On the Wings of Hope : Prose

“It’s not the main thing, Alexander, not that”, - he used to tell me. “I am compelled to give people smart charts and tables, which have been thought up for them very long ago. Yes, I can present it in a fascinating and interesting manner - but this itself won’t teach pupils the art of thinking. Long-dead schemes, some scientific approaches - what’s in it for them? To make true men from them - that’s my goal, Alexander, people accustomed to thinking without prejudices and without prejudices approaching all phenomena of life, so that they don’t say “it’s impossible” - but tried, worked and achieved result instead - including these areas that have been inaccessible to their forces yesterday. I desire to teach them how to love work, seeing in it a constant renewing source for themselves and the mean to open new horizons - for only free from prejudices people who love their work are able to study all horizons of the world opened before them. Do you understand what I am talking about?”

To be honest, I could truly understand little from what he was speaking, but continued to listen with interest. All in all, my friend was a curios and interesting person - knew a lot himself and could teach much (no, not that academic sort of wisdom, but that of true life!). He was attentive and kind … he was simply wise.

I listened, and he continued speaking.

“There is nothing impossible by its nature - simply something not yet implemented - that’s what their motto should be! How hard it is, Alexander, to combine the teaching of such world-outlook and pollute their heads with limited conceptions, imposed by this or that scientific approach, at the same time! After all, it’s necessary to teach them thinking and studying independently, only that way both interest and hobby will join themselves - and love to work will become a pledge of free and bright creativity! We have to alter educational system in that direction - but combined efforts of great number of people are necessary for that. And while there is nothing like that is present and the position of a teacher - great role and responsibility! - is reduced to that of a slave - what terrible phenomena starts happening, Alexander!

I didn’t work at that school on a permanent basis like many other teachers, but could notice a lot of things. Third-graders, Alexander, third-graders! - I saw that “younger generation” for the first time then. There was no sign of teacher’s accompanying children to a locker room - they were rushing through corridors themselves. On the way of procession along the corridor guys clapped girls from their class on asses, having speaking appropriate words - other children nearby were simply laughing. Girls perceived this as a due attitude … even as sort of attention from man’s party - and smiled. Some guy knocked off a senior girl - right there hurriedly jumped over her, and, having sworn, rushed further.

Then I saw several of these children on a street - a company consisting of five or six of them have gathered around some little senior boy. They were periodically spitting out on a floor and shouted something to the clamped guy. I didn’t hear exact words - was simply looking at first. Then the blocked guy started, apparently, begging them of something, and they began smiling - then suddenly one of them quickly spitted out on the ground and kicked the fellow in a stomach. I stood idle no longer - ran up and scattered these attackers. As I can remember, that boy that have kicked a fellow even tried to resist and wanted to hit me - I simply accurately threw him aside - then all of them started running away. From a rattling and bent from a pain guy I have learned that he has borrowed some money from them, five hundred rubles as it seemed - for his mother to buy medicines. But couldn’t pay his debt at the time, even though two weeks have already passed. That day I guided a boy to his home - he lived nearby. I secured that day for him … but who, who can secure all other days of his life from such ones as these guys, who, Alexander?

And the next day I have become a witness of even more intriguing scene. Decided to stay at another’s lesson - mathematics, it seems. The picture still stays before my eyes: very young and crying girl teacher, and her class, mischievously hooting over her …

They put a rat in her desk. It was this time - and before that there were chairs, smeared by paints, class journal, cut into pieces, even nails on a chair …

I learned this from her the day when I had to interfere and force to stop this “lesson” of mockery (children rejoiced that they could go back home much earlier!) and consoled this girl, who have recently graduated from a pedagogical higher education institution and got her first job …