Chapter 2: Mrs. Adler

I have blamed myself for being so unaware for so long, but I was 15, young, naïve, and completely content to stay that way. I knew that other nations were angry. Scary things were beginning to happen outside the safety of my small town, but I truly believed the things that were happening outside my city could never touch me. I was foolish, and I wanted my knowledge to remain as limited as possible because a part of me believed that Ort der Hoffnung would remain untouched. I felt my life would go unaffected and that no matter what happened outside my world, I would get away unscathed. I look back on that time, and I wish I could force myself out of my secure bubble so that I might have been a bit more prepared than I was. When I think about how it all started, how reality managed to seep into my young magic-filled mind, I wish with all my heart I could have done something, changed something. Even now, I regret creating a false world to keep out the things I didn't wish to acknowledge.

I was incredibly proud to be the daughter of a soldier. It helped comfort me to create a hero in my mind, and that is exactly who my father was to me. My father was proud of his work, and I remember him sitting down at the kitchen table at the end of a long day and telling my mother and me all about his day. I loved to see how he loved to tell us about his work. I would sit and listen to his stories in a state of complete amazement and admiration. As time went on, however, things began to change. The older I got, the less he spoke about what he did. He no longer seemed to have the same joy he once had and the passion he once felt for the military. He started coming home later, he no longer smiled when leaving in the morning, and when I would ask him why he never talked about work, he just looked at me with a concerned expression and said nothing. Sometimes it seemed like he wanted to explain to me what he was doing, but something held him back, and he would give up and walk away. When I failed to get answers from my father, I would ask my mother, who also never had a definite answer for me. Luckily for her, it wasn't an issue I felt needed to be pressed, so it was quickly dropped.

I remember when the war was in, it's early stages. Some didn't think it would last long and didn't feel the need to worry; others quickly packed up and left before things became too bad. The only thing I knew at the start was that the Jews around town were being counted and registered. This action had little to no impact on my everyday life, so I blocked it out along with whatever concern I had. It had become difficult to spend time with my friend Anne, but not bad enough for me to worry too deeply. My father did an excellent job of shielding me from the horrors of what was beginning in Germany, Poland, and Russia.

"Mom," James said, looking at me wide-eyed.

I shake my head, "Just listen, please" and I continued.

One day I walked into Mr. Becker's shop after school, and he wasn't listening to his usual soft music on the radio. He was listening to someone speaking so loud that I could hear it from the very front of the store. I walked into the back room, where I found Mr. Becker standing very close to the radio with a deeply concerned expression on his usually peaceful face. When he noticed me enter the room, he shut the radio off quickly and smiled widely and said. "Oh, Beth, you surprised me."

"What were you listening too?" I asked, seating myself on a nearby stool.

Mr. Becker took a moment to reply and then said, "Nothing that concerns a young lady like yourself." He wiped some wood polish off his hands and looked up at me, "How was school today?"

I noticed a change in his voice that unnerved me, but I paid no attention to it. "Boring. I wish we learned things that didn't make me want to fall asleep."

Mr. Becker chuckled softly, "I'm sure it's not all boring."

"Oh, it is. It's okay, though, I find things to help pass the time. John and I sometimes pass notes while the teacher's back is turned. It amuses me enough, but still, sometimes, I wonder if the teacher is trying to be boring."

Mr. Becker shook his head and smirked a little. "Beth, how will you ever learn if you don't pay attention? I am sure that your teacher is not trying to torture you, but you and John know better than to pass notes in class. Perhaps the class would be more interesting if you paid attention."

I thought for a moment and then responded, "Well, John started the note-passing."

"Snitch!" I heard from behind me. It was John just walking in. He dropped his books on the floor and walked over to me with a deep frown across his face.

"Well, it was!" I exclaimed, "He wanted to talk about the mole on Mrs. Adler's face. Besides, Mrs. Adler is old and barely notices if we are in the room, let alone passing notes."

"I don't care whose idea it was." Mr. Becker said with a stern voice. "Did you hear anything that Mrs. Adler said today?"

I looked at John, hoping he had something to say, but he just gave me the same look.

"That's what I thought." Mr. Becker said, looking down at us with a furrowed brow. "I think you two better start paying better attention in class, and stop mocking people for something that is quite out of their control. You two are better than this. You know it, and I know it, so act like it and be a good example to the younger children. You two are not little kids anymore, so stop acting like you are."

Shame swept over me, and I couldn't help but look down at the floor. I was far too ashamed to look at Mr. Becker in the eye. I knew I was childish, and I was not too fond of the look of disapproval that Mr. Becker gave me every time I did something wrong.

