My fathers, Misza Wasserman Wroblewskis first houres at Korczaks Orphanage Dom Sierot at Krochmalna street in Warszawa. It is a part of his memories that will appear in a book "7 years good Years with Korczak".
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| At the time I started my work, the Orphanage had already existed since 1912 - it was almost at my age. A bright two-storey building with cellar and attic was located at the far end of a large courtyard. Pictures from the Polish newspaper (Tygodnik Nowy, Juni 21, 1919, Warszawa) describing life in Korczaks Orphanage |
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| The large dining hall was not exactly noisy, but it hummed with the children’s voices. I was allocated a place at table 4 with six boys and one girl. The children helped themselves to the food, hospitably passing the dishes to me. Apparently we were allowed any amount of food but it was wrong to leave anything on one’s plate. Pictures from the Polish newspaper (Tygodnik Nowy, Juni 21, 1919, Warszawa) describing life in Korczaks Orphanage |
On September 1st, 1931 I arrived in Warsaw, 92 Krochmalna St. I was received by the manager of the orphanage, Stefania Wilczynska. The conversation was polite but brief and to the point - she had a lot of other duties to perform. I was given two days free to look around and get to know the environment.
A twelve year old boy called Felek Grzyb was my guide, showing me the living arrangements, sometimes adding short explanations: “Here everyone takes their shoes off so as not to bring in dust and mud.” “Here is the kitchen - nothing interesting. Mrs Doba rules here. Here are all the pots and pans, and here are the plates and cups and saucers. And the place is as clean as a whistle - it’s simply frightening!”
I said: “I suppose the girls help out a bit?”
Felek changed his tone. “What do you think? They work in shifts, and the boys do too...” He obviously wanted to change the subject and said: “Just look at this little gadget - you put the hot dishes on it and turn the winch, and they arrive in the dining hall still hot. You can try it yourself.” He opened a door which led to a small study, and then to another room, which he described as a sort of sewing room.
We entered a large hall. I noticed many rows of little drawers on one side. “Everybody has his own,” Felek said. “We put various things in them. The little ones even put things like buttons, boxes, coloured glass, and stones - their treasures” he added with an air of superiority, pointing to the bottom drawers. Afterwards he added proudly: “There are no keys - we don’t need them.”
My guide was beginning to show signs of tiredness in his role. He stopped in front of a large blackboard and invited me to have a look. I read and tried to comprehend all sorts of charts - paragraphs of the Law of the House, a list of minor offences, units of work, a list of questions, etc. I asked timidly: “What do these paragraphs mean?”
“I can’t answer that question straight away - it’s not simple,” he said. “In a few weeks you’ll understand it all”. After a few moments he added: “By the way, I was a judge too.” Another question mark, more wondering on my part.
“Now we are standing in front of the Silent Room. You have to keep quiet here. The children are doing their homework. Miss Janka is on duty now. We’re not allowed to go in without a reason. But I’ll show you something else.” He shuffled a few pages of a thick hard-cover writing book and let me read: “Helcia gives thanks to Felek for defending her from naughty boys in the street.” Further on: “Szaja thanks Jacob for finding his purse and returning it to him. Szlamek thanks Felek for the loan of 10p for a tram fare, so he was not late for school.” And there was more in the same style.
Afterwards I was to hear the words of the Doctor many times: “Evil is easy to recognise, so it is necessary to seek out and emphasise even small signs of good.”
I realised now that Felek needed some words of appreciation. But he did not leave me time for comments. Coming up the stairs he said: “This is a special room.” I thought perhaps it was a room for isolating children who had misbehaved. But Felek explained: “This couch is for children who don’t feel well or are convalescing after an illness, and cannot take part in sports and games. Did you say it is quiet there? Look down from here on what is going on downstairs! The children are coming back with Mr Jacov from the cinema. In an hour it’ll be time for dinner and you won’t be able to recognise this hall. You’ll see that it’s not so quiet! All right, we’ll go on. This is the infirmary, and on the left are the tutors’ rooms.”
