Professor Mazur also had a habit of entrusting the role of teacher to one of the better students, giving him authorization to conduct lessons, quiz students and enter grades in the register. He would then leave the classroom for a walk, and upon returning he never questioned the competence of his substitutes.
Therefore, when I too was occasionally honored with the task of conducting a lesson, I never abused His trust, entering fair grades in the register... One colleague or another would pester me to take advantage of the opportunity and improve his grades in “maths.” Lessons conducted in this way were good lessons in a young person’s sense of responsibility.
In the seventh grade, our guardian was Mr A. Keller, who tried to improve the discipline of the unruly youngsters. One of the methods intended to improve discipline was “the goat,” meaning the punishment of keeping students after lessons. It was a burdensome punishment because it was usually unexpected, so all the matches and games planned for the afternoon “went out the window,” not to mention the lack of food. But what can’t the boys’ imagination and organizational skills achieve? We organized “cymbergaj” tournaments and boxing matches, while I served as the supplier. My father—the baker—made delicious butter rolls in fanciful shapes, which I often distributed around the class and thanks to which I acquired the nickname “butter roll.” So whenever such a “goat” occurred, I was sent home for rolls, and since the classroom was locked, the only option was to climb out through the window and slide down the drainpipe from the first floor! After 15 minutes, I returned the same way with a bag full of delicacies, and our hunger was satisfied. Once, years later, when I looked at that drainpipe, I was astonished myself that I had not been afraid at the time. The later years, 1949–51, were a period of maturation, a time when social background was important, and I had enormous problems with mine. The best background then was worker-peasant, and I did not qualify. My father ran a small shop in the Kielce region, and here in Bolesławiec he ran a bakery, so he was classified as an “exploiter”—and what was I supposed to do? After consulting my mother, I heard the decision: “Write that you have a peasant background and don’t think about it anymore!” How happy I felt that no one in my family lived abroad, which would have disqualified me as a citizen of the Polish People’s Republic. I remember there were such “culprits” in the class, and I deeply sympathized with them. I compensated for my complexes about my background with bags full of butter rolls, which I shared with my classmates, exchanged for lead soldiers, or used to buy the favor of the class’s prominent figures.
To illustrate the atmosphere of that era more vividly, I will mention here an anecdotal situation from a biology lesson, when the teacher was discussing the origins of humankind. At the outset, he informed the class that he was a believing Catholic and had his own view on the matter, but that he had to teach us that humans descended from apes—as instructed by the authorities. One of the older students provoked general amusement when, after the lesson, he declared: “Humans may come from apes, but I certainly don’t!”
Young people today may be surprised by the mention of an older classmate, but it must be remembered that these were the postwar years, and at that time many younger people supplemented their education without regard to the age of their classmates.
As a result, young people had differing life experiences, intellectual levels, and physical and psychological maturity. Thus, for example, next to a 12-year-old in a class there might be a 16- or even 17-year-old. They were the “class elite”; they set the style and dictated the class rules. Raul G. and Edek T. were such “aces.” If they decided that one particular classmate would play on the football team, there was no appeal; the others could only cheer. Another authority figure for me was Tadek R., who boxed and achieved success as a junior. Once he brought me a copy of Słowo Polskie, where the sports column said: “Young boxer Teodor R. has achieved another success and is shaping up to be a good competitor!” Oh, how I envied him that fame! I became enthusiastic about boxing, and my friend would bring boxing gloves to my home or to school, where we enthusiastically fought murderous bouts; only my mother’s intervention ended my “boxing career.”
To be continued.