from Sammy’s (River Hill) study guide question about the section 167 of Night in which the sad-eyed angel is hanged: “The dying child was a symbol of God’s innocence, love, and good conduct toward Elie.” The child was an innocent victim of the
Nazis, but referring to God’s good conduct toward Elie distorted the reality of the starvation, death marches, and dehumanization Elie endured. Sammy looked at the suffering child and saw God’s good conduct toward Elie.
Ignoring Elie’s suffering or faith struggles. While some students, seeing that Elie was struggling with faith, preached to him about salvific faith, others chose to ignore the substantial evidence in the book that Elie was indeed struggling with his faith. Sandy
(Adams, 2003) explained in her journal that Elie relied upon God with hope and love:
Night can be looked at in many ways. To some it is the terrible life styles of a Jew
in a concentration camp. To others it is an amazing story of a young man who
fights death with hope and love. To me it is both. The story of Night is about a
young Jewish boy going through sudden changes. And relying on his belief in god
to save him.
Sandy chose to focus on God’s salvation instead of on the horror of the Holocaust.
Sandy’s journal entry is an example of students’ accentuating the saving power of God and downplaying the suffering of the Jews. While she acknowledged that Night can be read 1) by focusing on the horror, 2) by focusing on a boy using his faith, or 3) by combining both, she chooses the latter—a story of Elie relying on God while he goes though “sudden changes.” Her choice of the words, “going through sudden changes,” masks the horror, and the construction of that sentence does not implicate any perpetrators. 168 Like Sandy, Jen (Adams, 2003) downplayed Elie’s suffering and exaggerated the special care Elie received. “God really took care of him while he was in the concentration camps. God brought him all the way through the long, very hard journey of the
Holocaust.” The same thing occurred in the excerpt from a class discussion of Night appended below. Carl and Devlin (Adams, 2004), glossed over the textual evidence that pointed to the fragility of Elie’s faith in God.
Carl Um, I think that [Elie] is really religious still, and he tries to see God in
everything. It makes him happier to see God is looking out for him.
Hawthorne That is so stupid. Show me where you see that!
Carl Gosh, Hawthorne, simmer down.
Class [Laughs]
Devlin I agree with Carl. When he looks at the boy being hanged.
Hawthorne [Throws his hands up in the air in disbelief.]
Other students responded like Carl and Devlin. After reading Night, Geoffrey believed that “Elie is devoted to his faith and will always believe,” while Zoe said, “Elie was right not to give up on God, because this liberation says that if you hope for help, or whatever, it will eventually come.” Out of all the possible messages to cull from the text, Beef thought that “the message…from the text [was] to never lose faith in God and to believe.”
Overlaying their own faith. Students who overlaid their own faith, credited to Elie their own religious symbolism within the scene of the young boy’s hanging. The death of the young boy affected Elie and the other prisoners even though they were fully acquainted with the beatings, hangings, and crematories. The young boy, Elie explained, 169 was “loved by all” (p. 60), and the public spectacle of his hanging brought the taste of death onto Elie’s tongue in a way the ashes had never done. Logan, a student in Ms.
France’s class who told me he was Baptist, analyzed the hanging of the sad-eyed angel in an interview.
Logan I thought it represent some symbolism. I remember the symbolism from
the actual Bible itself and the crucifying of Jesus Christ. That little boy
was stood there and he was hanged. He was hung. And he was sitting there
and he was suffering, and I’m sure it was an hour, but he wouldn’t die
because his body weight was so low, and his neck wouldn’t snap. And in
the Bible, Jesus was crucified on the cross, and he had nails in his hands
and in his feet, and he had the crown on. They were similar, and they
would represent how in the Bible, Jesus did that supposedly for the love
for all his children.
Karen By “his children,” do you mean everybody?
Logan Everybody in the world. The Bible tells us, and I ain’t trying to make
nobody believe in it, but the Bible says that God created everybody in his
image, so that little boy was sitting there, and he was hung, and I thought
it was symbolism because it was similar to what happened to Jesus even
though they had their distinct differences.
While finding a Christ-figure in literature might just be considered “doing English,” the interview with Logan showed that the death of the child had theological implications.
Logan’s use of “actual” and the self-reflexive “itself” served to intensify the importance 170 of the word they buttressed—Bible. The Christian Bible, in Logan’s view, was the instrument through which he arrived at his interpretation of Night. Logan explained what triggered his identification of the little boy with Jesus Christ. When the pipel was hanged, he suffered tremendously because his neck did not snap. He slowly suffocated instead.
Likewise, Jesus’ death was accompanied by great suffering. When “Jesus Christ was crucified on the cross, he had nails in his hands and in his feet, and he had the crown on.”
Logan goes on to explain that Jesus died “for the love for all his children.” Logan placed
Jesus Christ in the middle of the horror of Auschwitz.
Like Logan, Vance’s discussion group in Mrs. Parker’s class (Adams, 2003) interpreted the hanging of the young boy as symbolic of Christ’s crucifixion. They discussed the scene in their small group and then wrote the following on their group poster:
One of the themes in Night is innocence. This theme is best represented when the
little boy is hanged. His sad, angel eyes represent his innocence. He didn’t even
struggle, he just bit his lip. He lived for a half an hour, as if he was supposed to
live. We think that Elie never totally lost faith in God. We think he began to
believe, along with the others that it was a test of faith. Then he regained more
hope in His existence with the hanging of the little boy.
Because I was so surprised when Vance’s group read this response to the whole class, I later interviewed him:
Karen What did you mean by Elie finding his faith again during the hanging of
the little boy? 171 Vance Yeah, he saw God. That was comforting given all of the death. He found
God.
Karen He found God?
Vance The boy was like a Christ figure.
Karen How did the boy save the others?
Vance He helped them improve their faith.
The members of Vance’s group and Logan came up with very similar interpretations: the young child, a pipel, as Elie called him, was a Christ figure. Vance’s group saw the hanging in a similar way, but they focused on the innocence of the young boy, just as
Jesus was guiltless and sinless. Unlike Logan, Vance offered an explanation for how the hanging was salvific. He said that the prisoners gained faith in God through the boy’s death.
At Adams in 2003, Vance and his group were the only ones I knew about who interpreted the hanging in a salvific way. At River Hill, 8 students besides Logan thought that the young boy was a Christ figure or that God was “in the boy” trying to redeem him.
Kimberly (River Hill) said she had trouble understanding the passage because she looked for God and only saw the poor boy, so she figured since Elie said that the boy was God, that God must somehow be there, but she didn’t understand how. She then assumed that
God was trying to save the boy. At Adams in 2004, another 8 students originally thought that the boy’s hanging was salvific, but after classroom discussion, they changed their minds—at least publicly. Part of the reason for this could have been that Hawthorne was such an outspoken advocate of his own, opposing, viewpoint that others just decided to 172 keep their views to themselves. The hanging of the young child in Night was the critical scene for religious thinking in students—both for those who thought Elie lost his faith with the hanging of the boy and for those who thought the hanging was a salvific act
(though I’ve only focused upon the latter in this chapter).
Struggling
The fourth heading, “Struggling,” presents the findings for students who struggled with how the Holocaust fit into their already present belief in God. Two kinds of responses comprise this category. First, students who began to question their own faith in
God as a result of studying the Holocaust, but then retreated from their own questioning back to a comfortable place of belief; and second, students who did not supersede the horror of the Holocaust, and yet were able to find a way to hold on to their faith in God.
Questioning own faith. Molly said, “Elie thinks God didn’t come around anymore.
That he was on his own now. Being without God is one thing that would be very hard for me.” Because Molly, a member of the Catholic Church, considered what it would be like to be without God, she was at the beginning stages of understanding Elie’s struggles.
Molly, in an act of empathy, wondered what it would be like if “God didn’t come around anymore.” She imagined what it must be like to be in a world without God. But she quickly retreated from this possibility by asserting that being without God would be difficult for her. It is clear that she still does believe in God because of her use of “would be,” used here to show a hypothetical situation. Elie’s story brought empathy, but not a crisis in her own faith, further evidenced when she asserted, “Without faith and hope all would be lost.” 173 Similarly, Kylie said,
So far, Elie and his father have survived the innumerable hardships at Auschwitz.
They’ve overcome their fear of death. Elie, once an avid believer in God, has lost
his faith after the hanging of the child. I personally can’t imagine anything
horrible enough to make me lose my faith in God.
As Kylie pondered the fate of Elie’s faith, she began to question her own. Kylie, like
Molly, was able to see that Elie really struggled with his faith (unlike the superseders), and he may have even lost it completely after the “innumerable hardships at Auschwitz” and the hanging of the small boy. After acknowledging the suffering, however, she reaffirmed her own unshakable faith: “I personally can’t imagine anything horrible enough to make me lose my faith in God.”
Miranda (Adams, 2003), also responding to the hanging of the young boy, wrote:
I often have this question in my head but soon correct myself. But I find it ironic
that even in tragic and everyday simple problems people seem to question God
and have been doing so for a long time. Maybe now I see why we are tested. So
we know what we really have.
Miranda came close to being changed by her interaction with Holocaust literature. She went beyond empathy with the textual victims to actually questioning her beliefs in the
“lived world.” Soon, however, she corrected herself for this kind of thinking that dared to question God. She retreated to a position where she saw wavering faith as “ironic.” The implication here is that during the toughest times, people should pull close to God, not away from him. She also found meaning in the tough times—God is testing the faith of 174 his people. Even if struggles did not bring about any major shifts in thinking, students in this category were beginning to form questions about how God and the Holocaust coexist. Mrs. Parker belongs in this category as well (discussed in Chapter 4).
Questions with no answers. Unlike participants classified under “Questioning own faith,” those classified under “Questions with no answers,” did not retreat back to their faith thinking it could explain the Holocaust. Keniya (River Hill), said, “It just don’t make sense. No sense at all. God is good. I know that. The Holocaust horror, hell on earth, is bad. How both are true? But they are. It’s a paradox.” Keniya came to the conclusion that the Holocaust seemed to countermand a belief in God, just as a belief in
God seemed to negate the Holocaust. In an interview I had with her after she read Night, I asked her about how her own faith was affected.
Karen Did this unit cause you to question your faith in God?
Keniya I thought: If there is really a God how could He just let something like this
happen? Or how could the world just see it, but try to deny it. Evidence is
all there. So it did make me question my faith.
Keniya came to the uneasy conclusion that though it would seem like the Holocaust countermanded a belief in a good God, it didn’t, but neither did it mean that the
Holocaust made sense. Her “paradox” allowed her faith to remain while not having to distort the horror of the Holocaust.
Much like Keniya, Sydney (Adams, 2004) asked in a journal entry about Night:
Why isn’t God stopping the Nazis or, in our case, the terrorists? It makes me
question my faith. As I read this book some questions came to mind. How did 175 God let the Holocaust happen? This book is so disturbing, I think that I am going
to be ill. It’s just sick. I know what Elie means about God’s power.
Like Keniya, Sydney didn’t try to mitigate the horror of the Holocaust. In fact, she experienced it so fully that it made her “ill” and “sick.” Also like Keniya, the gravity of the Holocaust summoned up the theological issue of God’s goodness in an obviously evil world. Interestingly, Sydney likened God’s inaction in the Holocaust with God’s inaction in the post-9/11 world—another reason, I think, it is important to understand students’ religious responses to what they learn in school.
Claire (Adams, 2004), a Methodist, questioned why God didn’t act specifically on behalf of the Jews. She began this section of her journal entry with a quotation from
Night, and then continued with her query:
“Oh God, Lord of the Universe, take pity upon us in Thy great mercy.” This quote
is meaningful to me because I am a BIG believer in God and when he doesn’t take
any pity upon Jews it makes me wonder.
Again, like Keniya and Sydney, this young lady struggled with the quandary of God’s goodness and inaction, in this case, in the face of fervent prayer. Her concern was echoed by Evangeline, who said: “If you do believe in God & that he will protect & save you, then how can He let 10,000 or more Jews die (especially children)?” She at once acknowledged God’s ability to save and yet his inaction in the face of dying children.
Many fewer boys than girls responded in ways that fit into this category, but
Myron (River Hill) and Jason (Adams, 2004) are notable exceptions. Myron wrote in his study guide, “Night cause me to question my faith a little because why wouldn’t god help 176 them like he did before?” Myron didn’t explicitly mention “Jews,” but he did refer to
“them” as those whom God had helped in the past (presumably during biblical times).
Both Claire and Evangeline did expressly mention Jews. To many Christians, the victimization of Jews takes on special theological significance (Rubenstein, 1995). Jason also mentioned the Jews in particular: “How could God let his Chosen People die like that? It makes me wonder if they aren’t safe, who is?” The particularity of the Jewish suffering caused Claire, Evangeline, Myron, and Jason to question God’s goodness, but in the next section, participants painted another picture of the particularity of Jewish suffering.
Condemning
“Condemning” demonstrates how students framed their discussion of the
Holocaust and Elie’s particular situation through the religiously inspired antisemitic myth of Jews—past and present—as Christ killers.15 The section below entitled “Christ
Killers” explores students’ familiarity with the myth including those who probably don’t
believe it, may believe, or do believe it but don’t think Jews are guilty in the sense that
they should be punished. The next section “Jews Deserved to Die” is self-explanatory,
and these students’ condemnations of Jews emanate from the premise that Jews killed
Christ.
The Christ killer myth that informs this category of responses was more openly prevalent at River Hill than at Adams. Two important events at River Hill (that I
discussed in Chapter 5) influenced the way students responded to the Holocaust in ways
15 I explore non-religious forms of Jewish condemnation in Chapter 8, “Enfiguring Hitler, Asking Questions, Learning Lessons.” 177 that condemned Jews. First, the social studies teacher, Mr. May, specifically mentioned the Christ killer myth as “technically true” in class; and second, the movie The Passion of the Christ (Gibson, 2004) was just coming out, and talk about Jews as Christ killers was in the news, on the streets, and in the houses and churches of these students. I believe that if I were to go back now, for instance, there would be considerably less talk about Jews as Christ killers. It is important that these data be read with those conditions in mind.
Christ Killers
Many times during class discussions at River Hill students raised the topic that, historically speaking, Jews have been blamed for the death of Jesus. When students were discussing how the Holocaust could have possibly happened, Jerome said, “People hate
Jews, I guess, ‘cause they killed Jesus.” No one challenged this statement or asked
Jerome a follow up question. Daniel followed Jerome by saying, “Hitler crazy. That’s it!”
And then the discussion went into a new direction. On an earlier day, while talking about the similarities between the Jim Crow laws and the Nuremberg laws, Hallie said, “Hitler hated Jews because they killed Christ, and he didn’t want that blood in with good German blood. Same with the Blacks. People didn’t want Blacks and Whites intermarrying because they thought Blacks were inferior.” During the unit-ending seminar Rudy said,
“Hitler didn’t just start off with the belief that Jews killed Christ and et cetera. Hitler said it was morally justified.” Jerome, Daniel, and Hallie all mentioned that people have believed that Jews killed Christ and this is a reason that Jews have been hated and targeted in the past. Rudy rightly pointed out that antisemitism (and he refers specifically to religious antisemitism) didn’t begin with Hitler. Terrella (River Hill) said, “Christians 178 could not really help Jews because they killed [the Christian] God. How you going to help them after that?”
Other students wondered if the Jews were responsible for the death of Christ. The
Passion of the Christ (2004) was their reason for considering the question: Did Jews kill
God? Franklin (River Hill) said, “I’ve heard [the deicide charge] on The Passion, and to me I really don’t know, but that’s not an excuse for the Germans to take life into their own hands.” Though Franklin thought the charge could be true, nonetheless, he was sure that it wouldn’t justify genocide. Jessica, like Franklin, heard the deicide charge before she watched The Passion of the Christ, and she said, “At first I thought it was true when I saw the beginning of the movie, but in the end definitely not.” For Jessica, seeing the movie helped her determine that the death of Christ wasn’t the Jews’ fault. Terrella wasn’t so sure about her position on this point: “Killing God came up when the Passion of the Christ came to the movies. I don’t know if I believe it.” The timing of the
Holocaust unit with the debut of the movie must have had an impact on how students responded to Jews and the Holocaust. This, coupled with the fact that Mr. May basically gave them permission to believe that Jews were/are technically responsible for the death of God, made the phrase “Christ killer” a daily occurrence in Ms. France’s classroom in
2004. Teachers never responded to classroom comments that included “Christ killer.” As shown in Chapter 5, they were afraid of discussing religious issues in the classroom.
Students at Adams (2004) also spoke about Jews as Christ killers, though not nearly as often. In a small group discussion with Nebula and Sydney, Geoffrey said,
“Antisemitism started because when the Jewish crucified Jesus, people started thinking 179 that they were equated with the devil. It started antisemitism.” Students at Adams in 2003 didn’t speak of Jews as Christ killers at all that I heard. Interestingly, we spent a few days on the history of antisemitism at Adams in 2004, and this could explain why it came up for Geoffrey. On the other hand, on the first day of the unit Fiona (2004) offered her reason why the Holocaust happened: “Oh, oh, it’s because, well, it’s probably because they killed God.”
Another set of students clearly saw Jewish religious beliefs as different, menacing, or perhaps even deserving of punishment. Vicco (River Hill) said, “Jews have their own beliefs in someone, but I just hope it’s not the Devil.” Vicco’s account of
Jewish beliefs can be traced back to the demonization of Jews in the middle ages (Hellig,
2003). Squirt (Adams, 2004; Squirt is Presbyterian), commenting on the hanging of the little boy, wrote:
“Where is God now?...Where is He? Here He is—He is hanging here on this
gallows…”. To me that is meaningful because I read in an article once that Jews
don’t pray to Jesus or ask for his help. Not to be mean but maybe none of this
would have started. I’m not saying it is the Jewish fault.
Squirt tip-toed around the idea that the Holocaust was perhaps the fault of the Jews because they didn’t “pray to Jesus.” She was happy to see them praying, and quick to make sure I (or whoever read her journal) didn’t think she was blaming them. Delaila
(River Hill) may have been on the verge of saying Jews deserved to die. She wrote in her study guide, “They picked the Jews because they killed Jesus Christ, but it was harsh for 180 me.” The reason for picking the Jews seemed clear enough to Delaila, but she did not agree with the extent of Jewish victimization.
Others seemed to believe that Jews were responsible for the death of Jesus, but they didn’t necessarily hold it against them. At the unit-ending seminar, Kendra (River
Hill) spoke about antisemitism: “After The Passion, people still have hatred for Jews, for what they did: killing Christ and all that.” People in this category believed the Christ- killer myth, but didn’t say that the Holocaust was some kind of divine retribution. Kate
(River Hill) said to me in an interview:
Karen Why did this discrimination against Jews happen [the Holocaust]?
Kate Because of their race and their belief. A lot of it is because some people
called themselves Christians, and they blamed Jesus’ crucifixation on the
Jews.
Karen So you think that is what was happening in Germany?
Kate Somewhat, because I asked Mr. May [the social studies teacher], “What
religion was he?” And he said that he [Hitler] was Christian.
Karen Do you consider yourself a religious person?
Kate Yes.
Karen What do you think about that: Jews killing Jesus.
Kate I don’t think it’s right [to kill Jesus] because I don’t think nobody has the
right to kill anybody.
Karen Okay. No one has the right to. People say that Jews killed Jesus. What do
you think of that? 181 Kate I don’t think it’s right that they did that. But if you read in the Bible, I
don’t know, the Bible say that there is a reason for everything, so I mean,
and Jesus was resurrected three days after he died, so. I don’t want to say
it was right for them to do that, but I guess it was inevitable. If you
religious that’s what God intended to happen, so it was going to happen
either way. But it still wasn’t right.
Kate’s theology was complex compared to others. She believed that Jews killed Christ, but he didn’t really die (“resurrected three days after”), and it was God’s intention that
Jesus should be killed, so Jews weren’t really responsible. Keniya agreed with Kate that religious animus was the cause of discrimination during the Holocaust. She was more cautious than Kate regarding the question of Jews killing Christ.
Even though I am religious, I don’t think that [genocide] should happen to
anybody. God forgive the Jews, everybody, so there ain’t no reason them saying
Jews deserve to die in the Holocaust.
Students with this position may believe that Jews killed Christ, but they also believe that this fact does not in any way justify the Holocaust.
Jews Deserved to Die
Students who responded to the Holocaust with this view thought that Jews deserved the suffering and death of the Holocaust because of their crimes against God.
Some students’ responses for “Preaching” logically belonged under “Condemnation” because they ultimately led to this place, but the students often didn’t make the connection explicit, with the possible exception Belinda (River Hill) who said, “God 182 …let it happen for a reason. He was there the whole time, but since people were questioning him and losing faith, he wasn’t doing nothing about it.” Belinda’s statement was a difficult one to categorize. On the other hand, Pryor, a Baptist, reluctantly acknowledged his belief that the Holocaust was “somewhat” God’s revenge on Jews for killing Jesus.
Pryor I don’t think most people [Germans] liked them [the Jews].
Karen Why?
Pryor I think there was, like with the movie The Passion of the Christ coming
out. Like how Jews killed God, I mean Jesus, and all that. So, that’s one
main reason why they don’t like Jews.
Karen Did you just hear that when you were hearing all the hub-bub about the
movie?
Pryor I heard it before, but it came up big when the movie was coming up.
Karen Did you ever hear it in church?
Pryor In church, I heard it.
Karen Did you hear it in the sense that it was true or that it was not true?
Pryor Well, we was talking about it in the church. When we have like teen night,
we talked about it. We talked about stuff about church and all that, and
school. We was talking about how Jesus actually died. And we was talking
about how other people felt about if Jews killed him or not.
Karen Mmm hmm.
Pryor But I don’t know. Personally, I don’t know what happened. 183 Karen Okay, do you recall what the “other people” thought.
Pryor Some people thought the Jews killed him. Some people thought like he
just died on his own. Some people thought…I don’t really know.
Karen What do you think?
Pryor Well, he [God] probably think it’s bad, everybody being killed [in the
Holocaust]. One of the ten commandments is, “Thou shall not kill,” so He
wouldn’t want anybody to die for His death anyway.
Karen So you don’t think the Holocaust was “deserved”?
Pryor Well, it was somewhat of a punishment.16
Pryor attributed his knowledge about Jews as Christ killers to the movie The Passion of
the Christ (Gibson, 2004) and to teen night at Church. Other forces were no doubt
important as well, like hearing it daily in his English class from other students. Other
participants expressed the belief that Jews deserved punishment for how they behaved
toward God. In the unit-ending seminar, Katrina (River Hill) said, “I am not sure they
deserved to die like that, but they deserved some punishment though.” Ms. France asked
the students to explain how reading Night had changed them. Delaila (River Hill) wrote,
“It didn’t change me. I wouldn’t want that for me, but they got to expect it, killing God.”
And finally, Erica (River Hill) explained that Jews deserved what they got because they
didn’t worship God.
16 When I reread this interview with Pryor, it seemed as though I was pushing him quite a bit. Given the fact that I noticed students at River Hill felt as though I was an authority, I consider this a mistake; however, I don’t think I pushed him harder that I pushed Lenore at Adams in 2003 or Annabelle at Adams in 2004. 184 Students found the Christ killer accusation in church, in the media coverage of
The Passion of the Christ, in the movie itself, at home, and in their English and social studies classes. Pryor, Katrina, Delaila, and Erica all expressed their belief that the
Holocaust was an act of revenge on Jews from God.
Some aspects of students’ religious responses to Night eerily approximate historical stances of the Christian faith toward Jews over the millennia. Rubinstein and
Roth (2003) argue that the Holocaust “resonates with the religiomythic traditions of
Western civilization” (p. 327). Students who preached to Elie are not unlike St.
Augustine or Martin Luther who believed that conversion of the Jews was necessary for the salvation of the world (Hellig, 2003; Ruether, 1974). The superseding category relates to replacement theology, the belief that Christians have replaced the Jews as God’s chosen people and all the promises to the Jews now belong to Christian believers
(Reuther, 1974). Of course, the supersession that occurred in student responses was an obscuring of suffering and an overlay of Christian symbolism upon Elie’s nightmare, not an outright denial of continued existence. The condemners carry the antisemitic slur on their tongues that has led to massive amounts of Jewish bloodletting beginning in medieval times (Ruether, 1974). These practices that live within the deep grammar of
Christianity, emerged in the student responses to Night. Except for the struggling category, the religious responses reestablished Christianity as the proper faith stance, even if doing so meant condemnation to the Jews. A result of these kinds of religious responses is that Jews became enfigured as Other and at least implicitly deserving of their fate. Placing Christ amidst the horrors of Auschwitz (superseding category) caused a 185 double condemnation of Jews—for rejecting the Messiah in 33 CE and again circa 1944
CE.
Summary
As the students represented in this paper stood at the intersection of their multiple figured worlds (Gee, 1996; Holland et al., 1998), they used their religious worldview to construct interpretations of Night, Jews, and the Holocaust. Siedman (1996) argued that religious interpretations are a necessary consequence of a careful reading of Night, so it is not surprising that participants in this study did so. Moves like world-building, preaching, superseding, struggling, and condemning were particular ways that participants constructed Jews and the Holocaust during the reading of Night.
These categories were not mutually exclusive; in fact, a belief in the view that the whole world struggle of good versus evil is the warrant for the other categories, since the canonical Christian narrative is the story of the sinfulness of man and the redemption of
God (Soulen, 1996). Kylie’s picture of the Jewish woman being murdered by a member of an Einsatzgruppen while the sun shined down on the field is an example of the way the
Christian students set up the basic struggle of the world: good versus evil. Other students were compelled to preach to Elie, giving him advice about how he should behave toward
God, or reassuring him that the Holocaust was just a test. Those in the “superseding” category performed one of two moves: 1) they ignored the suffering of the Holocaust or
Elie’s struggle with his faith; or 2) they overlaid their own religious belief onto the hanging of the little boy. Some students struggled with their own faith as they read about the destruction of the Jews. One group of these strugglers was able to return to a 186 homeostatic place in their faith; the other group also questioned their faith, but they didn’t come up with answers that made the Holocaust understandable. The final group, and the most malignant toward Jews, was the condemners. This category was unified in that all of those in it made reference to the Christ killer myth. Some of the students simply mentioned it as a historical practice; others thought that Jews did kill Jesus, but that God didn’t hold it against them; and still others thought that Jews deserved the
Holocaust because they killed Christ. 187
Chapter 7
Anne Could Frolic at Bergen-Belsen
Every generation frames the Holocaust, represents the Holocaust, in ways that suit its
mood. (Novick, 1999, p. 120)
The students were bubbling around the classroom in what seemed like a post-
lunch potato chip and chocolate pudding high, waiting for the bell to signal the end of a
full half-hour of eating pizza, hanging out with friends, and planning for weekend
festivities, which included the added excitement of a football game against Stone Ridge,
the big rival. I was at Adams Junior High (2004) in their 8th grade, gifted English class as a university researcher who was co-teaching some elements of their unit on Holocaust literature. The kids settled in as the bell sounded. The class had finished reading the play
The Diary of Anne Frank (Goodrich & Hackett, 1994) in the prior meeting.17 I began this
17 Following the example of Melnick (1997), Novick (1999), and Ozick (2000), I will refer to Anne Frank’s diary as “the Diary” whenever I am referring to it in general. 188 class by asking, “Who knows what happened to Anne after their hiding place was discovered?” Munen, who raised his hand for every question, offered,
“First she went to the transit camp and then to Auschwitz.”18
“Yes, and then to Bergen-Belsen as well. What did Anne experience at Auschwitz
and Bergen-Belsen, do you think?” Charlotte answered, “
Knowing Anne, she was happy in the concentration camps. She didn’t have to be
quiet anymore; she could frolic outside. She could be in nature. She loved nature.
