Writer Sergei Silin taught Russian language and literature and worked as a newspaper correspondent. He edited the children's magazine "Prostokvashino", published in "Kolobok", "Tram", "Yeralash", "Murzilka" and other children's magazines.

“His inventions are charming, his tone is confidential and good-natured, his edification is delicate. To these advantages we must also add a sense of humor (a rarity in literature in general),” critics say about the writer.

And Miracle Radio, to be honest, at first I was wary of what I read – some strange fairy tales, in the style of “Scary Stories.” Will children understand, won’t adults judge?!

Then we tried to voice it and... it turned out very cool! The children's sonorous voice, the excellent acting of the adult actors, the music and inter-noise did their job.

(editing and sound engineering by Vera Kuligina)

The stories are funny and instructive

Butterfly bow

The most fun and funny things happen only in kindergarten. Why so? Because real craftswomen work there. And tell a fairy tale. And tie a bow with a bow!

Voiced by Mira Kuligina and Katerina Chaukina.

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Worm Second

Why do you think there is a worm for fishing? Put it on a fishing rod? In no case! You need a worm to tell jokes! Uncle Vova thinks so. And he's probably right...

Voiced by Dasha Khokhlova, Viktor Kharzhavin and Elena Avdeenko.

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Grandma with pies

Spelling charts or pies? What do children think about in class? - Grandmothers know. Grandmothers, in general, know everything. They know how to help a hungry grandson and how to deal with a harmful driver. The grandson usually gets help from the pies, and the drivers from the belt 🙂

Voiced by: Milena Kalinina, Vasily Limonov and Katerina Chaukina.

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Miracle Radio – Babu shka with pies (Silin)

The Case of the Ogre

How to deal with a cannibal? - Ruin his acid-base balance. Who can do this? — Little boys who are not afraid of anything, but do not want to give a diary for comments.

Voiced by: Mira Kuligina, Ilya Grednev and Anatoly Mikhasik.

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Miracle Radio – DC teach with the ogre (Silin)

Cake on wheels

What happens when you don't listen to your mom? - Trouble, that's right. What happens when you don't listen to the RADIO? - You are left without cake! It's a shame, of course, but it's the truth!

Voiced by Mira Kuligina and Sasha Shishkin.

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Miracle Radio – Cake on wheels (Silin)

Mysterious conversation

If you eavesdrop on other people's conversations, you can hear a lot of interesting and incomprehensible things. Very unclear. And even mysterious. Then you stand and think - what are they talking about?? And in order not to think too much, it’s better not to eavesdrop!

Voiced by: Vita Dolgacheva and Victoria Parfenyeva.

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H udo Radio – Mysterious conversation (Silin)

Vadya Damn

How to stop blinking? You can negotiate with some wizard or sorcerer. Then... wait for him to wave his magic wand. And... prepare for an air attack of hot pancakes. Brrr. Nothing pleasant. And don't laugh!! No, you definitely need to laugh!

Voiced by: Milena Kalinina, Katerina Chaukina and Vasily Limonov.

Live Classics 2018

Texts for learning by heart.

S. Silin Lucky

Antoshka was running down the street, with his hands in his jacket pockets, tripped and, falling, managed to think: “I’ll break my nose!” But he didn’t have time to take his hands out of his pockets.
And suddenly, right in front of him, out of nowhere, a small, strong man the size of a cat appeared.
The man stretched out his arms and took Antoshka on them, softening the blow.
Antoshka rolled onto his side, got up on one knee and looked at the peasant in surprise:
- Who are you?
- Lucky.
-Who-who?
- Lucky. I will make sure that you are lucky.
– Does every person have a lucky person? – Antoshka asked.
“No, there aren’t that many of us,” the man answered. “We just go from one to the other.” From today I will be with you.
- I'm starting to get lucky! – Antoshka was delighted.
- Exactly! – Lucky nodded.
– When will you leave me for someone else?
- When necessary. I remember I served one merchant for several years. And one pedestrian was helped for only two seconds.
- Yeah! - Antoshka thought. - So I need
anything to wish?
- No no! – the man raised his hands in protest. - I am not a wish-granter! I just give a little help to the smart and hardworking. I just stay nearby and make sure the person is lucky. Where did my invisibility cap go?
He groped around with his hands, felt for the invisibility cap, put it on and disappeared.
- Are you here? – just in case, Antoshka asked.
“Here, here,” responded Lucky. - Don't mind
me attention. Antoshka put his hands in his pockets and ran home. And he was lucky: he made it to the beginning of the cartoon minute by minute!
An hour later my mother returned from work.
- And I received a prize! - she said with a smile. –
I'll go shopping!
And she went into the kitchen to get some bags.
– Mom got Lucky too? – Antoshka asked his assistant in a whisper.
- No. She's lucky because we're close.
- Mom, I'm with you! - Antoshka shouted.
Two hours later they returned home with a whole mountain of purchases.
- Just a streak of luck! – Mom was surprised, her eyes sparkling. “I’ve dreamed of a blouse like this all my life!”
– And I’m talking about such a cake! – Antoshka responded cheerfully from the bathroom.
The next day at school he received three A's, two B's, found two rubles and made peace with Vasya Poteryashkin.
And when he returned home whistling, he discovered that he had lost the keys to the apartment.
- Lucky, where are you? - he called.
A tiny, scruffy woman peeked out from under the stairs. Her hair was disheveled, her nose was torn, her dirty sleeve was torn, her shoes were asking for porridge.
- You shouldn’t have whistled! – she smiled and added: – I’m unlucky! What, you're upset, right?..
Don't worry, don't worry! The time will come, they will call me away from you!
“I see,” Antoshka said despondently. - A streak of bad luck begins...
- That's for sure! – Bad luck nodded joyfully and, stepping into the wall, disappeared.
In the evening, Antoshka received a scolding from his dad for losing his key, accidentally broke his mother’s favorite cup, forgot what he was assigned in Russian, and couldn’t finish reading a book of fairy tales because he left it at school.
And just in front of the window the phone rang:
- Antoshka, is that you? It's me, Lucky!
- Hello, traitor! - Antoshka muttered. - And who are you helping now?
But Lucky wasn’t the least bit offended by the “traitor.”
- To an old lady. Can you imagine, she had bad luck all her life! So my boss sent me to her.
Soon I will help her win a million rubles in the lottery, and I will return to you!
- Is it true? – Antoshka was delighted.
“True, true,” answered Lucky and hung up.
That night Antoshka had a dream. It’s as if she and Lucky are dragging four string bags of Antoshka’s favorite tangerines from the store, and from the window of the house opposite, a lonely old woman smiles at them, lucky for the first time in her life.

MM. Prishvin My notebooks.

A cook, a good, affectionate woman, Agrafena Ivanovna, began to come from Berendeyev to Botik; She never comes to the children empty-handed, and she always dresses cleanly, the children really appreciate this. She was a childless woman, she used to follow her husband like a child, but her husband went missing at the front. She cried, people consoled her: she was not the only one left in the world, and in public even death is red.

This childless widow in the orphanage on Botik really fell in love with one girl, Valya - small, slender, with an always surprised face, like a young goat. Agrafena Ivanovna began to take separate walks with this girl, told her fairy tales, consoled herself with her, of course, as if she were a daughter, and little by little she began to think about whether she really should take her as her daughter forever. Fortunately for Agrafena Ivanovna, little Valya, after her illness, completely forgot her past in Leningrad, and where she lived there, and who her mother was and who her father was. All the teachers unanimously assured that there was no case when Valya even once remembered anything from her past.

Just look, they said, at her face, she’s either surprised by something, or she’s listening, or she’s remembering. She is sure that you are her real mother. Take it and be happy.

That’s why I’m afraid,” answered Agrafena Ivanovna, “that she’s surprised and seems to be trying to remember something; I’ll take her, and she’ll suddenly remember, what then?

Having thought carefully and weighed everything, the widow was about to decide to take Valya as her consolation, but during the registration an obstacle suddenly appeared. Although everyone in the orphanage was sure that Valya’s father had died, the soldiers who arrived from the front also spoke about this: he died before their eyes, but there was no certificate of death, which means that according to the law it was impossible to give up the girl.

Take it, they told her, conditionally, when her father comes, return it.

“He’ll joke to you,” Agrafena Ivanovna answered, “it’s scary to take your daughter like that, you’ll keep thinking that the time will come and they’ll take it away: no, what’s there to do, take it, take it, and so what’s there!”

After these words, the cook remained strong for a whole month and did not look at Botik. But, of course, at home, in her yellow house in Berendeev, she missed her daughter, cried, and the girl also could not be consoled by anything: her mother abandoned her! And when the cook couldn’t stand it and came again with big gifts - that was the meeting! And again everyone tried to persuade me to take it conditionally, and again Agrafena Ivanovna stubbornly repeated her words:

Take it like that, or else take it like that.

This lasted for two months. In August, a paper arrived about the death of Valya’s father, and Agrafena Ivanovna took her daughter to Berendeevo. Who will be seduced by the red-haired, faded house with three windows facing the mists of the Berendeyev swamp! It’s not nice to anyone from the outside, but it’s so expensive for yourself! After all, everything here is made by the hands of your loved ones; here they were born, lived, died, and left memories of everything. The dog will be taken away from its mother, brought to someone else’s house, and then, sometimes, the pot-bellied kitten will look around with dull blue eyes, want to know something, and whine. And for Valya, the orphan girl, everything was a joy in the red house. Valya is drawn to everything, she is cheerful, as if she really came to her home to her real mother. Agrafena Ivanovna was very happy and, in order to show the girl her house just like paradise, she started a gramophone. Now there is a gramophone in Botik, but at the time when Valya was taken, the children there did not hear the gramophone at all, and Valya could not remember the gramophone at all. But the gramophone began to play, and the girl opened her eyes wide.

My nightingale, my nightingale, - the gramophone sang, - the vociferous nightingale...

The goat was surprised, listened, began to look around, recognize something, remember...

Where is the cell? - she suddenly asked.

What cell?

With a little bird. It was hanging here.

Before she had time to answer, Valya again:

There was a table here, and on it were my dolls...

Wait,” Agrafena Ivanovna remembered, “now I’ll get them.”

I took my good doll out of the chest.

This is not the one, not mine!! And suddenly something sparkled in the little Goat’s eyes: at that moment, probably, the girl remembered everything about Leningrad.

Mom,” she screamed, “it’s not you!”

And she started pouring out. And the gramophone kept singing:

"My nightingale, nightingale."

When the record ended and the nightingale stopped singing, suddenly Agrafena Ivanovna remembered something of her own, screamed, began to wail, hit her head against the wall with a flourish and fell against the table. She would raise her head from the table, then drop it again, and moan and sob. This misfortune overpowered Valino’s grief, the girl hugs her, fiddles with her and repeats:

Mommy, honey, stop it! I remembered everything, I love you too, you are now my real mother.

And two women - big and small - hugging, understood each other as equals.

I. Pivovarova Note in the diary

The next day the first lesson was mathematics. Vera Evstigneevna was explaining something at the blackboard. And I sat at my desk and looked out the window. There, in the distance, between the trees, a red dog was running. I couldn’t make out whether she had a black spot on her back or not.

- Sinitsyna,” Vera Evstigneevna suddenly said, “where are you looking?” Repeat what I just said!

- You said: Sinitsyna, where are you looking?

Everyone laughed. Vera Evstigneevna frowned.

- I wonder,” she said, “what’s funny about it if a student doesn’t listen to the lesson and at the same time is rude to the teacher?! Sinitsyna, if I notice again that you are not listening to me, I will write you a note in my diary. Sit down!

I sat down and began to listen. I listened with all my might. I didn’t want to receive a remark in my diary at all. I didn’t take my eyes off Vera Evstigneevna. I even moved my lips, repeating her explanations to myself...

