"Tony Steinberg: Brave Seventh-Grade Viking Warrior," by TAYLOR MALI

- Have you ever seen a Viking ship

made out of popsicle
sticks and balsa wood?

Coils of brown thread for the ropes,

oars made out of, what
are those, chopsticks,

and an authentic red and
yellow striped Viking sail

made from a ripped piece
of a baby's footie pajamas?

I have.

He died with his sword in his hand

and so went straight to heaven.

The Vikings often buried their
bravest warriors in ships.

Or set them adrift and on fire,
a floating island of flame,

the soul of the brave warrior
rising slowly with the smoke.

In order to understand life
in Scandinavia during the time

of the Middle Ages, you have
to understand the Viking ship.

So here's what I want the class to do:

I want you all to build me
one miniature Viking ship.

You can use whatever materials you want,

you've got six weeks to
complete this assignment,

but you have to work
together like warriors.

These are the projects that I am

known for as a history teacher.

Like the Greek Shield Project.

Or the Marshmallow Catapult Project.

Or the Medieval Castle of Chocolate Cake,

actually, that one was a disaster.

But there was the
Egyptian Pyramid Project.

Have you ever seen a family of four

gathered around a card table after dinner,

each member of the family
holding onto one triangular side

of a miniature cardboard Egyptian pyramid

until the glue finally dried?

I haven't either, but
Mrs. Steinberg said that

even with the little
brother on one side saying,

this is a stupid pyramid, Tony.

If I get Mr. Mali next
year, my pyramid's gonna be

so much better designed
than this piece of ...

And the Tony on the other side going,

shut up, shut up, you stupid idiot!

If you let go before the glue dries

I will disembowel you with
your Sony PlayStation!

It was the best family time that they

had spent together since Hanukkah.

He died with his sword in his hand

and so went straight to heaven.

Mr. Mali, if that's true, if a Viking died

with his sword in his hand,
he went straight to Valhalla,

then if you were, like, an old Viking

and you were gonna die of old age,

could you keep your
sword right by your bed

so if you ever felt, like, uh
oh, I might die of old age,

you could reach out and grab it

and still go to heaven, could you do that?

If I were a Viking God, I don't
think I would fall for that.

But if I were an old Viking
about to die of old age,

that's exactly what I
would do, you're a genius.

He died with his sword in his hand

and so went straight to heaven.

Tony Steinberg had been missing
from school for two months

before we finally found
out what was wrong.

And then the 12 other boys in the class

whispered the name of the disease

as if you could catch it
from saying it too loud.

We'd been warned.

The head of the middle
school had come to class

and said Tony is gonna try
to come to school on Friday

for a visit, but he's had a rough time.

The medication he's taking

has made all of his hair fall out.

So nobody stare, nobody
point, nobody laugh.

I always said that I liked teaching

in a private school 'cause
I could talk about God

in the classroom and
not be breaking the law.

And I like talking about
God in the classroom.

I do it a lot.

Yes, in history class, that's easy.

Even the Egyptian Pyramid Project

is essentially a spiritual undertaking.

But how can you teach math
and not believe in a God?

A God of perfect geometric space

and time surrounded by arch angels

and right angles of varying degrees.

Such a God would not give
cancer to seventh grade boy;

would not make all of his hair
fall out from chemotherapy.

Totally bald in a jacket and tie

and I don't just mean Tony Steinberg,

not one single kid in my
class had hair that day;

the other 12 had all shaved
their heads in solidarity.

Have you ever seen 13
bald-headed seventh graders

in jackets and ties, all of
them staring at each other,

all of them pointing,
all of them laughing?

I have.

And it's a beautiful sight.

Almost as striking as
12 seventh grade boys

one month later standing in a
circle outside the synagogue

after the memorial service,
heads bowed, holding hands,

surrounding the smoldering remains

of the class's miniature Viking ship,

which they have set on fire, the soul

of the brave warrior rising
slowly with the smoke.

Thank you, thanks a lot.