Understories. Tim Horvath
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Moreover, the students are more inclined to challenge him directly. “What exactly is the point of all this?” one asks.
He’s heard the question before, in a less acidic tone. Nevertheless, he holds his ground and answers patiently. “Germany’s forests are a source of her history, her greatness. If we do not understand what is around us, we will never understand who we are or where we are going.”
But the students are not as quickly appeased by this sort of answer as they once had been. “Where we are going has nothing to do with the woods and these Hansel and Gretel fairy tales,” one says. “Germany’s greatness is in its blood, its resolve. Our science ought to be about the Volk, not the trees.”
On a desk in his classroom, someone has written “Who gives a flying damn what’s in the canopy?” Because he holds class inside more often now, he is forced to look at it day after day. And in different handwriting, frighteningly neat and compact, someone has written, “Is a Jew hanging in a tree shade-tolerant?” beside a drawing of a hanged man dangling from a noose. No longer does he admonish them about carving in the trees. Recently, he has sighted a couple of swastikas etched into them, and he shook his head and said nothing. It occurred to him then that the swastika, with its many straight lines, might very well have been invented by a veteran carver of trees.
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