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"First They Came for the Jews" By Pastor Niemoller First they came for the Jews and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew. Then they came for the.

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Presentation on theme: ""First They Came for the Jews" By Pastor Niemoller First they came for the Jews and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew. Then they came for the."— Presentation transcript:

1 "First They Came for the Jews" By Pastor Niemoller First they came for the Jews and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew. Then they came for the Communists and I did not speak out because I was not a Communist. Then they came for the trade unionists and I did not speak out because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for me and there was no one left to speak out for me. The poems message is… This poem makes me feel/think about… I can make a text-text, text-world, text-text connection to this poem. It reminds me of ___________ because…

2 Rewrite the Poem Directions: Consider that something like this could happen today (or maybe you feel it already is). Rewrite this poem using groups of people for which it would be easy for you to “not speak out.” Example: First they came for the gothic kids and I did not speak out because I don’t know them Then they came for the preppy kids and I did not speak out because I don’t understand them Then they came for the athletes and I did not speak out because I don’t act like them Then they came for me and there was no one left to speak out for me Original First they came for the Jews and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew. Then they came for the Communists and I did not speak out because I was not a Communist. Then they came for the trade unionists and I did not speak out because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for me and there was no one left to speak out for me.

3 1.What do you think is going on in this picture? 2.What do you think the boy is thinking or feeling based on his facial expression and body language?

4 “To the Little Polish Boy Standing with His Arms Up" By Peter L. Fischl I would like to be an artist So I could make a Painting of you Little Polish Boy Standing with your Little hat on your head The Star of David on your coat Standing in the ghetto with your arms up as many Nazi machine guns pointing at you I would make a monument of you and the world who said nothing I would like to be a composer so I could write a concerto of you Little Polish Boy Standing with your Little hat on your head The Star of David on your coat Standing in the ghetto with your arms up as many Nazi machine guns pointing at you I would write a concerto of you and the world who said nothing I am not an artist But my mind had painted a painting of you Ten Million Miles High is the Painting so the whole universe can see you Now Little Polish Boy Standing with your Little hat on your head The Star of David on your coat Standing in the ghetto with your arms up as many Nazi machine guns pointing at you And the World who said nothing I’ll make this painting so bright that it will blind the eyes of the world who saw nothing Ten billion miles high will be the monument so the whole universe can remember of you Little Polish Boy Standing with your Little hat on your head The Star of David on your coat Standing in the ghetto with your arms up as many Nazi machine guns pointing at you And the monument will tremble so the blind world Now will know What fear is in the darkness The world Who said nothing I am not a composer but I will write a composition for five trillion trumpets so it will blast the ear drums of this world The world’s Who heard nothing I am Sorry that It was you and Not me

5 The Poet – Peter Fischl The poet was a hidden child during the Holocaust. A traumatic experience that marked Peter’s life before the Holocaust came at age eight when he was taken to the offices of the slaughterhouse in Budapest, Hungary, on a business trip with his father. Peter heard the screams of the animals being slaughtered, and he wandered through the open door, straight to the slaughterhouse area, and stood on the fence watching the carnage as several hundred animals were killed. Butchers gave each animal an electric shock in the ear, and when the animal fell on its side, the butchers moved in with huge knives and saws, cutting the animal in half, cleaning out the innards, and hanging the halves on hooks. The young child stood in horror and disbelief as butchers slopped around in the animals’ blood, going from one to another in brief minutes. The last animal alive was a small calf that fought valiantly for his life. The first two butchers chased the spirited calf and slipped and fell into the pool of blood on the floor as the calf bolted to freedom. Other butchers joined forces, becoming covered with splattering blood as the calf dashed and circled, trying to escape. Peter screamed a “bravo” for the little calf that seemed to look at him, his sad eyes saying, “I’ve done my best. Farewell!!” The small boy watched in horror as seven butchers descended on the defenseless calf, finishing him in seconds. The arena was empty now. Only Peter stood at the fence crying. Little did he know that in a matter of a few years, he and his family would stand in the middle of their own “arena of death.”In March 1944, Peter was walking along a street in Budapest when the Nazi troops, the true butchers of the world, occupied his city. Knowing what had happened in Poland in 1939, Peter ran home and asked his father if they, too, could be butchered. His father answered, “Yes.” Peter became a “hidden child” by hiding in a Catholic school with 60 other Jewish children, and on November 27, 1944, his father called him from his hiding place. With the shouting and shooting by the Germans in the background, Peter was almost speechless as his father said “farewell” for the last time. That young boy has struggled his entire life with dreams of seeing his father coming home. He first saw the photograph of the “Little Polish Boy” in the late 1960s in a Life Magazine, November 28, 1960 issue, on page 106, as it was taken by photographers for Hitler’s birthday as a gift. Shaken, he immediately identified with the “Little Polish Boy.” For four or five years he struggled with the boy in the photo, often talking to him. Early one morning, Peter went to his typewriter and wrote the poem so that millions could not remain indifferent and silent in the face of the senseless, outrageous carnage of the Holocaust. Peter Fischl lives in Burbank and his sister lives in Hollywood, California, the only survivors of their family, victims of the Holocaust, one of mankind’s most egregious crimes against humanity.

6 Poem Analysis Directions: Answer the following questions in complete sentences. 1.Pay attention to the use of repetition. What lines does the poet repeat and what effect does it have on the reader? 2. What does the poet wish to do for the little boy? (he mentions specific things) 3. What does the poet hope these things will accomplish? 4. Based on what you know about the poet’s personal life, why do you think he may have connected with this picture so deeply?


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