And Vera Evstigneevna stood at the blackboard and said:

- Let's take X and Y. If we add up the X's and the Y's, we get...

It will work out... We will succeed... Well, of course! Of course we can do it! We will definitely find him! Yes, he's probably walking around here somewhere. So brown all over, cute, one ear is white!.. Maybe he’s even sitting right now under this window...

And suddenly someone barked outside the window!

I jumped up on the spot and elbowed Lyuska in the side.

- Oh! - Lyuska screamed at the whole class. -Are you crazy?

- Kositsyna, what's the matter? - Vera Evstigneevna said slowly and separately.

I bent over the notebook and froze.

- “Lie something,” I muttered quietly through clenched teeth.

And Lyuska was already standing up at her desk, groaning and holding her left side with both hands, as if there was a huge wound there from which blood was flowing.

- She pushes herself, and she herself tells me to lie,” Lyuska said tearfully, drawing out her words. - Let her lie if she wants...

- “Yes,” said Vera Evstigneevna. - So, Sinitsyn again? Well, that's enough for today. Give me your diary, Sinitsyna! Hurry up, hurry up.

And a minute later, in my diary, on a clean green page, lined with stripes, a sweeping entry appeared:

"T. parents! In view of your daughter’s disgraceful behavior in class, I ask you to come to school for a conversation.”

Ilya Ilf, Evgeny Petrov Honesty

When citizen Udobnikov was walking to the pub on his personal business, a coat with a dog collar fell on top of him.

Udobnikov looked at the coat, then at the sky, and finally his gaze settled on a large house dotted with many windows and balconies.

“It must have been a coat that fell off the floor,” citizen Udobnikov realized quite correctly.

But it was impossible to understand from which floor, from which balcony the coat fell.

“Damn them, the Stoeros tenants,” Udobnikov said out loud. - They throw their dog fur coats, and you pick them up!

And, throwing his coat over his arm, Udobnikov quickly walked...

Udobnikov did not even go into the first floor. It was clear to him that the coat could not have fallen from there.

And he began to walk around the apartments from the second floor.

“Sorry,” he said in apartment No. 3. “Isn’t this your coat?” I was going, you know, on a personal matter, and it fell on me. Not yours? Sorry, sorry!

“Well, citizens,” he ranted in apartment No. 12. “I could have taken the coat.” But he didn’t take it away! And the residents, at least you, for example, could say: “Yes, our little coat. Thank you, unknown citizen!” But they didn’t say. Why? Honesty! Justice! I won’t give up what’s mine and I won’t take someone else’s. Well, I’ll move on, although I’m busy with personal matters. I'll go.

And the higher he rose, the warmer his soul became. He was touched by his own selflessness.

And finally the solemn moment came. The coat in apartment No. 29 was identified. The owner of the coat, apparently struck by Udobnikov’s integrity, was silent for a minute, and then began to sob with happiness.
“Oh my God,” he said through tears. – There are still honest people!
“Not without that, there are,” Udobnikov said modestly. “Of course, I could have taken your fur coat.” But he didn’t take it away! And why? Honesty is stuck. What a fur coat! Yes, if you had dropped the diamond or dropped the money, wouldn’t I have brought it? I would bring it!
The children surrounded Udobnikov, exclaiming:
- Honest uncle has come!
And they sang in chorus:
At you, our honest uncle,
We must learn by looking.
Then the hostess came out and shyly invited Udobnikov to the table.
“Let’s drink a glass,” said the owner, “Sevastopol style.”
“Sorry, I don’t use it,” Udobnikov answered. - I don’t want cups of tea!
And he drank tea, and talked about his honesty, and enjoyed his own virtue.
This would be the case if citizen Udobnikov really gave back the coat that fell on him. But he took the coat, sold it and, sitting drunk in a pub, came up with this whole touching story.

And tears rolled down his face, which could have been honest.

B. L. Vasiliev “Not on the lists”

When Pluzhnikov ran upstairs - into the very center of the unfamiliar, blazing fortress - the artillery shelling continued, but there was some slowdown in its rhythm: the Germans began to move the barrage of fire beyond the outer contours. The shells still continued to fall, but they were no longer falling haphazardly, but in strictly planned squares, and therefore Pluzhnikov had time to look around.

Everything around was burning. The ring barracks, houses near the church, and garages on the bank of Mukhavets were on fire. Cars in parking lots, booths and temporary buildings, shops, warehouses, vegetable stores were burning - everything that could burn was burning, and everything that could not was burning, too, and half-naked people were rushing about in the roar of the flames, in the roar of explosions and the grinding of burning iron.

And the horses were still screaming. They were screaming somewhere very close, at the hitching post, behind Pluzhnikov, and this unusual, non-animal scream was now drowning out everything else: even the creepy, inhuman things that occasionally came from the burning garages. There, in oil-soaked and petrol-filled rooms with strong bars on the windows, people were burning alive at that hour.

Pluzhnikov did not know the fortress. He and the girl walked in the dark, and now this fortress appeared before him in shell bursts, smoke and flame. Having looked closely, he had difficulty identifying the three-arched gate and decided to run towards it, because the person on duty at the checkpoint had to remember him and explain where to go now. And it was simply necessary to appear somewhere, to report to someone.

And Pluzhnikov ran to the gate, jumping over craters and rubble of earth and brick and covering the back of his head with both hands. Precisely the back of his head: it was unbearable to imagine that at any moment a jagged and red-hot shell fragment could be pierced into his neatly trimmed and so defenseless back of his head. And so he ran clumsily, balancing his body, strangely clasping his hands at the back of his head and stumbling.

He did not hear the tight roar of a shell: this roar came later. He felt the approach of something merciless with his whole back and, without removing his hands from the back of his head, fell face down into the nearest crater. In a matter of moments before the explosion, he buried himself in the dry, stubborn sand with his arms, legs, and whole body, like a crab. And then again he did not hear the burst, but felt that he was suddenly pressed into the sand with terrible force, pressed so much that he could not breathe, but only writhed under this oppression, gasping for breath, gasping for air and not finding it in the sudden darkness. And then something heavy, but quite real, fell on his back, finally extinguishing both his attempts to take a breath of air and the remnants of his torn consciousness into shreds.

But he woke up quickly: he was healthy and fiercely wanted to live. I woke up with a crippling headache, bitterness in my chest and almost complete silence. At first, still vaguely, still coming to his senses, he thought that the shelling had ended, but then he realized that he simply couldn’t hear anything. And this did not frighten him at all; he crawled out from under the sand that had covered him and sat down, all the while spitting out blood and the sand that crunched disgustingly on his teeth.

“An explosion,” he thought diligently, struggling to find words. - That warehouse must have collapsed. And the foreman, and the girl with the lame leg..."

He thought about it heavily and indifferently, as if about something very distant in both time and space, he tried to remember where and why he had fled, but his head still wouldn’t obey. And he just sat at the bottom of the crater, swaying monotonously, spitting out bloody sand and could not understand why and why he was sitting there.

V. Kondratyev Sashka

The German shuddered at the sound of the bolt being cocked and walked away, at first often turning to Sashka, apparently afraid that he might shoot him in the back. Sashka understood this and said instructively:

What are you afraid of? We are not you. We do not shoot prisoners.

We,” he hit himself in the chest, “niht shissen you,” he pointed his finger at the German. - Ferstein?

Only the battalion commander’s voice was heard from the dugout, but it was as if the German was not there. Silent, infection! Why is he silent? He would have told everything, laid it out honestly, and the captain would have let him go. Stubborn German. Sashka became angry with him - all his plans went to waste because of him, the bastard.

Finally it became quiet in the dugout and the silence stretched on... Sashka had already managed to smoke half a cigarette, but not a word came from there. The battalion commander is thinking about something...

To me! - a voice split the silence of the captains.

And Sashka and the orderly, instantly flying down the stairs, found themselves again in the semi-darkness of the dugout.

The yellow light of the kerosene lamp illuminated the captain from the side, sharply defining the wrinkles around his lips and the straight crease at the bridge of his nose. A Russian-German phrase book lay on the table and the captains pistol gleamed ominously with the blued metal of the captains. The German stood in the shadows, and when Sashka, passing forward, touched his shoulder, he felt the German tremble.

The captain had nodules on his cheekbones and his hands played. He stood - big, in an overcoat that had fallen off one shoulder and therefore somehow lopsided, strangely unlike his former self, straight and collected. He sat down heavily on a stool, wiping sweat from his forehead and at the same time throwing back his hair, and quietly, as if through force, squeezed out:

The German is a waste.

Sashka’s eyes darkened and everything around him swam - the walls of the dugout, the lamp, and the battalion commander’s face, even Sashka swayed... But then, coming to his senses, he rushed to the German, grabbed him by the chest and shouted:

Speak up, you bastard! Speak! They will kill! Understand? Tell me what the captain is asking! Speak up, infection!

The German, limp and motionless, just shook his head and bit his lip.

Do not understand? There will be shissen! Shisen for you! Speak...

How many people did you have in your company? - asked the captain, staring at Sashka with a hard look.

One hundred and fifty, comrade captain.

How much is left?

Sixteen...

And you bastard regret this? - the captain barked, switching to “you”.

I... I... don’t regret... - Sashka’s mouth was swollen, his lips were numb, and he could barely squeeze out words.

And he told a lie. He felt sorry for the German. Maybe he didn’t regret it so much as he couldn’t imagine how it would be to take him somewhere... They probably had to go to the wall (he read in stories about the civil war that people were always taken to the wall to shoot), and he would shoot at an unarmed, helpless person. .. Sashka saw a lot, a lot of death during this time - if you live to be a hundred years old, you won’t see so much - but the value of human life did not diminish from this in his mind, and he stammered:

I can’t, comrade captain... Well, I can’t... I gave him my word, already realizing that his words were of no use, that the captain would still force his captain to carry out his order, because in war they are on the front line and the order of the chief is law.

I'm waiting! - the captain shouted and put his palm on the handle of the TT.

The orderly pulled Sashka even harder, and Sashka, already exhausted by this unequal duel, whispered barely audibly:

There is a German - a waste...

I can not hear! - interrupted the captain.

“If you have a German, you’re a waste,” Sashka repeated louder.

Report on completion!

Report on completion...

Now first and properly!

Eating a German is a waste. Report on completion.

Do it! - The captain turned away from Sashka and sat down.

The German jumped up again, and Sashka had to accept his gaze, but it would be better not to see... Darkened eyes and torment in them: why are you holding out, why are you exhausting your soul? An order is an order, nothing can be done about it, finish quickly...

And then some scream was heard from Chernov. Sashka turned around and froze - the tall figure of the battalion commander loomed in the distance, walking with an even, unhurried step straight towards them, and next to him was the orderly Tolik, now running across the captain, now matching him. He was shouting something, probably calling for Sashka.

Already on the move, stopping for a moment, the battalion commander turned to Sashka and said:

Take the German to brigade headquarters. I cancel my order.

Sashka hesitated to answer “yes”, everything began to spin, and he almost sank next to the charred logs, feeling how the iron hoop that had been tightening his head all this time began to gradually weaken and finally let go completely.

A.P. Chekhov My “she”

She, as my parents and bosses authoritatively claim, was born before me. Whether they are right or wrong, I only know that I do not remember a single day in my life when I did not belong to her and did not feel her power over me. She does not leave me day and night; I, too, do not show any desire to run away from her - the connection, therefore, is strong, lasting... But do not envy, young reader!.. This touching connection brings me nothing but misfortunes. Firstly, my “she”, without leaving me day and night, does not allow me to do my work. She prevents me from reading, writing, walking, enjoying nature... I am writing these lines, and she pushes me by the elbow and every second, like the ancient Cleopatra of no less ancient Anthony, beckons me to the bed. Secondly, she ruins me like a French cocotte. For her affection, I sacrificed everything to her: career, fame, comfort... By her grace, I go naked, live in a cheap room, eat nonsense, write in pale ink. Everything, everything, she devours, insatiable! I hate her, I despise her... It would be time to divorce her long ago, but I still haven’t gotten a divorce, not because Moscow lawyers charge four thousand for a divorce... We don’t have children yet... Do you want to know her name? If you please... It is poetic and reminiscent of Lilya, Lelya, Nellie...

