I do not remember exactly when my Medem Shul opened that autumn, but I do recall that when we came back to school, many of the children and most of the teachers were missing. After the war, I heard that Lerer (Teacher) Lozowski — our school principal and teacher of music and mathematics had run away to the Soviet Union, where he was arrested, “found guilty” of “conspiring” against their state, and lived through the war in one of their prisons. (Prior to the war, Lerer Lozowski had written a pamphlet criticizing the communist system in Russia). Lerer Shloyme Melman (teacher of history and literature) and his wife Lererin (Female Teacher) Yitke Lazar (teacher of Yiddish and Yiddish Literature), had fled to Warsaw with their son Yos, and became active there in the underground movement (the Joint Distribution Committee). After the ghetto uprising in the Capital of Poland, the three of them were hidden in a Bunker. Near the end of the war, the Pole who had been hiding them had a fight with his paramour and, following their fight, she denounced him to the German authorities that he was hiding Jews. As a result, the Pole, along with everyone who had been hidden in the bunker, was forced outside the building and shot on the spot.
Another teacher, Leyb Fridman, who also fled to Warsaw, had similarly become active in the underground movement. He shared the plight of the children and teachers of the Medem Sanatorium (that is, liquidation of that facility, deportation and annihilation). Lererin G. Muster-Shuster had fled to Krakow and was active in the underground movement over there. I assume that the other teachers — Lonia Joskowicz, Moyshe Elentuch, E. Chardak, I.B. Grundman, Berta Winograd and Eva Kozlowska — as well as the many school children who had not returned to school, had either fled to other towns and villages in the Nazi occupied territories, across the border to the Soviet Union, or died on the roads under the hail of bombs.
Only two of our pre-war teachers were left in Lodz and continued teaching at our school — Lererin Khane Kirshnboym and Lererin Halina Bornstein. Teacher Kirshnboym (teacher of mathematics and Geography) became the new headmaster. Heniek Morgentaler and Geniek Boczkowski, two pre-war alumni from our school, joined the teaching staff. Geniek became the teacher of singing and geography, and Heniek — of Yiddish, Yiddish literature and the German language. The two teachers who remained from the pre-war period covered all other subjects: math, history, health, home economics, etc.
For a short time, our school classes resumed in the old school premises, but soon we were forced to move from the city to new quarters that had previously, prior to the war, been occupied by a school for the deaf and mute. The new quarters were within the area designated as the Jewish ghetto.
I remember very little from the time when we were still in the old quarters. What stands out in my mind is the fact that we used different routes to and from school, and that we thought that we had found a marvelous solution to some of our problems of being degraded by the Nazis. In order to avoid bowing and stepping off the sidewalk to pay “respect” to the “superior” German nationals, we decided to walk on the pavement, alongside the horses, trolleys and autos. We felt that we were beating the inhumane system we had become subjects of and were very proud of it.
I also remember that on the day I returned to school after my father’s funeral, the children and teachers were unusually kind to me. I spent a lot of time at the wide school window, imagining that I could see my father up in heaven. I believed that I could communicate with him in silence. I just could not accept the reality that I would never see or hear him again, and the imagined communication with my father helped me somehow to cope with my bad fortune.
By Passover, 1940, the Litzmannstadt (Lodz) Ghetto was surrounded by barbed wire and soon thereafter the gates were permanently sealed (for most of us forever). Inside the cage, we became subjects to the whims of a Jewish madman willing in his zeal to rule over others to cooperate with our enemies. On the outside we were surrounded by a brutal military giant who claimed racial and national superiority, derived pleasure in torturing us and had the ultimate intent to destroy us completely. Our pride and interest in learning then dissipated. What interest could we have — during that period of confinement to the small, congested area, confrontation with hunger, disease and death — in learning the geography of the Delta of the Nile, or the history of military conquests by kings thousands of years earlier? We were certain of the ultimate defeat of the ferocious savages occupying the land and would have been happy to carry arms against them, but the unique circumstances of the Lodz ghetto did not allow us that prospect. So we found consolation in maintaining hope, and in having the strength and courage to endure. To talk about insignificant distant geographical locations or historical events seemed to us irrelevant. Yet, we were interested in learning and in continuing our schooling – both for social and educational reasons.
To get to our new school premises, located in the eastern part of the ghetto, most of us had to get across dangerous intersections on Zgierska or Limanowskiego Streets. These roads belonged to the non-Jews. Tramways, motorcycles, and other means of transportation carried Poles and Germans through this ghetto area, although the Jews occupied the housing in these streets. We had to walk across either by passing one of the high wooden bridges or through the gates that were at times opened for us to speedily get through. In either case, it was a risky endeavor. In addition to the barbed wire on both sides of these streets, there were German guards constantly watching — us as well as the Poles — to make certain that nobody trespasses or smuggles in any goods. The guards often found it amusing to utilize their power with their rifles in order to harass and intimidate us, and often — to kill us.
