Interesting stories from the school life of V. Suslov. As I gave my word and slap.
V. Suslov
HOW I GOT THE WORD
An honest story from a friend of mine
I must say right away that I am an honest person. If I give you my word, I will do it no matter what. I will not spare any effort. By any and all means.
Otherwise, how does it sometimes turn out ... Do you know, for example, the saying “give your word - keep it”? Well, so ... Some cunning people read it in their own way: I, they say, gave you my word, you keep it. Hold on, while I run. I, they say, now, without this word, it is easier to jump on the ground.
No, I'm not like that. If I gave someone a word, I myself keep it.
And I want the same attitude towards myself.
Again, I will explain with an example from my own personal life.
I needed a bike. Just badly needed! Due to the fact that Slavka Burdykin has it, but I don't. They already bought it for him, but I haven't yet. It is a blatant injustice. And no equality.
- All right, - said dad, - you will have a bicycle. If you bring ten A's in math in your diary, we'll go to Sporting Goods.
See what the conditions are? Almost completely impossible.
But I gave my word that there would be ten fives.
And if I gave my word, it means - complete order! I will do it no matter what. By any and all means.
Of course, ten fives in mathematics is not an easy task. You understand. But our teacher Viktor Nikolayevich says that there are no unsolvable problems. I gave my word...
So... I'm sitting, which means I'm in a mathematics lesson and looking for a means of solving this problem.
Then I sit in a history class and invent different ways. To solve the same problem.
Then I sit in a singing lesson ...
And then a brilliant idea came to me!
So brilliant that he even sang with joy!
Ten fives? Nonsense! One, two, and you're done. Correctly someone noticed that everything ingenious is simple. Quite simply! In the language of folklore, it is simpler than a steamed turnip.
Thinking about the idea of ten fives, analyzing all kinds of ways, I drew attention to my neighbor Seryoga Teterkin. And I discovered that we have a lot in common with him: neither I nor Seryoga have a bicycle. Our difference was that in mathematics Seryoga is an excellent student, and I am quite the opposite ...
During the break, I told him:
- Do you want to ride a bike?
- I want, - says Seryoga. - Where is the bike?
“It will,” I say.
And then I explain the conditions. Seryoga lets me write off all the tasks during the quarter. Does my homework for me. Solves examples on control. prompts during oral polls. Thus, together we earn a bicycle. After that, Seryoga gets the right to ride a bike. As much as you like! In turn. The circle is me, the circle is he.
Sergei thought. He ran his fingers through the hair and turned on his decisive device under it.
At first, Seregino's decisive device could not be solved in any way and demanded guarantees.
- Aren't you going to cheat? Seryoga asked.
I gave my word.
And if I gave my word! ..
Moreover, I have already given two words: one - to dad (about ten fives), the other - to Seryoga (about the bicycle).
Seregino's decisive device decided to accept the offer.
I got the first five for my homework.
At that time, Viktor Nikolayevich gave us each a personal task. From some textbook for teachers.
Seryoga decided his and mine.
Then he managed to solve two options at once on the control: his own and mine.
Then, when Slavka Burdykin got confused at the blackboard with the solution, Seryoga wrote this solution on a piece of paper, I raised my hand - and the third five flew into my diary like a bullet.
The remaining fives were obtained in a similar way.
True, not in a row.
When Seryoga caught a sore throat, I grabbed a deuce.
But about the deuces, my dad and I had no agreement.
By the end of the quarter I had eleven fives.
And we went to the "Sports Goods".
Because dad's word is also strong.
I honestly brought home ten fives. He honestly bought me a bike.
Just as honestly, I brought him behind the wheel to Seryoga and said:
- Sit down!
Seryoga sat down and drove off. From our yard to the second, then to the third, then again to the second - and straight to me.
“Your turn,” he says.
But I didn't go.
Rather, I tried - and did not go.
Just broke his knee.
- You don't know how to ride? Seryoga was surprised.
“Yeah,” I said. - Get in my line.
Seryoga sat down and drove off.
What was left for me to do? I gave my word! And if I gave my word! ..
Seryoga was even tired of riding. Out of habit.
I broke my other knee.
“Teach me,” I asked Seryoga.
And what do you think? The guy said there was no such deal.
And left again. On my bike. Then he came back and said: — Okay. I will teach. As soon as you yourself get the first five in mathematics, immediately
And even gave his word.
Y-yes... You can, of course, try... Only... It wouldn't turn out to be some trick...
Maybe he invented something too...
Like me...
V. Suslov
SPOCK
A sixth grader stepped on an eighth grader's foot.
