Although I was not her student, I love the Dašo Pavičić school. All my children went there. It's a magnificent school, truly. It has a spirit of community, enthusiasm, torchbearers and athletes who win, but also rogues and everyone else on an immeasurable scale of human diversity. It has wonderful "Svitanja" where all these diversities are expressed so beautifully. I respect how the School is rapidly changing and striving to become a window rather than a mirror. I love it also because it is located in Predivan, the wonderful place of my youth. But what is Predivan now? Ever since the pedagogue Neđe "gave me the task" to write something about Predivan, I've been trying to decipher that toponym. Somehow it's on the "tip of my tongue"—I've heard about it somewhere, probably it's a Turkicism but, unfortunately, I haven't managed to solve the problem in a short time. It doesn't help much when something is on the tip of your tongue—it simply means you don't really know it. Neither could the old history professor help, and certainly not Google. "It's in old books, something connected to a 'divan'," said the Professor. And I know what a "divan" is—a council. I was at one in Kuwait. You sit down on sofas, cross your legs and divans. You converse in what would today be called a multiconference, but not over the internet but in person. Everything is discussed and decided upon. The past is analyzed and the future is planned. And then there are no mistakes. Nothing should be done without a good "divan". Because a "divan" is wisdom. Measure three times, cut once, our people say. Wonderful, but, God, why do we "divan" so little or backwards? Google only explains the adjective "predivan", nowhere a word about the noun. Nowadays this name is almost never used so people don't know it. However, Predivan is geographically clearly defined: to the east by the Church of Sveti Spas, to the west by the Ljutom stream, now Novljanka, above by the highway, below by the lower road. In the end, as always, the good old Vujaklija helps us, telling us that a "divan" is the Sultan's state council, but also a customs house. Therefore, Predivan would probably have been a pre-customs place, where caravans arrived and prepared for customs inspection.
Before the School was built, Predivan was a meadow—not a flat one, but uneven and sloping. Our first football pitch, which in many ways determined my life. How can a meadow determine someone's life? It can, listen. Numerous and, fortunately, great cultures succeeded one another in Boka and left their deep influence on our ancestors. They taught them "order, work, and honor". "Work and you will have," came again from the republicans from California. "Do not do to others what you would not wish them to do to you," is from Holy Scripture. "You work for the family, and you study for yourself," my father used to say. And in exactly that order—work, then study. Everyone must work and contribute; if you're clever you'll study in parallel, if not, you'll study later in a much harder way, in the school of life itself. The old ones knew how to work but also how to rest. They worked in the cool of night and rested during the day. Siesta. "Work as God commands," my father would say and constantly measured our work. Every morning we'd get a task for that day, and in the evening, depending on what was done, there followed either a reward—"bravo my boys"—or punishment up to kneeling in the corner. If you wanted to be free for an afternoon match you had to complete both "shifts" before and during midday, in the scorching heat, and in the afternoon to run as if that was your only activity that day. These were the living and educational frameworks according to which the "masses" lived and worked. These rules were vitally effective. Effective is everything that results in the desired outcome. In a game there are many shots and passes but only those that end in goals and baskets are effective. We spontaneously achieved effectiveness in work and learning. My younger brother Pavle would read my schoolwork while I dug, and then it would be the other way around. The benefit was twofold, work and learning, but also additional because Pavle was learning material from the next grade, and I was reviewing material from the previous year. Effectiveness in learning resulted in degrees in electrical engineering and medicine in my 22nd and 23rd year of life, later master's degrees, doctorates, professional books, international scholarships, and so forth. Precisely in accord with today's principle of lifelong learning. When I look at the current overall situation, I think that the sooner we return to these principles, the happier we'll live and the easier we'll cope with the renowned global challenges.
Now it's wonderful to write about all this, but imagine, what beauty and pleasure there was in everyday learning, work, tending to the cow...? Still, that was a small suffering compared to having to watch your friends playing football on Predivan while you were digging. It was a form of torture, like showing a diabetic a cake, a frog water. For a while, while you were under the influence of father's authority, you managed to resist temptation, but as authority evaporated and you found increasingly better excuses, in an instant you found yourself in Predivan with the only preoccupation to immediately join the game. But getting into the game wasn't easy. There were many aces there, especially Zoro, well-developed and sturdy, strong and explosive, quick as lightning in his reactions, with the jumping ability of a Vidić—we predicted a representative football career for him, but he made it in water polo instead. Then there was the fearsome Pop, the technician Saško and many others. "Why doesn't this match start?" a referee once asked at an "official" match in Predivan. "It can't start, we're waiting for the fearsome Pop," we said. In five minutes Pop arrives. "Is this the fearsome Pop?" the referee asked, disappointed. "Yes," we said proudly. And the fearsome Pop was a guy, small but strong, with about fifty kilos of trained muscle, the most tireless digger and the best technician on the field. Brave without a flaw or fear, dangerous if you treat him incorrectly. He thus deserved his epithet. Even today, after a hundred years, he still does sports and is one of the best old tennis players in Montenegro. Saško, on the other hand, was a well-raised and well-cared-for Topljanin who didn't run much because he had a shot more precise than Ronaldo and Ibrahimović combined. Passing to Saško was the only tactic of the entire team because when Saško had the ball the probability of a goal grew exponentially.
