So far, until the age of twelve, when I replaced the absent teacher, the children listened to me attentively and with great interest. One day, the school principal, walking along the corridor and hearing noise and hum everywhere in the classrooms, was surprised by the dead silence that reigned in the fourth "A" grade. He stopped at the door and listened. Only one child's voice was heard. The principal entered the classroom and was amazed at the exciting attention with which all forty-two heads listened to their classmate. Yes, I spoke figuratively, as if I was drawing a picture of a forest, mountains, a picture of the suffering or feat of my hero. I was completely immersed in the world I was experiencing, I was carried away myself and carried the children away so that the lesson passed unnoticed. "When will you tell me next?" the children asked me and shouted: "Hooray! The teacher fell ill. Natasha will continue to tell at the third lesson!"

But as the years passed, I became different, and the children turned into teenagers and changed... Among them, a boy who was possessed by an evil spirit stood out. Frederick, that was his name, heard a voice in his soul that he often could not resist. This boy deftly disrupted discipline in the classroom, the guys began to laugh, and the teachers lost their temper. I also often burst into laughter, not yet understanding who was directing Friedka's behavior. The class teacher often moved us from place to place, wanting to break up fun companies.

Once I was seated next to Friedka. In fact, I knew how to get along with boys better than with girls, since I grew up at home with my brothers, and I had no sisters. I prompted Friedrich to mathematician, tried to help him, behaved with him simply, but still listened attentively to the teachers and did not delve into Friedrich's conversations. And he continued to keep in touch with his comrades and spun around even more than before, sending notes, agreeing on something, etc. Once he said to me: "Natasha, I have nothing against you, we seem to be friends... But I am tormented by a voice that I often hear. I don't hear with my ears, but as if someone inside me says to me: "Stab her with a knife!" I have no grudge against you, and I do not obey this voice, but I am afraid that one day I will not restrain myself and stab you, this voice sometimes overwhelms me too much. Ask your mother, Natasha, let her tell the teachers to sit you and me away from each other."

I told my mother everything on the same day, and the next day we were seated...

At that time, I took communion five or six times a year, drank holy water in the morning, wore a cross, and prayed. And the presence of God's grace infuriated the poor possessed boy. And the class danced to his tune. What kind of pranks the guys did not do! One day they conspired to throw all the inkwells out of the window so that there would be nothing to write the test scheduled for that day. And now the asphalt courtyard of the school was covered with splashes from shattered porcelain inkwells. There was a scandal, parents were summoned. I was no longer the head of the class then, I ran away from the children so as not to participate in their pranks. I could not stop them, because the concepts of conscience, sin, honor, morality, religion, and the word "God" were forbidden in our country at that time. Being at school in a non-religious society, having read secular literature, I fell morally. The concept of "pride" was extolled at that time, especially in the works of Lydia Charskaya, which I was fond of. Not yet recognizing this sin, I exalted my soul above other children. I considered it beneath my dignity to get involved with the guys. I did not react to their jokes, tried to avoid their company, silently left. I did not allow them to copy my tasks, selfishly wanting to stand out and get an excellent grade. And at home, I despised my brother Seryozha, reprimanding him for his greed, when he reluctantly gave me his eraser or blotting paper. So my character changed in a bad way, I was no longer loved in the class, and I did not need the sympathy of mischievous children.

At school, I was not particularly friendly with anyone, but resisted evil as best I could. We had an old teacher with a small beard. It was unfashionable at the time, and he was nicknamed "Goatbeard." Fyodor Fyodorovich (that was his name) was quiet, reserved, and only strict people were feared. The old man was bullied and once arranged for him to fall. A broken chair was folded, barely standing on the legs put up to it. Knowing the usual manners of Fyodor Fyodorovich, they put this chair in the break and waited for fun. I pretended not to notice anything, I was busy with my books. The teacher came in and, as usual, resting both hands on the table, looked around the class, unusually quiet and alert at that moment. Then I jumped up from the front desk where I was sitting, crumpled up the old book wrappers with my hands, as if I was angry with them for their dirt and tears. As if not noticing that the lesson had already begun and the teacher was already standing, I resolutely walked with a lump of paper to the urn in the corner. On the way, I ran into a chair, which immediately fell apart. I made a surprised grimace and slowly lowered the paper into the trash can. The teacher looked around, asked who the duty officer was, and asked him to bring a sturdy chair. In the classroom, someone barked in annoyance, someone breathed a sigh of relief, many began to talk about something. The lesson began. During the break, I was asked:

"Natasha, are you on purpose?"

"What?" "I almost fell, I ran into a chair out of annoyance that I had accumulated a lot of torn paper...

Everyone in the class, except me, were pioneers. More than once I was "dragged" into the pioneers, but I stubbornly refused, the teachers considered it childish stubbornness, but the guys knew that I was a believer. They noticed a chain around my neck, once they even picked up my baptismal cross on the floor. It fell out of my pocket, where I hid it when we were taken to a medical examination. The boy brought me a cross with the words: "We have known for a long time that you wear a cross. But no one should know about this, this is the secret of our class."

Yes, children in those years knew how to keep their mouths shut. No one stuttered about God, or about the temple, or about arrests. In all the seven years that we studied together, I also never mentioned that I saw our students in the church when they stood in line to venerate the Holy Shroud on Holy Saturday.

Relationships in the family between children and parents

We, children, had different characters. Kolya did not study well in elementary school, his grade was constantly lowered for dirt, for handwriting, for slovenliness. He became an excellent student only from the fourth grade, when teachers appreciated his ingenuity and outstanding mental abilities. Energetic, noisy, direct and honest, he led all the games, was a favorite of his comrades, but with Seryozha he often argued, quarreled and reconciled. Seryozha was the complete opposite of Kolya: careful in everything, quiet, punctual, diligent in learning, Seryozha was his mother's joy. She could not get enough of him, she showed everyone his report cards, certificates of commendation, drawings and notebooks. This contributed to the growth of Seryozha's pride. He was conceited and painfully worried that he was not a pioneer, and therefore could not be a member of circles, take part in the social work of the class and be an example for everyone. Dad remembered the fasts and did not allow him to go to the cinema or theater during those weeks. He forbade Seryozha to read fashionable literature, such as Gaidar, where there was a lot of anti-religious. In order to keep up with the life of the class, Seryozha had to hide from his father what he read, or stay after school in the school library. His father's reading of long vigils on the eve of holidays took away from Seryozha the time he needed for lessons and reading. Seryozha did not dare to oppose his father, but the boy was no longer happy with church holidays. Seryozha sighed: "It's fasting again! Up to the age of ten, Seryozha read a chapter from the Gospel in the evenings, lying in bed, for which his parents praised him very much. But Kolya and I said to my brother: "You read in vain, because you only seek praise, and you yourself remain greedy, you cannot ask for an eraser or a blotter..." Seryozha silently turned away from us. He fell asleep in time, kissing everyone's hands as a sign of reconciliation. His behavior seemed hypocritical to me, although I didn't know it yet.

Kolya and I often went out of subordination to our parents and went to bed very late. Having waited for the adults to fall asleep, Kolya and I turned on the light again and for a long time read fascinating translated literature for teenagers, which was abundantly supplied to us by my father's sister, Aunt Zina, who worked in Leninka. In the morning, dad had to come to us several times and wake us up for school. Kolya and I could not wake up. Dad always woke us up (and then his grandchildren) himself with infinite patience and meekness.