On March 9, the Jewish Museum in Tel Aviv, Israel reopened. Previously, the museum spent about 100 million US dollars to refurbish. The museum has added a matching service for distant relatives. Visitors can use electronic bracelets to explore cultural elements related to themselves and have the opportunity to find relatives who are related by blood.
he big holidays were getting closer and closer. The teacher, serious by nature, became stricter and more demanding from day to day, because his school was supposed to honor the fateful, great day of the examination. His rod and ruler never came to rest, at least with the smaller students. Only the big boys and the young ladies from Sunday school escaped chastisement. And Mr. Dobson’s beating was worth something among brothers, because although he hid a completely bald and shiny skull under his wig, he was still in the strongest manhood and the strength of his muscles left nothing to be desired. As the big day drew nearer and nearer, all the tyranny that slumbered within it came to light. He punished the slightest omissions and mistakes with cruel gusto. The consequence of this was that the children spent their days in horror and torment, their nights forging sinister plans for revenge. They never missed an opportunity to play a trick on the teacher, but the teacher always remained the master. The punishment given to each such[189] The small act of revenge that followed was so magnificent, so devastating, that the boys left the battlefield completely “defeated” each time. At last a conspiracy arose and a plan was hatched that promised the most brilliant victory. The conspirators took the painter’s son into trust, who was his father’s apprentice, explained the plan to him and asked for his help. He now had his own reasons for joining the plan of revenge, for the teacher lived in the house of the house painter and had given the boy enough cause for the most thorough hatred. The teacher’s wife wanted to visit the country in the next few days and so nothing stood in the way of carrying out the plan.
When the time was fulfilled the great event occurred. At eight o’clock in the evening the schoolhouse shone in the glow of the candles and in the decoration of the threads of leaves and flowers. The teacher was enthroned majestically on his chair, the black board behind him. The parents of the children and the dignitaries of the city sat on benches on both sides, the rows of pupils stretched out in front of the chair, here the boys who were so washed and dressed up that you could see their discomfort, there the girls, in snow-white Muslin, visibly imbued with the uplifting awareness of shimmering in bare arms, blue and red ribbons and flowers in your hair. ‘The people’ formed the background.
[190]
The exam began. A tiny little boy got up and recited with a sheep face:
“Hardly do you believe that such a little bug
As I, dare to speak to you, «etc.
where he accompanied his lecture with the meticulous, jerky movements of a machine, moreover a machine that seemed to be out of order. But he certainly stumbled through to the end, even if he was scared to death, folded his upper body down with a bow, got a real storm of applause from the grateful audience and withdrew with a sigh of relief.
A shy little girl lisped to her:
“A little lamb, white as snow,
One day went to the pasture, ”
made a pathetic curtsey, got her share of applause, and sat down again, glowing red and blissful.
Tom Sawyer stepped forward, full of proud but deceptive confidence, and began to declaim the famous ode to “freedom” with thunderous pathos and ecstatic gestures. But woe! When he reached the middle, his memory just left him, the “stage fright” seized him, his knees trembled, he threatened to collapse or suffocate. He felt sorry for himself from the house, but also had the silence of the house. The teacher scowled, his forehead furrowed threateningly; this made the calamity complete. Tom stammered, stuttered for a while, then gave up and withdrew, every inch a beaten hero! A weak attempt at applause that tried to rise was nipped in the bud.
Now followed:
“The boy stood on the burning deck.”
Then:
“Assur’s power once came down”
[191]
and other such declamatory jewels. Now came reading exercises and a real crossfire in the art of spelling. The meager Latin class passed their cause with honor. Then the main act of the whole evening approached – the lecture of self-made essays and poems by the “young ladies.” One by one, each stepped to the edge of the dais, cleared his throat, got up her manuscript, which was wrapped in a delicate volume, and began to read with the necessary effort of expression and feeling. The themes were the same as those that their mothers, grandmothers, and no doubt all of the family’s female ancestors back to the Crusades:
Most of these effusions were characterized by a strong predilection for the emotional. The greatest waste of sublime expressions and idioms was also a common trait, as was the forcible use of well-known and popular phrases and quotations. Inevitably, the end here as there was a moral application that was applied as strongly as possible. Regardless of what the subject dealt with, with a bold leap the end ended without distinction in an extremely edifying contemplation, which could not be listened to without emotion and which allowed a flattering conclusion about the virtues of the beautiful admonisher.
The title of the first essay read was: “ So this is life? «Perhaps the reader has patience enough to read an excerpt from this:
»With a drunken eye, with a joyful heart, the youthful spirit looks forward to the joys of life to be expected.[192] The imagination busily paints rose-colored pictures of bliss for him. In her spirit, the young beauty sees herself as a ›lady of the world‹, in the midst of the swaying, festive bustle, joking, laughing, being eaten, courted, celebrated, ›looking and looking‹! Her graceful figure glides in billowing, white robes on the waves of the whirling dance, her eyes shine brightest, her step is the most elastic in the whole cheerful company. Time quickly disappears beneath such flickering, alluring fantasy structures and the longed-for hour appears, the hour which is supposed to bring us into that Elysian world that is able to awaken such wonderful dreams. How magical everything and everything appears to the blinded eye! Every new scene is more charming and alluring than the previous one. But the intoxication only lasts for a short time! It soon becomes apparent that there is hollowness beneath the shiny exterior. The flattery that once captivated the soul now hurts the ear with a shrill sound, the ballroom loses its charms. With shattered health and a bitter heart, the ‘child of the world’ turns away, deep in her bosom with the conviction that earthly joys are incapable of satisfying the desires of the immortal soul! ”
And so on.
