by Vasya Sidorova

Well well well. Not in every class. Well, at least in one of the “A”, “B”, “B”, “G” in each Soviet school was his Vasya Sidorov. An empty, stubborn look. In the children's room of the police. Take the little thing from the child. and so on. The whole set. The school dreamed when Vasya finished eighth grade and went to PTU. In our school, the council made a fatal mistake. Vasya Sidorova was left for the second year. The law on general secondary education has not been repealed. This meant a hyena of fire for those who were to learn with him, and a paradise for those who, having cut off Vasis dust from their feet, went on the light path of knowledge.
Tamara Nikolaevna Malceva, a history teacher who took Vasya, tried all of her pedagogical talents, like some moves began, but the next academic year ended. You had to release. The board did not fail this time. In the certificate with no shaking hand was placed "satisfactory" on all subjects. Vasa and the School went each their own way.
Tamar Nikolaevna rested well that summer. The first September is approaching. Once, walking with her granddaughter in the park, she met Vasya. He noticed her from a distance, smiled, shrugged her hands...
How are you living, Vasco?
Well well! You know, thanks to you I understood a lot...Now I went to school...
For the astronauts? (On the street of the Soviet Cosmonauts in our city there is a professional and technical school, where they prepare tinted painters, electricians... well, the elite...).
No is! In the sanitary! I have everything ahead!
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Bright memory to you, Tamara Nikolaevna! Teacher of God! Thank you to everyone who taught me.