The war in Ukraine started at the beginning of the second half of the 2021/2022 school year. Since then, two full years of schooling have passed, which gives an indication of how well the Czech Republic has managed to integrate Ukrainian children forced to flee the occupation. On March 21, 2022, new legislation, the so-called Lex Ukrajina, came into force.[1] It was designed to support the integration and education of Ukrainian children at all stages of the Czech school system. However, it is already clear that in terms of their inclusion in the Czech education system, there is still room for improvement. Its inaccessibility to Ukrainian children can have a significant impact on their further study and employment opportunities in the Czech Republic, as well as on Ukrainian culture, should they decide to return home.[2]
The system of state-provided care for the children who could become an important part of our society (and not only in economic terms) plays an essential role in the process of their inclusion. Texts of authors exploring the social and cultural context of educational institutions offer potential answers as to why schools and kindergartens are indispensable in the pursuit of unifying society and understanding its culture. In his book Culture of the School and the Problem of Change, Seymour Bernard Sarason emphasizes the unquestionable role of schools as places of socialization where we gain experience of what is right and what is expected of us from childhood.[3]
Ensuring sufficient capacity for newcomers from Ukraine in Czech educational institutions is not only an essential tool for their integration, but important for their future in general as well. This may naturally raise concerns among Ukrainian society about whether the integration of pupils into the Czech education system could disrupt their relationship with their original culture and nationalist sentiment; however, fear of the potential impact of neglecting the education of Ukrainian children trumps these concerns.
Let Us Not Allow Russia to Destroy Ukrainian Education
The top-down measures, particularly the aforementioned set of laws regarding education, Lex Ukrajina, failed to provide care to all in need of education at various stages during the time of the highest influx of refugees, at the turn of February and March of 2022. Especially in the initial months after the invasion, some children were excluded from the Czech education system – despite increasing classroom capacities in existing institutions. In Prague, Oksana Breslavska founded an organization, Dětem Ukrajiny (For Children of Ukraine), primarily to provide education to children who, for various reasons, could not enroll into local schools and kindergartens.[1] Their lessons follow the Ukrainian curriculum, so that children who return to Ukraine can continue their schooling there.[2] Whether this informal school (and kindergarten) caters to families that want to return home to Ukraine as soon as possible, or those who need specific preparation for the transition to a Czech institution, its mission remains to prevent “the Russian aggression from destroying the Ukrainian nation not only with bombs, but also by neglected education of the coming generations”.[3]
During the months after the onset of war, the association helped about 280 children who were taught first in the premises of St. Augustine’s School or New PORG.[4] Subsequently, space for a makeshift school was found in one of the tenements in Prague 4.[5] In an interview at the end of November 2023, Oksana Breslavska stated that they had 89 school pupils and 28 kindergarten pupils, who were cared for by a team of 22 teachers at that time.[6]
“Guerilla Kindergartens”: A Form of Acute Assistance
Although Lex Ukrajina emphasizes that Ukrainian children have the same right to education at Czech institutions as Czech children, and that their segregation is undesirable, further initiatives were required due to a lack of capacity. Other projects like Dětem Ukrajiny were established that responded to an acute need for help with adapting to the tragic situation and to life in a new country, often with the financial and personal contribution of local communities. After talking to Adéla Vavříková, student of architecture at UMPRUM, who initiated one of these projects, I decided to use the phrase “guerilla kindergartens” in this text.[7] With utmost respect, that is how I refer to the activities related to the unofficial community-led form of preschool education and childcare that did not comply with the formal legal requirements commonly associated with the operation of daycare centers or kindergartens in the Czech Republic.
One such informal daycare center was created at UMPRUM shortly after the start of the Russian invasion on the initiative of three architecture students: Adéla Vavříková, Lujza Lehocká and Matěj Peterka.[8] The wave of Ukrainian refugees arrived at a time when students and teachers had just begun using a new building with technical facilities in Mikulandská street in Prague.[9] With the help of management and staff, the organizers were able to overcome bureaucratic obstacles – such as inadequate space, safety and hygiene conditions – the parents signed a consent form allowing the daycare organizers to take responsibility for their children.[10]
A previously unused smaller space originally intended as a break room for students was adapted for the purposes of the makeshift daycare group. Students of the Architecture I and IV studios divided the space into three functional zones: sleeping and resting (at the back), dining (in the middle) and creative (at the edge, toward the public space). As Adéla Vavříková explains, children enlivened the crude concrete structure and made it appear cozier and more human. In addition to the students’ break room, the daycare also made use of other parts of the “unbreakable and durable” building in Mikulandská street: the community kitchen allowed heating of meals or baking gingerbread; students as well as staff organized activities in the workshops; the courtyard and terrace were used as playgrounds.[11]
The organizers furnished the main space with donated furniture; students then bought a carpet, and dishes and materials for workshops, thanks to a financial contribution from the school.[12] The unofficial group was initially conceived as temporary and its initiators thus put up with the makeshift facilities, acquired great flexibility and dealt with the “guerrilla” conditions.[13] The room intended for childcare and education, as Adéla Vavříková says, does not have to strictly adhere to the prescribed specifics: “It can be rearranged, but it is necessary that it fits into the organism of the school.”[14] The students were able to provide all-day childcare for the entire summer semester, that is, slightly longer than the anticipated 90 days for integration. At the beginning of the next semester, they left the premises and offered the equipment to the Tábor solidarity (The Solidarity Camp) initiative.[15]
