People don’t remember everything that happened—not everything. And not everything that people do remember—or think they remember—can be dressed up as literature for all to read. And memoirs are doubly selective because we aren’t always capable of recalling the past and because today not everything we do recall seems relevant enough.

Obviously the Medem Sanatorium existed before Hitler, before the khurbn of the Jews of eastern Europe, before the total extinction of a generation that had dreamed a dream of the most just of all worlds. What happens to dreams when their dreamers are exterminated? Are they inherited by the next generation? And who are the heirs who will inherit these dreams? So many questions stand in our way and prevent us from creating a smooth historical chronology.

A child that stayed in the Medem Sanatorium for a month or more—that child earned the title of “child of the Medem Sanatorium.” The child was then deemed a graduate of a strange school which was half fantasy, half reality. In the Medem Sanatorium, where prophylactic medicine protected Jewish working-class children from tuberculosis, the collective dream of the Bund was interwoven with the individual dreams of the sanatorium’s idealistic doctors and teachers. And from this union a distinct belief was born: If the will is strong, the world can, indeed, become a beautiful place.

*

No one remembers how it began, but the nurses at the sanatorium were all called lererin ^{7 7} In English, “teacher”; di lererin (f), der lerer (m), di lerers (pl). —“Lererin Bernstein,” ^{8 8} Riva Bernshtein was the first nurse to begin working in the sanatorium in 1926. See Y. Sh. Herts, “Rive Bernshteyn,” in Doyres bundistn, ed. Y. Sh. Herts, 3 vols. (Farlag undzer tsayt, 1968) 3:395–96. “Lererin Dantsis.” The emphasis was not on being ill, but on learning. So even Lererin Vitchik, ^{9 9} Polye Vitshik was a committed and admired teacher in the Warsaw shules and worked in the Medem Sanatorium from 1926 to 1937. When confined to the Warsaw ghetto, she ran a soup kitchen. Together with her parents, she was caught and murdered during a German action. See Lerer yisker-bukh: Di umgekumene lerer fun CYSHO shulin in poyln, ed. H. Sh. Kazhdan (Komitet tsu fareybikn dem ondank fun di umgekumene lerer fun di tsisho shuln in poyln, 1952–1954), 146–47, https://archive.org/details/nybc218937/page/146/mode/2up. who planned the meals, would simultaneously introduce new words into the sanatorium vocabulary: vitamins, tomatoes, spinach, cauliflower, night snacks. She insisted that everyone be able to identify the food they were eating.

*

How tall is Lerer Traupianski? ^{10 10} Yankl Traupianski (1909–1944) was a musician and the composer of the music for the Bund youth anthem, “Mir kumen on.” See: L. Y. B., “Yankl Trupyanski,” in Doyres bundistn, 3:470–71. The children believe he is the tallest of them all. His black forelock hovers over their heads, and shining down on them from his dark face are a pair of smiling black eyes and two rows of sparkling white teeth. He starts to laugh, and his laughter sounds like an invitation to clown around—to play tag or catch, or to swing with one or two hands from the branch of a pine tree. Sometimes Lerer Traupianski begins walking with quick steps, and the children start to run after him; suddenly he stops short and the children tumble over each other and become a laughing, squealing chorus.

Traupianski is often seen holding his concertina. Sometimes during meals it lies near him on the dining room table, a sign that soon there will be singing. Traupianski always has a pennywhistle in his pocket; the children call it “do” because after each toot, the teacher would sing “do-do-do.”

Traupianski is from Vilna, a graduate of the Vilna Teachers Seminary. He’s a Bundist and a member of the young generation that lived in Poland between the world wars. He took his first steps as an educator at the Medem Sanatorium, but his pedagogical path was already set: a singing teacher. But what a singing teacher! He’s a composer, a musician through and through. The children had even heard that Lerer Traupianski had “composed an opera.” They often sang selections of M. Weinreich’s purim-shpil, Mekhires-Yoysef, ^{11 11} Prof. Max Weinreich (1894–1969) was a linguist and historian and one of the founders of YIVO. There are no references to Weinreich ever having written a purim shpil. However, in 1923 he did publish a literary/modern retelling of Mekhires-Yosef. In 1928 YIVO devoted an evening to ethnography during which scenes from a purim shpil Mekhires-Yoysef were performed. It is possible that, writing thirty years later, Shoshke may have conflated the texts referenced that evening. For the Weinreich text, see https://archive.org/details/mekhiresyosef00wein/page/n2/mode/1up; for a description and photograph of the 1928 purim shpil at YIVO, see https://encyclopedia.yivo.org/media/1018.  for which Traupianski had written the music and which the Vilna Teachers Seminar had staged so successfully. They sensed the artist in him and clung to him. Mani Leib had written a short winter story in verse that was taught in the Yiddish shules. ^{12 12} Mani Leib (1883–1953) was a poet. But you had to hear Traupianski when he sang for the children “The frost paints flowers and leaves on the windowpanes” to understand how music creates magical words.

