Excerpt from THE WOMAN AT THE GATES
From THE WOMAN AT THE GATES releasing September 2nd. books2read.com/WomanGates
***
Late Summer 1945
ich laufe
du läufst
er/sie/es lauft
wir laufen
ihr lauft
sie / Sie laufen
As Antonia finished writing the last line, twenty-seven children filed into the classroom, ranging from ten to about fourteen. She dusted the chalk off her hands and checked for stragglers in the courtyard. It was empty apart from an old leather ball. The sun was warming the cobblestones so that they shimmered. The poplar was just beginning to turn from green to gold, and seven geese flew in formation to the south.
Antonia clapped. “All right, take your seats. Take your seats now. I know it’s a beautiful day.” She repeated it in the other languages, examining the faces of the children, all old enough to bear the scars and traumas of war. She glanced at the chalkboard and determined she could not bear to conjugate German verbs today.
She turned her back on the blackboard, on the phrases she’d so carefully tried to make legible in her awful hand. The students were waiting, anticipating what she would do next. She ought to be teaching them English if she wanted to spoon-feed any hope here. German was hard. Life had been harder. And she wished fervently that she could make it easier for them.
“Open your notebooks,” she said, the idea still forming in her head. “I want you to draw a picture of a world you want to live in.”
There were some frowns, but a couple of the students seemed eager to tackle the task. Yet others had not quite understood what she wanted from them. She continued, the idea still not complete, but she felt a stirring excitement as it began to develop in her mind. “Yes, and when you are finished, I will have you pass your drawing to the next student. That student…”
She pushed herself away from the desk and picked up a notebook from Janosz, one of the Polish boys, who had already begun drawing. He looked up at her as if expecting to be admonished, so she smiled at him and winked.
“For example, Janosz will hand his drawing to Martin, and Martin will write what he sees in Janosz’s picture, using only German verbs and nouns—no sentences. All right, Martin?” Not letting go of the notebook, she made an exaggerated jump from Martin to Isabella behind him. “Then Isabella will use Martin’s words and Janosz’s drawing to write a poem. Yes,” Antonia decided. “That is what we will do.”
She returned to Janosz and ruffled his hair. By the time she’d finished delivering her instructions, the students were beginning to work with eagerness. Antonia leaned on her desk for a moment before moving from student to student, delighted to see that the drawings were taking shape.
At the front of the room again, she gazed at them, these young souls, these survivors. She should have had them conjugate the word “to live” instead of “to run.” Inspired, she went to the chalkboard and wiped away the verb laufen and rewrote the conjugations. It was a poem in itself.
Ich lebe
du lebst
er/sie/es lebt
ihr lebt
sie / Sie leben
wir leben
Wir leben. We live. Followed by the Ukrainian, the Russian, the Polish, the Latvian, the Lithuanian, the Czech and the Slovak. She looked back upon her students to see if she had missed anyone.
A soft knock at the door sent a pang of guilt through her. The director would probably wonder why the students were drawing rather than learning German grammar.
“Come in.”
But it was Lena who ducked her head in. “Antonia.”
It was how her sister said it that made Antonia straighten, that caused her chest to constrict. No. No more bad news. No. But when Lena’s mouth broke into a sly smile and she tugged at her earlobe, Antonia’s heart tripped and stumbled in her breast. Her sister stepped aside and revealed the corridor. Antonia fell against the desk so hard that all twenty-seven faces looked up in alarm.
All she could whisper was, "We live."
(If you enjoyed this extract, please share this post. This book could use your boost. Thank you so much!)
books2read.com/WomanGates
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/5...
***
Late Summer 1945
ich laufe
du läufst
er/sie/es lauft
wir laufen
ihr lauft
sie / Sie laufen
As Antonia finished writing the last line, twenty-seven children filed into the classroom, ranging from ten to about fourteen. She dusted the chalk off her hands and checked for stragglers in the courtyard. It was empty apart from an old leather ball. The sun was warming the cobblestones so that they shimmered. The poplar was just beginning to turn from green to gold, and seven geese flew in formation to the south.
Antonia clapped. “All right, take your seats. Take your seats now. I know it’s a beautiful day.” She repeated it in the other languages, examining the faces of the children, all old enough to bear the scars and traumas of war. She glanced at the chalkboard and determined she could not bear to conjugate German verbs today.
She turned her back on the blackboard, on the phrases she’d so carefully tried to make legible in her awful hand. The students were waiting, anticipating what she would do next. She ought to be teaching them English if she wanted to spoon-feed any hope here. German was hard. Life had been harder. And she wished fervently that she could make it easier for them.
“Open your notebooks,” she said, the idea still forming in her head. “I want you to draw a picture of a world you want to live in.”
There were some frowns, but a couple of the students seemed eager to tackle the task. Yet others had not quite understood what she wanted from them. She continued, the idea still not complete, but she felt a stirring excitement as it began to develop in her mind. “Yes, and when you are finished, I will have you pass your drawing to the next student. That student…”
She pushed herself away from the desk and picked up a notebook from Janosz, one of the Polish boys, who had already begun drawing. He looked up at her as if expecting to be admonished, so she smiled at him and winked.
“For example, Janosz will hand his drawing to Martin, and Martin will write what he sees in Janosz’s picture, using only German verbs and nouns—no sentences. All right, Martin?” Not letting go of the notebook, she made an exaggerated jump from Martin to Isabella behind him. “Then Isabella will use Martin’s words and Janosz’s drawing to write a poem. Yes,” Antonia decided. “That is what we will do.”
She returned to Janosz and ruffled his hair. By the time she’d finished delivering her instructions, the students were beginning to work with eagerness. Antonia leaned on her desk for a moment before moving from student to student, delighted to see that the drawings were taking shape.
At the front of the room again, she gazed at them, these young souls, these survivors. She should have had them conjugate the word “to live” instead of “to run.” Inspired, she went to the chalkboard and wiped away the verb laufen and rewrote the conjugations. It was a poem in itself.
Ich lebe
du lebst
er/sie/es lebt
ihr lebt
sie / Sie leben
wir leben
Wir leben. We live. Followed by the Ukrainian, the Russian, the Polish, the Latvian, the Lithuanian, the Czech and the Slovak. She looked back upon her students to see if she had missed anyone.
A soft knock at the door sent a pang of guilt through her. The director would probably wonder why the students were drawing rather than learning German grammar.
“Come in.”
But it was Lena who ducked her head in. “Antonia.”
It was how her sister said it that made Antonia straighten, that caused her chest to constrict. No. No more bad news. No. But when Lena’s mouth broke into a sly smile and she tugged at her earlobe, Antonia’s heart tripped and stumbled in her breast. Her sister stepped aside and revealed the corridor. Antonia fell against the desk so hard that all twenty-seven faces looked up in alarm.
All she could whisper was, "We live."
(If you enjoyed this extract, please share this post. This book could use your boost. Thank you so much!)
books2read.com/WomanGates
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/5...
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