Appendix

1) Transcript for the Lesson 1 "Remember the Children" video. Found at http://www.ushmm.org/information/exhibitions/museum-exhibitions/remember-the-children-daniels-story/video

A1: Transcript for Daniel’s Story film

[Somber music]
Remember the Children: Daniel's Story
This is the story of a boy named Daniel and how he survived the Holocaust.
It is based on the stories of children who experienced the Holocaust in Germany, the Lodz ghetto, and the concentration camp at Auschwitz.
[Joyful music]
Daniel: My name is Daniel. This is a story of when I was a boy in Germany. It is a story of millions of kids, and grown-ups, too. Most of all, it’s the story of my family: father, mother, my sister Erika, and me.
[Footsteps, kitchen sounds, laughter]
Daniel: We lived in a house with a yard and I had my own bedroom. Those were happy times, for me and my friends.
[Kettle whistling, footsteps, doorbell ringing, doors opening and closing, clock ticking]
Daniel: People in our town respected my father. He was a solider in the First World War and got a medal for bravery. One birthday he gave it to me and I was very proud. I also got a bike, a soccer ball, and a diary to write in.
Dear Diary, This is my family—my mother, my father, and Erika. We live in a town in Germany [hand-drawn picture of family]
[Shouting of propaganda in German]
Daniel: When I was 11, things began to change in our town. A group of people called Nazis took over Germany. They were trying to rule the world. They hated anyone who wasn’t just like them, and that meant us because we were Jewish.
Text on screen: Scary Changes. Many things were changing in Daniel's life. The Nazis were taking over. See what happened in Daniel's school. Find out what happened to his family's store. Look for the rock that was thrown through the window.
[Radio playing]
Radio announcer: Munich, Germany, September 29, 1938. Attention! Attention! We are broadcasting from the capital of the Nazi movement. In a speech today, Nazi leaders said and we quote, “Our party fights the Jewish element and insists on its removal inside and outside Germany. The Jews must be driven out.”
Signs: No Jews allowed! Only for Jews!
[Radio fades]
Daniel: Have you ever been punished for something you didn’t do? We were. They attacked our family’s store and wouldn’t let people shop there. Then Jewish kids couldn’t go to public school anymore.
[Sounds of fire]
Daniel: Our synagogue was burned down. My father cried. The Nazis made us wear yellow stars. ‘Jew’ was printed on them in big, black letters.
Text on screen:
ORDERS FOR THE YELLOW STAR
1. Cut the star the size of your hand
2. Color it YELLOW
3. Outline it in BLACk
4. Write JEW in black letters
5. Set is tightly to your clothes on the left side
JEWS ARE FORBIDDEN to appear in public without the Yellow Star!
Dear Diary, A new law says we must sew a Yellow Star on our clothers to show who we are. I don't want to wear it! Daniel.
[Sounds of train]
Daniel: The Nazis sent us far away from home to a ghetto, a crowded and dirty place.
Text on screen:
GHETTO RULES
Do not Stop Near The Fence
No Talking At Work
No One Allowed On The Streets After Dark
Salute German Officials. Take Off Your Cap and Bow Your Head.
No Jewelry Allowed. Give All Jewelry To The Police.
[Voices talking in different languages]
Daniel: We were trapped. There were rules about everything.
Dear Diary, We work all the time. Even Erika. We have no choice! We can't even go to school. We all work and earn nothing. Daniel.
[Baby crying]
Daniel: My family lived together in one small room.
[Woman singing, kitchen sounds, coughing, voices murmuring]
Dear Diary, A pot of water with one turnip is cooking on the stove. Turnips. It's all we get. They stink. Daniel.
Daniel: We thought it couldn’t get worse than the ghetto, but it did.
Dear Diary, My worst fear has come true. They are taking us away. Daniel.
[Train sounds]
August 15, 1944. Dear Diary, I see men, women, children, and babies being forced into trains. Now I know the end of the ride is a concentration camp. Daniel.
[Somber music]
Daniel: When we first got off the trains, the Nazi guards pushed us into lines. They took all our bags away. I had to give up my diary, my family photos, and my father's medal.
Mother and Erika were separated from my father and me at the camp. We never saw them again.
I miss them. We found out later they were murdered. Many other people died there too. Sometimes I thought I’d be killed, but I wasn’t.
[Somber music]
Visit my house in Germany. Go to the ghetto. Go to the concentration camp.
Read my diary and see how I survived. Remember my story.

Remember the Children: Daniel's Story. An exhibition presented by the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum.

A4: Excerpt from The Book Thief by Marcus Zusak
Zusak, Markus. (2006). Excerpt from 'The Book Thief' by Markus Zusak. Retrieved November 25, 2015, from http://abcnews.go.com/GMA/Books/story?id=1638501&page=1

DEATH AND CHOCOLATE

First the colors.

Then the humans.

That's usually how I see things.

Or at least, how I try.

***HERE IS A SMALL FACT***

You are going to die.

I am in all truthfulness attempting to be cheerful about this whole topic, though most people find themselves hindered in believing me, no matter my protestations. Please, trust me. I most definitely can be cheerful. I can be amiable. Agreeable. Affable. And that's only the A's. Just don't ask me to be nice. Nice has nothing to do with me.

