An Incredible First Day Something was wrong. No one was
in Room 109 but me. Almost 40 students were missing and my first class of this
semester was to begin in ten minutes. So many, according to roster profiles,
were highly motivated RN students. Almost always, they were early, twenty or
thirty minutes early.
Fortunately, I was logged on to the Net in my cozy multi
media auditorium, the room I’d been using for so long I’d taken for granted I
was supposed to be there. But, when I checked my college’s website, I saw that
I belonged in Oliver 110 in the nearby Temple Building. And I had eight minutes
to get there.
After speeding across campus, I parked then hustled to
Temple. My students had lined the hallway. “Door’s locked,” one of them offered.
I pushed hard; it was just stuck. And it was 8:00 a.m.
Quickly, they filed into the small auditorium, spacious enough for at least 220
people.
That was Friday.
Two days later, I said to Tommy B., an old friend, “I told
them to get out a sheet of paper, to write their definition of the word,
civilization, and why it began with the word ‘civil’. Then I apologized for my
mix up.”
Tommy listened as I described my interesting class. “One of
them, from Poland, has only been here four years. Another one is a serious
poet. Others, especially the RN students, want to learn. Many want to be better
writers.”
There was another student, older, who had put off getting a
degree until her children were out of high school. Although I wanted to tell
Tommy about her, he had his story to tell.
“How do you like these pants?” he asked.
They were expensive and much bolder than any I would wear.
White with blue, green, and orange plaid, they were a soft cotton I wouldn’t be
surprised to see at a private golf course function for whites only. But Tommy
is a black comedian with a sharp and witty tongue.
“I’m going to wear them to the Convention,” he told me. I
knew he meant the Democratic Convention. “Just before I get there, I have to
speak at a big church not far from there.”
I believed him. Tommy is that well known. He’s been on the
Oprah show more than once. I thought of her then, as I handed Tommy his bright
pants; I’d just hemmed them.
“You’ll see Oprah there, won’t you?” I asked.
“Yes, of course,” he said, without sounding boastful.
“Please give her this for me,” I said, after I’d autographed
then handed him a copy of my book, No Gold Stars.
He read the autograph. “She’ll like that,” he said. “At
least I do.” He promised to do his best to get it to her.
I was too excited by that possibility to think to tell him
about the extraordinary experience I’d had that day. It happened when I was
reading through the diagnostic ‘tests’ I’d administered on Friday. My older
student told of an essay she’d written about her mother and her grandmother.
So many questions came to me as I pondered her paper. I
called her.
After our hellos, I asked, “Is it true that your mother and
grandmother escaped Nazi Germany?”
“Yes,” she said quietly. “My Mom was four.”
“And they told you about what happened then?”
“Yes,” she said. “There were many terrible stories about
their Jewish neighbors.” In our class, I had mentioned I am Jewish.
I asked if she would share her essay with me. She didn’t
hesitate to reply.
“Yes I will.”
Hearing that, I told her I wanted her to write as many of
their stories as she could. “Please do that instead of the other written
assignments this semester. I want you to focus on that.” That pleased her.
“Light One Candle means a lot to you, doesn’t it?” I asked.
“Yes,” she replied. “That book reminds me of gruesome
stories they’ve told.”
It was my turn to reflect. I wanted to call my friend, Dr.
John Guzlowski, to tell him about this remarkable news. John is the son of
Holocaust survivors; every semester he reads poems based on stories his parents
told him about their cruel years spent in concentration camps. Every time, my
students and I are moved to tears. Usually, so is John.
But all I said to my student was thank you. To that I added,
“Your mother is welcome to speak to our class at any time she comes to town.”
She liked that. I hope it will happen.
Perhaps there’s a chance that Tommy will come the same day
to share his observations about the Convention. If I’m lucky, he may have good
news about Oprah too.
B. Koplen 8/29/12
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