By chance.
In the dining room for pies without a queue climbed - and stepped on.
And got a slap.
The sixth grader jumped back to a safe distance and expressed himself:
The sixth grader got upset. And I forgot about the pies. Walked out of the dining room.
I met a fifth grader in the hallway. I gave him a cuff on the back of the head - it became easier. Because if they gave you a slap on the back of the head, and you can’t give it to anyone, then it’s very insulting.
- Strong, huh? the fifth grader scowled. And in the other direction along the corridor stomped.
I passed by a ninth grader. Past the seventh grader proceeded. I met a boy from the fourth grade.
And gave him a slap. For the same reason. Further, as you can already guess, according to the ancient proverb “there is power - you don’t need mind”, a third-grader received a slap on the back of the head. And he also did not keep it with him - he weighed the second grader.
And why does a second grader need a slap on the back of the head? To nothing at all. He sniffed and ran to look for the first grader. Who else? Do not give cuffs to the elders!
I feel sorry for the first grader. He has a hopeless situation: do not run away from school to Kindergarten fight!
The first grader became thoughtful from the slap on the back of the head.
His father met him at home.
Asks:
- Well, what did our first grader get today?
- Yes, - he answers, - he got a slap on the back of the head. And they didn't mark it.
school movie showIt happened when I was working as an English teacher at school. The school was with enhanced language learning and the high school program included watching films in English, and for this a small hall with chairs in the form of an amphitheater was equipped, where at the very top there was a rather old film projector. Film screenings were shown during the day and during the after-school for those who were unable to watch the film due to other classes or for the lagging behind students who needed to practice more often than usual.At that time, I had only recently graduated from a pedagogical school, I was 23 years old, and my personal life, to put it mildly, was going badly. Although my classmates considered me quite attractive, there were four of them on the course, and they were fond of my more accessible girlfriends. I certainly had sexual experience, I was walking with one guy at school, then there were also various connections, but either the partners I came across were worthless (usually, after all, everything took place at parties, when men are already quite drunk and they want sex more than they can). In general, over the past three months I have not had a man and the case somehow did not present itself.
BUT female sexuality I needed a way out, but I was not 16 years old, but 23.
And I began to notice myself strange features. For some reason, I began to like short miniskirts, tight dresses, blouses and low-cut tops. The looks that men threw at me in the subway or bus did not annoy me at all, but, on the contrary, excited me, what embarrassed me most of all was that my students also began to pay attention to me: they would look into the cutout, then crawl under desk to look at my legs. And I was ashamed, but it excited me every day more and more.
I even began to unbutton one more button on my blouse and sometimes not wear a bra.
On the day when the session so memorable for me took place, I was dressed like this: in a white blouse, slightly unbuttoned due to the May heat, a skirt that emphasized my rather wide hips, I didn’t have a bra and stockings on.
There were not many people, most of them sat in the front rows, and only two notorious truants from the ninth "B" settled down in the gallery in my row away from the exit. The movie started, I watched it a hundred times and plunged into my dreams of a handsome prince, although only a recent lesson came to mind, when the answering student, at the moment when I bent over the desk, rather brazenly looked into my blouse neckline, and it seemed to me that he managed to see my chest almost entirely. This memory made me blush, but I did not see him in the dark hall, just as I did not see that my chest began to harden from indiscreet thoughts.
And then I heard someone whisper in my left ear:
Alisa Konstantinovna, can I go to the toilet? - it was one of the losers, to whom I blocked the path to the aisle.
Yes, of course, - I answered and felt how he began to squeeze between me and the seat. I was sure that there was enough space, but he slightly pressed his hips against my ass, and then put his hand on my thigh.
Oh, sorry, - he muttered and quickly left the audience.
Five minutes later he was already returning and this time pressed himself closer and put his hands on both hips.
Sorry, I almost fell, - he said without a hint of regret, and I felt him lightly squeeze my hips. While I was thinking what to say to the impudent man, he had already taken his place.
A strange feeling took possession of me: I knew that I was obliged to repulse the young insolent, but on the other hand, from these touches, some kind of languor seized my body, yearned for caress.
Can I? - I heard another whisper, and without waiting for my answer, I felt the touch of my hands on my hips.
Are you uncomfortable? - whispered even quieter.
No, no, everything is fine, come in, - I also whispered for some reason.
And then I was strongly pressed against a table with a movie projector, the teenager's hands remained on my hips, and I felt that something other than someone else's hips was pressing against my buttocks.
What are you doing? I exclaim in surprise.