“Development of the quality of education” - Problems of the emergence of municipal (state) tasks. The school may receive multiple assignments. Key models. How we finance and how we spend funds. Calculation of the regional per capita funding standard for educational institutions. Distance education. How municipalities do not provide funds to schools. Federal State Educational Standard.

“Education Effectiveness” - Problems of equality in education. Introduction of new programs. The problem of equality. Consortium of European Research Institutes. International ratings. Efficiency in education. Total costs of education in France. Sociology of education. The concept of "efficiency". Internal efficiency of education.

“Quality of graduate education” - Control measuring materials - 2012. 1. Scheduled and unscheduled inspections according to the State Educational Inspectorate 2. State accreditation 3. State (final) certification of graduates of grades 9 and 11. Comparison of the proportion of participants who did not overcome the minimum limit in compulsory subjects (over 3 years). G(I)A graduates of 9th grade in 2012.

“Improving the quality of education” - Volumes and sources of financing of the Program are carried out: - at the expense of the budget (federal, regional, municipal - 80%; - at the expense of extra-budgetary sources (sponsorship and charitable assistance) - 20%. Creation of a didactic and methodological system for the formation creative and intellectual capabilities of students.

“Improving the quality of education” - Educational and cognitive competencies. Main components of competence. General cultural competencies. Personal self-improvement competencies. Formation of communicative competencies. Rules for the teacher. Introduction of innovation. Ways to develop students' competencies. Key educational competencies.

“Quality of student knowledge” - Quality of student knowledge over 3 years. The quality of knowledge of students in primary schools in the district. Comparative characteristics of the quality of knowledge of students in urban secondary schools. The quality of knowledge of senior students of grades 10-11. in 3 years. A comparative indicator of the quality of knowledge of students in the Gavrilovo-Posad district and region.

There are 12 presentations in total

Excerpt from the story
Chapter II

My mommy

I had a mother, affectionate, kind, sweet. My mother and I lived in a small house on the banks of the Volga. The house was so clean and bright, and from the windows of our apartment we could see the wide, beautiful Volga, and huge two-story steamships, and barges, and a pier on the shore, and crowds of people walking who came out to this pier at certain hours to meet the arriving ships... And mommy and I went there, only rarely, very rarely: mommy gave lessons in our city, and she was not allowed to walk with me as often as I would like. Mommy said:

Wait, Lenusha, I’ll save up some money and take you along the Volga from our Rybinsk all the way to Astrakhan! Then we'll have a blast.
I was happy and waiting for spring.
By spring, mommy had saved up some money, and we decided to carry out our idea on the first warm days.
- As soon as the Volga is cleared of ice, you and I will go for a ride! - Mommy said, affectionately stroking my head.
But when the ice broke, she caught a cold and began to cough. The ice passed, the Volga cleared, but mommy coughed and coughed endlessly. She suddenly became thin and transparent, like wax, and she kept sitting by the window, looking at the Volga and repeating:
“The cough will go away, I’ll get better a little, and you and I will ride to Astrakhan, Lenusha!”
But the cough and cold did not go away; The summer was damp and cold this year, and every day mommy became thinner, paler and more transparent.
Autumn has come. September has arrived. Long lines of cranes stretched over the Volga, flying to warm countries. Mommy no longer sat by the window in the living room, but lay on the bed and shivered all the time from the cold, while she herself was hot as fire.
Once she called me over and said:
- Listen, Lenusha. Your mother will soon leave you forever... But don’t worry, dear. I will always look at you from heaven and will rejoice at the good deeds of my girl, and...
I didn’t let her finish and cried bitterly. And mommy started crying too, and her eyes became sad, sad, just like those of the angel I saw on the big icon in our church.
Having calmed down a little, mommy spoke again:
- I feel that the Lord will soon take me to Himself, and may His holy will be done! Be a good girl without a mother, pray to God and remember me... You will go to live with your uncle, my brother, who lives in St. Petersburg... I wrote to him about you and asked him to shelter an orphan...
Something painfully painful when hearing the word “orphan” squeezed my throat...
I began to sob, cry and huddle by my mother’s bed. Maryushka (the cook who lived with us for nine years, from the very year I was born, and who loved mommy and me madly) came and took me to her place, saying that “mama needs peace.”
I fell asleep in tears that night on Maryushka’s bed, and in the morning... Oh, what happened in the morning!..
I woke up very early, I think around six o’clock, and wanted to run straight to mommy.
At that moment Maryushka came in and said:
- Pray to God, Lenochka: God took your mother to him. Your mom died.
- Mommy died! - I repeated like an echo.
And suddenly I felt so cold, cold! Then there was a noise in my head, and the whole room, and Maryushka, and the ceiling, and the table, and the chairs - everything turned over and began to spin before my eyes, and I no longer remember what happened to me after this. I think I fell on the floor unconscious...
I woke up when my mother was already lying in a large white box, in a white dress, with a white wreath on her head. An old gray-haired priest read prayers, the singers sang, and Maryushka prayed at the threshold of the bedroom. Some old women came and also prayed, then looked at me with regret, shook their heads and mumbled something with their toothless mouths...
- Orphan! Orphan! - Also shaking her head and looking at me pitifully, Maryushka said and cried. The old women also cried...
On the third day, Maryushka took me to the white box in which Mommy was lying, and told me to kiss Mommy’s hand. Then the priest blessed mommy, the singers sang something very sad; some men came up, closed the white box and carried it out of our house...
I cried loudly. But then old women I already knew arrived, saying that they were going to bury my mother and that there was no need to cry, but to pray.
The white box was brought to the church, we held mass, and then some people came up again, picked up the box and carried it to the cemetery. A deep black hole had already been dug there, into which mother’s coffin was lowered. Then they covered the hole with earth, placed a white cross over it, and Maryushka led me home.
On the way, she told me that in the evening she would take me to the station, put me on a train and send me to St. Petersburg to see my uncle.
“I don’t want to go to my uncle,” I said gloomily, “I don’t know any uncle and I’m afraid to go to him!”
But Maryushka said that it was a shame to tell the big girl like that, that mommy heard it and that my words hurt her.
Then I became quiet and began to remember my uncle’s face.
I never saw my St. Petersburg uncle, but there was a portrait of him in my mother’s album. He was depicted on it in a gold embroidered uniform, with many orders and with a star on his chest. He looked very important, and I was involuntarily afraid of him.
After dinner, which I barely touched, Maryushka packed all my dresses and underwear into an old suitcase, gave me tea and took me to the station.

Lydia Charskaya
NOTES OF A LITTLE GYMNASIUM STUDENT

Excerpt from the story
Chapter XXI
To the sound of the wind and the whistle of a snowstorm

The wind whistled, screeched, groaned and hummed in different ways. Either in a plaintive thin voice, or in a rough bass rumble, he sang his battle song. The lanterns flickered barely noticeably through the huge white flakes of snow that fell abundantly on the sidewalks, on the street, on carriages, horses and passers-by. And I kept walking and walking, forward and forward...
Nyurochka told me:
“You first have to go through a long, big street, where there are such tall houses and luxurious shops, then turn right, then left, then right again and left again, and then everything is straight, straight to the very end - to our house. You will recognize it right away. It’s near the cemetery, there’s also a white church... so beautiful.”
I did so. I walked straight, as it seemed to me, along a long and wide street, but I didn’t see any tall houses or luxury shops. Everything was obscured from my eyes by a white, shroud-like, living, loose wall of silently falling huge flakes of snow. I turned right, then left, then right again, doing everything with precision, as Nyurochka told me - and I kept walking, walking, walking endlessly.
The wind mercilessly ruffled the flaps of my burnusik, piercing me through and through with cold. Snow flakes hit my face. Now I was no longer walking as fast as before. My legs felt like they were filled with lead from fatigue, my whole body was shaking from the cold, my hands were numb, and I could barely move my fingers. Having turned right and left almost for the fifth time, I now went along the straight path. The quiet, barely noticeable flickering lights of lanterns came across me less and less often... The noise from the riding of horse-drawn horses and carriages in the streets died down significantly, and the path along which I walked seemed dull and deserted to me.
Finally the snow began to thin out; huge flakes did not fall so often now. The distance cleared up a little, but instead there was such a thick twilight all around me that I could barely make out the road.
Now neither the noise of driving, nor voices, nor the coachman's exclamations could be heard around me.
What silence! What dead silence!..
But what is it?
My eyes, already accustomed to the semi-darkness, now discern the surroundings. Lord, where am I?
No houses, no streets, no carriages, no pedestrians. In front of me is an endless, huge expanse of snow... Some forgotten buildings along the edges of the road... Some fences, and in front of me is something black, huge. It must be a park or a forest - I don’t know.
I turned back... Lights were flashing behind me... lights... lights... There were so many of them! Without end... without counting!
- Lord, this is a city! The city, of course! - I exclaim. - And I went to the outskirts...
Nyurochka said that they live on the outskirts. Yes of course! What darkens in the distance is the cemetery! There is a church there, and, just a short distance away, their house! Everything, everything turned out just as she said. But I was scared! What a stupid thing!
And with joyful inspiration I again walked forward vigorously.
But it was not there!
My legs could hardly obey me now. I could barely move them from fatigue. The incredible cold made me tremble from head to toe, my teeth chattered, there was a noise in my head, and something hit my temples with all its might. Added to all this was some strange drowsiness. I wanted to sleep so badly, I wanted to sleep so badly!
“Well, well, a little more - and you will be with your friends, you will see Nikifor Matveyevich, Nyura, their mother, Seryozha!” - I mentally encouraged myself as best I could...
But this didn’t help either.
My legs could barely move, and now I had difficulty pulling them, first one, then the other, out of the deep snow. But they move more and more slowly, more and more quietly... And the noise in my head becomes more and more audible, and something hits my temples stronger and stronger...
Finally, I can’t stand it and fall onto a snowdrift that has formed on the edge of the road.
Oh, how good! How sweet it is to relax like this! Now I don’t feel tired or pain... Some kind of pleasant warmth spreads throughout my whole body... Oh, how good! I could just sit here and never leave! And if it weren’t for the desire to find out what happened to Nikifor Matveyevich, and to visit him, healthy or sick, I would certainly fall asleep here for an hour or two... I fell asleep soundly! Moreover, the cemetery is not far away... You can see it there. A mile or two, no more...
The snow stopped falling, the blizzard subsided a little, and the month emerged from behind the clouds.
Oh, it would be better if the moon didn’t shine and at least I wouldn’t know the sad reality!
No cemetery, no church, no houses - there is nothing ahead!.. Only the forest turns black like a huge black spot there in the distance, and the white dead field spreads around me like an endless veil...
Horror overwhelmed me.
Now I just realized that I was lost.

