I told my Holocaust survivor dad’s story at the school which barred him

In March 1938, following the Anschluss, my late father Harry Bibring BEM was expelled from Amerling Gymnasium in Vienna. As a Jewish boy, he was no longer permitted to attend a grammar school. Being Jewish had suddenly become a disqualifying “crime” in Nazi-controlled Austria.

He and his sister were barred from the school they had worked so hard to get into. Their leisure activities – skating, cinema, parks – were also stripped away. It was part of a calculated effort to relegate Jews to second-class citizens.

Transferred to a much less prestigious school, my father faced open hostility. Teachers and students alike shunned the Jewish newcomers. Despite these challenges, he adapted to this new, grim reality in Vienna – until escaping to the UK in March 1939 on the Kindertransport.

Fast forward to 1995: Angelika Fritsche, a teacher at Amerling Gymnasium, invited my dad back to speak about his experiences. My daughter Nikki and I joined my mum to watch him share his story with a captivated group of students. It was deeply moving.

Last year, I had the privilege of returning to Amerling Gymnasium myself, invited to share my father’s story with today’s students. Speaking at schools in the UK on behalf of the Holocaust Educational Trust is always powerful – but doing so in the very school my father was expelled from, standing where he once stood, was indescribable. This year, I was honoured to be invited back.

I stayed near Westbahnhof Station – the same place from where my father began his escape eighty-six years ago. I walked to the school, past his old apartment and the Stolpersteine laid outside. The quiet streets were a stark contrast to the terror of Kristallnacht – no broken glass, no flames, no SS guards forcing Jews to scrub pavements.

The students I spoke to were extraordinary – informed, empathetic, and deeply engaged. Their questions reflected not only historical knowledge but a commitment to tackling prejudice today. One student, visibly concerned about the growing strength of the far-right in Austria, told me she and her friends had voted for the first time in the recent elections and were determined to fight extremism.

We discussed what they might have done had they been students back then. While hindsight is easy, their passion for democracy and diversity gave me hope. Several spoke about their sense of duty to combat antisemitism and how easy it is to be a bystander – and how dangerous it can be to remain silent.

Delivering my father’s testimony in his former school, to such a thoughtful group, was incredibly moving. Their reaction reminded me how crucial education is in the fight against prejudice – something my father believed passionately. His legacy is being honoured by these young people who want to build a better, more tolerant future.

Harry Bibring (left) and his son Michael, who continues to share his father's story (Photo: Michael Bibring)[Missing Credit]

So, with a profound sense of pride and reflection, I made my way back to my hotel near Westbahnhof Station. Retracing his steps through the city brought history into sharp focus, turning familiar streets into powerful reminders of his resilience and the life he left behind.

I then visited the site of the synagogue on Schmalzhofgasse, which my father had seen burning to the ground during Kristallnacht. Afterwards, I visited 103 Mariahilferstrasse to clean the Stolpersteine (memorial stones inscribed with a name of a victim of the Nazis). As I did, I remembered those Jews forced to scrub pavements under SS orders. I did it as a free man – with pride. In the old Jewish quarter, I saw not only traces of destruction but signs of renewal, resilience and community.

That evening, I attended a Vivaldi concert at the Karlskirche – a reminder of Vienna’s cultural richness. It is hard to comprehend how such a city fell so far under Hitler’s regime. But it did.

Prejudice, when unchecked, can destroy even the most civilised societies.

That is why speaking to these students meant so much. Their compassion and resolve left me feeling hopeful. I am incredibly grateful to Amerling Gymnasium for giving me the chance to return and share my father’s story. I hope to come back many more times.