I wanted to see how the projector works ... Yes, and you said that everything is fine, - the guy said without a shadow of justification and, removing one hand from his hip, extended it to the device:
What is this button? - the bend of his elbow pressed against my chest, and with his pelvis he pressed against my ass so much that even through his skirt and his trousers I felt his tense penis.
This ... this button shows how much film is left in the projector, green - there is, red - it is already running out ...
And how much is left?
About 25 minutes, I answered and felt how he began to shake his hips and his palm squeezed my chest.
Then we'll have enough ... - I could guess his grin, but I could not help myself. My chest tightened under his fingers. My body responded treacherously to his thrusts.
No... Please, no, - I whispered and felt that I could no longer resist my desires.
The teenager's hand penetrated my skirt and began to caress my bare leg, and the second hand had already unbuttoned the blouse and was stroking with might and main the elastic breasts and hardened nipples.
I tried to think that I was doing something wrong. I even tried to escape, but what could I do? Why not turn on the light so that everyone present finds us in this position? And I decided that all this should pass as quickly and imperceptibly as possible. And, of course, for me to enjoy. I haven't received it in such a long time. J
Then I felt that my skirt was pulled up. It was narrow and it took some time. But he coped with the panties quickly, especially since I helped him. My blouse was already unbuttoned by that time and my hard breasts almost glowed in the dark.
Do you like? - said the guy and put his hand between my legs. God, it was already wet in there. I closed my eyes and bit my lip to keep from moaning.
Oh, yes, you’re all flowing, Alisa Konstantinovna, - the student said grinning and stuck his finger into my vagina.
Mmmm ... - I was only able to mumble, and began to massage my breasts with my hands.
Alisa Konstantinovna, do you want me to stick my dick in you?
I blushed because I realized that I want this, that just his finger is not enough for me, that I want to be fucked like this in the classroom in front of almost everyone. In the end, I wanted to reach an orgasm!!!
I didn't hear the answer? - the guy said mockingly in my ear, his hands tormented my breasts, and the head of the penis rested on my labia.
Well? he asked me again.
Yes ... - I whispered.
Fully... speak fully, he mocked me.
I wanted it so much that I didn't care what to say, I wanted to feel the cock in me, I wanted to achieve an orgasm, and everything that I had already done would hardly have aggravated my guilt. And I answered:
Yes… I want to be fucked, I want you to impale me with your dick…
Yes, you are a whore, Alisa Konstantinovna, - he laughed softly and at once thrust his penis into me to its full length. It wasn't that big, but I didn't need any longer. I needed him to keep moving. And he tried his best, his piston entered my crack harder and harder, and his hands crushed my chest, squeezing the nipples. I even started waving my ass and moaning, as I only needed a few moments to achieve pleasure.
And then the moment caught up with me, and I, arching like a cat, finished. And the lustful teenager, having settled down to my ass, continued to bore my juiced vagina. And then a hot jet of sperm hit the inner wall of my vagina, and my body again began to shudder in orgasm.
Exhausted, I lay on the desk with my blouse unbuttoned and my skirt pulled up, shamelessly spreading my legs. The puffing boy left his post and then I heard another voice:
Well, bitch, ready to take another one? - and another member stuck into me. This one was bigger and longer and belonged to a friend of the first rapist. In the passion that overwhelmed me, I completely forgot that there was another student sitting in this row. He was already inflamed by the scene flaring up before his eyes and rammed me without any foreplay.
I look at you one dick is not enough, - he hissed, and my pussy after the first act took his thick penis without much difficulty.
I even felt the pleasure that I could serve several men like this. A new orgasm began to take over me.
And now, Alice, suck me off, - with these words, the schoolboy pulled me off the table, put me on my knees and, literally, planted my head on his stake. With one hand, he helped my head move up and down, and with the other, he rubbed my chest.
Damn, what juicy boobs she has! And he sucks like a pro!, - he said breathing heavily to a neighbor who looked at our couple with undisguised interest.
Yes, apparently, she sucked more than one hundred dicks ... - he answered and pulled out an already excited member from his pants.
Now I had to suck one cock and caress the other with my hand. The first to finish was the one whose penis was thicker. The flow of sperm hit my throat, and in order not to choke, I swallowed it. He continued to drive it in my mouth until I drank every drop.
Of course, I'm not against a blowjob, it even excites me, but ... But then he aroused me so that I needed an outlet for the third wave of lust, which was already approaching. One hand was released and I imperceptibly lowered it down and began to caress my clitoris. Unfortunately, it's not entirely unnoticeable. The student whose cock I was still holding in my hands, seeing this, declared:
Well you look! She's been fucked three times already, and she's still not enough! Let's get your incomparable boobs here, Alisa Konstantinovna, - and he began to drive his penis over my lips, and then over my breasts.