Lev Tolstoy

Swans

The swans flew in a herd from the cold side to the warm lands. They flew across the sea. They flew day and night, and another day and another night, without resting, they flew over the water. There was a full month in the sky, and the swans saw blue water far below them. All the swans were exhausted, flapping their wings; but they did not stop and flew on. Old, strong swans flew in front, and those who were younger and weaker flew behind. One young swan flew behind everyone. His strength weakened. He flapped his wings and could not fly any further. Then he, spreading his wings, went down. He descended closer and closer to the water; and his comrades further and further became whiter in the monthly light. The swan descended onto the water and folded its wings. The sea rose beneath him and rocked him. A flock of swans was barely visible as a white line in the light sky. And in the silence you could barely hear the sound of their wings ringing. When they were completely out of sight, the swan bent its neck back and closed its eyes. He did not move, and only the sea, rising and falling in a wide strip, raised and lowered him. Before dawn, a light breeze began to sway the sea. And the water splashed into the white chest of the swan. The swan opened his eyes. The dawn reddened in the east, and the moon and stars became paler. The swan sighed, stretched out its neck and flapped its wings, rose up and flew, clinging to the water with its wings. He rose higher and higher and flew alone over the dark, rippling waves.

Paulo Coelho
Parable "The Secret of Happiness"

One merchant sent his son to learn the Secret of Happiness from the wisest of all people. The young man walked forty days through the desert and
Finally, he came to a beautiful castle that stood on the top of the mountain. There lived the sage whom he was looking for. However, instead of the expected meeting with a wise man, our hero found himself in a hall where everything was seething: merchants were coming in and out, people were talking in the corner, a small orchestra was playing sweet melodies and there was a table laden with the most exquisite dishes of the area. The sage talked with different people, and the young man had to wait about two hours for his turn.
The sage listened carefully to the young man's explanations about the purpose of his visit, but said in response that he did not have time to reveal to him the Secret of Happiness. And he invited him to take a walk around the palace and come again in two hours.
“However, I want to ask for one favor,” the sage added, handing the young man a small spoon into which he dropped two drops of oil. — Keep this spoon in your hand the entire time you walk so that the oil does not spill out.
The young man began to go up and down the palace stairs, not taking his eyes off the spoon. Two hours later he returned to the sage.
“Well,” he asked, “have you seen the Persian carpets that are in my dining room?” Have you seen the park that the head gardener took ten years to create? Have you noticed the beautiful parchments in my library?
The young man, embarrassed, had to admit that he did not see anything. His only concern was not to spill the drops of oil that the sage entrusted to him.
“Well, come back and get acquainted with the wonders of my Universe,” the sage told him. “You can’t trust a person if you don’t know the house in which he lives.”
Reassured, the young man took the spoon and again went for a walk around the palace; this time, paying attention to all the works of art hanging on the walls and ceilings of the palace. He saw gardens surrounded by mountains, the most delicate flowers, the sophistication with which each piece of art was placed exactly where it was needed.
Returning to the sage, he described in detail everything he saw.
- Where are the two drops of oil that I entrusted to you? - asked the Sage.
And the young man, looking at the spoon, discovered that all the oil had poured out.
- This is the only advice I can give you: The secret of Happiness is to look at all the wonders of the world, while never forgetting about two drops of oil in your spoon.

Leonardo da Vinci
Parable "NEVOD"

And once again the seine brought a rich catch. The fishermen's baskets were filled to the brim with chubs, carp, tench, pike, eels and a variety of other food items. Whole fish families
with their children and household members, were taken to market stalls and prepared to end their existence, writhing in agony on hot frying pans and in boiling cauldrons.
The remaining fish in the river, confused and overcome with fear, not even daring to swim, buried themselves deeper in the mud. How to live further? You can't handle the net alone. He is abandoned every day in the most unexpected places. He mercilessly destroys the fish, and eventually the entire river will be devastated.
- We must think about the fate of our children. No one but us will take care of them and deliver them from this terrible obsession,” reasoned the minnows who had gathered for a council under a large snag.
“But what can we do?” the tench asked timidly, listening to the speeches of the daredevils.
- Destroy the seine! - the minnows responded in unison. On the same day, the all-knowing nimble eels spread the news along the river
about making a bold decision. All fish, young and old, were invited to gather tomorrow at dawn in a deep, quiet pool, protected by spreading willows.
Thousands of fish of all colors and ages swam to the appointed place to declare war on the net.
- Listen carefully, everyone! - said the carp, which more than once managed to gnaw through the nets and escape from captivity. “The net is as wide as our river.” To keep it upright under water, lead weights are attached to its lower nodes. I order all the fish to split into two schools. The first should lift the sinkers from the bottom to the surface, and the second flock will firmly hold the upper nodes of the net. The pikes are tasked with chewing through the ropes with which the net is attached to both banks.
With bated breath, the fish listened to every word of their leader.
- I order the eels to immediately go on reconnaissance! - continued the carp. - They must establish where the net is thrown.
The eels went on a mission, and schools of fish huddled near the shore in agonizing anticipation. Meanwhile, the minnows tried to encourage the most timid and advised not to panic, even if someone fell into the net: after all, the fishermen would still not be able to pull him ashore.
Finally the eels returned and reported that the net had already been abandoned about a mile down the river.
And so, in a huge armada, schools of fish swam to the goal, led by the wise carp.
“Swim carefully!” the leader warned. “Keep your eyes open so that the current doesn’t drag you into the net.” Use your fins as hard as you can and brake on time!
A seine appeared ahead, gray and ominous. Seized by a fit of anger, the fish boldly rushed to attack.
Soon the seine was lifted from the bottom, the ropes holding it were cut by sharp pike teeth, and the knots were torn. But the angry fish did not calm down and continued to attack the hated enemy. Grasping the crippled, leaky net with their teeth and working hard with their fins and tails, they dragged it in different directions and tore it into small pieces. The water in the river seemed to be boiling.
The fishermen spent a long time scratching their heads about the mysterious disappearance of the net, and the fish still proudly tell this story to their children.

Leonardo da Vinci
Parable "PELICAN"
As soon as the pelican went in search of food, the viper sitting in ambush immediately crawled, stealthily, to its nest. The fluffy chicks slept peacefully, not knowing anything. The snake crawled close to them. Her eyes sparkled with an ominous gleam - and the reprisal began.
Having received a fatal bite each, the serenely sleeping chicks never woke up.
Satisfied with what she had done, the villainess crawled into hiding to enjoy the bird’s grief to the fullest.
Soon the pelican returned from hunting. At the sight of the brutal massacre committed against the chicks, he burst into loud sobs, and all the inhabitants of the forest fell silent, shocked by the unheard-of cruelty.
“I have no life without you now!” lamented the unhappy father, looking at the dead children. “Let me die with you!”
And he began to tear his chest with his beak, right to the heart. Hot blood gushed out in streams from the open wound, sprinkling the lifeless chicks.
Losing his last strength, the dying pelican cast a farewell glance at the nest with the dead chicks and suddenly shuddered in surprise.
Oh miracle! His shed blood and parental love brought the dear chicks back to life, snatching them from the clutches of death. And then, happy, he gave up the ghost.

Lucky
Sergey Silin

Antoshka was running down the street, with his hands in his jacket pockets, tripped and, falling, managed to think: “I’ll break my nose!” But he didn’t have time to take his hands out of his pockets.
And suddenly, right in front of him, out of nowhere, a small, strong man the size of a cat appeared.
The man stretched out his arms and took Antoshka on them, softening the blow.
Antoshka rolled onto his side, got up on one knee and looked at the peasant in surprise:
- Who are you?
- Lucky.
-Who-who?
- Lucky. I will make sure that you are lucky.
- Does every person have a lucky person? - Antoshka asked.
“No, there aren’t that many of us,” the man answered. “We just go from one to the other.” From today I will be with you.
- I'm starting to get lucky! - Antoshka was happy.
- Exactly! - Lucky nodded.
- When will you leave me for someone else?
- When necessary. I remember I served one merchant for several years. And one pedestrian was helped for only two seconds.
- Yeah! - Antoshka thought. - So I need
anything to wish?
- No no! - The man raised his hands in protest. - I am not a wish-fulfiller! I just give a little help to the smart and hardworking. I just stay nearby and make sure the person is lucky. Where did my invisibility cap go?
He groped around with his hands, felt for the invisibility cap, put it on and disappeared.
- Are you here? - Antoshka asked, just in case.
“Here, here,” responded Lucky. - Don't mind
me attention. Antoshka put his hands in his pockets and ran home. And he was lucky: he made it to the beginning of the cartoon minute by minute!
An hour later my mother returned from work.
- And I received a prize! - she said with a smile. -
I'll go shopping!
And she went into the kitchen to get some bags.
- Mom got Lucky too? - Antoshka asked his assistant in a whisper.
- No. She's lucky because we're close.
- Mom, I'm with you! - Antoshka shouted.
Two hours later they returned home with a whole mountain of purchases.
- Just a streak of luck! - Mom was surprised, her eyes sparkling. - All my life I dreamed of such a blouse!
- And I’m talking about such a cake! - Antoshka responded cheerfully from the bathroom.
The next day at school he received three A's, two B's, found two rubles and made peace with Vasya Poteryashkin.
And when he returned home whistling, he discovered that he had lost the keys to the apartment.
- Lucky, where are you? - he called.
A tiny, scruffy woman peeked out from under the stairs. Her hair was disheveled, her nose was torn, her dirty sleeve was torn, her shoes were asking for porridge.
- There was no need to whistle! - she smiled and added: “I’m unlucky!” What, you're upset, right?..
Don't worry, don't worry! The time will come, they will call me away from you!
“I see,” Antoshka said sadly. - A streak of bad luck begins...
- That's for sure! - Bad luck nodded joyfully and, stepping into the wall, disappeared.
In the evening, Antoshka received a scolding from his dad for losing his key, accidentally broke his mother’s favorite cup, forgot what he was assigned in Russian, and couldn’t finish reading a book of fairy tales because he left it at school.
And just in front of the window the phone rang:
- Antoshka, is that you? It's me, Lucky!
- Hello, traitor! - Antoshka muttered. - And who are you helping now?
But Lucky wasn’t the least bit offended by the “traitor.”
- To an old lady. Can you imagine, she had bad luck all her life! So my boss sent me to her.
Soon I will help her win a million rubles in the lottery, and I will return to you!
- Is it true? - Antoshka was happy.
“True, true,” answered Lucky and hung up.
That night Antoshka had a dream. It’s as if she and Lucky are dragging four string bags of Antoshka’s favorite tangerines from the store, and from the window of the house opposite, a lonely old woman smiles at them, lucky for the first time in her life.

Charskaya Lidiya Alekseevna

Lucina's life

Princess Miguel

“Far, far away, at the very end of the world, there was a large, beautiful blue lake, similar in color to a huge sapphire. In the middle of this lake, on a green emerald island, among myrtle and wisteria, intertwined with green ivy and flexible vines, stood a high rock. On it stood a marble a palace, behind which there was a wonderful garden, fragrant with fragrance. It was a very special garden, which can only be found in fairy tales.

The owner of the island and the lands adjacent to it was the powerful king Ovar. And the king had a daughter, the beautiful Miguel, a princess, growing up in the palace...

A fairy tale floats and unfolds like a motley ribbon. A series of beautiful, fantastic pictures swirl before my spiritual gaze. Aunt Musya’s usually ringing voice is now reduced to a whisper. Mysterious and cozy in the green ivy gazebo. The lacy shadow of the trees and bushes surrounding her cast moving spots on the pretty face of the young storyteller. This fairy tale is my favorite. Since the day my dear nanny Fenya, who knew how to tell me so well about the girl Thumbelina, left us, I have listened with pleasure to the only fairy tale about Princess Miguel. I love my princess dearly, despite all her cruelty. Is it her fault, this green-eyed, soft pink and golden-haired princess, that when she was born, the fairies, instead of a heart, put a piece of diamond in her small childish breast? And that the direct consequence of this was the complete absence of pity in the princess’s soul. But how beautiful she was! Beautiful even in those moments when, with the movement of her tiny white hand, she sent people to a cruel death. Those people who accidentally ended up in the princess’s mysterious garden.

In that garden, among the roses and lilies, there were small children. Motionless pretty elves chained with silver chains to golden pegs, they guarded that garden, and at the same time they plaintively rang their bell-like voices.

