Of the teachers of my university, I now, three decades later, remember almost everyone. I remember, not always on FIO. Many people only remember their names. Until I die, I will never forget Nina Porfirievna. Her passionate voice, a benzopil like: "for any, no matter how small a number of dogs there is such an epsil..."

Mathan she led, mathanalysis that is. In my dreams, I dreamed of her in my student years. It was strictly painful. A sharp dislike was purely external - some old virgin over forty, for the student in general an old lady. Liquid hair tightly tightened into a bunch on the back of the head, excessive high forehead for a woman is revealed. and joke.

A separate outrage that under the action of this steel pile I unbelievably efforted in its subject, but got a four for it. On the backdrop of the other five, it looked like an insult — I invested much less in other items. He went on a red diploma, an increased scholarship, lived romantic adventures. And this lady was just lying down on my life’s path, with her foolish dogs and epsils. I imagine that I would have written about it and how I would have appreciated it if there were websites that could do this at the time.

... but – a strange after-taste remained from her crazy course. Unlike many, where I understood little and floated into the top five mostly thanks to the kindness of the teachers, higher mathematics was very useful to me in understanding the equations of quantum physics. It soon emerged in the material world. As a student I got 120 rubles. rates on the department, against the background of which my increased by 10 rubles. The scholarship.

I still disliked Nina Porfirievna, but I liked the laplacyanas and other basic concepts. I had no love for them, but at least I found out how it worked. On this humus easily went Dirac and Landau. The true beauty of the theory was in them.

Thirty years later, the anniversary of Fitzfak. I was upset by many of my classmates. I saw how we grew old, eaten and surrendered. Our girls stayed better. But when I saw Nina Porfirievna, a storm of emotions swept through my soul. I saw that she was beautiful, despite her ridiculous bump. How little has changed. How much height and strength in her face.

And most importantly, the memory immediately gathered together a rather strange chain of events. It was obvious that despite the collapse of the superpower and the change of profession, Nina Porfirievna gave me an interesting life. It was at the beginning of this chain. Without it, I would probably have gone out of poverty into the business of the '90s. Without gifts to him, he would be lying now somewhere with a hole in his skull. I lived through this terrible time on grants and with my favorite work thanks to this woman.

I still regret not coming to her that evening and not saying a simple thank you. I could not. The habit of being honest with those I respect. But here it meant too much. I would suffocate her in my arms. He would be targeted, would be carried on his hands through the hall, irrigated with tears of repentance. Oral would all the throat - "Glory Nina Porfirievne!"

But all this was not in the genre of a peaceful anniversary evening. So I just joined the common, unexpectedly furious applause to her.