Last night at dinner, Peter said “I feel like I’ve been wrung out” and he made a gesture with his hands as if he were wringing out a washcloth.  A powerful gesture to perfectly demonstrate his feelings.  At 93, Peter has continued going each and every step of the journey with us, at times emotionally wrung out and at times physically wrung out, but at all times with a spirit that is indomitable, a spirit that shares with us how he can hit the pillow at night and be asleep within two minutes.  He does not worry at night about problems that the next day might bring.  He sleeps “the sleep of the just”—a phrase that I told him my husband uses—but he agreed.  He has always been able to flip a switch and shut off his brain.  When he would get home from work at night, he flipped that switch.  When he is traveling with us, he flips off that switch, thinking about problems or worrying about what may come is a waste of time.  He says that perhaps it was his childhood experiences that allowed him this capacity.  No matter what it is, he has been most gracious with us throughout our exhausting journey, never losing his patience or his spirit.

As we were driving through the very narrow roads of the plateau region of Le Chambon and other mostly protestant farming communities where anywhere from 1,000-5,000 children were hidden and rescued during the Holocaust, Peter talked about the “conspiracy of goodness” here. Even though neighbors could clearly see across the narrow street into their neighbor’s windows and their homes, and clearly knew if there were more people in the house than the family, they didn’t ask questions.  They didn’t want to have knowledge that could lead to turning in someone for their rescue efforts if they were caught and questioned.  It reminded me of Trsice, the community in the Czech Republic that helped hide Otto Wolf and his family for years in the woods and in the homes of people in the villages.  It’s inspiring to know people have the capacity to do good and the will to save the persecuted.

We have also noticed and heard stories from every town we have visited where Peter was hidden, of Ukrainian refugees who are now staying and how the community is helping them in their schools and in their neighborhoods.  People have the capacity to help others and can help others if they just take the time and invest their efforts in that way.  Think of what a world we would have if more people were concerned about the welfare of others and if all people thought of the welfare of children in need. 

I often think about my own life and the miracle that I am here right now, in an attic room of a hotel in the middle of the countryside, where through my dormer window I can see stars twinkling among the clouds.  Below me somewhere, Peter Feigl is sleeping the sleep of the just, Sheila Hansen is hopefully sleeping as well, even though she is probably dreaming about the work that she will do on this project when she wakes up.  This all began as an idea of a few teachers who have committed our lives to teaching about the Holocaust. The story of Le Chambon, depicted in Weapons of the Spirit, the documentary by Pierre Sauvage, was one of the first classroom tools we used.  Yesterday I witnessed the descendants of the people whose parents participated in the “conspiracy of goodness”: the current mayor whose father and uncle were some of the photographers of the area instrumental in taking photos for those needing false identity papers and whose grandfather led the resistance movement in the area. The woman whose grandparents, mother and uncle moved here from Strasburg to help the efforts of Daniel Trocme rescuing children like Peter at Les Grillons, and the former mayor who was instrumental in the development of the Lieu de Memoire, the museum of the resistance movement here in Le Chambon. 

The rooster and birds begin to wake up and the last day of our journey with Peter begins.  What a gift this 93-year-old man has given us.  He has led us, translated for us, climbed every step of the journey on his own two feet. His spirit and his life is a testimony to the conspiracy of goodness that saved him. He has paid it forward a million-fold.  The effects of his kindness and generous spirit will carry on through the teachers like us who have been inspired by his diary and by his story.  Thanks to this young man who lost his parents 80 years ago but continued to go on, and continues to go on, living life knowing that it’s useless to worry about the future, Peter teaches us more lessons.  When we think as teachers about our teenage students in our classrooms who have been through COVID, we can think of Peter and the lessons he gives us about resilience and about how to go on.  If only we can. 

Today I learned that Peter was an altar boy and that he was confirmed.  His full name, including his confirmation name was Klaus Nicholas Peter Feigl.  His given name was Klaus Peter, but when he was 2 or 3 he went to the circus and was afraid of the clowns, so from that point on he didn’t want to be called Klaus, a name that sounded too close to clowns for him. Peter showed us the door to the sacristy where he remembers going in to help the priest with his vestments.  He remembers ringing the bells and told me about his first communion.  He was of course forbidden to let the consecrated host touch his teeth and was so afraid.  He talked about how much he loved going to confession because he could tell the priest his sins and have them absolved—just for saying a few Hail Mary’s and putting some money into the poor box. 

He talked about how he lost his faith, too.  When his parents were arrested and he was scared, he asked Mrs. Cavailhon what happened to them.  She told him that they would say a Novena and it would help.  At the end of nine days, he still did not know where his parents were.  He had no idea that they were sent through Camp du Vernet to Drancy and on to Auschwitz. Even though the novena did not reveal answers for Peter about his parents, and it certainly did not bring them back to him, his parents saved his life many times over because they baptized him as a Catholic, attended mass with him, and had him make all of his sacraments.

