‘My students are completely silent when I tell them about Anne Frank’

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Thursday morning. We are on an excursion in Anne Frank’s Secret Annex. After months of preparation. Every history lesson was about World War II. My students were always silent when I talked about Anne Frank. They empathize with her because they are the same age as she was when the war started: eleven years. Next year they will go to first grade, just like Anne. Like them, they are ready for their first crushes. They like to go to the cinema, to the swimming pool, to play sports. Anne was no longer allowed to do that.

When she was thirteen, she had to live in the glorified prison from which she was never allowed to leave. The place where we all walk around now. The children have never been so good in a museum as they are now. Last year they turned the Rijksmuseum upside down. But in the Secret Annex they follow each other like tame sheep.

A hand in mine

In Anne’s bedroom I stand with seven students looking at the pictures of movie stars that she pasted on her wall almost eighty years ago. There is a picture of Queen Elizabeth as a cute toddler, with her sister Margaret. “Look boys, that’s Prince Harry’s grandmother”, I say.

Next to me is Rebecca, the only Jewish child in my class. Suddenly I feel her hand in mine. He feels a little clammy.

Rebecca is very aware of her Jewish background. She is raised traditionally, celebrates Sabbath and all Jewish holidays at home. She speaks Ivriet, goes to Jewish Sunday school. After the history lesson I often chatted with her during the break. I also contacted her parents about our trip. They prepared her well.

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Lemonade

So when we went to the Anne Frank House, she was no more excited than any other child going on a field trip. Still, I kind of stayed close to her. And now I feel her hand in mine. I look at her and see tears in her eyes. “Rebecca, shall we have a drink in the museum cafe?” I ask softly. She nods. We walk down. I leave the other students with peace of mind to the accompanying parents.

Over a glass of lemonade, I gently wipe Rebecca’s tears from her cheeks. “Miss, if I had lived during the war, I would not have been allowed to stay at school,” she says. “Then I would also have been locked up, just like Anne. And maybe I was betrayed too.” I can’t argue with it. I can only say that luckily it happened a long time ago. And that Anne Frank has made sure that it is not forgotten. She calms down a bit. On the bus back I see her chatting with her friends.

Drawing

We talk the next day. I ask the children to draw a picture of what they saw. At the end of the lesson, they hand in the drawings. I pin Rebecca’s at the top of the bulletin board. She has written in beautiful letters: ‘JEWS WANSCHT’.

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