I think this was a welcome relief for her.
I asked, “Who agrees with Charlotte?” The room was filled with lifted arms; some
had both hands raised while others kept their elbows on their desks with their forearms
raised, as if they were not completely sure or did not want to put forth more effort. No
one raised a voice or kept an arm down in protest of Charlotte’s statement. No one. This
response did not take me by surprise—this time. I had seen similar responses the year
before, so this time I was ready for the “frolicking” Anne they constructed.
This chapter explores the way that editors, writers, publishers, teachers, and
students constructed Anne in hopeful ways and the attempts by me as a teacher-
researcher to have students question the authority of texts and balance the refiguring
(Ricoeur, 1984, 1988) of their text worlds and lived worlds.
The Diary Past and Present
Although the Diary is widely taught in U.S. schools, its different incarnations
remain contentious and the subject of scholarly attention. One hundred percent of the
18 The transit camp was Westerbork, originally a refugee camp set up by the Dutch government in 1939 to handle the stream of Jews fleeing Germany to The Netherlands. 189 students at Adams Junior High read an anthologized version of Goodrich and Hackett’s
(1994) play The Diary of Anne Frank before moving on to high school. Half of the respondents to a Holocaust survey conducted by the University of Michigan claimed that they were required to read some version of the Diary while in high school (Bishoping,
1997), and a quick search on the internet demonstrates the plethora of resources for teaching the Diary in schools. Despite this overwhelming acceptance of her diary as appropriate for secondary school students, there has been a lot of controversy surrounding the Diary, and the four teachers in my study were not aware of it. I suspect they were not alone in this regard.
Anne didn’t think that her diary was simply an outlet for her private thoughts; she hoped that one day others would read it. Her diary entry for Wednesday, March 29, 1944, explained that a Dutch Cabinet Minister in exile in London, Mr. Gerrit Bolkestein, told the radio audience that “after the war a collection would be made of diaries and letters dealing with the war” (Frank, 2001, p. 244). It was at this time that Anne began editing her original diary. She changed the names of the inhabitants of the secret annex, presumably to protect them, though that turned out to be an unnecessary precaution since all but Otto Frank perished in concentration camps. “She began rewriting and editing her diary, improving on the text, omitting passages she didn’t think were interesting enough and adding others from memory” (Frank, 2001, p. v).
Anne’s wish that her diary be read was granted in 1947 when Otto Frank published an edited version in the original Dutch. He chose to hold back many pejorative comments Anne made about her mother, various adolescent musings about sexuality, 190 “numerous expressions of religious faith, a direct reference to Yom Kippur” (Ozick,
2000, p. 89), and many disparaging comments about Germans and the German language.
Anne’s original diary is at least twice removed from what Otto Frank published since both she and he edited the diary in expectation of public consumption. His decisions about what to publish were directed by motivations and concerns that Anne did not necessarily share. She was not allowed, as Ozick (2000) pointed out, a “final word” on the matter.
The most controversial version of the Diary is Goodrich and Hackett’s (1994) screenplay, the version that Mrs. Parker’s students read. According to Cynthia Ozick
(2000), Meyer Levin provoked the initial controversy surrounding the rights to the adaptation of the Diary. She explained that as a war correspondent with the United States military’s Fourth Armored Division that entered the Buchenwald, Dachau, and Bergen-
Belsen concentration camps, Levin,
saw there [what] was ungraspable and unendurable. “As I groped in the first
weeks beginning to apprehend the monstrous shape of the story I would have to
tell,” he wrote, “I knew already that I would never penetrate its heart of bile, for
the magnitude of the horror seemed beyond human register.” The truest telling, he
affirmed, would have to rise up out of the mouth of a victim. (pp. 88-89)
Levin read the French translation in 1950, and “felt he had found what he had thirsted after: a voice crying up from the ground, an authentic witness to the German onslaught”
(Ozick, 2000, p. 89). He contacted Otto Frank and tried to help him find a publisher for the diary in the U.S.; all the time Levin hoped and planned to adapt the diary for the 191 stage. At first Otto Frank supported Levin in this endeavor, but differences in how her diary should be rendered erupted into public spectacle (Graver, 1995; Melnick, 1997). In the end, Levin’s draft was dismissed, and Frances Goodrich and Albert Hackett were hired to adapt the diary for the stage.
According to Ozick (2000), the Goodrich and Hackett (1994) play that was staged all over the world retained a conciliatory tone that Otto Frank wanted it to have. Anne’s
Jewishness was downplayed and her optimism was exaggerated and extricated from her grim forebodings. The comical side won out over the utter despair. On Friday, May 26,
1944 Anne wrote:
I feel more miserable than I have in months. Even after the break-in I didn’t feel
so utterly broken, inside and out. On the one hand, there’s the news about Mr. van
Hoeven [he was discovered to be hiding two Jews and they were all arrested], the
Jewish question (which is discussed in detail by everyone in the house), the
invasion (which is so long in coming), the awful food, the tension, the miserable
atmosphere, my disappointment in Peter. On the other hand, there’s Bep’s
engagement, the Pentecost reception, the flowers, Mr. Kugler’s birthday, cakes
and stories about cabarets, movies, and concerts. That gap, that enormous gap, is
always there. One day we are laughing at the comical side of life in hiding, and
the next day (and there are many such days), we’re frightened, and the fear,
tension and despair can be read on our faces. (p. 306). 192 Within the diary itself, then, misery, disappointment, tension, fear, and brokenness lived along side the happiness Anne felt at things like Bep’s engagement, Mr. Kugler’s birthday, and the joy of getting a piece of cake.
The Goodrich and Hackett play (1994) hit the stage to good reviews on October 6,
1955 but was soon “severely criticized in Jewish and Dutch journals” (Melnick, 1997, p. xx) because it de-Judaized Anne and universalized Jewish suffering, and the play and the diary itself still conjure up divisive scholarly attention (Graver, 1995; Flanzbaum, 1999;
Ozick, 2000; Melnick, 1997; Novick, 1999). The most extreme indictment of the way the
Diary has been represented in print and on stage and screen came from Ozick (2000), who shockingly suggested that it may have been better if “Anne Frank’s diary [had been] burned, vanished, lost—saved from a world that made of it all things, some of them true, while floating lightly over the heavier truth of named and inhabited evil” (p. 102).
There are so many versions of the Diary that Hilene Flanzbaum (1999) suggested that when speaking of Anne Frank, it would be a good idea to explain the Anne to which one is referring. There is the Anne of the first U.S. edition (Frank, 1952), the Critical
Edition (Frank, 1989), The Definitive Edition (Frank, 2001), Anne Frank: The Biography
(Muller, 1998), which was later turned into a 4-hour ABC miniseries Anne Frank: The
Whole Story, thus producing yet another Anne (2001). This is just to name a few of the representations. There is also a ballet (Lawson, 1986), concertos for strings (Foss, 2001), and various other stage and screen productions. The Goodrich and Hackett (1994) play 193 and the heavily edited first editions of the Diary are how most of the world prior to 1991
(with the publication of the first Definitive Edition in Dutch) came to know Anne Frank.19
Scholars differ in opinion on the level of optimism in the Diary before the
Hacketts got their hands on it. Novick (1999) argued that “The Diary was not twisted into
an optimistic and universalist document by the Hacketts […] or anyone else; it was such
a document, and it was that fact which commended it to Americans in the 1950s” (p.
120). Ozick (2000), on the opposite end of the spectrum, argued that the Diary’s
“reputation for uplift is, to say it plainly, nonsensical” (p. 77). The contribution of this chapter is in the exploration of how 1 teacher and 91 junior high school students constructed Anne Frank in English class through the mediated artifact of the Goodrich and Hackett play.
Constructing Anne in Hopeful Ways
Consistent with Ozick’s and Novick’s arguments, Anne Frank’s Diary stirred up hopeful narrative frames in students who read the Goodrich and Hackett play (1994). In order to maintain a hopeful stance, students enfigured Anne and emplotted her story in ways that accentuated her optimism, distorted her experiences, and even obscured material that ran counter to their hopeful narrative frame. Even after Mrs. Parker and I asked students to look at the constructed nature of the textbook’s representation of Anne and the representation within the play itself, students were not likely to relinquish the hopeful narrative frame, and 8 weeks after they finished the play, nearly every student constructed Anne Frank solely through a hopeful narrative.
19 The publication of the first English translation was 1995, but I used the 2001 edition, which contains additional material. 194 Goodrich and Hackett’s Anne
Scholars have long debated the amount of uplift in the play version of the Diary versus Anne Frank’s own words (in any version). Two representations of events in the play that are absent from the Diary were flashpoints for students’ hopeful thinking about
Anne Frank. In Act II, scene 5 of the play (near the end), Mr. Frank returned to
Amsterdam after the end of the war and met up once more with his rescuers, Miep and
Mr. Kraler. It was here that Mr. Frank uttered the words that would be so fateful in guiding students’ views of Anne’s outlook after she was captured:
It seems strange to say this, that anyone could be happy in a concentration camp.
But Anne was happy in the camp in Holland where they first took us
[Westerbork]. After two years of being shut up in these rooms, she could be
out…out in the sunshine and fresh air that she loved. (p. 567)
Obviously, these words of Mr. Frank’s could not be part of his daughter’s diary, so this enfiguring of Anne as happy in a concentration camp is clearly mediated by Mr. Frank, the Hacketts, and others responsible for the screen play. Anne was not able to speak for herself.
A fictional element that the Hacketts included in their screenplay also enfigured
Anne as hopeful in ways that went beyond the bounds of the Diary. The play ended with
Anne’s voice repeating words that had already been spoken in the play version (and which approximated the words Anne herself wrote in her diary): “In spite of everything, I still believe that people are basically good at heart” (p. 565 & p. 568). The play ended on 195 this high note with Anne being hopeful about humanity (implicitly, even after she suffered a horrible death).
Besides accentuating Anne’s hope and optimism, the play also obscured the fact of her death. The play version never said that Anne died. Mr. Frank said, “I still hoped…Yesterday I went to Rotterdam. I’d heard of a woman there…She’d been in
Belsen with Anne…I know now” (p. 568; ellipses in the original). Melnick (1997) argued that,
the deaths of Mrs. Frank and her daughters were removed so that the play would
end on a redemptive note, however illusory. Instead, Anne turns and waves
goodbye to Otto, as if she is still with us in spirit, and for the second time in as
many pages, the salvific incantation is recited as proof of Anne’s triumph over
evil. (p. 112)
Notwithstanding Novick’s (1999) claim to the contrary, the play version did seem to emplot the Diary toward a more optimistic telos than the Diary itself did. As far as the play was concerned, then, it pushed the reader to accentuate Anne’s optimism and obscured the fact that she died a horrible death.
The Textbook’s Anne
The framing of the play within the textbook advanced the hopeful and redemptive themes of liberation, the will to survive, and the invincible spirit. The material in the anthology (Applebee et al., 1994) that introduced the play included a photograph of Ben
Shahn’s painting Liberation (1945) featuring three girls swinging from ropes that were attached to a pole while beneath and behind them lay the rubble of a destroyed building. 196 This unit was titled “The Will to Survive,” and it was followed by the epigram, “There is a place in you where nothing is impossible,” attributed to Tara Singh (p. 491). The next page displayed the section head “The Invincible Spirit,” and beneath it a photograph of a
Hanukkiah (a menorah used for Hanukkah—the holiday celebrating a great miracle).
There was a three paragraph introduction to this subunit; I append an excerpt from it below:
Sometimes people find themselves caught in a situation that demands that they
rely more on their spirit than on their instincts. People who live through war, for
example, frequently find internal strengths they never knew they possessed….In
this subunit, “The Invincible Spirit,” you will meet a group who successfully hid
for over two years in Nazi-occupied Amsterdam during World War II. (p. 492)
There was also a small section that explored the war and mentioned that 6 million Jews and 5 million Gypsies, Slavs, and Poles were murdered during WWII (obviously not itself hopeful or redemptive), but most of the other textual cues, “liberation,” “invincible spirit,” “the will to survive,” and “successfully hid” pushed students in the direction of hope and in a belief that Anne and her family would survive. These unit and subunit openings effectively set up teachers and students by corralling their thoughts toward invincibility and survival, toward liberation and “a place …where nothing is impossible”
(p. 491).
The textbook also included a writing prompt about Anne being happy in a concentration camp, an idea that was advanced in the play. “Do you think she could have 197 been happy in a concentration camp?” (p. 569). This question helps make sense of
Charlotte’s chapter-opening statement about Anne frolicking in the concentration camps.
Mrs. Parker’s Anne
Mrs. Parker accentuated Anne’s invincible spirit, and this representation ended up overshadowing the fact that by the end of the play, Anne was indeed dead. After the 2003 unit was completed, I interviewed Mrs. Parker and asked her about different parts of the course. In the excerpt below, I asked her about teaching and learning the Diary.
Karen What about Anne Frank?
Mrs. Parker They, that it isn’t depressing like Night can be. She is courageous and
strong-willed.
Karen So that’s what your students think?
Mrs. Parker They, it’s funny, but they like to talk about how mischievous she is. They
latch onto the love story, too.
Karen Is it a story of an invincible spirit?
Mrs. Parker She is strong throughout, and she believes in the goodness of mankind.
She gives her mother a reassuring smile at the end.
Karen And the fact that she dies a horrible death?
Mrs. Parker Oh, I see what you are saying. It doesn’t tell the whole story. It ends
before/
Karen Well, [the play] doesn’t [end before her death]. The diary does, but in the
play we see Mr. Frank return to Amsterdam. 198 Mrs. Parker [Laughs] I seriously never thought about it. I’ve used the actual diary
before, last year. I’m optimistic, and it probably kept me from thinking
about [Anne’s death].
Karen What about students? Did they consider the Diary a happy, optimistic
Holocaust story?
Mrs. Parker I never thought about it, but yes, they probably did. I’ll have to look at it
again.
Mrs. Parker began by asserting that the play wasn’t depressing to students like Night
(Wiesel, 1982) was. Anne’s courage and strong will, her belief in the “goodness of mankind,” and her love interest in Peter were important parts of her story in Mrs.
Parker’s eyes. She even chuckled when she realized that her own optimism in life probably kept her from dwelling on (or even recognizing) that Anne died a horrible death between the lines of the play.
Mrs. Parker chose the play version of the Diary because it was less sexually explicit. She explained to me that in 2002, she asked her students to buy the 1952 edition of the Diary, but many of the students couldn’t find it and bought the newer Definitive
Edition (2001) instead. This ended up being problematic because in “her newest version, it talks about how [Anne] wanted to kiss one of her girlfriends and how she was questioning her sexuality. So, of course, 8th grade kids latched onto that real quick and
started talking about that.” Mrs. Parker went on to say that students with the Definitive
Edition (2001) could be found huddled in corners of the room with those unfortunate 199 enough to have found the 1952 edition, pointing out the bowdlerized sections and tittering. She said,
I decided that I would probably have these kids read the play because it focuses
more on what it was like to be in hiding, and it takes the selections from her diary
and they made it into a play. So some of the stuff that I thought they probably
would focus more on, was left off.
Mrs. Parker surmised a one-to-one relationship between the versions, with the exception of the sexual references. In trying to rectify a problem with the Definitive Edition—Anne wanting to touch Jaque’s breasts, for instance (2001, p. 162)—Mrs. Parker chose the
Goodrich and Hackett (1994) version, because “it focuses more on what it was like to be in hiding” as opposed to what Anne actually wrote.
Students’ Constructions of Anne Frank
As in the other representations of Anne discussed thus far, students’ constructions tended to accentuate Anne’s hopefulness, and this often ended up having the effect of distorting or obscuring the reality of the Holocaust. The distortions and obfuscations became necessary in the effort to accentuate her optimism. I have separated the data below into the categories of 1) accentuating hope, and 2) distortions and obfuscations, though they usually came in a constellation.
Accentuating hope. Like the Goodrich and Hackett play (1994), the textbook
Anne, and Mrs. Parker’s own enfiguring of Anne, students created a version of Anne that accentuated her hope and optimism despite their recognition of the overwhelmingly negative aspects of the Holocaust. As Mrs. Parker introduced the play in 2004, she asked 200 students to consider the way the textbook had packaged the play (part of our plan for students to critically examine the text). She went over the introductory material aloud with them. When she asked them why a Holocaust play would be placed in a unit about
“The Invincible Spirit,” Evangeline said, “Because it is a story about survival.” Sandy said, “The Jews eventually survived. Some of them did.” Yet another student, Jason, offered, “I read it before, and I know how optimistic she is. She wanted to survive.”
Several students made comments similar to the following one by Zoe: “I think they are trying to show the hopeful side of the Holocaust. And then there is the not so hopeful side.” In the next bell, Brooke, giving evidence from the Diary, believed that the play was in the section entitled “The Invincible Spirit” because it was a love story:
I read [the Diary] three times already, and it is optimistic. I really like it because
it’s a love story, and she sneaks up to talk to Peter, and she kisses him. It’s, you
know, he brought so much love into her life. And I started writing my own diary,
to be like Anne.
Brooke read Anne through the narrative frame of a love story, and identified with her so clearly that she read it several times and wanted to be like her. Brooke wasn’t alone in this portrayal of the story. Both boys and girls thought of the Diary as a love story (see
Florence’s paper in Appendix 7-A for an interesting take on the love story motif).
During a group exercise, Brooke again enfigured a hopeful Anne, this time by expurgating material from the Definitive Edition (2001) that didn’t fit her thesis—that
Anne Frank was optimistic. 201 Brooke What kind of girl is Anne Frank? And what are her most noticeable
characteristics?
Candace She is very energetic.
Brooke Optimistic.
Carl Positive.
Brooke Okay. [Writing this down] She’s an optimist who loves talking. Where’s
our support?
[….]
Brooke Here it is! [She reads] “It’s utterly impossible for me to build my life on a
foundation of chaos…” blah, blah, blah, no, here it is “…ideals, dreams
and cherished hopes rise within us, only to be crushed.” blah, blah, blah,
“…I still believe, in spite of everything, that people are truly good at
heart” (p. 333). That’s it. That’s the one. Someone else write that down.
While trying to find the magical incantation that supersedes all other statements
Anne Frank made in the Diary, Brooke drowned out with “blah, blah, blah” the contradictory material. She, and the writers of the play for that matter, focused on
“people are basically good at heart” rather than on hopes crushed, a “foundation of chaos,” a “wilderness” with “approaching thunder that, one day, will destroy us too” ( p.
333).
Distortions. Students knew about the deplorable conditions at concentration camps, yet many still chose to attribute Anne with a positive mental state while she was at Auschwitz. At the end of the play in both 2003 and 2004, Mrs. Parker’s students 202 answered a question at the end of the play in the textbook: “Do you think she could have been happy in a concentration camp?” (p. 569). The question positioned students to answer in a particular way because to even question the question would give the appearance of contradicting Anne’s own father, Otto Frank, who, after all, was arguably in the best position to know. All questions position the responders in similar ways, with power, privilege, assumptions built in, but this question obviously did so.
One student, Renate, wrote:
In the book Night which we are reading now, the main character is happy at
Auschwitz. Anne was probably happy in the same way. Happy her mom was with
her and to be out in the fresh air. To see the sun rise and sun set again.
Renate was referring to the part of Night (1982), which she was then reading for homework, when Elie says, “First impression: [Auschwitz] was better than Birkenau” (p.
38). In the three weeks Elie spent at Auschwitz, he didn’t have to work, was fed soup and a daily ration of bread, took a nap once in the sun, and rested most afternoons. All of these things were good, considering. On the other hand, Elie also was forced to shower and then stand “shivering in the night air” (p. 38), had to run to a new block in the nude and sleep naked because his new “outfit” didn’t arrive until the following day, and had his name taken away and the number A-7713 tattooed on his arm. Like Elie, however,
Anne was happy at Auschwitz, according to Renate. She accentuated happiness for both
Anne and Elie.
In the Goodrich and Hackett (1994) play, Mr. Frank said that Anne was happy at the transit camp, not at Auschwitz. In the lived world, he never saw Anne after they were 203 initially separated on the train platform at Auschwitz (Muller, 1998). Renate made the leap here that resulted in the distortion of Anne’s purported happiness in Westerbork to her happiness in Auschwitz.
Others explicitly made this leap, and the resulting distortion, as well. For instance,
Simon offered: “Anne was happy at Auschwitz because she loved to be up and running around and working. In Auschwitz, you get to work every day and you get to be awake.”
Simon substituted Otto Frank’s words “camp in Holland” and the textbook’s words
“concentration camp” with the particular camp “Auschwitz,” but he created a version of
Auschwitz that few would recognize. Running around, doing work, and staying awake did not have the same flavor coming from Simon as they did coming from Primo Levi in
Survival in Auschwitz (1996) who spoke of toiling “the whole day in the wind, with the temperature below freezing, wearing only a shirt, underpants, cloth jacket and trousers, and in one’s body nothing but weakness, hunger and knowledge of the end drawing nearer” (p. 112-113).
Besides making unfounded mental leaps between Westerbork and Auschwitz and making leaps of another sort regarding what work at Auschwitz would be like, students created even more profound distortions. Lenore, who was a bright young lady, said,
“Anne was probably happy just to get out of the attic. She loved nature and the outdoors.
Being outside made her overjoyed even if she was being tortured and abused.” I wasn’t able to ask her about the statement. My guess is that she was just trying to fit two pieces of information she had together: Otto Frank said Anne was happy in the camp and concentration camps are places of abuse and torture. The juxtaposition of being 204 overjoyed while being tortured didn’t stop her. And she wasn’t alone. Bax said, “She loved fresh air, so she liked that except for the stench of the crematories.” The incongruity here would be amusing if the subject matter weren’t so grave.
In 2004, the answers to the question showed similarities to those in 2003. Every last one of the students in the study explained that Anne would have been happy (to be outside, to breathe fresh air, to have more room, to get to do physical work, to have interesting people to talk to). As in 2003, students conflated “concentration camp” (from the question) with “Auschwitz”:
Anne was happy in Auschwitz because now she could be outside. She loved
nature and being able to do as she pleased. Auschwitz let her be outside and enjoy
nature without being cramped up. (Zoe)
If a particular concentration camp was named, the name was Auschwitz, even though
Anne was also sent to Westerbork and Bergen-Belsen. Crystal didn’t elide distinctions between Westerbork, Auschwitz, and Bergen-Belsen, but she maintained the “happy
Anne:”
She really loved the outdoors and not being cooped up in a house or attic so she’d
like it because there’s a lot of open space, lots of things to do, and she can run
around and be happy.
Clearly, students thought that just leaving the annex would be a welcome relief, and this kind of interpretation is understandable. What is not so easy to understand is that students twisted around what they knew about the camps in order to make Otto Frank’s statement true. In Crystal’s example above, for instance, it seems reasonable to expect Anne to feel 205 some release from her confinement, but Crystal’s version of a concentration camp sounded more like summer camp (“lots of open space, lots of things to do”). Sam wrote,
“For 2 years she dreamed of being free and she was free once she left the annex and moved in to the concentration camp.” The association of freedom with a concentration camp is another clearly nonsensical.
These students were at times adept at answering questions that were true to the text, something that had been stressed throughout their schooling and a skill that was assessed on proficiency tests in the state. After all, the character Otto Frank in the
Goodrich and Hackett (1994) play did say, “After two years of being shut up in these rooms, [Anne] could be out…out in the sunshine and the fresh air that she loved” (p.
567).The unchallenged authority of “text” is a profound call for teaching critical literacy skills in the elementary grades (S.R. Jones, personal communication, April 13, 2005). An unswerving belief in the veracity of text can be downright dangerous to democracy, as
Nazi propaganda exemplifies; perhaps a more insidious practice, because it is less blatant, is textual mis-representation of lived worlds which may lead to unconscious acceptance of ideology: Otto Frank’s desire to craft Anne’s story into a conciliatory one and the
Goodrich and Hackett (1994) play that is widely anthologized and is consumed as if it were Anne’s own words. All stories are constructed toward a chosen course, so it would seem that teaching students to perceive how a text corrals meaning making in a particular direction and then to consider the causes and effects of that particular construction would be a necessary skills for the maintenance of democracy. 206 Obscuring the Nazi Death Machine and Anne’s Own Death
Distortions led to odd juxtapositions and simplifications related to Anne’s experiences. Obscuring or obfuscating particular people or events is another way that students were able to maintain their hopeful narrative frames.
Obscuring the Nazi death machine. As the data from Mrs. Parker’s opening discussion in 2004 about the Diary showed (under the earlier subsection “Accentuating hope”), students came to the play replete with a hopeful version of Anne. Obscured within their statements are faint hints of Nazi terror; after all, Anne was trying to survive something, yet the evil went unnamed throughout the beginning of the discussion. Not being able to contain myself, I interrupted:
Karen What if I were the textbook author, and I called this section “The
Depravity of the Nazis,” “The horror”?
Leila It is more about Anne Frank. It’s not about like Hitler.
Karen Okay.
Ted Yeah. The story itself makes it fit better in the invincible spirit.
Karen Was her spirit invincible in the end?
Nebula She doesn’t survive.
Geoffrey The story isn’t about the Nazis.
Karen Why are they in hiding?
Geoffrey Well, because of Hitler, but he isn’t part of this story, so it fits in the
invincible spirit. 207 A student who gave himself the pseudonym “Beef” apparently sensed that I was beaten.
He said, victoriously, “If it were about Hitler, you would have to be outside with them, not on the inside.” Students erupted in agreement.