As a fellow childhood Catholic, I understand the innocence of faith as a child.  We all believe what our parents believe.  What I don’t understand, however, is how religion is used as a weapon. Nazis used Catholic antisemitism as a tool to convince people that Jews were not human.  One only needs to study Catholicism and history to understand that this was not a stretch--the Catholic church only changed the official teaching about Jews as "Christ-killers" in Vatican II in the 1960's.  In Nazi racial ideology, Jews were “life unworthy of life.”  How is it possible that the French people, most of whom were Catholic, could consider Peter in such a way? I understand that it was the Nazi racist fallacy to consider Jews as a race and not as a religion, but I don’t understand how the same Catholics who attended mass where Peter served as an altar boy could also look away when children like Peter were deported with their parents to Auschwitz.  When we see the proximity of the camps to the towns here in France, as in other countries like Poland, it is impossible to believe that they didn’t know what was happening.  They made a choice to look away.  They made a choice to not know because they didn’t want to know.  That is the meaning of bystander, but is it also the meaning of collaboration?  Is it collaboration to actively practice the Catholic faith at the same time to ignore the teachings of that religion? 

On this recording-setting hot day, we made a sad and moving visit to the camp where Peter's parents were taken when they were arrested in Auch.  Camp Vernet was a stopping place on the way to Drancy, which was a holding center to gather prisoners to send to Auschwitz.  Our guide made it very clear that during August-September, 1942, when Peter's parents and many other Jewish adults and children were arrested and deported to Auschwitz, there were no Germans here administering the camps.  The French administered the camp, arrested the families and deported them to Auschwitz.  They considered them "Undesireables". If Peter were not at camp at the time, he would have been arrested with his parents and sent to Auschwitz. 

Today Sheila and I spent a few hours at the Old Port of Marseilles, where Peter writes about going to look at the ships and wondering about when he would be able to go to America. The area now is a museum of medieval history, housed in the old fort that was built by Louis XIV.  Beside this, directly under a footbridge is the Museum of Deportations, dedicated to those who were deported by France during WWII to concentration camps and killing centers. The museum centers on individual stories of people who were arrested and deported by the French government in conjunction with the Nazis. While we were at the museum, Peter & Jackie had lunch with Jean-Michel and his sister, Marie-Louise, who now lives in a nursing home in Marseille.  We met back at the big brown van (or elephant, as Peter calls it), and said goodbye to Jean-Michel. 

We spent the night in Carcassone, midway between Marseille and Auch.  We drove up to the walled medieval city, which is a UNESCO World Heritage site.  We wandered the cobblestone streets and alley-ways looking for a good spot for dinner on this extremely, unseasonably hot evening.  The temperature here was a record 104 degrees today.  We will need our strength for the journey to Le Vernet tomorrow morning.

Not only have we had the opportunity to meet with Peter, but today we traveled throughout Marseille to some of the places that Peter wrote about in his diary. We were warmly welcomed by Floriane Serra at the city center farm, some three acres dedicated to experiential learning, where school groups fieldtrip, learning about how to plant vegetables, how fruit trees grow, and how to feed the horses, goats, Gaston the pig, and many ducks, geese and chickens.  This working farm sells vegetables to the local community, but is also a historic place, built in 1855 as a manor farm where the caretakers have lived for generations, working for the wealthy family owners.  Here, in the place where Peter remembers meeting German soldiers, and told them that he was here because his father was in the Gestapo! He also tells about his time here in the area.  We toured the grounds and learned that Floriane is designing a walking history tour of this place and plans to include Peter's story.  

After lunching outside in the shade, we went to Jean-Michel's apartment in the center of the city. He was only a little boy when his mother, Mrs. Cavhailon, saved Peter. A retired Catholic priest, Jean-Michel has a quiet demeanor, and his soft-spoken French is translated by Peter. We learn of his thoughts about Peter, his mother and his opinions about the actions of the French people. There is a special friendship here between Peter and Jean-Michel.  They love each other, clearly, and they have a shared bond that is beyond words. We see it in their eyes when they smile, and feel it in the air as we eat and laugh together.  Jean Michel is moved that we are here, and that we want to capture the pictures of his mother and sister.  He proudly shares his home, his story and his life with us.  This hospitality, again, moves me.