Let us go free! Let go, beautiful princess Miguel! Let us go! - Their complaints sounded like music. And this music had a pleasant effect on the princess, and she often laughed at the pleas of her little captives.

But their plaintive voices touched the hearts of people passing by the garden. And they looked into the princess’s mysterious garden. Ah, it was no joy that they appeared here! With each such appearance of an uninvited guest, the guards ran out, grabbed the visitor and, on the orders of the princess, threw him into the lake from a cliff

And Princess Miguel laughed only in response to the desperate cries and groans of the drowning...

Even now I still cannot understand how my pretty, cheerful aunt came up with a fairy tale so terrible in essence, so gloomy and heavy! The heroine of this fairy tale, Princess Miguel, was, of course, an invention of the sweet, slightly flighty, but very kind Aunt Musya. Oh, it doesn’t matter, let everyone think that this fairy tale is a fiction, princess Miguel herself is a fiction, but she, my wondrous princess, is firmly entrenched in my impressionable heart... Whether she ever existed or not, what do I really care about? there was a time when I loved her, my beautiful cruel Miguel! I saw her in a dream more than once, I saw her golden hair the color of a ripe ear, her green, like a forest pool, deep eyes.

That year I turned six years old. I was already dismantling warehouses and, with the help of Aunt Musya, I wrote clumsy, lopsided letters instead of sticks. And I already understood beauty. The fabulous beauty of nature: sun, forest, flowers. And my eyes lit up with delight when I saw a beautiful picture or an elegant illustration on a magazine page.

Aunt Musya, dad and grandmother tried from my very early age to develop aesthetic taste in me, drawing my attention to what for other children passed without a trace.

Look, Lyusenka, what a beautiful sunset! You see how wonderfully the crimson sun sinks in the pond! Look, look, now the water has turned completely scarlet. And the surrounding trees seem to be on fire.

I look and seethe with delight. Indeed, scarlet water, scarlet trees and scarlet sun. What a beauty!

Yu.Yakovlev Girls from Vasilyevsky Island

I'm Valya Zaitseva from Vasilyevsky Island.

There is a hamster living under my bed. He will stuff his cheeks full, in reserve, sit on his hind legs and look with black buttons... Yesterday I beat one boy. I gave him a good bream. We, Vasileostrovsk girls, know how to stand up for ourselves when necessary...

It’s always windy here on Vasilyevsky. The rain is falling. Wet snow is falling. Floods happen. And our island floats like a ship: on the left is the Neva, on the right is the Nevka, in front is the open sea.

I have a friend - Tanya Savicheva. We are neighbors. She is from the Second Line, building 13. Four windows on the first floor. There is a bakery nearby, and a kerosene shop in the basement... Now there is no shop, but in Tanino, when I was not yet alive, there was always a smell of kerosene on the ground floor. They told me.

Tanya Savicheva was the same age as I am now. She could have grown up long ago and become a teacher, but she would forever remain a girl... When my grandmother sent Tanya to get kerosene, I was not there. And she went to the Rumyantsevsky Garden with another friend. But I know everything about her. They told me.

She was a songbird. She always sang. She wanted to recite poetry, but she stumbled over her words: she would stumble, and everyone would think that she had forgotten the right word. My friend sang because when you sing, you don't stutter. She couldn’t stutter, she was going to become a teacher, like Linda Augustovna.

She always played teacher. He will put a large grandmother's scarf on his shoulders, clasp his hands and walk from corner to corner. “Children, today we will review with you...” And then he stumbles on a word, blushes and turns to the wall, although there is no one in the room.

They say there are doctors who treat stuttering. I would find one like that. We, Vasileostrovsk girls, will find anyone you want! But now the doctor is no longer needed. She stayed there... my friend Tanya Savicheva. She was taken from besieged Leningrad to the mainland, and the road, called the Road of Life, could not give Tanya life.

The girl died of hunger... Does it matter whether you die from hunger or from a bullet? Maybe hunger hurts even more...

I decided to find the Road of Life. I went to Rzhevka, where this road begins. I walked two and a half kilometers - there the guys were building a monument to the children who died during the siege. I also wanted to build.

Some adults asked me:

- Who are you?

— I’m Valya Zaitseva from Vasilyevsky Island. I also want to build.

I was told:

- It is forbidden! Come with your area.

I didn't leave. I looked around and saw a baby, a tadpole. I grabbed it:

— Did he also come with his region?

- He came with his brother.

You can do it with your brother. With the region it is possible. But what about being alone?

I told them:

- You see, I don’t just want to build. I want to build for my friend... Tanya Savicheva.

They rolled their eyes. They didn't believe it. They asked again:

— Is Tanya Savicheva your friend?

-What's special here? We are the same age. Both are from Vasilyevsky Island.

- But she’s not there...

How stupid people are, and adults too! What does “no” mean if we are friends? I told them to understand:

- We have everything in common. Both the street and the school. We have a hamster. He'll stuff his cheeks...

I noticed that they didn't believe me. And so that they would believe, she blurted out:

“We even have the same handwriting!”

- Handwriting? - They were even more surprised.

- And what? Handwriting!

Suddenly they became cheerful because of the handwriting:

- This is very good! This is a real find. Come with us.

- I'm not going anywhere. I want to build...

- You will build! You will write for the monument in Tanya’s handwriting.

“I can,” I agreed. - Only I don’t have a pencil. Will you give it?

- You will write on concrete. You don't write on concrete with a pencil.

I've never written on concrete. I wrote on the walls, on the asphalt, but they brought me to the concrete plant and gave me Tanya’s diary - a notebook with the alphabet: a, b, c... I have the same book. For forty kopecks.

I picked up Tanya’s diary and opened the page. It was written there:

I felt cold. I wanted to give them the book and leave.

But I am Vasileostrovskaya. And if a friend’s older sister died, I should stay with her and not run away.

- Give me your concrete. I will write.

The crane lowered a huge frame of thick gray dough to my feet. I took a stick, squatted down and began to write. The concrete was cold. It was difficult to write. And they told me:

- Do not rush.

I made mistakes, smoothed the concrete with my palm and wrote again.

I didn't do well.

- Do not rush. Write calmly.

While I was writing about Zhenya, my grandmother died.

If you just want to eat, it’s not hunger - eat an hour later.

I tried fasting from morning to evening. I endured it. Hunger - when day after day your head, hands, heart - everything you have goes hungry. First he starves, then he dies.

Leka had his own corner, fenced off with cabinets, where he drew.

He earned money by drawing and studied. He was quiet and short-sighted, wore glasses, and kept creaking his pen. They told me.

Where did he die? Probably in the kitchen, where the potbelly stove smoked like a small weak locomotive, where they slept and ate bread once a day. A small piece is like a cure for death. Leka didn't have enough medicine...

“Write,” they told me quietly.

In the new frame, the concrete was liquid, it crawled onto the letters. And the word “died” disappeared. I didn't want to write it again. But they told me:

- Write, Valya Zaitseva, write.

And I wrote again - “died.”

I am very tired of writing the word “died”. I knew that with each page of Tanya Savicheva’s diary it was getting worse. She stopped singing a long time ago and did not notice that she stuttered. She no longer played teacher. But she didn’t give up - she lived. They told me... Spring has come. The trees have turned green. We have a lot of trees on Vasilyevsky. Tanya dried out, froze, became thin and light. Her hands were shaking and her eyes hurt from the sun. The Nazis killed half of Tanya Savicheva, and maybe more than half. But her mother was with her, and Tanya held on.

- Why don’t you write? - they told me quietly. - Write, Valya Zaitseva, otherwise the concrete will harden.

For a long time I did not dare to open a page with the letter “M”. On this page Tanya’s hand wrote: “Mom May 13 at 7.30 o’clock.

morning 1942." Tanya did not write the word “died”. She didn't have the strength to write the word.

I gripped the wand tightly and touched the concrete. I didn’t look in my diary, but wrote it by heart. It's good that we have the same handwriting.

I wrote with all my might. The concrete became thick, almost frozen. He no longer crawled onto the letters.

-Can you still write?

“I’ll finish writing,” I answered and turned away so that my eyes could not see. After all, Tanya Savicheva is my... friend.

Tanya and I are the same age, we, Vasileostrovsky girls, know how to stand up for ourselves when necessary. If she hadn’t been from Vasileostrovsk, from Leningrad, she wouldn’t have lasted so long. But she lived, which means she didn’t give up!

I opened page “C”. There were two words: “The Savichevs died.”

I opened the page “U” - “Everyone Died.” The last page of Tanya Savicheva’s diary began with the letter “O” - “There is only Tanya left.”

And I imagined that it was me, Valya Zaitseva, who was left alone: ​​without mom, without dad, without my sister Lyulka. Hungry. Under fire.

In an empty apartment on the Second Line. I wanted to cross out this last page, but the concrete hardened and the stick broke.

And suddenly I asked Tanya Savicheva to myself: “Why alone?

And I? You have a friend - Valya Zaitseva, your neighbor from Vasilyevsky Island. You and I will go to the Rumyantsevsky Garden, run around, and when you get tired, I’ll bring my grandmother’s scarf from home and we’ll play teacher Linda Augustovna. There is a hamster living under my bed. I'll give it to you for your birthday. Do you hear, Tanya Savicheva?”

Someone put his hand on my shoulder and said:

- Let's go, Valya Zaitseva. You did everything you needed to do. Thank you.

I didn’t understand why they were saying “thank you” to me. I said:

- I’ll come tomorrow... without my area. Can?

“Come without a district,” they told me. - Come.

My friend Tanya Savicheva did not shoot at the Nazis and was not a scout for the partisans. She simply lived in her hometown during the most difficult time. But perhaps the reason the Nazis did not enter Leningrad was because Tanya Savicheva lived there and there were many other girls and boys who remained forever in their time. And today’s guys are friends with them, just as I am friends with Tanya.

But they are only friends with the living.

Vladimir Zheleznyakov “Scarecrow”

A circle of their faces flashed in front of me, and I rushed around in it, like a squirrel in a wheel.

I should stop and leave.

The boys attacked me.

“For her legs! - Valka yelled. - For your legs!..”

They knocked me down and grabbed me by the legs and arms. I kicked and kicked as hard as I could, but they grabbed me and dragged me into the garden.

Iron Button and Shmakova dragged out a scarecrow mounted on a long stick. Dimka came out after them and stood to the side. The stuffed animal was in my dress, with my eyes, with my mouth from ear to ear. The legs were made of stockings stuffed with straw; instead of hair, there was tow and some feathers sticking out. On my neck, that is, the scarecrow, dangled a plaque with the words: “SCACHERY IS A TRAITOR.”

Lenka fell silent and somehow completely faded away.

Nikolai Nikolaevich realized that the limit of her story and the limit of her strength had come.

“And they were having fun around the stuffed animal,” said Lenka. - They jumped and laughed:

“Wow, our beauty-ah!”

“I waited!”

“I came up with an idea! I came up with an idea! — Shmakova jumped for joy. “Let Dimka light the fire!”

After these words from Shmakova, I completely stopped being afraid. I thought: if Dimka sets it on fire, then maybe I’ll just die.

And at this time Valka - he was the first in time everywhere - stuck the scarecrow into the ground and sprinkled brushwood around it.

“I don’t have matches,” Dimka said quietly.

“But I have it!” - Shaggy put matches in Dimka’s hand and pushed him towards the scarecrow.

Dimka stood near the scarecrow, his head bowed low.

I froze - I was waiting for the last time! Well, I thought he would look back and say: “Guys, Lenka is not to blame for anything... It’s all me!”

“Set it on fire!” - ordered the Iron Button.

I couldn’t stand it and screamed:

“Dimka! No need, Dimka-ah-ah!..”