Every student who talked was resistant to embracing “my” critical perspective, and as you can see, I was pushing pretty hard. About half of the class had read some version of the diary, and even those who had not were familiar with her story.20 When I
suggested that the section be titled “The Depravity of Man,” they were sure that the story
was not about “Hitler.” In fact, Beef explained that it could not possibly be about Hitler
because the play took place inside, and the Nazis (including Hitler) remained outside.
Students were not willing or able to look at the individual story of Anne Frank and at the
collective story of Jews caught in the Nazi death machine at the same time. In fact,
students rarely referred to perpetrators in any way other than through the individual
person of Hitler, and they thought he did not belong in this “hopeful” Holocaust story at
all. They constructed the story as one of survival against an unnamed and uninhabited
evil (Ozick, 2000). As Beef said, Hitler remained on the outside where he didn’t need to
be factored into the story.
Another example of this obfuscation of the horror is evident in students’
responses to a writing prompt before they began reading in 2003: “What would be the
most difficult thing about living in hiding?” Nearly all of the students wrote about how
hard it would be to stay quiet all day long. Many complained that they would go crazy if
20 The day before they began reading the Diary, they filled out a chart which asked them (among other things) the names of notable figures from the 1940s. Anne Frank and Adolf Hitler made it onto every group’s list; in some cases, they were the only names listed. 208 they ever found themselves in such tight quarters, with the prospect of annoying people adding to the stress. Some worried about bathroom privileges, others about food, and still others about not being able to go outside. Kylie wrote,
It would be hard to be quiet and to be with my sister and my parents for so long
with no chance for a break. It’s like being a captive. I praise Anne and these
survivors of this terrible event for they must have been stronger than I ever will
be.
The writing prompt that the book offered, and that Mrs. Parker asked them to respond to, required them to imaginatively consider how they would fare in a situation like Anne’s, except the prompt did not mention the quickly-approaching Nazi terror or the particularity of its focus—Jews—so it caused students to at once identify with this particular girl, Anne Frank, but at the same time universalize her by suggesting that they would be able to approximate her feelings. Like casting the play in an “invincible” light, the prompt eviscerated Anne from the menacing situation in Amsterdam. It is not surprising that Kylie, after reading the chapter openers, might think that Anne would survive. It is not surprising that she would concentrate on survival instead of on destruction, even though the “invincible” spirits of two out of every three Jews in Europe were snuffed out, even though destruction surely won out when it came to the Jews in
Europe. Kylie does mention the “terrible event,” but it goes unnamed.
Obscuring Anne’s own death. The tendency toward hopeful readings of Anne seriously called into question or effectively erased her death from minds of students.
Continuing from Kylie’s journal entry above, she easily understood what the absence of 209 liberty and privacy might feel like, but in this excerpt she went further to mention “Anne and these survivors of this event” and how they must have been very strong. She may have meant the survivors of the Holocaust in general, or she could have meant those in the secret annex who survived through hiding. If the latter case is the correct reading of her statement, then her use of “these survivors” is painfully wrong since only one annex inhabitant, Otto Frank, survived the Nazi death machine.
Just as Mrs. Parker lost sight of the fact the Anne Frank actually died in the
Holocaust, one of Mrs. Parker’s students also had difficulty remembering her death as well. In 2003, I was only able to talk to one student about Anne Frank, and the interview took place 6 weeks after the unit was finished (and 11 weeks after he read the play in class).
Karen So what did you think of Anne Frank?
James She’s a trouble-maker. I’d have trouble living with her that long.
Karen Okay, she’s childish at times. How else would you describe her?
James Optimistic, never giving up, never giving in.
Karen Okay, optimistic, hmmm. What happens at the end of the play?
James They are discovered.
Karen And?
James That’s it, I think.
Karen Does she live?
James Yeah.
Karen Yeah? 210 James Wait, nnnn no. Wait, we wouldn’t have her diary. No, no, she dies. I
remember. Miep gives the dad the diary at the end when she is dead.
Karen Okay, she dies.
[…]
Karen What do you think the message of the play is?
James [nothing]
Karen Maybe that’s too hard. It’s been a while since you read it.
James No, no. I’m just thinking. I’d have to say that the theme is keeping faith
and hope alive.
Karen Okay. Because faith and hope helped Anne?
James To survive. They help you survive.
This data must be put into context; it is from only one student out of the 46 in the study in 2003. Limited as it is, it does reinforce statements from Mrs. Parker. They both read an Anne Frank who was strong and optimistic. They both nearly “forgot” that Anne died in the end, preferring to dwell on the lighter aspects of the play. Neither of them mentioned Nazis or the horror Anne felt. This is a reading that the textbook and the play advanced, and one that was common at Adams in 2003 and 2004. The theme of the play, according to James, was that faith and hope “help you survive.” This theme fits with theme of the unit “The Will to Survive,” and has the redemptive tone Melnick (1997) and
Novick (1999) wrote about. James made an interesting shift to a pronoun at the end of the dialogue. At first he was speaking of Anne, but then he shifted to “you,” by this he likely meant “people,” not me in particular. The shift helped to relieve some of the incongruity 211 between the statement that hope and faith helped Anne “to survive” and the obvious and just-stated fact that she did indeed die.
Challenging the Hopeful Narrative Frame
Approaching the play in a critical way, Mrs. Parker and I wanted students to come to see how the Holocaust was produced and consumed in the classroom. We had serious issues to face, especially the distortions that students created in order to maintain their belief in an Anne who would remain hopeful in the concentration camps (fresh air/stench of crematories; overjoyed/being tortured). As you will recall, my first attempts were rebuffed by students like Beef as I tried to encourage them to think of the Diary through a narrative frame focused upon the depravity of man rather than “The Invincible Spirit.”
Viewing the Movie
We decided to show students the final chapter of Anne Frank’s life, to make real the Nazi terror and her death and to lay to rest the idea that she would be happy in
Auschwitz. I showed the students excerpts from the DVD Anne Frank: The Whole Story
(2001) beginning with the Franks’ deportation from Westerbork, following them to
Auschwitz, and then following Anne and Margot to Bergen-Belsen, where they both died
(probably of typhus) shortly before liberation. The DVD showed horrifying scenes of the journey by train from Westerbork, Anne’s separation from her father on the train platform at Auschwitz, the intake process at Auschwitz (e.g. getting a number, undressing, having her hair cut off), life and death at Auschwitz, and finally the barbarous conditions of Bergen-Belsen. 212 The students were completely silent while they watched. The mood in the room was definitely somber, something I hadn’t heretofore witnessed. When I finished showing them the DVD (about 15 minutes of excerpts), I began the following discussion.
Karen Let’s talk about Anne’s experiences in the concentration camps.
Ted It’s awful.
Frank Thanks a lot. You ruined it for us!
Annabelle Um, I still think she thought people were good.
Karen Why? Why do you think that?
Annabelle I don’t know.
Frank I don’t think any human can go through that and still remain optimistic.
Karen Do you think she was happy in the concentration camps? We talked about
this before when you answered that question. Do you remember?
Class [About half of the class raised their hands to say they thought Anne was
happy.]
Nebula I think she was happy because she was still with Margot, but I don’t think
she was really happy.
Leila She was happy because she was outside.
Karen Do you think she was happy being outside in Bergen-Belsen?
Leila Not after a while, I guess.
Annabelle Maybe Mr. Frank just wants to remember Anne in a happy way. He
doesn’t want to think about her [not happy].
Frank It’s an intentional delusion. 213 Sydney He probably knew that she wasn’t going to be like happy in the
concentration camp. He just wanted to remember her as being happy. A
happy person.
[….]
Karen Why would the playwrights end the play so optimistically?
Frank To make people want to read it. To make people want to buy tickets to see
it.
After Ted commented on how the DVD portrayed Anne’s life in the camps, Frank jokingly admonished me for “ruining it” for them. Of course, that’s what I had in mind the whole time, so I was glad to hear it. Intractable as yet, three girls—Annabelle,
Nebula, and Leila—were not willing to completely give up on Anne’s happiness in the concentration camps, but some interesting reasoning eventually emerged, beginning with
Annabelle, who argued that Mr. Frank perhaps said Anne was happy in order to protect himself. The student Frank concurred with her by calling it an “intentional delusion,” and
Sydney restated what both Annabelle and Frank already said. Frank then offered another reason: the playwrights wanted to sell tickets, and that’s why they ended it optimistically.
At last, the students were beginning to think about the play as being a construction other than Anne’s. Of course, there was no way to tell what those who were silent were thinking.
Comparing Versions of the Diary
The next step we took was to have students compare the play to the Definitive
Edition (2001) to give students the opportunity to find the distortions and obfuscations in 214 the play. I brought in copies of a few pages of The Definitive Edition (2001) so all the students could see the kinds of transformations that were made between what Anne Frank had actually written and what the Hacketts had attributed her with saying.21 Students
easily pointed out differences between the two versions: “people are basically good at
heart” was taken out of context and, as in the example below, Anne’s statements about particular Jewish suffering were turned into statements of universal suffering. She wrote in the Definitive Edition (2001):
To be honest, I can’t understand how the Dutch, a nation of good, honest, upright
people, can sit in judgment on us the way they do. On us—the most oppressed,
unfortunate and pitiable people in the world. (Frank, 2001, p. 304)
This is taken from a long section about the increasing antisemitism in Holland since the
Franks began hiding in the secret annex. She wonders how anyone “regardless of whether they’re Jews or Christians, [could] remain silent in the face of German pressure” (p. 303).
In the hands of the Hacketts, however, the uniqueness of the suffering was changed:
“We’re not the only people that’ve had to suffer. There’ve always been people that’ve had to…sometimes one race…sometimes another…and yet…” (Goodrich & Hackett,
1994, p. 565; ellipses are from the original). Upon working with this kind of evidence, students like Florence said, “So the play guys cheated, tried to misrepresent [Anne].”
Others chose not to evaluate the intentions of the playwrights, but noticed the differences between versions and thought that the Definitive Edition (2001) was more trustworthy
21 By only copying a few pages that actually contained salient differences from the play version I at once made the differences stand out in relief, and unintentionally, highlighted the supreme authority of what I considered the “right” text. 215 because “it had her actual words.” Mrs. Parker and I also asked students to compare the endings of the play and the Definitive Edition (2001). Many students saw how Anne’s diary ended, obviously, before her death, and therefore the end of the play was a construction other than Anne’s own. One student said, “Mr. Frank wanted to end it hopefully, all hopeful, because then that seemed to give Anne more dignity.” I hadn’t ever thought of the hopeful ending as being more dignified for Anne, but I guess it was, in a way. Mr. Frank’s (or the Hackett’s) version shows an Anne that couldn’t be trodden down by the worst that the Nazis had to offer, that is, trodden down emotionally or spiritually, because she was murdered.
So it seemed that at least in 2004 students weren’t leaving with the idea that Anne was frolicking in Bergen-Belsen, and they at least began to see that the play was not always faithful to Anne’s own words. I was beginning to feel that Mrs. Parker and I had indeed helped students weigh evidence and use skills of critical literacy.
Writing about the Magical Incantation
Eight of the 45 participants in 2004 chose to write a persuasive paper on why the playwrights ended The Diary of Anne Frank (Goodrich & Hackett, 1994) with the quotation, “In spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart” (p.
568). Below I have included excerpts from two papers (see Appendix 7-A for the full papers). The excerpt from Ted’s paper shows thinking that was not discussed in class at all.
They wanted to make Anne this heroic, amazing, optimistic person. She seems
almost like a super human. She apologized to her mother for the way she’d been 216 treating her. She realizes she has been rude to everybody. Super-Anne then stays
optimistic even in death camps and believes everyone is good at heart. Anne
though in real life was not a super human.
Ted described how the playwrights constructed Anne as a superhero, while at the same time they tied up all the lose threads of the play: Anne had a change of heart about her treatment of her mother; she came to the awareness that she was rude to everyone; she donned her cape and became Super-Anne “even in death camps,” never flinching from her appraisal that everybody was good at heart. He ended with the sobering thought that
Anne was just a little girl and not super human at all. Florence focused her attention in other areas. In the excerpt below, she argued that Anne concentrated on Peter as a love interest in order to take her mind off of her terrible situation.
The entire quote found on page 333 [of the Definitive Edition (2001)] is, “In spite
of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart. I simply can’t
build up my hopes on a foundation consisting of confusion, misery, and death. I
see the world gradually being turned into a wilderness. I hear the ever
approaching thunder, which will destroy us too.” Anne Frank wrote those words a
week before her last entry. The first portion, the optimistic one, was the world she
wants to live in. The second, depressing portion is the world she was living in.
For Anne it was easier for her to go off in her imaginary world than to live
in constant fear of being found. She kept her spirits up anticipating her visits with
Peter. She wonders if Peter is going to fall in love with her. She quotes Margot 217 who is sad that she doesn’t have someone special to love. She finally gets to kiss
him, but she is still in the secret annex.
I found this an interesting argument because so many students—as I illustrated before with the quotation from Brooke—thought of the play in terms of a love story, and here Florence argued that perhaps the love story was just a fantasy Anne played out to escape her fear (and boredom). Florence showed dexterity in formulating an argument about the quotation. She argued that it was ripped from its context, and that severing the optimism and pessimism ended up, misrepresenting Anne.
What did students learn?
Eight weeks later in the quarter, students’ answers to a question on the midterm exam about Anne Frank showed that they were once again reading her solely through a narrative that was hopeful. Mrs. Parker included one question about Anne Frank, which asked students to identify a quotation and explain why it is memorable: “In spite of everything, I still believe people are basically good at heart.” All but 6 of the 45 participants correctly attributed it to Anne Frank, but 4 of those 6 participants knew that the quotation was related to the play, but thought that the words themselves had been incorrectly attributed to Anne Frank in the play version of the Diary. For example,
Skittles wrote, “This quote can be argued that she may not have said this, and that’s one reason it is meaningful. It means Anne thinks that Germans are still good in spite of everything they did.” Similarly, Frank said, “This is a false quote attributed to Anne
Frank.” Only three students, including Ted, Florence, and Tess (two of whom wrote entire papers about the quotation) were able to explain that it was adapted from the Diary, 218 inserted into the play out of its original context, and repeated at the end of the play with the effect of having the play finish on an optimistic note. For example, Florence wrote:
Anne Frank wrote these words in her diary. In the play they were used out of
context to give it more optimism. She wrote it when she was still optimistic, in
hiding, not when she was dying in a concentration camp. It means she once
thought that people were good, but it isn’t necessarily what she would have said if
she lived.
I was very disappointed to read the other responses. They were all quite different, but all resorted to distortion. Beef wrote,
Anne Frank is speaking. The quote means that no matter how mean people are on
the outside, she believes that they’re really kind on the inside. It is meaningful
because she said this after she was killed at a concentration camp, but she didn’t
hate the Nazis.
Beef thought Anne was either fictional or apparitional and could therefore speak from beyond the grave. He missed the larger point that Anne didn’t say this at all after she was killed; the play just made it appear that way. Beef was right back to accentuating her happiness and obscuring her death. One further illustration shows how the students had come full circle in their “critical consciousness.” Brooke wrote,
Anne Frank is speaking. This quote meant that even though the Nazis had done so
many horrible things, she believed it was all for the good of something and wasn’t
their fault. It is meaningful because it shows how much good, love, forgiveness,
and optimism Anne possesses. 219 So, for most of these students, they ended where they started: Anne Frank’s story was a love story that resoundingly spoke of her Super-Anne character trait of optimism. The evil of the time was unnamed, and “good, love, forgiveness, and optimism” were accentuated.
Summary
Anne Frank’s diary has had many incarnations, at least one of which has led to intense scholarly debate: the Goodrich and Hackett play, which is the version that students at Adams read in 2003 and 2004. Students responded to The Diary of Anne
Frank (Goodrich & Hackett, 1994) through a narrative frame of hope. Instead of challenging the frame of hope when they were aware of contrary evidence, students went to great lengths to maintain hopefulness by distorting historical reality: obscuring the
Nazi reign of terror and Anne’s own destruction. Students were adept at the skill of referring to the text to support their answers (S.R. Jones, personal communication, April
13), but this comprehension strategy did not poise students to explore texts as representations or themselves as text consumers. Attempts to raise students’ awareness about the constructed nature of Anne in the play either didn’t work or were short lived.
Only three students expressed a conception of a “constructed Anne” in a test 8 weeks after they read the play and engaged in the critical literacy exercises that Mrs. Parker and
I introduced to the class. 220
Chapter 8
Enfiguring Hitler, Asking Questions, Learning Lessons
Not trying to understand the perpetrators in human terms would make impossible…any history of Holocaust perpetrators that sought to go beyond one-dimensional caricature.
~Browning, Ordinary Men (1992, p. xiv-xx)
For against the background of the Holocaust, where even slight missteps in understanding loom large, the effects of mischievous questions about that event—not outright
falsifications, but subtler, more angular shifts—take on larger proportions.
Lang, Post-Holocaust Dialogues (2005, p. 86)
Here there is no why.
Levi, Survival in Auschwitz (1996, p. 25)
Thus far, I have described how the Holocaust literature units at Adams (2003,
2004) and River Hill were enacted from and amidst narrative frames stemming from their
schools and larger communities; from teacher views of tolerance, religion, and history; 221 and from student views of tolerance (chapters 4 and 5). In chapter 6, I showed how religiously motivated narrative frames directed student interpretations of Night (Wiesel,
1982), Elie, Jews in general, and the events of the Holocaust—sometimes with ominous implications for Jews. Christian narratives were used as tools by most students to describe the Holocaust in terms of the cycle of sin and redemption, which happens throughout history and which ultimately ends with the return of Christ. Chapter 7 explored how the Goodrich and Hackett play (1994) and the students framed Anne
Frank’s Diary through hopeful narratives that excised the war against the Jews and even
Anne’s own death. These “narrative simplifications” (Barton, 1996) caused students to distort the facts in favor of their prevailing narrative frames, a double narrative cocktail of “individual achievement and motivations” and “freedom and progress” (Barton &
Levstik, 2004).
In this final findings chapter, I explore three different elements relating to students’ narrative framing of the Holocaust that were consistent across units. All three of these elements worked to help students maintain a belief in progress, in which the rupture in the historical fabric that was the Holocaust, had been overcome. This aided a return to the road of progress, a significant U.S. narrative (Barton & Levstik, 2004). First, students enfigured Hitler as the sole, and demonic, perpetrator of the Holocaust, such that other perpetrators were implicitly exonerated and Hitler’s actions were not considered as decisions he made, but rather as inscrutable works of Satan. Next, I examine two
“mischievous questions” (Lang, 2005) students repeatedly asked that, when deconstructed, show particular ways in which students enfigured Jews: Why didn’t they 222 escape? and Why didn’t they resist? Finally, I assay the substance of the lessons students said they learned because an element of narrative framing is the teleological focus of emplotment (Ricoeur, 1984, 1988; White, 1992). With each one of these three elements of narrative framing, I examine its impact on Holocaust construction in the classroom.
Enfiguring Hitler
Hitler as the Sole Perpetrator
Despite stark differences between Adams and River Hill, at both places students enfigured Hitler as the sole perpetrator of the Holocaust. In Chapter 4, I discussed Mrs.
Parker’s view of Hitler based upon one classroom discussion of why he hated Jews. She thought Hitler made a plan, at some point in time, to exterminate European Jewry, and she credited him with pulling off the Holocaust almost single-handedly (“Hitler hated
Jews, and he would stop at nothing to see them dead”) (Figure 8.1). This monolithic enfiguring also showed up in the students’ thinking, just as it had in Levstik’s (1986) study of 6th graders who read history through the eyes of individual historical actors and
in Barton’s (1997) study of 4th and 5th graders, in which students represented the past as
occurring solely through the actions and intentions of individuals. In an interview with
Lenore, from the same interview I used in Chapter 6, she explained Hitler’s role in the
Holocaust this way:
I think Hitler was responsible but he may have gotten help from, like he may have
been a work of the devil. But I believe that he really was a horrible man, and that
he did the majority of it. 223
Figure 8.1 Adolf Hitler at a rally in Germany. (Rick, Adams, 2004)
To Lenore, Hitler and the devil shared responsibility for the Holocaust. This idea of
demonization is a significant enfiguring of Hitler and will be discussed in the section
below, “Hitler the Demon.” She went on to imagine a German citizenry that was completely in the dark as far as awareness of the Holocaust.
Lenore It’s just like that [Hitler] could cause all of this. And it is amazing how
[German citizens] didn’t know. The people of Germany, they didn’t know
what was happening to the Jews because the Jews, they were in, they were
enclosed in camps. People did not know what was happening to them.
Karen So no one knew?
Lenore It is kind of interesting how when all of this was going on they weren’t
aware of it.
Karen What do you think the Church did during this time?
Lenore I think they kept their faith.
Karen Hmmm. What other countries besides Germany were involved? 224 Lenore Poland, but mostly just Germany.
Lenore concentrated on Hitler/the Devil as the perpetrator of the Holocaust.
At River Hill, Ms. France never referred to Hitler in a monolithic sense, yet her students also spoke and wrote of Hitler as being the perpetrator of the Holocaust. In an interview with me, Jerome (River Hill) explained his view of Hitler as the sole perpetrator:
I think there was a Holocaust because of one man, and that was Hitler, like how
cruel he was. Like how he was actually willing to kill one whole nation just
because they weren’t German blood.
According to Jerome, one cruel man’s desire to “kill one whole nation” was sufficient explanation for the destruction of European Jewry. Jerome’s view of Hitler included not only the design for genocide, but put the gun in Hitler’s own hand, so to speak. He was not alone in this belief; twelve other study participants at River Hill, who studied the
Holocaust in their social studies class as well, frequently used “Hitler” to signify the evil force bent on extermination of the Jews. In another example, Keniya (River Hill) claimed the following during the unit ending seminar:
Hitler came in and then he was showing, basically, he changed everybody mind,
like about the Aryans and the most popular race. And then he took over; he started
his evil plan of exterminating the Jews. He wouldn’t kill them at first. He would
just move them out and put them in concentration camps and then he started
killing them off. 225 In response to a picture prompt that Ms. France gave the class of a neatly dug trench that served as a mass grave, Mandie (River Hill) wrote: “Hitler realized he was running out of space to put the Jews (dead), so he dug holes like this one and the Jews fell in the hole and piled on top of each other.”
In Mrs. Parker’s, Lenore’s, Jerome’s, Keniya’s, and Mandie’s cases, their beliefs that Hitler “did the majority of it,” was “willing to kill,” “started killing them off,” or even “dug holes” had the effect of enfiguring Hitler as the sole perpetrator. Barton and
Levstik (2004) argue that concentrating on individual motivations and actions “leaves students ill equipped to understand institutional racism and other forms of discrimination today” (p. 157), and this perhaps worked to exonerate the other perpetrators, at least implicitly. Moreover, since both Mrs. Parker and Ms. France hoped that students would learn tolerance for difference, this enfiguring of Hitler constrained exploration of institutional racism within the history of the Holocaust, even though the students at River
Hill had a well-developed sense of a collective past and institutional racism, as and
Phelan (1998) explained that African Americans were more likely to have. This conceptual understanding did not seem to transfer to the Holocaust. I doubt that these 4 students, and the other 28 from all three units who made similar statements about Hitler, thought that he single-handedly committed the atrocities of the Holocaust, but this simplification and distortion led to an enfiguring of Hitler as the perpetrator who acted within their narrative simplification of the Holocaust.
To be sure, not everyone always referred to Hitler in this monolithic way. Some students mentioned other perpetrators such as Himmler, Goebbels, the SS, France, kapos, 226 and Nazis. For example, Fish (Adams, 2003), speaking about Himmler in an interview with me said:
Himmler was fueled by his utter disregard for humanity. I mean he says they must
be honest and decent and then turns around and says that he doesn’t care if 10,000
Russian women lost their lives. What an egomaniac [speaking of Himmler’s
speech to the Schutzstaffel officers at Poznan on October 4, 1943].
Fish explained to me that Himmler shared at least half of the blame with Hitler, and he pointed to the internal inconsistency in the SS being “honest and decent” while not giving a second thought if 10,000 Russian women died building tank ditches for the Germans.
Views like Fish’s were slightly more robust than the views of those who blamed only
Hitler.
Hitler the Demon
Whether or not students openly referred to Hitler as the perpetrator of the
Holocaust, they generally held essentializing views about his personality, as might be expected of U.S. children describing historical figures. To my participants, Hitler was: “a genius,” “a grinch,” “sick,” “mean,” “cruel,” “insane,” “psycho,” and “demonic.”
In an uncharacteristic, and perhaps tongue-in-cheek comment from Frank
(Adams, 2004), he explained to his small group that “God created Hitler and made him evil, so the Holocaust is actually God’s fault.” His group members were flabbergasted by
Frank’s comment and argued in return that God could not create evil. They then spent 30 minutes discussing where evil came from, if not from God. Emma had the last turn to speak before the bell, and she said: “It doesn’t matter. Hitler was evil. That’s all we need 227 to know.” While Frank’s view pinned the Holocaust on God, but it stills took the question of responsibility for the Holocaust out of the earthly realm.
We have already looked at Lenore’s comments about Hitler earlier, in which she said the devil worked through him, but he still “did the majority of it.” Students at River
Hill had similar things to say about Hitler’s spiritual condition. Kate said, “Hitler is insane. He is a demon.” Franklin said, “Devil had a hold of him.” Pryor explained Hitler in an interview with me: “He got the devil in him. How he just keep on killing people and get more people to kill for him?” All of these students believed that Satan inhabited the body of Hitler. Within the unit-ending seminar at River Hill, the first bell class came to discuss Hitler in a way that raised the twin issues of Hitler as the sole perpetrator and
Hitler as demonic.
Shelaina No one boy, just by hisself gonna do that.
Myron You possessed you can. If you have a whirlwind behind you, you got to
make some goal or something.
Shelaina What?
Erica That makes sense because people couldn’t do all that. Not all that.
Roderick People did slavery.
Before the excerpt above, the students were talking about why Hitler hated Jews so much.
Some students mentioned that Hitler was beaten as a child. That’s when Shelaina began
(above) by saying that Hitler could not have perpetrated the Holocaust by himself.
Myron’s explanation for how one person could be the sole perpetrator was if the supernatural force of the devil animated him, and he compared, I think, this animating 228 force to a whirlwind—capable of stirring up a lot of trouble. I wish I could have asked him to explain what he meant, but Ms. France wouldn’t let him be interviewed because he hadn’t finished all of his work. The whirlwind could also refer to the biblical passage when Elijah was taken up to heaven, in which case the whirlwind would stand for God.
Erica agreed with Shelaina that one man couldn’t do all that, and with Myron who said one man could do it if he were possessed.
