Get to know the newcomers, activists and volunteers we met in Athens, Berlin and London and their unique experiences of refuge, welcome and the digital city.
Natasa, 87th Experimental Intercultural Primary School
Gazi, Athens, November 2018
This school is called the 87th Experimental Intercultural Primary School of Athens. Experimental… intercultural... these are the state definitions. There’s no difference in the syllabus or salaries from a normal school, the only difference is that we are working with so many diversities that the needs and the methods we practice are different.
In Athens, there are only three intercultural schools and ours, in particular, has a lot of refugee students. There are many schools that are ‘intercultural’ but they don't have this label. In London, half the school population consists of 'other' ethnic groups but you don't need such a concept. I feel that this labelling is discrimination. And that’s why it’s perceived so negatively by local people.
(Athens)
Last year we had a class with students from 13 different ethnic groups. We used to have students mostly from Turkish-speaking minorities and the Albanian Roma community. Then from 2007, we started to have more refugees, mostly Afghanis at the beginning but now also from Syria, Iraq, Kurdistan, some from Pakistan and Bangladesh, and also Chinese. Most of the kids are between six and 12 years old, but we also have some that are more like 15 or 16, even though we are only meant to host students up to 14 years old. The law says that students belong to classes according to their age, but some high schools have sent back students to us that were 15 saying they 'hadn't learnt Greek.' This illegal stance has been criticised and they're starting to follow the rules much more.
The majority of kids in the school now come from Eleonas camp* through the IOM [International Organisation for Migration]. They bring the kids in four busses. About 70 to 80 come steadily, more are enrolled but maybe they left Athens or have other problems. This year we were so happy because there were so many kids that came. They keep talking about closing the camp so we are all waiting to see what’s going to happen. Do the kids stay here, do they go? So it's very unstable for us, too. So there is the instability of movement, of status issues, of what’s happening with the camp. And the aftermath of all this is on us, right? So, it's super stretchy.
* Government-run refugee camp in Athens
(home)
I can count the number of Greek kids in the whole school on my hand. The people in this neighbourhood don't bring their kids here. And they’ve also had many, many problems with us. An ultra far-right local association came and said, ‘Ah! You are not a clean school. If you become a clean school, we will bring our children here.' We were like, ‘what is a clean school?’ They don't like that the area has become a kind of 'ghetto' through time. Even some Albanians that are second or third generation, they feel assimilated and don't want newcomers. They say we don’t teach the kids Greek, which is totally not true. Of course we teach them Greek!
Most of the teachers here have other Masters or a PhD, and very specialised qualifications, like ‘intercultural theatrical play’. So all of us are more highly educated than the average teacher. I think the most valuable skill I have is language. For example, when a child is very resistant to building a relationship, speaking Turkish or Arabic helps a lot. I'm starting to learn Kurdish and I can understand a bit of Farsi too, which is… ufff! Just so great. Even if I was totally ignorant and never finished any university, this skill would be the most important. But I don't use it so much because we are teaching Greek, after all. So it's only for building connections, not when I need to explain something.
We don't celebrate national holidays with the kids when there is no meaning to them. There is a national holiday on the 25th of March, the day we were liberated from the Ottoman Empire. Half of these kids come from ex-Ottoman regions, so what should we say to them: ‘We are glad that we were liberated from you?’ No, it doesn't make any sense. So instead, we celebrated Nowruz, the Turkish and Iranian holiday. We danced and we had green, red and yellow colours and it was like a real festival for them because they understood it.
(Athens)
I’ve been working here for 12 years and I can’t imagine working in any other school, where parents are more concerned about teaching methods or whatever… I hate that. Education is not the most important thing, it’s about being in an environment where they feel safe and happy, and can interact with other kids. This role of an educator is like a social worker. One boy’s father came yesterday and said his kid is waking up at six to come to school, he’s so happy to come! There are many kids that come from war zones and have never even been to school, so the impact for them is really big, it’s something stable in their lives. So, okay, sometimes I do mind when they touch everything, but I also don't mind. Because they need to do it, they need to play.
Over one year later, things have rapidly changed, especially during the Coronavirus crisis. These days there is a demonstration outside Eleonas Camp... they are forcing the people out of the camps, cutting off food so people leave, futureless and on the run again. There are about 300 people there, mostly families, and our students among them. Us teachers also help by collecting basic needs to bring them. I can't find words to describe the situation... 'cleansing' would be the one. — June 2020
