In Remembrance of Things Past: Abitur 1986 an der DSW Peter Dreher
To the Abitur Class of 86! Sometimes the simplest actions in our lives--the washing of a car1, for example--trigger our minds unexpectedly, and an uncontrollable stream of memories floods our dull complacency. In a flash we realize that the routine we have come to accept as the norm has been permanently altered into the intangible--into memory. It is a universal experience yet paradoxically unique to each individual. My memory of the graduating class is characterized in a more than ordinary degree by impressions made over four years. What remains for both teacher and students is a series of impressions that forms the texture of our days at the German School. Klassenbuch -- Ordnungsdienst -Hausordnung -- kleine Pause -- grosse Pause -- Erbsensuppe -- eine Durchsage -- term papers -- Arbeiten -Protokolle oral reports -- quizzes -- Lehrausflug -reports -- Notendurchschnitt Punktzahl. The game of associations could keep any DSW student or teacher talking for hours. As time dims as well as sweetens our remembrance of things past, these word-triggers will, no doubt, assume magical power to summon an experience "that wasn't so bad after all."
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Although some of the graduates claim to have been at the School since infancy, my association with present class began in 1982 when ten students from this year's graduating class weathered tenth grade with me. To their credit, during all this time, they have neither complained about my pedagogical anecdotes nor given any indication that they have heard them before. These original ten, I concluded, have either very poor
152 Fifty Years German School
memories or a great deal of diplomatic finesse. Interest during that year seemed especially keen. I recall that the artistic talents of several students revealed themselves in a caricature of their English teacher--labeling his attributes clearly. The fact that these particular students are now in the business of selling T-shirts with political cartoons emblazoned on them only shows how important those early years were. The eleventh grade proved to be a great struggle and challenge for us all. From the very first class hour, we worried about THE term paper. The students hoped that it would miraculously be written before the night of the due date; and the teacher secretly prayed that he would have enough time to read them all before the report cards were due. As we collectively worried, we fought with Henry Fleming, hunted with Captain Ahab, sinned with Hester Prynne, and dreamed with Tom Sawyer. We pondered "the drizzly Novembers in our souls" and sang "the body electric." The twelfth grade passed before we could comprehend it. In fact, the entire year might best be divided into the BC and AC periods (before and after Charlestown2). Traveling under the blanket of darkness, the senior class journeyed south with all the characteristics of a tribal ritual. The innocents left on a Friday and returned the following week with distant gazes and smiles of experience on their faces. The thirteenth grade--an anomaly for any American high school teacher--proved especially rewarding for me. It had all the makings of a tale from the Brothers