Peter Feigl was born March 1, 1929 in Berlin, Germany.  He would have been 13 in 1942 when the French police arrested his parents.  At the time he was in Condom at a summer camp and had no idea where they were being taken.  He was a practicing Catholic—he went to Mass regularly and had made his first communion.  What would it be like to be a young boy—between 7th & 8th grade—and to not know where your parents are?  Especially after all the years of moving, his father’s arrest, and his intelligence about the Nazis and world events? Peter started writing a diary as a testimony of his love for his parents.  He dedicated his diary to them to create a connection with his parents at a time when there was no other way to communicate with them.  He was just a boy. . .a boy who was growing into a man, but still just a boy.

As a mother I can only imagine what it was like for Agnes Feigl to be arrested with her husband, taken in the early morning of August 26, 1942, from their small apartment in Auch.  I can only imagine her panic. She made sure to get the necessary information to the camp director, Mrs. Cavailhon, and to Peter about family contacts that could help him to get out of France.  She must have written the letters from La Vernet, a holding camp, trusting, hoping and praying for a kind person who would find them and mail them.

And then what kind of feeling must she and Ernst Feigl had at their arrival at Drancy? From the museum exhibit we visited, I know that the prisoners were living in appalling conditions.  There was straw on the floors, and they gathered the prisoners for the convoys on the stairs of the buildings, making them wait hours and sometimes even days for their trains to arrive.  The exhibition included testimony and letters detailing the disgusting conditions of the stairways because of the natural bodily functions of the prisoners waiting there hours and hours. 

Today the Drancy Memorial stands in the center of a park that was the courtyard of the barrack apartments, the same apartments where families live even today.  A young woman with a baby in a stroller walks slowly while her son kicks a ball through the sidewalks and over the railroad tracks of the memorial.  She pulls the stroller into a shady spot—the baby has fallen asleep.  Her little boy kicks the ball against the side of the railcar that is part of the memorial.  It bounces into the bushes on the side. He disappears into the bushes to get his ball, while his mother absentmindedly flips through her phone, seated now on the steps of the railcar. I watch from the inside of the Drancy Memorial Museum to the Shoah.  I take a picture from across the street.  I have just listened to the testimony and read the letters.  Does this young mother know what the steps and railcar where she sits represents? Does she know how blessed she is to sit here with her two children on a beautiful sunny day in this memorial park in Drancy? Does she know the luxury of calm and peace that is hers as she lets her son play and her baby sleep, while she looks through her phone? 

The next day we go to the Memorial of the Shoah in Paris. This museum is bigger and tells the history of the Holocaust in France.  There is a memorial wall outside to all the 76,000 Jews who were deported from all over France during the years of the Holocaust. We see their names:  Ernst Feigl; Agnes Feigl.  When they were in Paris, they were sent to Drancy. How many times had they visited the city before the war? 

Inside the exhibit, there are groups of school children stopping where the guides tell them.  They walk quickly through the section of the museum where we are spending the most time: the section about the children. So many Jewish children were caught in this terrible time—some were sent to the camps with their parents—like Peter went to Gers with his mother.  But others were also like Peter—kept hidden and safe by adults who understood that the Nazis were wrong and that to comply with their orders would mean death to innocent children, like Peter.  Why weren’t more people rescuers like Mrs. Cavailhon?  Ordinary people doing extraordinary things, not necessarily to be heroes, but because they knew right from wrong. 

And now it is surreal to be flying from Paris to Marseilles—about to go to a hotel where Peter Feigl will meet us, along with Father Jean-Michel Passenal, the son of Mrs. Cavailhon.  We are the teachers who have taught his diaries, who are going to retrace and document Peter’s story in 2022 to the best of our amateur ability, 80 years after the arrests and deportations of so many families like his. I can think of nothing more important at this moment in time.

"The tender June day persisted, refusing to die. Each pulse of light was fainter and more exquisite than the last, as if bidding farewell to the earth, full of love and regret." Irene Nemirovsky

One of my favorite writers captures my sense of Paris.  It is a city of beauty beyond compare with a history that is full of love and regret.  But first the beauty.  I returned to Paris from Poitiers on Sunday and took in the city as a traveler who is alone but not lonely.  Having experienced COVID and not getting the opportunity to travel has been a burden.  But I am making up for lost time now that I am away.  I am missing my family, but I am loving the time alone in this beautiful city.  The movie I'm posting today reflects my fun wandering aimlessly throughout the city, seeing the sites and experiencing places like Shakespeare and Company, the Eiffel Tower, the Paris nighttime bike tour, and the happy accidental finds in side streets and shops.  Getting lost while wandering is one of the best parts of travel in a new city.  

