First Day in the Volksschule
The Volksschule at Maria Anzbach.
Imagine this, you’re a kid in the mid 80s thrust suddenly into a tiny village in the Austrian countryside with a population of not more than two thousand people, where hardly anything new ever happens -- and you’re the ONLY Asian. The minute you step out of the house, you KNOW people are going to stare. They won’t necessarily talk behind your back, but they will do a double take on you. I guess that’s just how it is everywhere else in the world, especially in a small town whenever someone new arrives. There’s a sense of curiosity in the air, and you can’t blame them for wanting to take a closer look -- I know I would.
The thing about Austrians is this – they do look at you, or at least they did me, but never for a moment did I ever feel offended in any way. I would get polite smiles on the streets greeting onlookers with a “Grüß Gott.” But they were adults -- I wasn’t sure if the kids were going to be as forgiving. So you can just imagine my trepidation when I found out that I was going to the lokal village school. I attended the International School in Vienna for a couple of months, but my mom thought it would be best for me to continue my studies in Maria Anzbach instead to properly inculcate myself to the Austrian way of life.
It was final – I was going to school in the Volksschule. The Volksschule is the equivalent of Elementary School in Austria wherein children learn primary education from 6 – 10 years of age. Its literal translation is “People’s School” where every child in Austria is mandated to attend. There was a sense of alarm during my first day of school in the Volksschule – not only was I the only Asian, but I also hadn’t even mastered the language yet -- German was the only medium of instruction, I had to learn the language fast to keep up with the lessons. My mom believed that going to school in the Volksschule would speed up the way I’d learn the language -- it was my baptism of fire.
This was our class picture taken during my second year at the Volksschule. That's me, standing on the far left side looking (very) awkward. Hahaha!
I knew my first day of school in the Volksschule was going to be the worst day of my life! I remember getting down from the car, walking to the pathway that leads up to the entrance of the school shaking all over. I distinctly remember keeping my eyes on the ground, painfully aware of the inquisitive children with their heads sticking out of all the windows of the building. True enough; there was a sea of blue, hazel, green and grey eyes staring back at my chinky-eyed ones when I tried to look up. I looked down almost immediately as the teacher met me at the entrance. She smiled and walked with me to the classroom. I began a habit of looking at my wristwatch every 10 seconds or so, wishing the day would end quickly -- it was a good alternative from staring at the floor while walking. The whole experience felt as if the circus had just arrived in town, purposely drawing in crowds of snoopy little boys and girls., trying to take a closer look at the freak that was me -- its main attraction. I saw bystanders whisper and stare all around me as we moved on.
The building of the Volksschule had classrooms on the ground and second floors depending on the year level. It was a two-story building that housed a massive central staircase with a landing that led to the second floor. As we reached it, I could see that through the intricate wrought iron railings there was were rows of children lining up outside their respective classrooms, inching their necks up to look at the Filipino stranger who was to become their new schoolmate. Tall wooden doors were opened, and I entered the classroom and took my seat. It was then that I got a real good look at the space. The room had character, and it looked old but not stuffy. High ceilings gave way to wooden panels on the wall with big bright windows on the room’s left side flooding the space with sufficient daylight for the children. Then my eyes lowered on to my classmates. I scanned the room quickly and saw that they were ALL looking at me. My teacher, Frau (Mrs.) Elizabeth Weißmann then introduced me to the class, or at least that’s what I thought she was saying. Luckily, the boy that was assigned to sit beside me knew how to speak English. His name was Walter and was born in the US. She then proceeded to teach the lesson at hand. I fondled with my notebook and tried desperately to understand what she was teaching.
Finally, its time for recess and I could take a break. Then it dawned on me, and I’d be alone, Walter wouldn’t want to stay with me, he won’t be obliged to talk to me anymore and would surely want to be with his other buddies instead. I wasn’t sure if the other classes might also have their breaks at the same time and I could already see myself all alone in the corner eating my snacks ... and being stared at again. I literally had to drag my feet and follow the rest of the class downstairs to the courtyard behind the school building. Outside, it was refreshing, full of fresh air and sunlight. There were already groups of kids who were playing with each other, doing their usual thing during recess. I was predisposed to being alone ... or so I thought.
We were all smiles during my 10th birthday with classmates.
Little by little, some kids would get the courage to go up to me, trying to speak to me. I don’t recall exactly who came and talked to me first, but it was definitely one the girls. We communicated via sign language. They were introducing themselves, offering their food to me, wanting to share theirs and trying to start a conversation. I politely declined the food, but I was pleasantly surprised -- the last thing I expected for these youngsters to do was to try to get to know someone who didn’t look anything like them. I anticipated them to have an aversion to me merely because I was different. Thankfully, I was proven wrong.
I never thought that there would be such a feeling of welcome and openness in a small, laid-back village such as Maria Anzbach. The people and classmates that I’ve come to know are pleasant, friendly and warm ... and they still are. It didn’t take me very long to feel like I had real friendships, and even if I didn’t know the Austrian-German language by heart, I didn’t see the need for words to be understood or to feel accepted. Soon enough, I was being invited to play dates, birthday parties, and sleepovers -- oh how I loved the sleepovers! Days turned months and months turned into years, my classmates, schoolmates, and teachers never made me feel that I was strange, even if I stood out like a sore thumb in class pictures or in the playground. We were all children who liked the same things, played the same games and ate the same food kids loved. Looking different was never an issue ... and I knew that I belonged.
