Our students arrive in Budapest, bringing with them the energy, laughter and sense of sheer joy that only teenagers can muster after traveling for almost 24 hours. They greet their counterparts from Scheiber Sandor Gimnazium (SSG) with hugs and excited conversation, for some a reunion from when SSG visited Beth Tfiloh in Baltimore this past December.
In between bites of pizza, introductions to students new to the program, and instructions from the adults about tomorrow’s activities (wear layers and comfortable shoes; don’t be late for the bus; take a shower), they begin to settle into a rhythm that announces their presence and feels like home. After a full day of teaching classes to 12th and 8th year students and leading a professional development workshop for English faculty, I, too, feel lifted by the energy in the room.
Today I taught my SSG students how to tell their stories. Modeling NPR Stoop Stories series, I told the Year-12s my own story of a much-anticipated cat-sitting gig — the challenges of which included a sick cat and a dead mouse. My Year-8’s got to hear that I chose my dog, Mandie, over the other puppies at the rescue shelter because she was the only one to jump up to greet my husband and me, and she was black and white like my beloved first dog Sheba, a possible sign of Sheba’s heavenly blessing.
I wonder if they will now regard me as “that crazy cat and dog lady from America” and hesitate to ask them the next question in the lesson: What do our stories reveal about us? But I cannot expect them to step through a door unless I open it first, so I ask what my stories have revealed about me, and the answers fill me with emotion: Caring, Fun-loving, Spiritual – that last one elevates the conversation as we discuss the difference between spiritual and religious.
Sometimes those definitions – Religious/Spiritual, Storyteller/Listener, Student/Teacher – blur into one another. As the teacher, I tell them my stories so they can craft their own, and, yet, I learn from my students.
Tomorrow we will venture out of the school building to explore the beauty of the city but also to remember 
those who were murdered there at the Shoe Memorial on the Danube River. It is a place I have visited before with other students, so I know that for those moments, as we look out among the shoes and pray for the Jews they represent who perished there, the students will grow quiet, their laughter will cease. They will understand this is part of their story too, and, like the joyful moments, this one will contribute to the connection and community they are building together.