A murmur of approval from time to time interrupted the lecture. A: ‘how beautiful’! >well said<! or 'how true'! could be clearly distinguished, and after the thing ended with a particularly uplifting conclusion, the applause became quite enthusiastic.
Then a slim, melancholy-looking girl, her face that interesting pallor that comes from pills and poor digestion, got up and read a "poem." The following verses may suffice:
Farewell to a Missouri maiden in Alabama.
"Goodbye, Alabama, I love you,
And yet I have to let go, I have to avoid you.
[193]
The grief gnaws at my heart
I remember you with ardent longing.
How did I roam the flowery woods
Curled along the banks of your waters
Dreamingly listened to the murmur of the waves,
In Auroren's beam I am blissfully intoxicated.
I do not shyly hide my heart full of excess,
Don't blush to show the burning pain.
It is not for strangers in the distant land,
Only the friends, the loved ones that I have known.
You were my consolation to me, all my happiness;
I long for the valleys of Alabama's back.
Oh, now I lost it, I realize it too late:
My life, my heart, is rooted there – too late! "
First a black-eyed and black-haired young lady appeared on the podium, took an effective break from art, assumed a tragic demeanor and began to read aloud in measured, expressive tones:
A vision.
“The night was dark and stormy. Not a single star flickered in the sky above, only the dull roar of thunder vibrated constantly in the terrified, listening ear, while bright lightning flashes in unleashed wildness ripped through the cloudy heavenly chambers and seemed to mock the power that the great Franklin assumed over them. Even the stormy winds came unanimously out of their mysterious cave and snorted and roared along, as if they wanted to make the great scene even better with their presence. At such an hour, equally dark, equally desolate and appalling, my whole being once cried out for the balm of human compassion. For free! Suddenly:
›They appeared, who are my consolation, my guide and my advice,
My happiness in sorrow, my all 'came to my side.
So she floated like one of those shiny, graceful beings with which youth and romance meet[194] populate the sunny corridors of her Eden, a queen of beauty, only dressed and adorned with her own incomparable loveliness. Her step was so quiet, it made no sound and only the magical shiver of joy that trickled through my whole being at her gentle touch betrayed her presence to me, otherwise she would have floated away like other beauties that were not self-confidently intrusive to the eye, unnoticed and unseen. Like icy tears on the garb of December there was a peculiar sadness on the beloved features when, seriously pointing to the elements fighting outside, she asked me to contemplate the two beings represented by the same people. "
This nocturnal ghost filled ten pages of the manuscript and ended in a sermon of such devastating, hopeless effect on all non-believers that the essay won first prize and was unanimously declared the best performance of the evening. The mayor of the town presented the happy author in a solemn address, saying that it was by far the "most eloquent, most pathetic" thing he had ever heard, and that the great Daniel Webster himself should have been proud of it.
In passing, it may be noted that the number of articles in which the word "wonderful" was used with preference and human experience was mentioned as "a page in the book of life" reached the usual average.
Now the teacher, who had become so meek and soft through the success of the evening that his manner almost touched amiability, pushed his chair back, turned his back on the audience and began to draw a map of America on the blackboard. to be able to do the geography exercises on it. But his unsteady hand would not parry him in the matter, a suppressed giggle ran through the house. He knew what it meant and[195] gathered all his strength to pull himself out with honor. He ran the sponge over the unsuccessful lines and patiently went back to them, only to twist them more and more, and the giggles grew clearer and clearer. He threw himself on his work with power and full attention, determined not to upset himself by the apparent serenity[196] allow. He felt that all eyes were on him; he thought he was finally in the right channel, and yet the giggling went on, in fact it even increased. And there was reason enough to do so. On the upper floor there was an attic room with a flap in the floor under which the teacher was just standing. A cat appeared through this flap, hanging on a rope tied around its hind legs and having a thick rag wrapped around its head and mouth to prevent it from screaming. As she slowly sank down, she curled up and tried to cling to the rope with her paws, in vain! She just reached into the incomprehensible, unstable air with her paws. The giggles swelled and swelled. The cat was now only six inches from the unsuspecting teacher's head. She sank lower and lower; one more span and now she struck the desperate claws in the wig of the schoolmaster's head, clung tightly to the welcome hold and at the same time was pulled back to the flap, the trophy firmly in her predatory claws! The schoolmaster's bald head, however, shone in unimagined, magical splendor – the painter's son had the same gold plated !
This brought the festivities to an abrupt end. The boys were avenged – the holidays are here!
Annotation. The so-called ›essays‹ cited above are taken without change from a book with the title: »Prose and Poetry by a Lady of the West.« As precise studies based on the familiar ›schoolgirl pattern‹ they are consequently far happier examples than could have been mere replicas.
