Stories of students of the 11th grade

Sergey Kazarnovsky

Director of the school "Class-Center"

- Yes, modern communication has changed ... in form! For example, about children. I tell them: “Romain Gary”, and they to me: “Harry Potter”! So what? ! Nothing! I thought when only the Internet began to give us unprecedented access to information, I thought: “Lord! After all, by pressing the button, children can get into any information space! And our 6+, 12+, 18+ on covers and screens do not matter. ” And after all, however, they fall into these spaces. And what? And nothing.

I recently walk along the school corridor in the evening and see: the boy, hiding around the corner, watches how a classmate stands near the mirror and straightens the hairstyle. He passed by, then suddenly turned and took a photo. I admire! I have been watching their love for so many years. Happiness! They are outraged by injustice, support each other. Living! Yes, they smash. Yes, they switch to another language of communication. "How are you with Grisha?" “I transferred him to the Frend Zone.”

So it has always been! I remember how I brought a phrase from the yard, absolutely not understood, but very attractively thieves in the manner, and decided to hit my mother. I asked her in the kitchen when she fried cutlets: "Mom, are you bottle a hairdryer?" What did she answer, without turning: "Are you flying around the garbage dumps?" She worked for a couple of years at a construction site with criminals.

There was such a network. "Court" was called. And the same experiencing texts sounded: "How can we protect children from the yard?" Another thing is there, on the network, its own rules. Recently, one of my teachers, a good man, registered in the VKontakte group with his class, where he is a class teacher. And began to educate them. So the administrator of the group, a student of this class, simply deleted him! The network is other rules. These children graduated from school last year and adore it.

I just arrived from China, where I looked with colleagues performances, including for teenagers. One is about a guy who fell in love with a girl from a computer. Such a special, fake girl. The programmed so that she reacted in his voice to his experiences and talked with him completely adequately (as in the film “She”). The guy was very worried when this “girl”, who entered the “dead end” from the impossibility of meeting her, said that she has many friends with whom she communicates with, and many fell in love with her. Then the guy in despair this computer “love” “banned”, that is, deleted. A full hall of experiencing teenagers. Absolutely truly. At the same time, during the performance, many were sitting with phones, filming and discussing on the network what was happening on stage. And the next day, in the youth theater, a monoscope on the novel by the Frenchaaza Sagan “Hello, sadness”. Also a full hall of young people. Two hours without intermission. How hypnotized. Almost no one got the phone. And delight in the final. When he flew from China, he drew attention to the fact that passengers in computers watch films. Almost everyone reads books in Paper! This network method of communication in a person does not change anything in a person. Nothing. I'm sure.

Now at school I rehearse with 11-graders the graduation performance based on Tuva Janson “Invisible child”-about a girl who disappeared in response to the poisonous moralizing of adults. And I asked them to write their real stories when they wanted to disappear for one reason or another. Here are some of them. I wrote something by ear, they wrote something themselves.

Instead of an epigraph
I'm going in a taxi. I'm trying to contact Skype with my wife: she is in another city. I look: online. But he is silent. I say out loud: “Strange. On the Web, is it silent? Just like a riddle: "On the Web, but is silent!" And then a taxi driver is unexpectedly: "Fish!"

Stories of students of the 11th grade

- When I was little, my grandfather was also young. And each time, meeting with me, he began to portray the controller: he held out his palm and said with a serious look: “Your ticket, please!” I clapped his palm - so we greeted. Many years have passed, he naturally aged and began to hurt a lot. And I always did not have enough time to come once again, call. Once my mother said that I definitely need to visit my grandfather, because then it may be too late. When I entered his room, because of the ajar cabinet door, I saw only my hand hanging out of bed. I slowly went to my grandfather. He lay motionless with his eyes closed. Suddenly he opened one eye and said: "Your ticket, please."

