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«Biology.»
«Shit. We’ve got to hurry. Come on, let’s get out of here!»
A dozen of pupils swept away from the class and disappeared down the stairs. Andrey Ivanovich looked at the quiet classroom and began to prepare to the next lesson. The sixth form was supposed to be there in ten minutes.
It was a remarkable day.
The sixth form guys were very excited with some PE exercises and could not calm down for a long time. When they did, he sighed and repeated his standard phrase «Good morning, Ladies and Gentlemen!..» In vain. «Ladies and Gentlemen!» he increased his own volume: «Good MO-OR-NING! Cut the noise and let’s begin our wonderful journey. Who is on duty today?»
One more lesson has begun. It was little different to his previous lessons but there seemed to be no sign of improvement either. «So, my friends, how’s things? Where have you been? What have you seen?», half of class began to shout loudly and he could not recognize a word. «Let’s begin’ with «oysters’, so to speak,» he smiled. «Ms. Loginov, how are you?»
«I’m fine. Thank you. And you?», a chubby girl answered quickly. She got her face made up and a thick layer of Mascara rested on her eyelids even though she was twelve.
«I’m fine too. Thanks. Tell us what your rest was like?», he wondered.
«Pardon?», she asked in Russian. He had to repeat the sentence more slowly, «Have you had any rest?»
«What Everest, Andrey Ivanovich?», the girl was completely confused. «I was at dacha. Are you joking? I’ve got no money for Everest!», she chuckled and he looked up expecting a loud laugh but nobody even smiled. «My God,» he thought, «how can I go on? And they are in the sixth form now…»
«Ms. Loginov, not «Everest’ but «any rest’. Got it?», he tried to explain her mistake with a sad smile. Only then some of her friends laughed a little. He shrugged.
Half of the lesson has passed by and Yuriy Ilyasov, a quiet and an industrious pupil with thick-lens glasses, was desperately fighting against the army of unknown words in his text book. He joined this class last year and had studied in another city until his parents moved to Moscow. Andrey Ivanovich patiently waited for him to make mistakes and then corrected him. He turned his eyes for a second but still kept listening to the pupil’s reading and translating. Suddenly a word grated on his ears. He turned around and asked him to repeat.
«Lord Baron,» Yuriy said blinking his eyes.
«What?», Andrey Ivanovich was surprised.
«Lord Baron!», Yuriy repeated in an injured voice. «Can’t you see, Andrey Ivanovich, it is written is the text. I’m reading it as it is!», he pointed out down to the page with his finger. Andrey Ivanovich began to laugh and the laugh turned into dry cough with tears on his eyes.
«Yuriy, my dear friend,» he whispered hoarsely, «it’s «Lord Byron’. Haven’t you ever heard of him?»
The boy shook his head. Andrey Ivanovich looked around the room. The guys and girls looked puzzled. He felt perplexed as well.
«Hey, little monsters, no ideas?!», he raised his brows and waited. No-one replied. He nodded and sighed. «OK, just for your information «Lord Baron’ as you said,» he pointed out to Yuriy, «or Lord Byron was the greatest English poet.» He shrugged in disbelief and asked the next boy to go on with the text. A quiet voice began to read the next sentence, and he sat listening to it. Ten minutes left before the bell rang but «that was not the half of the story’, though. The pupil read the sentence a bit disconnectedly and finally has begun to translate. He was slow but OK. The first half of the sentence took him two or three minutes and the second part was supposed to kill the rest of the lesson time. The boy mumbled to himself before speaking loudly… and finally said, «The Queen Charlatan was presented,» he sat thinking about something nobody but him could know about. Andrey Ivanovich opened his mouth thunderstruck with the translation and asked «What? What did you say?»
«Queen Charlatan was presented,» the boy was embarrassed but he could not understand his mistake «What’s wrong?», he asked in an offended voice again.
«Buddy, it’s written «Charlotte’. Can you pronounce in Russian «Sharlotta’? Hey, you, class, have you heard the name before?!», he looked at them. No one nodded.
«Andrey Ivanovich, is that different to say «Sharlotta’ or «Charlatan’?», the «offended boy’ wondered. «It sounds very similar.» He was quiet and sincere. There was no joking in his voice.
«Not that much indeed,» Andrey Ivanovich smiled. «Charlatan, shalopay, scapegrace, who cares? It’s similar to sharmanka and sharlatanka. Right?» The class burst into laughter. «OK, guys and girls, not much time left. Let’s sort out homework.» He could not stand it anymore. But he had to. Life was supposed to go on.
December saw the first meeting with parents at school and it wasn’t easy. Not for the parents but for him. He had been told the pupils’ parents mostly considered a school as a temporary shelter, a lodge for their children from 8.30 a.m. till 2.00 p.m. Pure and simple. He thought, however, that some may feel differently and have an understanding of what he did.