And he was still standing near the scarecrow - I could see his back, he was hunched over and seemed somehow small. Maybe because the scarecrow was on a long stick. Only he was small and weak.

“Well, Somov! - said the Iron Button. “Finally, go to the end!”

Dimka fell to his knees and lowered his head so low that only his shoulders stuck out, and his head was not visible at all. It turned out to be some kind of headless arsonist. He struck a match and a flame of fire grew over his shoulders. Then he jumped up and hurriedly ran to the side.

They dragged me close to the fire. Without looking away, I looked at the flames of the fire. Grandfather! I felt then how this fire engulfed me, how it burned, baked and bit, although only waves of its heat reached me.

I screamed, I screamed so much that they let me out of surprise.

When they released me, I rushed to the fire and began to kick it around with my feet, grabbing the burning branches with my hands - I didn’t want the scarecrow to burn. For some reason I really didn’t want this!

Dimka was the first to come to his senses.

“Are you crazy? “He grabbed my hand and tried to pull me away from the fire. - This is a joke! Don’t you understand jokes?”

I became strong and easily defeated him. She pushed him so hard that he flew upside down - only his heels flashed towards the sky. And she pulled the scarecrow out of the fire and began waving it over her head, stepping on everyone. The scarecrow had already caught fire, sparks were flying from it in different directions, and they all shied away in fear from these sparks.

They ran away.

And I got so dizzy, driving them away, that I couldn’t stop until I fell. There was a stuffed animal lying next to me. It was scorched, fluttering in the wind and that made it look like it was alive.

At first I lay with my eyes closed. Then she felt that she smelled something burning and opened her eyes - the scarecrow’s dress was smoking. I slammed my hand down on the smoldering hem and leaned back onto the grass.

There was a crunch of branches, retreating footsteps, and then there was silence.

"Anne of Green Gables" by Lucy Maud Montgomery

It was already quite light when Anya woke up and sat up in bed, looking confusedly out the window through which a stream of joyful sunlight was pouring and behind which something white and fluffy was swaying against the background of the bright blue sky.

At first, she couldn't remember where she was. At first she felt a delightful thrill, as if something very pleasant had happened, then a terrible memory appeared. It was Green Gables, but they didn’t want to leave her here because she was not a boy!

But it was morning, and outside the window stood a cherry tree, all in bloom. Anya jumped out of bed and in one leap found herself at the window. Then she pushed the window frame - the frame gave way with a creak, as if it had not been opened for a long time, which, however, was in fact - and sank to her knees, peering into the June morning. Her eyes sparkled with delight. Ah, isn't this wonderful? Isn't this a lovely place? If only she could stay here! She will imagine herself staying. There is room for imagination here.

A huge cherry tree grew so close to the window that its branches touched the house. It was so densely strewn with flowers that not a single leaf was visible. On both sides of the house there were large gardens, on one side an apple tree, on the other a cherry tree, all in bloom. The grass under the trees seemed yellow from the blooming dandelions. A little further away in the garden one could see lilac bushes, all in clusters of bright purple flowers, and the morning breeze carried their dizzyingly sweet aroma to Anya’s window.

Further beyond the garden, green meadows covered with lush clover descended to a valley where a stream ran and many white birch trees grew, the slender trunks of which rose above the undergrowth, suggesting a wonderful holiday among ferns, mosses and forest grasses. Beyond the valley a hill could be seen, green and fluffy with spruce and fir trees. Among them there was a small gap, and through it one could see the gray mezzanine of the house that Anya had seen the day before from the other side of the Lake of Sparkling Waters.

To the left were large barns and other outbuildings, and beyond them green fields sloped down to the sparkling blue sea.

Anya’s eyes, receptive to beauty, slowly moved from one picture to another, greedily absorbing everything that was in front of her. The poor thing has seen so many ugly places in her life. But what was revealed to her now exceeded her wildest dreams.

She knelt, forgetting about everything in the world except the beauty that surrounded her, until she shuddered, feeling someone's hand on her shoulder. The little dreamer did not hear Marilla enter.

“It’s time to get dressed,” said Marilla shortly.

Marilla simply did not know how to talk to this child, and this ignorance, which was unpleasant to her, made her harsh and decisive against her will.

Anya stood up with a deep sigh.

- Ah. isn't it wonderful? - she asked, pointing her hand at the beautiful world outside the window.

“Yes, it’s a big tree,” said Marilla, “and it blooms profusely, but the cherries themselves are no good—small and wormy.”

- Oh, I'm not just talking about the tree; of course, it is beautiful... yes, it is dazzlingly beautiful... it blooms as if it were extremely important for itself... But I meant everything: the garden, and the trees, and the stream, and the forests - the whole big beautiful world. Don't you feel like you love the whole world on a morning like this? Even here I can hear the stream laughing in the distance. Have you ever noticed what joyful creatures these streams are? They always laugh. Even in winter I can hear their laughter from under the ice. I'm so glad there's a stream here near Green Gables. Maybe you think it doesn't matter to me since you don't want to leave me here? But that's not true. I will always be pleased to remember that there is a stream near Green Gables, even if I never see it again. If there had not been a stream here, I would always have been haunted by the unpleasant feeling that it should have been here. This morning I am not in the depths of grief. I am never in the depths of grief in the morning. Isn't it wonderful that there is morning? But I'm very sad. I just imagined that you still need me and that I will stay here forever, forever. It was a great comfort to imagine this. But the most unpleasant thing about imagining things is that there comes a moment when you have to stop imagining, and this is very painful.

“Better get dressed, go downstairs, and don’t think about your imaginary things,” said Marilla, as soon as she managed to get a word in edgewise. - Breakfast is waiting. Wash your face and comb your hair. Leave the window open and turn the bed around to air it out. And hurry up, please.

Anya obviously could act quickly when required, because within ten minutes she came downstairs, neatly dressed, with her hair combed and braided, her face washed; At the same time, her soul was filled with the pleasant consciousness that she had fulfilled all of Marilla’s demands. However, in fairness, it should be noted that she still forgot to open the bed for airing.

“I’m very hungry today,” she announced, slipping into the chair indicated to her by Marilla. “The world no longer seems as dark a desert as it did last night.” I'm so glad it's a sunny morning. However, I love rainy mornings too. Every morning is interesting, right? There is no telling what awaits us on this day, and there is so much left to the imagination. But I’m glad that it’s not raining today, because it’s easier not to be discouraged and to endure the vicissitudes of fate on a sunny day. I feel like I have a lot to endure today. It's very easy to read about other people's misfortunes and imagine that we too could heroically overcome them, but it's not so easy when we actually have to face them, right?

“For God's sake, hold your tongue,” said Marilla. “A little girl shouldn’t talk so much.”

After this remark, Anya fell completely silent, so obediently that her continued silence began to irritate Marilla somewhat, as if it were something not entirely natural. Matthew was also silent - but at least that was natural - so breakfast passed in complete silence.

As he neared the end, Anya became more and more distracted. She ate mechanically, and her large eyes were constantly, unseeingly looking at the sky outside the window. This irritated Marilla even more. She had an unpleasant feeling that while the body of this strange child was at the table, his spirit was soaring on the wings of fantasy in some transcendental land. Who would want to have such a child in the house?

And yet, what was most incomprehensible, Matthew wanted to leave her! Marilla felt that he wanted it this morning as much as he did last night, and that he intended to continue to want it. It was his usual way to get some whim into his head and cling to it with amazing silent tenacity - ten times more powerful and effective thanks to silence than if he talked about his desire from morning to evening.

When breakfast was over, Anya came out of her reverie and offered to wash the dishes.

— Do you know how to wash dishes properly? asked Marilla incredulously.

- Pretty good. True, I am better at babysitting children. I have a lot of experience in this matter. It's a pity that you don't have children here for me to take care of.

“But I wouldn’t want there to be any more children here than there are at the moment.” You alone are enough trouble. I can't imagine what to do with you. Matthew is so funny.

“He seemed very nice to me,” said Anya reproachfully. “He’s very friendly and didn’t mind at all, no matter how much I said it—he seemed to like it.” I felt a kindred spirit in him as soon as I saw him.

“You're both eccentrics, if that's what you mean when you talk about kindred spirits,” Marilla snorted. - Okay, you can wash the dishes. Use hot water and dry thoroughly. I already have a lot of work to do this morning because I have to go to White Sands this afternoon to see Mrs. Spencer. You will come with me, and there we will decide what to do with you. When you're done with the dishes, go upstairs and make the bed.

Anya washed the dishes quite quickly and thoroughly, which did not go unnoticed by Marilla. Then she made the bed, though with less success, because she had never learned the art of fighting feather beds. But still the bed was made, and Marilla, in order to get rid of the girl for a while, said that she would allow her to go into the garden and play there until dinner.

Anya rushed to the door, with a lively face and shining eyes. But right at the threshold she suddenly stopped, turned sharply back and sat down near the table, the expression of delight disappearing from her face, as if the wind had blown it away.

- Well, what else happened? asked Marilla.

“I don’t dare go out,” said Anya in the tone of a martyr renouncing all earthly joys. “If I can’t stay here, I shouldn’t fall in love with Green Gables.” And if I go out and get acquainted with all these trees, flowers, and garden, and stream, I cannot help but fall in love with them. My soul is already heavy, and I don’t want it to become even heavier. I really want to go out - everything seems to be calling me: “Anya, Anya, come out to us! Anya, Anya, we want to play with you!” - but it's better not to do this. You shouldn't fall in love with something you'll be torn away from forever, right? And it’s so hard to resist and not fall in love, isn’t it? That's why I was so happy when I thought I'd stay here. I thought there was so much to love here and nothing would get in my way. But this brief dream passed. Now I have come to terms with my fate, so it’s better for me not to go out. Otherwise, I'm afraid I won't be able to reconcile with him again. What is the name of this flower in a pot on the windowsill, please tell me?

- This is a geranium.

- Oh, I don't mean that name. I mean the name you gave her. You didn't give her a name? Then can I do it? Can I call her... oh, let me think... Darling will do... can I call her Darling while I'm here? Oh, let me call her that!

- For God's sake, I don't care. But what's the point in naming geraniums?

- Oh, I like things to have names, even if it's just geraniums. This makes them more like people. How do you know you're not hurting geranium's feelings when you just call it "geranium" and nothing more? After all, you wouldn’t like it if you were always called just a woman. Yes, I will call her Darling. I gave a name to this cherry tree under my bedroom window this morning. I named her the Snow Queen because she is so white. Of course, it won’t always be in bloom, but you can always imagine it, right?

“I’ve never seen or heard anything like this in my life,” Marilla muttered, fleeing to the basement for potatoes. “She's really interesting, as Matthew says.” I can already feel myself wondering what else she will say. She casts a spell on me too. And she’s already unleashed them on Matthew. That look he gave me as he left again expressed everything he had said and hinted at yesterday. It would be better if he were like other men and talked about everything openly. Then it would be possible to answer and convince him. But what can you do with a man who only watches?

When Marilla returned from her pilgrimage to the basement, she found Anne again falling into a reverie. The girl sat with her chin resting on her hands and her gaze fixed on the sky. So Marilla left her until dinner appeared on the table.

“Can I take the mare and the gig after lunch, Matthew?” asked Marilla.

Matthew nodded and looked sadly at Anya. Marilla caught this glance and said dryly:

“I’m going to go to White Sands and resolve this issue.” I'll take Anya with me so Mrs. Spencer can send her back to Nova Scotia right away. I'll leave some tea for you on the stove and come home in time for milking.

Again Matthew said nothing. Marilla felt that she was wasting her words. Nothing is more annoying than a man who doesn't answer...except a woman who doesn't answer.