My breasts are very sensitive and when they are touched, especially with a male organ, I get excited to the point of impossibility. Having attached his wet penis between my breasts, the young man began to make progressive movements so that the head of the penis was centimeters from my face. I couldn't stand it anymore and finished for the third time. He followed right behind me. Salty drops of his sperm splashed on my face, chest, in my mouth open with passion.
And if the red light is on here, what does it mean? - the second boy asked in bewilderment, which immediately brought me to my senses.
I pushed my partner away in horror, I had only three minutes to clean myself up while the credits rolled. Pulling down my skirt and buttoning my blouse, I stuffed my wet shorts into my purse, wiped my face and neck with a tissue, and turned on the light.
The students slowly dispersed to their homes. I hoped that no one saw or heard those groans that were heard from above. But I caught one strange look on myself. And already in the toilet in the mirror I saw that my blouse was buttoned on different buttons and a pink nipple is visible in the crease.
With these two hooligans, I had several adventures, but not as exotic as those in the cinema. And six months later I got married, quit school and moved to another area.
The story of V. Dragunsky "The Main Rivers" is a story about a boy who played too much and did not learn his lessons, came to school, and, of course, the teacher called him to the blackboard, what happened next and what conclusions the boy made, you will find out by reading this story.
V. Dragunsky
MAIN RIVERS
Although I am already in my ninth year, I just realized yesterday that I still need to learn lessons. You love, you don’t love, you don’t want to, whether you’re lazy or not, but you need to learn lessons. This is the law. And then you can get into such a story that you don’t recognize your own. For example, I didn't have time to do my homework yesterday.
We were asked to learn a piece from one of Nekrasov's poems and the main rivers of America. And I, instead of studying, launched a kite into space in the yard. Well, he still didn’t fly into space, because he had an overly light tail, and because of this he was spinning like a top. This time. BUT Secondly, I had little thread, and I searched the whole house and collected all the threads that there were; I took it off my mother's sewing machine, and it turned out to be not enough. The kite flew to the attic and hung there, and it was still far from space.
And I was so busy with this kite and space that I completely forgot about everything in the world. It was so interesting for me to play that I stopped thinking about any lessons there. Completely went out of my head. But it turned out that it was impossible to forget about your affairs, because it turned out to be a shame.
I slept a little in the morning, and when I jumped up, there was a little time left ... But I read how smartly firefighters dress - they don’t have a single slippery movement, and I liked it so much that I trained quickly for half a summer dress. And today, as I jumped up and looked at my watch, I immediately realized that I had to dress like a fire. And I got dressed in one minute forty-eight seconds, all properly, only I laced up the laces through two holes. In general, I got to school on time and also managed to rush to class a second before Raisa Ivanovna. That is, she walked slowly along the corridor, and I ran out of the locker room (there were no children anymore). When I saw Raisa Ivanovna from afar, I set off at full speed and, not reaching the classroom for some five steps, walked around Raisa Ivanovna and jumped into the classroom. In general, I won a second and a half from her, and when she entered, my books were already in the desk, and I myself sat with Mishka as if nothing had happened. Raisa Ivanovna came in, we got up and greeted her, and I greeted her the loudest, so that she could see how polite I was. But she did not pay any attention to this and said as she walked:
- Korablev, to the board!
My mood immediately deteriorated, because I remembered that I forgot to prepare my lessons. And I really did not want to get out from behind my dear desk. I felt like I was glued to her. But Raisa Ivanovna began to rush me:
— Korablev! What are you? Am I calling you or not?
And I went to the blackboard.
Raisa Ivanovna said:
So that I read the verses that are given. And I didn't know them. I didn't even know what tasks were assigned. Therefore, I immediately thought that Raisa Ivanovna, too, may have forgotten what was asked, and would not notice what I was reading. And I cheerfully started:
Winter!.. The peasant, triumphant,
On firewood, updates the path:
His horse, smelling snow,
Trotting somehow...
“This is Pushkin,” said Raisa Ivanovna.
“Yes,” I said, “this is Pushkin. Alexander Sergeevich.
- And what did I ask? - she said.
- Yes! - I said.
- What "yes"? What did I ask, I ask you? Korablev!
- What? - I said.
- I'm sorry, what"? I ask you: what did I ask?
Here Mishka made a naive face and said:
“Why, doesn’t he know, or what, that you asked Nekrasov?” It was he who did not understand the question, Raisa Ivanovna.
