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“Not Losing the Ukraine Within”: How Mriya School Helps Children Grow Up Between Two Cultures
For children growing up far from Ukraine, their mother tongue gradually stops being something they can take for granted. It needs a space where it is not only spoken in lessons, but also used for reading, debating, joking, singing, exploring history and learning how to tell others about their country. Without such a living environment, a child’s connection to their culture can weaken far more quickly than many adults realise.
The Ukrainian school Mriya was founded in Switzerland in 2022, at a moment when two parts of the Ukrainian community came together: families who had already been living abroad for some time, and those who were forced to leave Ukraine because of the full-scale war. What began as a desire to create a Ukrainian environment for their own children gradually developed into a school, a cultural space and a community where Ukrainian identity is not simply studied, but lived every day. Today, Mriya’s pupils are the Swiss education system, learn the local languages and deepen their knowledge of Ukrainian language, culture and history at the same time.
UAinfo spoke to Serhiy Kandul, co-founder and board member of Mriya School, about how quickly children can lose — and regain — their mother tongue, why Ukrainian identity does not stand in the way of integration but can actually strengthen it, and what a Ukrainian school in the diaspora should be.
Today, Mriya is much more than a place where children learn Ukrainian. If you had to explain what Mriya is in one sentence, what would you say?
Serhiy Kandul: Mriya is a community of people who want to live, learn and grow within a Ukrainian cultural and educational environment — and who want to nurture, develop and strengthen that environment.
You founded the school in 2022, when thousands of Ukrainian children suddenly found themselves far from home. Do you remember the moment when you realised that, unless something was done immediately, an entire generation of Ukrainian children could lose its connection to Ukraine?
I think all of us remember how we felt in February 2022.
We were Ukrainian families who had already been living in the diaspora for some time. After the initial shock, we began looking for ways to get involved and help Ukraine and Ukrainians. Some people organised logistics for humanitarian aid. Others helped families who had arrived in Switzerland to find accommodation. Some translated documents or accompanied people to local social services.
We, the co-founders of the school, had young children of our own. Even before the full-scale invasion, we wanted them to grow up in a Ukrainian environment. But there were too few of us, and it was difficult to organise lessons or even a Ukrainian-speaking children’s group. Of course, we met for holidays, organised vyshyvanka parades and similar events.
Then, with the arrival of many Ukrainian families — pupils, parents and teachers — our dream of having a school became a reality. Later, when we saw how much comfort and encouragement our work gave to fellow Ukrainians, it also gave us the inner calm and energy we needed to continue.
So, to be honest, we were not “saving a generation of Ukrainians”. In a way, the arrival of our fellow Ukrainians saved and inspired us. A powerful synergy emerged between Ukrainians who were already living in the diaspora and the new wave of migration, and that energy continues to sustain us today.
Older students at the Ukrainian school Mriya during a class. Photo: courtesy of the Ukrainian school Mriya archive.
Many people assume that a child will not forget Ukrainian. But you work with these children every day. In your experience, how quickly can a mother tongue, a culture and a sense of belonging to Ukraine be lost without support?
Language skills can disappear very quickly without support.At the beginning, we welcomed children of primary-school age who, because of the war, had been unable to attend school in Ukraine for several months. Some of them could barely put together a full sentence.
Older pupils can, of course, continue speaking Ukrainian and maintain a certain level for some time on their own. But if they need to write a substantial piece of text or prepare a presentation, many of them quickly feel lost — let alone when it comes to exams such as Ukraine’s National Multi-Subject Test, or NMT. I sometimes hear people say that everything is fine now: many have switched to Ukrainian or are in the process of doing so, and according to some surveys, around 70 to 80 per cent of families use Ukrainian at home. But I am not in a hurry to celebrate those figures. For me, that is a very limited benchmark.
It is one thing to try to say something in Ukrainian. It is another to use idioms naturally in everyday conversation. It is one thing to know that UNR stands for the Ukrainian People’s Republic. It is quite another to track down the descendants of Hetman Skoropadsky in the canton of Zurich and interview them. For me, the real measure is that depth: do we simply know something about Ukrainian culture, or are we genuinely interested in it, do we use it and live it?
And again, this requires cooperation between the school and the family. We can teach children about Christmas customs, learn carols with them and sing them in class. But unless those things are also present at home, everything can quickly fall apart, because another cultural environment will take over the child’s everyday life. That is why I appreciate the approach used by Ukrainian projects such as “Discover Your Country” by the Honchar Museum. Ukrainian culture is not simply presented as something that “exists” or “used to exist”. It is lived and carried into family life. That is what we are trying to do at our school.
How can families find a balance between integration into Swiss society and preserving a Ukrainian identity? Where does that fine line lie?
