I grew up in an ordinary Russian village on the banks of the Oka. My parents long ago moved to Moscow, but I'm anxious feelings remembering his own school in the village and the first teacher Natalia Sergeevna. Somehow, the village of his childhood reminded me bathed in bright blue with white snow, the smell of hay and harness. Natalia often took us to the Oka, to see the ice drift. An exciting spectacle. River during the ice breakup produces a subtle clink. As explained by the teacher, it is the small channels in the ice. They get shards of ice, and it makes a sound similar to a bell. This sound reminds the Symphony of spring.
Natalia instilled in us a love for the Russian language. She arranged competitions who will write beautiful letters. We are excited to take them in notebooks. And we wrote with colored pencils words, who sees what color the word. It was very interesting.
Natalia never raised her voice at us. Dictated words have the deepest meaning. I remember her kind and heartwarming woman. Natalia has always found time to visit their students at home, asked about the situation in the family. Initially the parents were afraid of the visits of the teacher, thought I had done something in school. And then I used to and we together drank tea.
I still remember the top five for the dictation. She looked at me from the notebook beautiful figure with perfect clamp and twirl. I've always loved her five. They were all different, filled with some strange sense to me.
The inner world of man laid still in school, and I think that rural students were more fortunate. There is the beauty of the world and the beauty of the words merge into one. Unfortunately, while studying in Moscow, I met teachers such bright personalities as Natalia. I'm glad she met me at the beginning of life.
I've been attending a art school in Moscow. On the wall in the room hanging my first picture, which did well professional artist. I called her "the Village teacher". The plot is simple: children with the teacher watching the ice drift on the Oka river. Don't know if I managed to convey the ringing of bells from the ice floes, but the ringing coming from our hearts, I exactly passed.