Initial greetings and smiles didn’t seem to matter much tonight, even though he felt that a first impression was the most important thing. He didn’t know what impression the pupil’s parents had, but his own wasn’t a good one. Tired, estranged faces with empty eyes, wooden stares and some unclear sounds like sighs or indistinct mumbles were in the air. And dark hopelessness from the thirty or so adults simply spoilt the atmosphere. They listened to him and nodded, mostly in silence. Some women tried to encourage him, smiled then sank back into their immovable detachment again. Andrey Ivanovich despaired, but went on describing the way their kids learnt English and every pupil’s virtues and shadows but nobody seemed to care even when it concerned their own child.
«We try to learn some more or less common things, for example, in geography. But they know little about these points in Russian, let alone in English,» he tried to explain why the kids were not so successful. «For example, Ms. Ivanova said we could go to London and Washington by train. Can you imagine that? Ms. Ivleva sincerely thinks Dali and Deli are two brothers from a blockbuster film. Great Britain and England are two different countries. One is in Europe and the second somewhere in the hell. UK and the US are OK, they think. You see, a lack of basic knowledge is scary and it’ll be difficult for them to get to the airport, let alone a foreign country.»
«Ha!» a woman’s voice interrupted him. «We’ll never get to the airport «cause our salary is only enough to get to the closest bakery!», apparently it was her mother. Some nodded with sympathy. Andrey Ivanovich was stunned. There was nothing more to add. How could he dare call their children brain-dead, beer-addled or an airhead? What a cheek! It wouldn’t be unfair on their parents though…
Next morning it was bright and fresh. 6.00 a.m. and the coffee machine has begun to spread it’s charming aroma around the room and even though he knew he’d be better off without caffeine, the delicious coffee smell made him feel good. He couldn’t refuse a cup of coffee that morning. He narrowed his eyelids, sipping the black liquid with pleasure and thinking of the pupils. The tenth form ones seemed to understand the Sequence of Tenses and Present Continuous Tense. The previous grammar rules weren’t as difficult to practice. However, «PCT» was more difficult to grasp and hard to compare with something similar in Russian. There was a short advertisement for bed-linen on the TV with a naive love-story plot. He took a pen and jotted down a few sentences:
I’ve been gazing at the dawn
I’ve been staring at your gown
I’ve been looking at the street
Where we failed to briefly meet
I’ve been watching stupid ad
With two gorgeous girls in bed
I’ve been wasting precious time
«Cause time wasting is a crime
And I have to say again
I was suffering in vain
He opened his laptop and switched on the TV card. Ten minutes later the commercial was on again and he recorded it onto his hard disk. Great! Practice makes perfect, indeed. The lines he wrote didn’t seem good, but weren’t bad, but he hoped they were different from the book’s long and boring explanations anyway. His pupils were supposed to enjoy them.
The lesson began with a lot of jokes, smiles and laughter because it was one girl’s birthday. This definitely didn’t fit the general mood. They didn’t listen carefully, and Andrey Ivanovich forced himself to carry on. He stopped explaining grammar and tried to smile. His idea to attract their attention with his «brilliant advert poem’ failed, and it hurt his feelings. The girls sitting at the front desks often turned around to chat and by the middle of the lesson they hung onto the backs of their chairs. Low-slung jeans slipped down below their coccyx – a new kind of teens fashion – and the T-shirts and short blouses hiked up at the back. He had a gallery of the violin-like waists with half-naked hips and S-vibrating spines. All of them had tramp-stamps – «the-state-of-the-art’ lower-back tattoos, which they ensured can be seen by wearing a short top and low-rise pants. There were dangerous scorpions, bizarre flowers, falling rose-leaves over a girl’s languishing gaze, something else and… two men feeding coal to a stove to keep it going. Both men were supposed to actively shovel when the picture owner would pick up her feet nicely.
«Girls, listen,» he tried to attract attention to himself. «Could you be so kind to turn around, please?» Some looked around and stopped their chatter. «You know, your picturesque tattoos made by modern Gogens, Rafaels and Da Vincis, have nothing to do with our lesson. Believe me, it is much more pleasant to talk to you than to your… second faces, so to speak,» he chuckled.
«Andrey Ivanovich, if I translate correctly what you’ve just said you don’t like our tattoos,» one smiled. «But they are both very beautiful and expensive!», she pouted her mouth and rolled her eyes meaningfully.
«It’s not really my field,» he replied, «however these masterpieces have less meaning than your look now,» he wanted to put her back into her place but she reacted immediately.
«Excuse me,» her voice was bitter as she could make it, «what do you think we should do then? Should we tattoo a crossword or Pythagoras’ theorem down there? And who for? For Isaac Newton or Perelman?», she gave a long laugh and the class seemed to support her. «Sorry but you can hardly understand the deep meaning of each tattoo.» The girl flicked their hair and grinned more inanely than before. They might have forgotten they were at school. Seemingly all of them were happily indifferent rather than actively hostile.
«You’re right, I know, but I guess I’m just old and can’t understand what’s «fun’ about it,» he had to avoid the more difficult part of the conversation. «But, I’m happy that you know these artists’ names. At least that’s something.»
«We don’t. We’ve only just heard of them, so who are these people?», she gave an «I-don’t-care’ shrug of her shoulders, and they all gave a knowing laugh. He felt uneasy. He tried his best to open up the world he’s seen and known – although it was vain, he knew secretly he could give them more than others.