Some students didn’t think Hitler was possessed, but they still characterized him as being evil. During a small group discussion of Hitler, the group comprised of Emma,
Frank, Annabelle, Rick, Claire (Adams, 2004) said, “We think Hitler was unmerciful, cruel, and evil.” Across the room, Danielle’s group widened the circle of evil. They wrote on their poster: “Each one had to go to the hole and present his neck. Babies were thrown into the air and machine gunners used them as targets” [Wiesel, 192, p. 4]. They followed the quotation by writing, “This quote is meaningful because it shows how heartless and demented the Nazis were. It is beyond cruel to use babies as shooting targets, it is evil, pure evil.” I don’t think that Emma’s or Danielle’s small groups really believed that
Satan was possessing the body of Hitler/the Nazis, but their adjectives demonstrate a degeneration toward the inhuman: “unmerciful, cruel, and evil” and “heartless,”
“demented,” and “evil.” The danger in this escalation of rhetoric and slide toward depravity is that it might function is several ways for students, according to Schilling
(1996):
First, it provides a straightforward explanation of many aspects of the Final
Solution. Simply put, the Final Solution in all its corrosive horror was the work of 229 evil, psychologically deformed men. Second, this explanation lifts much of the
burden of guilt from “normal, average” citizens in Germany and other countries.
Third, it frees all of us from troubling questions about the capacity of normal
human beings to participate in an evil project and commit acts of brutality and
murder. We are obviously fundamentally different from the perpetrators and thus
can preserve our sense of humanity and morality. (p. 197-198)
It is difficult to look at the perpetrators as humans, and based upon their humanity (not their evil nature), make moral evaluations. Schilling (1996) refers to this as maintaining the tension between understanding and judgment.
Closer Look at Historical Actors
After witnessing the tendency in students at Adams (2003) and River Hill to look at Hitler as the perpetrator and as evil, I thought it was important to provide the opportunity for students at Adams in 2004 to look at the classes of historical actors more closely. In this vein, I created handouts for students to complete within their small groups
(Appendix 8-A). They defined the terms: victims, survivors, bystanders, perpetrators, collaborators, and rescuers. They were also asked to list people they had read about so far that would fit within the different groups of historical actors, provide characteristics of each group, and then write two short paragraphs about bystanders and rescuers. In a class discussion of “perpetrator” below, which occurred after the students finished discussing the handout in their groups, students were able to expand their list of perpetrators slightly.
Sydney Perpetrators are people who cause bad things to happen, cause the event to
happen. Some of the perpetrators we’ve read about are Hitler. 230 Skittles The SS.
Sean The Gestapo.
Florence Dr. Mengele.
Karen Did Wiesel mention him in Night?
Florence Uh huh.
Karen Are these perpetrators you’ve mentioned the only ones needed to make
the Holocaust happen?
Florence The collaborators.
Sean The bystanders and the victims.
Students generated a short list of particular others who perpetrated the Holocaust, led by
Hitler, of course. Students were able to mention perpetrators other than Hitler, but not anything different than a few students, like Fish (Adams, 2003), were able to do. One thing that was different was that, upon my prompting, they considered the roles of collaborators and bystanders in bringing the Holocaust into being. Though, as for that, they were likely just expert in picking up on my emphasis on “perpetrator” as a clue to want I wanted to hear.
In the next section, which followed uninterrupted from the first, I asked students to begin considering the character of the perpetrators. Although they didn’t mention evil specifically, they did describe Hitler/Nazis as “crazy,” “sick in their minds” and
“psycho.”
Karen What are the traits of perpetrators?
Razzle Angry and crazy and accusing. 231 Leila Prejudiced.
Emma Cold hearted.
Razzle Were the Nazis perpetrators?
Class Yes!
Nebula No sense of decency.
Ted This is what our group wrote: mean, demanding, over-angry, mental,
psycho, frustrated, people who need help in their heads, and selfish.
Karen How many of you think that perpetrators are like crazy psychos? Like by
definition, if they are going to perpetrate, they have to be psychos.
Class [¾ of the people raised their hands]
Sean They thought what they were doing was right.
Ted They were brainwashed. Hitler could have like scared them, “I’ll kill you
if you don’t do this!”
Danielle I think they had to be sick in their minds to make like crematories and all
that. It is so weird to even imagine that.
Florence But then the person who brainwashed them would have had to have been
psycho.
Ted That doesn’t mean all of them.
Frank They are not psycho, there is just something wrong with their minds.
This discussion included 17 adjectives that described Hitler/Nazis in many ways, 7 of which referred to them as some version of “crazy.” Sean, Ted, and Florence began to consider my question about whether or not the perpetrators were all “crazy psychos.” 232 Sean suggested that the Nazis thought that what they were doing was right, or at least they were culturally conditioned to believe in this way. Ted picked up on this and made a delineation between Hitler and those he brainwashed, to which Florence then added that
Hitler must have been “the” psycho.
I then took 13 minutes to explain the theories of several books—Ordinary Men
(Browning, 1992b), Hitler’s Willing Executioners (Goldhagen, 1997), and Eichmann in
Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil (Arendt, 1977). Next, I asked them to complete another handout, this time alone (Appendix 8-B). The object of this activity was to give students an opportunity to begin to think about the humanity in the different groups of historical actors. Twelve of the 45 participants chose to write a monologue on a perpetrator. Based upon the questions I provided for them, they couldn’t help but consider normal aspects of the perpetrators’ lives. Rick’s monologue explores the thoughts of one “Gestapo Man” who arrested the Franks.
Gestapo Man
Sometimes when I go to church I can’t stop thinking about what me and my
associates in the Gestapo do to the Jews. In every day life I wonder if God would
forgive me for the atrocities I have committed. As I took the Franks out of their
attic home I thought of my parents, as Mr. Frank reminded me of my father,
having concern about his children. I dropped my wallet and paused as a picture of
my daughter Emily fell out of if. As I looked at it Anne looked so similar. At
night I lie awake wondering if the people I killed would have improved the world. 233 Rick has humanized this one member of the Gestapo by giving him an activity outside of work—going to church—and a family, replete with father and daughter Emily. Rick’s
Gestapo Man knew that what he is doing was wrong, hoped for forgiveness, but never explained why he had taken part in the atrocities that caused him to stay awake at night.
That, after all, is the difficult part to understand.
Each of the 12 monologues included a perpetrator who knew that what he is doing was wrong and had a normal family (who would be shocked if they knew what the perpetrator was doing). Five of the 12 students offered a reason why they joined the
Gestapo, and 4 of those 5 students wrote that monetary reasons propelled their character into this line of work. One student, Dion, blamed his Nazi character’s actions on the antisemitic upbringing he received; though even then, Dion created a Nazi who was repentant for his actions.
The next step in complexifying perpetrators and other historical actors was to ask students to consider who was responsible for the Holocaust. I wanted them to maintain that tension between understanding and judgment (Schiller, 1997). The students wrote their “Who is Responsible” papers within their small groups, so I ended up with only 9 papers authored by students who were all participants in the study. I didn’t read the papers that included non-participants. The results were somewhat surprising to me: 5 of the 9 papers claimed that bystanders or antisemitism (or a combination of both) were the major factors in the perpetration of the Holocaust. For example, the group containing
Nebula, Razzle, Sydney, and Geoffrey wrote: “You can’t put the blame for the Holocaust on one specific person. Many people are responsible. The anti-Semitites [sic] and the by- 234 standers were the main groups that made it possible however.” Similarly, the group containing Emma, Frank, and Rick wrote that “Anti-semitism first started the discrimination against the Jews. The ones who were for anti-semitism are responsible for the horrors of the Holocaust for many reasons.” Their group went on to give the history of antisemitism from the Black Death to a racial theory of antisemitism (something Mrs.
Parker and I had added at the beginning of the unit).
Of the other 4 papers, all of them blamed the government (Hitler, the Nazis, or some combination). For example, the group which included Hawthorne, Charlotte, Stella, and Elmer wrote in their introduction:
So many people are responsible for the Holocaust. It could have been the
countries that did nothing, the Aryans, the British, the French, or just the normal
people who could have helped out. Despite all that, we believe that Hitler and the
Nazis were mainly responsible for all that had happened.
The group went on to describe three reasons why Hitler (only) should be held responsible: 1) Hitler turned the Nazi party into an antisemitic powerhouse, 2) Hitler demanded the Final Solution, and 3) Hitler was a powerful speaker who influenced many people.
In the end students were able gain a bit of perspective on the perpetrators and to spread the blame around to more than just Hitler. Even Hawthorne’s group, whose body paragraphs blamed only Hitler, implicated other groups in the introduction and throughout: the French, the British, normal people, antisemites, those who carried out the
Final Solution, and those who were swayed by his charismatic speeches. 235 If students at Adams in 2003 and River Hill in 2004 had been given the opportunity to explore historical actors in more detail, they may have exhibited similar thinking because it may not be the activities themselves that stimulated more nuanced thinking about historical actors, but such activities may have provided the opportunity to display such thinking. Either way, when students spoke of Hitler as a demonic and sole perpetrator they were opting for a simplified enfiguring of Hitler that ultimately distorted the narrative through which students viewed the Holocaust. This distortion, as Lang
(2005) has suggested, can “take on large proportions” within the overall representation of the Holocaust.
In the next section, I examine questions students raised myriad times and in myriad ways within each Holocaust unit. Like enfiguring Hitler, the questions affected the narrative frame of the Holocaust. They ended up emplotting the Holocaust and enfiguring Jews in particular ways, and did so from a position of privilege.
The Questions They Asked
Why didn’t they escape? Why didn’t they fight back? These are each variations on the same theme: Couldn’t the Jews have done something, anything, to mitigate the tremendous death toll? Each question also had the added component of putting the questioner in the catbird seat. In other words, had the student been in a similar position, he certainly would have been able to do something about it. 236 Why didn’t they escape?
Sammy (River Hill) responded to a picture prompt that Ms. France gave him
(Figure 8.2). He wrote “Why didn’t these people escape to a nearby house as soon as they were being forced into the reservations? I’d a dropped my bag and run, only one dude guarding them.” Because Sammy didn’t know that this photo depicted the liquidation of the Krakow ghetto, he imagined a benevolent, surrounding neighborhood to which he could easily escape.
Figure 8.2 Polish policeman supervising Jews being deported from the Krakow ghetto (probably 1942). Credit: USHMM, courtesy of Archiwum Panstwowe w Krakowie. Copyright: Public Domain.
Of course, it hardly made a difference whether the scene depicted ghettoization or
liquidation; the idea that there would be unimpeded access to neighborly people is a fantasy. Dwork and Van Pelt (2002) argued that “ethnic Poles in the newly recreated
Poland were as nationalist, and by the mid-1930s, as antisemitic as their German neighbors” (p. 116). Sammy’s question clearly presupposes a narrative of friendly people
willing to help. 237 While reading Night (Wiesel, 1982), students were also inclined to ask why the
Jews didn’t escape. As one example, Nick (Adams, 2003) wrote in his journal:
Firstly, I noticed how stupid the Jews of Sighet were. Of course, it is easy for me
to say that. I know about the holocaust. But they had a large chance to flee. Also,
on the wagons, when Madame Schachter was screaming, the Jews should have
tried to escape.
Nick admitted his catbird seat, but still alluded to the Jews’ “large chance to flee.”
Presumably, he was referring to the time between when Moshe the Beadle came back from Kolomaye to when the Gestapo rolled into Sighet. Nick still questioned the Jews despite the fact that he admitted that they couldn’t have known what “the Holocaust” was. This has the affect of keeping the Jews on the hook for their miserable fate. This view also presupposes a post-Holocaust narrative frame in which it could be imagined that,
governments across Europe...abandoned the well-established protections of
property and, by decree, identified its Jewish citizens, forbade them to travel, use
a telephone, or listen to a radio; forced them to wear a large yellow badge, drafted
the men as slaveworkers, and exiled the rest—without indictment, trial, or
conviction—to an “unknown destination.” (Dwork, 2002, p. xix)
Nick’s admission that Jews didn’t know, and yet his persistence with the question has a way of mischievously dismissing the key upon which the “stupidity” of the Jews turned. 238 Why didn’t Jews fight back?
Jerome (River Hill) explained in an interview with me that “it would have been best if Jews tried to defend theirself instead of just going like sheep in Night.” As in the question “Why didn’t they escape?” Jerome’s comment presupposes a post-Holocaust narrative frame, and perhaps unconsciously conjures up a religious frame as well (like sheep to the slaughter). I discussed the tendency to ask this question with Mrs. Parker, and she said:
Even in their journals they say, “Didn’t anybody ever fight back? Why didn’t they
stand up for themselves?” And then when we talk about the Warsaw Ghetto
Uprising and how they fought back and how they all died, that’s kind of a lesson
for them, too.
Mrs. Parker used the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising as an example of what would happen if
Jews did revolt. In a journal entry about Night, Samantha (Adams, 2003) wrote, “How stupid are the Jews? Why didn’t they fight back?” And Evangeline (Adams, 2004) wrote in her journal:
I had a split reaction to what I read [in Night]. At first, I was in disbelief that
everyone in the town of Sighet were so ignorant. Even after Moshe the Beadle
warned them, they just believed he was mad. Even though it’s easier to deny it,
how could they not fight back? The other half of me wasn’t surprised at all at how
brutal the government/Gestapo was.
Both Samantha and Evangeline thought the Jews were stupid and were remiss in not
fighting back. Evangeline’s last remark is proof that she was evaluating the Jews from a 239 post-Holocaust frame. She wasn’t surprised by the brutality of the Gestapo, but the scope and likes of this brutality were theretofore unparalleled.
In an interview with me at River Hill, Mr. May suggested a reason why his students asked the question about Jewish resistance so often: as African Americans they were taught to stand up under oppression.
Mr. May I would think that there may be a handful who feel sympathetic toward the
Jews and what happened to them, but would say that it is their own fault
because they didn’t stand up.
Karen I heard that a lot, too.
Mr. May I heard that a lot, too. A lot of our kids are taught from a very young age to
stand up to oppression.
Karen Yeah?
Mr. May And I think that they would see that as oppression and say, “Why didn’t
people stand up?” And as we’re going through it, kids ask me, you know,
“Why didn’t they not obey? Why didn’t they all rise up?” And I pointed
out, by the time anyone realized what was going on, it was too late. You
are stuck in the Warsaw Ghetto, you had no food, you had no sanitation,
you are being, living in there like an animal. Your body is getting weak,
and at that point, you know, what are you going to do to a guy with a
submachine gun?
Karen Do you, why do you think students get to that stage of sort of blaming
Jews for their own predicament. 240 Mr. May I think it goes back to what I said that they’ve been taught to stand up to
oppression and to stand up. I think they just don’t understand.
In keeping with Ms. France’s goal of lining the Holocaust up against Slavery/Civil
Rights, Mr. May explained that based upon their historical background, his students have been taught to stand up to oppression. They quickly honed in on the fact that Jews were not standing up, and this caused them to blame the Jews for their own predicament.
While I don’t doubt that students at River Hill were taught to stand up to oppression, I don’t see it as a special motivating force in asking the question (Why didn’t they resist?) since it was just as prevalent at Adams where oppression was nearly a foreign concept. It may, however, have taken on added salience at River Hill.
Lang (2005) wrote an interesting essay “Undoing Certain Mischievous Questions about the Holocaust,” and while I don’t agree with everything he said, he did raise an interesting point that helps to undo some of the mischief in the question: Why didn’t they resist? He asserted that other groups, including Russian soldiers, did not resist either. This is an important point because the question’s mischief lies in the implication that Jews, in particular, were exceptionally remiss and atypically passive in the face of the Nazi threat.
A less mischievous question would be to ask: “why didn’t more of the captive populations under Nazi control who were victims of persecution and punishment…resist more quickly or fully or actively?” (p. 90). The mischievousness of the question, then, lies in how it enfigures Jews as especially susceptible to passivity in the face of danger.
When the narrative lens is widened to include other historical actors, like the Russian
POWs and other events that victimized non-Jews—massacres at Lidice, Oradour, and 241 Kefalonia (Lang, 2005)—students can begin to see more fully the systematic, murderous design of the Nazis. The focus of this narrative shifts from Jewish culpability to Nazi malignancy.
The next section of the chapter leaves behind the questions students asked and moves on to the lessons they say they learned. I don’t cover the lessons the teachers hoped to teach because I already did so in Chapters 4 and 5.
Lessons
I have already shown that Mrs. Parker, Ms. France, and Mr. May intended their students to learn moral lessons—lessons of tolerance—as a result of studying the
Holocaust. The mere fact that they each asked what lessons their students learned served to frame the Holocaust as a series of historical events that was capable of conveying lessons. I explore the various kinds of lessons students said they learned within three categories gleaned from the data: content lessons (includes aphorisms), lessons of human nature, and lessons of action. After exploring the three categories of lesson-statements, I look at what the lessons-statements students say they learned; then, I explore two compelling cases of lessons; and finally, I examine the way students answered the questions on the Social Situations Survey (within Appendix 3-B). The questions on the survey were designed to explore students’ intentions to act in altruistic or tolerant ways.
An excerpt from Jerome’s (River Hill) written answer to the question “How has the Holocaust changed you?” illustrates all three categories:
The Holocaust has changed my life because at first I didn’t know as much about it
as I should’ve known about it. Now I can say that I’ll leave my sophomore class 242 knowing as much as I possibly could’ve known about the Holocaust. It has
opened my eyes to show how cruel the world can be and it has made me realize
that we have to change ourselves for the best, stand up, so that the world can be
hatred free.
The first two sentences focus upon the content lessons that Jerome learned (although they are unspecified content lessons and his claim of knowing as much as he could is clearly an overstatement). The third sentence (“It has opened my eyes to show how cruel the world can be and it has made me realize that we have to change ourselves for the best, stand up, so that the world can be hatred free”) contains the other two categories. When
Jerome said he now realized how cruel that world was, he was answering within the second category (lessons of human nature). In the final part of the last sentence, he explained how the Holocaust has taught him to act in the world (“change ourselves,”
“stand up”)—the final category.
There were 368 lessons that students said they learned: 57 at Adams (2003), 123 at River Hill, and 188 at Adams (2004). I don’t have an explanation for why the incidences of “lessons” were so low at Adams in 2003 compared to 2004. The change in the number of lessons came from increased lesson-statements within the students’ journals, the format of which didn’t change from 2003 to 2004.22
Content Lessons
Included in this category are responses in which students focused upon the subject matter they learned. For instance, at Adams (2003) Peter said he learned “how easily
22 I didn’t include student responses to Wiesenthal’s The Sunflower at Adams in 2004 because students didn’t read the text in 2003, and because their lesson-statements all had to do with forgiveness. 243 Jews become animals” (referring to the dehumanization of Jews in Night specifically).
Three others from different sites also mentioned this as a content lesson.
Speaking of Holocaust denial, Christina (River Hill) said,
I learned that I wouldn’t’ve cared and would have continued not to believe in the
Holocaust. I would have continued not to believe. I would have thought this event
was false.
Christina and four of her peers doubted that the Holocaust happened before they studied it in 10th grade, and as a result of the unit, they all said that they now believed it really
happened.
While any lesson learned is somewhat redemptive in that it recovers value from the Holocaust, one sub-group of responses seemed particularly so. For example, Farris
(River Hill) said, “I learned that tragedy has inspired [Elie] to teach the world about what
he went through.” Sydney (Adams, 2004) said, “This has taught me to be grateful, to not
take anything for granted.” While only one student at River Hill and one student at
Adams in 2003 claimed to learn lessons similar to Sydney’s, a whopping 14 people at
Adams in 2004 thought that the Holocaust taught them to be grateful for “the things that
really matter” in life. In Nebula’s case (Adams, 2004) that meant “the light of day, the
color of butterflies, or the sweet aroma of a flower.”
The last subgroup of content lessons contained the highest number of responses.
The following aphorisms comprise this group: “history repeats itself” (39 students),
“never again” (22 students), and “the Holocaust was inevitable” (4 students, all at River
Hill). 244 Lessons of Human Nature
The second category of lessons included students’ understandings of the way the world works or the position of humans in the world. Of the 63 responses in this category,
49 referred to lessons they learned about how cruel the world and mankind were. These responses tended to include other lessons about the world besides just “cruelty.” For example, Mallory (River Hill) wrote:
The Holocaust have gave me a better understanding on what really goes on in the
world, how cruel it is and can be. Understanding sexism, racism and everything
better to give a better understanding of life.
Like Mallory, Geoffrey (Adams, 2004) wrote: “I think the purpose of this unit is to show us that there is a horrible world beyond the sheltered life. Our parents shelter us from the cruelty in the world.” At Adams in 2003, Joe wrote, “People have been doing this for a long time, hating, killing, being cruel and hateful. I don’t think it will ever stop. I don’t think we will ever learn the lesson.” The lesson Joe learned is that mankind doesn’t learn lessons from atrocities like the Holocaust (perhaps another version of “history repeats itself”).
Other lessons in this group are harder to categorize and so varied that I can’t possibly do them justice. I will give just a few examples. Kendra wrote,
Learning about the Holocaust changed me in many ways. I now realize how
people can have so much hatred and do such terrible things to one another just
because they’re different. Learning about the Holocaust also made me understand 245 that I should and will not ever have so much hatred that I could destroy their
religion and their population
Kendra’s response showed a new understanding of hatred and what it was capable of when unleashed in the world. Because of this, presumably, she now understood that she must never have such hatred herself. Eleven students at River Hill spoke of race in their lesson-statements. Pryor (River Hill) said, “The Holocaust has changed me because I use to think that all of the hatred in the world was going against one race. When I started learning about the Holocaust I started thinking that the Jews had it worse.” There were 14 statements about learning not to discriminate against races from Adams in 2004, none at
Adams in 2003. Like Pryor, Annabelle (Adams, 2004) mentioned hatred. She wrote, “I learned that not everyone in the world is the same, and hate turns to violence.”
Lessons of Action
This category was the most densely populated. The most popular two words for lessons were “stand up,” and the next two most popular words were “speak out.” Eighty- nine responses from all three sites contained those words. Rachel (Adams, 2003) wrote,
“The Holocaust teaches [us] to stand up for someone being picked on.” Also from Adams
(2003), a group containing Renate, Julia, Jerry, and Ben wrote, “We have learned to speak out about human suffering and humiliation. Julia (River Hill) included both calls to action: “People should stand up and speak out against violence and hate crimes.” Also at
River Hill, Franklin wrote the following in a letter he sent to the school board recommending that all students from 6th grade on read Night (Wiesel, 1982): 246 I learned to speak out, and if you let students read Night they also could get a
grasp of what could happen in the world if no one speaks out on everyday issues
such as discrimination. The Holocaust teaches people to speak out. Instead of
reading adolescent books like Shiloh, they can read a book to get them ready for
high school.
Franklin used “speak out” to show what happens when people don’t speak out, but also to pledge to speak out in the future. His lesson-statement, like so many from River Hill, speaks of discrimination, and both Ms. France and Mr. May hoped that their students would learn that others have been discriminated against as well.
I found people “standing up” and “speaking out” at Adams in 2004 as well.
Brooke wrote the following after watching one of Spielberg’s Survivors of the Shoah
Visual History Foundation videos: “The Holocaust is a way to teach people how to stand up to hatred in the world and let an understanding of it in.” Danielle wrote, “I think the
Holocaust taught me to speak out for tolerance of racial and religious differences. I think the reason we study the Holocaust is to prevent it from happening again.”
Students at all three sites expressed their beliefs that the Holocaust taught them to take action, take sides, take steps, and to take a closer look. They said they learned to stop hatred, stop discrimination, stop bullying, stop tormenting others, stop talking bad about people, stop taking things for granted, and stop the Holocaust from happening again.
They said they learned to hang on to hope, hang on to family, hang on to faith, and hang on to dreams. They said they learned to respect different races, different religions, different cultures, different people, different ideas, and even “different differences.” 247 What do these lessons teach us about how students narratively frame the Holocaust?
Students claimed to learn a lot of different lessons. But what can be deduced from so long a list? Students from all three sites seemed to learn the same kinds of lessons even though the Holocaust units they experienced and their school contexts were quite different.
Most of the lesson-statements were not that compelling to me, frankly. They weren’t compelling because I could not trace their origin in student journals, class discussions, or other artifacts I analyzed. Nearly always, the lessons seemed to be born from thin air or from specific requests from teachers to explain what lessons they learned from the Holocaust. Of course, much of what students do is born from specific requests from teachers. What I found in journals, study guides, and class discussions were narrative frames that implicitly or explicitly condemned Jews for religious reasons. What
I found was a narrative of hope that swept Nazi horror under the rug. I found Hitler enfigured as the sole perpetrator and Jews enfigured as unusually passive. I found students who labeled others and teachers who allowed stereotypes to go unchallenged.
More compelling “lessons students learned” were two encounters, one from
Adams in 2004 and one from River Hill, one new and the other an exchange I shared already in Chapter 5. These two dialogues are compelling to me because they aren’t forced performances in the same way others were. In an interview with Nebula (Adams,
2004), she discussed what she learned through her unit of Holocaust literature. She thought that evil won out over good in the end. 248 Nebula The bad people kind of overpower the good. We are brought up with story
books and stuff that good always wins out over evil, and stuff. But I think
in real life, it’s kind of the opposite, but we are trying to bring children up
to think of it in an optimistic way.
Karen You said, we’re trying to bring people up to think of in a different way,
why not “behaving” in a better way?
Nebula I don’t think that people are like that strong enough in their beliefs that
they would actually put that much effort into making the next generation
more, more good.
Her view was skeptical, and contained the idea that parents and teachers tried to trick kids into thinking that good wins out over evil, but, she argued, parents and teachers were actually too weak themselves to take steps to assure that the next generation learned to behave in “good” ways. She seemed to indicate that we settled for story books that painted rosy pictures, and then turned our backs on real people in the lived world. What is so compelling about what she said is that she spoke to an important issue none of the other lessons addressed: it is hard work to stand up and speak out. Getting people to believe in a certain way is one thing, but getting them to act in a certain way is quite another. Her narrative didn’t include lessons that came cheaply. Her lessons were not easily assimilated into the narratives of individual achievement, progress, and freedom.
The other dialogue that I found so compelling was when Sammy was discussing how gays shouldn’t be allowed to marry (Chapter 5). He was very emphatic about his renunciation of same sex marriage. At first he argued that it was just gross to see a dude 249 kissing another dude, focusing on the sex part of the question and not on the rights of gays to marry. His turns were performative and even went so far as to declare that two girls having sex would be okay. Obviously, he was enacting a narrative frame that viewed these acts differently. He also invoked the Bible as a reason for standing up against gay marriage. What was compelling was that once he was able to think of gay rights as a part of civil rights, he began to soften his rhetoric and said, “But like you say, everybody wants their freedom.” I believe that this student learned a lesson, began to believe something that he didn’t believe before, or see something in a way he didn’t see it before.
