Every Little Bit

Two years ago, straight from Vassar, Anne Waterman went to Poland to become a teacher at the University of Warsaw (TIME, Aug. u, 1947). Last week she was back in the U.S., feeling "just distressed" by her experience.

In teaching English, she had tried to tell her students about life in the democracies. But her Communist pupils just laughed. "They told me I probably came from a well-to-do family and knew nothing of people's problems." They wouldn't believe her description of London's Hyde Park: "They just couldn't imagine a place where one man talked of vegetarianism, while another argued the Communist line, and a policeman stood placidly by."

At first, Anne was well-treated. Professors, not yet forced to join the party, regarded themselves above politics. She even had proposals of marriage from young Poles anxious to become U.S. citizens. ("They didn't seem to realize," says Anne, "that if I married them, they wouldn't become Americans.")

Gradually, Anne's reputation as an anti-Communist began to spread. Many of her letters were opened. Her dates refused to take her to the central places in Warsaw where they might be seen with her. And one young man, whom she had met at a university dance, "was obviously a member of the secret police assigned to spy on me. The Poles laughed at us for trying to come to terms with the Russians. They're cynical, because they're caught."

Can U.S. teachers do any good there? Yes, says Anne; she hadn't really enjoyed her stay, "but you can see the good you're doing. So many Poles are wavering. Every little bit helps."

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