That's what it means true friend. This Mishka managed to tell me in such a cunning way. And Raisa Ivanovna was already angry:
- Elephants! Don't you dare suggest!
- Yes! - I said. - Why are you climbing, Mishka? Without you, or something, I don’t know what Raisa Ivanovna asked Nekrasov! I thought about it, and you are climbing here, only knocking down.
The bear turned red and turned away from me. And again I was left alone with Raisa Ivanovna.
- Well? - she said.
- What? - I said.
"Stop chuckling every minute!"
I already saw that she was going to get angry right now.
- Read. By heart!
- What? - I said.
- Poems of course! - she said.
- Well! Raisa Ivanovna said.
- What? - I said.
- Read now! cried poor Raisa Ivanovna. “Read now, they tell you!” Title!
While she was screaming, Mishka managed to tell me the first word. He whispered without opening his mouth, but I understood him perfectly. So I boldly put my foot forward and recited:
- Man!
Everyone fell silent, and Raisa Ivanovna too. She looked at me attentively, and I looked at Mishka even more attentively. The bear pointed to his thumb and for some reason snapped him on the nail.
And I somehow immediately remembered the title and said:
- With a fingernail!
And repeated everything together:
- A man with a fingernail!
Everyone laughed. Raisa Ivanovna said:
“That’s enough, Korablev! Don’t try, it won’t work out.” If you don't know, don't be ashamed.
- Well, what about the outlook? Do you remember yesterday we agreed with the whole class that we would read interesting books in addition to the program? Yesterday you decided to learn the names of all the rivers in America. Have you learned?
Of course I didn't learn. This snake, be it wrong, completely ruined my whole life. And I wanted to confess everything to Raisa Ivanovna, but instead, suddenly, unexpectedly even for myself, I said:
- Of course I did. But how!
- Well, correct this terrible impression that you made by reading Nekrasov's poems. name me the most big river America, and I'll let you go.
That's when I got sick. Even my stomach hurt honestly. There was an amazing silence in the classroom. Everyone looked at me. And I was looking at the ceiling. And I thought that I would probably die by now. Goodbye everyone! And at that moment I saw that in the left last row, Petka Gorbushkin was showing me some kind of long newspaper strip and something was painted in ink on it, thickly painted, probably he wrote with his finger. And I began to peer into these letters and finally read the first half.
The story of a real teacher. “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, headhunter, career consultant. And in the 90s, she worked for eight years as a school teacher in remote Far Eastern villages.
« Far East. Every autumn is unearthly beauty. Golden taiga with dense green spots of cedars and firs, black wild grapes, fiery lemongrass brushes, intoxicating smells of the autumn forest and mushrooms. Mushrooms grow in clearings, like cabbage in a garden, you run out for half an hour behind the fence of a military unit, you return with a basket of mushrooms. In the suburbs, nature is feminine, but here - the embodiment of brutality. The difference is huge and inexplicable.
On the Far, everything that flies bites. The smallest creatures climb under the watch bracelet and bite so that the bite site swells for several days. “Ladybug, fly to the sky” is not a Far Eastern story. Cozy at the end of August spotted cows they gather in flocks like mosquitoes, attack apartments, sit on people and also bite. This muck can neither be slapped nor shaken off, the cow will release a smelly yellow liquid that cannot be washed off by anything. I fell out of love with ladybugs in 1988.
All biting goes into hibernation at the end of September, and until the second week of October comes heaven on earth. Cloudless in the literal and figurative sense of life. In the Far East, there is always sunshine - showers and snowstorms in episodes, there is never a Moscow multi-day gloom. The constant sun and three weeks of September-October paradise are irrevocably and firmly tied to the Far.
In early October, we celebrate Teacher's Day on the lakes. I am going there for the first time. Thin isthmuses of sand between transparent lakes, young birches, clear skies, black sleepers and rails of an abandoned narrow gauge railway. Gold, blue, metal. Silence, calmness, warm sun, peace.
What used to be here? Where is the narrow gauge from?
These are old sand pits. There were camps here - gold, blue and metal immediately change in mood. I walk along sandy isthmuses between reflections of birches and a clear sky in clean water. Camps in the middle of birch groves. Soothing landscapes from the windows of prison barracks. Prisoners left the camps and stayed in the same village where their guards lived. The descendants of both live on the same streets. Their grandchildren go to the same school. Now I understand the reason for the irreconcilable enmity between some local families.
