Pocket in the pocket of the dress

I'm twenty -three. The eldest of my students is sixteen. I'm afraid of him. I'm afraid of them all.

Svetlana Komarova has been living in Moscow for many years. Successful business coach, head forkhunter, career consultant. And in the 90s, she worked for eight years as a school teacher in deaf Far Eastern villages.

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Far East. Every fall of unearthly beauty. Golden taiga with dense green spots of cedar and fir trees, black wild grapes, fiery bushes of lemongrass, the delightful smells of the autumn forest and mushrooms. Mushrooms grow with clearings, like cabbage in the garden, you run out for half an hour for a fence of a military unit, return with a basket of mushrooms. In the suburbs, nature is feminine, and here - embodied brutality. The difference is huge and inexplicable.

Everything that flies bites on the far. The smallest creatures climb under the watch bracelet and bit so that the bite is swollen for several days. “God's ladybug, flying on an irrevocable,” is not a Far Eastern story. At the end of August, cozy, spotted cows gather in flocks like mosquitoes, attack apartments, sit on people and also bite. This muck can neither be slammed, nor shake off, the cow will release a smelly yellow liquid that is not washed away by anything. I fell out of love with God's cows in the eighty -eighth.

Secondary School in the USSR Photo: Mamontov Sergey/Photokhronika TASS

All the nipples hibernate at the end of September, and until the second week of October, heaven on Earth comes. A cloudless life in the literal and figurative sense. In the Far East, there is always the sun - showers and snowstorms with episodes, there is never a Moscow multi -day hmari. The constant sun and three weeks of the September-October paradise irrevocably and firmly tied to the far.

In early October, we celebrate the teacher's Day on the lakes. I go there for the first time. Thin isthmates of the sand between transparent lakes, young birch trees, clear sky, black sleepers and rails of abandoned narrow gauge rods. Gold, blue, metal. Silence, calm, warm sun, peace.

- What happened before? Where does the narrow gauge come from?

- These are old sandy careers. There were camps here - gold, blue and metal immediately change in the mood. I walk through the sandy isthmus between the reflections of birch and a clear sky in pure water. Camps in the middle of birch groves. Pacifying landscapes from the windows of prison barracks. The prisoners left the camps and remained in the same village where their guards lived. The descendants of those and others live on some streets. Their grandchildren study at one school. Now I understand the reason for the irreconcilable hostility between some local families.

The prisoners left the camps and remained in the same village where their guards lived. The descendants of those and others live on some streets

In the same October, I was persuaded for a year to take a class leadership in the eighth grade. Twenty -five years ago, children studied ten years. After the eighth of the schools, those who did not make sense to learn further left. This class consisted of them almost entirely. Two -thirds of the students at best will fall into the vocational school. At the worst - immediately for dirty work and in evening schools. My class is complicated, children are uncontrollable, in September the next class teacher abandoned them. The director says that maybe I will be able to agree with them. Only one year. If I will not leave them in a year, next September they will give me first grade.

I'm twenty -three. The eldest of my students, Ivan, is sixteen. Two years in the sixth grade, in the future - the second year in the eighth. When I first enters their class, he meets me with a look from the Sunday. The far corner of the class, the back of the desk, the broad -shouldered large -headed guy in dirty clothes with knocked hands and icy eyes. I'm afraid of him.

I'm afraid of them all. They fear Ivan. Last year, he beat a classmate who had exhausted his mother into the blood. They are rude, rude, embittered, they are not interested in lessons. They gobbled up four class teachers, they wanted to spit on records in diaries and calls parents to school. In half the class, parents do not dry out of moonshine. “Never raise your voice to the children. If you are sure that they obey you, they will be sure to obey, ”I hold on to the words of the old teacher and enter the class as a cage with tigers, afraid to doubt that they will obey. My tigers are rude and bothering. Ivan silently sits on the back desk, dropping his eyes into the table. If he doesn't like something, a heavy wolf look stops a careless classmate.

The district was injected to increase the educational component of the work. Parents are no longer responsible for raising children, this is the duty of the class teacher. We must regularly attend families for educational purposes. I have an abyss of reasons for visits to their parents - half of the class can not be left for the second year, but for life training. I'm going to preach the importance of education. In the first family I stumble upon bewilderment. For what? In the timber industry farm, hard workers are received more than teachers. I look at the pepper face of the father of the family, rolled wallpaper and I do not know what to say. Services about the high with crystal ringing are scattered into dust. Indeed, why? They live as they are used to living. They do not need another life.

Half of the class can be left not in the second year, but for life training

The houses of my students are scattered twelve kilometers. There is no public transport. I drag on families. No one is happy with visits - a teacher in the house to complaints and flogging. In order to talk about good, they don’t go home. I go to one house after another. The rotten floor. Drunk father. Drunk mother. The son is a shame that the mother is drunk. Dirty musty rooms. Unwashed dishes. It is embarrassed to my students, they would like me to not see their lives. I would also like not to see them. I am covered by longing and hopelessness. Fifty years later, the great -grandchildren of former prisoners and their guards will forget the cause of genetic hatred, but they will still properly propping falling fences with blinds and live in dirty, wretched houses. No one to break out of here, even if they want. And they do not want. The circle closed.