Traupianski used to play a game with the children based on the “greens” found in nature. The virtue of this game was that it could be played for weeks on end. Several children (there was no limit on the number) would agree among themselves to have something green with them at all times: a leaf, a blade of grass, a stem, a green apple, a green grape—whatever, as long as it was green. Boys kept their green in their pockets; girls pinned theirs to their dresses or, if they wore braids, wove them into their hair. Actually everyone was always surrounded by green. But some didn’t always remember to have it with them, and they were eliminated from the game. So it wasn’t so difficult to lose. But the most difficult task was to catch Lerer Traupianski without any green because he always went around with a leaf or a blade of grass in his mouth. Once a few children decided to wait for him by the gate of the sanatorium when he was all dressed up and supposed to be returning from a trip to Warsaw. Surely he would have forgotten about the green. But Traupianski spotted the group at the gate, took a high leap into the nearest pine tree, and bit off some pine needles. When he reached the gate, the children shouted, “Green!” and Lerer Traupianski opened his mouth to show a mouthful of green pine needles. But one little boy asked, “Why did Lerer jump into the tree?” “Because I didn’t have anything green,” Traupianski replied. And so the children won.

*

Today there is a great commotion at the sanatorium. Sholem Asch is here on a visit. ^{13 13} Sholem Asch (1880–1957) was a novelist. Sholem Asch! No minor matter! He is accompanied by a group of writers and journalists from the Warsaw literary union. ^{14 14} The Warsaw literary union was the Association of Jewish Writers and Journalists in Warsaw and existed from 1916 to 1939 (Yid., Fareyn fun Yidishe Literatn un Zhurnalistn in Varshe; Pol., Związek Literatów i Dziennikarzy Żydowskich w Warszawie). “In 1926, Jewish journalists established an autonomous section of the association, recognized by the authorities as the Jewish section of the Polish Journalists Syndicate. In the following year [1927], thanks to the organization’s efforts, Yiddish was accepted as a member language within the international writers’ association PEN with branches in Warsaw, Vilna, and New York. Arn Zeitlin served as chair of the Yiddish PEN club and Sholem Asch was its honorary president.” Nathan Cohen, “Association of Jewish Writers and Journalists in Warsaw,” in the YIVO Encyclopedia of Jews in Eastern Europe, accessed April 10, 2026, https://encyclopedia.yivo.org/article/274. The children form a big circle and place all the writers in the middle. There is great joy. One child greets the writers but addresses Sholem Asch separately as “the representative of all Yiddish literature.” Asch, a giant in a black cape, examines everyone and everything. He says something, but so softly that his words can barely be heard. Later Asch wrote admiringly in the guest book, “For the boys and girls who are building the Medem Sanatorium.” Whom did Sholem Asch have in mind? The children? Di lerers? The question remained.

*

Moyshe Nadir has come to spend a day in the Medem Sanatorium. ^{15 15} Moishe Nadir (1885–1943) was a poet. A child approaches and orders him to say, “Give me!” Moyshe Nadir says, “Give me!” So the child gives his hand a slap and says, “Here!” ^{16 16} The child in this scene is playing with the poet’s last name, which in Yiddish can be translated as “Here [take it].” Moyshe Nadir stands with his hand outstretched and says, “Look how he’s captured my style. I’m jealous of my own self!”

*

When Moyshe Nadir sat with the children at a dining room table during dinner, he was very impressed with the way Lerer Shloyme Gilinski presided over the meal. ^{17 17} Shloyme Gilinski (1888–1961) was director of the Medem Sanatorium from 1926 to 1939 and described the sanatorium in his pamphlet Vi azoy lebt dos kind in medem-sanatorye (How a child lives in the Medem Sanatorium; Warsaw, 1932). See https://congressforjewishculture.org/people/5912/. Between one course and the next, Lerer Gilinski gave one of his famous talks to the children. The issue was a thorny one: “Who will take on the responsibility for the unpleasant chores? At the children’s general assembly, we vote for a chair and secretary. But we have to nominate ourselves for the other chores. That work has to be voluntary. For some positions, there are always many candidates—for example, for the librarian, or for the one responsible for folding the covers for the lounge chairs on the porch, or for the one distributing thermometers and recording temperatures. But no one raises their hand to say, ‘I want to be in charge of the bedpans.’ We have small children in the sanatorium and we need bedpans for them. Who will take care of them? It’s not a pleasant position, but someone has to do it. We do not force a chore on anyone. So we are left with only one choice: The most intelligent children, who understand how important this chore is for us, must volunteer and offer to do this most difficult and unpleasant work.” Moyshe Nadir wrote in his small notebook, “Chamber pots—a very intellectual chore.”

