The search for victims and the identification of bodies is ongoing in Kharkiv. Last Saturday, Russia fired two guided bombs at a hardware store. So far there have been at least 18 deaths and over 40 injuries, and seven people are still missing.
A DW reporter was in Kharkiv last week when there was a 16-hour air alert there. It was impossible to sleep at night because the city was under attack by missiles and drones. But in the morning, nine-year-old Saschko got up, combed his hair, had breakfast and went to school – for the first time in over two years, since the Russian invasion of Ukraine began.
“A real school bell,” calls teacher Natalja Schwez and turns to the third graders who sit down at their tables. “I welcome you all to the underground school”.
There are eleven children in the class, all of them wearing embroidered blouses and shirts. Another nine joined online from abroad. The teacher is no less happy about the face-to-face lessons than the children. She last saw her students in person on February 23, 2022. “The next morning we heard explosions,” Schwez recalls of the day the invasion began, adding: “Some were fleeing the war, others thought the schools would open, but everyone was wondering what the classes would be like go on.”
From then on, classes were only held online. Russia has now destroyed more than half of the city’s schools. Therefore, last year, local authorities began setting up classrooms in subway stations for more than two thousand students.
On May 13th, an entire underground school was put into operation at a depth of six meters. It offers space for almost 900 children, who complete the lessons in two shifts. The city wants to create more such schools in several districts.
“My mother was a child of war. I never thought that my daughter and these children would also become war children. “You keep hearing explosions,” says teacher Natalja Schwez. Her daughter finished school during the war, but there was no traditional ball with an evening dress and dancing.
In the underground school, lessons begin with the Ukrainian national anthem. Air alarms often sound during lessons and the electricity in parts of the city is repeatedly switched off as planned. But the students at the underground school stay at their tables – all the conditions for lessons are there.
Previously, Saschko had only attended classes online. “It wasn’t nice, my eyes hurt and the power often went out,” says the boy. And when class was interrupted by explosions, he ran into the apartment hallway for protection. “But I got used to it,” he emphasizes, referring to the constant Russian shelling.
Saschko says he missed face-to-face classes, but he realized that attending a normal school was too dangerous. Because a rocket could hit nearby. “If only buildings are damaged, then it is less tragic and sad than if people die,” says the third-grader.
The Russian army has been conducting an offensive in the north of the Kharkiv region since the beginning of May. It has increased the shelling of the city of Kharkiv and apparently wants to move closer to it. The city’s residents know what this means: their homes could come under artillery fire again, as they did at the beginning of the invasion. Although there is no panic in the city, many citizens are thinking about moving away.
Sashko’s family could also leave Kharkiv. “But I don’t want to go abroad without dad,” says the boy sadly, wanting to stay despite the shelling. “I have lived here for nine years,” says Saschko, who was born in Kharkiv. He visited other cities, but he didn’t like any of them. “I just always missed my home,” he emphasizes.
Serhiy Antonov, who is bringing his son Sashko to underground guilt, stands for a while at the classroom door. “This is really a joy for our children,” he smiles and takes a photo of his son sitting down at his table.
Yegor, another student in the class, is brought to school by his mother. Both the boy’s father and his older brother are deployed in the Ukrainian army and at the front. “I was very sad,” Yegor remembers of the day when he found out that they would both have to go to war. “I want the war to be over,” he says and runs to his classmates because recess has just begun. Among them he finds distraction from his sad thoughts.
In the afternoon, classes in the underground school are over and suddenly another Russian rocket hits the city. This time a residential building was hit, leaving three dead and more than 30 injured. “It never ends,” says teacher Natalja Schwez about the Russian attacks and emphasizes: “This is constant stress for us. But we are holding on. It is our decision to stay in Kharkiv. This is our home.”
A tall column of black smoke stands over the center of Kharkiv. People look up at her but continue walking through the streets. It smells of blooming acacias and flowers carefully planted in beds. The windows and roofs of destroyed buildings are covered with sheets of plywood. “The city is being shelled and rebuilt at the same time. Kharkiv is probably the strongest city,” says Saschko when asked why he doesn’t want to leave.
“Ukraine had 48 million inhabitants, but three to five million left,” the boy says sadly. Hundreds of civilians have fallen victim to the constant attacks on Kharkiv. “Russia killed them,” is written on a memorial stone dedicated to the children killed in this war. There are stuffed animals and fresh flowers all around.
Just a few days later, the Russians attacked Kharkiv again – with ten rockets. Seven people die, including employees of a children’s book printing company.
Adaptation from Ukrainian: Markian Ostaptschuk
Author: Hanna Sokolova-Stekh
The original for this article “Kharkiv – lessons at a depth of six meters” comes from Deutsche Welle.