That same October, I was persuaded to take class leadership in the eighth grade for a year. Twenty-five years ago, children studied for ten years. After the eighth school, those who did not make sense to teach further left the schools. This class consisted almost entirely of them. Two-thirds of the students, at best, will end up in vocational schools. At worst - immediately to dirty work and evening schools. My class is difficult, the children are uncontrollable, in September another class teacher refused them. The headmistress says that maybe I can negotiate with them. Just one year. If I don't quit in a year, I'll be given first class next September.
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 enter their classroom, he greets me with a sidelong glance. Far corner of the classroom, back desk, broad-shouldered big-headed guy in dirty clothes with broken hands and icy eyes. I'm afraid of him.
I'm afraid of them all. They are afraid of Ivan. Last year, he bled a classmate who had cursed his mother. They are rude, rude, embittered, they are not interested in lessons. They ate four class teachers, they didn’t give a damn about diary entries and parents’ calls to school. In half of the class, parents do not dry out from moonshine. “Never raise your voice to children. If you are sure that they will obey you, they will certainly obey,” I hold on to the words of the old teacher and enter the classroom as if into a cage with tigers, afraid to doubt that they will obey. My tigers are rude and bicker. Ivan silently sits at the back of the desk, his eyes downcast on the table. If he doesn’t like something, a heavy wolf look stops a careless classmate.
The district vtemyashilsya to increase the educational component of the work. Parents are no longer responsible for the upbringing of children, it is a duty class teacher. We must visit families regularly for educational purposes. I have an abyss of reasons to visit their parents - half the class can be left not for the second year, but for lifelong learning. I'm going to preach the importance of education. In the first family, I run into bewilderment. What for? In the timber industry, hard workers get more than teachers. I look at the drunken face of the father of the family, the peeled wallpaper and do not know what to say. Sermons about the high with a crystal ringing crumble into dust. Indeed, why? They live the way they used to live. They don't want another life.
The houses of my students are scattered for twelve kilometers. public transport no. I go to families. No one is happy to visit - the teacher in the house to complaints and flogging. In order to talk about good things, they don’t go home. I go to one house after another. Rotten floor. Drunk father. Drunk mother. The son is ashamed that his mother is drunk. Dirty musty rooms. Unwashed dishes. My students are embarrassed, they would like me not to see their lives. I wish I didn't see them either. Melancholy and hopelessness covers me. Fifty years later, the great-grandchildren of the former prisoners and their guards will forget the reason for the genetic hatred, but they will still prop up the falling fences and live in dirty, miserable houses. No one can get out of here, even if they want to. And they don't want to. The circle is closed.
Ivan looks at me frowningly. Brothers and sisters sit around him on the bed among dirty blankets and pillows. There is no bed linen and, judging by the blankets, there never was. The children stay away from their parents and huddle close to Ivan. Six. Ivan senior. I can’t say anything good to his parents - he has solid deuces, he will never catch up school curriculum. To call him to the blackboard is useless - he will come out and will be painfully silent, looking at the toes of his old shoes. The Englishwoman hates him. Why say anything? Doesn't make sense. As soon as I tell you how bad things are for Ivan, the scuffle will begin. The father is drunk and aggressive. I say that Ivan is well done and tries very hard. All the same, nothing will change, even if this sixteen-year-old gloomy Viking with blond curls will not be beaten in front of me. The mother bursts into joy:
“He is kind to me. Nobody believes, but he is kind. You know how he looks after his brothers and sisters! He does housework and goes to the taiga ... Everyone says that he studies poorly, but when should he study? You sit down, sit down, I'll pour you some tea, ”she brushes the crumbs off the stool with a dark rag and rushes to put the dirty kettle on the fire.
This embittered silent overgrowth can be kind? I refer to the fact that it is evening, I say goodbye and go out into the street. My house is twelve kilometers away. Early winter. It gets dark early, you need to get to dark.
Svetlana Yurievna, Svetlana Yurievna, wait! - Vanka runs after me down the street. - How are you alone? It's getting dark! Far away! - Mother of God, he spoke. I don't remember when last time heard his voice.
Van, go home, I'll catch a ride.
What if you don't get caught? Who will offend? - "Offend" and the Far East are incompatible things. Here everyone helps everyone. They can kill in a domestic quarrel. To offend a fellow traveler picked up in winter is not. They will deliver safely, even if not on the way. Vanka walks next to me for six kilometers, until a hitch happens. We talk all the way. Without it, it would be scary - the snow along the road is marked with animal tracks. With him, I'm no less scared - before my eyes are the cloudy eyes of his father. Ivan's icy eyes did not warm up. I speak because at the sounds own voice I'm not so scared to walk next to him at dusk in the taiga.
