Three hours ago. The youngest son is eight years old, and time to teach lessons. It is stupid:

I’m not going to teach these bad poems. And in English, and in Kazakh, and in Russian! “I hate school!”

An angry woman threatens him with a towel. The older brother comes in and says, “Wait, Mom. Let me talk to him.”

"Let's Senya do this: I learned the line - I give you 20 tenge (about 3 rubles). How many lines in a Kazakh poem?

The little boy’s tears immediately dried up. He thinks.

and eight!

“Look, you learned, you told me, and you have 160 tenge in your pocket.

Arsenie thought about it and added:

The Russian poem is bigger.

“That’s fine,” the older brother said, “do it!

The process went.

And I remember the first time I took my eldest son to dig potatoes. He was roughly the same age. Being on the field, he decided not to collect potatoes, arranging a small sabotage. I honestly do not remember how much I promised him, but the son began to collect so diligently that I barely had time to pour out the cage. He earned a decent amount.

The next day, speaking with a colleague, he talked about his method. The teacher of biology was terrified.

What are you doing! Which child do you want to be? The Targaryen? He will do everything for you only for money!

Nevertheless, the son grew up a decent man, knows the price of money and his labor.

My thoughts are interrupted by a small cry:

I have learned Kazakh!

The method still works.