Once Sammy’s narrative shifted to a frame of freedom, and away from a religious narrative, he was able to see that as far as freedom went, he was more like gays than unlike them. Whether or not he needed to study the Holocaust for this to happen is another story.
If the lessons they said they learned didn’t come directly from their interaction with Holocaust literature or history, where did they come from? I argue that for the majority of students, they left with what they brought into the unit, and Novick’s (1999) arguments support this contention. If students came with an overarching view of life as a linear progression from sin to redemption, they left the same way; only their view of the
Holocaust was bent to fit the model, often with lethal implications for Jews. If students came thinking that history progresses toward a utopia, then they left with the same idea, except now they considered the Holocaust a blip, “for every progression, there is something that catastrophic happens” (Logan, River Hill).
Social Situations Survey 250 As you have seen, students claimed to learn all kinds of lessons from the
Holocaust, but the Social Situations Surveys told a different story. Only one question on the survey stirred up a wide range of responses—Question 1 (regarding standing up for someone who was being picked on). Students at all sites said that they wouldn’t discriminate against people based upon race or religion. This is interesting because students claimed they would not discriminate against unknown others (Jews, Muslims, people of other races), but when it came to helping people that respondents were likely to encounter, the answers were all over the spectrum. Question 1 read:
You are walking down the hall at school and you notice that two students you
don’t know are picking on another student who is in your first period class. The
student being picked on is not a friend, just someone you are acquainted with.
Explain what you would think and do if you were in this situation.
This question called upon students to decide if they would altruistically help someone who was not their friend, something Mrs. Parker had specifically mentioned as a goal for teaching the Holocaust literature unit. There were a range of answers that I ultimately grouped into four categories: 1) I would intervene (e.g. “I would go up to the two kids and tell them to stop, and act all tuff and mean and maybe they would stop and if they don’t stop I would go get another friend or teacher”); 2) I do not know/I might do something (e.g. “I would probably think that the two people are jerks, and I don’t know if
I would do anything”); 3) I probably would not do anything (e.g. “It’s not right, but I seriously doubt if I would lift a finger”); and 4) I would not intervene (e.g. “I’d think that 251 it was mean for them to pick on the student, but I wouldn’t do anything to help him/her,
I’d let someone else handle the situation”) (Table 8-1).
Table 8.1 Frequency distribution for answers to question 1 on the Social Situations Survey
River Hill Adams 2003 Adams 2004 Adams 2004 Post-unit Pre-unit Pre-unit Post-unit 27 26 35 N % N % N % N % I would intervene. 13 0.54 8 0.30 9 0.35 13 0.37 I do not know/I might do something. 3 0.13 4 0.15 9 0.35 11 0.31 I probably would not do anything. 2 0.08 11 0.41 7 0.27 10 0.29 I would not intervene. 6 0.25 4 0.15 1 0.04 1 0.03 Total 24 1.00 27 1.00 26 1.00 35 1.00
Participants in all four categories referred to the fact that the bullies were wrong, they felt sorry for the victim, and they knew what the right thing to do was. Though, of course, this small survey is not generalizable beyond this population, given that participants’ reported learning the same lessons across units, it is interesting that knowing that it was wrong, feeling sorry for the kid being picked on, and knowing the right thing to do did not result in students reporting the same intentions to act. At Adams in 2004, students’ answers remained nearly the same from before and after the Holocaust unit, with roughly 30% reporting that they probably would not or would not intervene.
Students at River Hill had the highest percentage of students who believed they would intervene (53%), but when “would intervene” and “might do something,” are combined, the levels of altruistic risk taking behavior are roughly equal across surveys and schools
(68-70%), with the odd exclusion of Adams (2003) which only had a 45% response rate in these two categories. 252 The fact that responses from pre-test to post-test at Adams (2004) show little change is consistent with Novick (1999), who doubts
the usefulness of the Holocaust as a bearer of lessons. In large part, these doubts
are based on the Holocaust’s extremity, which on the one hand makes its practical
lessons of little applicability to everyday life; on the other hand makes anything to
which it is compared look “not so bad” (p. 261).
Yet the students did say that they learned 368 lessons as a result of studying the
Holocaust, and the group that reported learning the fewest lessons (Adams, 2003) also reported the least likelihood of intervening in altruistic ways.
Summary
This chapter explored three different elements that affected or effected narrative framing: enfiguring historical actors, asking questions, and learning lessons. Within the first section, I demonstrated that some students enfigured Hitler as the sole perpetrator of the Holocaust and often referred him as psycho or crazy. This enfiguring had the effect of exonerating other perpetrators, if only implicitly, and of taking Hitler’s behavior out of the realm of the human. I also described a critical literacy exercise that I conducted with students in an effort to get them to see historical actors in a more nuanced way.
In the second section of this chapter, I examined two questions that students asked myriad times during their Holocaust units: Why didn’t they escape? and Why didn’t they resist? I argued that these questions enfigured Jews as passive and remarkably remiss in not standing up to their own victimization. Calling upon an essay written by Lang (2005),
I explored how the questions could be rephrased to bring about a less mischievous result. 253 In the third section of this chapter I touched upon the 368 lessons that students said they learned by studying the Holocaust; interestingly, none of the 368 lessons specifically mentioned the dangers of antisemitism. These lessons fell into three main areas: content lessons, lessons of human nature, and lessons of action. I then explored what these lessons taught us about how students viewed the Holocaust and used two dialogues to look at lessons that were more compelling that the list of 368. In the final part of this section, I presented findings for Question 1 on the Social Situations Survey.
These findings showed that students at Adams did not show gains in intended altruistic risk taking behavior from pre-test to post-test. Also, the findings showed that across units and surveys, students thought of the situation in much the same way, but acted upon it differently. 254
Chapter 9
Framing the Holocaust in English Class:
Toward “Estranged Conceptual Prisms”23
Consciously or not, historical thinking underlies social consciousness and the way we
make sense of our current affairs. In politics, as in art, framing and perspective are inextricably linked.
~Penslar, Contemporary Antisemitism (2005, p. 8)
The subject then appears both as reader and the writer of its own life.
~Proust, Remembrance of Things Past (1988, v. 3, p. 246)
I begin this chapter with a brief synopsis of findings, and then explore each
finding in more detail vis-à-vis the theoretical underpinning of this study, narrative
identity, and the other studies I have reviewed.
23Term used by Felman (1992) to describe new “articulations of perspective” made necessary because the old forms have failed to contain the Holocaust (p.xv). 255 The contexts of Adams and River Hill contrasted sharply. Despite differences in race, socioeconomic class, views on race and discrimination, and instructional patterns, participants expressed a few key similarities. At Adams (2003, 2004) and River Hill, students overwhelmingly responded to Night (Wiesel, 1982) through a narrative of redemption that implicitly or explicitly condemned Jews. Students at both schools enfigured Jews as passively accepting their fate, while they enfigured Hitler as the sole, and demonic, perpetrator of the Holocaust. Further, participants at all three sites claimed to learn content lessons, lessons of human nature, and lessons of action. Students at both schools picked on present and absent Others through a complex web of social significations. Some shifting of narrative frames also occurred at both sites. Annabelle
(Adams) began to shift her frame of Othering during the Holocaust unit, and at least 8 students at River Hill began thinking about their treatment or assessment of absent and present Others during their unit of Holocaust literature.
There were also differences. Students at Adams were less likely to use the “Christ killer” designation when speaking of Jews. Two factors contributed to the relatively high incidence of this slur at River Hill: the social studies teacher explained that the slur was
“technically true,” and the movie The Passion of the Christ (Gibson, 2004) had just come out, so the idea was often debated in public. Students at River Hill were the only ones who said that Jews deserved to die for killing Christ.
River Hill students did not read a version of the Diary, so I couldn’t compare reactions between sites; however, there were similarities between observational years at
Adams. In both years, students overwhelmingly responded to The Diary of Anne Frank 256 (Goodrich & Hackett, 1994) through a narrative of hope that eviscerated Anne from the treacherous landscape of Nazi occupied Europe, displaced her death in favor of optimism, and otherwise distorted historical reality. When Mrs. Parker and I made explicit efforts to open up the “memory holes” (Morris, 2001) in which students stashed the death of Anne
Frank and the impending Nazi annihilation of Dutch Jewry, students were initially resistant, appeared to become acquiescent, and 8 weeks later relegated Anne’s death and the Nazi war machine back to the status of tangential. The Goodrich and Hackett play and the textbook’s positioning of it pushed students in the direction of optimism. Students who responded harmonically with this positioning can actually be considered good comprehenders of text, however dangerous such passive consumption may be.
Neither of the English teachers in the study had to teach Holocaust literature.
They each chose to, as Schweber (2004) argued about her participants, because they believed that the Holocaust was the purveyor of important lessons. Teachers claimed that one of the lessons of the Holocaust was tolerance, but they had other goals for teaching the class as well. Both Mrs. Parker and Ms. France were committed Christians whose faith led them to particular responses to the literature. Ms. France, for instance, saw that the Holocaust was a test of faith, and Mrs. Parker questioned whether or not she would be able to worship God and be faithful if she were in a position like Elie’s. The teacher’s historical frames also influenced Holocaust emplotment in the classroom. Ms. France was interested in showing students how the Holocaust was a parallel narrative to the narratives of slavery and Civil Rights because she wanted her students to see themselves in the humanity of the Jews. Mrs. Parker enfigured Hitler as the sole perpetrator of the 257 Holocaust, motivated by hatred for the Jews which sprang from his mind in the 20th
century. None of the teacher participants taught about the history of antisemitism, and expressly, none taught about the history of Christian antisemitism.
When it came to Night (Wiesel, 1982) the data showed that religious narratives took precedence over other factors that might have influenced student interpretations.
They also showed that narrative frames, while capable of mutability, had the affect of
snapping the students at Adams back to their original narrative positioning over a short
amount of time.
The final sections of this chapter explore how relevant theory explains the
particular narrative frames teachers and students used to construct the Holocaust, and
within each subsection the purposes, origins, and constraints of the frames are also
discussed. The final section is a discussion of the implications of this research for future
practice.
Narrative Frames
Ricoeur’s (1984) theories of emplotment and narrative identity are the fruit of his
central quest to understand the relationship between time and narrativity. Ricoeur argued
that human time is emplotted into stories that are called out and called together from the
diversity of available events (in history as in fiction). By choosing some events and
characters to highlight over others, particular stories with particular trajectories unfold.
This emplotment (or authorship or configurational act) is but a precursor to a
refigurational act (or reading) that rectifies the “previous narrative by the subsequent
one” (Ricouer, 1984, p. 248). Ricoeur refers to this as narrative identity. To put it plainly, 258 one’s perspectives can be altered through new experiences in the real world as in text worlds. As readers interact with a text, “what must be interpreted in a text is a proposed world which could [be] inhabit[ed]” (p. 45). To the degree that readers resist the “world of the text” they close themselves to changes in their way of being in the world although no one is ever really closed (Bakhtin, 1973). In this study, teachers and students— consciously and unconsciously—made use of various narrative identities, which can be individual or collective, and through them made meaning of the events of the Holocaust.
These narrative frames or templates (Wertsch, 2002) are cognitive instruments (Mink,
1978) that bring order to past events and point toward an acceptable ending (White,
1992). In this way, resisting a “text world” may stem from a commitment to an existing narrative identity at cross purposes with those perceived in the “text world.” All narratives exist in this dialogicality, and “do not serve as neutral cognitive instruments.
Instead, they are embedded in concrete discourse characterized by dialogic and rhetorical opposition” (Wertsch, 2002, p. 59). It is not surprising then, that the narrative frames teachers and students used could be viewed, for instance, as nonsensical from the perch of another narrative, just as my own narrative frames were at times viewed as nonsensical to students. One aim of critical literacy is to pry up this culturally constructed tool
“narrative frame” so students can use it as a scientific concept (Vygotsky, 1978).
Teachers’ Instructional Frames
Teachers operated from frames about instruction and Holocaust usability as well as from religious and historical frames. Mrs. Parker structured her course in such a way that students were given quite a bit of freedom and responsibility: freedom to read the 259 books within a limited time without teacher intervention or quizzing; responsibility for completing the reading assignments and requisite journal entries without teacher intervention. Mrs. Parker’s instructional frame for teaching in general included the liberal use of group work before whole class discussion of texts.
Adolescent readers need time to reflect on their reading, particularly on a topic as weighty as the Holocaust, so using the journals provided this reflective space (Braham,
1997; Hernandez, 2004; Short, 1997). Further, students were given time to discuss their responses in groups before they met for a whole group discussion. In general Mrs.
Parker’s instructional frame demonstrated a respect for the students’ intellect and diligence, and a proclivity for aesthetic rather than efferent response (Rosenblatt, 1978;
Rosenblatt, 1995). The down side to Mrs. Parker’s instructional frame in general is that she provided no help for students during the reading process. And they, in fact, asked for none.
Ms. France’s instructional frame was quite different than Mrs. Parker’s. Ms.
France’s students were 10th graders, and she gave them considerably less freedom, responsibility, and work than was expected of their 8th grade counterparts at Adams.
Students in Ms. France’s classes were assigned one chapter at a time for which they
completed a study guide that then served as the basis for classroom activity. Alvermann
and Moore (1991) argued that that is a typical, though not a profitable, instructional
pattern. The study guides reflected expectations of efferent reading (Rosenblatt, 1978,
1995). Further students in Ms. France’s classes were not given group time to discuss what
they had been reading, and class discussions in general were framed around their efferent 260 responses to Night (Wiesel, 1982) and Swing Kids (Manulis & Gordon, 1993). Ms.
France did occasionally bring up a moral question for students to answer and whenever she did, there was active participation and lively exchange of ideas and positions. Only during the Socratic seminar were students really allowed to say what they were thinking about the literature and speak directly to one another.
Burroughs (1999), Hines (1997), Lewis (1998), and Beach et al. (2003) found teacher narrative frames for interpretation affected student responses, often unconsciously. The teacher instructional frames of which I speak are even more rudimentary than interpretative stances. They speak to prevailing beliefs of student ability and proper instruction. The fill-in-the-blank curriculum (Spector, 2003) that Ms. France used did not allow students the space in which to ponder and contest the material of the
Holocaust. On the other hand, the freedom Mrs. Parker gave her students did not allow her to check individual student comprehension because their journal work was self- directed; they only had to write about what they wanted to write about, and asking questions of the material was acceptable. These questions, however, were never raised in the whole group because the journals were collected before small group or whole discussion began and were generally not returned until after they had moved on to the next text.
Usability of the Holocaust
Memory and history are often called upon to provide a “usable past” (Zamora,
1998). As mentioned above, White (1992) argued that emplotment (or Ricoeur’s concept of the configurational act) calls together certain events for some purpose. Teacher 261 participants harnessed the Holocaust to teach specific lessons or reach specific goals, some of which were not directly related to Holocaust content at all.
Mrs. Parker. She explained six different goals for students. Four of her goals were content–related and referred to the Holocaust: 1) to be aware it happened; 2) to know the dangers of one man taking too much power; 3) to know the dangers of giving one man too much power; and 4) to know the dangers of not standing up for what’s right. Each of these 4 goals pointed back to the Holocaust and forward toward a refiguration that she hoped her students would make as a result of the Holocaust unit. For example, by knowing that Hitler was elected legally, but used his authority to suspend the democratic process and begin a totalitarian 1000-year Reich (which only lasted 12 years), then students will understand the general lesson derived from this specific one: usurpation of power is dangerous. Whether it is necessary to study the Holocaust to learn this lesson is another story.
She also had lessons of action she wanted her students to learn: 5) to stick up for people; 6) to make a difference in the future. Because she saw her students as having little tolerance, she wanted the Holocaust to teach them to stick up for people in the hallways of Adams when they were being picked on. The relationship between “sticking up for people” and the Holocaust is that bystanders did not stick up for people (or perhaps rescuers did).
Mrs. Parker, it would seem, would emplot the Holocaust so that it could be used for these stated purposes. By focusing on Hitler as the sole perpetrator of the Holocaust, she emplotted the Holocaust toward the purposes of goal 2 (“to know the dangers of one 262 person taking too much power”), but she did this to the exclusion of some of her other stated goals, namely, giving someone too much power and not standing up for what is right. These goals could exist in dynamic tension with one another, but she did not emplot the Holocaust in this way for her students. The Diary of Anne Frank (Goodrich &
Hackett, 1994) exposed her students to rescuers (those who stood up for what is right), but because the horror of the Holocaust was eviscerated from the play, the class never spoke of the responsibility of taking on such a role. Mrs. Parker’s goals and her teaching in 2003 were good examples of how teachers believe the “Holocaust’s moral lessons” are so salient that they “[do] not require formal teaching (Schweber, 2004, p.6).
Ms. France. She had two goals for her students as they engaged in their Holocaust units. One of her goals was practical: for her reading assignments to coincide with the
WWII unit in the students’ social studies class. The other goal, shared by Mr. May as well, was to teach tolerance by looking at the shared humanity of African Americans and
Jews through parallel narratives of slavery/Civil Rights and the Holocaust. All three teachers, then, thought tolerance was a lesson or goal for their course.
Ms. France’s second goal of increasing tolerance through the emplotment of parallel narratives had its grounding in comparative racism. Penslar (2005) argued,
Along a parallel track with the work of Arendt, Adorno, and other German-Jewish
émigré intellectuals reacting to the Holocaust, American social scientists, repelled
by segregation against [B]lacks, pioneered comparative research in antisemitism
and racism as forms of intergroup prejudice. In books such as Gordon Willard 263 Allport’s The Nature of Prejudice (1954), bigotry and prejudice are considered
harmful, yet ameliorable, aberrations from the liberal order. (p. 4)
In an attempt to ameliorate the bigotry that Ms. France and Mr. May saw in their students, Ms. France created parallel narratives that had the benefit of calling upon what students already knew (slavery and Civil Rights) while at the same time teaching them what they didn’t know—the Holocaust. In this way, Ms. France emplotted the Holocaust and planned classroom activities to heighten the similarities between the histories of the two groups. She had her students compare Jim Crow Laws and the Nuremberg Laws and focused upon the dehumanization of the Jews in Night. This emplotment of the Holocaust into a parallel narratives influenced students’ encounters with the literature. Ms. France envisioned this emplotment as a way to overcome her student’ anticipated objections to studying about a different oppressed group. On the other hand, this framing of the
Holocaust as a parallel narrative may have caused her students objections to the
Holocaust unit. And her students did object.
Some students resented the time that they spent on the Holocaust and complained that they didn’t know as much about their own minority group as they did about the Jews and the Holocaust (although Ms. France explained that not only had they just finished a unit on Civil Rights, but that they talked about issues affecting African Americans all year). Some students even laughed at the contorted and nude bodies of Jewish victims. I suspect that they would not find pictures of lynchings amusing because these images were part of their narrative identity and reason for this derision aimed toward Jews didn’t arise from an encounter with pictures of atrocity; rather, the students’ narrative identity, 264 constructed at least partially by stories of oppression and discrimination as Mr. May pointed out, was perhaps threatened by the way Ms. France emplotted—and forced comparisons—between the two groups. Jews remained Other to some students at River
Hill, despite her goal of having students identify with Jews through the shared heritage of suffering.
Data from their Socratic seminar demonstrate the way they grappled with the question, “Which is worse? The Holocaust or slavery?” Two students advanced arguments about why slavery was worse than the Holocaust, and four students explained why the Holocaust would be worse. In the end it turned out to be a battle between what became two emblematic images: being whipped and having salt thrown on your wounds or seeing babies being burned alive. Though some students did try to raise pertinent differences, like slaves having some value to slave owners while Jews had no value to
Nazis, the majority of the debate was solely affective and did nothing to advance students’ views of history. According to Epstein (1998) and Rosenzweig and Phelen
(1998), African Americans view American history differently than European-Americans insofar as they mentioned discrimination, oppressive authority, and racism more frequently. I argue that the parallel emplotment may have distanced some students from
Jews because some African American students may have tried to preserve their narrative identity as the oppressed group. Those, like Jerome, who did embrace the parallel narrative, did not feel slighted by focusing on the Jewish atrocity because they thought that their minority group received adequate attention in the school. 265 Teachers’ Religious Frames
Schweber (2003) found that her teacher participant, who taught at a private religious school, thought of the Holocaust through her own Christian fundamentalist faith, such that Christians replaced Jews in the story of religious persecution. Both of my teacher-participants taught in the public schools, and the data showed that my teachers’ religious frames didn’t stop at the doorway to the classroom either. Both Mrs. Parker and
Ms. France believed that their personal faith in God affected the way they read Night.
Mrs. Parker believed that the importance of the Holocaust had to do with the fact that
Jews were the chosen people of God, and reading Night caused her to question her own faith or at least whether her own faith would be strong enough to survive such horrible events. Ms. France attributed her increased spirituality with helping her see Night in a new light. She used to think that Elie lost his faith in the memoir, but she came to see the experiences Elie went through were just a test by God and that something good would come out of it. Working from existing frames of reference instead of from the text is a common practice with multicultural literature (Beach, 1997; Vinz et al., 2000; Webster,
2001). Theoretically speaking, then, the teachers’ religious frames can be explained through a reader-response approach to text (Iser, 1974; Rosenblatt, 1978). The configurational-refigurational rectification (Ricoeur, 1984) whereby, in this case, teachers imagined themselves in Elie’s position is more powerful in explaining how the teachers took into account the new information they received through reading the text. For example, Ms. France saw Elie as being tested by God and thought that good would come from his experience. She didn’t mention evidence from the book that made her think this 266 way; instead, her religious frame contained elements (configurational) that 1) made it reasonable for suffering to be productive and 2) made it feasible that God tested his children in these kinds of ways. If these were already elements of her faith, then she didn’t need to refigure her narrative identity. If they were not, then they were necessary refigurings that made her continued faith in God make sense in light of the new information.
According to Ricoeur, corrections were necessary because if she didn’t make them, her configured religious narrative frame would conflict with the pressing questions that have occurred to her as the result of reading the text. Bartlett (1995), coming from a psychological view of memory, spoke of “tendencies which the subject brings with him” that make particular responses easier, quicker and less obstructed (p. 44). These
“tendencies” I conceive of as parts of narrative identity (Ricoeur, 1988).
Based upon what she read, Ms. France didn’t have to apply a religious frame. She could have, for instance, responded through a narrative of tolerance, in which case she may have said that she realized that antisemitism was the cause of the events in Elie’s life and that only constant vigilance and better laws would ensure rights in a pluralistic society. The narrative frames of religion and tolerance don’t necessarily conflict with one another and both offer extratextual explanations or evaluations; however, from Ricoeur’s perspective (1988), “it is always possible to weave different, even opposed plots about our lives” (p. 248). If her goal was tolerance as she stated, why didn’t she read Elie through that narrative frame? Her own religious tendencies made it necessary, perhaps, 267 for her religious questions to be rectified, thus the religious frame became more personally pressing than the tolerance frame.
Mrs. Parker wasn’t as successful as Ms. France in making Elie’s story fit her own religious beliefs because she was left wondering if she would be faithful; that is, she was left wondering if her narrative identity would remain intact in such a situation. During the practice of critical literacy, imbalances like this occur (Hines, 1997). It is possible that
Mrs. Parker, in an act of reading the Holocaust, would abandon her religious frame altogether. Simply by shifting narratives from religious to secular, she would be able to bypass her narrative identity problem. She could also refigure her narrative to now include why or how one could remain faithful in Auschwitz , for example, or like Ms.
France, could read a superseding narrative over that provided in the text in order to maintain narrative equilibrium.
Students’ Holocaust Emplotment and Lessons
Students at both Adams (2003, 2004) and River Hill similarly enfigured Hitler and claimed to learn the same kinds of lessons. Mrs. Parker, like her students, emplotted
Hitler as the sole perpetrator, but she did not demonize him the way her students did.
Interestingly, even though Ms. France did not emplot Hitler as the sole perpetrator or demonize him, her students did both. Students’ views of Hitler, then, are predicated on more than simply the teacher’s emplotments. What follows is a theoretical explanation of why students at these diverse sites responded similarly to Hitler and claimed to learn the same lessons. 268 Enfiguring Hitler
Survivor testimonies have long been a staple of Holocaust education because they aid students in reflecting on individual responsibility and choiceless choices (Bauer,
1975; Cargas, 1981; Totten, 1991). Past studies have shown that reading individual narratives of historical actors motivates students to learn history (Barton, 1997, Levstik,
1986; Levstik, 1989), but the tendency also has several limitations. According to Barton
(1997), those who used individual narratives “almost completely ignored the impact of collective action, as well as the role of societal institutions such as political, legal, and economic systems” (pp. 155-156). Students used the narrative tool of “individual achievement and motivation” (Barton & Levstik, 2004, p. 150) to explain complex historical events, not because thinking in this way is a limitation of young minds, but because when students are perplexed, this narrative tool provides a familiar way to make meaning. The narrative of individual achievement and motivation explains the tendency in students at Adams and River Hill to construct the Holocaust through the person of
Hitler. Interestingly, students at River Hill had a clear understanding of institutional structures that oppressed African Americans (schools, police, employers), but this concept did not seem to transfer to their understanding of the Holocaust. It is less surprising that students at Adams responded this way since they didn’t seem to have an understanding of institutional racism to begin with.
The focus on Hitler and the intentionalist view students embraced affected their overall ability to make sense of the Holocaust and to learn transferable lessons of 269 tolerance, which their teachers expected them to learn. As Barton and Levstik (2004) argue,
focusing on individual beliefs and actions fundamentally misrepresents those
events and, perhaps more important, leaves students ill equipped to understand
institutional racism and other forms of discrimination today, when individuals are
less likely to publicly affirm personal prejudices. (p. 157)
Besides casting Hitler as the sole perpetrator of the Holocaust, they also demonized him. Historians have differed over the years regarding their own enfiguring of
Hitler. Many have argued that Hitler, Nazis, or even the whole German people were psychotic, abnormal, or fiendishly antisemitic (Adorno et al., 1950; Fromm, 1941/1969;
Goldhagen, 1997; Waite, 1977). Others, like Browning (1992), have argued that “Not trying to understand the perpetrators in human terms would make impossible…any history of Holocaust perpetrators that sought to go beyond one-dimensional caricature”
(Browning, 1992, xiv-xx). Scholars like Browning strive to show the all too human nature of Hitler, the Nazis, and “ordinary” Germans (Arendt, 1977; Lifton, 1986; Maier,
1988).