Ksenia D. (on behalf of an 8-year-old girl)

-It was in the 7th grade, we just began friendship between boys and girls. I then talked with Sasha and invited her on Sunday to go to VDNH to ride rollers. We changed clothes and rolled along the alley. I had been rolled up for a long time and did it well. Having drove about fifty meters, I turned around and saw that Sasha was only at the very beginning of the alley ... I quickly returned, made several beautiful turns around her, and we went on. We rode an hour and a half, I was leaving forward, then returned, making different complex elements, in short - I showed off. Sasha looked at me with admiration. In general, it was cool. At some point, Sasha grabbed the pillar so as not to fall, and said that she was tired and wanted ice cream. I showed towards the kiosk where it could be, and he himself gorgeously traveled around the flowerbed with his back. When I stopped, I saw how Sasha walked slowly, or rather, hobbled from a kiosk on the rollers, trying to step so that they did not roll. There were two packs of Eskimo in her hand.

Ilya I.

- It was the class in the second. We agreed to go with Sasha, my classmate, to the cinema. I liked him. Before going out, I climbed into my mother’s cosmetic bag and took the best Dior mascara from there. Then I painted my eyes for a long time in front of the mirror. I also wanted to paint my nails, but I did not find a varnish. The mother of my classmate drove behind me and took me with Sasha to the cinema. With us in the car was Sashina the older sister of Zhenya. When we got out of the car, Aunt Olya, looking at me, began to smile. I also began to smile at her. Sasha, on the contrary, seemed concentrated and did not look at me. The film was somehow called Persia Jackson. It was a children's action with all sorts of vampires and other monsters. During the film there were terrible moments, and I took Sasha by the hand and squeezed it very much, although in fact I was not scared. Sasha, obviously, was not opposed and somehow even straightened up. With the second hand, at this time I rubbed my eyes, as my mother’s mascara began to unpleasantly annoy them.

When the light was lit in the hall, Sasha looked at me very strangely and immediately hurried to his mother, who was waiting for us at the entrance with Zhenya. Seeing me, Zhenya laughed, grabbed the hand, and we ran to the toilet. In the mirror, I was with huge circles of mascara smeared in the face. Eugene helped me wash my face, but I chose a good Dior mascara, which was waterproof and did not wash off. And the tears that I flowed, one might say, with a stream, also did not change anything ... Then everything was like in a movie. Zhenya put on a cloak, I climbed inside, she “imperceptibly” led me out of the toilet and took me home.

Tanya S.

- I have a friend. We live in one area, through two houses. Among other things, we are brought closer to the fact that we are both not “network” people, but he also plays football for some team. And it turned out that we were addicted to collecting puzzles. We often met either at him, then at my place. Believe me, it was really very fun. When I could not find the detail, it meant that I did not see well. And if he could not find, then it meant that the puzzle is defective and there are not enough details. I immediately began to look for her and, of course, found. He praised me and said: "And you are not so hopeless!" And sometimes we were fooling around and collected puzzles how to come across. Like pieces of legs could be on the head, and the trunk on the other side.

Three months ago, he went to the training camp, and then immediately for the competition. He did not like to speak on the phone, so we exchanged emails. He began to answer less and less. And then he was completely silent. I found out when he had to return, as well as from our common friends that his team had won. A month ago, I accidentally met him with friends near my house. They walked and discussed something cheerfully. I stopped. He nodded to me and seemed to not even intend to stop, but still stopped and said: "Now I have no time for you." And he ran to catch up with his friends.

Sasha K.

- If no one has heard my story, this does not mean that I do not have it. Something secret can not be told for various reasons, whether it is distrust, fear or shame. And believe me, Nini (the name of the disappeared girl in a fairy tale), I have these reasons. You know, but I was a little child, just like you. I was not from a rich family, but we lived not poorly, there were always food, clothes and a roof over our heads. I had a mom. Mom was, but dad left before my birth. Mom taught me to relate to this correctly: there is nothing to worry about that he did this, he is also a person and has the right to make his choice. He had this right, and he used it.

My mother loved me very much, she worked a lot to provide me with everyone. She always took me after school herself. Very rarely when the nanny did it. She took me very tired after work, but with a smile on her face. It was the sincere smile that my mother greeted absolutely all people.

Once, when she once again took me from school, I heard two adult women discussed that some underdeveloped kid was studying in elementary school with a crazy single mother who was constantly skyating. My mother heard it. I realized that it hurt her very much, but she did not show her. Then I disappeared, just like you, Nini. After all, why be visible in the world where men leave their unorrosted children, and the aunts discuss what they themselves were lucky enough not to encounter?

