Two weeks at the Polish school.
Just accept where you are.
When we arrived in Warsaw, I noticed there was a school near our home. Initially, it didn’t even occur to me that I could send my children there. However, after a week, it became clear that restoring routine and giving them tasks to focus on was absolutely essential.
The atmosphere at home, to put it mildly, was not conducive to healthy development. My mom and I were endlessly scrolling through the news and sobbing. Sometimes swearing and crying. The only difference was that I ate and cried, while she smoked and cried.
After a week of this, seeing my children turning into "phone zombies," I realized it had to stop. I took all our passports and resolutely headed to that school to talk to the principal.
I hadn’t looked up the school in advance or made an online appointment. I just knew the passports would be enough.
At 8:00 a.m., I stepped through the doors of a massive, six-story, old building.
What immediately stood out for me.
The walls were covered with drawings about Ukraine — flags, hands, snowdrops, and depictions of solidarity. Everything in this school radiated support for our country.
It felt warm.
It was loud and crowded. Parents and children bustled about, bumping into one another. Locker doors banged open and shut, and the air smelled of bleach mixed with cafeteria food.
I’ve always wondered — do all schools across all countries and eras smell the same?
Several staircases led to the upper floors, and even now, I still get lost in them. Strange photographs hung on the walls, and a boy in a wheelchair was playing ball with other kids right there in the hallway.
Then a pleasant melody played—it turned out to be the bell signaling the start of lessons.
Meeting the Principal.
I found the principal’s office. The door was open, so I knocked gently. A few people were waiting in the reception area. I thought they were moms like me, but no — they were speaking Polish.
The principal and her deputy welcomed me. I explained who I was, where I came from, and how important it was for my children to continue their education. They listened attentively, helped me fill out the forms, and guided me through writing an application — all in Polish.
Without hesitation, my children were accepted into the 1st and 3rd grades.
Settling In.
In Daniil’s 3rd grade class, he was the 20th student, the maximum allowed in this school. Later, two more students joined Platon’s 1st grade class — one from Ukraine and another from Georgia — making their class size 20 as well.
I had assumed there would already be a separate class for Ukrainian children, perhaps focused on teaching Polish, but no such arrangements existed. My children were among the first Ukrainian students there.
I was most anxious when I learned there wouldn’t be any special Polish lessons for them and that they would simply study in regular classes. I worried much more than they did.
A Gentle Start.
The first few days went very smoothly. I want to specifically note how Polish teachers and staff treated Ukrainian children. They’ve been incredibly attentive and empathetic toward my kids and me. On the first day, my children were given small stationery kits and locker keys. Nobody wears outdoor shoes inside; everyone changes into indoor footwear. The language barrier is there, but it seems to resolve itself. First, Polish isn’t a particularly difficult language. Second, the school has a few Ukrainian-speaking staff members. Third, many people know English, which also helps.
Acts of Kindness.
About a week in, Dani’s teacher carefully asked if we could accept items collected by other parents. She emphasized that while it might not be necessary, it was very important for the parents to show their support.
She mentioned one little girl who had been too shy for a week to give Daniil a bag of items her family had prepared for him.
Stressed, I initially said we didn’t need anything, but eventually agreed to take something small.
Later, at home, my mom gently reminded me that we hardly had any clothes at all.
Even now, I feel that as long as we have a roof over our heads, we don’t need much else.
Adapting to School
The school uses a 5-point grading system, and my children are receiving top marks in almost all subjects. The curriculum is simpler than the one they had back home, but I’m not worrying about that for now.
I have other things to be sad about.
There was a curious moment with Religion class. My children weren’t allowed to attend it at first. They were either sent to after-school care or let out early. I decided to find out why.
Religion here is taught from a Catholic perspective, and given our Orthodox background, it was assumed we wouldn’t want to participate. I explained that learning about Catholicism wouldn’t hurt my kids and requested they be allowed to join.
To make this happen, I signed a declaration stating that I voluntarily enrolled my children in these lessons and that this decision was entirely mine. Everything was handled very diplomatically and respectfully.
Making Friends
In Daniil’s class, a few students immediately took him under their wing, helping him with the schedule, lessons, and textbooks. They call him “Daniel” here — the European version of his name.
Platon’s class is similar, but the 1st grade still feels like preschool in some ways — there’s a carpet, toys, and kids can sit on the floor. Platon was even given a soft, stretchy stress toy, which I accidentally broke that very evening.
Daily Life
Lunch costs 77 UAH (2.85 CAD) per day per child, and the kids enjoy the food. Beyond that, I don’t pay for anything else. Of course, we had to buy all the school essentials ourselves — backpacks, uniforms, and so on. When we were shopping for these items, like preparing for the first day of school, my mom cried right there in the store. Every morning, I walk my children to school, and as we go, they quietly sing the Ukrainian national anthem — just as they did every morning at their school back home.
Closing Thoughts
I don’t know how to end this article — it already feels a bit melancholic.
