Friday 8 July 2022

11 May 1933: German lessons, Girl in a Smart Uniform

 I couldn’t help staring at Herr Lindemann’s scar. It went all the way across his right cheek, from just under his eye to just above his chin. It was quite deep. He told us once he got it from fencing. “All young German men should learn to fence,” he said. “It’s elegant. It teaches self-discipline. It prepares you to fight. And an injury is a badge of honour.” He’d touched his scar then. I wondered whether it had hurt very much when it happened. Now, though, I was having the chance to have a good look at it. It still looked very red at the edges. I wondered just how long ago it was that he’d got it. 

It always fascinated me though. Today it felt extra special. There was something really exciting about it. There was something about the way he was looking at us, too. His eyes seemed to be on fire. I held my breath, waiting for him to tell us what we were going to do.    

He must have known I was thinking about his scar. He touched it and winced. Then he stood up and made his way over to the board.

“So, ladies and gentleman, you will now write your essay.” He took a chalk stick and started writing. “Our title is ‘Why Germany deserves better’.” He wrote the words on the board. He turned to face us. “You might start out with the argument that we were cheated by the Treaty of Versailles. Then you might go on to argue that we have a lot of assets – not least of all our great German people. You could also point out what is holding us back.”

Thomas put his hand up at this point. Herr Lindemann indicated that he should speak.

“Is it the scum that’s holding us back, sir?”

Herr Lindemann nodded. “Depending of course by what you mean by ‘scum’. Maybe defining that will enhance your essay. If I remember rightly, your essays could do with enhancing.”  

Everyone giggled. Thomas blushed bright red. I did think Herr Lindemann could be quite cruel sometimes.

“And finally,” he said, smirking at Thomas, “you can all add a paragraph about what your role is in helping Germany to take up its rightful position in the world. What must young people of today do?” He looked at his watch. “I’m giving you one hour from now.”

Only one hour. To say all of that? Hmm.

I just had to get on with it. I rolled up my sleeves and sat daydreaming for a few minutes.

“Problem, Gisela?” said Herr Lindemann.

I shook my head.  “Just thinking.”

He nodded. “But don’t spend too much time on that. You’ll think up new ideas as you go along. Remember to get on with it.”

I dipped my pen into the ink pot and then started dashing down the words. Yes, Germany was a beautiful country with her rivers and mountains and good climate. Her people were Christian and hard-working. They were God’s own people. There were enemies of the state who tried to steal what was hers. The rest of the world did not appreciate us and we most certainly had not been treated fairly after the Great War.

This was so easy. I had so much to say.

Soon, my wrist was aching. The skin on my middle finger was getting very hard. My fingers were covered in ink. Still, though, I kept on dipping my pen in the inkpot and then I’d scratch away on the paper. 

I was just writing my last sentence as Herr Lindemann cleared his throat. “That’s it then. Time’s up. Put your pens down.” Gosh. That hour had gone quickly.  

He stopped by my desk. He picked up my essay and started reading it through. “Hmm. Some good ideas here, Gisela. Yes, God’s own people indeed.” He looked up from the paper. “How do we know that, though? How do we know that we are God’s own people? You mention the scum. How do we recognise them? How do we get rid of them? Well? Any ideas anyone?”

Bettina Joseph put her hand up. “They look different from us.”

“That’s right. They do. We have our own particular features. So many of you in class today. Beautiful blond hair and clear blue eyes. That’s the way we want it.”

Well, my hair isn’t all that blond. It’s more light brown. My eyes are blue, though.  Was it all enough to make me look German? I hoped so. I really wanted to serve the new Germany.

“Well, well, well. Yes, good German girls indeed. Good. Now, everyone, you may pack away and make your way home. Talk to your parents about the essay you’ve just written.”     

I started to put my books into my satchel. Herr Lindemann put his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Gisela. I know you are German through and through. Beautiful clear blue eyes. You hair is almost blond. When you’re older you can get some help from a bottle. It will be fine.”

I felt my cheeks go red.

“Really. Don’t worry. Just show what a perfect German girl you are.”

I finished gathering my things as quickly as I could and ran out of the classroom. I ran all the way home. I would show them. I would show them all that I was a fine German citizen.   


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