***Reaction to the AFOREMENTIONED fact***

Does this worry you?

I urge you -- don't be afraid.

I'm nothing if not fair.

-- Of course, an introduction.

A beginning.

Where are my manners?

I could introduce myself properly, but it's not really necessary. You will know me well enough and soon enough, depending on a diverse range of variables. It suffices to say that at some point in time, I will be standing over you, as genially as possible. Your soul will be in my arms. A color will be perched on my shoulder. I will carry you gently away.

At that moment, you will be lying there (I rarely find people standing up). You will be caked in your own body. There might be a discovery; a scream will dribble down the air. The only sound I'll hear after that will be my own breathing, and the sound of the smell, of my footsteps.

The question is, what color will everything be at that moment when I come for you? What will the sky be saying?

Personally, I like a chocolate-colored sky. Dark, dark chocolate. People say it suits me. I do, however, try to enjoy every color I see--the whole spectrum. A billion or so flavors, none of them quite the same, and a sky to slowly suck on. It takes the edge off the stress. It helps me relax.

***A SMALL THEORY***

People observe the colors of a day only at its beginnings and ends, but to me it's quite clear that a day merges through a multitude of shades and intonations, with each passing moment.

A single hour can consist of thousands of different colors.

Waxy yellows, cloud-spat blues. Murky darknesses.

In my line of work, I make it a point to notice them.

As I've been alluding to, my one saving grace is distraction. It keeps me sane. It helps me cope, considering the length of time I've been performing this job. The trouble is, who could ever replace me? Who could step in while I take a break in your stock-standard resort-style vacation destination, whether it be tropical or of the ski trip variety? The answer, of course, is nobody, which has prompted me to make a conscious, deliberate decision--to make distraction my vacation. Needless to say, I vacation in increments. In colors.

Still, it's possible that you might be asking, why does he even need a vacation? What does he need distraction from?

Which brings me to my next point.

It's the leftover humans.

The survivors.

They're the ones I can't stand to look at, although on many occasions I still fail. I deliberately seek out the colors to keep my mind off them, but now and then, I witness the ones who are left behind, crumbling among the jigsaw puzzle of realization, despair, and surprise. They have punctured hearts. They have beaten lungs.

Which in turn brings me to the subject I am telling you about tonight, or today, or whatever the hour and color. It's the story of one of those perpetual survivors -- an expert at being left behind.

It's just a small story really, about, among other things:

* A girl

* Some words

* An accordionist

* Some fanatical Germans

* A Jewish fist fighter

* And quite a lot of thievery

I saw the book thief three times.

BESIDE THE RAILWAY LINE

First up is something white. Of the blinding kind.

Some of you are most likely thinking that white is not really a color and all of that tired sort of nonsense. Well, I'm here to tell you that it is. White is without question a color, and personally, I don't think you want to argue with me.

***A REASSURING ANNOUNCEMENT***

Please, be calm, despite that previous threat. I am all bluster--

I am not violent.

I am not malicious.

I am a result.

Yes, it was white.

It felt as though the whole globe was dressed in snow. Like it had pulled it on, the way you pull on a sweater. Next to the train line, footprints were sunken to their shins. Trees wore blankets of ice.

As you might expect, someone had died.

***

They couldn't just leave him on the ground. For now, it wasn't such a problem, but very soon, the track ahead would be cleared and the train would need to move on.

There were two guards.

There was one mother and her daughter.

One corpse.

The mother, the girl, and the corpse remained stubborn and silent.

"Well, what else do you want me to do?"

The guards were tall and short. The tall one always spoke first, though he was not in charge. He looked at the smaller, rounder one. The one with the juicy red face.

"Well," was the response, "we can't just leave them like this, can we?"

The tall one was losing patience. "Why not?"

And the smaller one damn near exploded. He looked up at the tall one's chin and cried, "Spinnst du?! Are you stupid?!" The abhorrence on his cheeks was growing thicker by the moment. His skin widened. "Come on," he said, traipsing over the snow. "We'll carry all three of them back on if we have to. We'll notify the next stop."

As for me, I had already made the most elementary of mistakes. I can't explain to you the severity of my self-disappointment. Originally, I'd done everything right:

I studied the blinding, white-snow sky who stood at the window of the moving train. I practically inhaled it, but still, I wavered. I buckled -- I became interested. In the girl. Curiosity got the better of me, and I resigned myself to stay as long as my schedule allowed, and I watched.

Twenty-three minutes later, when the train was stopped, I climbed out with them.

A small soul was in my arms.

I stood a little to the right.

The dynamic train guard duo made their way back to the mother, the girl, and the small male corpse. I clearly remember that my breath was loud that day. I'm surprised the guards didn't notice me as they walked by. The world was sagging now, under the weight of all that snow.

Perhaps ten meters to my left, the pale, empty-stomached girl was standing, frost-stricken.

Her mouth jittered.

Her cold arms were folded.

Tears were frozen to the book thief's face.

Excerpted from The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

Copyright © 2006 by Markus Zusak.