This past Friday, the members of my GT2 class and I took a trip down to Washington D.C. to visit the famous Holocaust Museum. Having visited before, I thought I was slightly prepared for what I was about to see, only to realize upon arrival that the last time I visited I only participated in the "Daniel's Story" portion of the museum which is designed for children. That being said, I only had a few minutes to mentally prepare for what I thought most of the museum would be like. In those few moments I was expecting to see more images than anything else. Images of living conditions before and after death camps, dead bodies, children, and the other generic sad things you think of when you think about the Holocaust.
However, that was not the case.
Stepping into the elevator was the first step of many in creating a long list of overwhelming experiences. While inside the elevator, you were crammed against the walls, and strangers visiting that day. The walls looked like what would've been a gas chamber, or another under-supplied area of a camp which would have held Jewish people. One of the items I saw which made me feel the worst was the broken Torah in a glass case on the second floor. Being of Jewish decent, I've grown up with the Torah and understand the importance of it within the Jewish community. For you to compare it to something, in my mindn it was like staring at dead puppies behind a glass case (I apologize for the juvenile comparison). Another item I saw which reminded me of family were the Star of David patches framed on the walls. I have the patches of many of my great aunts and uncles, and making the connection in front of my eyes upset me. The last thing I saw which left me speechless was the incredible amount of pictures which informed you of the people who perished. The number of images was overwhelming, and I found myself at a loss for words.
I left the Holocaust Museum taking away more understanding for the specifics that occured before, and during the camps. Prior to the museum, I had a general idea of what occured; but the amount of information provided there was overwhelming.
(P.S. Ms. Mystrena, I'm sorry my brain is fried from HSPAs)
Hi, my name is Rachel A. and I am a special ed graduate teacher in River Falls, WI. My grandfather fought in WWII and liberated the death camp, Nordhausen. It was bombed before he arrived there because it was believed to be an arms and ammunition supply. He's only ever told my father about it, but my father only tells me some details. However, one thing I do know is the American troops were merciless on the German soldiers and Gestapo running the camp. My grandfather took the skull and crossbones pins off the lapel of one of their uniforms. My dad has willed all that stuff to me.
ReplyDeleteIt is so important for you to hold on to this experience and consider revisiting the museum. It obviously holds very special significance for you. Excellent writing and reflection!