The limitation of demonizing Hitler, as students in this study did, is that pathologizing the perpetrators tended to implicitly exonerate them. Waite (1977) argued that “to dismiss Hitler or Himmler…as madmen or fiends, incomprehensible to ‘normal’ people is to say that critical judgment of them is not possible” (p. xvii). Morris (2001) added her voice to this debate by saying that demonizing perpetrators keeps us from thinking about the “complexities of their responses” and their individual responsibility (p. 270 126). So while casting Hitler as the sole perpetrator may individualize him and tend to draw students toward examining his motives and decision, demonizing him tends to do the opposite, tends to remove him from careful scrutiny and toward exoneration. Further, if Hitler can be conceived of as “insane” or a “demon” as Kate (River Hill) suggested, then there is no need to look for deeper explanations within Western society (though I realize that “Western society” is essentializing).
Lessons Students Learned
The most confounding thing about the lessons that students said they learned is that except for a few of them, it was impossible to determining when or how they learned them. Annabelle at Adams and Terrella, Hallie, Kate, Shelaina, and Sammy at River Hill all expressed a new understanding they had come to regarding tolerance. Annabelle learned that stereotypes of Nordamns, cheerleaders, Freaks, and accelerated students seemed to contradict each other, but they all existed in bodily form in Nebula. She realized that the stereotypes were false. The students at River Hill learned that the way they thought about others or acted towards others in the past was misinformed. Of the
368 lessons students claimed to learn, tolerance was chief among them, either as a content lesson or a lesson of action, and I can point to only these 6 examples that “verify” it. There could be several explanations for this. First, they did, in fact, learn the lessons they claimed to learn, but did so “internally” in ways that didn’t show up “externally,” except in the claim that they did learn them. A second explanation could be that they picked up upon their teachers’ wishes that they learn them, wishes expressed by questions such as Ms. France’s: “How has studying the Holocaust changed you?” Through the 271 emplotment of the Holocaust as a series of events that was capable of bearing important lessons, students began looking for lessons that might be learned. Finally, the belief that the Holocaust teaches tolerance and other lessons that advance the pluralistic goals of
American society has become part of a narrative frame that students have ready possession of and use to construct the Holocaust. The truth probably lies amidst all three of these alternative explanations. Novick (1999) somewhat convincingly argued in The
Holocaust in American Life, however, that,
for most Americans deploring the Holocaust is a rather ritualistic, albeit
undoubtedly well-meant, gesture toward Jews who ask them to do so—a cost-free
avowal that, as decent people, they are moved by the murder of European Jewry.
For all of the extent to which the Holocaust has reverberated throughout
American society, it’s not clear that the Holocaust is an American collective
memory in any worthwhile sense. (p. 278)
In other words, the students in my study may have been reacting with an American sense that discrimination is bad, at least in theory, so that they could join together in despising inequality without really having to care about the victims and without much fear that it would precipitate any changes in present inequities in American society. The Holocaust then could bring Americans together in hating what it didn’t have the courage to address in its own social fabric—the very thing Nebula cleverly pointed out in Chapter 8.
Students’ Narratives of Redemption
Vinz (2000) argued, “Students most often work from their frame of reference rather than from what the events and characterization of the story tell…” (p. 52), and I 272 found this to be true at both Adams and River Hill. Like their teachers, students responded through religious narrative frames to the text Night. Rubenstein and Roth
(2003) argued that the “principle function of theology” in relation to responding to the
Holocaust “is to foster dissonance reduction where significant items of information are perceived to be inconsistent with established beliefs, values, and collectively sanctioned modes of behavior” (p. 329, italics in the original). This dissonance reduction functions within the Judeo-Christian narrative of sin and redemption, which is linear overall: from sinful Adam came the need for ultimate redemption in Messiah (Soulen, 1996). The
Holocaust and other atrocities are replicas of this overarching narrative of good versus evil. Students responded to the Holocaust through this narrative of redemption in four different ways (all of which may have reduced the dissonance students were feeling as a result of their reading): preaching, superseding, struggling, and condemning. Each of these themes had its own relationship to Jewish and Christian views of redemption, and each arose as a way of explaining their present beliefs in light of the new information they have gained; this was done through acts of configurational-refigurational rectification (Ricoeur, 1984). Students who preached to Elie recognized that his waning faith presented a problem for him in the Kingdom of God. Because they empathized with him, they wanted him to do the right thing, thus saving his eternal soul. In this case, students religious frames didn’t change, they simply applied their existing frames to this new situation. To them, Elie’s struggle did not present a special problem that their existing frame couldn’t handle. 273 Students in the superseding category reacted as Ms. France did, overlaying their own religious narrative frame on top of Elie’s memoir. In this way they ignored his suffering, ignored his faith struggles, or read their own Christian symbolism on top of
Elie’s experiences. In these cases, students’ frames didn’t change, the material in the book changed to fit their frames. This practice of superseding the text demonstrates that students are able to question a text, or at least ignore it, when they want to. Superseders aren’t necessarily poor comprehenders, rather the “text” they consider includes more than the classroom text.
For strugglers, the events of the Holocaust posed a threat to their existing religious faith. As they tried to rectify the new information with their present belief in
God, they realized that either their view of God had to change or their view of the situation had to change. Some strugglers, like Keniya were left with a paradox, God is good and wouldn’t allow the Holocaust to happen, yet the Holocaust did happen.
The condemners, partly fueled by their enfiguring of Jews as Christ killers believed that within the narrative of sin and redemption, Jews were eternally sinful and deserved to die. The study of the Holocaust may have raised the question of Jewish culpability that led to a refiguration of their religious frame.
These narratives of redemption had the affordance of explaining the ways of God to man. This often led to the maintenance of the religious status quo. Additionally, students didn’t learn about the role of Christian antisemitism over the ages, which enabled Christian students to treat the Jews with a certain degree of smugness. These emplotments of Jews within the overarching narrative of redemption often implicitly, or 274 explicitly, condemned Jews. Undoubtedly, condemnation does not serve the goal of teaching tolerance.
Narratives of Hope
One of the most surprising things about this study was the way that students thought Anne Frank frolicked in Bergen-Belsen. It was clear, though, from the history of the Diary and the way the textbook depicted the play that students were pushed in the direction of optimism. I found, however, that students were very committed to their enfiguring of Anne as optimistic, especially so as I tried to interrupt their belief that Anne was happy in the concentration camps. Beach (2003), Hines (1997), and Vinz et al.
(2000) have all found that critical approaches to literacy may be perceived as challenges to the beliefs and norms that students hold dear. I found this to be true at Adams.
Novick (1998) argued that the reason the Hacketts wrote The Diary of Anne
Frank and the reason it was so popular when it was staged was that Americans at the time wanted a universalist and optimistic story. Fifty years later, this still seemed to be true for students at Adams. This “American” optimism stemmed from two narratives within the collective memory of this country: the narrative of individual achievement and motivation and the narrative of freedom and progress (Barton & Levstik, 2004).
Students enfigured Anne as a young girl who, through her optimism and pluck, would overcome her horrible circumstances. In order to accomplish this feat they needed to lose Anne’s death and the Nazis in “memory holes” (Morris, 2001). The individual narrative led students to eviscerate Anne from the clutches of the Nazi death machine to such an extent that students didn’t even think that Hitler or the Nazis were part of the 275 story; it also led them to “forget” she died. As Barton and Levstik (2004) noted, this kind of emplotment limits students’ ability to understand the complex social structures within which historical actors find themselves and limits the ability of students to see parallels to contemporary problems.
Framed as an individual narrative—and indeed the original Diary was one, though
Anne did show that she knew she was a victim of antisemitism and genocidal policies— students further appropriated narrative tools they had ready possession of. American children are used to thinking that over time, history proceeds toward freedom (Foner,
1998) and that history is a series of “steady improvement[s] in social and material life”
(Barton & Levstik, 2004, p.167). Both of these narratives fit thematically within the
Judeo-Christian narrative of progression from a state of sinfulness toward a state of redemption. The upshot of this is that students were predisposed by these narratives to think that Anne would survive, that the conditions she lived in would get better, and that her release from the annex was a form of freedom to be celebrated. Morris (2001) calls this “utopic thinking” and claimed that this kind of thinking has difficulty dealing with
Others who don’t fit the mold. This was clearly the case for students at Adams.
Another finding from Chapter 7 was the importance of the classroom script of reading a text and answering questions. In the case of the question regarding Anne’s happiness in a concentration camp, students slavishly adhered to Mr. Frank’s statement that Anne was happy. This is perplexing especially in light of the fact that “superseders” reading Night obstinately refused to pick up what was written in black and white in the text. Students, already positioned to believe that Anne was happy, had no need to 276 contradict or ignore what Mr. Frank said despite the fact that they had to distort what they knew about conditions at Auschwitz. Their “tendency” toward the hopeful narrative was the key factor in relying on text. On the other hand, students who superseded Elie’s memoir (his “text”) were already positioned by their religious narratives to believe that suffering is meaningful and that God intervenes in history, thus the text stood in the way of their “tendency” in this direction.24 In some cases the question and answer script aligns
with prevailing narratives and at other times it does not. This has clear implications that I
will discuss in the section below.
Implications: Toward Estranged Conceptual Prisms
The concept of narrative identity (Ricoeur, 1984, 1988) provides a useful tool for investigating teachers’ and students’ complex interpretations and readings of Holocaust literature. Narrative identity—and its components of emplotment and enfiguring—are versatile enough to explain stasis and shifts in thinking, even when that thinking opposes common sense. Students and teachers in this study used the tool of narrative identity to
rectify their perspective with the new material they learned. This led to many constraints on learning: historical distortions, simplifications, obfuscations, and misrepresentations.
Often these constraints had harmful consequences for the way students thought of Jews.
Since the teachers in this study all wanted to teach tolerance, narrative identity frequently stood in the way of achieving their goal.
24 Interestingly, Seidman (1996) has argued that Night is a carefully crafted artifact that was fashioned in part by the French publisher and adapted from Wiesel’s original and massive text. Like the Diary, then, Night, is a mediated artifact designed to have resonance with a particular audience of readers. In a brief chapter, Weiss (2004) discusses his use of Night and Seidman’s article, among other texts, in a college course he taught. 277 How does the Holocaust prepare post-Holocaust minds? Charlotte Delbo was quite clear that the Holocaust possessed only useless knowledge (1995), yet American educationists have believed and continue to believe that the Holocaust is the purveyor of important lessons (Schweber, 2004). Simply examining the literature of atrocity or even more simply just learning that it happened should be reason enough to study the
Holocaust without burdening it with the responsibility of conveying lessons. I remain skeptical of the lessons students say they learned and question the validity of studies that demonstrate gains in the area of moral development, especially those studies that didn’t involve classroom observation and immersion in the classroom environment. There is a big difference, as Nebula (Adams) pointed out, between espousing a lesson and acting differently in the world. One implication of my findings is that teachers should submit their goals and lesson expectations to serious scrutiny, especially considering all of the narrative frames that potentially stand in the way of their realization.
Another implication of my study is that like lessons, teachers need to submit their own “narrative identity” to a process of investigation so that they understand from which place their desire to teach about the Holocaust is coming. In this way, teachers will be aware of the often unconscious emplotments and enfigurings that affect their decision about what to teach and how to teach it. On that note, teachers would also benefit from considering both the amount of freedom students have to read and understand Holocaust literature and the amount of time they give students to ponder and contest what they are learning. It would seem that for each group of students some optimal tension between the two should be sought. 278 Ms. France said, “Religion is always there,” and refusing to take it into consideration only exacerbates problems that the Holocaust poses, problems stemming from religious narrative frames and fear of teaching the history of Christian antisemitism.
Both students and teachers in my study mentioned a “post-9/11 world” in which religious questions resonated perhaps more than they have since the end of WWII. This is even more reason for teachers to explore, as Ms. France suggested, the effect of religion on learning.
Teaching students to find something in the text is indeed an important skill for students to learn in our information-driven society, but not at the expense of other skills, like questioning the text or questioning the extra-textual information we bring to bear on a particular reading of a text. A dynamic tension between comprehending what is in the text, the ideologies that fuel it, and the reader’s own narrative identity are all a part of comprehension that citizens in a democracy need to have. Jones (personal communication, April 18, 2005) wrote, “When we teach students to maintain loyalty to the authority of texts and answer questions relying on the content and tone of those texts, we invite passive consumption of ideologies represented in such texts and thus endanger democracy.” This is a loud and resounding call for critical literacy in the early grades, and not just the critical examination of texts, but the critical examination of selves. As
Proust said, “The subject then appears both as reader and the writer of its own life”
(1988, v. 3, p. 246), and if subjects don’t critically and actively read and write their own lives, the result may be that they become, I paraphrase Nafisi (2004), the figment of other people’s dreams. 279 Though the use of Paul Ricoeur’s work in the service of critical literacy is unusual, this lens was well suited for the project of explaining the many layers of meaning I encountered in my data: historical representation, perspective-taking, cultural location, normalized and ideologically inscribed narratives, and even fiction and myth. I had to reject Althusser (1971) because his “subjects” seemed incapable of either resisting interpellation or becoming aware that they are interpellated. Obviously, people reject narratives all the time and only sometimes accept them. Narratives are taken up and also put down. This is the place where Ricoeur’s work may be able to move us in profitable directions as far as critical literacy is concerned. Why do people take up particular narratives in particular situations and how can we build dialogicality within classrooms to begin freeing “narrative frame” for use as a scientific concept? Taking on the language of
Felman (1992), teachers and students could strive together to look at the Holocaust, through “estranged conceptual prisms,” through ways of viewing the world that don’t conform to the apologetics of redemption and hope, but through which they can begin to form the arguably un-American tool of the narrative of atrocity. 280 References
Adorno, T.W., Frenkel-Brunswick, E., Levinson, D.J., Sanford, R.N., Aron, B., Hertz
Levinson, M., & Morrow, W. (1950). The authoritarian personality. New York:
Harper & Brothers.
Alvermann, D.E., & Moore, D.W. (1991). Secondary school reading. In R. Barr, M.L.
Kamil, P.B. Mosenthal, & P.D. Pearson (Eds.), Handbook of reading research,
Vol. II, pp. 951-983). New York: Longman.
Althusser, L. (1971). Lenin and philosophy and other essays. New York: Monthly
Review Press.
Alvermann, D.E., Commeyras, M., Young, J.P., Randall, S., & Hinson, D. (1997).
Interrupting gendered discursive practices in classroom talk about texts: Easy to
think about, difficult to do. Journal of Literacy Research, 29(1), 73-104.
Annan, K. (2004). A message from the Simon Wiesenthal Center: Combating anti-
Semitism. Retrieved June, 2004 from http://www.wiesenthal.com/mailings
_swc/swc_june2404.htm
Applebee, A.N., Bermudez, A.B., Hynds, S., Langer, J.A., Marshall, J., & Norton, D.E.
(1994). McDougal, Littell literature and language, green level. Evanston, IL:
McDougal, Littell.
Arendt, H. (1977). Eichmann in Jerusalem: A report on the banality of evil.
Harmondsworth: Penguin.
Arnot, M. (2002). Reproducing gender? London: Routledge.
Bakhtin, M.M. (1986). Speech genres and other late essays. Austin: University of Texas 281 Press.
Bakhtin, M.M. (1973). Problems of Dostoevsky's poetics. Ann Arbor, MI: Ardis.
Bakhtin, M.M. (1986). Speech genres and other late essays. Austin: University of Texas
Press.
Bardige, B.L. (1983). Reflective thinking and prosocial awareness: Adolescents face the
Holocaust and themselves. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Harvard University.
Bardige, B.L. (1988). Things so finely human: Moral sensibilities at risk in adolescence.
In C. Gilligan, J.V. Ward, J.M. Taylor, & B.L. Bardige (Eds.), Mapping the moral
domain: A contribution of women's thinking to psychological theory and
education (pp. 87-110). Cambridge, MA: Harvard University.
Bartlett, F.C. (1995). Remembering: A study in experimental and social psychology.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Barton, K.C. (1997). "Bossed around by the queen": Elementary students' understanding
of individuals and institutions in history. Journal of curriculum and supervision,
12, 290-312.
Barton, K.C., & Levstik, L.S. (2004). Teaching history for the common good. Mahwah,
NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.
Bauer, Y. (1975). Guide to unpublished materials of the Holocaust Period, Volume III.
Jerusalem: Yad Vashem.
Bauman, Z. (1989). Modernity and the Holocaust. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.
Beach, R. (1997a). Critical discourse theory and reader response: How discourses
constitute reader stances and social contexts. Reader, 37, 1-26. 282 Beach, R. (1997b). Students’ resistance to engagement with multicultural literature. In T.
Rogers & A.O. Soter (Eds.), Reading across cultures: Teaching literature in
diverse society (pp. 69-94). New York: Teachers College Press and NCTE.
Beach, R., Parks, D., Thein, A.H., & Lensmire, T. (April, 2003). High school students'
responses to alternative value stances associated with the study of multicultural
literature. Paper presented at the annual meeting of AERA, Chicago.
Beach, R., Parks, D., Thein, A., & Lensmire, T. (April, 2004). Working class high school
students' discussions of affirmative action related to responses to multicultural
literature. Paper presented at AERA, April, 2003, San Diego.
Belsey, C. (1980). Critical practice. London: Methuen.
Berenbaum, M. (1991). After tragedy and triumph: Essays in modern Jewish thought and
the American experience. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.
Benigni, R. (Director). (1997). Life is beautiful [Motion picture]. US: Miramax.
Berlak, A. (1999). Teaching and testimony: Witnessing and bearing witness to racisms in
culturally diverse classrooms. Curriculum inquiry, 29(1), 99-127.
Bischoping, K. (1996). Interpreting social influences on Holocaust knowledge.
Contemporary Jewry, 17, 106-135.
Boyd, F. (2002). Conditions, concessions, and the many tender mercies of learning
through multicultural literature. Reading research and instruction, 42(1), 58-92.
Braham, B. (1997). Holocaust education: Legislation, practices, and literature for middle
school students. The social studies, 88(3), 139-142. 283 Brabeck, M., Kenny, M., Stryker, S., Tollefson, T., & Stern-Strom, M. (1994). Human
rights education through the "Facing History and Ourselves" Programme. Journal
of moral education, 23(3), 333-347.
Brice-Heath, S. (1983). Ways with words. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Browning, C. (1992a). Beyond "Intentionalism" and "Functionalism": The decision for
the Final Solution reconsidered. In The path to genocide: Essays on launching the
final solution (pp. 86-121). New York: Cambridge University Press.
Browning, C. (1992b). Ordinary men. New York: HarperCollins.
Browning, R. (1956a). Pippa passes. In D. Smalley (Ed.), Poems of Robert Browning (pp.
3-46). Boston: Houghton Mifflin.
Browning, R. (1956b). Porphyria's lover. In D. Smalley (Ed.) Poems of Robert Browning
(p. 73). Boston: Houghton Mifflin.
Bruner, J. (1986). Actual minds, possible worlds. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University
Press.
Bruner, J. (1990). Acts of meaning. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Bruner, J. (1991). The narrative construction of reality. Critical inquiry 18, pp. 1-21.
Burrin, P. (1994). Hitler and the Jews: The genesis of the Holocaust. London: Edward
Arnold.
Burroughs, R. (1999). From the margins to the center: Integrating multicultural literature
into the secondary English curriculum. Journal of curriculum and supervision,
14(2), 136-155. 284 Byrnes, D., & Kiger, G. (1988). Contemporary measure of attitudes toward blacks.
Educational and psychological measurement, 48, 107-119.
Cargas, H.J. (1981). A Christian response to the Holocaust. Denver, CO: Stonehenge.
Carrington, B., & Short, G. (1997). Holocaust education, anti-racism and citizenship.
Educational review, 49(3), 271-283.
Cole, M., & Engestrom, Y. (1993). A cultural-historical approach to distributed
cognition. In G. Salomon (Ed.), Distributed cognitions: Psychological and
educational considerations (pp. 1-46). New York: Cambridge University Press.
Comber, B. (1998). Critical literacy: What’s it all about? Learning matters, 3(3), 9-14.
Comber, B. (2001). Classroom explorations in critical literacy. In H. Fehring & P. Green
(Eds.), Critical literacy: A collection of articles from the Australian literacy
educator’s association (pp. 90-102). Newark, DE: International Reading
Association.
Comber, B. & Cormack, P., & O’Brien, J. (1998). Schooling disruptions: The case of
critical literacy. In Dudley-Marling, C. Edelsky, C. (Eds.), Where did all the
promise go? Case histories of progressive language policies and practices.
Urbana, IL: National Council of Teachers of English.
Comber, B. & Simpson, A. (Eds.). (2001). Negotiating critical literacies in classrooms.
Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.
Commager, H.S. (1967). The search for a usable past, and other essays in historiography.
New York: Knopf. 285 Cruz, G., & Melendez, J. (1997). A case study of the responses of Caribbean students to
multicultural literature. In G. Cruz, S. Jordan, J. Melendez, S. Ostrowski, & A.C.
Purves (Eds.), Beyond the culture tours: Studies in teaching and learning with
culturally diverse texts (pp. 35-46). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.
Cruz, G., Jordan, S., Melendez, J., Ostrowski, S., & Purves, A.C. (1997). Beyond the
culture tours: Studies in teaching and learning with culturally diverse texts.
Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.
D'Amico, J.J. (2001). A closer look at the minority achievement gap. ERS spectrum,
19(2), 4-10.
Danks, C., & Rabinsky, L.B. (1999). Teaching for a tolerant world. Urbana, IL: NCTE.
Davies, I. (2000). Teaching the Holocaust: Educational dimensions, principles and
practice. London: Continuum.
Dawidowicz, L.S. (1975). The war against the Jews: 1933-1945. New York: Bantam
Books.
Delbo, C. (1995). Auschwitz and after. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.
Dornheim, R. (Director). (2001). Anne Frank: The whole story ABC Miniseries
[Videorecording]. New York: ABC.
Dutro, E. (2002). "But that's a girls' book!": Exploring gender boundaries in children's
reading practices. The reading teacher, 55(4), 376-384.
Dwork, D., & Van Pelt, R.J. (2002). Holocaust: A history. New York: W.W. Norton. 286 Enciso, P. (1997). Negotiating the meaning of difference. In T. Rogers & A.O. Soter
(Eds.), Reading across cultures: Teaching literature in a diverse society (pp. 13-
41). New York: Teachers College Press and NCTE.
Engestrom, Y. (1999). Activity theory and individual and social transformation. In Y.
Engestrom, R. Miettinen, & R.L. Punamaki (Eds.), Perspectives on activity theory
(pp. 19-38). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Engestrom, Y., Miettinen, R., & Punamaki, R.-L. (1999). Perspectives on activity theory.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Epstein, T. (1998). Deconstructing differences in African-American and European-
American adolescents' perspectives on U.S. history. Curriculum inquiry, 28, 397-
423.
Ezrahi, S.D. (1992). "The grave in the air." In S. Friedlander (Ed.), Probing the limits of
representation: Nazism and the final solution. (pp. 259-276). Cambridge: Harvard
University Press.
FHAO. (1993). Project submission to the program effectiveness panel, US Department of
Education, January.
Fairclough, N. (1995). Critical discourse analysis: The critical study of language. New
York: Longman.
Felman, S., & Laub, D. (1992 ). Testimony: Crises of witnessing in literature,
psychoanalysis, and history. New York: Routledge.
Fine, M. (1995). Habits of mind. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. 287 Flanzbaum, H. (1999). The Americanization of the Holocaust. Baltimore, MD: Johns
Hopkins University Press.
Fogelman, E. (1994). Conscience and courage: The rescuers of the Jews during the
Holocaust. New York: Anchor Books.
Foner, E. (1998). The story of American freedom. New York: W.W. Norton.
Foss, L. (2001). Piano concertos no. 1 & no. 2: Elegy for Anne Frank [Sound recording].
France: Harmonia Mundi.
Frank, A. (1952). Anne Frank: The diary of a young girl. New York: Modern Library.
Frank, A. (1989). The diary of Anne Frank: The critical edition. New York: Doubleday.
Frank, A. (2001). The diary of a young girl: The definitive edition. New York:
Doubleday.
Friedlander, S. (1992). Probing the limits of representation. Cambridge, MA: Harvard
University Press.
Friese, H. (2001). Silence--voice--representation. In D. Stone (Ed.), Theoretical
interpretations of the Holocaust (pp. 147-167). Amsterdam: Rodopi.
Fromm, E. (1941/1969). Escape from freedom. New York: Avon.
Gee, J.P. (1996). Social linguistics and literacies: Ideology in discourses. New York:
Falmer.
Gee, J.P. (1997). Discourse analysis, learning, and social practice: A methodological
study. Review of research in education, 23, 119-169.
Gee, J.P. (1999). An introduction to discourse analysis: Theory and method. New York:
Routledge. 288 Geertz, C. (1972). Deep play: Notes on the Balinese cockfight. Dedalus, 101(1).
Geiss, S.A. (1997). Implementing Holocaust education curriculum to comply with
Florida legislation 233.061 at the middle school level. Master’s Final Report,
Nova Southeastern University, 1997. (ERIC Document Reproduction Service No.
ED 422215).
Gibson, M. (Director). (2004). The Passion of the Christ [Motion picture]. US:
Paramount Pictures.
Glynn, M.T., Bock, G., & Cohn, K.C. (1982). American youth and the Holocaust: A
study of four major Holocaust curricula. New York: National Jewish Resource
Center.
Goldhagen, D.J. (1997). Hitler's willing executioners: Ordinary Germans and the
Holocaust. New York: Vintage Books.
Goodrich, F., & Hackett, A. (1994). The diary of Anne Frank. In A.N. Applebee, et al.
(Eds.), McDougal, Littell literature and language, green level (pp. 495-568).
Evanston, IL: McDougal, Littell.
Gottlieb, R.S. (1990). Thinking the unthinkable, meaning of the Holocaust. Mahwah, NJ:
Paulist Press.
Graver, L. (1995). An obsession with Anne Frank: Meyer Levin and the diary. Berkeley:
University of California Press. 289 Gregory, I. (2000). The Holocaust: Some reflections and issues. In I. Davies (Ed.),
Teaching the Holocaust: Educational dimensions, principles and practice (pp. 37-
47). London: Continuum.
Gutierrez, K.D., & Rogoff, B. (2003). Cultural ways of learning: Individual traits or
repertoires of practice. Educational researcher, 32(5), 19-25.
Hellig, J. (2003). A short history: The Holocaust and antisemitism. Oxford: One World.
Hernandez, A.A. (2004). Voices of witness, messages of hope: Moral development theory
and transactional response in a literature-based Holocaust studies curriculum.
Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Ohio State University.
Hicks, D. (2002). Reading lives: Working-class children and literacy learning. New
York: Teachers College Press.
