The brown brick facade of the building stood out in stark contrast to the blanket of snow lying at its feet. Two imposing trees stood like sentries guarding either side of the wide staircase leading to the main door, a double row of windows stood observing the comings and goings.
It was exactly 3 o’clock in the classrooms of Bojaxhiu Primary School in North Kosovo. In one classroom, a Serbian classroom, a flag hung above the chalkboard above a translation of the Cyrillic to Latin alphabet accompanied by a projector screen and a chart about electrical charges. A wall of maps flanked the left side of the door while student work and a poster about pollution protected the right side under the watchful eyes of a photograph of a Serbian leader. On a lower floor, in an Albanian classroom, the walls were bare except for the chalkboard and the outwear of the children hanging like colorful decoration along the back wall.
Back in the Serbian classroom, a man in his late 30s wearing an ill - fitted suit was lecturing students on the Albanian Invasion under the Ottoman Empire.
"In 1998 Serbia, under the leadership of Slobodan Milosevic, finally liberated herself from the great Albanian threat, which began when?"
One hand shot into the air. With no change of affectation or interest, the teacher replies, "Marko?"
"Can I go to the bathroom," asks Marko.
The teacher nods in response then returns to his lecture as Marko grabs his blue backpack and heads out the door.
At the same time, in the Albanian classroom, a teacher of similar age in a sweater in slacks, was teaching his students about the same invasion.
"And in 1999, the Kosovo Liberation Army, with the aid of Great Britain, the United States, and many Western allies, finally defended herself against centuries of Serbia's brutal oppression."
As the teacher ends his lecture, a beaming Iittle girl throws her hand into the air.
Toni fidgets with the papers on her desk. "Can I go to the bathroom?"
Her teacher just blinks in response.
Toni- Blerta rushes through a door to find Marko waiting for her in the stairwell. As her footsteps come thudding up the stairs, Marko unzips his backpack. He was clearly annoyed that he had to wait.
“What took you so long,” he askes Toni- Blerta glancing at her through the banister of the stairs.
She stops two steps from the top of the stairs, eye level to Marko.
“The teacher wouldn’t let me go to the restroom,” she replies looking up at him through her thick lensed glasses. “Do you have it?”
The boy reaches into his backpack and holds up a DVD case. He looks down his narrow nose at her through the bars supporting the stair railing.
“We only have an hour before my mom comes home,” Marko replies rising quickly and walking down the stairs to meet the girl. Just then, the door on the second floor landing bangs open. Out storms Marko’s teacher. He had grown suspicious of Marko's extended absence and decided to investigate.
“Marko! Stop!” he yells thudding down the stairs and placing himself between the children. “Back to your cage, Albanian rat,” he snarls at Toni- Blerta as he stares admonishingly at Marko. Toni-Blerta rushes away, hair and coat trailing out behind her as the teacher grabs Marko by the arm and hauls him up the stairs toward their classroom.
