Something bothered Ben Ross. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he was intrigued by the questions the kids in his history class had asked him after the film that day. It made him wonder. Why hadn't he been able to give the students adequate answers to their questions? Was the behaviour of the majority of Germans during the Nazi regime really so inexplicable?
That afternoon before he left school, Ross had stopped at the library and taken out an armful of books. His wife, Christy, would be playing tennis that evening with some friends, so he knew he would have a long period of uninterrupted time to pursue his thoughts. Now, several hours later, after reading through a number of books, Ben suspected that he would not find the real answer written anywhere. It made him wonder. Was this something historians knew words could not explain? Was it something one could only understand by being there? Or, if possible, by recreating a similar situation?
The idea intrigued Ross. Suppose, he thought, just suppose he took a period, perhaps two periods, and tried an experiment. Just tried to give his students a sampling, a taste of what life in Nazi Germany might have been like. If he could just figure out how it could be done, how the experiment could be run, he was certain it would make far more of an impression on the students than any book explanation could ever make. It certainly was worth a try.
Christy Ross didn't get in that night until after eleven o'clock. She'd played tennis and then had dinner with a friend. She got home to find her husband sitting at their kitchen table surrounded by books.
"Doing your homework?"
"In a way, yes," Ben Ross replied without looking up from his books.
On top of one of the books Christy noticed an empty glass and an empty plate with a few crumbs from what once must have been a sandwich.
"Well, at least you remembered to feed yourself," she said, picking up the dish and placing it in the sink.
Her husband didn't answer. His nose was still stuck in the book.
I bet you're just dying to find out how badly I beat Betty Lewis tonight," she said, kidding him.
Ben looked up. "What?"
"I said I beat Betty Lewis tonight," Christy told him.
Her husband had a blank look on his face.
Christy laughed. "Betty Lewis, you know, the Betty Lewis who I've never won more than two games in a set from. I beat her tonight. In two sets. Six-four; seven-five."
"Oh, uh, that's very good," Ben said absently. He looked back down at the book and started reading again.
Someone else might have been offended by his apparent rudeness, but Christy wasn't. She knew Ben was the kind of person who got involved with things. Not just involved, but utterly absorbed in them to the point where he tended to forget that the rest of the world existed. She'd never forget the time in graduate school when he got interested American Indians. For months he was so wrapped up in Indians that he forgot about the rest of his life. On weekends he'd visit Indian reservations or spend hours looking for old books in dusty libraries. He even started bringing Indians home for dinner! And wearing deerskin moccasins! Christy used to get up some mornings wondering if he was going to put on war paint.
But that was the way Ben was. One summer she'd taught him to play bridge, and within a month not only was he a better bridge player than she, but he was driving her crazy, insisting that they play bridge every minute of the day. He only calmed down after he won a local bridge tournament and ran out of worthy competitors. It was almost frightening, the way he lost himself in each new adventure.
Christy looked at the books scattered about the kitchen table and sighed. "What is it this time?" she asked. "The Indians again? Astronomy? The behavioural characteristics of killer whales?"
When her husband didn't answer, she picked up some of the books. "The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich? Hitler's Youth?" She frowned. "What are you doing, cramming for a degree in dictatorship?"
"Not funny," Ben muttered without looking up.
"You're right," Christy admitted.
Ben Ross sat back and looked at his wife. "One of my students asked me a question today that I couldn't answer."
"So what else is new?" Christy asked.
"But I don't think I ever saw the answer written anywhere," Ben told her. "It just may be an answer they have to learn for themselves."
Christy Ross nodded. "Well, I can see what kind of night this is going to be," she said. "Just remember, tomorrow you have to be awake enough to teach an entire day of classes."
Her husband nodded. "I know, I know."
Christy Ross bent down and kissed him on his forehead. "Try not to wake me. If you come to sleep tonight."