Also, I wanted to say that today is Holocaust Remembrance Day, and when a book is about Hitler Studies I think we should pay attention to this day. Here's a poem and some commentary that might help you experience the day:Kenneth ShermanThe Necessity of Poetry:Anthony Hecht's "The Book of Yolek"Anthony Hecht was a witness to the Holocaust. He served with the U.S. 97th infantry and participated in the liberation of Flossenburg, an annex of Buchenwald. It was in Flossenburg that Pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer was hanged, only days before the camp was liberated. In a conversation with Philip Hoy, Hecht revealed the shocking nature of his experience: "When we arrived. . .prisoners were dying at the rate of five hundred a day from typhus. . . .The place, the suffering, the prisoners' accounts were beyond comprehension. For years after I would wake shrieking."So it is not surprising that the Holocaust is a persistent subject in Hecht's oeuvre. It provides the ironic conclusion to "It Out-Herods Herod. Pray You. Avoid It" and is the central concern of the much- anthologized "More Light! More Light!" In my opinion, "The Book of Yolek," which first appeared in The New Statesman in 1982—thirty-eight years after the initial shock—is one of the most powerful Holocaust poems ever published.The Book of YolekWir Haben ein Gesetz,Und nach dem Gesetz soll er sterben.*The dowsed coals fume and hiss after your mealOf grilled brook trout, and you saunter off for a walkDown the fern trail. It doesn't matter where to,Just so you're weeks and worlds away from home,And among midsummer hills have set up campIn the deep bronze glories of declining day.You remember, peacefully, an earlier dayIn childhood, remember a quite specific meal:A corn roast and bonfire in summer camp.That summer you got lost on a Nature Walk;More than you dared admit, you thought of home:No one else knows where the mind wanders to.The fifth of August, 1942.It was the morning and very hot. It was the dayThey came at dawn with rifles to The HomeFor Jewish Children, cutting short the mealOf bread and soup, lining them up to walkIn close formation off to a special camp.How often you have thought about that camp,As though in some strange way you were driven to,And about the children, and how they were made to walk,Yolek who had bad lungs, who wasn't a dayOver five years old, commanded to leave his mealAnd shamble between armed guards to his long home.We're approaching August again. It will drive homeThe regulation torments of that campYolek was sent to, his small, unfinished meal,The electric fences, the numeral tattoo,The quite extraordinary heat of the dayThey all were forced to take that terrible walk.Whether on a silent, solitary walkOr among crowds, far off or safe at home,You will remember, helplessly, that day,And the smell of smoke, and the loudspeakers of the camp.Wherever you are, Yolek will be there, too.His unuttered name will interrupt your meal.Prepare to receive him in your home some day.Though they killed him in the camp they sent him to,He will walk in as you're sitting down to a meal. * We have a law, and according to the law he must die.
Dr. Ferguson,I think White Noise day will work againforever! After all, how could something so fabulous fail! I love satire.Thanks,Charlie
i think white noise day would work even better next year because student will be more prepared for it and they will have time to look forward to it. also, things like the tshirts and movie making will appeal to seniors looking for a fun and interactive culminating experience.-Bonnie
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