In reality, child development allows a child to hold several worlds and cultures within themselves. That is why our approach today is “both Swiss and Ukrainian”, rather than “either one or the other”.
“Learn from others, but do not reject your own” — this simple idea from Taras Shevchenko turns out to be supported by modern educational thinking.
Over the four years of our work, many children have learned German very well and are receiving their education here. That does not prevent them from nurturing their mother tongue and culture. The two can coexist — and in fact, they reinforce one another.
For example, a child may learn about nouns in German class and then find the same topic much easier to understand in Ukrainian. They start noticing the differences themselves: in German, all nouns are capitalised, while in Ukrainian only proper names are. They begin to see these connections.
Knowledge of the mother tongue also supports integration. It gives children confidence in Swiss schools. I have noticed that children may initially feel embarrassed about their background. But when classmates ask them questions about Ukraine and they can proudly tell them about the world’s largest cargo aircraft, they begin to feel much more self-assured.
So the relationship works in both directions. Specialists working in the field of Heritage Language and Culture — in our canton, 33 language groups are officially recognised, including Ukrainian — say that strong knowledge of a child’s first language can significantly support their progress in German. By supporting Ukrainian identity, we are also helping children integrate. And the reverse is equally true: children who are well integrated gain the stability and confidence they need to explore their Ukrainian roots more deeply.
A Lesson on Happiness Inspired by Hryhorii Skovoroda at the Mriya Ukrainian School. Photo: courtesy of the Ukrainian school Mriya archive.
Your pupils are of different ages, come from different regions of Ukraine, and some were born in Switzerland. Do they all have the same needs? What has surprised you most in your work with them?
I was surprised by how quickly children absorb the Ukrainian language and culture. At first, I thought that two or three hours a week would not be enough to achieve meaningful results — particularly for children from regions where other languages were more dominant, or for children from multilingual families who had grown up in Switzerland.
But when parents are involved and there is the kind of cooperation I mentioned earlier, children can catch up very quickly. That is good news.
What belongs to us can be lost quickly, but it can also be recovered and rediscovered surprisingly quickly once people understand its value.
Of course, mixed groups with very different levels of knowledge present a teaching challenge. But there are methods that allow teachers to involve all children and to create and develop a genuine interest in learning about Ukrainian language and culture.
Your school follows the HSK programme, which is integrated into the Swiss education system. What does that mean for children and their parents, and why is it important?
Yes, the Heritage Language and Culture programme, or HSK, which I mentioned earlier, is recognised by the cantonal education authority.
It is designed as supplementary education and is organised by the relevant communities — for example, embassies or non-profit organisations such as ours.
At present, 33 language groups are officially recognised in our canton, including Ukrainian. Depending on age, children attend between two and four hours of HSK lessons each week. The rest of the time, they follow the curriculum of their local Swiss school. Our teachers issue one overall grade for the integrated HSK course. In other words, we do not give separate grades for Ukrainian literature or history. That HSK grade is then entered into the child’s Swiss school report alongside their other subjects.
In some cases, it can even improve the pupil’s overall average. So once again, the mother tongue can support integration.
The course also includes a Ukrainian studies component. In the future, this may provide a basis for having pupils’ results recognised in Ukraine.
The Ukrainian Ministry of Education is currently looking for ways to accredit diaspora schools and recognise the Ukrainian studies component that children complete abroad.
After spending several years at Mriya, what kind of person would you like a child to become — not only in terms of knowledge, but as an individual?
Thank you for such a lovely question. Of course, we would like children to complete the full programme with us, from preschool preparation through to the final school years. But most importantly, we want to see a person who draws strength from Ukrainian culture, explores it more deeply and uses it naturally. Someone who tells the world about Ukraine and does good things. Someone who is not afraid to dream and to turn those dreams into reality.
It is clear from the school’s pages that you offer much more than lessons. There are celebrations, a library, excursions, theatre, creative activities, sport, and meetings with writers, musicians and scientists. Why was it important to create an entire ecosystem rather than simply a school?
An ecosystem — or a Ukrainian space — is extremely important in the diaspora. Most of our teaching takes place at weekends, when children are, quite rightly, in a more relaxed mode. So we have to keep combining lessons with clubs, meetings and events. We want children and parents to feel inspired to come to school. We are trying to create a world of positive experiences that responds to their need for a connection with Ukraine.
Younger pupils at Mriya School take part in a creative workshop during a school event. Photo courtesy of Mriya Ukrainian School
Who stands behind Mriya? Tell us about your team. What kind of people are willing to come every Saturday, or after work, and invest so much energy in children?
I should probably give this question to our incredible teachers. Preparing lessons and planning them in a way that allows the curriculum to be covered in such limited time — while still making the classes engaging enough for children to want to come to school on a Saturday — is a real achievement.