Yesterday and today I experienced the utmost in French hospitality.  I had the privilege of making a stop in Poitiers to visit Richard Apaloo, who my AP Literature students at BVW have been conducting an exchange with via Zoom and other online platforms this year while reading All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr.  Richard met me at the Poitiers train station after my super speedy TGV trip from Bordeaux, and took to me to see the beautiful medieval walled city where the City Hall (Hotel De Ville) stands regally in the center of the square.  I enjoyed good, cold Coke in a glass bottle while l learned some of the history of this city of 100,000 citizens.  From there we drove to the school, Lysee Saint Jacques, a private Catholic school where Richard teaches English. We were fortunate that the grounds keeper/caretaker of the school was there with the key to get into the school.  I took many pictures of the classrooms and the 25 year old school.  It is beautiful and seems to be in the country because of the many fields outside—it backed up to a field of golden wheat, reminding me very much of Kansas, even though on the front side of the school there is an apartment building across the street. 

When we were finishing our tour and went to return the key, we were invited into the caretaker’s home, a lovely apartment with a courtyard that is connected to the front side of the school.  While we had been touring, his wife had baked a homemade cake that was hot from the oven.  She brought us juice and piping hot cake with coconut and toasted slivered almonds on top. It was the nicest treat and so hospitable.  I took a picture with them and told them they MUST come to Kansas. 

At Richard's house, I met his lovely wife Karla and we were joined for dinner on the deck near the swimming pool by another teacher, Bertrand and his wife.  Karla made two kinds of gazpacho along with French potatoes which she says have only 3 ingredients:  Potatoes, cream and onions.  DELICIOUS.  We tried a dish that is a Poitiers specialty—a green pate cheesecake with spinach, vegetables (perhaps artichokes) and some bread to hold it together.  It was cold and sliced like a piece of cold meatloaf, only this had no meat. it and everything else, from the shrimp and chicken kabobs to the pots de creme for dessert, was amazingly delicious.  

I learned a lot about the French government because there are elections in France on Sunday and apparently the winners will determine who Macron chooses for his 2nd in command—his Prime Minister. They always vote on Sundays in France because most citizens don't have to work and it increases the numbers of people who participate in the voting process.  A wonderful idea!  

When I think of all the professional development and teachers I have met over the years since I graduated from college, I cannot help but think how blessed I am to work in this profession.  Where else do people who are dedicating their lives to changing the world for the better through the education of new generations get to gather to share their ideas, their passion and spirits? Through the Fulbright TGC process I have met empowered teachers who are leading their schools and their communities to make the world a better place.  And let's face it, we all want to make the world a better place.  

Since June 1 I have been together with some of the most passionate and caring individuals from all over the United States who have opened their hearts and minds to learning about the French education system and about each other. We have had heated discussions and laughter until tears roll, all while pushing ourselves to the limits of our physical and intellectual capabilities.  We have made lasting friendships and professional connections that will carry us into the future with our students.

After two years of COVID, and the present COVID situation, we all needed this.  For teachers of today's world (and I'm sorry, but if you haven't taught through COVID in the classroom with children you really can't be included) to move forward, we need more.  More time together to process our emotions, more time to learn best practices moving forward, more time to plan, more time to sit and eat lunch, more time to unwind after the draining SEL work we are doing that was never needed or expected before COVID.  We all have the heart-and-soul commitment to making the world a better place for our students and for our families and for our schools.  WE don't do this for the money.  We do it because we LOVE our children, whether they are biological, adopted or in the classroom.  We want our world to be better for them and want to do our parts to make it happen.  

Thank you to each and every one of you on this journey with me.  You know who you are.  Take care of yourselves and be well! 

Today began at a college, our equivalent of middle school, for students in grades six through nine. We were welcomed by the principal with a specialty cake of Bordeaux called canele and fresh squeezed juice, plus tea and coffee. Interesting facts we learned in a in a Q & A session with the principal and teachers:

• French law forbids every outward sign of belonging to a religious group in school for both teachers and students; no one is allowed to wear a hijab except parents, who can wear a hijab to school as long as they aren't doing pedagogy in schools. Even student-teachers or observers can only wear their hijab in classrooms if they are not involved with teaching.

• The French republic is very proud of its secularism. 

• Students at this school are some of the wealthiest in the city; the students and parents are very serious about education. In Bordeaux, public school attendance is based on address. 

•  The French state expects 80% of public school students to go on to university. This particular school has a 95% rate of students who continue to university studies. 

• Students at the school are not allowed to have cell phones. Students play at recess with balls, running, talking, laughing and making eye contact. 

•  In France assessments are 20 points and students must get a 10 or better in order to pass. Teachers grade together to calibrate their scores with their teams to make sure that the grades are standardized.

• Teachers make accommodations for students with special needs when a medical board grants approval, but only if parents also approve.

• One school counselor comes to the school one day a week (the school has 900 students)!

•  Teachers in France do not interview with a principal, and have no choice in where they are assigned. As soon as teacher graduates from university, they apply with the government of France and work for the state. This means they are sent wherever the state tells them to go. Older, more experienced teachers get better positions and the longer they stay in the system the better chance they have to go to a better school.

