My mother, a nurse at Stony Brook University Hospital, worked at night so that she could come home in time to send me to school. She'd sleep during the day and be ready when we returned home before heading out again in the evening. This went on for 23 years. She never complained (抱怨). No matter how tired she was, she always had enough energy to be my mom.

She often had to work on holidays, even on New Year's Eve, which made me unhappy. However, before holidays she always decorated the inside and outside of our house. She'd also have cookies baking in the oven, a holiday­themed movie in the VCR, and music playing throughout our house for us. But when it was time to go to work, there was no room for debate. "Why do you have to work on this day of all days?" I'd ask sadly. "They need me, too, dear son," she'd say.

For a long time, I didn't understand why she should care so much about those sick strangers. Recently, as my grandmother became ill, I found myself spending more time in the hospital. The scenes I saw in the hospital made me see the different side of my mother. The nurses checked the heart, blood and oxygen levels to make sure patients were comfortable. They lifted patients in and out of bed and helped them to the bathroom. Beyond their duties, the nurses showed consideration(体贴) for each patient.

What I saw helped me understand why my mother was devoted to her occupation (职业). I was filled with more appreciation for my mother.

Southwest High School teacher Tiffany Messer had visited the U.S. Holocaust (大屠杀) Memorial Museum as a student but saw it from a new angle as an educator looking for new ways to bring an understanding of Holocaust history into her classroom. Messer was one of 221 teachers across the US who attended the 24th annual Arthur and Rochelle Belfer National Conference for Educators, a three-day workshop that was hosted by the museum. The annual conference is part of the museum’s ongoing effort to provide educators with the knowledge and skills so that they can bring Holocaust education back to their classrooms in an effective and relevant way.

Messer, now in her third year of teaching at Southwest High School, was looking for professional development opportunities and saw information on the Belfer conference online. It fitted her love for history, particularly European history, and a desire to teach it to her students in the most engaging way possible. One of the things she learned is that bringing a historical event to a personal level helps to deepen the understanding of that event.

Walking through the shoe room at the museum, you can see the massive piles of discarded (丢弃的) shoes that tell the story of the thousands of Jews who died in concentration camps. Their shoes and suitcases are just some of the personal items that belonged to mothers, fathers, sons and daughters. “One of the things they stressed at the conference is you don’t talk about the Holocaust in terms of the people — you talk about it more on the scale of numbers,” she said.

Messer hopes her students will come away from lessons on the Holocaust with a reminder that history is circular and repeats itself. “My goal in teaching them, I want them to become better citizens,” Messer said. “I want them to realize that because one person said others looked different or acted differently, it changed the world in a negative way. We don’t have to do it again.”

One day, when I was going to check in at an airport, I noticed there was a big problem. The counter person was telling everyone that all the planes were having problems and they would not be able to fly! And it was suggested that a bus would be provided to take us to Seattle. Everyone was worried, as we only had an hour and a half to make the connecting flight, and the bus was not even at the airport yet.

Finally, the bus pulled up, and the driver said, “They just pulled me out of bed after an all-night shift(夜班), and they expect me to get you to Seattle in time to catch your flight. Good luck!”

Needless to say, everyone was in a really bad mood. I was loading my baggage into the bus and had slung my banjo(班卓琴)over my back when the bus driver said, “What? Are you going to play that in my bus?” “Well, really did not plan on it,” I replied. “I was only kidding,” said the driver. But I started thinking about it, and I pulled out the banjo. A worried, angry woman said, “Well, what if I don’t like it?” “Then tell me and I’ll stop.” I replied.

We drove off, and the tension made the atmosphere inside the bus horrendous! Then I started plucking(弹奏)the old standard Blue Skies. In a few minutes, I noticed everyone was singing along. I started to sing, too, and before long, the whole bus burst into song.

One song led to another. Everyone laughed and sang, with food passed around the bus, and before long, the airport was in sight.

The bus driver called, “We made it! We never would have done it without the help of our banjo player.” Shouts of approval rang through the bus. People exchanged addresses and invitations to visit, and a few exchanged hugs.

A few weeks later, my mailbox was filled with letters from my new friends. Their letters reminded me of how, by reaching out with just a song or a bit of friendship, you can turn a very tense situation into a peaceful experience—a magical, musical bus ride.