Hilberg, R. (1991). Opening remarks: The discovery of the Holocaust. In P. Hayes (Ed.),
Lessons and Legacies (p. 19).Evanston, IL: Northwestern University.
Hilberg, R. (2003). The destruction of the European Jews. New Haven, CT: Yale
University Press.
Hines, M.B. (1997). Multiplicity and difference in literary inquiry: Toward a conceptual
framework for reader-centered cultural criticism. In T. Rogers & A.O. Soter
(Eds.), Reading across cultures: Teaching literature in a diverse society (pp. 116-
132). New York: Teachers College Press and NCTE.
Hirsch , M., & Kacandes, I. (2004). Teaching the representation of the Holocaust. New
York: Modern Language Association. 290 Holland, D., Lachicotte, W., Skinner, D., & Cain, C. (1998). Identity and agency in
cultural worlds. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.: hooks, b. (1992). Black looks: Race and representation. Boston: South End Press. hooks, b. (1994). Teaching to transgress: Education as the practice of freedom. New
York: Routledge. hooks, b. (1996). Bone black: Memories of girlhood. New York: Henry Holt and
Company.
Iser, W. (1974). The implied reader: Patterns of communication in prose fiction from
Bunyan to Beckett. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins.
Ish-kishor, S. (1963). The boy of old Prague. New York: Scholastic Book Services,
Random House.
Janks, H. (2001). Identity and conflict in the critical literacy classroom. In B. Comber &
A. Simpson (Eds.), Negotiating critical literacies in classrooms (pp. 137-150).
Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.
Jones, S. (2004). Living poverty as a girl: Identity and critical literacy between social
classes. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of Cincinnati.
Jordan, S. (1997). Student responses to culturally diverse texts. In G. Cruz, S. Jordan, J.
Melendez, S. Ostrowski, & A.C. Purves (Eds.), Beyond the culture tours: Studies
in teaching and learning with culturally diverse texts (pp. 9-34). Mahwah, NJ:
Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.
Katz, S. (1994). The Holocaust in historical context. New York: Oxford University Press. 291 Kogan, N., & Downey, J.F. (1956). Scaling norm conflicts in prejudice and
discrimination. Journal of abnormal social psychology, 53, 292-295.
Kuehl, J. (Producer) & Darlow, M. (Director). (1993). The Final Solution
[Videorecording]. New York: HBO Video.
Lang, B. (2005). Post-Holocaust interpretation, misinterpretation, and the claims of
history. Bloomington: University of Indiana Press.
Langer, L. (1975). The Holocaust and the literary imagination. New Haven: Yale
University Press.
Langer, L. (1991). Holocaust testimonies: The ruins of memory. New Haven: Yale
University Press.
Lankshear, C., & McLaren, P.L. (1993). Introduction. In C. Lankshear & P.L. McLaren
(Eds.), Critical literacy: Politics, praxis, and the postmodern Albany: SUNY
Press.
Lave, J.&.W.E. (1991). Situated learning: Legitimate peripheral participation. New
York: Cambridge University Press.
Lawrence-Lightfoot, S.L., & Davis, J.H. (1997). The art and science of portraiture. San
Francisco: Jossey-Bass.
Lawrence-Lightfoot, S.L. (1983). The good high school: Portraits of character and
culture. New York: Basic Books.
Lawson, J. (Producer) & Hartley, P. (Director). (1986). The Anne Frank ballet
[Videorecording]. London: Prospect Studios. 292 Levi, P. (1996). Survival in Auschwitz : The Nazi assault on humanity. New York: Simon
& Schuster.
Levinson, D.J., & Nevitt, S. (1944). A scale for the measurement of anti-Semitism. The
journal of psychology, 17, 339-370.
Levstik, L. (1986). The relationship between historical response and narrative in a sixth-
grade classroom. Theory and research in social education, 28, 1-19.
Levstik, L. (1989). Historical narrative and the young reader. Theory in practice, 28, 114-
119.
Lewis, C. (1998). Literary interpretation as a social act. Journal of adolescent and adult
literacy, 42(3), 168-178.
Lewis, C., Ketter, J., & Fabos, B. (2001). Reading race in a rural context. Qualitative
studies in education, 14(3), 317-350.
Lieberman, M. (1981). Facing history and ourselves: A project evaluation. Moral
education forum, 6(2), 36-41.
Lieberman, M. (1986). Evaluation report 78680D to the joint dissemination review panel,
available from Facing History and Ourselves Resource Center, Brookline, MA.
Lifton, J. (1986). The Nazi doctors. New York: Basic Books.
Littell, F.H. (1997). First they came for the Jews. Christian ethics today, 9(3).
Lowry, L. (1989). Number the stars. Boston: Houghton Mifflin.
Luke, A. & Freebody, P. (1996). Critical literacy and the questions of normativity: An
introduction. In S. Muspratt, A. Luke, P. Freebody (Eds.), Constructing critical
literacies: Teaching and learning textual practice (pp. 1-13). 293 Maier, C. (1988). The unmasterable past: History, Holocaust, and German national
identity. Cambridge, MA: Cambridge University Press.
Manulis, J.B. & Gordon, M. (Producer), & Carter, T. (Director). (1993). Swing Kids
[Motion picture]. US: Hollywood Pictures.
McGinley, W., Kamberelis, G., Mahoney, T., Madigan, D., Rybicki, V., & Oliver, J.
(1997). Re-visioning reading and teaching literature through the lens of narrative
theory. In T. Rogers & A.O. Soter (Eds.), Reading across cultures: Teaching
literature in a diverse society (pp. 42-68). New York: Teachers College Press and
NCTE.
Melnick, R. (1997). The stolen legacy of Anne Frank: Meyer Levin, Lillian Hellman, and
the staging of the Diary. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.
Merriam, S.B. (1988). Case study research in education: A qualitative approach. San
Francisco: Jossey-Bass.
Moje, E.B., Dillon, D.R., & O'Brien, D. (2000). Reexamining roles of learner, text, and
context in secondary literacy. The journal of educational research, 93(3), 165-
180.
Morris, M. (2001). Curriculum and the Holocaust. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum
Associates, Publishers.
Muller, M. (1998). Anne Frank: The biography. (Trans.) R. & R. Kimber. New York:
Henry Holt & Company. 294 NCTE. (1993). Position statement on teacher about tolerance and genocide. Retrieved
June, 2004 from http://www.ncte.org/about/over/positions/category/
curr/107439.htm
Naidoo, B. (1989). Chain of fire. New York: Lippincott.
Nieto, S. (1994). Affirmation, solidarity, and critique: Moving beyond tolerance in
multicultural education. Multicultural education, 1(4), 35-38.
Novick, P. (1999). The Holocaust in American life. Boston: Houghton Mifflin.
Oliner, S.P., & Oliner, P.M. (1988). The altruistic personality: Rescuers of Jews in Nazi
Europe. New York: Free Press.
Oliner, S.P., & Oliner, P.M. (1988). The altruistic personality: Rescuers of Jews in Nazi
Europe. New York: Free Press.
Orfield, G. (2001). Schools more separate: Consequences of a decade of re-segregation.
Cambridge, MA: The Civil Rights Project, Harvard University.
Ostowski, S. (1997). Teaching multicultural literature. In G. Cruz, S. Jordan, J.
Melendez, S. Ostrowski, & A.C. Purves (Eds.), Beyond the culture tours: Studies
in teaching and learning with culturally diverse texts (pp. 47-68). Mahwah, NJ:
Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.
Ozick, C. (2000). Who owns Anne Frank? In Quarrel & quandary (pp. 74-102). New
York: Knopf.
Patton, M.Q. (2002). Qualitative research & evaluation methods, 3/e. Thousand Oaks,
CA: Sage Publication. 295 Penslar, D.J. (2005). Introduction. In D.J. Penslar, M.R. Marrus, & J.G. Stein (Eds.),
Contemporary antisemitism (pp. 3-11). Toronto: University of Toronto Press.
Poyas, Y. (2004). Exploring the horizons of the literature classroom--Reader response,
reception theories and classroom discourse. Educational studies in language and
literature, 4, 63-84.
Reichman, R. (2001). The myth of old forms: On the unknowable and representation. In
D. Stone (Ed.), Theoretical interpretations of the Holocaust (pp. 27-53).
Amsterdam: Rodopi.
Remarque, E.M. (1929). All quiet on the western front. London: Putnam.
Remmers, H.H. (1960). The Perdue master attitude scales. Lafayette, IN: Purdue
Research Foundation.
Renais, A. (1956/2003). Night and fog [Documentary]. US: Criterion Collection.
Rest, J. (1979). Development in judging moral issues. Minneapolis, MN: University of
Minnesota Press.
Ricoeur, P. (1984). Time and Narrative, Vol. I. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Ricoeur, P. (1988). Time and Narrative, Vol. III. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Rogers, R. (2004). An introduction to critical discourse analysis in education. Mahwah,
NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum.
Rogers, T., & Soter, A.O. (1997). Reading across cultures: Teaching literature in diverse
society. New York: Teachers College Press and NCTE.
Rose, M. (1989). Lives on the boundary. New York: Free Press.
Rosenbaum, A.S. (1996). Is the Holocaust unique? Boulder, CO: Westview Press. 296 Rosenblatt, L.M. (1978). The reader, the text, the poem. Carbondale, IL: Southern Illinois
University Press.
Rosenblatt, L.M. (1995). Literature as exploration. New York: Modern Language
Association.
Rosenfeld, A.H., & Greenberg, I. (1978). Confronting the Holocaust: The impact of Elie
Wiesel. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press.
Rosenzweig, R., & Thelen, D. (1998). The presence of the past: Popular uses of history
in American life. New York: Columbia University Press.
Rubenstein, R.L. (1978). The cunning of history. New York: Harper.
Rubenstein, R.L. (1995). Religion and uniqueness of the Holocaust. In A.S. Rosenbaum
(Ed.), Is the Holocaust unique? Perspectives on comparative genocide (pp. 11-
18). Boulder, CO: Westview Press.
Rubenstein, R.L. & Roth, J.K. (2003). God and history: Philosophical and religious
responses to the Holocaust. In Approaches to Auschwitz: The Holocaust and its
legacy (pp. 327-354). Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press.
Santayana, G. (1905). The life of reason. New York: Dover.
Schilling, D.G. (1996). The dead end of demonizing. In R. Millen (Ed.), New
perspectives on the Holocaust (pp. 196-211). New York: New York University
Press.
Schleunes, K. (1970). The twisted road to Auschwitz: Nazi policy toward German Jews
1933-1939. Urbana: University of Illinois Press. 297 Schultz, L.H., Barr, D.J., & Selman, R.L. (2001). The value of a developmental approach
to evaluating character development programmes: An outcome study of Facing
History and Ourselves. Journal of moral education, 30(1), 3-27.
Schweber, S.A., & Irwin, R. (2003). "Especially special": Learning about Jews in a
fundamentalist Christian school. Teachers college record, 105(9), 1693-1719.
Schweber, S.A. (1999). Teaching history, teaching morality: Holocaust education in
American public high schools. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, Stanford
University.
Schweber, S.A. (2004). Making sense of the Holocaust: Lessons from classroom practice.
New York: Teachers College Press.
Search Institute. (1996). The national learning through service survey. Minneapolis, MN:
Search Institute.
Sedlacek, W.E. (1996). An empirical method of determining nontraditional group status.
Measurement & Evaluation in counseling and development, 28(4), 200-301.
Sedlacek, W.E., & Brooks, G.C. (1970). Measuring racial attitudes in a situational
context. Psychological reports, 27, 971-880.
Seidman, N. (1996). Elie Wiesel and the scandal of Jewish rage. Jewish social studies, 3,
1-19.
Seixas, P. (2000). Schwiegen! die kinder! or does postmodern history have a place in the
school? In P.N. Sterns, P. Seixas, & S. Wineburg (Eds.), Knowing, teaching, and
learning history: National and international perspectives (pp. 20-37). New York:
New York University Press. 298 Sender, R.M. (1988). The cage. New York: Bantam Books.
Short, G. (1994). Teaching the Holocaust: The relevance of children's perceptions of
Jewish culture and identity. British educational research journal, 20(4), 393-406.
Short, G. (1997). Learning through literature: Historical fiction, autobiography, and the
Holocaust. Children's literature, 28(4), 189-190.
Short, G. (2000). Holocaust education in Ontario high schools: An antidote to racism?
Cambridge journal of education, 30(2), 291-305.
Sidanius J., Pratto, F., Martin, M., & Stallworth L. M. (1976). Consensual racism and
career track: Some implications of social dominance theory. Political psychology,
12, 691-721.
Simon, R.I., Rosenberg, S., & Eppert, C. (2000). Between hope & despair. Lanham, MD:
Rowman & Littlefield Publishers.
Singer, J.Y., & Smith, S.A. (2003). The potential of multicultural literature: Changing
understanding of self and others. Multicultural perspectives, 5(2), 17-23.
Soulen, K.R. (1996). The God of Israel and Christian theology. Minneapolis, MN:
Fortress Press.
Spears-Bunton, L. (1992). Literature, literacy, and resistance to cultural domination. In C.
Kinzer & D. Leu (Eds.), Yearbook of the National Reading Conference: Vol. 41
Literacy research, theory, and practice: Views from many perspectives
Alexandria, VA: National Reading Conference.
Spector, K. (2003). Learning with your pants down: Working class young men transition
to college. Paper presented at the annual meeting of QUIG. 299 Spiegelman, A. (1991). Maus II: A survivor's tale: And here my troubles began. New
York: Pantheon Books.
Spielberg, S. (Director). (1993). Schindler's List [Motion picture]. US: Universal Studios.
Squire, J.R. (1963). The responses of adolescents to four short stories. Urbana, IL:
NCTE.
State of Florida. (2004). Florida Statute 1003.42. Retrieved May 14, 2004 from
http://www.flsenate.gov/Statutes/
Stern-Strom, M., & Parsons, W.S. (1982). Facing History and Ourselves. Boston:
International Education, Inc.
Stone, D. (2003). Constructing the Holocaust: A study in historiography. London:
Vallentine Mitchell.
Stotsky, S. (1996). Is the Holocaust the chief contribution of the Jewish people to world
civilization and history?: A survey of leading literature anthologies and reading
instructional textbooks. English journal, 85, 52-59.
Stotsky, S. (1999). Academic and pedagogical issues in teaching the Holocaust. In C.
Danks & L.B. Rabinsky (Eds.), Teaching for a tolerant world (pp. 194-217).
Urbana, IL: NCTE.
Strauss, A.L., & Corbin, J. (1990). Basics of qualitative research: Grounded theory
procedures and techniques. Newbury Park, CA: Sage.
Survivors of the Shoah Visual History Foundation. (2004). Home page. Retrieved May 1,
2004 from www.vhf.org 300 Temple, F. (1994). Taste of salt. New York: Harper Trophy. ten Boom, C. (1984). The hiding place. New York: Bantam Books.
The Holocaust Memorial Resource and Education Center of Central Florida. (2002).
Holocaust Education: The Florida Legislative Mandate. Retrieved 2003 from
http://www.holocaustedu.org/education/index.htm
Totten, S. (1991). Introduction. In S. Totten (Ed.), First-person accounts of genocidal
acts committed in the twentieth century: An annotated bibliography (p. xi-
lxxv).Westport, CT: Greenwood Press.
Totten, S. (2001a). Holocaust education: Issues and approaches. Boston: Allyn and
Bacon.
Totten, S. (2001b). Teaching Holocaust literature. Boston: Allyn and Bacon.
Totten, S., & Feinberg, S. (2001). Teaching and studying the Holocaust. Boston: Allyn
and Bacon.
University of Cincinnati Evaluation Services Center. (2003). An assessment of Holocaust
education in Ohio, Indiana, and Kentucky. Cincinnati: University of Cincinnati
Evaluation Services Center.
USHMM. (2004). State profiles of Holocaust education: United States Holocaust
Memorial Museum: Beyond our walls. Retrieved 2004 from http://www.ushmm.
org/education/foreducators/index.php?content=states/
VanMaanen, J. (1988). Tales of the field. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
VanSledright, B.A. (2002). Fifth graders investigating history in the classroom: Results
from a researcher-practitioner design experiment. Elementary school journal, 102, 301 131-160.
Vinz, R., Gordon, E., Hamilton, G., LaMontagne, J., & Lundgren, B. (2000). Becoming
(other)wise: Enhancing critical reading perspectives. Portland, ME: Calendar
Island Publishers.
Vygotsky, L.S. (1978). Mind in society. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Waite, R. (1977). The psychopathic god: Adolph Hitler. New York: Basic.
Walkerdine, V. (1990). Schoolgirl fictions. London: Verso.
Warwick, K., Lythgoe, N., Fuller, S., Frot-Coutaz, C., Jones, S.P., & Fuller, S.C.
(Producer) & (2004). American Idol [Television series]. New York: FOX.
Webster, J.W. (2001). Effects of ninth graders' culture-specific schemata on responses to
multicultural literature. Educational research, 95(1), 12-26.
Wegner, G. (1996). What lessons are there from the holocaust? Journal of curriculum
and instruction, 13, 167-184.
Weiss, A.A. (2004). Questioning key texts: A pedagogical approach to teaching Elie
Wiesel’s Night. In M. Hirsch & I. Kacandes (Eds.) Teaching the representation of
the Holocaust (pp.324-336). New York: Modern Language Association.
Weissman, G. (2004). Fantasies of witnessing: Postwar efforts to experience the
Holocaust. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.
Wertsch, J.V. (1998). Mind as action. New York: Oxford University Press.
Wertsch, J.V. (2002). Voices of collective remembering. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press. 302 White, H. (1981). The value of narrativity in the representation of reality. In W.J.T.
Mitchell (Ed.), On narrative (pp. 1-23). Chicago: University of Chicago.
White, H. (1992). Historical emplotment and the problem of truth. In S. Friedlander
(Ed.), Probing the limits of representation: Nazism and the final solution (pp. 37-
53). Cambridge: MA: Harvard University Press.
White, H. (1999). History as fulfillment. Paper presented at the annual meeting of
Interdisciplinary Scholars Network.
Wiesel, E. (1978). Why I write. In A.H. Rosenfeld & I. Greenberg (Eds.), Confronting
the Holocaust: The impact of Elie Wiesel. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University
Press.
Wiesel, E. (1982). Night. New York: Bantam.
Wiesenthal, S. (1997). The sunflower: On the possibilities and limits of forgiveness. New
York: Schocken.
Willis, P. (1977). Learning to labor. New York: Columbia University Press.
Wittgenstein, L. (1967). Philosophical investigations. Oxford: Anscombe.
Woodson, J. (1995). From the notebooks of Melanin Sun. New York: Blue
Sky/Scholastic.
Wordsworth, W. (1974). Essays upon epitaphs III. In W.J.B. Owen, O. Smyser, & J.W.
Smyser (Eds.), The prose works of William Wordsworth. Oxford: Clarendon.
Yin, T. (2004, April). The Yin blog. Retrieved March 11, 2005 from http://yin.typepad.
com/the_yin_blog/2004/04/ 303 Zamora, L.P. (1998). The usable past: The imagination of history in recent fiction of the
Americas. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 304 Appendices
Appendix 3-A
Consent Form for Teachers Research Project on Holocaust Units in English Classes
For questions about this study, contact: Karen Spector, Doctoral Student, University of Cincinnati College of Education 2960 Socialville-Foster Road Maineville, OH 45039 513-336-0901
Introduction: Before agreeing to participate in this study, it is important that the following explanation of proposed procedures be read and understood. It describes the purpose, procedures, risks, and benefits of the study. It also describes the right to withdraw from the study at any time. It is important to understand that no guarantee or assurance can be made as to the results of the study.
Purpose: I am researching the teaching and learning of Holocaust literature. I would like to find out if studying the Holocaust increases tolerant attitudes in students.
Procedures: I will need to collect data in your classroom. I will be visiting the classroom at least two days per week. Each time I come, I will audiotape the class session. I will also videotape important classroom discussions. I will collect copies of all handouts and student writing. I will also ask your students complete two surveys. The surveys will ask about their existing knowledge of Jews and the Holocaust and their beliefs about racial issues. The surveys will take place during class time. I will also interview you at least two times for about an hour each time.
Participation: You do not have to agree to be in this study. You have the right to leave the study at any time. There is no penalty for withdrawal from the study. You have the right to refuse to answer questions. Your privacy will be maintained in all published and written data resulting from this study.
Risks and Benefits: I know of no risks in joining this study. You will not be paid for joining the study.
Duration: The length of the Holocaust unit.
Confidentiality: I must to respect your privacy. Your name, the name of your school, and the names of your students will be shielded in anything I publish or discuss.
Legal Rights: Nothing in this consent form waives any legal right you may have. It does not release the researcher, the institution, or its agents from liability for negligence.
If you have any questions about your rights as a study participant, contact the IRB at the University of Cincinnati: Margaret Miller, Ed.D., 558-5212, [email protected] . My faculty 305 advisor is Dr. Chet Laine, Ph.D., 556-3588, [email protected].
I HAVE READ THE INFORMATION PROVIDED ABOVE. I VOLUNTARILY AGREE TO PARTICIPATE IN THIS STUDY. I WILL KEEP THE EXTRA COPY OF THIS CONSENT FORM FOR MY INFORMATION. Name (please print):______
Signature:______Date:______306 Appendix 3-B Consent Packet Sample Recruitment Letter
Dear Students and Parents,
My name is Karen Spector, and I am a doctoral student at the University of Cincinnati. I am researching the teaching and learning of Holocaust literature in secondary classrooms located in the greater Cincinnati area. I want to conduct research in Ms. France’s class during the upcoming Holocaust unit. The purpose of my research is to provide valuable case studies, so researchers like me can better understand what learning occurs over the course of one unit. This research will potentially help other teachers plan and enact Holocaust literature units in their own schools. In order to get the data needed, I will be audiotaping and sometimes videotaping the class. I will also ask students to complete two surveys before and after the unit. Additionally, I will collect copies of all classroom handouts and of student writing. If the child agrees and the parent gives consent, then you each need to read and sign the forms attached and return them to the English teacher or me. If your child does not want to participate, or if you do not want your child to participate, you need not return the forms at all. If you do not want your child to participate, I will not include any of your child’s work or talk in my data, even though he or she will be participating in the class. I will also need to conduct two thirty minute, individual interviews with approximately six students in the study. Students usually enjoy the interview process, but I can’t be assured that your child will. I will be asking questions about school and their knowledge of the Holocaust. If the child agrees and the parent gives consent for the interview, then you both need to read and sign the Interview Assent and Consent forms (attached) and return them to the English teacher or me. If your child does not want to participate, or if you do not want your child to participate, you need not return the forms at all. I may write about my findings in books or journals. I may also present my findings at conferences. In all circumstances, the names of the school, teacher, and students will be shielded. I will use pseudonyms selected by the students themselves. You should also know that the child or parent can withdraw participation at any time, for any reason, without penalty. This study in NO WAY influences the child’s grade for the class. If you have questions about this study, please feel free to e-mail me or call me.
Sincerely,
Karen Spector 513-336-0901 [email protected] 307 Appendix 3-B Study Assent Form for Students Research Project on Holocaust Units in English Classes
For questions about this study, contact: Karen Spector, Doctoral Student, University of Cincinnati College of Education 2960 Socialville-Foster Road Maineville, OH 45039 513-336-0901
Introduction: Before agreeing to participate in this study, it is important that the following explanation of proposed procedures be read and understood. It describes the purpose, procedures, risks, and benefits of the study. It also describes the right to withdraw from the study at any time. It is important to understand that no guarantee or assurance can be made as to the results of the study.
Purpose: I am researching the teaching and learning of Holocaust literature. I would like to find out what Holocaust units look like and how students respond to them.
Procedures: I will need to collect data in your classroom. I will be visiting the classroom at least two days per week. Each time I come, I will audiotape the class session. I will also videotape important classroom discussions. I will collect copies of all handouts, student writing, and student projects. I will also ask you to complete two surveys. The survey will ask about your existing knowledge of Jews and the Holocaust and your beliefs about racial issues. The survey will take place during class time. I may interview you at least once for 30 minutes. Interviews will take place during non-instructional times. I may show video at professional conferences or during classes I teach.
Participation: You do not have to agree to be in this study even if your parent gives you permission. You have the right to leave the study at any time. There is no penalty for withdrawal from the study. You have the right to refuse to answer questions. Your name will be changed in all published and written data resulting from this study.
Risks and Benefits: I know of no risks in joining this study. You will not be paid for joining the study.
Duration: The length of the Holocaust unit, plus any additional time needed to conduct interviews.
Confidentiality: I must to respect your privacy. Your name, the name of your school, and the name of your teacher will be shielded in anything I publish or discuss.
Legal Rights: Nothing in this consent form waives any legal right you may have. It does not release the researcher, the institution, or its agents from liability for negligence.
If you have any questions about your rights as a study participant, contact the IRB at the University of Cincinnati: Margaret Miller, Ed.D., 558-5212, [email protected] . My faculty advisor is Dr. Chet Laine, Ph.D., 556-3588, [email protected]. 308 I HAVE READ THE INFORMATION PROVIDED ABOVE. I VOLUNTARILY AGREE TO PARTICIPATE IN THIS STUDY. I WILL KEEP THE EXTRA COPY OF THIS CONSENT FORM FOR MY INFORMATION.
Student Name (please print):______
Signature:______Date:______
Parent/Guardian Name (please print):______
Signature:______Date:______
309 Appendix 3-B
Study Consent Form for Parents Research Project on Holocaust Units in English Classes
For questions about this study, contact: Karen Spector, Doctoral Student, University of Cincinnati College of Education 2960 Socialville-Foster Road Maineville, OH 45039 513-336-0901
Introduction: Before agreeing to participate in this study, it is important that the following explanation of proposed procedures be read and understood. It describes the purpose, procedures, risks, and benefits of the study. It also describes the right to withdraw from the study at any time. It is important to understand that no guarantee or assurance can be made as to the results of the study. Purpose: I am researching the teaching and learning of Holocaust literature. I would like to find out what Holocaust units look like and how students respond to them.
Procedures: I will need to collect data in your child’s classroom. I will be visiting the classroom at least two days per week. Each time I come, I will audiotape the class session. I will also videotape important classroom discussions. I will collect copies of all handouts and student writing. I will also ask your child to complete a few surveys. One survey will ask about your child’s background and his or her beliefs about racism. Another survey will ask about your child’s existing knowledge of Jews and the Holocaust. All of the surveys will take place during class time.
Participation: You do not have to agree to let your child be in this study. You have the right to leave the study at any time. There is no penalty for withdrawal from the study. Your child has the right to refuse to answer questions. Your privacy will be maintained in all published and written data resulting from this study.
Risks and Benefits: I know of no risks in joining this study. Your child will not be paid for joining the study.