• There is a point system for teachers. At a school for underprivileged children they get extra points. Extra points are also awarded for getting married and having children, among other things. No points are given for teaching excellence. Teachers are evaluated every five or 10 years by an outside inspector and performance doesn’t really matter. 

• Students attend 26 hours in school per week plus 3 extra hours per week of personal studies in small groups. Teachers and students are off every Wednesday afternoon. Teachers can go home.  No meetings or inservice.

• It is compulsory for students and teachers to get 90 minutes for lunch. However, during lunch students can get homework help from teachers who get paid extra if they help students during this time.

I had the privilege of observing a technology class where sixth graders were working on an Excel spreadsheet quantifying data about a restaurant. Even though I couldn't understand the French, I could understand the process. The students had hand-written what they were going to put into the spreadsheet on graph paper (I have noticed that the handwriting is meticulously neat in all of the schools I have observed here). Then they took an assessment on paper over the information that they were going to be analyzing on the spreadsheet. Students have repeatedly told us that they write on paper by hand because they process and learn it better that way. They used that scored assessment to create the excel spreadsheet with a partner. The teacher buzzed around the room helping students on their computers, which were modern with large monitors. The active learning going on, including the pair working with a teacher aide, impressed me, as did the two students who spoke with me fluently in English. 

After a nice lunch at a local café we met at the Centre Regional d'Information Jeunesse (CRIJ) with the US Consul in Bordeaux, Alex Lipscomb, who told us about his work for the US Department of State in the Bordeaux region.  Lucia Cafaro, Head of International Relations for CRIJ, explained that the center helps young people with information and programing like the Erasmus program. They also help to facilitate cultural and foreign exchange programs. We learned more about the history of Bordeaux on a very enjoyable walking tour and ate another amazing French dinner. Bordeaux is lovely!

We had a delightful welcome at Mantes-la-Jolie schools by our new teacher friends.  Here, we were welcomed with pastries, coffee, and tea, then had the opportunity to visit classrooms.  I visited an elementary SPED pullout class, but it was soon recess.  We enjoyed the teacher’s lounge discussion with the elementary teachers about race and racism in their city. Sadly, the children of this school live in poverty and even though their teachers are amazing, and their parents are supportive, they have little chance at success in France due to their circumstances. We were observing students with special needs at the Lycée (high school) who were in a vocational program for culinary arts.  They have a brand new building with a wonderful state of the art kitchen, where they were preparing for an open house tonight.  We also toured the new store designed by students where they “sold” purses, coats, dresses, and shoes which were donated by the teachers, for students to design all of the displays and marketing.  One of the teachers told us that many of his students have never seen the Eiffel Tower, even though it was about an hour bus ride away.   This teacher introduced himself as Lebron James and was very excited to meet someone from Kansas City, home of the Chiefs and Patrick Mahomes.  He promised to come to Kansas to visit. 

The most amazing part of the day was lunch, which was served in a lovely dining space in the school.  Teachers at this school get 90 minutes for lunch every day.  They can either eat at school where their food is free, or go out of the building or home for lunch.  In our multiple course meal, we had a choice of appetizers.  Then for the main course, we could choose fish, lamb, or an egg souffle, with roasted vegetables, rice or a vegetable with zucchini and mashed potatoes.  The lamb was the best I have ever tasted, and the vegetables were fresh and delicious. After the cheese course (after the main course), we had a choice of dessert.  I chose the vanilla mousse cake, but others had the chocolate éclair, the roasted pineapple, or the mixed fruit salad.   During this 90 minute (!) lunch, French and American teachers discussed their schools, and the French teachers assured us that the meal we were eating a typical meal for them.  They had not gone out of their way for us.  It could be a revolutionary change in our morale, health and the overall well-being of teachers and students in the United States if we could all have this kind of time to sit and enjoy fresh, healthy food every day. 

I am inspired by the teachers at Mantes-la-Jolie, because at the heart of it all, they are educating a part of society that seems to be marginalized here—Muslim students, children of color and immigrants.  Yet, parents work together in EIPIC, an organization that supports more than 550 children, where they meet twice a week for cultural and civics activities, empowering girls and their mothers, to support the schools.  Teachers have started a special program to help students test into special high schools to study science.  They are growing fresh produce in a school garden.  As one of the teachers said, with the right amount of determination, you can do anything. Our hearts are forever grateful for the amazing teachers and students in Mantes-la-Jolie.

Today we visited a school that opened in 1796—Lycee Henry IV— a public school in a building that was originally a monastery until the monks were driven out during the French Revolution.  Our tour was led by a volunteer, since it was a Saturday and school was closed.  We were able to learn a lot about this historical building; the pictures speak volumes.  The school is accessible to the top scorers on the entrance exam from anyone in France. Many students are boarders who live in the dormitories here. 

