Slavik.

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... Once at the dawn of her pedagogical practice I found a smoking boy. He was from the "my" class and I considered it necessary to warn the parents of Slavik (that was the name of the boy), so I wrote in the student’s diary red paste:

Dear parents!

Your son was discovered in a school toilet. Take preventive measures!

Late in the evening at home, I drank tea at home and suddenly heard a noise in the corridor. The door swung open wide and Slavik flew into it, which was literally an angry mother’s next scruff of him.

- He - smoked? - my mother asked me, like an employee of the Gestapo, and flashed me with a look.

“Yes. I considered it necessary to inform you ...” I mumbled, suddenly frightened something.

- Here .., look. I punished him. - She raised the head of a curly boy for Lochma,- now ... he will not smoke anymore!

It was terrible! Boys Boys Furious Mutter burned with cigarettes to the blood - the lips were in round black dots, with red bruises along the edges.

It was a lesson for me. Nickly I didn’t write such messages in the diary. NO - kog - yes!



The Slavik is still beaten and tugged with his mother’s might. So he hasn’t quit.

When I meet him, for some reason I always look at his lips. It seems ... but by the way, it only seems to me.