Alex L.

- I met a girl. Her name was Sasha. She seemed so unusual to me, not like others. In short, I really liked her. I constantly tried to do something special for her, I wanted to pleasantly surprise her. For example, flowers. Each time I came up with some incredible bouquet. I got tickets for unusual performances, films. What is called "arthouse." It seemed to me that she really liked it. And so I came up with more and more. I fell in love. Once Sasha and I walked late in the park. There was a universal June holiday. We shot fireworks, and we danced to the music of street ensembles. Sasha was very far from returning home, and my parents were in the country. I invited her to go to me. I was sure that she would refuse. But she did not refuse. Everything incredible happened very naturally and simply. I woke up easily and already late. Sasha was not there. She appeared in the doorway of my room in her mother’s robe. In her hand there was bread on which lay a thick piece of sausage. I remember exactly what she said: "Tasty!"

Petya K.

- It happened in the spring. On this day, my best friend was 18 years old. It so coincided that on this day there were the funeral of my grandfather, the father of dad, and I and my parents went to the cemetery. For me, everything went there quite calmly. But I was even afraid to think about what my dad felt at that moment. After the funeral, dad took me to school. There was a final rehearsal of our congratulations to the school graduates on the “Last Baby”. Then, at half past six in the evening, Eve called me, my school friend. She said that it happened, no one came to Gleb, he was alone at home and is very upset. Immediately after the rehearsal, I called dad, then my friends, we stopped after them and went to congratulate Gleb. It was too late, and dad stayed in the car, wait for me. Gleb was happy, he did not expect that we would come. After a couple of hours, maybe more, I don’t remember exactly, we left Gleb, and dad brought everyone home. We arrived home, and I began to tell dad how good that we congratulated Gleb. Dad looked at me and said: “You are my big clever, Gleb was very lucky that you have.” I saw a tear rolled down his cheeks. And then I understood everything. Only at this moment.

Sonya K.

-A few years ago, when I graduated from the 9th grade, we had a solemn evening of issuing certificates during the day. And a concert about the end of the music school. The best Italian shirt, black trousers, perfectly combined with a brilliant belt and varnished shoes, were bought to this event. In general, everything was cool. I was ready. It is also worth saying about my then teacher of the Russian language. It was a woman of old Soviet hardening. She was strict, but fair, did not particularly love humor, jokes, and everything connected with it. So the same day has come. I leisurely, “hands in trousers”, proudly walked along the corridors, flaunting his dietary outfit. I walked among classmates and understood that in the spotlight. Especially our girls. This teacher of mine came up to me, put my hand under my elbow, and we went along the corridor of the 1st floor. So we reached a large mirror at the end of the corridor, where the girls usually spun. The mirror was from the gender itself, and I once again appreciated my cool outfit. And then I noticed that the zipper on my fly was unbuttoned! At the same moment, my teacher quietly went towards the elevator.

Sasha

Under the text

Alexander Asmolov

Head of the Department of Personality of the Faculty of Psychology of Moscow State University named after M.V. Lomonosov:

- And it is in this space, in the workshop of Kazarnovsky, we are faced with an interesting phenomenon, offering children to convey their experience with psychological work with their own injury, faced with unnoticed by adults. From their indifference, they turn into invisibility. These children's stories-spectacles are a unique psychodrama that helps children with different ages get rid of certain injuries.

Sorry for the association, but Freud is resting! Here we have not just psychoanalysis as an important but artificial situation. In the film “The same Munchausen” the phrase that the burgomaster says: “This is not just a fact. This is really. ” Disappearance is not just psychoanalysis, it really is. Here we must very clearly understand: we received a hall of experiencing adolescents with you. For something to disappear, it must be. Here each time we are dealing with the experience of unique individuals. Each time, their flight to invisibility proves that we are dealing with individuals that we often do not notice. Therefore, such sketches are the real psychology of modern adolescents who convey their pain and sadness. They liberate and become visible to themselves and for others.

Recorded by Tatyana Vasilchuk, "New"