Jadwiga Makuch
Class 7
Public Primary School no. 1
Skarżysko-Kamienna
My memories [from] clandestine teaching
In 1939 the German army crossed our borders. It spelled harsh life for us. The Polish youth wasn’t allowed to learn, so that they could not get to know the world of culture. The German occupiers turned our schools into prisons, in which our fathers and brothers were being tortured. The schools, once sounding with the bustle of Polish youths studying in them, fell silent. Their walls stood sad and gray, looking at students, who spent hours studying there before the war. The gray walls of Polish schools were looking at us, as if they wanted to tell us what was going on in them with our fathers and brothers. The days, months, and even years were passing, and the German occupiers were still in control of our beloved motherland and would oppress our nation. We, the Polish youth, saw that we may not come back soon to the walls of our Polish school, to study there, we decided to study in secret. Soon a cluster of girls was running through the street and finally went up the stairs to the attic, where the young teacher, who was supposed to teach us, lived.. After a while, the prearranged bell rang and we entered the room, which looked like our school classroom. We would sit at the table and take out from under our coats sheets of paper with Polish history and geography. Our teacher would take out a textbook, hidden in her divan bed, and we would begin to study in secret, quietly and with great fear. In the small, warm room in the attic, studying secretly with anxiety and fear, we spent our time pleasantly and nicely. But one spring morning, when the world covered with [unreadable], heavy footsteps could be heard on the stairs, accompanied with mocking laughter. Who’s that? Fear pierced our frightened hearts. Oh, there are the cruel tormentors of Polish youth! What was there to do? [It was] too late. The bell rang, making a scary sound, and in a moment, the gendarmes went into our room. As we saw them, we became petrified and our teacher turned pale. Her eyes were looking at us pleadingly, as if they were begging for help. We encircled her, wanting to protect her. Our [missing] was futile, the gendarmes pushed us away from her. Hit by the enemy’s hand, she fell down to the floor. Our eyes turned to our beloved teacher, sorrow squeezed our young hearts, and tears flowed thickly down our faces. After a strict revision [the Germans] found sheets of paper [with notes from] history and geography. This picture was for us [missing] and full of bitterness. We could no longer see anything from the daze. [Missing] we could hear the enemies cursing. [Missing] shutting the door and heavy footsteps on the stairs. There was [missing] and crying. The gendarmes took away our half-unconscious teacher. The room in the attic, abandoned by its owner and us, a few young students, was standing sad and dark like the walls of our school, abandoned by the Polish youth.