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Ivan looks at me from underneath. Around him on the bed among dirty blankets and pillows, brothers and sisters are sitting. There is no bedding and, judging by the blankets, has never been. Children hold on to the sidelines from their parents and cling to Ivan. Six. Ivan the Elder. I can’t tell his parents anything good - he has continuous deuces, he never to catch up with the school curriculum. Call it to the board to no avail - it will come out and will be painfully silent, looking at the socks of the old boots. The Englishwoman hates him. Why say something? It makes no sense. As soon as I tell you how Ivan everything is bad, Muzzle will begin. Father is drunk and aggressive. I say that Ivan is well and tries very much. All the same, nothing can be changed, even if at least this sixteen -year -old gloomy Viking with light curls will not beat me with me. Mother flashes with joy:
“He's good for me. No one believes, but he is kind. He know how he looks at the brothers-sisters! He is both households and to go to the taiga ... Everyone is saying-he is studying badly, and when to study? You sit down, sit down, I’m pouring you with tea, ”she looks like a dark rag from a stool and rushes to put a dirty kettle on the fire.

Can this embittered silent degrease be kind? I refer to the fact that it is evening, say goodbye and go out into the street. Twelve kilometers to my house. The beginning of winter. It gets dark early, you need to reach the dark.

Secondary school in the USSR photo: Tolochko Alexander/Photokhronika TASS; Sverdlov Leonid/TASS photo chronic

- Svetlana Yuryevna, Svetlana Yuryevna, wait! - Vanka runs after me along the street. -How are you alone? It gets dark! Far! - Mother of God, spoke. I don’t remember when I heard his voice last time.

- Van, go home, I will catch a passing.

- And if you don't catch? Who will offend? - “offends” and the Far East incompatible. Here everyone helps everyone. They can kill in a household quarrel. To offend a fellow traveler selected in the winter - no. They will be taken in safety, even if not on the way. Vanka walks next to me six kilometers until the way happens. We speak all the way. Without it, it would be scary - snow along the road is marked with animal traces. I am scared with him no less - in front of my eyes are the muddy eyes of his father. Ivan's icy eyes did not become warmer. I say, because with the sounds of my own voice, it’s not so scary for me to go next to him at twilight in the taiga.

“Offends” the Far East incompatible. They can kill in a household quarrel. Offend a fellow traveler selected in winter - no

The next morning in the geography lesson, someone snaps into my remark.

“Hold your tongue,” a quiet, calm voice from the back desk. We all, having shut up in surprise, turn towards Ivan. He looks around with a cold, gloomy look of everyone and speaks to the side, looking into my eyes. - Hold your tongue, I said you are talking to the teacher. Who does not understand, I will explain in the yard. ”

I no longer have discipline problems. Silent Ivan is an indisputable authority in the class. After conflicts and bilateral ordeals, my students and I somehow unexpectedly managed to build a relationship. The main thing is to be honest and respect them. It is easier for me than other teachers: I lead their geography. On the one hand, no one needs an object, knowledge of geography does not check the district, on the other hand, there is no neglect of knowledge. They may not know where China is located, but this does not prevent them from recognizing a new one. And I no longer call Ivan to the board. He makes tasks in writing. I carefully do not see how the notes with the answers are given to him.

Twice a week before the start of the lessons, political information. They do not distinguish the Indians from the Indians and Vorkut from Voronezh. From hopelessness, I spit on the forefront and the party’s policy and retelling articles from the magazine “Around the World” twice a week in the morning. We are discussing futuristic forecasts and the possibility of the existence of a snowy man, I tell that the Russians and Slavs are not the same thing that the writing was before Cyril and Methodius. And about the West. The West is called the central part of the Soviet Union. This country is still. It also coexists in space programs and fences, supported by crooked logs. The country will not be soon. There will be no forestry and work. The houses will remain, poverty and hopelessness will come to the village. But so far we do not know that it will be so.

I know that they will never break out of here, and lying on them that if they want, they will change their lives. Can I go to the west? Can. If you really want to. Yes, they will not succeed, but it is impossible to come to terms with the fact that the birth in a wrong place, in a wrong family, blocked my open, responsive, abandoned students all the roads. For life. Without the slightest chance, to change something. Therefore, I am inspired by him, that the main thing is to want to change.

I am inspired by him that the main thing is to want to change

In the spring, they are stuffing to visit me: "You were at all at home, but you don’t call to yourself, dishonest." The first, two hours before the appointed time, Leshka comes, the fruit of the vast love of her mother with an unknown father. Lesha has a thin thoroughbred eastern face with high cheekbones and large dark eyes. Leshka is not on the time. I make meringues. The son walks around the apartment with a vacuum cleaner. Leshka confuses underfoot and pestering questions:

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- What is this?

