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Illustration © 1999 by Robert Mayo

Tears at the Wall By Dan Nukala How, Mr. Nukala wondered, could he convey to his students the immediacy and impact of a visit to the Vietnam Memorial?

THERE ARE three things I remember about my first visit to the Vietnam Memorial in Washington, D.C. I remember how quiet it was. In the midst of a very loud, very busy city, this small area was silent. I remember the people searching along the polished granite of the Wall. Some ran their fingers lightly along the surface, touching hundreds of names before finding the one they wanted. Others moved slowly, hands at their sides, as if afraid to touch the surface. Still others strode purposefully to the panel they sought, as if drawn by some invisible magnet. One man traced the name of someone dear onto a sheet of parchment. Another walked the length of the Wall, turned, then walked slowly down the Wall again, repeating his journey 10 times. He never once stopped. He touched no names. He simply walked his 10 times down the Wall and back -- and then left.

But what I remember most are the small offerings that people left at the base of the Wall. Photographs and flowers. Medals. Boots and shoes. Dog tags. Stuffed animals. I wished that I had brought something to leave at the Wall, too.

I teach in Germany for the Department of Defense Dependents Schools. My students' parents are connected with the military in some way. For most of my students, at least one parent has been on active duty for many years. I began to wonder how much my own students knew about the Vietnam Memorial and how many of them had ever seen and felt the solemn majesty of its black, mirrored surface. I wanted my students to be able to access history in a way that was meaningful to them, a way that was more than just reading about Vietnam in a book or seeing fleeting images in a movie. I wanted them to find out what part their own parents had played in that conflict and what effects the Vietnam War had had on their lives.

In short, I wanted them to learn something about human history by studying history in a way that brought it to life for them and for our community. I wanted them to talk to people who had actually been involved in the making of history on scales large and small. I wanted them to talk to people who could enlighten them about the terrible sacrifices that freedom sometimes demands.

And so we began our "living history" theater project, Vietnam: Tears at the Wall.

How We Began

I knew that I wanted a theatrical production to be one end product. But I also knew that I wanted the students to do much more than just write scenes and string them together into some sort of "play." I decided early in the process that each student should keep a journal with interview notes, research materials, photographs, and personal reflections. Long after the play was over, I wanted them to remember the experience.

We began by talking about war. Why do men fight wars? Under what circumstances is war necessary? What are the human costs of war? What do soldiers think about before, during, or after a battle? How do they feel when the battle is over and they have survived? What is it like for the families of the soldiers?

Since we were in a military community, it was relatively easy to find people who were willing to come in and talk with the students about their own memories of Vietnam. We spent several days just listening to men and women talk about Vietnam. About specific battles and locations. About individual acts of bravery or cowardice. About the politics of the war. About the draft and about the antiwar marches at home. Students were fascinated by this first-person history and filled their journals with observations and reflections.

I never know what people mean when they talk about heroes. I always thought heroes were only on Saturday morning cartoons or in myths. But I think that simple people can do very heroic things when they have to. They find the strength to somehow do what everyone else says can't be done. (Jason)

* * *

I knew nothing about Vietnam except what I'd seen in movies. "There's something about the smell of napalm in the morning." That's what I remembered. I never knew what we were fighting for in Vietnam. And some of the men who talked to us never knew, either. That's very sad, I think. (Kelly)

* * *

You always see the scenes where the soldier is leaving, but you don't get much about the family left behind. I can't imagine what it would be like to go to bed at night wondering if my Dad was going to get killed while I was sleeping. What would I say to my Dad if I knew it was the last thing I'd ever get to say to him? (Dan)

Making Progress

As time wore on, I came to realize that I couldn't put any arbitrary constraints on this project. The students needed time to do research. They wanted more time to talk to specific sources and to find additional information. Some of them visited the home of one of our speakers, where they looked at pictures and mementos.

We were gathering mountains of information, much more than we could possibly use in a single performance. But the students were determined to follow every lead and to go where their discoveries took them. Even after they had selected their one story to build on, many of them continued to interview new sources and research new materials.

I just couldn't stop once I got started. I wanted to know everything about the POWs. I wanted to know how many there were, where they were kept, how they managed to survive for so long. I wanted to talk to their families about how they felt. I just wanted to know. (Marcella)

* * *

I talked to one woman who was really bitter about everything. She thought her husband was stupid for going to Vietnam, even though he didn't really have a choice. She thought if he loved her more then he would have found a way to stay home. When they gave her the flag from his coffin, she didn't even want to hold it. (Marcella)

We took our time. We talked about the Wall itself. I told them about the many gifts that people left at the base of the Wall. We read parts of Laura Palmer's book Shrapnel from the Heart, in which she has actually traced some of the objects to the donors and found the story behind them. We asked our human sources what objects they would leave at the Wall if they could.

