Love Made Visible: One Immigrant's Journey

By Anita Maria Albers

Anita Maria Albers has always been a woman whose pure spiritual ideals eclipsed the cynical world around her.
As a child, she lived through the harsh reality of World War II, growing up in the war-torn city of Bochum in Germany. She came out of that inferno to see a destroyed country.
While there was total chaos and little food, she continued to believe in a loving God. She also vowed to do something good for mankind as an antidote against all that was evil.
With the spirit of an explorer, she eventually made it to the United States and became a U S citizen. Always interested in other countries, she traveled extensively and learned about the similarities and differences among cultures.
When she saw closed doors, she dared to open them, which led to her opening a beautiful private Montessori School with a peace curriculum for children ages two to twelve.
Her life story can be seen as an inspiration for us all: from the ashes of loss and turmoil, love, peace, and unity can grow.
The author will donate all of the book’s proceeds to The Albrook School, a non-profit organization.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Apr 9, 2023
• ISBN: 9781665735858

Anita Maria Albers

Anita Maria Albers left Germany after World War II and settled in the United States in 1959. She created her own business that allowed her to support herself and take extensive trips around the globe. In 1979, Anita co-founded The Albrook Montessori School. She has educated thousands of children with a curriculum of peace and love. When not in school, she’s in her garden on the Albrook campus, enjoying her flowers and the students that visit her.

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Copyright © 2023 Anita Maria Albers.

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and in some cases, names of people and places have been altered to protect their privacy.

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ISBN: 978-1-6657-3587-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6657-3586-5 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-6657-3585-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022923936

Archway Publishing rev. date:  04/07/2023

Contents

Three Milestones

Angels along the Way

The Early Years

Serious Accusations

Perfect Targets

Evacuation to Pomerania

The Aftermath

A Commitment

Making a Difference

Shedding the Old Me

In Search of a Sponsor

Arriving in USA

My First Job in the United States

The New Lifestyle

A Daring Adventure

International Montessori Diploma

New Horizons

A Dream Come True

Love Stories

A is for Albrook

The Move to Cedar Hill

Albrook Has a Home

Celebrations and Accomplishments

A Present for My Seventieth Birthday

Peace is the Word

Love is the Most Potent

The House of Retirement

Acknowledgments

To Mutti, the love light from which I shine on.

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Three Milestones

T he celebration was an evening event. I had some time for a stroll around the school grounds before the guests arrived. Gazing upon the row of pine trees that paralleled the backdrop of the white fence behind my house has always been uplifting to me. I absolutely love the sight, especially in the winter, when the trees are laden with snow. The trees’ symbolism of eternal life seemed apt that evening as we were celebrating the thirty-five-year journey of a school that I wish will continue into eternity.

In that row of pine trees grew a pin oak that nobody planted by design but was the work of a bird with divine intervention. I love oak trees and what they signify— strength and courage. As I passed the school’s peace garden, one of my most cherished spots, I noticed the cheerful daffodils and red tulips, a gift of nature during that time of year. I looked up to the evening spring sky, painted with golden colors. Of course, there was the American flag hoisted up high, fluttering in the gentle breeze. I could not help but pause for a moment and be present as a wave of deep appreciation came over me. I kept thinking of all the opportunities this country had given me, and I thought of the other teachers in our school who, like me, had left their homelands to make a better life in the United States. I thought of the day in the summer of 1973, when I became a United States citizen.

This special celebration of April 17, 2014, marked the day when my staff, friends, and family came together to commemorate thirty-five years of The Albrook School’s existence, as well as celebrating my retirement and my eighty-fifth birthday. It was a practical move to celebrate all three events in one day as a symbol of frugality that had become a part of Albrook’s DNA.

When I walked into Albers Hall, I was delighted to see so many dear guests. There were parents of current and former students, my family from Blairstown, New Jersey, and of course, all my beloved teachers. Joyfully, I greeted some former students, who, by now, towered over me even in my high-heeled shoes, but that did not make a difference at all to me. It made me smile to see these young adults so happy to receive a hug from me, as in their earlier preschool years. My knees buckled a bit when I saw my longtime friend Joan and her husband walk in, coming all the way from Colorado for my special day.

Albers Hall looked as festive as ever. Chairs and tables were set up; flowers, white tablecloths and real china gave the hall beauty with a touch of elegance. One glance at the table laden with different food specialties told me these dishes were created in the teachers’ kitchens. I had tried them before on other occasions. I also noticed the big platter with delicacies from the German butcher. From the spread of appetizers and fancy dishes to delicious desserts, this table was a feast to the eyes as well as for the palate.

