Читать книгу We're in America Now - Fred Amram - Страница 17

X. SCHOOL DAYS

AS SOON AS WE SETTLE IN with the Strausses, a woman from the HIAS comes to visit. She’s taller than Mutti and dressed in a black wool suit. Papa has taught me to recognize wool. Her skirt comes almost to her ankles. She has a black coat and a black felt hat just like Papa’s hat except that the HIAS lady has a many-colored feather in her hat. And she is carrying a black briefcase. The lady speaks German to Mutti and to me. She says that she has come to visit me. I suspect it’s a trick. No grown-up wants to visit a kid. Nevertheless, I play along.

“How would you like to go to an American school?” she asks in German.

“Ya! Ya! Ya! Oh, Ya!”

Mutti interrupts to tell the HIAS lady that I’ve never been to a school, German or American, and that I can’t speak English.

I pipe in that I’ve learned many words since we moved to New York. I show off a little of my vocabulary: “Cookie, hot, dog, yes, no, school …”

“Very good,” says the HIAS lady before I really get momentum. Everyone seems to be in an interrupting mode so I continue.

“Walter has taught me to say ‘encyclopedia.’” I think that it’s the name of a book. Mutti thinks I’ve said a naughty word and apologizes to the HIAS lady. Mutti tells the lady that I’m usually a good boy. She gives me her angry look with tight lips and half closed eyes burning into me.

The visitor is impressed. “Can you spell that?”

I shrug and say a string of letters. “Pretty good,” says the lady. “You still have a little bit to learn so I want to take you to the nearby school today to see if we can get you registered.” All this in German.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” I say “Yes!” over and over until Mutti puts her hand over my mouth.

“Of course, you may come along,” the lady says to Mutti. I’m disappointed. I see adventures ahead and Mutti often says “No” when Papa and others say “Yes.”

We all put on our warm coats and face the winter air. As we walk, I make clouds with my breath.

When we arrive at the school, we follow the HIAS lady to an office and we stand against a wall, trying not to be in the way of traffic. A clerk asks us to sit. Eventually the HIAS lady is ushered into an inner room and we wait. I had never imagined that schools have offices. I pictured going into a classroom with other boys my age. I pictured reading and writing and games. That’s how grown-ups described school.

I try to sit quietly, hoping to make a good impression. Mutti often tells me that squirming makes a poor impression. I’m not quite certain what a poor impression does. However, I do know that this is an important day to make a good impression.

When the HIAS lady returns, she has a sad face and she’s looking at her feet. “I’m afraid I have bad news,” she begins. “The principal won’t let you into the first grade until your English has improved, even though you’re six years old. You must attend kindergarten until next spring. Then, in the fall, you can attend the next level.”

Mutti and the HIAS lady discuss the matter for several minutes. They sound as if the sky has fallen, but I don’t understand what they’re saying. I’m not disappointed at all. I’m going to school.

The HIAS lady explains that we’re to show up here at 8:30 on Monday morning. “Come to this office and someone will take you to the kindergarten classroom.” Then she opens her bulging briefcase and takes out a picture book. “This is a story in English and you should look at it over the weekend. Perhaps you already know the story.”

I recognize the picture on the cover: A little girl with a red cape and a wicker basket. Rotkappchen. A story my Oma Jetchen told me when I sat on her lap in Hannover. The HIAS lady helps me sound out the title, Little Red Riding Hood.

“Now let’s go for ice cream if the weather isn’t too cold for you.” Mutti explains to me that it’s customary for Jews to associate sweets with learning. Rabbis usually put honey on the fingers of beginning students. When the student learns to read a new letter or word, the child can lick the honey from a finger. Learning should be sweet.

At the ice cream store, the HIAS lady pays after she asks me to pick a flavor. I point to strawberry and say, “Red” to show off the new English word I learned from the cover of my new book.

While I eat my ice cream, trying not to make a mess, Mutti and the HIAS lady have a serious discussion. I listen carefully because they’re talking about me. Mutti tells the lady that I seem unable to see with my right eye. It’s been like that since birth. Mutti says she noticed it when I was a toddler. A doctor assured her that nothing can be done and that it will probably improve by itself. My eye didn’t improve, but when I grew a little older, Jews in Germany were excluded from health care. No more access to doctors. Mutti asks the HIAS lady if she can find an eye doctor for me, adding that we have no money and no jobs. The lady writes some words in a notebook and then she looks at me real funny. I cover my eyes. She tells Mutti that she will do her best to help.

School is great. I copy the other children all the time. When the teacher says, “Sit in a circle,” I sit on the floor with the other children. When she says, “Go to your desks,” I watch the other children and imitate. Of course there is much I don’t understand. When the teacher reads to us, I recognize only occasional words and when she asks me questions I often shrug. I don’t understand many questions or instructions. Some of the children call me “dummy” and poke fun at the slow kid. My pronunciation causes many giggles. Yet I know that I am learning and I’m ecstatic despite the teasing. The teacher praises generously when I succeed at something.

One day our teacher reads a book about jumping frogs. I have no clue what the story is about. Then she has three of us come to the front of the room and stand in a line. She gives some instructions and then says, “One, two, three, jump.” “Four,” I shout just as the other children jump.

“Can you jump?” asks the teacher.

I shrug.

“Jump,” she says and gives a little hop.

“Yump,” I say and imitate the teacher’s jump. Student giggles.

“Wonderful! Now say ‘jump.’”

“Yump.” The class is almost out of control with laughter. I try desperately to hold back the tears but a few escape. I quickly wipe them on my sleeve hoping that no one notices.

Our teacher makes some weird sounds, slowly saying all the parts of ‘jump.’ There is a sort of ‘d’ sound followed by a sort of ‘g’ sound. Does she know that the sound she wants from me doesn’t exist in German? I have never heard it.

“Now, say, ‘jump,’” she encourages.

“Dgump,” I try and she claps and all the children follow her cue and applaud. Slowly I am the butt of fewer and fewer jokes.

We sing Christmas songs and I help the students pronounce O Tannenbaum. There is a short Christmas vacation during which I try to read books the teacher has lent me. Mutti helps. Her English from high school is so good that she can read almost all the words. With some of the food money from the HIAS, Mutti buys a Wörterbuch that has words in English and in German. She teaches me to say Wörterbuch in English: “Dictionary.”