gave Albert Camus something more valuable than books.
He gave him permission to believe that poverty didn't define potential. That a cleaning woman's son could think, could write, could matter. That intelligence wasn't a privilege reserved for the wealthy but existed everywhere—even in silent boys in crowded classrooms in the poorest districts of colonial Algeria
Germain died in 1965, five years after Camus. By then, he'd lived long enough to see his student become immortal.
His home had no books. His mother couldn't read. His future was supposed to be a factory floor. Then one teacher noticed him—and twenty years later, he won the Nobel Prize.
Without you, without the affectionate hand you extended to the small poor child that I was, without your teaching and example, none of all this would have happened. I don’t make too much of this sort of honor. But at least it gives me the opportunity to tell you what you have been and still are for me, and to assure you that your efforts, your work, and the generous heart you put into it still live in one of your little schoolboys who, despite the years, has never stopped being your grateful pupil. I embrace you with all my heart.
Albert Camus
louis
louis germain
louis the lighthouse to
poor and vulnerable children
society's wretched cast offs
merci
louis
who's heard of you louis?
not many i am sure
always the way
few accolades for the good
a wonderful human being
a beacon of hope
the pride and joy of france
VIVE LOUIS !
always the way
few accolades for the good
a wonderful human being
a beacon of hope
the pride and joy of france
VIVE LOUIS !
.
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