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to the bolsheviks. They said they knew it was a school, but asked if they could use the space in the classroom to clean their weapons. Their living quarters, they claimed, were tiny and tight, with no elbow room. They said it was cold outside and they did promise not to make a mess. “Please, come in.” I said. They were kozaks from Altay, volunteers in the Red Army, the sons of farmers. They cleaned their rifles and we talked. They asked about the school, and spoke about themselves. After they finished, they thanked me and left. Very quietly and nicely. In the spring a new ruling came from the school authorities which ended all religious instructions in the school and stated that all religious symbols must be removed. We had few problems with this ruling. Ob viously, we never even considered removing the image of Christ which graced our classroom. The batiushka (Russian priest) who taught cathechism rarely showed up. We paid him 100 rubles for only five lessons, which he took and left. That concluded his spiritual and patrio tic duty. The new ruling also called for the study of the Rus sian language. I had no problem with that, since all of my students knew Russian much better than Ukrainian. With the coming of spring life became somewhat easier, but the problems did not cease. One day the res ident commissar showed up and announced that our school is being requisitioned and will become a radio/- telegraph station. “What will become of me?” I asked the commissar. I told him that because of my status I was exempt from eviction, and therefore could remain in my quarters next the classroom. I also told him that I had excellent hearing and it was not a good idea to have a civilian around a military set up. Inadvertently I could hear something I was not supposed to. I was trying very hard to make that russian suspicious of me. I guess it worked for after a few days, the station was installed in another, totally separate house. The director of the sta tion became my neighbor. He was a decent man, but a fanatical communist, who served the bolsheviks because of communist ideals, not for personal gain. When the bolsheviks came to power the govern ment assigned a certain amount of money for ethnic schools. Russians who taught in Ukrainian villages claimed that the people demanded Russians their native language. I myself saw a letter from a Russian teacher who wrote to the Krasnoyarsk Ukrainian community asking for books and plays. She said that the people in her village refused to attend any performances unless the plays were given in Ukrainian. In June, my neighbor the director of the radio sta tion came to seen what a Ukrainian school looks like. He inspected the class and asked, “Is everything here taught only in Ukrainian?” “Only in Ukrainian,” I replied. “Why are you separating yourselves? Would it not be the same to teach the children in Russian?” he asked. “Why did you announce in your program that each nation should be responsible for itself? You see, we are Ukrainians and are taking care of being Ukrainian.” This was my answer. He looked at the portrait of Taras Shevchenko and Kotliarevsky, glimpsed at the still hanging picture of Christ and said: “I know Shevchenko, but who’s the other one?” “This is Kotliarevsky. Did you see the opera Natalka Poltavka ?” “I did,” he replied. “He is the author of that work,” I said. “Well, imagine that. That was a good play! However, what you need here is a portrait of Lenin and Marx.” “Lenin would pass, but Marx has such a hairdo that my students would become frightened. Another thing, if I hang up such a portrait I would have to explain who the person is, and for the children the theories of Marx are too difficult to comprehend. It is not in keeping with the rules of pedagogy to show pictures to children which they cannot understand.” I explained to the man. Our school under the patronage of Kotliarevsky remained operational till the very end. No one questi oned how this school survived when all the others were being closed, pending full reorganization of the system. We not only worked but let people know about us, about our work. Our students took part in a huge com memorative event for Taras Shevchenko, organized by the Ukrainian community in Krasnoyarsk, which eve ryone attended. With other schools closed, the Poles, White Rus sians and Russians also sent their children to our schools, since it was the only place where they were able to study. I left Siberia that summer, heading west. Krasno yarsk, Anhora, Nykolaivka remained only a memory. (The above is a loose translation of an article by Konstan- tyna Malycka, published in "Ridna Shkola" November 15, 1937, Lviv). 22 “НАШЕ ЖИТТЯ”, ТРАВЕНЬ 1992 Видання C оюзу Українок A мерики - перевидано в електронному форматі в 2012 році . A рхів C У A - Ню Йорк , Н . Й . C Ш A.
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