While the Holocaust bears the distinction of being the most documented genocide, it also bears the weight of incomprehension. Oftentimes, this leads to pedagogical approaches that, though well-intentioned, distort or trivialize history. To better understand the factors that led to the persecution and murder of European Jews and millions of non-Jews, how do intentional encounters with seemingly ordinary artifacts—in the exhibition space of the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum and through its online resources—promote historical thinking for understanding the Holocaust's profundity?

First, artifacts facilitate translating the statistical millions into individuals. (1) This in turn demonstrates how chronology, geography, and circumstance led to persecution, murder, or survival for the mosaic of victims. When used as a sustained classroom teaching tool, the identity cards visitors receive when entering the Permanent Exhibition illustrate these factors. (Over 500 are now available on the Museum's website.)

For example, the identity card of Gad Beck reveals that as a Mischlinge—the child of a German Gentile mother and Jewish father—Beck was spared deportation to the killing centers in Eastern Europe. While many homosexuals lived in fear, and thousands were persecuted and murdered, being part of the homosexual community aided Beck’s survival. He turned to trusted non-Jewish homosexual friends to provide food and hiding places.

Beck's card also calls for inquiry into the 1935 Nuremberg Race Laws. Under these laws, anyone who had three or four Jewish grandparents was considered to be Jewish, regardless of whether that individual identified himself or herself as a Jew or belonged to the Jewish religious community. The card details his betrayal by a Jewish spy for the Gestapo near the end of the war in 1945. The year bears examination, for if his betrayal had occurred prior to 1945, this would have severely limited his chance to survive.

Second, artifact contemplation helps to contextualize the Holocaust beyond the brutality of mass murder. On the Museum's third floor, visitors encounter a mass assortment of victims' shoes from the Majdanek killing center near Lublin, Poland. The shoes signify the systematic plunder of victims' belongings in the dehumanization process of the Holocaust. Students visiting the shoe exhibit notice the deterioration of the shoes, but they may also notice the variety of styles and realize that for many victims, the shoes may be the only personal items that survive them. The shoes remind students of the personal stories behind the artifact.

Next to the shoes, the Tower of Faces displays photographs of shtetl life in Eishyshok, now in Lithuania. These photos, available on the Museum's online archive, portray a vibrant Jewish community that existed for 900 years. In 1941, an SS mobile killing squad entered the village and in two days murdered the Jewish population. The photos speak not to the killing, but to the culture and inhabitants of Eastern European shtetl life before the war while ensuring that the victims not remain faceless or forgotten.

Third, analyzing artifacts of Holocaust history helps avoid giving simple answers to complex questions. The voyage of the St. Louis, displayed on the Museum's fourth floor and in an online exhibition, frames the often-asked question, "Why didn't they just leave?" as a conduit to understanding how U.S. immigration quotas established in the 1920s prevented significant Jewish immigration in the 1930s and 1940s.

Examining the photo album of a St. Louis passenger increases students' understanding of the individuals who were impacted by the "push-pull-push back" factors of emigration and immigration. The album's photos depict passengers dancing and dining, roller-skating and sunning themselves on the ship's deck, blissfully unaware that they will soon be denied entry to Cuba and the U.S. Realizing that their lives were in peril if they remained in Europe, their fates were determined by factors beyond their control. The photo album prompts students to look at the social, diplomatic, political, and often anti-Semitic tone in the U.S. before and during the war. The St. Louis photo album provokes scrutiny of U.S. foreign policy then and now, and perhaps more importantly, the photo album conveys that history is not inevitable but is shaped by decision-making at all levels.

Analysis of the Museum's rich trove of artifacts can move the Holocaust from the abstract to the tangible. As the witness generation passes away, Holocaust education will rely increasingly on evidence from the era. Through contemplation of artifacts and other documents, studying the Holocaust will remain dynamic well into the 21st century.

Note: The views expressed are the author's alone and do not necessarily represent those of the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum or any other organization.

Coca-Cola ads used to say “Can’t beat the real thing.” At the Jewish Historical Society of Greater Washington, the real thing is our historic synagogue, and indeed, nothing can beat it for educating students about immigrant and neighborhood history in the nation’s capital city.

Originally built by Adas Israel Congregation in 1876, the 25-foot by 60-foot synagogue was a simple house of worship that served German and Eastern European Jewish immigrants in downtown Washington. President Ulysses S. Grant attended its dedication. Because of the building’s significance, the Society moved it three blocks in 1969 to save it from the wrecker’s ball. Today we run the Lillian & Albert Small Museum there.

Among our primary visitors are school groups, mainly from Jewish congregational schools and day schools, but private and public schools visit as well. The building is the focal point of all youth programs.

In Synagogue Story, K–2nd graders compare the restored 19th-century sanctuary with the 21st-century sanctuaries (or even theaters!) they know—and then make a model of the building to take home with them. In Building Detective, 3rd–7th graders look for clues about the building's function in its architecture. A separate balcony for women teaches them about gender roles in 19th-century American Judaism. A cobalt blue window and a photo of a crucifix in the sanctuary offer a glimpse into the synagogue's later life as a Greek Orthodox Church. Walking by the front façade, then seeing a photo of it with a pork barbecue sign, conveys the story of a continually changing urban neighborhood.

While we could just lecture about late 19th- and early 20th-century Jewish life in Washington, having students physically present in the space, sitting on wooden pews similar to those used over a century ago, seeing photos of how the same space once looked, walking on the old, creaking floors, and studying artifacts used in the space—nothing can top that experience, those sensations, that visceral connection to the past, and the power of the authentic. One teacher said her students will "remember the pews and the bench for President Grant and that he stayed for the entire three-hour service and wore a hat the entire time."

On walking tours, middle and high school students travel the same streets where Jewish, Italian, German, and Chinese immigrants lived, worked, and worshiped. They traverse blocks of modern office buildings and courthouses, then react with surprise to photos of brick row houses, the four surviving former synagogues, and other physical remnants of the past. Out-of-town students connect with Washington as a city, beyond the monuments and museums on the National Mall.

This is the educational theory of constructivism at work. Using material culture—whether a building, a historic artifact, or even a photograph—engages the senses and thus enhances learning. As we've seen by watching students beholding the synagogue's original ark and simple woodwork, they gain an emotional connection to the history. Another teacher told us that his students, spurred by the experience, asked "great follow-up questions" on the ride home.

So for teachers, we strongly recommend bringing students to historic sites—particularly those off the beaten path—and taking them on walking tours. We know that's not always possible, with school budgets being what they are. Alternatively, many teachers make effective use of "treasure boxes" sent out by museums. These include replica artifacts and photos, which still accomplish the most important goal: helping students connect to the past in a tangible way.