A group of children arrived upstairs. I felt that I was being observed with curiosity, as if I were being exhibited at the zoo. Suddenly I heard the word “giraffe” and a giggle from the girls. I understood that it was a reference to my height and my long neck. Instinctively, I pretended not to hear. Later on, the Doctor assured me that sometimes it was the right thing to do to pretend not to hear, and not to make a fuss over small things.
“In a moment everyone will rush to wash their hands, even if they are quite clean,” announced the youngster. A few minutes before, Felek had shown us the bathrooms, baths and showers. Half joking, he said: “Legs are not like necks; we have to wash them every day.” Obviously he thought that washing was unduly emphasised and was a waste of time.
We climbed to the second floor. “Here are the bedrooms. Boys on the right, girls on the left. In between there is a room for the tutor on duty, with small windows looking out over the two bedrooms. Sometimes the Doctor sleeps here.”
In front of the bedrooms I noticed buckets, rags and brushes. I was wondering why these were not hidden. Luckily I did not ask my guide. This new little world was to be both my home and my university - in the fullest sense of the word - for many years to come. Felek opened a door and said mischievously: “Now, close your eyes tightly and guess where we are.”
“How? You won’t let me look?” I asked.
“No, just use your nose.”
I couldn’t guess. “This proves how clean it is in our toilets!” Felek said triumphantly. “For cleaning the toilets we have work units - perhaps they are unpleasant, but they are shorter than other work units. The children are in charge of keeping order, and almost everybody helps.”
“What is a work unit?” I asked casually.
“Oh, you are too curious, you want to know everything at once and you ask so many questions. You must be patient!”
I had a feeling that he was starting to lose his patience. I did not say anything, but Felek interrupted the embarrassing silence, asking “Can you play netball or Ping-Pong, or do you skate?” I answered in the affirmative. “That’s wonderful. You’ll be useful here,” he added seriously. “Tell all this to the Doctor when you talk to him.” His words did not come across as an impudence from a youngster, but rather as advice from one man to another.
Two more things surprised me during my tour of the orphanage. Firstly, I noticed that the boy tried not to use slang while talking to me. Secondly, and more importantly, the child was talking to me, an adult, in a way to which I was not accustomed. He was unusually poised and comfortable - not like the proverbial children I was expected to imitate in my childhood, who were “seen and not heard”.
Felek led me to the room I was going to share with the other tutors. “Now you should unpack your things and watch the clock. Dinner...” the word was uttered with a mischievous smile and in it I seemed to hear a sort of warning, “...will be ready soon”.
The boy was right. It was much easier to unpack and put my belongings in order than to absorb my first impressions and overcome my uneasiness.
The large dining hall was not exactly noisy, but it hummed with the children’s voices. I was allocated a place at table 4 with six boys and one girl. The children helped themselves to the food, hospitably passing the dishes to me. Apparently we were allowed any amount of food but it was wrong to leave anything on one’s plate. It was better to take less and have some more if desired. The children’s appetite was great, as was their curiosity. I was flooded with questions: where did I come from, was it the first time I’d been in Warsaw, etc.
I was not planning to lose myself in small details. If I have described too specifically my impressions from my first day at the orphanage it is not only because they were memorable. I intend to return and refer to them.
Now, perhaps more about some other impressions.
At the time I started work, the Orphanage had already existed since 1912 - it was almost at my age. A bright two-storey building with cellar and attic was located at the far end of a large courtyard, overshadowed by a spreading chestnut tree and a large acacia. On one side, separated by a wall, it bordered a green park which belonged to a factory; on the other a tall wooden fence beside the courtyard of a block of flats.
Neither on the iron gates opening onto the street, nor on the wall of the orphanage building itself was there ever a plaque during my time there. I personally disliked the word “orphanage”. Perhaps it is strange or sentimental of me, because when I met my former wards many years later, none of them said that they had ever had similar reservations. I much prefer the name of the similar institution “Our Home”, or that used after the War: “The Children’s Home”.
