Last week I spoke about student engagement and the critical importance of teacher enthusiasm, expertise, and empathy in the learning and teaching process. I also suggested that literature possessed the power to engage students, mobilise their abilities for deep learning, sustain their interest, and challenge their thinking. These ideas were put to the test this afternoon when I was given a Year 11 English class to cover for an absent colleague. It was the last lesson of the day, and it was evident as the students entered the classroom that they were tired – as was I. Calling upon my own ‘enthusiasm, expertise, and empathy’, I sought to engage these young people in fifty minutes of purposeful and focused work.

The class teacher had left the instructions that the students were to compose a short autobiographical piece entitled ‘Who Do I Think I Am?’ This immediately reminded me of a poem I had shared recently with my Year 12 class. Written in 1945 by the German theologian, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, ‘Who Am I?’ explores the notion of identity and the inner conflict that is part of the human condition. The thirty-nine-year-old Lutheran pastor composed the poem while incarcerated in a German prison camp during the Second World War. Weeks later, he would be executed for his opposition to Adolf Hitler and the Nazi regime.

The students today were interested in reading Bonhoeffer’s poem and hearing his life story – a story of the victory of light, love, and sacrifice over darkness and evil. One of my favourite books is Bonhoeffer’s The Cost of Discipleship. After reading this for the first time, some years ago now, I guided a Year 12 Mount Carmel student as he composed an engaging and quite remarkable short story on Bonhoeffer as part of his HSC English Extension 2 course. I remember finishing my reading of Paolo Lingat’s final product feeling incredibly moved and somewhat altered by the experience. Bonhoeffer’s impact on this young man had resulted in the creation of an exceptional composition. Bonhoeffer’s impact today on these young people, continued to engage their intellect and their emotions, and hopefully assisted in their own reflections and subsequent written expression.

This afternoon’s encounter emphasised for me once again, as it had with Paolo all those years ago, the power of story to stimulate our minds and our hearts. Stories – both real and fictitious – will continue to survive in literature because homes, classrooms and workplaces are filled with their descendants.