I once watched part of a webinar where someone used the phrase “a sense of mission”. I think that describes the people in our Mriya family very well: they are prepared to dedicate themselves to a shared purpose.
You must have stories that stay with you forever. Can you remember a child or a moment that made you think, “This is exactly why we do this work”?
There are more such moments than I could ever count. They are what has sustained us all these years.
So as not to take too much of the reader’s time, I will mention the most recent one. At our end-of-year celebration in July — yes, the school year here continues until mid-July — a girl from the preschool group sang Volodymyr Ivasiuk’s song “Pisnia bude pomizh nas” — “The Song Will Be Among Us”. I am still deeply moved by it. What wonderful families we have at our school.
There have been so many other moments too: pupils winning prizes in the Petro Yatsyk Ukrainian language competition for the diaspora; everyone singing the folk song “Verbova doshchechka” together at the school celebration; small children walking into the school library and choosing their own books to read over the summer. And realising, at the end of the school year, that the children have not simply “switched to Ukrainian”, but have genuinely improved their language skills, that brings enormous satisfaction.
Parents entrust you with what is most precious to them — their children. Which words or responses from parents have meant the most to you?
Without our parents, none of this would exist. I understand that very clearly. You can find a building, build a team and even secure a grant. But if parents are not actively involved, everything loses its impact. These parents and families are an enormous treasure for us.
I want to say to them: dear parents, thank you. You are incredible. What makes me happiest is discovering that families have taken at least a small part of what we do at school into their own homes — that they use it in family life, live our traditions and continue speaking Ukrainian. When someone sends us a video of children playing a traditional game in the playground that they first learned at school, it is a huge source of inspiration for me.
The school is a non-profit organisation. Most people only see the beautiful photographs from celebrations and events. What remains behind the scenes? What difficulties do you face in your day-to-day work?
There are difficulties, of course. Over the years, we have had to move several times. On one occasion, we were given only a few weeks to find new premises. That was extremely stressful. At the moment, we rent rooms in a local private school. There are enough classrooms and they are well equipped. But our storage space is located elsewhere, so we have to transport all the teaching materials back and forth every time. There are financial difficulties too.
Social services often do not consider our lessons to be directly connected to integration. Educational authorities may view the matter differently from the institutions responsible for funding. When parents are refused financial support and cannot afford the school fees themselves, it creates serious challenges. And, of course, working on Saturdays is demanding. Most of us have families and full-time jobs outside the school. Some people travel from other cantons. Balancing all of these commitments can be very difficult.
Students and teachers from Mriya school during a group outing in Switzerland. Photo: courtesy of the Ukrainian school Mriya archive.
You have been working for more than four years. How have Ukrainian children in Switzerland changed during that time? Are they different now?
They have become more confident and better integrated. Some have begun vocational training in Switzerland, while others have entered university. Some are studying online in Ukraine after taking the NMT here — the exam can also be taken in Switzerland. Of course, some children and young people are still searching for their path. For example, finding an apprenticeship can be difficult. But the sense of safety, the support provided by Switzerland and their education in local schools have undoubtedly helped them.
Most importantly, they have not simply maintained their connection with Ukraine — in many cases, they have strengthened it. Many pupils and former pupils are involved in Ukrainian scouting organisations. Some raise funds for Ukraine through school projects. Others take part in Ukrainian fairs or simply talk about Ukraine at school. I believe the idea of remaining Ukrainian while living in the diaspora works very well. But it needs to be supported and developed further.
If a Ukrainian mother came to you tomorrow and said she was unsure whether to enrol her child in a Ukrainian school, what would you say to her?
Do not hesitate. Sign your child up for a trial lesson with us straight away. After the trial lesson, simply ask the child whether they would like to continue studying here. It is that simple. We accept pupils throughout the year, so the right decision can be made at any time.
Many years from now, when today’s pupils are adults, how would you like them to remember Mriya School?
As a place that gave them strength.
And one final question. If, twenty years from now, one of your former pupils said, “Thanks to Mriya School, I did not lose the Ukraine within me,” would that be the greatest recognition of your work?
Absolutely. That is exactly the kind of response we are working towards. And if the sentence also included a few Ukrainian idioms, was written with flawless spelling and contained a quotation from one of our literary classics, we would be even happier. Then we would know for certain that our work had not been in vain.
The story of Mriya shows that preserving a Ukrainian identity abroad does not happen by itself.
It depends on the weekly work of teachers, on parents choosing to speak Ukrainian with their children, and on books, songs, traditions and shared memories gradually becoming part of a child’s life.
At the same time, this is not a story about choosing between Ukraine and Switzerland.
It is about being able to belong to both cultures, to feel secure in a new country and still have a place of strength of one’s own — a space to return to in order to understand more clearly who you are.
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