Little thought about Anne Frank

Just this week, I had the good fortune to see an excellent documentary film entitled "Anne Frank Remembered." (This not to be confused by Miep Gies' book of the same title.) It featured various people who had known Anne and her family, and I very much enjoyed seeing how this 'fleshed out' the picture of Anne. For example, one old friend, laughing, said that Anne had been her school mate, and that "God knows all, but Anne always knew better." Another family acquaintance mentioned that Anne had been quite a naughty child, though her beloved papa was one to make allowances for her. The film naturally went into varied details about Anne's eventual imprisonment and death, but today is not one in which I care to dwell on horrors such as the Holocaust. I'm just recording some random observations - since there is a certain detachment one can have when one is not a parent, and is neither an adolescent nor at the age when one's kids are only 13 (and, as many parents do, one falls into the trap of totally forgetting youth and thinking that teenagers fall at parents' feet in homage and invariably praise their brilliance.)

I had read Anne's diary some years ago, and, once I saw the documentary, thought I might wish to do so again. I searched a bit on Amazon (both sites... well, two out of three, since I'm too weary to try to remember my rusty German for Amazon Deutschland). Since most of what I've studied about Anne Frank herself (rather than the Holocaust in general, with which I had a terrified acquaintance long before) was in adulthood, it had not entered my mind that many teachers must use the book in classes where pupils are adolescent. I was amused that certain reader reviews seemed wary about exposure of kids to the book (which I'd think inspiring in many ways) - not because it deals with the Holocaust, nor because the ending is tragic and might frighten readers. The concern was that Anne spoke disrespectfully of her mother and other adults in the Annexe.

I obtained a copy of Anne's diary this week, and had several impressions directly related to that last 'fear.' I noticed, in the very beginning, that Anne mentioned having rather poor grades in her school work. (I did laugh when she spoke of punishment homework for being a Chatterbox.) I wasn't surprised. Much in the diary shows a girl with high intelligence and exceptional literary and analytical ability - her poor grades obviously did not stem from poor academic ability. Yet her candour and sophisticated knowledge of human nature (at least in relation to the 'old folks,' if not to Peter) in the diary, which showed promise of her being a great writer, would not have endeared her to teachers (or indeed to most adults.)

Whether Anne said things outright or not (and somehow I cannot imagine her being reticent), the older crowd well may have been uneasy knowing she could 'see through' them. Certainly, one must allow for that Anne was of an age when one would be unlikely to see 'all sides' of a problem; that the fright and confinement would intensify emotions; and that what she perceived, for example, as her parents' 'loveless marriage' may reflect the limited knowledge one has of love at 13. Still, I am inclined to think some of her assessments were spot on. (In fact, I was less offended by her treatment of the 'old' than of her cheeky evaluations of her class mates - and her sense that all the boys were enamoured of her.)

Even John Henry Newman received his degree with only third class honours... Those with top grades often are not the most brilliant students. Intelligent, yes - but those who have top marks in everything often know just how to tell the examiners what they want to hear. Of course, Anne's diary was intended only for her own eyes - but I would imagine the elders who wanted to be respected could well sense her feelings and insights. The cheeky do not endear themselves to those in authority - yet, had Anne's life had anything like the span of Newman's, I believe her writings could have been really quite splendid.