*

On a wall in the clubroom hung a very large drawing: a tree with many branches and with writing on its trunk and on each branch. This was the symbol of the real democratic republic—the Children’s Steering Committee. The highest authority was the Children’s General Assembly. This very tree was part of Shloyme Gilinski’s dream. He always claimed, “The children will teach us how to build a just world.”

*

Today is Erev Yom Kippur. Lerer Gilinski has come from Warsaw and will stay overnight. Tomorrow, the secretariat of the Medem Sanatorium in Warsaw will be closed so der lerer will spend the day at the sanatorium. For dinner the cooks serve Warsaw-style carp (peppered and sweetened) with noodles and covered with fish broth. The dining hall is not as bright as usual at dinner time. Not all the lamps have been lit. Lerer Gilinski speaks to the children about how Yom Kipper is observed in different homes; one child reads a Yom Kippur story by Yehoash. ^{18 18} Yehoash is the pen name of Solomon Blumgarten (1871–1927), a poet and translator into Yiddish of numerous literary texts, the most famous being his translation of the Tanakh.  The dining room is very quiet. The atmosphere is half solemn, half fearful. But it would be unseemly to admit to being upset. It’s just inappropriate. The next morning the older students complain to Lerer Gilinski: “The sanatorium is a secular institution, so why frighten the little ones?” In truth, the little ones were quick to begin joking around right after dinner, as if nothing had happened. It was actually the older, “secular” children who felt upset. Lerer Gilinski answered them this way: “In order to be able to say no, one has to have a good understanding of the yes.” The discussions around religion, secularism, upbringing, adults, and children had to be cut off when the group was halfway to the Międzeszyn train station. The older children had been allowed to accompany der lerer only halfway for fear they would become overtired if they went any further.

*

In 1926 the Medem Sanatorium still had no electricity. The dining room was lit by hanging lamps. In the bedrooms the children undressed by candlelight. The lit candles had to be guarded and watched closely; both Medem Sanatorium buildings were made of wood. One had to prepare for bed, undress, pull on nightclothes, and climb quickly under the comforter. Then di lerers would go from room to room collecting the candles, making sure the windows were open for the night, and wishing everyone good night. Two or three children slept in one room. The little ones fell asleep immediately; the older ones a little later. They carried on whispered conversations until they grew tired and reluctantly fell fast asleep. Once, in one of the bedrooms where none of the little ones slept, a couple of the older ones hatched a slightly not-so-kosher plot: to read a book before going to sleep. The sanatorium library happened to have Romain Rolland’s Jean Christophe, ^{19 19} Roman Rolland’s French classic Jean Christophe would have been read by the children in Yiddish translation. just one copy for many readers. In the sanitorium, nothing was ever locked up. So during the day, the older children simply took a candleholder, a candle, and matches from one of the open rooms. At night, after the teachers had told everyone good night, the children lit the candle again, placed it on the floor so nobody outside could see the light through the window, and they read. The true flavor of reading Jean Christophe was especially relished when the readers were lying on their stomachs, hanging half out of their beds, and holding the book low enough so the light of the candle fell directly on the line they were reading. All in all, the delight continued for several nights. Then Lerer Gilinski gave another of his talks to the children. He began talking casually about younger children and older children—that older children must set an example for the younger ones. They have to show the younger children what it means to be a responsible “sanatoriumist.” For example, an older child must explain to the smaller ones why the teachers themselves have to go around every night putting out the candles in each room and why putting out lights is not one of the positions designated for children. That ended the nighttime readings.

*

Flowers bloomed in the sanatorium. Since it stood in a dry pine forest which had only a few wildflowers, they planted a flower garden in the sanatorium. It grew nasturtiums, pansies, dahlias, asters—all in a variety of colors. No one enjoyed the garden more than Lerer Gilinski. Whenever he popped in for a day to the sanatorium, he was as eager to know how the flowers were doing as how the children were doing. One morning, when Lerer Gilinksi had stayed at the sanatorium overnight, a small boy knocked on his room and with a trembling voice announced, “Lerer Gilinski, all the flowers are torn up! Not even one is left.” It wasn’t long before Lerer Gilinski appeared on the veranda, his hair disheveled and without his glasses (he was very nearsighted). But before he could ask anything, the smiling little clown confessed, “I was joking! I didn’t mean it.” Der lerer burst out laughing and tousled the little brat’s hair and said, “Of course it’s a joke. Who would want the sanatorium to be without flowers?”

