7/30/2019 A day in the life of a Tito's pioneer

1/2

Writing project 2

The interview questions:

1. What did your bedroom look like as a child?2. How did you wake up in the morning in the absence of an alarm clock?

3. What was your friend Sandra like?

4. Were you often late for school?

5. What did your street look like?

6. What did your school look like?

7. How was your day organized at school?

8. Did you like you teacher?

9. What did she look like?

10. Was your teacher very strict?

11. What did you normally do in class?

12. Did you know how to read and write?13. Were your classes interesting to you?

14. What were your teachers teaching methods like?

15. Were you ever punished for misbehaving?

16. What is the one punishment that you could say particularly strikes out in your

memory?

17. How did the punisment make you feel?

18. Did this punishment have a postive or a negative effect on your behavior in

class?

Ljiljana Marinkovic looks to the sky nostalgically as she begins her tale: Those were

completely different times, you know. We were much more disciplined, respectful

with our elders, and most certainly modest than chidren nowadays

She managed to open her eyes with considerable effort. The weak morning light hurt

her pupils that were still sensitive from sleep and she quickly closed them again. A

rooster crowed somewhere in the distance. She forced heself to pry her lids open

again. The room was still dark, the pale light coming from the window barely enough

to reveal the bars of her wooden bed. The shapes of wood rings were silhouetted

beneath the lacquer. The miniature of Virgin Mary stood on the shelf and seemed tobeckon her toward another school day. Her small bedroom was sparse, nearly devoid

of any furniture. Building the house in Bosnia was eating away at her parentsmoney

and little could be spared for bedroom-furnishing. Ljiljanas two-year-old sister still

slept in their parents bed. The shelf on the wall above her bed contained several of

Ljiljanas textbooks and a stuffed toy for which she considered hersef too big, but

from which she could not bear to part.

As she looked up toward the low ceiling, she started frightfully when she was

suddenly faced with a pair of dark eyes. The scare was quickly replaced by panic, for

she immediately realised that it was her neighbour and close friend Sandra. She had

come to collect her for school and it meant that Ljiljana was running late. She hopped

out of her bed, ignoring the chill that engulfed her nearly momentarily and feverishlyput on her simple dark cotton skirt and white threadbare shirt. Brushing her short-

7/30/2019 A day in the life of a Tito's pioneer

2/2

cropped wavy brown hair, she pushed her feet into her school shoes, commonly

referred to as the Albanians and put on her dark-blue cotton school apron. The

apron had a small pocket on the chest, with two simple flowers weaved into it-a rare

luxury among her classmates. She turned to look at Sandra. She was dressed nearly

identically as Ljiljana, except that her Albanians were more worn out, with the soles

of the shoes on the brink of detaching. Her apron had no weaving on it. She was atimid child, not given to strong expressions of emotion, but even she allowed her foot

to twitch slightly every few seconds as her eyes anxiously strayed from Ljiljana to the

small metal clock on the shelf as she repeatedly fiddled with the red Pioneer shawl

around her neck.

As soon as Ljiljana collected her schoolbag, the girls rushed out of the apartment and

onto the street. The sound of their feet resonated over the smooth gravel rocks. Dust

rose into the air and flew around their heads, making them sneeze with every hurried

intake of breath. As they approached the school, they were forced to plug their noses

so as not to breathe in the small, white feathery scraps-the matzas- that fluttered

around them. The poplar trees in the schoolyard were in their pollinating season and

the scraps invaded every street in the schools immediate vicinity, occasionallyreaching even farther. The schoolyard was covered with them, the white carpet

resembling snow although it was the beginning of summer. The school building rose

in front of the two girls with its towering grey walls and huge white metal windows.

Each class formed a line in front of the large door and students stood calmly two at a

time as their teachers called them up-class after class-to enter the school. Ljiljanas

class turn was up and she ran up breathlessly to stand at the lines end. Mrs.

Stjepanovic-Duran, the formidable teacher, frowned with disapproval, but made no

comment as the class filed into the classroom.

Ljiljana observed her teacher admiringly as she led the pupils. Her luxurous calf-

length leather skirt swished around her as she walked and her greying hair was coiled

in a tight bun on top of her head.

Ljiljana hopped in her seat as the teacher made her painstakingly slow process

through the class. She watched as the lady bowed over a students book, her long,

well-maintained nail tracing the sentence as the student spelled out individual words

in a painfully slow, laboured manner. Ljiljanas heart jumped with excitement as her

turn came. She would finally get to show off her excellent reading skills and obtain

some relief from the opressing boredom. Her teachers eyes touched on Ljiljana

briefly, and in the ensuing second slid over to the next pupil. She passed by her seat

without a comment. Disappointment washing over her, Ljiljana allowed hereself a

small cry of dissatisfaction as she frustradedly jumped up in her chair. Mrs.

Stjepanovic Duran turned her head at the disturbance and, wthout a word, thwackedher on the head with her long plastic ruler. Awash in mortification, Ljiljana bowed her

head as she felt her cheeks redden with shame. I sat quietly during reading hours

from that day on, she adds matter-of-factly.