"I'm sorry," I said, still looking at the floor.

"Don't apologize to me, young lady. I think Mrs. Adler is the one who deserves your apology. Hm?"

"We can't!" Exclaimed John "She doesn't even know we were passing the notes, let alone what they said!"

Mr. Becker stared at John over the rim of his spectacles. John gave him his sheepish grin hoping to change Mr. Becker's mind, but knowing it wouldn't work. It never had in the past, and it most certainly wouldn't work now. I suppose it was his last-ditch effort to get out of trouble.

"Don't think that that face will make what you did any less wrong. I am not going to force you to do anything. You're both nearly grown adults. I know you both are quite smart, and I also know that you know that passing notes in class, and making fun of your teacher is wrong. But you should never apologize because someone made you. You should apologize because you know it's the right thing to do."

I looked at John then back at Mr. Becker and replied in a soft voice, "Alright."

"Wait; what?" John gasped at my response, "We can't," he looked at me then back at Mr. Becker "She doesn't even know we did it, if we apologize then she....well then she'll know!" John exclaimed.

Mr. Becker contemplated John's words for a second, "Were you and Beth being respectful to Mrs. Adler today?" Mr. Becker asked.

"Well...no I guess not," John responded with deep frustration.

"Do you want to be known as a rude, disrespectful student?"

"I mean...no," John responded in surrender.

"So, what do you think you should be apologizing for?" Mr. Becker asked, sitting down and beginning to work on one of his clocks.

"Being disrespectful," John grumbled.

"So don't you think Mrs. Adler deserves your respect?" Mr. Becker gave John a knowing look.

"Yes." And the final white flag had been waved.

"Good." Mr. Becker said with a smile, "Now, will you two pick up your bags and come help me with some of these clocks?"

John groaned as he picked up his bag and hung it on the coat rack near the door. Mr. Becker went into the backroom to retrieve extra tools for John and I to use.

"Are we really going to apologize to Mrs. Adler?" John asked when he finally thought Mr. Becker couldn't hear him.

"I guess so, what choice do we have?" I responded.

"I mean, we could always just say we apologized," John said with an awkward grin.

I glared at John, "You know we can't do that, Mr. Becker would know."

"How? How would Mr. Becker find out unless you told him?" John said dramatically.

"He always knows," I answered.

"Yeah, because you always tell him!" John said as he glared at me.

"Well, I can't lie to him!" I exclaimed

"Shhhhh!" John said, covering my mouth, "Do you want him to hear?"

I rolled my eyes, "You're ridiculous."

John plopped onto a nearby chair and folded his arms, looking very contemplative.

"Stop," I said.

"Stop what?" John asked a hint of amusement in his voice.

"You know what and stop it," I answered.

"I have no clue what you are talking about," John said passively.

"Yes, you do. That's your bad idea look, and there is a reason I call it your bad idea look." I said, trying to match Mr. Becker's stern tone.

"Oh hush, you know nothing. I'm just sitting here."

"Alright," I replied, "Well, keep me out of it this time."

"Out of what?" John smiled.

"You know what." I spat back.

John laughed and proceeded to meddle with the wood shavings on Mr. Becker's desk. We spent the rest of the day helping him polish clocks, winding them, and he even taught us how to do some simple carving.

The next day I was walking to school, thinking about how I would apologize to Mrs. Adler, dreading every step I took.

"Hello!" John said, coming out of nowhere. "Are you ready for the big apology?"

I glared at him, wondering how he could be so calm about the matter. "No," I said with a sigh.

"I am," John said confidently.

I gave him a puzzled look, "You are?"

"Oh yes, Mrs. Adler likes me."

"So, what's your plan then?" I asked.

John thought for a moment, and it was a long while before John said anything. Then he said, "Don't worry, I have a plan."

"I knew it!" I exclaimed with dread.

"What?" John asked innocently.

"Yesterday, you had your bad idea face on."

"I don't know what face you saw yesterday, but I have a plan, and it's brilliant," John said looking smug

"What is it?" I asked, not entirely sure I wanted to know.

"I'll tell Mrs. Adler we were talking about the war."

"What? But we weren't." I said, confused.

"I know that, and you know that, but she doesn't, and I'm sure she'll believe me. She loves me," John said with a smile.

"You cannot blame all your bad choices on the war, John. Besides, you don't even know anything about what's happening with the war." I answered.

"So? Neither do you," John accused.