In due course, Matthew harnessed the bay horse, and Marilla and Anya got into the convertible. Matthew opened the courtyard gate for them and, as they slowly drove past, he said loudly, apparently not addressing anyone:

“There was this guy here this morning, Jerry Buot from Creek, and I told him I'd hire him for the summer.

Marilla did not answer, but whipped the unfortunate bay with such force that the fat mare, unaccustomed to such treatment, broke into a gallop indignantly. When the convertible was already rolling along the high road, Marilla turned around and saw that the obnoxious Matthew was leaning against the gate, sadly looking after them.

Sergey Kutsko

WOLVES

The way village life is structured is that if you don’t go out into the forest before noon and take a walk through familiar mushroom and berry places, then by evening there’s nothing to run for, everything will be hidden.

One girl thought so too. The sun has just risen to the tops of the fir trees, and I already have a full basket in my hands, I’ve wandered far, but what mushrooms! She looked around with gratitude and was just about to leave when the distant bushes suddenly trembled and an animal came out into the clearing, its eyes tenaciously following the girl’s figure.

- Oh, dog! - she said.

Cows were grazing somewhere nearby, and meeting a shepherd dog in the forest was not a big surprise to them. But the meeting with several more pairs of animal eyes put me in a daze...

“Wolves,” a thought flashed, “the road is not far, run...” Yes, the strength disappeared, the basket involuntarily fell out of his hands, his legs became weak and disobedient.

- Mother! - this sudden cry stopped the flock, which had already reached the middle of the clearing. - People, help! - flashed three times over the forest.

As the shepherds later said: “We heard screams, we thought the children were playing around...” This is five kilometers from the village, in the forest!

The wolves slowly approached, the she-wolf walked ahead. This happens with these animals - the she-wolf becomes the head of the pack. Only her eyes were not as fierce as they were studying. They seemed to ask: “Well, man? What will you do now, when there are no weapons in your hands, and your relatives are not nearby?

The girl fell to her knees, covered her eyes with her hands and began to cry. Suddenly the thought of prayer came to her, as if something stirred in her soul, as if the words of her grandmother, remembered from childhood, were resurrected: “Ask the Mother of God! ”

The girl did not remember the words of the prayer. Making the sign of the cross, she asked the Mother of God, as if she were her mother, in the last hope of intercession and salvation.

When she opened her eyes, the wolves, passing the bushes, went into the forest. A she-wolf walked slowly ahead, head down.

Boris Ganago

LETTER TO GOD

This happened at the end of the 19th century.

Petersburg. Christmas Eve. A cold, piercing wind blows from the bay. Fine prickly snow is falling. Horses' hooves clatter on the cobblestone streets, shop doors slam - last-minute shopping is being done before the holiday. Everyone is in a hurry to get home quickly.

Only a little boy slowly wanders along a snowy street. Every now and then he takes his cold, red hands out of the pockets of his old coat and tries to warm them with his breath. Then he stuffs them deeper into his pockets again and moves on. Here he stops at the bakery window and looks at the pretzels and bagels displayed behind the glass.

The store door swung open, letting out another customer, and the aroma of freshly baked bread wafted out. The boy swallowed his saliva convulsively, stomped on the spot and wandered on.

Dusk is falling imperceptibly. There are fewer and fewer passers-by. The boy pauses near a building with lights burning in the windows, and, rising on tiptoe, tries to look inside. After a moment's hesitation, he opens the door.

The old clerk was late at work today. He's in no hurry. He has been living alone for a long time and on holidays he feels his loneliness especially acutely. The clerk sat and thought with bitterness that he had no one to celebrate Christmas with, no one to give gifts to. At this time the door opened. The old man looked up and saw the boy.

- Uncle, uncle, I need to write a letter! - the boy said quickly.

- Do you have money? - the clerk asked sternly.

The boy, fiddling with his hat in his hands, took a step back. And then the lonely clerk remembered that today was Christmas Eve and that he really wanted to give someone a gift. He took out a blank sheet of paper, dipped his pen in ink and wrote: “Petersburg. 6th January. Mr...”

- What is the gentleman's last name?

“This is not sir,” muttered the boy, not yet fully believing his luck.

- Oh, is this a lady? — the clerk asked, smiling.

No no! - the boy said quickly.

So who do you want to write a letter to? - the old man was surprised,

- To Jesus.

“How dare you make fun of an elderly man?” — the clerk was indignant and wanted to show the boy to the door. But then I saw tears in the child’s eyes and remembered that today was Christmas Eve. He felt ashamed of his anger, and in a warmer voice he asked:

-What do you want to write to Jesus?

— My mother always taught me to ask God for help when it’s difficult. She said God's name is Jesus Christ. “The boy came closer to the clerk and continued: “And yesterday she fell asleep, and I can’t wake her up.” There’s not even bread at home, I’m so hungry,” he wiped the tears that had come to his eyes with his palm.

- How did you wake her up? - asked the old man, rising from his table.

- I kissed her.

- Is she breathing?

- What are you talking about, uncle, do people breathe in their sleep?

“Jesus Christ has already received your letter,” said the old man, hugging the boy by the shoulders. “He told me to take care of you, and took your mother to Himself.”

The old clerk thought: “My mother, when you left for another world, you told me to be a good person and a pious Christian. I forgot your order, but now you won’t be ashamed of me.”

Boris Ganago

THE SPOKEN WORD

On the outskirts of a big city stood an old house with a garden. They were guarded by a reliable guard - the smart dog Uranus. He never barked at anyone in vain, kept a vigilant eye on strangers, and rejoiced at his owners.

But this house was demolished. Its inhabitants were offered a comfortable apartment, and then the question arose - what to do with the shepherd? As a watchman, Uranus was no longer needed by them, becoming only a burden. There were fierce debates about the dog's fate for several days. Through the open window from the house to the guard kennel, the plaintive sobs of the grandson and the menacing shouts of the grandfather often reached.

What did Uranus understand from the words he heard? Who knows...

Only his daughter-in-law and grandson, who were bringing him food, noticed that the dog’s bowl remained untouched for more than a day. Uranus did not eat in the following days, no matter how much he was persuaded. He no longer wagged his tail when people approached him, and even looked away, as if no longer wanting to look at the people who had betrayed him.

The daughter-in-law, expecting an heir or heiress, suggested:

— Isn’t Uranus sick? The owner said in anger:

“It would be better if the dog died on its own.” There would be no need to shoot then.

The daughter-in-law shuddered.

Uranus looked at the speaker with a look that the owner could not forget for a long time.

The grandson persuaded the neighbor's veterinarian to look at his pet. But the veterinarian did not find any disease, he only said thoughtfully:

- Maybe he was sad about something... Uranus soon died, until his death he barely moved his tail only to his daughter-in-law and grandson, who visited him.

And at night the owner often remembered the look of Uranus, who had faithfully served him for so many years. The old man already regretted the cruel words that killed the dog.

But is it possible to return what was said?

And who knows how the voiced evil hurt the grandson, attached to his four-legged friend?

And who knows how it, scattering around the world like a radio wave, will affect the souls of unborn children, future generations?

Words live, words never die...

An old book told the story: one girl’s father died. The girl missed him. He was always kind to her. She missed this warmth.

One day her dad dreamed of her and said: now be kind to people. Every kind word serves Eternity.

Boris Ganago

MASHENKA

Yule story

Once, many years ago, a girl Masha was mistaken for an Angel. It happened like this.

One poor family had three children. Their dad died, their mom worked where she could, and then got sick. There wasn’t a crumb left in the house, but I was so hungry. What to do?

Mom went out into the street and began to beg, but people passed by without noticing her. Christmas night was approaching, and the woman’s words: “I’m not asking for myself, but for my children... For Christ’s sake! “were drowning in the pre-holiday bustle.

In desperation, she entered the church and began to ask Christ Himself for help. Who else was left to ask?

It was here, at the icon of the Savior, that Masha saw a woman kneeling. Her face was flooded with tears. The girl had never seen such suffering before.

Masha had an amazing heart. When people were happy nearby, and she wanted to jump with happiness. But if someone was in pain, she could not pass by and asked:

What happened to you? Why are you crying? And someone else's pain penetrated her heart. And now she leaned towards the woman:

Are you in grief?

And when she shared her misfortune with her, Masha, who had never felt hungry in her life, imagined three lonely children who had not seen food for a long time. Without thinking, she handed the woman five rubles. It was all her money.

At that time, this was a significant amount, and the woman’s face lit up.

Where is your home? - Masha asked goodbye. She was surprised to learn that a poor family lived in the next basement. The girl did not understand how she could live in a basement, but she knew exactly what she needed to do on this Christmas evening.

The happy mother flew home as if on wings. She bought food at a nearby store, and the children greeted her joyfully.

Soon the stove was blazing and the samovar was boiling. The children warmed up, satiated and became quiet. The table laden with food was an unexpected holiday for them, almost a miracle.

But then Nadya, the smallest one, asked:

Mom, is it true that at Christmas time God sends an Angel to children, and he brings them many, many gifts?

Mom knew very well that they had no one to expect gifts from. Glory to God for what He has already given them: everyone is fed and warm. But kids are kids. They so wanted to have a Christmas tree, the same as all the other children. What could she, poor thing, tell them? Destroy a child's faith?

The children looked at her warily, waiting for an answer. And my mother confirmed:

This is true. But the Angel comes only to those who believe in God with all their hearts and pray to Him with all their souls.

“But I believe in God with all my heart and pray to Him with all my heart,” Nadya did not back down. - Let him send us His Angel.

Mom didn't know what to say. There was silence in the room, only the logs crackled in the stove. And suddenly there was a knock. The children shuddered, and the mother crossed herself and opened the door with a trembling hand.

On the threshold stood a little fair-haired girl Masha, and behind her was a bearded man with a Christmas tree in his hands.

Merry Christmas! - Mashenka joyfully congratulated the owners. The children froze.

While the bearded man was setting up the Christmas tree, Nanny Machine entered the room with a large basket, from which gifts immediately began to appear. The kids couldn't believe their eyes. But neither they nor the mother suspected that the girl had given them her Christmas tree and her gifts.

And when the unexpected guests left, Nadya asked:

Was this girl an Angel?

Boris Ganago

BACK TO LIFE

Based on the story “Seryozha” by A. Dobrovolsky

Usually the brothers' beds were next to each other. But when Seryozha fell ill with pneumonia, Sasha was moved to another room and was forbidden to disturb the baby. They just asked me to pray for my brother, who was getting worse and worse.

One evening Sasha looked into the patient’s room. Seryozha lay with his eyes open, seeing nothing, and barely breathing. Frightened, the boy rushed to the office, from which the voices of his parents could be heard. The door was ajar, and Sasha heard mom, crying, say that Seryozha was dying. Dad answered with pain in his voice:

- Why cry now? There's no way to save him...

In horror, Sasha rushed to his sister’s room. There was no one there, and he fell to his knees, sobbing, in front of the icon of the Mother of God hanging on the wall. Through the sobs the words broke through:

- Lord, Lord, make sure that Seryozha doesn’t die!

Sasha's face was flooded with tears. Everything around blurred as if in a fog. The boy saw in front of him only the face of the Mother of God. The sense of time disappeared.

- Lord, you can do anything, save Seryozha!

It was already completely dark. Exhausted, Sasha stood up with the corpse and lit the table lamp. The Gospel lay before her. The boy turned over a few pages, and suddenly his gaze fell on the line: “Go, and as you believed, so be it for you...”

As if he had heard an order, he went to Seryozha. Mom sat silently at the bedside of her beloved brother. She gave a sign: “Don’t make noise, Seryozha fell asleep.”

Words were not spoken, but this sign was like a ray of hope. He fell asleep - that means he’s alive, that means he will live!

