Excited, she stepped slightly back, and in an almost out-of-breath, hurried, rat-a-tat fashion saying, “I just have to tell you.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.  After all these years, I still just can’t get that Holocaust class out of my mind.  That yellow star is still branded into my heart.  I see that yellow star every time I pull out my underwear drawer.  I deliberately put it there so I knew I’d see it every day.  The ‘Jew’ on it just screams at me every day, and I think about what good I’m going to that day.   I even read the first page of the syllabus once a week.  You just don’t know what’s happened to me since that class.  I’m not shy anymore and I don’t do things by what I think other people will think or say, or by who they want me to be.  I’m not afraid anymore.  Me! I’m becoming more and more brave.   I’m so conscious of struggling not to be prejudice, I watch every word I say and everything I do and I’m so aware of other people and being respectful to them.  I now refuse to be the onlooker and bystander I once was.  I refuse to be one of those silent good people.  Me!  Can you believe it?  I call down my friends, boyfriend, my parents, especially my mother, my sisters, people in my church back home, anyone, once did it to my preacher, and talk with them.  And it all began with you and that class.  You’re not just my favorite teacher; you’re my best professor; you transformed me into a much, much better person than I ever thought I could be, all in one class.  They called it a ‘Perspective Class.’  Boy was that the truth!  It sure effected mine.”

Dumbstruck, eyes watery, I couldn’t find any words.  Before I could utter at least a “thank you,”  She gave me another hug and said abruptly, “I’m late for class.  Got to go.  I saw you and just wanted you to know that you’ve made a big difference in my life and maybe in other lives I’ve touched.  Bye.”

 And off she hurriedly ran into the Phsy Ed building.  I just stood there, frozen, numb, deeply humble, a tear or two falling from my eyes.  There was such joy in her voice, and I still don’t know who she was, but she sure knows.  I turned and walked faster than normal, thinking “this is what education should be,transforming,” and struggling to remember her words.

I’ve got to get to work on the book I want to write about that Holocaust class with its “Star Project,” and break through the organizational barrier that’s been stopping me these past two years.