Today we went to Normandy for an amazing yet heartbreaking experience. We witnessed Utah Beach, Omaha Beach and the beautiful cemetery where my husband's uncle, Michael Longberg and many other young men and four young women who lost their lives helping stop atrocities in France and throughout Europe because of the Nazi regime. World War II re-enactors, military personnel, descendants of D-Day soldiers dressed in American military uniforms while American flags wave alongside French. June 6, 2022 commemorates the 78th anniversary of D-Day. People from all over the world gathered to see this place of heroism, carnage and sorrow.

I could not help but think of my neighbor Eric Peterson, of Patton's 3rd Army, who landed on Utah Beach. We first met in the early 2000's when he used to sell raspberries in my neighborhood. Eric frequently wore his army hat and once he learned I teach the Holocaust, he told me about liberating the Ohrdruf camp. He told about his experiences as a half truck driver landing on Utah Beach, floating in the water until he had the traction to pull through the sand to shore. Eric got married during basic training left a pregnant wife at home. She had their baby girl, and Eric did not get to see that baby girl until the war was over and he was able to make it back to the United States and hold her for the first time. I had the privilege of going with Eric to the Eisenhower Museum on two different occasions and as we drove to and from Abilene, Kansas, Eric told lots of stories and jokes. But he always cried when he told his story talked about the liberation of France and the end of the war when a French couple invited him into their home for dinner and they had a little girl who would have been the same age as his daughter. He would always show my students the picture of him in his army uniform holding this little French girl, so far away from home in France, the country that he helped to free from the Nazis. He would always tear up and stop as he spoke of holding that little girl in France and thinking about his own little girl he had never seen.  

Eric now rests in peace, but I dedicate this blog to his memory which is and will always be a blessing for me and for all of my family, neighbors and students who knew Eric and his story. Click here to watch Eric Peterson speaking to my students.

Our guide Monique Y. Wells, originally from the United States and Paris resident since 1992, showed us around the Luxembourg Gardens through the lens of black women's history in France. She began by explaining the French slave trade and told us about a law passed in the French assembly in 2001 stating that the French slave trade constituted crimes against humanity. This law was spearheaded by  Madame Christiane Taubira and mandated the teaching of the history of the slave trade in all schools. In 2006, Taubira was instrumental in the May 10 inaugural annual commemoration of the abolition of slavery in France. She focused our attention on the sculpture "Le Cri, l'Ecrit", translated as "The cry, the written"  dedicated in 2007. Our guide mentioned what is happening politically today in France with Marine Le Pen and the rise of white supremacy. Marine Le Pen represents the far right and even though she was not elected, she received more than 40% of the vote in the recent election. 

Our guide pointed out information about singer Josephine Baker, a native of St. Louis, Missouri.  After her death, she was immortalized as the first black citizen inducted into France's Pantheon. Not only was Baker a famous singer who lived in Paris, she actually held a pilot's license and was in a branch of the Air Force for France. She worked as a French spy during World War II with the resistance movement. She received a medal from Charles de Gaulle and after the war she adopted 12 children, called the "Rainbow Tribe." After the tour when our smaller group visited the magnificent Pantheon up the hill from the gardens, and saw the crypt with the sarcophagi of several famous French people,  including some of whom our guide had just spoken: black author Alexander Dumas and of course, Josephine Baker. 

We enjoyed a delicious, hospitable multi-course lunch for all nine of us in an open air café. Even though it started sprinkling, we still managed to see the museum of Marie Curie and walked through many streets of Paris on our wet way back to the hotel for the evening. Is there anything better than getting caught out in the rain? Yes: getting caught out in the rain in Paris!

The morning started with a metro ride to the Eiffel tower where we took group photos for our official Fulbright France publicity. Next stop: Fulbright France offices where Martine Roussel, Executive Director of Franco-American Fulbright Commission spoke with us about the special relationship between the United States and France center on three priorities: 1. shared security: PEACE 2. shared prosperity: ECONOMIC stability 3. shared values: FREEDOM. We had a very interesting lecture about the French conversation about "wokeism" and cancel culture and the way that the French see diversity, racism and the differences in our views. We also learned about Pap Ndiaye, newly appointed Minister of National Education and Youth in France. His appointment has caused a stir here. We also learned about the residual effects of World War II and the Jews being rounded up and deported to Auschwitz and how that blandishment on French history affects the present views surrounding issues of race, identity and diversity. If any teachers are interested in learning more about this, I would love to discuss it in further detail.