Duration: The length of the Holocaust unit. Confidentiality: I must to respect your privacy. Your child’s name, the name of the school, and the name of the teacher will be shielded in anything I publish or discuss.
Legal Rights: Nothing in this consent form waives any legal right you may have. It does not release the researcher, the institution, or its agents from liability for negligence.
If you have any questions about your rights as a study participant, contact the IRB at the University of Cincinnati: Margaret Miller, Ed.D., 558-5212, [email protected] . My faculty advisor is Dr. Chet Laine, Ph.D., 556-3588, [email protected].
I HAVE READ THE INFORMATION PROVIDED ABOVE. I VOLUNTARILY AGREE TO PARTICIPATE IN THIS STUDY. I WILL KEEP THE EXTRA COPY OF THIS CONSENT 310 FORM FOR MY INFORMATION. Name (please print):______
Signature:______Date:______311 Appendix 3-B
Interview Assent Form for Students Research Project on Holocaust Units in English Classes
For questions about this study, contact: Karen Spector, Doctoral Student, University of Cincinnati College of Education 2960 Socialville-Foster Road Maineville, OH 45039 513-336-0901
Introduction: Before agreeing to participate in this study, it is important that the following explanation of proposed procedures be read and understood. It describes the purpose, procedures, risks, and benefits of the study. It also describes the right to withdraw from the study at any time. It is important to understand that no guarantee or assurance can be made as to the results of the study.
Purpose: I am researching the teaching and learning of Holocaust literature. I would like to find out what Holocaust units look like and how students respond to them.
Procedures: I will interview you two times. Each interview will last for approximately 30 minutes. All interviews will be held on school grounds. The interviews will take place during non-instructional times. Participation: You do not have to agree to be interviewed. You have the right to leave the study at any time. There is no penalty for withdrawal from the study. You have the right to refuse to answer questions. Your privacy will be maintained in all published and written data resulting from this study.
Risks and Benefits: I know of no risks in joining this study. You will not be paid for joining the study.
Duration: Two interviews of approximately 30 minutes each.
Confidentiality: I must to respect your privacy. Your name, the name of the school, and the name of the teacher will be shielded in anything I publish or discuss.
Legal Rights: Nothing in this consent form waives any legal right you may have. It does not release the researcher, the institution, or its agents from liability for negligence.
If you have any questions about your rights as a study participant, contact the IRB at the University of Cincinnati: Margaret Miller, Ed.D., 558-5212, [email protected] . My faculty advisor is Dr. Chet Laine, Ph.D., 556-3588, [email protected]. I HAVE READ THE INFORMATION PROVIDED ABOVE. I VOLUNTARILY AGREE TO PARTICIPATE IN THIS STUDY. I WILL KEEP THE EXTRA COPY OF THIS CONSENT FORM FOR MY INFORMATION.
Name (please print):______
312 Student Signature:______Date:______
Parent/Guardian Signature:______Date:______313 Appendix 3-B
Interview Consent Form for Parents Research Project on Holocaust Units in English Classes
For questions about this study, contact: Karen Spector, Doctoral Student, University of Cincinnati College of Education 2960 Socialville-Foster Road Maineville, OH 45039 513-336-0901
Introduction: Before agreeing to participate in this study, it is important that the following explanation of proposed procedures be read and understood. It describes the purpose, procedures, risks, and benefits of the study. It also describes the right to withdraw from the study at any time. It is important to understand that no guarantee or assurance can be made as to the results of the study.
Purpose: I am researching the teaching and learning of Holocaust literature. I would like to find out what Holocaust units look like and how students respond to them.
Procedures: I will interview your child two times. Each interview will last for approximately 30 minutes. All interviews will be held on school grounds. The interviews will take place during non-instructional times. Participation: You do not have to agree to allow your child to be interviewed. You have the right to leave the study at any time. There is no penalty for withdrawal from the study. Your child has the right to refuse to answer questions. Your child’s privacy will be maintained in all published and written data resulting from this study.
Risks and Benefits: I know of no risks in joining this study. Your child will not be paid for joining the study.
Duration: Two interviews of approximately 30 minutes each.
Confidentiality: I must to respect your privacy. Your child’s name, the name of the school, and the name of the teacher will be shielded in anything I publish or discuss.
Legal Rights: Nothing in this consent form waives any legal right you may have. It does not release the researcher, the institution, or its agents from liability for negligence.
If you have any questions about your rights as a study participant, contact the IRB at the University of Cincinnati: Margaret Miller, Ed.D., 558-5212, [email protected] . My faculty advisor is Dr. Chet Laine, Ph.D., 556-3588, [email protected]. I HAVE READ THE INFORMATION PROVIDED ABOVE. I VOLUNTARILY AGREE TO PARTICIPATE IN THIS STUDY. I WILL KEEP THE EXTRA COPY OF THIS CONSENT FORM FOR MY INFORMATION.
Name (please print):______Signature:______Date:______314 Appendix 3-B
Sample Social Situations Survey
Introduction: Below is a sample of a survey I would like you to complete for the research study on Holocaust literature. If you do not agree to take the survey, simply do not return the form. If you would like to take the survey, you will need to get the permission of your parent/guardian. Please read over the survey carefully.
Do not put your name on this survey. Please answer the following questions as fully and as honestly as possible. This survey will not be part of your grade. You may refuse to answer any and all questions. Thanks in advance for your help.
Background 1. Please circle your gender: Female Male
2. What is your race/ethnicity? (examples: White, African-American, Hispanic,
Asian, Mixed Heritage)?______
3. What religion do you practice, if any?______
4. Have you had any other racial tolerance training?______
If so, when and where?______
Scenarios
You are walking down the hall at school and you notice that two students you don’t know are picking on another student who is in your first period class. The student being picked on is not a friend, just someone you are acquainted with. 5. Could you imagine this happening in your school? Yes No 6.. Explain what you would probably think and do if you were in this situation.
You are in a group of friends having a good time, and someone tells a joke that makes fun of African Americans or some other minority. 7. Could you imagine this happening in your community? Yes No 315 8. Explain what you would probably think and do if you were in this situation.
Besides the eight items I have included in this sample survey, the child will also be asked to write answers to three other scenarios that deal with race or ethnic relations. There will only be eleven items on this survey. I have provided you with the first eight. To request the entire survey before signing, please call me at 336-0901, e-mail me at [email protected], or send a note into school with your child.
If you have any questions about your rights as a study participant, contact the IRB at the University of Cincinnati: Margaret Miller, Ed.D., 558-5212, [email protected] . My faculty advisor is Dr. Chet Laine, Ph.D., 556-3588, [email protected].
I HAVE READ THE INFORMATION PROVIDED ABOVE. I VOLUNTARILY AGREE TO PARTICIPATE IN THIS SURVEY. Please note, students do not have to participate even if a parent/guardian grants them permission to do so.
Student Name (please print):______
Signature:______Date:______
Parent/Legal Guardian (please print):______
Signature:______Date:______
316 Appendix 3-B Sample Survey of Holocaust Knowledge
Introduction: Below is a sample of a survey I would like you to complete for the research study on Holocaust literature. If you do not agree to take the survey, simply do not return the form. If you would like to take the survey, you will need to get the permission of your parent/guardian. Please read over the survey carefully.
Do not put your name on this survey. This survey will not be part of your grade. Your teacher will not see your answers to these questions. You may refuse to answer any and all questions. This survey is intended to find out how much you know about the Holocaust. Thanks in advance for your help.
1. Have you studied the Holocaust before? Circle one: YES NO
2. If so, where?______
3. If so, when?______
4. On a scale of 1-10, how much do you know about the Holocaust already? Circle the number below:
Little Knowledge 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 Expert Knowledge
Each of the pictures below deals with some aspect of the Holocaust. After looking at the picture, please explain in sentences what you think is going on in the picture. What aspect of the Holocaust does this depict? Why is this important, if it is? If you don’t know, just leave it blank.
[Unfortunately, I can’t show the picture that appeared here because I was unable to obtain permission to do so. The image was originally obtained from the USHMM website and depicted the execution of Soviet citizens who stood in front of a mass grave. FOR REPRODUCTIONS AND RIGHTS CONTACT: Russian State Archives of Film and Photo Documents ul. Rechnaya 1, Moskovskaya Oblast, 143400, Krasnogorsk, Russia. Tel: 011-7-095-562-14-64 or (63). Ms. Yelena Konstantinovna Kolikova]
Besides the one picture on this sample survey, the child will be asked to describe four more. The others DO NOT contain pictures of starving people or dead bodies. If you would like to see ALL of the pictures before you agree to this survey, you have the right to do so. There will only be nine items on this survey. I have provided you with the first five. To request the entire survey before signing, please call me at 336-0901, e-mail me at [email protected], or send a note into school with your child.
If you have any questions about your rights as a study participant, contact the IRB at the 317 University of Cincinnati: Margaret Miller, Ed.D., 558-5212, [email protected] . My faculty advisor is Dr. Chet Laine, Ph.D., 556-3588, [email protected].
I HAVE READ THE INFORMATION PROVIDED ABOVE. I VOLUNTARILY AGREE TO PARTICIPATE IN THIS STUDY. Please note, students do not have to participate even if a parent/guardian grants them permission to do so.
Student Name (please print):______
Signature:______Date:______
Parent/Guardian Name (please print):______
Signature:______Date:______318 Appendix 3-C
Sample Teacher Interview Questions
1. How long have you been teaching?
2. Describe your teaching philosophy?
3. How did you get interested in teaching about the Holocaust?
4. What do you hope your students will learn from this unit?
5. How long have you been teaching this unit?
6. Has your teaching of this unit changed over time?
7. How has this unit been received by others in the school?
8. How is your approach to this content the same as your approach to other content?
9. How is it different?
10. What accounts for this difference?
11. Do you use a specific curriculum? Do you adapt it in any way?
12. What is your impression of Jews in general?
13. Do you think something like the Holocaust could ever happen in the U.S.? Under
what conditions?
14. Do you think the Holocaust is a unique event?
15. Why do you think that there is Holocaust revisionism?
16. Do you think it is okay for fictionalized accounts of the Holocaust to be written?
17. What role do you think anti-Semitism played in the Holocaust?
18. What do you think of the role of Christians during the Holocaust?
19. Do you think anti-Semitism exists in the world today? 319 Appendix 3-D
Sample Student Interview Questions
1. Please describe yourself.
2. Do you like school?
3. What is your grade in English at this point?
4. Would you recommend this course to a friend? Why?
5. Do you engage in discussions and/or debates about important issues? What
issues?
6. Do you like to read?
7. Can books change the way you think about life? If so, how? If not, why not?
8. Why do you think they teach literature in school?
9. Does literature, or anything you learn in English, relate to the world outside of
school?
10. Have you ever learned about the Holocaust before? If so, what and when?
11. What is tolerance?
12. How would you describe a tolerant person?
13. Do you admire tolerant people?
14. On a scale of one to ten, one being the lowest, how would you rate your
knowledge of the Holocaust?
15. What is Judaism? Do you know any Jews? What is your impression of Jews?
16. What concerns do you have about the subject matter of this Holocaust unit?
320 Appendix 3-E
One version of the Survey of Holocaust Knowledge
Do not put your name on this survey. This survey will not be part of your grade. You may refuse to answer any and all questions. Thanks in advance for your help. This survey is intended to find out how much you know about the Holocaust.
5. Have you studied the Holocaust before? Circle one: YES NO
6. If so, where?______
7. If so, when?______
8. On a scale of 1-10, how much do you know about the Holocaust already? Circle the number below:
Little Knowledge 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 Expert Knowledge
Each of the pictures below deals with some aspect of the Holocaust. After looking at the picture, please explain in sentences what you think is going on in the picture. What aspect of the Holocaust does this depict? Why is this important, if it is? If you don’t know, just leave it blank.
321 1.
Date: After Jan 1945 Locale: Auschwitz, [Upper Silesia] Poland Credit: USHMM, courtesy of Lydia Chagoll Copyright: USHMM
322
2.
Jewish resistance fighters captured by SS troops during the Warsaw ghetto uprising. Warsaw, Poland, April 19-May 16, 1943. Credit and copyright: USHMM
323
4.
Photograph was taken July 1, 1945. Credit: USHMM, courtesy of National Archives, Public Domain.
324
5.
Polish policeman supervising Jews being deported from the Krakow ghetto (probably 1942). Credit: USHMM, courtesy of Archiwum Panstwowe w Krakowie. Copyright: Public Domain.
325
6.
Date: Apr 29, 1945 Locale: Dachau, [Bavaria] Germany Photographer: Horace Abrahams Credit: USHMM, courtesy of National Archives Copyright: Public Domain 326
7.
Date: Apr 29, 1945 Locale: Gruenwald, Germany Photographer: Fritz Melbach Credit: USHMM, courtesy of KZ Gedenkstaette Dachau Copyright: Public Domain 327 Appendix 3-F
Social Situations Survey
Do not put your name on this survey. Please answer the following questions as fully and as honestly as possible. This survey will not be part of your grade. You may refuse to answer any and all questions. Thanks in advance for your help.
Background 5. Please circle your gender: Female Male
6. What is your race/ethnicity? (examples: White, African-American, Hispanic,
Asian, Mixed Heritage)?______
7. What religion do you practice, if any?______
8. Have you had any other racial tolerance training?______
If so, when and where?______
Scenarios
You are walking down the hall at school and you notice that two students you don’t know are picking on another student who is in your first period class. The student being picked on is not a friend, just someone you are acquainted with. 5. Could you imagine this happening in your school? Yes No
6.. Explain what you would probably think and do if you were in this situation.
You are in a group of friends having a good time, and someone tells a joke that makes fun of African Americans or some other minority. 7. Could you imagine this happening in your community? Yes No
8. Explain what you would probably think and do if you were in this situation.
328
A new Jewish student enrolls in your school. Like most Orthodox Jews, he wears a skullcap on his head every day. 9. Could you imagine this happening in your community? Yes No
10. What would you think of this practice? How would you react to this Jewish person?
A group of African Americans is staging a protest for equal treatment at your school. 11. Could you imagine this happening in your community? Yes No
12. What do you think about the protest? How would you react to this group of African Americans?
A Muslim student at your school complains to the principal because she wants to be able to leave class for afternoon prayer time. 13. Could you imagine this happening in your community? Yes No
14. What do you think of his situation? How would you react to this Muslim person?
Your best friend begins dating a Jew. 329 15. Could you imagine this happening in your community? Yes No
16. What do you think about this situation? How would you react to your friend?
330 Appendix 3-G Adams High School 2-11-04 Interview with Lenore
Karen I wanted to ask you some questions about these pictures.
Lenore Okay.
Karen And they are all related to the Holocaust in some way. What I want you to do is figure out what is going on in the picture based upon your knowledge of the Holocaust. Here is picture #1.
[I don’t have permission to show this photograph.]
Lenore Um, that looks like. I forget what it’s called, but what they had the Jews do is they lined up and they’d dig the big graves and then they’d shot them and they would all fall in.
Karen Okay.
Lenore I forget what that is called because I remember seeing someone do their research report on that.
Karen Were you thinking of the word “Einsatzgruppen”?
Lenore Ah, no.
Karen Were you thinking of “mass graves”?
Lenore Yeah. That’s it! Mass graves.
Karen Okay. Cool. Picture #2?
331
Jewish resistance fighters captured by SS troops during the Warsaw ghetto uprising. Warsaw, Poland, April 19-May 16, 1943. Copyright: USHMM.
Lenore Um. This one. It doesn’t look like they are in a concentration camp. It kinda just looks like they got held up by Nazis. They were just walking and the Nazis just stopped them.
Karen Okay. Why doesn’t that look like the concentration camp to you?
Lenore Because they’re in good clothes and they aren’t starving. They don’t look like they are starving.
Karen Okay. So where do you think that would be [picture #2].
Lenore In Germany I guess. I don’t know.
332 Karen Okay. This is the same place as this [#3 is the same place as #4]. Do you see any difference between what’s going on in the two pictures? Lenore Yeah. In #2 they are, um, being stopped. And in the #3 they are leaving. Like, it looks like they’ve already taken them back and told them to get some stuff. Because they are heading to a concentration camp.
Karen Okay. #4?
Date: Circa 1938 Locale: Germany Credit: USHMM, courtesy of Library of Congress Copyright: Public Domain
Lenore Um, I’m guessing that this represents Hitler taking over the world. And like, I don’t know.
Karen Okay. That’s okay not to know. #5?
333
Date: After Jan 1945 Locale: Auschwitz, [Upper Silesia] Poland Credit: USHMM, courtesy of Lydia Chagoll Copyright: USHMM
Lenore Are those shoes?
Karen Some are shoes and some are clothing. This is a pile of shoes and this is a pile of clothes.
Lenore Okay. Um, I guess, when they killed the Jews they took off their clothes to use them for the other Jews. I guess they just piled them up there. And some people actually could go in there and pick them. But I don’t actually think many Jews had a choice. The often had mismatched shoes—one tiny one and one big one.
Karen Yeah. Okay. What about #6?
334
Photograph was taken July 1, 1945. Credit: USHMM, courtesy of National Archives, Public Domain.
Lenore Um, it kind of looks like a crematory, but I’m not sure. I’ve never seen a picture of one.
Karen Okay. So what makes you think that?
Lenore It looks kinda like a pizza oven like you put it in with a big pan. It kinda looks like that.
Karen Okay. #7?
335
Date: Aug 1941 Locale: Zrenjanin, [Serbia; Vojvodina] Yugoslavia Credit: USHMM, courtesy of Muzej Revolucije Narodnosti Jugoslavije Copyright: Public Domain
Lenore That one either looks like they are going into the concentration or they are just coming out of it. But I don’t think they’d have that luggage if they were coming out of it. So I think like it looks like they are going in.
Karen Was there any place in between their homes and the concentration camps, generally?
Lenore Um, I think they had, I think they were all Jewish cities. And they were like all enclosed with barbed wire.
Karen Are you thinking of ghettos?
Lenore Ghettos. Yeah, that’s it. Ghettos.
Karen So would you say in that photo that they are going into a concentration camp or going into a ghetto?
Lenore Ghetto probably. Yeah ghetto. Going into a ghetto.
Karen And that is based on?
336 Lenore What they have. Like, their luggage. I don’t think they would be able to bring it. If they did bring stuff, they would just dump it. And they would take it away from them.
Karen And what about the last one?
Date: May 1945 Locale: Dachau, [Bavaria] Germany Photographer: Colonel Alexander Zabin Credit: USHMM, courtesy of Colonel Alexander Zabin Copyright: USHMM
Lenore Um, they took them on trains to the ghettos and the concentration camps. And they were really crowded and a whole bunch of people died because they just didn’t let them have food or do anything like that. So that’s probably. They had probably already gotten out and left, but these ones couldn’t get out because they are dead.
Karen Gotcha. 337 Appendix 3-H 1 discourse (Gee, 1996) 2 BGK of what the words mean 3 mood of the verb (must, may, can, should) What are the microlinguistic aspects of 4 transitivity this text? 5 action 6 affect 7state of being 8 cognitive statements 9 pronoun use (we, they, us, them, you) 10 othering 11 affinity group 12 shifts 13 thematic structure 14 Ways of interacting (Fairclough, 1995; Rogers, 2004) 15 BGK of language use 16 labeling 17 turn taking 18 disagreeing How is the text produced? 19 interdiscursivity (voicing, referring to text, referring Who/what is referred to in the text? 20 recurring activities What kinds of activities are going on? 21 journal writing 22 class discussion 23 small group discussion 24 study guides 25 questioning 26 joking/humor 27 topic shift 28 responding 29 defending 30 gestures 31 going along 32 probing 33 asserting 34 sarcasm 33 hedges and hesitations 35 transforming 36 mode of delivery
338 44 Discourse (Gee, 1996) 45 background knowledge of the situation, world 46 youth identity What voices/perspectives are 47 Freaks, invoked or attributed represented? 48 Jocks, invoked or attributed 49 Unpopular (Nordamns, lames, uglies, fatsos) 50 Cheerleaders, invoked or attributed 51 Gifted kids, invoked or attributed 52 Student, invoked or attributed 53 Teacher, invoked or attributed 54 Researcher, invoked or attributed 55 Administrator, invoked or attributed 56 Whites, invoked or attributed 57 Police, invoked or attributed 58 Blacks, invoked or attributed 59 Jews, invoked or attributed 60 Christians, invoked or attributed 61 Nazis, attributed 62 Gays/lesbians, invoked or attributed 63 Children, invoked or attributed 74 Institutions 75 Family 76 Religion 77 Schools 78 Popular Culture 79 Discipline of History 80 Discipline of English 94 Narratives 95 Freedom 96 Tolerance 97 Happy endings 98 Redemption 99 Fragmentation 100 Sanctity 101 Love Story 102 Children 103 Individual Road to Success 104 Structuralism 105 Being poor is shameful and deserved/Hillbilly 106 Jews 107 Christians 108 Education 109 Intentionalist 110 Functionalist 339 Appendix 4-A
Text Adams 2003 River Hill Adams 2004 Goodrich and Hackett (1994) XX Excerpts from Frank (2001) X Night (Wiesel, 1982) XXX Maus II (Spiegleman, 1991) XX Sunflower (Wiesenthal, 1997) X Holocaust poetry XX Museum XX Special Speakers XX Cotemporaneous Social Studies X Swing Kids (Manulis et al., 1993) X clips from Dornheim (2001) X clips from Life is Beautiful (Benigni, 1997) X clips from Schindler's List (Spielberg, 1993) X clips from Night and Fog (Renais, 1956) X
340 Appendix 6-A
Categories and subcategories for religious narratives World building Holocaust is evidence that God doesn't act in the world Satan is evil and active in this world God is good and is active in this world Preaching Advice Testing Superceding Ignoring Elie's suffering or faith struggles Overlaying own faith Struggling Questioning own faith Questions with no answers Condemning Christ killers
Jews deserve to die 341 Appendix 7-A. Ted’s and Florence’s papers about Anne Frank
Ted’s Paper
The play of Anne Frank ended happily and hopefully, with Mr. Frank reading a quote from the journal. The quote read “I still believe that everyone is good at heart.” I think the play ended this way for many reasons.
First, the play needed to make money, and everyone loves a happy ending. To get more people to come see the play, the play wanted to end hopefully. It’s sad but it’s a hopeful sad, that Anne was able to be optimistic even at the concentration camps. This was most likely not the case, but is presented this way.
Next, they wanted to make Anne this heroic, amazing, optimistic person. She seems almost like a super human. She apologized to her mother for the way she’d been treating her. She realizes she has been rude to everybody. Super-Anne then stays optimistic even in death camps and believes everyone is good at heart. Anne though in real life was not a super human.
Finally, the story ends this way because it didn’t want to talk a lot about the bad concentration camps. It wanted the audience to be lifted, not to learn about how terrible life was in the concentration camps. They didn’t want to show Jews being dehumanized and disgraced, so, they made you think that the camps weren’t really that bad and that
Anne was happy there. They wanted to focus on the good and not on the bad.
This is why the play of Anne Frank ended this way. I wanted it to be happy and hopeful, though this is not the case.
342
Florence’s Paper
There are many discrepancies between the play version and the published book.
The play leaves the viewers/readers optimistic at the final curtain, but the book gives the cold hard truth. The play writers used only a small fragment of the quote so it became misleading
The entire quote found on page 333 [of the Definitive Edition (2001)] is, “In spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart. I simply can’t build up my hopes on a foundation consisting of confusion, misery, and death. I see the world gradually being turned into a wilderness. I hear the ever approaching thunder, which will destroy us too.” Anne Frank wrote those words a week before her last entry. The first portion, the optimistic one, was the world she wants to live in. The second, depressing portion is the world she was living in.
For Anne it was easier for her to go off in her imaginary world than to live in constant fear of being found. She kept her spirits up anticipating her visits with Peter. She wonders if Peter is going to fall in love with her. She quotes Margot who is sad that she doesn’t have someone special to love. She finally get to kiss him, but she is still in the secret annex.
Anne might still think there is a good left in people because she had not fully realized the situation she was in. She said in her last entry she expected to be in school next October. Little did she know she wouldn’t get farther from the truth. 343 Anne wrote all of the entries prior to arriving at Bergen-Belsen where she witnessed many murders, and was killed herself. She was robbed of her food, her father, and the most prosperous time of her life. If she had survived, I believe she would not have written that “All people are truly good.” She would have known better. 344 Appendix 8-A
Historical Actors in the Holocaust
Discuss the various categories of historical actors below. Use a dictionary or any other resources in the room. a. Define what each term means. b. List people you have learned about that would fit into each category. c. What characteristics do you think perpetrators and rescuers would have? d. On the back, describe the possible differences in perspective between bystanders and rescuers (just one paragraph each).
Victims Survivors Bystanders Perpetrators Collaborators Rescuers 345 Appendix 8-B
Perspective Many students see people in history or characters in literature as all good or all bad, instead of nuanced. In this exercise on perspective-taking, I want you to imaginatively consider the lives of people who acted in history.
We know a great deal about Anne Frank and what she thought, but we don’t have as much insight into the other people in the play. I want you to choose one rescuer (Miep or Mr. Kraler) and one collaborator/perpetrator (the Dutch informant or one of the Gestapo who found the secret annex). For each, you will answer 3 of the 10 questions below to get you started. Next, you will write one paragraph on each person, providing detail that is true to the characterization in the play. There is little characterization of the Dutch informant or the Gestapo, so you have more latitude.
You will write each paragraph in the first person, as a monologue. I will ask a few of you to volunteer to read your monologues aloud to the class. Everyone will turn them in.
Questions Answer 3 of the 10 questions in the first person. For example, if you were answering #1 from the Dutch informant’s perspective, you might say: My parents always made me go to church when I was young. When I got older I realized that…”
1. Does your character go to church? What role does religion have in her/his life? 2. Why did your character decide to do what he/she did in the play? 3. What does your character dream of doing later in life? 4. What kinds of things does your character discuss around the dinner table? 5. What were your character’s parents like? 6. What does your character keep in his/her wallet/purse? 7. What keeps your character up at night? Why? 8. What did your character think when she/he heard of the Allied invasion? 9. What would your character’s friends say about him/her? 10. What does your character do late at night when everyone else is sleeping?
Paragraphs Read over what you’ve written in response to the questions. Write a short monologue (paragraph length) in which you bring out nuanced details about his/her life. For example, “Most of the men in the Gestapo didn’t know that I have a beautiful singing voice. I learned to sing in church when I was young. I often stay awake late at night wondering how I got into this position. How could I have dragged that family out of hiding and to near certain death? My wife and kids would never believe that I was capable of such cruelty. Still, the job has to been, I suppose. They shouldn’t…