from "Walls" by H. Margaret Zassenhaus
(NOTE: The day before the events described in this excpert took place, Nazi party founder Adolph Hitler was named chancellor of Germany. One month later, he became absolute dictator. The Nazi regime in Germany became known as the Third Reich (Empire). The author of this passage, H. Margaret Zassenhaus, was 17 years old at the time. She grew up to become a doctorand was later nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize for her work in the German resistance.)
1 I was late for school that morning of January 30, 1933, I had tried to get the glued paper off the window, but it
stuck. I did not want to give up until I had scraped off at least one of the many black swastikas1. But, digging
back and forth with my knife, I had cleared only two lines which looked like a cross and through them I could
see a touch of the blue wintry sky.
2 My favorite teacher, Miss Brockdorf, had the first class. She taught German and history, and just the day
before we'd had a heated discussion comparing democracy and liberalism with totalitarian systems.
3 Not only that, but the month before Miss Brockdorf had assigned me to attend a rally where Hitler had
spoken. It was the first time I had heard him speak, and afterwards I put down my impressions. "The
loudness of his voice can silence you, but it cannot convince," I had written. In the early morning hours, with
the conviction of my seventeen years, I had ended my essay with the words, "Hitler is a psychotic!" Miss
Brockdorf had graded my paper with an "A", and asked me to read it to the whole class.
4 This morning, when I entered the classroom, I noticed that she was pale. She asked why I was late; but, when
I started to tell her, she interrupted me curtly with "Never mind." There was something in her face,
something I saw laterin the students, too. When I told them what had happened to my home, it was as if a
curtain had fallen over their faces. Their faces went blank. They became quiet and turned away. Only my
best friend, Inge, stayed with me and whispered, "Be careful."
5 I was startled. Caution was a thought I had associated only with traffic. All I wanted to do was go home.
When school finally ended that day, I rushed down the staircase. Miss Brockdorf stood at the bottom and
stopped me. She motioned me into her office and carefully closed the door. My essay was on her desk.
"Take it and burn it," she said. She stumbled over her words, when she added," The things we believed in
until now...we must forget..."
6 I had known Miss Brockdorf better than any other teacher. Not only had she taught me in school, but for
more than two years she had invited a small group of students who had special interests in literature to her
home for weekly meetings. We called it "Private Book Club."
7 She lived with another teacher, who had been my favorite in juonior high. Together we had read the great
works of literature, covering a ground as wide as Stevenson and Goethe all the way to Thomas Mann. She
had interpreted Dr. Jekyll, who, when he had released his innermost thoughts, turned into Mr. Hyde. She had
helped us understand why Goethe's Faust was driven to the edge of suicide when he made a pact with the
devil. With her we had read Thomas Mann's "Magic Mountain"--about the man who, turning away from a
conventional way of life, found himself.
8 "What about our club?" I asked her. Again her answer was, "You must forget about those books, too.
Everything has changed."
9 At home only the outside had changed. Inside it was the same. My father told us that day, "Maybe now is
the time when our beliefs will be tested, to see if they will hold."
10 His warning was to become true. In school we had to read Hitler's "Mein Kampf;" and one day Miss
Brockdorf asked me, "Should you think objectively or subjectively when it concerns your country?" She
looked at me intently, as if she were urging me to give the answer she expected from me.
11 "Objectively," I answered without hesitation. She became impatient with me and said, "You just don't seem
to understand."
12 Soon a new order was announced. At the beginning of each class, when the teacher entered, we had to
stand up, raise our right arm, and say, "Heil Hitler." I made up my mind that I would not. I thought it might
be the first step to further concessions. In fact, I did not even take it seriously; we recently had read a drama
of Schiller, and I reminded my friend Inge of the way its hero Wilhelm Tell had dealt with the oppressor who
had overrun his country. When the tyrant placed his hat on a pole and ordered that everyone passing by
was to bow, my hero had defied him. "But," Inge answered, " Why don't you do what I do? I raise my arm
and just mumble something."
13 I decided not to even do that. There were thirty in the classroom; and when Miss Brockdorf entered, it
sounded loud and distictly, "Heil Hitler." I stood by the window; she looked at me. After the class she called
me, "You know of the new order, and I have to insist." She added in a low voice: "Please don't make it so
diffcult for yourself--and for me."
14 I went home and talked with my parents, but I got no advice. All they said was, "You must decide for
yourself."
15 The next day all eyes were on me. The girls were standing with raised arms, but their heads were turned in
my direction. Miss Brockdorf's face was ashen when she said, "Why do you force me to go further?" I was
summoned to the principal, who said that I would have to be expelled if I did not give in. He gave me a day to
think about it and said he would be in himself to see that I followed the order. I spent a sleepless night. My
father asked me, "Do you feel it is worth the consequences you might face?" I realized that it could mean I
would have to leave school. It could be the end of my education.
16 In school the next morning, I was badly shaken, and I would have preferred to run. But I knew there would
be a tomorrow, and I had to find an answer today.
1swastikas: symbols of the Nazi party