The next morning, in geography class, someone snaps at my remark.
“Hold your tongue,” a quiet, calm voice from the back of the desk. We all, silent from surprise, turn in the direction of Ivan. He looks around with a cold, sullen look at everyone and speaks to the side, looking into my eyes. - Hold your tongue, I said you're talking to the teacher. If you don't understand, I'll 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 relationships. The main thing is to be honest and treat them with respect. It is easier for me than for other teachers: I teach geography with them. On the one hand, no one needs the subject, 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, but that doesn't stop them from learning new things. And I no longer call Ivan to the board. He does assignments in writing. I diligently do not see how notes with answers are passed to him.
Twice a week before the start of the lessons political information. They do not distinguish Indians from Indians and Vorkuta from Voronezh. Out of hopelessness, I spit on the editorials and politics of the party, and twice a week in the morning I retell them articles from the magazine Vokrug Sveta. We discuss futuristic predictions and the possibility of existence Bigfoot, I tell you that Russians and Slavs are not the same thing, that writing was before Cyril and Methodius. And about the West. West here is called the central part Soviet Union. This country still exists. Space programs and fences supported by crooked logs still coexist in it. The country will soon be gone. There will be no timber industry and work. Ruined houses will remain, poverty and hopelessness will come to the village. But we don't know yet that this will happen.
I know that they will never get out of here, and I lie to them that if they want, they will change their lives. Can you go west? Can. If you really want. Yes, they will not succeed, but it is impossible to accept the fact that being born in the wrong place, in the wrong family, blocked all the roads for my open, sympathetic, abandoned students. For life. Without the slightest chance to change anything. Therefore, I lie to them with inspiration that the main thing is to want to change.
In the spring they crowd to visit me: “You were at everyone’s house, but you don’t call to yourself, it’s dishonest.” First, two hours before the appointed time, Leshka arrives, the fruit of mother's stray love with an unknown father. Leshka has a thin thoroughbred oriental face with high cheekbones and large dark eyes. Leshka is not on time. I make meringue. The son walks around the apartment with a vacuum cleaner. Lyoshka gets underfoot and pesters with questions:
What's this?
Whisk the protein.
Pampering, you can knock down with a fork. Why did you buy a vacuum cleaner?
Vacuum the floor.
Waste, and you can use a broom, - he pokes a finger into the hair dryer. - What is this for?
Leshka, this is a hair dryer! Dry your hair!
Stunned Leshka chokes with indignation:
Why dry them? Don't they dry out on their own?
Leshka! How about a haircut?! To be beautiful!
This is pampering, Svetlana Yurievna! With fat you are mad, you spend money! Duvet covers, out - a full balcony was washed! Transfer the powder!
In Leshka's house, as well as in Ivan's house, there are no duvet covers. Pampering is, bed linen. And mom needs to buy a mixer, her hands get tired.
Ivan won't come. They will regret that Ivan did not come, they will gobble up without him home cake and take the meringue for him. Then they will find another thousand and one far-fetched reasons to again to fill up on a visit, some one by one, some in a company. Everyone except Ivan. He won't come anyway. They will go to the kindergarten without my requests for my son, and I will be calm - as long as nothing happens to him, the village punks, they are the best protection for him. Neither before nor after have I seen such a degree of devotion and reciprocity from the students. Sometimes Ivan brings his son from kindergarten. They have a silent mutual sympathy.
The final exams are on the nose, I am tailing the Englishwoman - I persuade him not to leave Ivan for the second year. A protracted conflict and mutual passionate hatred leaves no chance for Vanka to graduate from school. Elena injects Vanka with drunken parents and brothers and sisters abandoned while their parents are alive. Ivan hates her fiercely, is rude. I persuaded all subject teachers not to leave Vanka for the second year. Elena is inflexible, she is infuriated by an overgrown wolf cub, which smells like a musty apartment. It also fails to persuade Vanka to apologize to Elena:
I'm not going to apologize to this bitch! Let her not talk about my parents, then I will not answer her!
Van, you can’t talk like that about a teacher, - Ivan silently raises heavy eyes at me, I fall silent and again go to persuade Elena:
Elena Sergeevna, of course, he should be left for the second year, but he still won’t learn English, and you will have to endure him for another year. He will sit with those who are three years younger and will be even angrier.
The prospect of putting up with Vanka for another year turns out to be a decisive factor, Elena accuses me of earning cheap prestige with the students and agrees to draw Vanka a year's three.