We experienced a long, delicious 3-course lunch, feeling a little like French school teachers who get a 1 1/2 to 2 hour lunch break, which is subsidized by their school. This break for conversation and processing while eating nourished both body and soul. What a brilliant concept. From here, five of us are off via Metro to College Maurice Ravel to observe truly delightful 8th graders studying geography (completely in English), who were actually studying the United States by working on a map project. The students were very interested in learning where we were from and the teacher was most accommodating. We followed the students to their English class, where their teacher told us of their experiential learning: an amazing field trip for four days in Ireland. All students presented their research to the class, then the teacher gave them a quiz over their presentations. It was so interesting to see how the class was structured because it was the end of the day on a Friday in a two hour class with eighth graders. This amazing teacher kept them active: they demonstrated for us the Irish dancing learned while in Ireland; they sang (yes all 16 of them!) three Irish ballads they learned on the bus while traveling; and they read a beautiful poem "In Memory of My Mother" by Irish poet Patrick Kavanagh. 

Many in our group enjoyed a river cruise on the Seine. The clouds made the sky more interesting than usual and we enjoyed each other‘s company, talking about our day, the different French schools and their amazing teachers who hosted our visits.

Today we arrived in beautiful, sunny Paris! The city of lights impressed all of us with its beauty, kind people and delicious food. After an amazing lunch together in our hotel we were free this afternoon to keep ourselves awake by sightseeing and a scavenger hunt. We visited Galeries Lafayette, “Aux Galeries Lafayette”, the most glorious department store I've ever seen. We were amazed by the beauty of the artistic displays of clothing, including almost an entire floor of vintage, but the beautiful stained glass ceiling was beyond compare. We went up all of the flights of stairs to the very top to see the rooftop gorgeous views--including a big screen TV with seating to watch the French Open. Here I saw the Eiffel Tower for the first time! 

We walked from there to the River Seine and crossed the bridge to the sidewalk beside the water and made our way toward the Louvre.  Many people soaked up the sun and enjoyed the beautiful weather. We made our way back to the hotel where we checked in to our rooms. No time for sleep--the Fulbright TGC directors went over our itinerary, and we enjoyed a delicious small plate hors d'oeuvres dinner. We all are exhausted and plan to get a good nights sleep; we must be ready to visit our first schools in Paris tomorrow morning.

Nearly packed, running around on last-minute errands, going over lists to be ready for my flight, I can't help but think with trepidation about what an adventure life is.  At this time in 2020 I was extremely depressed, cloistered in my home and trying to decompress after a stressful beginning to the pandemic.  I had just begun to accept that the Fulbright TGC trip to Thailand would not happen, and even spent some Zoom time with TGC colleagues I met in DC commiserating about not getting to go to Thailand.

Fast forward to now:  I am ready and excited to set out on the new adventure symboling my global teaching and learning.  Edward R. Murrow wrote, "If you want to see some sin, forget about Paris and go to Kansas City." I'm from the Paris of the Plains! This blog launches the journey from KC to the City of Lights.  Paris, here I come!

July 28, 2020

Right now I would have been midway in my Fulbright TGC field experience in Thailand.  Back in March, when told we wouldn’t be traveling this year because of the COVID-19 pandemic, I was devastated. And also glad that I wouldn’t be going to Asia because they had so many cases at that time. Today’s data for Thailand from the New York Times Coronavirus Map: Tracking the Global Outbreak shows that in the last 7 days they have had 45 new cases, which is fewer than 1 case per 100,000 people.

The irony is that I live in Kansas, in Johnson County where today’s data is far worse.

In the last seven days there have been 710 new cases diagnosed in my county and 45 new cases diagnosed in all of Thailand.  The population of Thailand is roughly 69 million people.  There are fewer than 3 million Kansans, and 620,000 residents in Johnson County, where I live. I’m an English teacher and not usually into numbers and statistics, but these numbers are staggering and important.

The school districts in Johnson County, including my school district Blue Valley, are going back to school in person right after Labor Day.  Every day brings a new plan and I don’t have my contract yet. The American perspective and attitude, of rugged individualism and every man for himself, pull yourself up by your bootstraps and the American Dream is now the American nightmare. Our individuality and rugged individualism has turned into a collective failure to fight this pandemic. We are facing a school year with complete uncertainty--except the one certainty: everything will change. The ground is shifting under our feet.

As a Fulbright Teacher for Global Classrooms I see more than ever the need for Global Education. It is important to gain perspective on what is happening in our world and our place in it. We can lose ourselves in our own little lives and our own selfish pursuits. As teachers, we need to strive to show our students that the world is big, and our place in it is important.

I started today’s blog with numbers. The important thing to remember is that each number is a person. Maybe a grandma who died in a nursing home, a dad who has two young girls, and many others, each with family members and friends who love them and grieve for them.  