"Yeah...well...my father is a soldier, and that's all I need to know," I answered indignantly.

"It's a perfect plan, and everyone is all up in an uproar over this war, I'm sure she'll understand."

"That's horrible. You're horrible."

"War is horrible." John chuckled and shrugged.

We walked the rest of the way in silence. When John and I walked into our class, it wasn't Mrs. Adler who was standing in front of the classroom, it was an older man. John and I exchanged looks of confusion. I sat down next to my friend Anne who looked just as confused.

"Where is Mrs. Adler?" I asked Anne.

"I'm not sure," Anne said in a whisper "This is Mr. Burg. He says he is replacing Mrs. Adler."

"Replacing? Why?" I asked.

"I don't know, and he didn't give a reason," Anne responded.

I looked at John and then back at Anne. I was perplexed and conflicted, and I wasn't sure how I was supposed to apologize to a teacher who was no longer my teacher.

"Where do you think she went?" John asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. I knew as much John did. "Maybe she's sick."

"Mr. Burg said she wouldn't be our teacher anymore, though." Said Anne, fear creeping into her tone.

None of it made sense; I didn't understand. Mrs. Adler hadn't said anything about leaving the day previous. She hadn't even mentioned retiring, or being ill, or anything. I didn't know what to think of it all.

No notes were passed in class that day.

Anne, John and I walked home after school, having no idea what to think or what to say. We walked in silence for a long time, till Anne said. "Mr. Burg seems nice."

I nodded silently in acknowledgment.

"He seems strange," John said.

"What do you mean?" I asked

He thought for a moment then shrugged his shoulders, "I'm not sure, there is just something I don't like about him. When he looks over the bridge of his glasses, it sends shivers up my spine."

"Yeah, I don't like that either," Anne said.

I didn't know what to think. Mr. Burg was a tall and bald, and he had a grey mustache and cold blue eyes.

"What do you think of him, Beth?" Anne asked

"I don't know," I said honestly "But I think I am going to miss Mrs. Adler."

The rest of the walk home we spent in silence. John and I lived close to one another, but Anne lived on the other side of town, so we waved goodbye as she walked away. John and I walked over to Mr. Becker's shop, but instead of walking inside right away, we just stood outside for a moment, thinking of what we would say. Eventually, we walked in while Mr. Becker was helping an older lady with what seemed to me to be a severely damaged clock. The pieces were shattered entirely, but there wasn't a clock Mr. Becker couldn't fix. However, he and the lady didn't seem to be talking about the clock. They looked like they were having a very earnest conversation. John and I didn't want to interrupt, but when we closed the store's front door, the lady and Mr. Becker looked up. They looked startled; the lady even jumped a little. When they saw it was us, they both seemed relieved. The lady then thanked Mr. Becker and quickly left.

"What happened to this clock?" John asked.

Mr. Becker gathered the pieces and placed it on his woodwork table, then dusted his hands off and said, "She dropped it while packing. It seems she's moving"

"Oh." John said, obviously hoping Mr. Becker didn't ask about school, "Where is she moving?"

Mr. Becker looked closely at John and then at me. "That is none of your concern. How was school? Did you apologize to Mrs. Adler?"

John looked at me with eyes that begged for me to explain. I nodded and said, "She wasn't there today."

"What do you mean she wasn't there today?"

I shrugged, "We have a new teacher. His name is Mr. Burg, and he said Mrs. Adler isn't our teacher anymore. She wasn't there."

Concern crossed Mr. Becker's face "Hm. Did he say why?"

"No," John said, "She never even mentioned leaving yesterday."

"I'm not sure she was planning to leave." Mr. Becker said softly. He looked like he was lost in his thoughts.

"Do you know why she left?" I asked.

Mr. Becker shook his head and sat down at his woodwork desk. He sat in silence for a moment, then looked at John and I. "No, but I'm sure she had a good reason for leaving. No need to worry yourselves." Mr. Becker wasn't convincing even though he sounded calm, and I knew something was happening, something was changing.

"What's happening, Mr. Becker?" John asked with a concerned tone that was rare for him.

"Many things, I'm afraid." Mr. Becker replied.

"What do you mean?" I asked, anxiety building in my chest.

Mr. Becker looked at John and me for a long moment and just smiled. "Just try to stay young for as long as possible alright?"

"Are you okay, Mr. Becker?" John asked, looking worried by Mr. Becker's odd behavior.

"Don't you worry, quite yet, my young friends. Let's get to work." And he turned to get his tools.