We talked about relationships and about the dynamics of how people relate to one another. Who brought these offerings and for whom? Mother for son? Father for son? Wife for husband? Child for father? Teacher for student? Friend for friend?

Without even knowing it, we had discovered our theatrical "hook." We would present a series of scenes showing what people brought to the Wall and why.

Moving Ahead

It was time to write, but we did not hurry. We set no arbitrary deadlines for our writing. Each student built a story (monologue or scene, whatever seemed to work best) around one physical object. As students completed their drafts, they were shared with other class members, who responded thoughtfully.

I thought Marcella's piece about the lady with the flag was really good. It's so bitter and yet somehow not bitter. You can really understand where the lady is coming from. She lost the man she loved, and she didn't understand why. So she blamed the country and the politicians because people need someone to blame when things go bad. You feel better when you can pin it on someone else. I worry about the ending, where she throws the flag on the ground. I wonder if that's a good idea for our audience. (Jason)

* * *

I got the story of the walkie-talkie from my Dad. I knew he was in Vietnam, but he never talked about it before I asked him. He told me about his friend who he grew up with and joined the army with and how that guy got killed in Vietnam. And my Dad said that he always wanted to tell Mike, but he never really did. So I thought if I wrote this monologue, he could tell him. (Jason)

* * *

I think Kelly's story about the father and the baseball glove is really good. I think a lot of fathers wish they took more time to play with their kids when they were little and they remember that when they get older. It would be really hard to be a parent and lose a child in war. What would you say? I think you'd want to hold on to every little thing your child ever had. So when the father brings the baseball glove and leaves it at the Wall, I think that's very powerful. He's giving up something that means everything to him. (Martha)

Putting It Together

Once we finished our scenes, we took three weeks to put the presentation together. I have to say that it was a very easy rehearsal experience. Each student already knew his or her scene inside and out, so there were no problems with memorization. We decided to let the performers connect to the audience directly. Most of the performers had never been on stage before, but you would never have guessed that by the end result.

I knew exactly what I wanted to do with my scene. It was like a movie in my head with everything already planned out. I never wanted to say anything more in my whole life. (Jason)

* * *

I wanted my scene to be very dramatic. I think I was doing too much at first. Then the group told me to just calm down and be more natural. I was trying to plan every little move and gesture. Once I just let it happen, it felt very real. That's what they all said. Marcella, it looks so real. Like a real person talking. (Marcella)

Our audiences were visibly moved. Many of them sat in tears long after the lights had gone back up. We had lots of hugging and crying going on after each performance. Parents held on to their sons and daughters and simply did not want to let go. For our audience -- men and women who know that keeping the peace sometimes involves sacrifices that many are unwilling to make -- our play resonated in a very deep, very personal place.

Our final journal entries described some of these reactions.

After the show this one man came up to me and just stared at me. I was talking to someone else, and I saw this man just staring at me. I thought maybe he was mad about something we'd said. Then he just came up and hugged me. And he told me that this was the best gift anyone had ever given him in his life. This big man stood there crying, thanking me. (Stuart)

* * *

After the play, one of my students' mothers came up and told me that one of her brothers had been killed in Vietnam. She said that she had always wanted to visit the Wall, but she was afraid of what it might do to her. But now I'm going, she said. I have something to give him. And I'm not afraid to go anymore. (My own journal)

The Aftermath

We talked about this experience long after the final performance. Like my first visit to the Wall, it was not the kind of thing you forget easily.

A few years later, we used the same process to research and perform a theater piece on the Holocaust. Living in Germany gave us access to such a rich supply of resources, human and physical, that it seemed a natural thing to do. That project was equally valuable and equally well received in our community.

The key to history is getting students to understand the human elements. Many schools do projects with oral histories, in which the students interview local citizens and create a "Foxfire"-type book, and that can be a valuable learning experience. But the real power of history lies in the presentation of the stories -- by humans, for humans. I encourage readers to find a local event or topic that you can help bring to life. I know that I'm looking for our next topic right now.

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Last updated 4 March 1999
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Copyright 1998 Phi Delta Kappa International