Tábor solidarity was initially a similarly motivated project that came about thanks to the cooperation of FAMU students Klára Žantová and Marie Topolová with Hermína Peričová (who later left the team, at around the time Tadeáš Polák joined it). They spontaneously decided to set up a makeshift kindergarten in the premises offered to them by an acquaintance.[16] Originally a temporary “guerrilla action”, it was – analogous to the one at UMPRUM – intended to provide immediate help with childcare to the parents from Ukraine, who were then able to deal with all the errands related to their arrival in the Czech Republic.[17] Eventually, the founders decided to transform the makeshift group operated by volunteers into an official integration group.[18] This process required compliance with various regulations and enabled Tábor solidarity to offer paid employment to Czech and Ukrainian carers.[19] The unofficial daycare center turned into a place where children were educated in various preschool skills and taught Czech language in preparation for a later transition to Czech kindergartens.[20]
In order to improve the conditions for childcare and education, Tábor solidarity relocated twice, first from its original space in Letná to Scouts’ club in Nitranská street in Vinohrady.[21] Although Klára Žantová and Marie Topolová found the new place amazing, due to technical issues, they had to move to a building in Mánesova street and were there able to expand the portfolio of activities offered.[22] Currently, Tábor solidarity serves as a club and community center.[23] Despite ongoing demand, the kindergarten was closed in September 2023 due to lack of funds. Presently, Tábor offers leisure activities, such as the recent day camp in UMPRUM Center for Art and Ecology – Kafkárna, organized in July 2024.[24] As they explained in an interview in April 2023, the founders of the project are convinced that it is time that the state started caring more for Ukrainian children.[25] Considering the long-term nature of the conflict, it should also make use of other forms of support.[26] “I think that the time for such actions comes in moments of chaos. Now official institutions should take matters into their hands and work more on helping families and children from Ukraine,” Marie Topolová said in the interview.[27]
In Plzeň, the largest city with the highest per capita concentration of Ukrainians, accommodation was provided in the residential building of the local University Hospital shortly after the start of the refugee crisis.[28] The ground floor of the building was soon turned into a center for the whole community. In the afternoon, older children used it freely, and in the evenings, almost without exception, it was frequented by women who gathered for shared activities such as exercise.[29] In the mornings, this “club with a program” hosted an informal preschool initiative, as Vlastimila Faiferlíková, the director of the Intergenerational and Volunteer center TOTEM, described it.[30] The organization ensured the support of new residents and the smooth operation of the whole building.
The local unofficial daycare group operated similarly to the “guerilla kindergarten” at UMPRUM – the children’s meals were prepared in a community kitchen, which was also used for family celebrations, festivities, communal cooking or baking, and parents handed over their children to the carers’ responsibility.[31] The TOTEM and volunteers managed to maintain the operation for an exceptionally long time despite being in a grey zone beyond the legal requirements that normally apply to preschool facilities.[32] Perhaps thanks to an unusual level of support by the Plzeň region administration, the center remained in operation until July 2023; in 2024, the group operated under the auspices of the city’s social services.[33] In addition to the daily program, holiday integration groups also took place.[34] There were eight in 2022 and three the following year.[35]
Both the interior and exterior, including an outdoor yard with a playground and a garden, were furnished exceptionally fast, and the place has become a regular venue for the social life of the local community. This transformation was made possible to a large extent thanks to significant donations from Tereza Maxová Foundation and the Czech Medical Chamber.[36]
Lessons from the Alternative
Educational, childcare and integration institutions whose establishment and operation can be described as “guerilla”, “illicit” or “punk”, emerged upon a wave of extraordinary solidarity accompanied by the enormous personal commitment of individuals and communities. Their intention was not only to provide relief to the parents and ease integration for them and their children, but to maintain a continuity of education for Ukrainian refugees. The initiatives described represent only a fraction of many similarly focused projects launched in spring 2022 in the Czech Republic. In most cases, the end of these operations was inevitable. After more than two and a half years since the beginning of the war, the acute need for the assimilation and security of the newcomers is being replaced by calls for systematic, consistent and sustainable measures.
The projects and their background represent important evidence of social events in the history of both countries. Moreover, we can perceive them as autonomous and individual efforts to create educational environments that emerged outside the institutional domain. In terms of the interconnectedness of the educational environment, society and its culture, such examples may be seen as a valuable alternative, one that would not normally be possible due to strict Czech legislation and customs.
As Seymour Bernard Sarason notes, the specific configuration of the education system is only one of many possibilities – however, the fact that we live in the middle of it prevents us from seeing alternatives.[1] “Guerilla” educational initiatives can show us the possibilities. At present, we can examine them from a distance, and thanks to them, we can reevaluate the applicable legislative and normative frameworks that define education in the Czech Republic, including the environment in which it takes place.
Kateřina Klímová
