“Now the confused school principals were attempting to reach a consensus on whether they should let their students go to the demonstration or not. In the end they allowed them to go. I don’t know if the students ended up not returning to school or what. Our school was the only exception and stayed behind. The students were in the large stairway of the school building and sang the national anthem. Our principal sent a colleague and a student. The student, who saw the full square and that all the other schools are represented, returned to school and shouted into the singing crowd: ’We’re cowards, let’s all go!’ At that moment it was like an avalanche. Everyone went outside. Our principal’s argument was safety of the students in case something was to happen. Now the kids were rushing through an intersection. A hilarious scenario developed in the square, our colleague got up to speak and said that our school could not be there and our kids who were running in the street screaming: ‘We’re here!’ What a scene… “Did you go there with them?
“Yes, we all went.”
“It’s a paradox but when someone asks me what the most memorable event in my life was I don’t answer the birth of my children, or my wedding or graduation, but it’s the Monday following Jan Palach’s death. He died on Sunday the 19th of January and the funeral march through Prague took place the next day. At first the march was not permitted, then it got permission and in the end it was again without a permit. Students from different faculties met on top of Wenceslas Square at the National Museum and marched to Na příkopě Street. The square was jam-packed with people. It was so quiet you could hear birds - since it was in January, the few brave birds - sing in the trees.
“This one time I played a recording from Werich and Horníček. It was a short comedy skit that was played at Osvobozené divadlo and recorded in the 1950s. Some of the ideas were bold and I played a skit that went along these lines: I’m a (class) hero cow, I ran with my last liter of milk to the JZD (collectivized agricultural coop) so that evil kulak (large landowner) wouldn’t milk me to death. And other provocations such as this. The son of a local chief physician approached me and said how dare I play this to youths and that he knows what the truth is – ”
“One of your students?”
“Yes.”
“ – because his father told him so. I replied that ‘his father is right and that I think that since this skit was recorded, there is not much – ’ and the skit was recorded officially and you can’t make records in your garage ‘– wrong with it.’ We sat down and talked about it. Well, the following day I was walking down the hallway in school and I saw two gentlemen in long leather coats. I became faint because I recalled the conversation from the previous day. These men really were from the StB (State Security) from another town and they came to ask me about a former student of mine. They wanted to employ her but they needed to know her cadre evaluation (political alignment record).
Jana Rinkeová, née Machová, was born on July 24, 1946 in Tábor. Her father worked as a train dispatcher and eventually became a unit supervisor at the Czechoslovak National Railways. He never joined the communist party. Her mother was originally a teacher and became a homemaker in order to take care of three children. Jana Rinkeová was the eldest sibling. After graduating from a gymnasium in Tábor, she enrolled at the Faculty of Arts, Charles University (FFUK). She majored in Czech and Russian. As a lover of performing arts who was opposed to communism she enjoyed the 1960s immensely. She attended theater performances and experienced Majáles (annual student celebration), Allen Ginsberg’s visit to FFUK as well as early (student) protests.
She remembers Jan Palach from school seminars and was touched deeply by his death in January, 1969. Her partaking in the funeral march was her most memorable life event. In 1969 she graduated and started teaching at a gymnasium in Tábor. During the normalization period she did her best to teach her students outside of the official party line. She held meetings at her home with students where they discussed literature and politics. She welcomed the 1989 revolution with profound joy. She taught at the school until retirement in 2003. In 1971 she married Otto Rinke. They have two children Kateřina (1972) and Ondřej (1974) and four grandchildren.
Hrdinové 20. století odcházejí. Nesmíme zapomenout. Dokumentujeme a vyprávíme jejich příběhy. Záleží vám na odkazu minulých generací, na občanských postojích, demokracii a vzdělávání? Pomozte nám!
