My classmate Wasel was always up for anything if it attracted enough attention. He came as a displaced child from the Baltic States and unfortunately only stayed for a short time at the Askanische Gymnasium, which we simply called Aska. Maybug time – back then, these little bugs were still around in large quantities. One had strayed into our classroom, and Wasel insisted they were edible. Although I was short on cash, I immediately offered him one Reichsmark – a lot of money at the time, which would have been enough for two cinema tickets. He was only supposed to put the beetle in his mouth, which, of course, he did right away. The large, interested audience didn’t anticipate – he certainly didn’t either – that the little animal would start kicking about in its mouth. He couldn’t get it out of his mouth. There was some cheerful screaming among the boys, his desperate face, some hopping around and choking noises – eventually, he had swallowed the beetle, and I had lost my bet.
With some of our teachers, we had our doubts about their ability to teach. For example, there was a new math teacher who was a really not well in terms of mental health, and that was ruthlessly and shamelessly exploited by us students. Only after his departure, were we told that he had probably been buried during the war and that he had suffered nerve damage as a result. In any case, his lessons were usually chaotic. His movements were erratic with constant twitching, he usually spoke ways too fast, and from time to time, he literally stepped away mentally or reacted frantically to small things, especially noises. And what did Wasel do? One day, he brought a wagon from a model railway to school, which he then pushed around on the floor between the benches during the lesson. He pushed it to us, and we pushed it back. With the ongoing clattering sound, we didn’t have to wait long for the teacher’s reaction. He completely freaked out, and when he finally caught the vehicle, he trampled on it while screaming wildly. There was an awkward silence, but it was to get worse. Wasel threw himself on the ground in front of the trampling teacher, clutched the teacher’s legs and cried about his destroyed wagon. Slowly, it dawned on us what we had done, and we elected some class representatives, who went to the headmaster to report everything. We offered an apology, however, the damage had been done, and the teacher no longer taught at our school.