Three days later, Seryozha could already sit in bed, and the children were allowed to visit him. They brought their brother’s favorite toys, a fortress and houses that he had cut out and glued before his illness - everything that could please the baby. The little sister with the big doll stood next to Seryozha, and Sasha, jubilantly, took a photograph of them.

These were moments of real happiness.

Boris Ganago

YOUR CHICK

A chick fell out of the nest - very small, helpless, even its wings had not yet grown. He can’t do anything, he just squeaks and opens his beak - asking for food.

The guys took him and brought him into the house. They built him a nest from grass and twigs. Vova fed the baby, and Ira gave him water and took him out into the sun.

Soon the chick grew stronger, and feathers began to grow instead of fluff. The guys found an old birdcage in the attic and, to be safe, they put their pet in it - the cat began to look at him very expressively. All day long he was on duty at the door, waiting for the right moment. And no matter how much his children chased him, he did not take his eyes off the chick.

Summer flew by unnoticed. The chick grew up in front of the children and began to fly around the cage. And soon he felt cramped in it. When the cage was taken outside, he hit the bars and asked to be released. So the guys decided to release their pet. Of course, they were sorry to part with him, but they could not deprive the freedom of someone who was created for flight.

One sunny morning the children said goodbye to their pet, took the cage out into the yard and opened it. The chick jumped onto the grass and looked back at his friends.

At that moment the cat appeared. Hiding in the bushes, he prepared to jump, rushed, but... The chick flew high, high...

The holy elder John of Kronstadt compared our soul to a bird. The enemy is hunting for every soul and wants to catch it. After all, at first the human soul, just like a fledgling chick, is helpless and does not know how to fly. How can we preserve it, how can we grow it so that it does not break on sharp stones or fall into the net of a fisherman?

The Lord created a saving fence behind which our soul grows and strengthens - the house of God, the Holy Church. In it the soul learns to fly high, high, to the very sky. And there she will know such a bright joy that she will not be afraid of any earthly nets.

Boris Ganago

MIRROR

Dot, dot, comma,

Minus, the face is crooked.

Stick, stick, cucumber -

So the little man came out.

With this poem Nadya finished the drawing. Then, fearing that she would not be understood, she signed under it: “It’s me.” She carefully examined her creation and decided that it was missing something.

The young artist went to the mirror and began to look at herself: what else needs to be completed so that anyone can understand who is depicted in the portrait?

Nadya loved to dress up and twirl in front of a large mirror, and tried different hairstyles. This time the girl tried on her mother’s hat with a veil.

She wanted to look mysterious and romantic, like the long-legged girls showing fashion on TV. Nadya imagined herself as an adult, cast a languid glance in the mirror and tried to walk with the gait of a fashion model. It didn't turn out very nicely, and when she stopped abruptly, the hat slid down onto her nose.

It’s good that no one saw her at that moment. If only we could laugh! In general, she didn’t like being a fashion model at all.

The girl took off her hat, and then her gaze fell on her grandmother’s hat. Unable to resist, she tried it on. And she froze, making an amazing discovery: she looked exactly like her grandmother. She just didn't have any wrinkles yet. Bye.

Now Nadya knew what she would become in many years. True, this future seemed very distant to her...

It became clear to Nadya why her grandmother loves her so much, why she watches her pranks with tender sadness and secretly sighs.

There were footsteps. Nadya hastily put her hat back in place and ran to the door. On the threshold she met... herself, only not so frisky. But the eyes were exactly the same: childishly surprised and joyful.

Nadya hugged her future self and quietly asked:

Grandma, is it true that you were me as a child?

Grandmother paused, then smiled mysteriously and took out an old album from the shelf. After flipping through a few pages, she showed a photograph of a little girl who looked very much like Nadya.

That's what I was like.

Oh, really, you look like me! - the granddaughter exclaimed in delight.

Or maybe you are like me? - Grandma asked, squinting slyly.

It doesn't matter who looks like whom. The main thing is that they are similar,” the little girl insisted.

Isn't it important? And look who I looked like...

And the grandmother began to leaf through the album. There were all sorts of faces there. And what faces! And each was beautiful in its own way. The peace, dignity and warmth that radiated from them attracted the eye. Nadya noticed that all of them - small children and gray-haired old men, young ladies and fit military men - were somehow similar to each other... And to her.

Tell me about them,” the girl asked.

The grandmother hugged her blood to herself, and a story flowed about their family, going back from ancient centuries.

The time for cartoons had already come, but the girl didn’t want to watch them. She was discovering something amazing, something that had been there for a long time, but living inside her.

Do you know the history of your grandfathers, great-grandfathers, the history of your family? Maybe this story is your mirror?

Boris Ganago

PARROT

Petya was wandering around the house. I'm tired of all the games. Then my mother gave instructions to go to the store and also suggested:

Our neighbor, Maria Nikolaevna, broke her leg. There is no one to buy her bread. He can barely move around the room. Come on, I'll call and find out if she needs to buy anything.

Aunt Masha was happy about the call. And when the boy brought her a whole bag of groceries, she didn’t know how to thank him. For some reason, she showed Petya the empty cage in which the parrot had recently lived. It was her friend. Aunt Masha looked after him, shared her thoughts, and he took off and flew away. Now she has no one to say a word to, no one to care about. What kind of life is this if there is no one to take care of?

Petya looked at the empty cage, at the crutches, imagined Aunt Mania hobbling around the empty apartment, and an unexpected thought came to his mind. The fact is that he had long been saving the money that he was given for toys. I still couldn't find anything suitable. And now this strange thought is to buy a parrot for Aunt Masha.

Having said goodbye, Petya ran out into the street. He wanted to go to a pet store, where he had once seen various parrots. But now he looked at them through the eyes of Aunt Masha. Which one of them could she become friends with? Maybe this one will suit her, maybe this one?

Petya decided to ask his neighbor about the fugitive. The next day he told his mother:

Call Aunt Masha... Maybe she needs something?

Mom even froze, then hugged her son to her and whispered:

So you become a man... Petya was offended:

Wasn’t I a human before?

There was, of course there was,” my mother smiled. - Only now your soul has also awakened... Thank God!

What is the soul? — the boy became wary.

This is the ability to love.

The mother looked searchingly at her son:

Maybe you can call yourself?

Petya was embarrassed. Mom answered the phone: Maria Nikolaevna, excuse me, Petya has a question for you. I'll give him the phone now.

There was nowhere to go, and Petya muttered embarrassedly:

Aunt Masha, maybe I should buy you something?

Petya didn’t understand what happened on the other end of the line, only the neighbor answered in some unusual voice. She thanked him and asked him to bring milk if he went to the store. She doesn't need anything else. She thanked me again.

When Petya called her apartment, he heard the hasty clatter of crutches. Aunt Masha didn’t want to make him wait extra seconds.

While the neighbor was looking for money, the boy, as if by chance, began to ask her about the missing parrot. Aunt Masha willingly told us about the color and behavior...

There were several parrots of this color in the pet store. Petya took a long time to choose. When he brought his gift to Aunt Masha, then... I don’t undertake to describe what happened next.

. Lucky.

In the evening, Antoshka received a scolding from his dad for losing his key, accidentally broke his mother’s favorite cup, forgot what he was assigned in Russian, and couldn’t watch a detective story because the TV was broken.
And just in front of the window the phone rang:
- Antoshka, is that you? It's me, Lucky!
- Hello, traitor! - Antoshka muttered. - And who are you helping now?
But Lucky wasn’t the least bit offended by the “traitor.”
- To an old lady. Can you imagine, she had bad luck all her life! So my boss sent me to her. Tomorrow we will win a million rubles in the lottery, and I will return to you!
- Is it true? – Antoshka was delighted.
“True, true,” answered Lucky and hung up.
That night Antoshka had a dream. It’s as if she and Lucky are dragging four string bags of Antoshka’s favorite tangerines from the store, and from the window of the house opposite, a lonely old woman smiles at them, lucky for the first time in her life.

Tasks

2. Define the text style. Prove it.

3. How did you understand who Lucky is?

4. Explain the meaning of the expression I wasn’t the least bit offended.

5 . What words convey the state of the participants in the dialogue?

6. Write down and sort out 2 verbs with a reflexive suffix.

6. Find and write down verbs with spellings. Explain spellings graphically.

7. Explain the punctuation in the first sentence.

8. What can you say about the role of verbs in this text?

Introductory lesson on the topic “Dialogue”. 5th grade.

. Good forest robber.

Not a minute had passed before a scary-looking man climbed through the window into the room, grabbed a pen and bent over the sheet of paper. Then Marfusha got out from under the bed. Hello! speaks. Who are you? The man shuddered in surprise, but was not afraid. I am Nikodim, the good forest robber. Why are you rewriting my fairy tales? Therefore, Nicodemus answers. I'm tired of being an evil robber! Everyone only expects bad things from me. But I'm kind!

Not a minute had passed when a scary-looking man climbed through the window into the room, grabbed a pen and bent over the sheet. Then Marfusha got out from under the bed.
- Hello! - speaks. - Who are you?
The man shuddered in surprise, but was not afraid.
- I am Nikodim, a good forest robber.
– Why are you rewriting my fairy tales?
“Because,” answers Nicodemus. - I'm tired of being an evil robber! Everyone only expects bad things from me. But I'm kind!

Exercise:

Place punctuation marks in the first text.

Compare two options for writing text. In which version is the text readable and perceived easier? Why?

How did you understand Nicodemus’ act?

Write down words with alternating unstressed vowels at the root, explain the spelling.

Comprehensive text analysis. Integrated lesson of Russian language and literature. 8th grade.

Vladimir Kirshin. Zen, the religion of lazy people.

Having thrown their backpacks under a bush and stretched their backs, the brothers, without hesitation, began setting up fishing rods and preparing bait. Dimka looked busily at Shurik, supposedly checking whether everything was correct, while he himself carefully copied the height of the float and the method of attaching the worm. But in order to plant this very worm, it was necessary to first catch a hook hanging on a long fishing line from somewhere in the sky. Dimka knew how to do it. He deftly, showing off a little, swung the rod, the hook swung away from him, then towards him, Dimka grabbed the fishing line a little higher than the sinker, but the hook spun under his hand and... securely grabbed onto the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Dimka broke out in a sweat: the situation was classic - a bungling fisherman on his own hook... Glancing sideways at Shurik, who was carried away by his gear, Dimka began to carefully untangle the hook from the fabric. The hook was good and did not come off. Baring his teeth and quietly hissing, Dimka pulled it from side to side until he tore it out of his sleeve along with the cotton wool. Suppressing a sigh of relief, he bent over the jar of bait. I chose a tastier worm and put it on a hook...

Shurik forgot about everything in the world. Without taking his loving eyes off the unsightly homemade floats, he impatiently stomped, squatted, stood up again, then suddenly sharply bent over to the rod and - staring predatorily at the animated float - tenderly took the warm bamboo in his hand. Slowly, slowly, barely breathing, he raised his long rod, waited, impatiently moving his lips, for the float to dive deeper into the water, and - pulled! An offensively tiny fish flew into the air like a victorious “Challenger” and, fluttering, fell into the grass. Shurik immediately somehow calmed down, as if he reluctantly pulled it towards him, unhooked it and, without looking at all, strung it on the coucan, and sometimes released it back into the pond to grow up. And everything was repeated all over again.

Tasks

1. Determine the topic and main idea of ​​the text.

2. Title the text.

3. Define the text style. Give reasons for your answer.

4. Describe the characters on the basis of which you made such a conclusion.

5. What means of expressive speech do you see in the text.

6. Explain the meaning of the words: bait, kukan.

7. Choose synonyms for the words: showing off, unsightly (floats)).

8. make a morphemic analysis of the words: enthusiastic, grinning, victorious.

9. Highlight and explain spelling patterns in suffixes.

9. Graphically indicate the isolated parts of the sentence.