My Sister - my Teacher - my Tormentor

Our hamlet of Neue Muehle boasted a small primary school catering for years one to four. The school was housed in what used to be a rather large mansion formerly owned by a very wealthy family. The Russians, being communists, did not approve of such wealth. As the old joke goes: a communist is someone who owns nothing and wants to share it with everybody - a capitalist is someone who owns plenty and doesn't want to share it with anybody.

The Teacher & the Pupil - 1st Day

Anyways, my 6th birthday passed and on September 1st of that year, I started school. My sister Gisela, being a weeny bit older than me (17 years to be exact) was a teacher at that little primary school - and guess what? She became my class teacher. A rather splendid arrangement for both of us.
Here is a picture of my first school day (sorry about the quality - it was in East Germany after all). You got to pose with your teacher - my sister - and show off your 'School Cone', a large paper cone filled with goodies like lollies and cake, sorry no chocolate in them days.
Well, day one was pretty much taken up by posing for the picture and getting to know your teacher. A rather boring process for me. You had to wait your turn, in alphabetical order, amongst 25 other kids and getting to know the teacher was really somewhat wasted on me.
My sister always went to great pains to not show any favours to her brother! I was never asked to get the books out of the cupboard or write on that delightfully squeaky blackboard with the chalk that would forever crumble. Another bonus  was being scolded in front of the entire class for my 'atrocious' handwriting. I also had the privilege of being supervised at home, doing my homework by my sister! my teacher, my tormentor.

The classroom, teacher & Window for chatting

One particular episode that sticks in my mind was towards the end of year one. It was early June and rather pleasant weather.My homework had been, according to my teacher, exceptionally shoddy.
"Michael, you will have to stay behind after classes finish and write 100 times 'I shall never write illegibly again', she announced in front of the entire class.
Well, two can tango. She went home to have her lunch and I stayed back to complete my task. It took me all of 5 minutes to do so, being an expert at bad and speedy handwriting. I then hung out the window and chatted with the gardener, who seemed quite pleased for someone to be interested in his work for once. He was quite a chatty chappy about 100 years old, from my perspective.
Well, my teacher arrived back after an hour and a half to collect me. That's when the real revenge was taken  I kicked her in the shin and knee on the way home and said: "You just wait till Mum gets home, I will tell on you. You are so mean!"
Mum, as usual, was an expert mediator and negotiator and encouraged both camps to hoist the white flag and make peace.
Despite that rather heavy altercation my teacher saw fit to give me an excellent year report. I suspect it was mainly done due to her knowledge that she would not be my class teacher in Year 2.

                                                         

Now, here is today's bonus: The short translation of the report card is that I am excellent, except in Phys Ed. If you need a complete translation, either contact me or go to  dict.leo.org