At seven thirty that evening, Jean Hicks, codirector of The Albrook School, welcomed everyone and lovingly acknowledged my contributions over the years. Two Albrook parents, Mrs. S, and Mrs. M, in their gorgeous saris, presented three beautiful books of memories to me. I could tell with one look that these books were a labor of love, a monumental task, containing pictures and notes from students, parents, and teachers. I was deeply touched by how much love and affection went into these books. The pretty birdbath, a gift from our board members, would be very much appreciated by the many visiting birds and admired by every visitor to the garden.

A projector and a screen were set up to view the film Ms. Albers, which shared some pictures of my youth and the most treasured moments I had shared with teachers and students. A couple of people took their turn at the front of the stage to share their favorite—mostly humorous—memories of me.

When it was time for me to say my thanks to all, I wondered if I would be able to express my deepest gratitude at that moment. Overwhelmed by the outpouring of so much love and all these accolades, I felt happy and humble at the same time. Sure, I had carried the flag with conviction, enthusiasm, and love, but without this army of dedicated teachers, staff, and board members, Albrook would not be here. Teamwork had made this school a shining beacon of excellence in the Montessori world. Everybody at the school had a good reason to look back on all its accomplishments with pride. In 2004, Albrook received the accreditation from the American Montessori Society and the Middle States Commission on Elementary Schools and was reaccredited in 2014.

With immense appreciation, I thought of all the parents who entered through the doors of Albrook, entrusting their children in the hands of our caring and confident teachers. My heart was nearly exploding with gratitude toward everyone, and deep down, I felt I had lived my life as it was meant to be. Now, like a mother, I was ready to let go of my work and the school I had envisioned, created, and nourished over a span of thirty-five years.

After the party, I kept wondering, How did we all get here, and how did I become the director of a Montessori school, when it was not even my intention to teach in America?

It certainly is a long and colorful story.

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Angels along the Way

W hen I was a young child, I was fascinated by angels. I believed a guardian angel, with enormous wings and dressed in a long white flowing gown, was watching over me.

This belief was strengthened by a story that Mutti, as I always called my mother, often told of my own personal miracle. I was three years old and wandered off while my mother nursed my baby brother Gerhard, and my father was on an errand. Mutti heard a commotion outside, and a glance out the window nearly made her heart stand still. There was a car stopped in the road. A few women had gathered around a policeman who held a little girl in his arms. Mutti listened in disbelief as the officer explained that I had been run over by the car. My tiny body had fallen between the wheels in such a way that I was unharmed.

Eventually, I learned that angels do not exist in the way I once had imagined— roaming the world, saving the lives of adventurous children. Instead, I found that the true angels were everyday people, those who encourage and support us, who give us hope and strength, who bring meaning, inspiration, and joy to our lives. These are angels without wings. I have met many, but the most beautiful angel of all was Mutti.

The Early Years

I was born in Germany in the city of Bochum. It was 1929, the year of the Great Depression. My parents had settled down at the edge of the city in a place surrounded by swaths of open farmland. Before they were married, my father was a merchant marine, but finding work was difficult. My mother was a housewife whose skilled hands and mathematical mind could transform nothing into something, as if by magic.

The year before my brother Heinz was born, our mother, Gerhard, and I went to East Prussia to meet our grandparents and relatives on our mother’s side. I was fascinated by the many storks nesting high on towers and treetops. I called on them to bring me a baby brother. When Heinz, my younger brother, was then born the next spring, I believed that I was fully responsible for bringing this beautiful baby with blue eyes and blond hair into our lives, since I had, after all, been chatting to those storks. Heinz was only a couple of weeks old when I took him in the baby carriage to town without telling my mother. That gave her a big fright, which I could not understand at the time, since I felt very grown-up, although I was only seven years old. My adoration for my little brother knew no bounds. I took him with me wherever I went, watching over him and applauding his accomplishments like a mother and later as a teacher. I wanted him to love reading the way I did, but Heinz was a nature kid, roaming the fields and bringing all kind of small critters into the house. He was a happy, carefree child with an outgoing personality. I relished my role as big sister, and this feeling endured into adulthood.

As the eldest child in my family, I had the privilege of staying up a little longer to help Mutti with sewing or knitting. This did not sit well with my brother Gerhard. He argued that he could learn how to knit just so he could stay up late too. Most children would start with a shawl, but he was determined to knit a sock. With great enthusiasm and Mutti’s guidance, he certainly did finish the difficult project just to prove his point; no need to knit the second sock. Nevertheless, we should have framed it as a piece of art or as a sign of great determination. Gerhard and I teased each other whenever possible when we were young, but in our teenage years, we became great friends, spending lots of good times together. The two of us stayed up late at night and discussed all kinds of topics, dreaming of a united Europe and sharing books we read, especially those that dealt with America. I always admired his drive and determination to succeed at whatever goals he set up for himself.

Our mother had an appreciation for each of us as individuals. She loved us as we were, not ever comparing us to one another. My brothers and I attribute part of our successes later in life to our mother’s ability to instill in us a strong sense of self-worth. All three of us simply