[Sondra Perl]

in reply to: Revision: Patrick James #835

Absolutely!

[Sondra Perl]

in reply to: Writing the ordiary woman #831

Marguerite,
For me, your comment about seeing your mother as a woman of mythical proportions provides a necessary counterpart to Writing True’s point that nobody cares about one’s mother unless one makes them. Somewhere in between those two things is one of the things that (I think?) makes memoir compelling to me. That moment of transformation between mundanity and myth is incredibly powerful.

• This reply was modified 11 years, 4 months ago by Sondra Perl.

[Sondra Perl]

in reply to: Megan H. Austrian Soil #826

Megan, I think your questions here are very important: “How do we memorialize traumatic history without retraumatizing people in the retelling? Without avoiding shock factor or imposing political or social agendas over the event? Without being revisionist?” These are very crucial questions, and the same concerns might be applied to process of writing memoir as well. How do we remember without imposing an agenda? How do we give voice to painful memories without traumatizing people in the retelling? Again, I think it’s a matter of bearing witness, the central objective of memorials, what professor Perl might call response-ability. I think we are all called to respond to the pain of others–the basis of empathy and compassion. And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with engaging readers/spectators in painful experiences they may wish to avoid. There are many moments when I want to turn away from the pain of the holocaust, simply because the horror is at times unbearable. But I’m not sure I have that right, because that would be the irresponsible thing to do–I am able to resound, and that response leads me out of a passive engagement with trauma into something that has the capacity to heal. I love your phrase, “the words we build to speak back to the event,” which I take as a euphemism for the work of both memorials and memoir–and perhaps there’s something to be said about the etymologies of the words–their direct connection to memory.

[Sondra Perl]

in reply to: Joanna Siwiec Response: S. Perl: On Austrian Soil #809

Joanna,
I read your response right after reading the New York Times article that Lindsey posted on reconciliation. I found myself wondering, what does forgiveness mean within a family? The New York Times article told stories of people forgiving those who had hurt their families, but what does it mean to forgive one’s family for hurting others? This question is difficult for me to understand, never mind answer.

[Sondra Perl]

in reply to: Lindsey's Response to Perl's on Austrian Soil #808

Lindsey,
The link to the New York Times article was beautiful. Thank you.

[Sondra Perl]

in reply to: Megan H response: On Austrian Soil #807

Dear Megan,
Your sense of asserting your American-ness and New Yorkness when in Korea, especially when you felt linguistically isolated, struck a chord for me. I too sometimes feel as though it takes overwhelming difference to make me feel like part of a national, religious, or cultural group. Normally, all I can see are the differences that set me apart from every group I (should) belong to.
I get the sense from your writing that you don’t (yet) know yet how you feel about being an American New Yorker. I also wonder how all of this is “translating” now that you’re back in New York.

[Sondra Perl]

in reply to: Joanna Siwiec Response: S. Perl: On Austrian Soil #796

That was amazingly courageous Joanna.

Families bring so much narrative in from other generations; it’s amazing if we find a piece of brain matter that isn’t embedded with the opinions of others.

We humans are curious beings, but as a whole, we don’t ask the questions (for a multitude of reasons) that need to be asked.

The idea of “epistolary” communication is a method that should be used more often, particularly in education, to convey things that are often so difficult to address in person.

I think the letter writing between the Professor and Margaret was essential to their relationship and growth. I don’t think they would have had the same intimacy and mutual clarity if their relationship was soley based on face-to-face communication. Writing gives the writer a stage all to themselves, to be heard without interruption. Also, it’s a great way for the writer to actually read back what they wrote, something that cannot be done when we talk, especially face-to-face. (just as we are participating in now)

It’s a shame that I cannot ask the questions my parents never asked their parents (because they have passed away). It’s my belief, that with time, distance and skipping a generation or two, often gives way to clarity.

I’m part Polish too! 🙂

[Sondra Perl]

in reply to: Patrick's Response: Sondra Perl, On Austrian Soil #767

Patrick:

I believe that the Professor’s use of writing letters to Margret and other students worked magic. Writing gives us great pause, endless uninterrupted time to think.
Epistolary communication offers a way to bridge topics that would not be broached face-to-fact (think of email/blogs/texting today-granted things do get lost in translation, we only have emoticons to emphasis words/meanings)

Being physically present is hard enough in the most benign of circumstances; with topics that are uncomfortable, it is almost impossible to say what we mean. Our ego gets in the way, we pick up on gestures, of sounds, of sight, and we let our reactions control the conversations.

I wonder to create a less stressful writing class for younger students, if epistolary is a way to jump start writing essays and other forms of writing.

[Sondra Perl]

in reply to: On Austrian Soil #762

Chrislande,

I think it’s awesome that this book makes you want to teach. And I love your formulation of teaching as a creative act, “an emotive art form, similar to writing where little acts, like words, come together to piece the story of how we learn—which informs the process of how we heal.” The more I re-consider my attitudes about reading and writing, the more I re-consider my attitudes about teaching. You are absolutely right that it is creative, in the sense that it’s performative: it involves a bit of theater, an ability to command a space, a talent for giving shape to coherency. I’m thinking of the set up of a traditional classroom, how it really does mirror that of a theater. The desks are arranged in rows like seats for the audience, and the teacher inhabits a space that’s like a stage. Seminars are different in that they usually happen around a table–which is, I guess, a kind of theater-in-the-round.

And with that in mind, writing is kind of like theater too. There is a performance on the stage of the page. It reminds me of what we talked about earlier at the start of the semester–about voice. One’s writing voice is a bit like an actor on the stage, articulating the thoughts of an author. And, I think this can get into all sort of interesting ideas about persona. Does the writing voice speak for the author? Does it define the author? I’m not sure, but I think it’s interesting.