And so Topla made a team. At the back Miško, Zoro and Brgije, sharp and uncompromising; in midfield the fearsome Pop; up front Saško, Nune or Edo. Soon this team achieved great effectiveness in play and became the law. It deserved many cups and accolades. And many, many years later it took trophies, ashamed of their years, for the days of youth alongside numerous teams made up of high school students and college students. Its only real competition was from the School of Arts and Crafts team. Many played for that team, barefoot and rebellious, more hungry than full, undervalued and rejected by Herceg Novi—Živko, Bena, Zdravko, Varagić, Pičica, Ilija and others, students who "stole oranges," which Novi never forgave them for. Them, on the other hand, retaliated against Novi by entering all world encyclopedias, creating unforgettable works of art, leading prestigious cultural institutions and always emphasizing that they studied in Herceg Novi. One of them devoted an entire series to Novi's originals. And so on that small, uneven and sloping meadow, memorable games happened with, sometimes, more than a thousand spectators and friendships for a lifetime—friendships of which I am very proud even today. With the building of the School in the early seventies of the last century, the whole happening moved to "Duman". But that's already a story for an authentic Novljanin.
During the time of these events we had no equipment whatsoever; I spent my entire childhood playing barefoot. Barefoot doctors were barefoot Chinese physicians, and we were barefoot footballers from Predivan. That's how people remember us even today. There were other wonderful stories too. Football was so scarce that whoever had a ball was a god. Vasko had a ball but played poorly. We want the ball, Vasko wants to play, we don't give it to him because Vasko spoils the game. Vasko won't give the ball. We kick Vasko, Vasko goes home angry and takes the ball. The next day something changes in him and he brings the ball unconditionally. We feel regret again and let Vasko play, so both Vasko and we are happy.
During a time of poverty and hardship and mainly hard work, tending to the cow was a real reward. The cow goes forward, pulling you with a rope, and you sit there blessed reading. Our good Plavulja had two qualities: she loved to explore and she was an extraordinary barometer. Everything was fine while you were with her; she grazed freely and gave three liters of milk. If you tied her up, she'd give half a liter. Then your people would know you'd been in Predivan, and that deserved punishment because sport was seen only as a waste of time and a disturbance of the good old way of upbringing. The exact opposite of today's understanding of sport. If you left the cow untethered, by Murphy's law she'd go right to Dušan's vegetable garden. Dušan would beat her until she bled, bring her home and wail at the top of his voice: "Tie up this cow, I beg you for the love of God". After that there was no explanation that could save your bottom, bare at that, from "whipping" with a thin, flexible rod—a switch. Since you chose the switch yourself, the greatest wisdom was to adjust it so that it would break after two or three stinging blows, but that was quite impossible if the rod was made of mulberry wood. Although the temptations were great, I mostly decided to leave Plavulja untethered. When I'd find her after two hours of play where I'd left her, I'd lead her home embracing her, speaking softly to her and kissing her between the horns. She truly deserved recognition for her understanding.
So, we've written quite a lot, but still we certainly don't know what Predivan is. So the task remains for us to systematically research it together, from now until the end of life. Perhaps someone will do it already for the next "Svitanja" or the School's website. Learning through solving tasks is best remembered because then you both "read and walk". When we research a problem, that knowledge remains inscribed for all time in our long-term memory, from which knowledge is easily drawn. The School should fully embrace this principle of learning because not only is learning best through solving problems, but all modern qualification exams today use this principle.
Some good old principles of life and learning have, unfortunately, been abandoned among us although they represent universal values that are always relevant. We must learn that no work is shameful, that we don't learn in order to live more easily but so that through personal work we contribute to the prosperity of the community. That's how intelligent communities work, and as for how the others work, let's look around us. Therefore, one must connect tradition and innovation and take everything best from the old and new paradigm of learning. I've seen the most subtle integration of old and new knowledge in Japan and that's why that country is very successful in almost all fields.
Milan Obradović, former member of the School Board. Topla, March 2009.