That night at dinner, my mother was talking about something that had happened earlier that day at the market, when my father looked at me and said, "Are you alright, darling?"

I looked up at him, not sure what to say. "Mrs. Adler isn't my teacher anymore." I blurted out.

"What?" My mother said, "What do you mean she isn't your teacher anymore?"

"We have a new teacher, Mr. Burg. He said Mrs. Adler was no longer our teacher and that he was her replacement."

"Well, did Mrs. Adler mention her plans for leaving?" My mother asked.

"No, but then she might have." I thought for a moment, and maybe she had mentioned it while I wasn't paying attention. Then again, Anne had been paying attention. She wasn't bad like I was. She always paid close attention to whatever Mrs. Adler said. Anne would have mentioned it if Mrs. Adler was going to leave.

"Beth?" My mother said, "Did she say she was planning on leaving or not?"

I shook my head. "No." I looked at my father, who was staring at his plate. He seemed deep in thought.

"Do you know anything about this, dear?" My mother asked my father.

My father looked at her and shook his head and said, "No, I don't know anything." He stood, kissed my mother on the head, and said in a voice I had never heard come from my father. It almost sounded like fear. "I'm going to bed," he said, he started up the stairs.

"Goodnight, daddy," I said

My father stopped for a moment, he looked over his shoulder and said in a soft voice, "Sleep well sweet one."

The next day I walked into Mr. Becker's shop, John was sitting next to the large grandfather clock that sat in the very corner of the shop. He sat on the wooden stool that Mr. Becker used when he was carving a new clock. John was trying his best to apply what Mr. Becker had taught him about woodcarving and looked like he was having a bit of trouble. He was very focused on what he was doing and was biting his bottom lip. I remember John looked frustrated so much so that he didn't even seem to notice my presence.

"What are you carving?" I asked, trying not to startle him, but it didn't work. John jumped and dropped the block of wood.

"Gah!" John exclaimed, "Don't sneak up on me like that."

I giggled, picked up the woodblock from the floor, and looked it over for a moment. John had a few messy curves carefully engraved into it, but I couldn't quite figure out what he was attempting to make it out to be.

"What is it?" I asked as I handed it back to him.

"Mountains, I was trying to carve mountains. Unsuccessfully it seems." He sighed.

I looked closer at it "I think it looks like mountains, it just took me a moment."

"You don't have to lie," John said, looking deeply discouraged.

"I'm not, and it does look like mountains," I said with what I hoped was a sincere smile.

"You think so?" John asked with a smile of his own.

"Yes, of course," I said, trying not to let on that I was lying. "It's beautiful, John, it will make a beautiful clock someday."

"You are lying," John said with a little annoyance in his voice.

"I am not!" I said, sounding quite offended by his accusations.

"Beth, I know when you are lying."

"Oh, really? How?" I said indignantly.

"You always start playing with the ends of your hair. Just like you know when I have a bad idea by looking at my face, I know when you're lying." He said as he continued to work on his clock.

I looked down, and saw a few strands of hair twirled around the tips of my fingers. I dropped my hands as quickly as possible. I knew John knew when I was lying, but sometimes I thought he knew before even I knew I was lying.

"I'm sorry, John, I was trying to be nice. I really do think it will be a beautiful clock someday."

"Indeed, it will." I heard Mr. Becker come up behind me. "It takes years of practice to be proficient woodcarver, and this is excellent work, young John." Mr. Becker said as he took the block of wood from John's hands so he could inspect it for himself. "This shows great potential, and there is lots of love in this work, which is one of the most important parts of wood carving."

"But it doesn't look like anything but squiggly lines," John protested.

Mr. Becker took a closer look, "They're Mountains, aren't they?"

"Yes," John said with shock.

"See, I told you it looked like mountains," I said, not quite sure how Mr. Becker knew, for it did just look like a bunch of squiggly, messy curves carved into a block of wood. But Mr. Becker was always good at seeing things I couldn't, and I was glad that he understood what John needed him to know. I could tell John had worked very hard on that block of wood.

"One day, John, you will be better at making clocks than I am." Mr. Becker said, giving John an affectionate pat on the shoulder.

"It's beautiful, John," I said with a smile.

"Thanks," John said with a proud grin.

When Mr. Becker went over to the coat rack and hung up his old grey coat, I noticed something unfamiliar on his vest.

"Mr. Becker, what's that?" I pointed to the star sewed onto his black vest.

He looked down at the yellow star, sighed deeply, and then looked at me and said in a calm voice.

"The beginning of the end, my dear."