Since our classrooms were much smaller in our ghetto school, and because of the shortage in teachers, our classes had to be combined. We also did not have any teaching materials and teaching aids or access to the science laboratories, zoos and parks in order to further our knowledge. Thus the level of education suffered greatly. The curriculum was reduced to a bare minimum.
The biggest advantages of going to school were: It was warm there, whereas in our homes we were freezing; We were fed there, whereas at home our bellies were convulsing from hunger; We could escape there, into a world of play, games, fantasy and at the same time be stimulated to acquire some new information, whereas at home one could not escape the reality of the war. Being together during the school hours -while learning, playing and laughing — enabled us to temporarily forget the miseries of daily life in the ghetto. We considered that a big blessing.
Part of our curriculum became gardening which replaced the sciences. It helped us to both learn about agriculture as well as to gain additional food. We embraced the subject of gardening with open arms. Most of us, being city children, had never even seen an actual vegetable garden, and we thought that it was a rather interesting experience to grow these vegetables ourselves. We performed our gardening work with great joy, while singing, laughing and joking.
During the summer of 1940, I became very attached to two school mates — Sorele Olsztajn (a daughter of a pre-war factory owner) and Feygele Falc (who was a friend of mine since kindergarten, but because we had previously resided in different parts of the city, we were unable to maintain a close friendship after school hours). The three of us shared our most intimate thoughts, feelings and secrets, and studied together for the entrance exam to the newly formed ghetto gimnazye (high school) that we were hoping to be accepted into after the summer break.
To everybody’s surprise, not one of the three of us passed the entrance exam with high enough marks, so our aspirations to enter high school were shattered. According to rumors, only students with remarkably high grades and very “big protektzye” (connections) had a chance to enter the ghetto high school – which had room for only a few. Our school principal, teacher Kirsznbojm allowed the three of us, and a few other students, to remain in school for another year. Since there was no longer a seventh grade, we had to repeat sixth grade. Actually, I preferred the children in this class, because we were closer in age. In our previous class I had been — one, two and even three years younger than most of the children. That was because I had been one of three children who had been skipped from kindergarten to second grade, and because some children failed to be promoted to the higher grades and had to repeat the class several times. I never felt comfortable with our age differences.
Although we had divided into several cliques, the new class as a whole was generally very cooperative. Both the children and teachers were concerned for one another. Some children, who had previously attended the now closed Borochov shul in Lodz, became students in our school. Of these, two girls in particular — Rozka Rapaport and Bela Schwajcer — became our new close friends.
I cannot forget one incident, when Lererin Kirsznbojm stopped me in the corridor and asked me: “Feygele, do you still have to be begged and coaxed to eat something?”
“No, Lererir’ Kirsznbojm.” I answered embarrassed that she too knew what a poor eater I had once been. “I wish I had enough food, any food to fill my stomach!”
One event of student solidarity remains engraved in my memory. Our young teacher Geniek Boczkowski punished Kisek Grundman with suspension from school for a lengthy period of time — for some “delinquent behavior.” Although we agreed that Kisek had behaved inappropriately, we believed that the punitive measure was excessive. We were not concerned about Kisek’s loss of schooling; we were rather agitated about our friend being deprived of the essential food that we received in school. We were convinced that the punishment was, under the circumstances, too severe. So, the whole class walked out in protest and stayed out for the following two days in the schoolyard — also being deprived of our food allocation — until Kisek was allowed to return to school.
Soon, three new teachers appeared on the scene. They were appointed to their positions by the Ghetto Board of Education. One was an assimilated Jew, who spoke to us in the Polish language only. He came in as the new headmaster but we thought of him as a Commissar. Another teacher, whom we considered as a very comical and pitiful provincial caricature, taught us Hebrew. He had come from a provincial southern town, spoke an ungrammatical Yiddish in a strange dialect, mixing in many foreign words, and his mannerism invited a lot of ridicule. The third new teacher was a woman who taught us Bible Studies — prayers, religious hymns and about the greatness and benevolence of “a just God, who was leading the Jews.” Of the three teachers, we eventually accepted the new headmaster, who had a great sense of humor and knew how to influence children. Because we liked him, we felt like traitors toward our own long time teachers. The other two new teachers we considered pathetic beings. They had absolutely no sense of humor and no influence on us at all.
(to be continued…)
©2001 Fela Infeld Glaser and Marty Capsuto
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Child In Captivity 