[Sondra Perl]

in reply to: On Austrian Soil #761

Chrislande,

You wrote: “HOLOCAUST is a lauded word. One that I can’t write without full capitalization. Familiar with the Jewish genocide, I don’t feel that I have grasped the idea of 6 million people dying while the world watched—and in the case of Austria: while a country helped.”

It happens all the time, over and over.

I read stories of atrocities, of accounts of horrific misery, of unbearable pain, so I can bear witness. I want those who died, not to have died in vain. I want to shout, I will remember you.

Today, I am amazed how victims forgive their perpertators. Look at the link I posted on Rwanda. It is unbelieveable.

I do not know how people can have such grace.

https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2014/04/06/magazine/06-pieter-hugo-rwanda-portraits.html?_r=0

[Sondra Perl]

in reply to: Maggie_Response to On Austrian Soil Part I #760

These are such great questions, Maggie, and I am so glad you are raising them. I have taken those ethics surveys — and those scenarios you need to read about and then figure out the right ethical response. But I think they are trying to focus on sexual harassment in the workplace and not how to teach sensitively about sensitive topics. I don’t see how you can teach literature without discussing values and choices. That doesn’t mean a professor has to talk about his or her sex life. But if sex is part of the book or poem or play, how can you not address what it means, how the characters deal with it, what’s hurtful, what’s joyful, etc.? Same for abuse or trauma. How can you exclude these and student responses to them in a discussion of literature?

I don’t necessarily say a lot about myself in my Lehman classrooms. It is, admittedly, different when teaching adults, some of whom may or may not be teachers. But on the first day of class, I tend to let my students know how much I love teaching, how much I look forward to creating the class with them, how much of what we do will, I hope, lead to honest discussions, their growth, and, not incidentally, fun. When my mother was dying this fall, I ended up letting my freshmen know. In part, it felt wrong to pretend that everything was fine; in part, I had the feeling that I would need to cancel at least one class…but more than that, I wanted to be able to be real with them — and to have them with me through the process. I didn’t dwell on it; but they were part of what sustained me last fall. Again, knowing just how much to say takes some experience. But I would encourage you to trust yourself as you did above — and then to realize that the classroom is about them — their responses — their ideas much more than it is about your performance. 🙂 Enough said for now.

[Sondra Perl]

in reply to: On Austrian Soil #759

That’s so beautiful, Chrislande. So honest. So real. I was in my late 40s when I first traveled to Austria. The third trip (the last course with the Austrian teachers) occurred when I had turned 50. So it was, truly, a journey that encompassed what felt like a lifetime or at least half a century. What I’m trying to say is that even with having lived and taught for many years, I was unprepared for what happened. The good thing was that I had enough experience as a writing teacher to know that I had to pursue the questions.

So it heartens me that the story is leading you to see teaching as a place where meaning gets discovered and created in artistic ways, where we learn from the journey in each new class, each new telling.

Thanks.

[Sondra Perl]

in reply to: Megan H response: On Austrian Soil #757

Hi Megan,
I am struck by your willingness to share how my story has brought you to a place of real introspection about your relationship to your Korean identity, to your own silence and also to what sounds like your own questions about your readiness or competence to be a teacher who guides others. I do think learning to teach is a lifelong journey as is coming to terms with and embracing who we are. For sure, my own Jewishness was highlighted in Austria in ways it never was in the US. But more important was allowing myself to turn towards what was moving in me and to write about it so that I could see it more clearly. Even when that was very hard.
It sounds as if you are embarking on this process for yourself.
Thanks for letting us all in on it.

[Sondra Perl]

in reply to: On our Professor's Austrian book #756

Hi James,
Yes….fraught is the right word. Such complicated histories that can’t be put to rest.
Since you asked, my family on both sides left Russia and Poland in the early part of the 20th century — fleeing pogroms, for sure, but no one I am aware of was caught up in Hitler’s onslaught. Initially this ‘lack of direct connection’ made me feel as if I had no right to address the Holocaust or perhaps that I stand in some remove to it as I am not a descendant of the victims. But then I began to see that one can choose to take this on no matter where one stands — that it is a human question and human loss and human responsibility.

For me, being willing to meet Anna and Luis was what mattered, not what they said as a result of our meeting. Anna seemed capable of compassion and of warmth. Luis was stone-like. In the end, they were just two old people, and what mattered to me, as I wrote towards the end, was the way this history could now be carried by Margret’s daughter.

And it sounds as if you and Marguerite have also had your own harrowing experiences in Belgium.

[Sondra Perl]

in reply to: Joshua's Response: Sondra Perl, On Austrian Soil #751

Hi Joshua,
I wrote back to you last week but something odd is going on as my post has disappeared.
So, once again, thank you for your generous and caring response. I find this line particularly poetic:
‘Sondra again and again encourages the idea of “dialogue” in On Austrian Soil, providing a metaphorical door that opens out onto all kinds of hitherto suppressed, buried discourses, rendering light and voice upon darkness and silence, both in her students and herself.’

Rendering light and voice upon darkness and silence.

I could sit with that for a long time.

Bakhtin’s notion of ‘response-ability’ is something I have carried since that time in Austria….so that none of us needs to feel guilt about actions taken in our names or as part of our country’s history, but we do need to respond to the pain those actions have caused and continue to cause in others….it is incumbent upon us, I think, to make a human gesture, to listen and to respond. Something even the Austrians in my class had a hard time learning to do. But in the end most did.

I also love the Faulkner quote and am thinking that it asks us to consider how history lives in us.

• This reply was modified 11 years, 4 months ago by Sondra Perl.

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