We take exams in Russian from them. The entire class was given the same pens. After the essays are handed in, we check the work with two pens in hand. One with blue ink, the other with red. In order for the essay to get a C, you need to correct a damn cloud of errors, after which you can take on the red paste. One of the guys managed to smuggle in the exam fountain pen. The exam was not passed - we could not find ink of the same color in the village. I'm glad it's not Ivan.
They announce the results of the exam. They are proud. Everyone said that we would not surrender Russian, but we passed! You passed. Well done! I believe in you. I fulfilled my promise - withstood a year. In September I will be given the first class. Those of me who came to study on the ninth day will give me all their bouquets during the lineup.
Early nineties. First of September. I no longer live in the country in which I was born. My country is no more.
Svetlana Yurievna, hello! - A well-groomed young man calls out to me. - You recognized me?
I frantically remember whose father this 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 I brought my sister. Remember when you came to us, she was sitting on the bed with me?
Vanka! It's you?!
I am Svetlana Yurievna! You didn’t recognize me, - in the voice of resentment and reproach. Overgrown wolf cub, how do I recognize you? You are completely different.
I graduated from a technical school, I work in Khabarovsk, I save up for an apartment. When I buy, I'll take all of mine.
He entered the nineties as hot knife into oil - he had excellent survival practice and a heavy cold look. In a couple of years he will really buy big apartment, marries, takes away sisters and brothers and breaks off relations with parents. Leshka will get drunk and perish by the beginning of the 2000s. Several people will graduate from institutes. Someone will move to Moscow.
You have changed our lives.
You have said a lot. you had beautiful dresses. The girls were always waiting 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 a murdered military town next to the timber industry settlement. I had a mixer, a hair dryer, a vacuum cleaner, linens and Vokrug sveta magazines. I sewed beautiful dresses in the evenings on a typewriter given by my grandmothers for the wedding.
A key that opens tightly closed doors, there may be a hair dryer and beautiful dresses. If you really want to."
Summer my first time
It was last summer, my sister Lina came to me for summer vacation. I was 15 then, and Lina was 17. I introduced her to my friends, mostly guys. We walked most of all with Max and Nikita, often went to our bar, hung out there until late, loved to drink! And there, in a bar, I met Dima, he went to my school, he was 16 years old. I moved to the 11th grade, I began to communicate with him, our company became larger because Dima and his friends joined it! I started talking to him on VK, we corresponded, but when I saw him live in the bar, I couldn’t even say hello to him. And then one evening, Lina wanted very much to go home, but I didn’t, because Dima was there. Nikita was in love with Lina and went home with her, I sat at the table and watched Dima, his lips were very tender, I really wanted to kiss him. But I just watched him having fun with his friends, and suddenly he looked at me, and this moment our eyes look at each other, and I see how he rises from his chair and goes straight to me. He comes and sits next to me on a chair, and asks:
- Why one? Where are Lina and Nikita?
- They went home. I didn't want to and stayed.
- Well, come to us, you won't be bored with us.
I immediately agreed. We went to the table, and Dima offered me a drink. alcoholic drink, I agreed. But for some reason he didn't drink.
And when I got drunk well, I wanted Dima. I specially went to the women's toilet, and Dima followed me.
He's asking:
- Are you okay?
- Yes, everything is fine. Head hurts a little!
He laughed slightly, and said to me:
- You need to drink less.
He came up to me and decided to wipe my mascara, which was a little smeared.
I looked him straight in the eyes.
And suddenly he kissed me sharply, it was indescribable!
We passionately kissed, I hugged him, and felt his "boner", he rested on me right in my pussy. I wanted him very much, and I was ready to trust him so that he would be the first to drink.
And he picks me up and carries me out of the bar drunk and carries me to his car. He opens the door and puts me in the back seat while we were driving I fell asleep, I woke up already when he brought me into his house, his house is big and beautiful home there was no one, we went to the bath to wash, and he began to pester me. It turned me on, he took off my blouse and my skirt right there, I stood in one bra and shorts, he kissed me, and again takes me in his arms and carries me to his room, he went in and put me on the bed and we kiss again I take off his T-shirt, and he starts to caress me, kisses my chest and all of me, I really wanted him to enter me already, he didn’t know that I was still a “girl” and taking off my panties, he entered me very sharply , it was very painful, I screamed, he was frightened and understood everything, only I didn’t have blood, and then he tried to do it as slowly as possible, I felt very pleased, I bit him on the neck, he went deeper and deeper every time , I fell in love with him more and more, he kissed me either on the neck or on the lips. My first time was the best, now I'm dating Dima, and everything is fine with us!!!
