The secondary school teacher, from Kyiv, has been leading a class of Ukrainian students, aged 12 to 17, since April. They are located in Potsdam, a German city just west of Berlin, where the Helmholtz Gymnasium, or high school, has given them space and resources. Mashkova has been hired to teach German in one of the thousands of willkommensklassen, or welcome classes, set up in schools across the country. She fled the war in Ukraine in early March with her 16-year-old son and five-year-old daughter, leaving behind her husband, a Ukrainian army officer. Like her students, mostly from southern and eastern Ukraine, Mashkova hoped for a quicker end to the war. Now they are back together at the start of the new school year, with only a few changes to the classroom makeup. There are some newcomers and some students from the Kiev area who texted her during the six-week break to let her know they were back home. One of their first conversations on their return after summer break was to check in on their families, and she recalls how relieved she was to hear that “nothing dramatic” had happened to them. “We’re in this together. I’m here to help them, but we’re all in a similar situation, making the best of it, and for the most part we can see it as a positive experience,” says Mashkova. “We have little choice.” Liudmyla Mashkova teaches her Ukrainian students at the Helmholtz Gymnasium in Potsdam, Germany. Photo: Kate Connolly/The Guardian Hers are among more than 150,000 school-age children who have arrived in Germany since the start of the Russian invasion and are being integrated into the school system. Mashkova is one of several Ukrainian teachers who are vital to the effort, largely because of the shortage of some 30,000 German teaching staff. Opinions differ on the best way to train them. German authorities are shaping the housing of young Ukrainians based on experience since 2015, when nearly 1 million refugees arrived from Syria. Then the willkommesklassen were introduced with the aim of teaching the new arrivals German and preparing them for eventual transfer to regular classes. Ukraine’s consul general, Iryna Tybinka, however, insisted that the Ukrainian children should be able to continue with their home school programs because of what she called the temporary nature of their stay. Mashkova recognizes the strong motivation among her students and their parents, with whom she is in close contact, to return home as soon as possible. But there is also realism in the desire to learn German, partly because of the recognition that they may be there for the next two years at least. Artur Ivanov, 14, from Odessa, who already spoke some German when he arrived on March 18, insists he has no plans to return to Ukraine. “My parents got a job. It is better for us to build a new life here,” he says. He already attends music, vocational, art and math classes with German students. But he is looking forward to getting his German to “B1 level” – “hopefully by January” – so he can join a regular classroom permanently. Kate Pavlenko, from Kharkiv, arrived five months ago with her mother and her pets, dog Robin and parrot Krosha. He describes the experience of being in Germany in his basic but solid German as “good, interesting and safe”. Kate and her classmate Daria Ilnytstka, from Kyiv, could take extra online lessons offered by their teachers in Ukraine after the German school day ends. Instead, the 13-year-old friends take the tram to Potsdam’s Montelino Circus School, where they were able to continue the stunts they performed in Ukraine. Classmates and friends Daria Ilnytstka and Kate Pavlenko, both 13. Photo: Kate Connolly/The Guardian “Next to my family and friends is the most important thing I have here,” says Daria, describing how she spent her summer vacation learning the art of aerial silk. “I want to get away from this experience as much as I can,” says Ksennia Okulova, 15, who enjoys “learning German and getting to know the culture” and appreciates that she is currently in a class with other Ukrainians. Students can share experiences and feelings that German students might not understand, she says – from life in a shipping container, where she has been since her arrival in April, to the advances of the Ukrainian military. Her friend from home, Sebastian Kohan, who followed her to Potsdam, wears his grandfather’s ring on a chain around his neck – a gift from his father who works with the army, which he says keeps him close. “It’s a relief to be here, even if it takes some time to get used to the German way of life,” he said. “They go to bed very early and we have to be very quiet in the mornings and evenings. There are many rules. But they are also very tolerant of each other. I feel that here you can be whoever you want to be.” Sebastian’s cat, Watson, is being looked after by another family for now as the place where he lives does not allow pets. “Hopefully we’ll get him back soon,” he says.