In this travel blog, even though I have not been able to go to Thailand, I will focus on ways to travel without leaving home. Ways to bring the world into the classroom and our homes virtually in order to fuel that curiosity and desire to connect with the people of the world, learn their stories, become global citizens, and realize that we are all in this together.

From an article in the Bangkok Post 16 July 2020. 

Many schools around the country will be closed as a precaution after two people in separate groups arrived in Thailand and were later found to be infected with Covid-19.

An Egyptian soldier returned a positive test after he and a military group visited Rayong and the daughter of a Sudanese diplomat fell sick with the virus while her family was in Bangkok observing their 14-day quarantine period.

Schools in many provinces will shut their doors to test pupils and sanitise their premises.

I read this yesterday, just days before I am supposed to report to school for the first day of teacher meetings.  I am living in Kansas, where although my county chose to follow the mask order of the governor, most counties didn’t. My state now has a positive rate for COVID-19 of 10%.  

At my high school, or at any of the high schools that I know of in my area, we won’t have COVID tests for the students.  We will have to check their temperatures after they have been in the building sitting in a classroom with 28-32 students, which will really not tell us much, since they could be asymptomatic.  If they do have a temperature, they also will have already been in close proximity with possibly 100+ students they’d see in the hallways walking through the building and downstairs to my classroom. 

The contrast between Thailand and their handling of the pandemic and the United States is startling, jarring and eye-opening. We are on the brink here in my district of putting 22,000 students into the classroom without testing, tracing or even the PPE needed to protect them or ourselves. 

I try not to dwell on the fact that so much is out of my control and that I was supposed to be in Thailand this summer on my Fulbright. I hope that I will get to Thailand next summer. I am so thankful that I was assigned that country because I knew little about it before, but am falling in love with it already.

And, by the way, in the last 7 days there have been a total of 31 new cases of COVID in Thailand.  In Johnson County, Kansas, we've had 661 new cases.  

According to a New York Times article on 11 August 2020, students are protesting the current government of Thailand:

 “Thailand has been dominated by the dark power of the Death Eaters,” read a statement from the student group that organized the protest, continuing the Potter theme. “It is now time for the wizards and muggles of democracy to come out and join forces to protect rights, freedoms and brotherhood and reclaim power into the hands of the people.”

Student protesters raised their hands in a three-fingered salute of defiance from the “Hunger Games” films, a gesture that was forbidden by the junta that orchestrated the last coup in 2014. The New York Times reported yesterday, 16 August, the protests grew to a march and public outcry against the government: Protests Grow in Thailand, Where Speaking Out Can Be Perilous.  The protest was partially against the monarchy.  According to the article, the current king of Thailand was sworn in last year and spends most of his time living in Germany with his 4th wife.  In Thailand, a monarch is revered as a deity, and speaking ill of the monarch is considered unlawful.  These protesters are literally risking their lives as evidenced by past incidents when people who have spoken against the monarchy and system of government  have “disappeared”, their bodies found drowned with cement in their stomachs. 

Of course there are always two sides; the article also shows people in the streets who support the government.

So while the pandemic rages throughout the United States, in Thailand people are taking to the streets to protest against the lack of democracy and even the authority of the system of government. These protests are illegal and risk the lives of anyone who participates. As I’m looking through images and travel information about Thailand, I’m noticing there seems to be a large disconnect between the projected image of the tourist industry and the reality for the people. 

I would like a chance to go there to see for myself.

In this National Geographic article, "A Look Inside Thailand, Which Prevented Coronovirus from Gaining a Foothold", author Sirachai Arunrugstichai (as told to Rachel Hartigan) shares photographs and stories of Thailand's efforts to thwart COVID 19 in their country.  Thailand was the first country outside of Wuhan, China to report a citizen with the virus. Their efforts to contain the spread have worked, for the most part, and are in stark contrast to what I see around me.

Even the billboards in Thailand advertise mask wearing, in a country where the public is disciplined in their efforts to do their part in order to contain the virus. Through “the cooperation of ordinary citizens,” Thailand today has a total of 3,411 cases, with only 16 cases in the last seven days.  This ad displays a jaguar wearing a mask as a way to remind the public that every individual has to do their part. The writer refers to public pressure to wear masks, but also the fact that pollution in Bangkok has made wearing a mask a common practice at times when the air quality is bad. 

My high school's mascot is the jaguar and my school district has a mask mandate. Teachers are doing professional learning in our building, but our high school students will be online only for at least the month of September. In Johnson County, our total number of coronavirus cases this morning is 8,050 cases, with 814 new cases just in the last 7 days. More than 100 per day! These numbers for my county’s 620,000 citizens continue to shock me. How does our much smaller population have so many more cases of COVID than the entire 69 million people in Thailand?