October 5 marks World Teachers’ Day, a moment to celebrate the immense role teachers play in the lives of children. For children growing up amid conflict, teachers often provide not only knowledge but also stability, authority, and a sense of safety in otherwise disrupted childhoods.
Among the 6,000 personal objects and stories from more than 20 conflict-affected contexts in our collection are many memories children shared about their teachers. In honor of this year’s World Teachers’ Day, we invite you to explore some of these stories.
Frightened Teacher
I learned to write during war. I started elementary school in September 1992. The classes didn’t take place inside a classroom, but in the Šehić family grocery store. Shelling was an everyday thing. On one such day, I was finishing a drawing on the theme of “Happy Family Away from War” and then came the call to evacuate. Half-way on the path to safety, I managed to free my hand from the teacher’s. I was dead sure that on my feet were magic slippers that would help me outrun shells and sniper fire, and so I went straight back to the store to grab my notebook, because I wanted to finish the drawing. Nobody would ever yell at me the way that frightened teacher did when she was trying to explain to me that I don’t have magic slippers and that my reckless escape could have cost me my life.
Mersiha, born 1987, BiH
The Best Student
I was in the sixth grade of primary school, and the only student in my class who was of a different ethnicity. The other kids often got nasty; they would draw nationalist symbols on my notebooks and atlas or just taunt me directly. The teachers were the same, all of them aside from my Math teacher, Mara Torbica. She was always thoughtful, and in situations where I was in danger, she would send me home and write absence notes.
In Geography class, we learned about the territories that were home to one people only, and on tests we praised the military successes and territorial expansion. Because of my immense desire to maintain all A’s, I would write the “correct” answers on tests—I was hoping that I would be declared the best student at the end of the year. At the end of the year, as we were standing in front of the teacher’s room, my teacher Mara hugged me tightly. She told me that, despite my good grades, I could not be declared the best publicly. It was only later that I cried my eyes out over it.
Ornela, born 1980, BiH
The Ugly Duckling
My grandma taught the Serbo-Croatian language, and my grandpa worked as a teacher. During the war, the two of them helped brighten up my childhood. In the evenings, when we had no electricity and could hear shooting outside, my grandma and I would read stories by candlelight. These were usually Grimm’s Fairy Tales, stories by Ivo Andrić and Branko Ćopić, or Andersen’s “The Ugly Duckling.” Thanks to my grandma and her stories, as well as my grandpa who taught me how to read and write in wartime, and of course my parents, I grew up knowing that there would be happier and more beautiful times again.
Darija, born 1987, BiH
School Photograph
During the war I attended primary school in Srebrenica. Students from a few different grades attended classes in the same classroom, which was under constant threat of shelling. Despite that fear, our teacher always did the best he could.
The photograph I’m giving to the War Childhood Museum is a memento of mine from the first grade of primary school. We didn’t have many opportunities to take pictures during the war, which makes this photo the first and only memento of my school days.
Dželaludina, born 1984, BiH
Ballet Online
I remember school stopped for two weeks. But not ballet. The full-scale war started on the 24th, and by the 27th we already had Zoom conferences where we practiced ballet. Our teacher stayed in Kyiv and didn’t go anywhere. She conducted classes online every day, and those who could, joined. We worked on our technique and did stretches.
These conferences weren’t just for our studio. Children from any city could join us. We would log in, talk a bit, ask how everyone was, where they were, if everything was alright. I remember one girl from Odesa; we were in the middle of a class when suddenly her lights went out. We heard an explosion, and she, without turning off her camera, ran for the basement.They were shelling during our class.
Sofiia, born 2009, Ukraine