«No the slightest, girls,» he answered with the same intonation. Naturally, it made no sense to continue with the lesson. «Although a fact may sound interesting to you.» They all stopped talking and he could finally see their faces instead of the backs. He thought that they liked to listen to his stories, which pleased him, but he knew he was wrong in general, so that was a great disappointment. «Around your age, we celebrated a girl’s birthday at her house… Later that evening, we all decided to make a wish, so to speak. And eighteen out of twenty of us, had the same one.
«Which one?» he was immediately asked.
«It may sound a little odd to you,» he made a small, but not deliberate pause as thoughts of past events filled his head. «But we only had one wish, which was «let it be anything but war’. That’s all’. He could see their expressions fading, but he’d predicted that already.
«Maybe this was the only problem during your time,» one boy politely asked as an excuse for their lack of compassion.»
«Perhaps. But what do you wish for?» Allow me to do a short test – just a few questions. I’ll dictate and you just answer, marking your responses with one, two or three. Okay? The first question – «what is your biggest wish?» The second question – «Who would you most like to look like?» Thirdly, «how much money do you need to be completely happy for the rest of your life and what do you actually need to be happy?» Lastly, but by no means least,“ he smiled, „what attributes must you have to be successful nowadays.“ He sat back down at his desk. A deep silence hung in the air and everyone had their heads bent over their answer sheets. He took his thermos and took a long swig. His coffee was cold, but still good, proving it was worth paying extra for „Lavazza’. Half an hour later, the test was over and the bell rang. All his pupils left the classroom with embarrassed smiles, but not looking directly into his eyes. It was as if they’d got into mischief and were afraid of being punished by their parents. Having looked through the sheets he thoughtfully ran a hand through his hair and opened a drawer.
By the seventh lesson all classes had answered the same questions and he put their replies on the table to sort out.
«Hello – can you hear me?», he listened to the voice and couldn’t help but smile again. No-one else would greet him like this on the phone.»
«Good afternoon, Anna Ilyinishna,» he said. «How are you? Are you OK?»
«Oh, nice to hear your voice, little Andrew,» she switched to English, «I haven’t heard from you in ages. Thanks for your concern. What’s up? Why are you calling?»
«Anna Ilyinishna, you are impossible. Can’t I call just for a chat?
«No, you can’t. So, what do you want?»
«You see, er… I’m a teacher now.»
«My condolences,» she commented. He simply sighed.
«I started teaching in September and tried to make my pupils interested in English any way I could… I did my best to tell them what they could achieve providing they sat and learned for their last two years at school, but to no avail. More importantly, they’re from troubled families, they’re disadvantaged children, so to speak. I asked them what they’d want to hear about Paris, London, Taipei, Berlin, Frankfurt, Vienna, Beijing, Shanghai, but even this prompted no reaction from them. I said, «Right, boys and girls. How do you think people get to know each other in China, the UK, France or Germany? Silence – absolutely no reply at all. So, I decided to give them a short questionnaire. The first question was what they dreamed about, the second, what they’d need to be completely happy in their lives and the third, who they’d like to look like.
«Hmm. I can tell you what they answered without hearing your results, I’m afraid.»
«Really?», he was unpleasantly surprised.
«Of course. They need nothing and don’t care. You’re going to attempt to change their path to a better life and to help change them.
«Er… Sort of.»
«What I do understand, is that neither you nor I can do anything to change them. One or two will be okay by our reckoning; others will learn nothing, read nothing and do nothing but play games and waste time. So, there’s nothing left for them to wish for or actually need. If they don’t need education, books or to use their brains, it doesn’t necessarily mean they need nothing. Mostly, they do what they’re asked to by parents or other adults. However, adults don’t usually ask for anything, because they’re tired, so the only wish they have is to get some peace and quiet from the kids in the evening. So, if they don’t need to wash, cook, scrub or dust as these functions are performed by consumer electronics, what could they wish for? Humans go back to being simple animals without having ambition.»
«Do you want me to list their ambitions?», he asked, sounding puzzled.
«No, not at all. Just give me the one that’s common through all of them,» she asked it as quietly as when she’d taught him many years ago.
«Hmm…» he pondered, «I’d say that it’s money – all their ambitions surround having lots of money and having it could make their ambitions real. Ha! That’s all us adults think about too!», he added with a note of sarcasm in his voice.
«You’re right. I dare say that it’s become a universal requirement, hasn’t it? Look, my feelings about money haven’t changed dramatically over the last twenty years but (!) now I’m far happier when I receive money instead of a book or a box of chocolates from my pupils. Whether you admit it or not, it lets everyone buy their slice of the happiness pie.»
«I don’t understand where you’re going with this, Anna Ilyinishna’, he sighed. «I’m confused. I tried my best to teach them a better way, but I’ve failed. It looks as if we’re from different planets, but none of them will succeed in business without a certain level of knowledge. They all dream about having money, without the responsibility of a job. I’m beginning to sound like my grandparents sounded to me when I was a pupil. They never mentioned money though and you do. Do you really think that money is the root of all evil?»
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