From my childhood.Lecturer.

   I was an exemplary schoolgirl, one of the best in class. I was a success in studying- I was fond of reading- I went in for volleyball- I was an active Komsomol member.
   Once an important man came from the district Centre. He was to lecture. I don’t remember the topic but just an episode remained in my memory store. The lecturer told something about Pavlic Morosov’s treachery of his father. Each Soviet pupil knew this story. So did I. I did know. I was a good Komsomol member. But the thing is that during the lecturer’s telling I happened to be thinking over the idea of family relations. I even imagined the scene of betraying, Pavel’s words, his father’s grief. Some hesitation arose in my mind. If Pavel had been right? My thoughts are likely to have reflected on my face…  “I see some of you don’t know about Pavel Morosov, the hero-boy of the USSR.”-said the lecturer: “For example, this girl.” I looked up and saw him showing at me. “Girl, stand up. Don’t you know?”  I stood up but understood nothing. I was at my wit’s end. Everybody-teachers- classmates- kept silence. I kept silence. “Shame on you!”- cried the Man.
   I was fond of reading. I had read many books about children of the WWII. I did read about Pavlic. Different feeling -shock, offence, pain, indignation,hatred and  fright- mixed up in my poor head. I kept silence.
   Suddenly I felt somebody touching me. It was my deskmate. She caught my hand under the desk, pressed it and kept holding.  This  strong pressing of her warm hand  saved me from sobbing and maybe from hysterics or depression. 

© Copyright: Надежда Колесникова, 2016

Регистрационный номер №0352230

от 24 августа 2016

[Скрыть] Регистрационный номер 0352230 выдан для произведения:    I was an exemplary schoolgirl, one of the best in class. I was a success in studying- I was fond of reading- I went in for volleyball- I was an active Komsomol member.
   Once an important man came from the district Centre. He was to lecture. I don’t remember the topic but just an episode remained in my memory store. The lecturer told something about Pavlic Morosov’s treachery of his father. Each Soviet pupil knew this story. So did I. I did know. I was a good Komsomol member. But the thing is that during the lecturer’s telling I happened to be thinking over the idea of family relations. I even imagined the scene of betraying, Pavel’s words, his father’s grief. Some hesitation arose in my mind. If Pavel had been right? My thoughts are likely to have reflected on my face…  “I see some of you don’t know about Pavel Morosov, the hero-boy of the USSR.”-said the lecturer: “For example, this girl.” I looked up and saw him showing at me. “Girl, stand up. Don’t you know?”  I stood up but understood nothing. I was at my wit’s end. Everybody-teachers- classmates- kept silence. I kept silence. “Shame on you!”- cried the Man.
   I was fond of reading. I had read many books about children of the WWII. I did read about Pavlic. Different feeling -shock, offence, pain, indignation,hatred and  fright- mixed up in my poor head. I kept silence.
   Suddenly I felt somebody touching me. It was my deskmate. She caught my hand under the desk, pressed it and kept holding.  This  strong pressing of her warm hand  saved me from sobbing and maybe from hysterics or depression. 

 

From my childhood. 20 years past.

From my childhood. Father.