- Mixer.

- For what?

- Beat the squirrel.

- Pampering, you can knock down a fork. Why did you buy a vacuum cleaner?

- Hold the floor.

“An empty waste, and a broom is possible,” he pokes his finger at the hair dryer. - And why?

- Leshka, this is a hairdryer! Dry hair!

The stunned Leshka chokes in indignation:

-Why dry them?! Are they themselves, they themselves will not dry?!

- Leshka! And make a hairstyle?! To make it beautiful!

- This is pampering, Svetlana Yuryevna! You infuriate with fat, spend money! Crystyalnikov, over - they were overwhelmed by a full balcony! Transfer the powder!

In the house of Lesha, as in the house of Ivan, there are no duvetiles. Pampering is bedding. And my mother needs to buy a mixer, her hands get tired.

Ivan will not come. They will regret that Ivan did not come, will break the home cake without it and grab meringue for him. Then they will find another thousand and one more attracted by the ears, so that once again they fall to visit, some of them, who are a company. Everything except Ivan. He will not come. They will without my requests to go to the kindergarten for my son, and I will be calm - while the village punks are with him, nothing will happen, they are the best protection for him. Neither before nor after I saw such a degree of devotion and reciprocity from the students. Sometimes a son leads Ivan from a kindergarten. They have silent mutual sympathy.

On the nose are final exams, I go with a tail for an Englishwoman - I persuade not to leave Ivan for the second year. A protracted conflict and mutual passionate hatred do not leave Vanka a chance to get out of school. Elena Kolets Vanka with drinking parents and brothers-sisters abandoned at living parents. Ivan fiercely hates her, Hamit. I persuaded all subjects not to leave Vanka for the second year. Elena is non-bendable, she is infuriated by a wolf-out-over-the-excuse, from which she smells of a musty apartment. It is also impossible to persuade Vanka to apologize to Elena:

- I will not apologize to this bitch! Let her not say about my parents, I will not answer her then!

“Van, you can’t talk about the teacher like that,” Ivan silently raises her heavy eyes, I shut up and again go to persuade Elena:

- Elena Sergeevna, of course, you need to leave him in the second year, but he still will not learn English, and you will have to endure it for another year. He will sit with those who are three years younger, and will be even angrier.

Secondary School in the USSR photo: Denisov Roman/Photokhronika TASS

The prospect of endure Vanka for another year is a decisive factor, Elena accuses me of making a cheap authority among students and agrees to draw Vanka an annual three.
We take them exams in the Russian language. The entire class was given the same handles. After the essays are handed over, we check work with two handles in our hands. One with blue paste, the other with red. In order for the essay to pull the three, you need to correct the damn cloud of errors, after which you can take red paste. One of the guys managed to drag the feathered pen into the exam. The exam was not passed - we could not find the same color in the village of ink. I am glad that this is not Ivan.

They are announced by the results of the exam. They are proud. Everyone said that we would not surrender Russian, but we handed over! You passed. Well done! I believe in you. I fulfilled my promise - withstood the year. In September, they will give me first grade. Those of mine who came to study at the ninth will give me all their bouquets during the line.

“I will not apologize to this bitch! Let her not say about my parents! "

The beginning of the nineties. First of September. I live in the wrong country in which I was born. My country is no more.

- Svetlana Yuryevna, hello! - A well -groomed young man nales me. - Did you recognize me?

I am feverishly sorting out in my memory whose father it is, but I can’t remember his child:

“Of course I found out,” maybe in the course of the conversation, the memory will let go.

- And here I brought the sister. Remember, when you came to us, did she sit with me on the bed?

- Vanka! It's you?!

- I, Svetlana Yuryevna! You did not recognize me - in the voice of resentment and reproach. Wolf-cut, how to recognize you? You are completely different.

- I graduated from the technical school, I work in Khabarovsk, I smoke the apartment. As I buy, I will take all my own.

He entered the nineties as a hot knife in the oil - he had a great practice of survival and a difficult cold look. After a couple of years, he will really buy a large apartment, marry, take the sisters and brothers and break off relations with his parents. Leshka sniffs and perish by the beginning of the two thousandth. Several people will finish institutes. Someone will move to Moscow.

When they wanted to live like me, I lived in one of the three houses of the murdered military town

- You have changed our lives.

- How?

“You told a lot of things.” You had beautiful dresses. The girls always waited for what dress you would come in. We wanted to live like you.

Like me. When they wanted to live like me, I lived in one of the three houses of the murdered military town next to the village of Lespromkhoz. I had a mixer, a hairdryer, a vacuum cleaner, bedding and magazines “Around the World”. I sewed beautiful dresses in the evenings on a typewriter donated to my grandmothers at the wedding.

A key to tightly closed doors may be a hair dryer and beautiful dresses. If you really want to.