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December 29, 2003Finally, I am trashing (RECYCLING) many a recyclable piece of my history: pamphlets about circadian rhythms from a high school conference, rough drafts of essays about Beowulf, spirals of Pre-Calc notes (and keeping all my drawings and poems :D).The paper items most painful to detach myself from have been pages of Russian grammar rules. Most were handwritten in two colors of thin marker by my teacher, Galina Samoylovna. The combination of pink and brown made an impression on me(?). Towards the end of my time with her (she is not dead, but I quit at the beginning of 11th grade), GS (I can’t bring myself to call her simply “Galina” – it’s just not natural), a thoroughly modern woman in her 70’s (? ha), switched to printing the rules on her computer, but always in several colors of ink for the contrast. My assignments were composed of the following: -study the grammar rule of the week (“Zhi, shi, peeshi bykvu ee.”) -written assignment (Ranged from filling in vowels on a ditto to copying an entire passage and properly declensioning all the infinitive verbs.) -reading assignment (If a poem, to memorize. If a prose passage, to summarize/discuss.) -and sometimes, the spelling check (I had a notebook that housed words that I didn’t know or spelled wrong. Eventually it grew into a monster with an entire page or two of words under each letter. Every couple of weeks, GS would say, “Why don’t you study all the words under K-M for next week,” and we would have a quiz.) Our lessons went like so: First, she would quiz me on the grammar rule from the previous week by having me recite the rule out loud. Then, GS introduced a new grammar rule, and we discussed it. After that, she gave me a writing exercise. Sometimes it was an oral dictation; sometimes I would do a ditto while she checked my writing homework. Then, she started the literature section by quizzing me on my reading homework (recite poem/discuss story), and we talked about the historical/literary importance of the piece. In later years, she put more emphasis on the literature/composition component of the lesson as opposed to grammar. The last minutes were devoted to assigning work for the next lesson. Inspired by my father’s insistence that I chuck old things taking up precious basement space that could be better occupied by more wrapping or toilet paper, I chucked a ton of Russian lesson remnants. Keeping a couple for the memory, of course :D. “Kak egzemplyar.” ... For part of the family, today began around 2am when the house died. Slav and I were brushing our teeth in preparation for bed when the electricity went out. Suddenly the regular whir of the heating system , then silence and darkness. Mother was sleeping. Father was in New York. (The point of his journey was a brief reunion with a classmate he hadn’t seen in 30 years, but he spent most of the three days with his aunt, our Babushka Fanya, gallivanting about Brighton Beach, scooping up butter, chocolates, and cheap piano music along the way.) Our home security alarm got confused, a state it communicated through constant beeping. We woke up Mother, turned off the alarm, found a flashlight and some battery powered optic fiber toy from a 4th of July celebration back in the day, lighted candles, sent Mother back to bed, and remarked that it was surprisingly Soon thereafter, power returned to our home, and Slav&I collapsed into the sleep. Several hours later, the day turned truly historic: I wore jeans to church. (The two nice pairs I brought home were being hemmed.) Not too ridiculous on its own, but for a first time, in the company of 70year old Orthodox women, surrounded by goldly encrusted icons... oh the good times. Later, at the mall, I discovered that there is a type of women’s clothing for which more work is required to find a good fit than jeans: the swimsuit. In preparation for the tropical adventure Mother & I will embark on in January, and in light of recent expansion of several key portions of my body, I tried on at least 50 swimsuits at Water, Water Everywhere (the only swimsuit store in the mall) while Slav busied himself with the Gameboy. Once again, my boobs come in handy as an aide in the process of elimination. "No way will that top hold these kids." More good times! Now, for pizza and Apt Pupil. |
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