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copies of various stories, fables, poems, etc., and hand these out. With the older students I held discussions about history, geography, about nature. I made them write a lot. I made all schedules even though we did not adhere to any hourly set of rules. We began our classes when the factory whistle sounded and studied all day, taking breaks for play time, for crafts and some singing. The children were good and very well behaved (such wond erful children as those in Siberia, I have never met any where else), studied eagerly, came to school even when the frost was in full force, and treated me kindly. They loved to stand in front of the map and point their little fingers from Krasnoyarsk to that far away Ukraine, from where their parents had come. They loved to hear about Ukraine and talked about it as if it was an enchanted land. Expressions such as “cherry orchards” or “song of a nightingale” were strange to them, for they never saw one, not heard the other in their environment. Shev chenko’s life they understood and it moved them, for they all were the children of social democrats, whom the Tzarist regime had punished for some travesty by sending them to distant Siberia. The school was situated not in Krasnoyarsk proper, but past the railroad tracks in the suburbs of Nyko- laivka. The parents of my students were for the most part workers in the railroad factories which were the largest in all Siberia. Because the school building was hidden from view near the forest, we were spared from being requisitioned for a long time. The school did well and fared better than most state supported city schools. We were not afraid of the bol sheviks. The people of Krasnoyarsk saw them as libera tors from the terrible Kolchak regime. During the first days of 1920 the bolsheviks entered Krasnoyarsk and took the town without a fight; the entire garrison in the town sided willingly with the bolsheviks. On January 4th the red flags of the victors were seen throughout the city. It was during this time, before Christmas, that we decided to have a Christmas tree for the students and I had set out to town to do some shopping. While cross ing the railroad track I heard shots being fired. I paid no attention to this and continued on my way to the stores. But the stores were already closed, the market place was empty and doors in buildings were quickly being shut tight. The shooting came closer, the sounds were louder. I turned and tried to hurry home, but a soldier stopped me. “Turn back honey! There’s a battle raging there and you might get hit with a bullet!” Whether I wanted to or not, I had to sit out the whole day in Kras noyarsk. In the evening a terrible storm began to brew, so that you could not see anything. Now I had to spend the night here also. In the light of the morning it was quiet, bright and calm. The shooting had stopped, as if it never occurred. I walked back home to Nykolaivka and as I walked I could see large groups of black rooks circling in the sky right by our school. This is where the battle was. Polish legions attempted to recapture the city and thus open the way to the east, but their attempt failed. Bodies of dead people and dying horses littered the streets. In our school the windows were blocked and the children eag erly described the battle to me. The adults hid in their homes, in cellars, one woman was killed on the street, a worker was injured on the railroad track, while the children running here and there remained unscathed. It seems that God cared for little dummies. Now the uncertain times began for all of us. All the schools in Krasnoyarsk were closed, given to the army for use as hospitals. Due to the great influx of refugees even large apartments were requisitioned. Sometimes ten people had to live in one room. Our Ukrainian coop erative was closed, but the school remained open. One day the Kolchak money was totally devaluated, an act which put everyone in a very bad position. We could not even decorate a tree for the children for Christmas. On that day my landlady became as rich as I. Actually, I was in a better position that she was, because now I was a government employee and as a teacher I received ration cards for food and other necessities. But with all the problems around us, we still decided to keep the school open until the end of the school year, counting on the help of the entire Ukrainian community. We limited expenses and laid off the janitor. I assumed all her responsibilities such as feeding the stove, shovelling snow, sweeping the classroom, washing the floors. The economic and sanitary conditions in the area worsened each day. In the prisoner-of-war camps and in the city or Krasnoyarsk typhus raged which killed people left and right. Soon electricity was cut to a min imum. The committee which inspected houses allowed only one 25 watt light bulb per room. In my school there were four bulbs for three rooms, one of which was a 50 watt bulb. It is horrible to sit through Siberian evenings, without a light. Then it was even impossible to buy can dles. It is easier to bear the cold than darkness... It so happened that the inspection committee came to my school when classes were in session. The room was filled with children, for then we had about 30 of them. I didn’t even have to beg for the lights. They gave permis sion for the use of all the bulbs, saying that for we must have evening classes also. Every day soldiers would come to the school but I would ask them to leave, saying the school should be free from interference. To my surprise, everyone agreed with me, the communists, the Serbs in the Red Army, as well as the Tatar officers. It so happened that one day five soldiers walked into the classroom. Here is new trouble, I thought to myself. “This is a school.” The word school was magic ‘НАШЕ ЖИТТЯ”, ТРАВЕНЬ 1992 21
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