Last night I dug through a box of files in my apartment looking for the letter Professor Susanne Zantop sent me last May. She invited me to stop by the German Department during my Fifth Year Reunion in June. I was unable to attend the reunion because I was backpacking around China, but had every intention of writing back to fill her in on my life. Then I switched jobs and moved the box with me, the letter remaining in its file, unanswered. I even started a letter once but life's distractions intervened. I wanted to tell her so many things.
My first winter at Dartmouth was quite shocking for the California kid I was. The first week of winter term, I dropped a spoon in the deep fryer while working at Ala Carte, splattering myself with boiling grease. For six weeks I was unable to use my right hand, completely wrapped in gauze. I was frustrated, and falling behind in my classes.
Professor Zantop, however, would have none of that, at least not for her course. There was no reason I could not read the small yellow books German majors read and no excuses for not writing my papers.
I complained I could neither write nor type with my left hand. I whined I had no one to type for me. The next day Professor Zantop asked the class for a volunteer to type my papers for me. And remained silent until someone did. Needless to say, a volunteer rose from the small class quickly, and just as quickly I miraculously learned to type with my left hand. She was kind and compassionate, but no push over.
I remember having dinner in her home that winter. One of my very few home cooked meals that year. We ate spaetzle. That was nine years ago and I still remember the meal and the conversation.
My senior year, Professor Zantop was my independent study adviser for a project on women's rights and law in Germany. I spent many an hour in her office, in awe of all the books lining her shelves. I remember sitting in Collis discussing my project and our lives over a cup of coffee or tea. We would compare the laws and norms of women's issues in both the United States and Germany. It was intellectual, and it was personal.
I was a German major and lived in the German housing my last two years at Dartmouth.
I remember with great fondness having a 10A German literature class with bagels and coffee in the Kade Center. A handful of students sipping coffee, discussing Lessing or Goethe, at the same table as the professor. My heart goes out to the current students and the Department's faculty and staff.
I am troubled and saddened by this violent end to such peaceful, compassionate and giving lives. The only comfort I take is learning what full lives Half and Susanne Zantop led and that so many memories remain. I am not waiting to write. Vielen Dank for alles, Professor Zantop. Ich vermisse Sie.