Sh. Gilinski’s focus on flowers was only the beginning. Later, Lerer Biber, ^{20 20} Dr. Israel Biber (1898–ca. 1943) was director of Vilna’s Teachers Seminary and was remembered for his commitment to incorporating the natural sciences into Yiddish school curricula. For eight years he was associated with the Medem Sanatorium. Biber would spend summers and his vacations at the sanatorium, where he organized and led science classes and laboratories—famously the most popular among the children. In 1937, he published the illustrated Friling in vald (Spring in the forest), a children’s introduction to the natural sciences. In his foreword, Biber wrote, “The Medem Sanatorium has dedicated time and effort to bring the child closer to nature.” The book addresses former child members of the sanatorium as well as those who had not had the privilege and includes stories about the children’s activities and illustrations of animals and birds and even maps of the constellations. Biber was murdered in Estonia, where Jews were sent during the Vilna ghetto’s liquidation. See: https://www.yiddishbookcenter.org/collections/yiddish-books/spb-nybc201220/biber-israel-friling-in-vald. Extended descriptions and recollections of Biber’s activities are included in CYSHO’s yizker-bukh, with entries by (among others) Regina Weinreich and Sh. Gilinski. See the Lerer yisker-bukh, 146–47. the biologist, came to work at the Medem Sanatorium and introduced extraordinary things: a dovecote for pigeons, cages with rabbits and hens, even an incubator for breeding chickens. Can anyone imagine a happier boy than the one in charge of pigeons? Being able to identify birds by their tweets was equally important to the child-scientists and the child-poets. They chased a bird which chirped “zee-zee-bay.” In fact, they actually named it “Zeezeebay.” Lerer Gilinski was always delighted by this. His comrades used to say, “This is how Shloyme Gilinski’s smuggled in territorialism from the ZZ party into the Bund.” ^{21 21} “ZZ” (or “SS”) was an acronym from the Russian title of the Zionist Socialist Workers’ Party, which Gilinski joined as a young man in the early 1900s. Party members were territorialists who believed in establishing a Jewish state, but not in Palestine. People joked that Gilinski had injected the idea of territorialism (via the bird’s name) into Bund ideology. The Medem Sanatorium was his “territory.”

Shloyme Gilinski was famous for being an extraordinary, talented teacher. Legends circulated about the time he taught mathematics and cultural history in the folkshules. His former pupils used to describe his lessons as fantastic journeys to distant lands. Lerer Gilinski tested his pedagogical theories in the Medem Sanatorium. But at the same time, he also identified with the children born into Jewish poverty who yearned for beauty.

There were some who complained about Shloyme Gilinski:

The Medem Sanatorium is an unreal world; it is too different from the children’s homes. The sanatorium alienates the children from their homes. Children return to the city and begin examining their homes from top to bottom. They no longer like the food. They demand new things: toothbrushes, separate towels, more frequent baths. Some parents can adjust—others can’t. Why create conflicts within the home? After all, the Medem Sanatorium is only temporary—the home is permanent.

Shloyme Gilinski replied:

Nothing is too good for our children. There will be no conflicts within the home. In fact, together with the children, we want to bring new things into their homes. The parents who send us their children trust us, and they like what the children bring back home from the Medem Sanatorium. The children are but the first swallows who are the harbingers of spring. Together with them we will make their lives at home more beautiful.

Because the sanatorium was so bright and beautiful, because its educational level was so high, it also became famous outside of the proletariat class. Requests began to come from the Jewish intelligentsia: actors, journalists, and professionals. They would plead, “Take our children into the Medem Sanatorium for a little while.” Sometimes the sanatorium gave in, which led to a new complaint:

The Medem Sanatorium was established for children whose parents can’t afford to send them to a private sanatorium, who can’t send their children anywhere because they have no money. Why take in children who can, in fact, go somewhere else?

Shloyme Gilinski replied: “The complaint is, in essence, correct. But we observed that if we accept a few children to the sanatorium who pay the full price and whose parents belong to the socialist intelligentsia, we gain something too. The children from diverse homes learn from each other and broaden their horizons. They tell each other about their parents, what they themselves do in school, how they spend their time outside of school. We’ve already had some experience with this. The friendships between children of different backgrounds also continue back in the city. The children and the parents get together. This is a great pedagogical victory; this is a great socialist victory. A proletarian institution has begun to teach a people how to live.”

*

To describe the end of this story we must first create a new language.