Erlebnisse auf dem Schulweg - Geschichten_en_v3

Experiences on the way to school

The children of Inzkofen usually walked together to their school in the next village, Schweinersdorf, a trip of about 45 minutes. With all the work to do on the farm, our mother got up early, and on very cold mornings, roasted potatoes to put in the mittens she had knitted for us. Hot potatoes, one in each mitten, did a wonderful job of warming our hands on the way to school, and made us especially happy on those cold winter mornings. Usually, however, by the time we arrived at school, the potatoes were eaten.

My friend, George, who originally came from the swampy local of Eicherloh near Ismaning, had been adopted as a child by the Ostermaiers in Inzkofen. He was always full of energy, and wherever he went, action of some kind accompanied him. In German, wet, swampy areas are called "Moos", and "Bummal" is a young bull. Thus, his nickname: "Moos-Bummal". A couple of his exploits are worth recounting:

The winter of 1940 was particularly bad, with so much snow that the location of the road could only be found by the wooden posts (Schneepfosten) used to mark its course. One morning, as we were trudging through the snow to school together, George, in a playful mood, leaped with all his strength onto one of the posts. As was customary, he was dressed in the usual oversized, balloon shaped, cotton pants. What George had failed to anticipate was that the pants got caught on the post. Squirm and fidget as much as he could, he could not get free.

Another time, this time in the summer, the children of Inzkofen were again on their way to school. The route took them through the woods north of the village toward Heiglpauli, a lonely little farm. The road was thick in mud, and the iron wheels of the passing wagons had left deep furrows. As the children walked, the milk wagon passed them slowly, heavily laden with milk cans collected from the farms and struggling in the muddy ruts. This gave George an idea: since the milk truck was going in the direction of the school, why walk when you can ride. He announced loudly that it was not difficult to jump onto the back of the wagon and hitch a ride. So he threw his school bag onto the wagon’s loading platform, and then jumped. But his jump failed miserably, and he fell to the road. When he recovered enough to look up, all he could see was the wagon, with his school bag, disappearing over the hills; and all he could hear as he walked to school was the laughter of the other children.


Told in September 2012 by Johann Wiesheu (*1930), Oberappersdorf
Written down in September 2012 by Rita Schweiger, born Wiesheu (*1966), Oberappersdorf
Translation by Johann Wiesheu and Richard Kramer

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