"Most of the teachers at the Faculty of Philosophy did not pass the vetting process, of course, and to this day I still remember that the school year did not actually begin until November because it was necessary to fill the gap left by those who had been dismissed. Or rather - and we didn't find this out until much later - a number of those teachers were working on what we call a conditional basis. It was only later that one realised that the situation was not at all easy for them, and to this day I still remember that the relationship between those teachers and us was a bit distant. They didn't know exactly who they could trust. And it was reflected, for example, in such irony that even in my third year I had a thesis that was supervised professionally, but I didn't have the so-called permission to do it. So the official supervisor of my thesis was the author of the history textbook, but I only saw him during my exam."
"It was a bit ironic, because in 1970, they started to screen even us who were accepted to the university, and the irony of fate was that my mother - being of German nationality - was never approached by a political party or organization. Apparently she was - and this was automatic - a member of the ROH, I think we all were. I had one advantage, I had the plus sign that my mother had not been expelled from the Communist Party after the background checks. Of course they couldn't, if she wasn't... And my peers, who grew up in a very conscious way, were not so lucky. I, of course, had no problems - in terms of language - with German. Unfortunately, the head of the admissions committee didn't like my background. But that was the origin of almost all of us who eventually got into the aforementioned German-History course. It was because foreign languages were taught in a relatively simple method and at that university knowledge was already assumed. So, for example, my peers who applied for English or French did so mostly because their parents worked in foreign trade or diplomatic services, and therefore had that assumption. So-called smart kids who had no exposure to foreign countries had a more difficult time with the process."
"That was a little bit reflected in the fact that I had a peculiar childhood. I also didn't have many friends and that was because my mother and grandmother were worried about me and wouldn't let me go out. They were justified in their fear, but I can say with a clear conscience that my classmates behaved towards me - both in primary school and then, of course, in grammar school, which was at an advanced age - so they were very polite. I practically never met anyone who blamed me for my origins, or rather for the fact, which was not usual at that time, that I didn't actually know my father. I even have one humorous story: because I was a good student, a friend came to tutor me in Czech. And because my grandmother and my mother were a bit afraid that someone would come to us, the door was always locked and the friend, when he came to us, had to learn one German sentence. He had to knock on the door and say, 'Guten Tag, ist Alex zu Hause?' Then my grandmother would open the door and we would study, and then I would go play soccer with some of the boys or we would run around the park."
Alexander Schreier was born on 11 July 1952 in Vrchlabí. His mother Berta Schreier and grandmother Marie Schreier belonged to the local German nationality. After the war they were supposed to be deported, but for health reasons they were allowed to stay. The house U sedmi štítů (At Seven Peaks), where the Schreiers lived for generations, is one of the oldest in the town, with records dating back to the 16th century. The house, including all its furnishings, was confiscated after the war and the family shared the post-war fate of the Germans from the borderlands. Alexander spoke German with his grandmother from childhood, his mother spoke both languages and integrated into Czech society without any problems. After ten years they were allowed to buy their house from the state. They lived very modestly: grandmother received a minimal pension, mother worked in various administrative jobs, Alexander successfully studied at the local high school. After graduating from high school, he was admitted to the Faculty of Arts at Charles University in Prague, majoring in German - history, but he did not become a teacher. He spent his entire working life in interpreting, guiding and translating. He is an honorary member of the Marktoberdorf - Hohenelbe Compatriot Association, participates in discussions with compatriots and strives for greater understanding and reconciliation on both sides. He helped to create and place a memorial plaque to the victims of the war in Dolní Lánov, where he lives, and is also a member of the Society of Czech-German Understanding. He believes that for the younger generation, today‘s relations between Czechs and Germans are no longer burdened by mutual historical disputes, but that they see the Sudetenland as a common European region.
Class photo from the Secondary General Education School, 2nd year (Alexander is standing on the right, classmate Hana Špičková Juptnerová is sitting fourth from the right), Vrchlabí, 1969
Class photo from the Secondary General Education School, 2nd year (Alexander is standing on the right, classmate Hana Špičková Juptnerová is sitting fourth from the right), Vrchlabí, 1969
Long-distance march over the mountain ridges of Czechoslovakia for the ski team of Charles University, 535km (first from the left), Slovakia, February 1977
Long-distance march over the mountain ridges of Czechoslovakia for the ski team of Charles University, 535km (first from the left), Slovakia, February 1977
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!
