Maria (66) talks about her time as a teacher and pioneer leader in Lauchhammer – and how the civics taught in the classroom sometimes did not match the reality in the factories.
When I came back to Lauchhammer after my studies, I came from the direction of Plessa. I knew I wasn’t far — I could smell it. Really. The coal dust in the air. Early in the morning, the footpaths were full of people heading to work. I always left a little later — the others had already started at six. Most of them rode their bikes. You could see the marks on the pavements, black traces from the coal.
I worked at a school in Lauchhammer back then, where I was both a teacher and a pioneer leader. I didn’t want to just be a teacher — organising things, that was my passion. Assigning tasks, checking up on them, carrying them out, writing reports — that had always been my thing. As a pioneer leader, I organised extracurricular activities in the afternoons. We did all sorts of nice things — night hikes and things like that. Not just what was on the agenda, what was prescribed — like the monthly members’ meetings.
We also collected recyclables — that kept us busy. First, we had to get everything ready, all the containers. Then we had thirty classes, so we had to sort out which class had collected how many bottles, jars, stacks of waste paper. We’d evaluate which class did best. And then we had to organise everything, because there were prizes. I even danced the lambada with them when that was a thing. I wasn’t exactly by the book — I was a bit of a crazy chick, to put it bluntly. Of course, there were also the monthly events with topics that came from above — the flag ceremony, for example. The classes handled that, and I helped prepare it.
I also taught civics — six hours a week. It was just a completely normal subject for me. Today they call it political education. Oh, I experienced a lot. It was a wonderful time — and fun, too. And among us colleagues… I don’t remember anyone being stupid or anything like that.
I didn’t want to join the Communist Party back then. But as a pioneer leader and civics teacher, that really wasn’t possible. And I couldn’t just say I wasn’t mature enough yet — that used to be our excuse when we were young. Then I had to go to the district leadership in Senftenberg. They talked to me. ‘Yes, Maria, think about your career advancement.’ And I said, ‘Well, if everyone in the party is like that, you can forget it.’ They didn’t say anything after that. Then they went on, ‘Then you can’t work in your profession.’ And I said, ‘Well, I didn’t think we had professional bans like in the West.’ They never talked to me again. But later, I did join the SED — through a young colleague. She was great; she helped me a lot. Well, okay — so I was in the club, too.
Back then, I also had a clique — a circle of friends. We always helped each other out. That still exists today, but not like it used to. The men did the electrical wiring in our new flat after work. As a thank-you, I made dinner — and then the men would sit around talking about work, what was going on in the factories and so on. And there I was — a girl, a young woman — right in the middle of it all. I’d say, ‘Well then, go to the union! Complain!’ And they’d say, ‘Girl, keep dreaming.’ They always laughed at me — I couldn’t understand it. I’d learned differently. There was the theory, and then there was the practice.
Then came the fall of the Berlin Wall. That’s when I let myself go a little crazy. ‘Yes, your diploma won’t be recognised’ — and so on. That’s just how it was back then. I thought, well, things are going to change anyway. There are fewer children — that was already clear to me. So somehow, on a strange hunch, I decided to find something new right away, before they let me go later. And since I’d always liked dealing with money — I’d also managed the finances for the school and for the pioneers — I ended up at the tax office as, well, a worker.
I also took some courses — computer courses. That was when computers were just starting out. I also did a course in accounting. Then I came across a Wessi — a West German, so to speak — a tax advisor. She disappeared after three months, and we were left sitting there with all the files from doctors, self-employed people, and who knows who else. So we started calling people and saying, ‘Come and pick up your stuff.’ Coincidentally, a motorbike dealer was looking for an office worker. He took me on straight away — with all his files. I stayed there for a few years. Then my parents had an acquaintance who owned five textile shops, and she was looking for someone for her office. So I switched from motorbikes to textiles. But at some point, she stopped. She’d taken on a bit too much with those five shops. And then I became unemployed. It was a strange feeling — really awful. I’d always earned more than my husband. It just felt… stupid, somehow. After that, I went to WEQUA — that’s the Economic Development Qualification Company. I worked there as a project assistant until I became unable to work. And now I’m retired.
Lauchhammer has changed a lot. People have left — our population has halved. The town looks completely different now. Neustadt I — the boarded-up windows. It’s a listed area, the housing estate that was built here especially for the coking plant, for the coal. My grandmother lived there — it was wonderful. The spaces in between — with paddling pools, benches, all so beautiful. Neustadt II has changed too. Living has changed. Well, they’ve modernised everything and made it all nice. But I’m starting to wonder where the tenants are supposed to come from. Who’s going to move in here? There used to be so many children in every flat. One child was too few — two, sometimes even three. The parents slept in the children’s bedroom, and the children had the bigger bedroom. Today, there’s one Ukrainian child in the house next door — and that’s it. And a lot of long-time residents who’ve lived here from the beginning. It’s crazy.”