Self-isolation and masks are cancelled. The country has made amendments.

When the Russians will be behind the Russians, and they will begin to solve their problems. As taxi drivers, we know how to run the country, but we can do nothing in our lives.

YYY: And in Russia in general for the soul we live, in fact we have a normal country.

I went to the band with my family on the weekend. We walk in the ranks, as suddenly comes a drunk uncle. Then D is Uncle, I am I.

D: Good morning I see you guys think... Help choose wine for my lady.

I: Well, let me help...what does she love?

D: Sweet and delicious.

I ran by looking at the label, noticed one, seemed to have tried *

I: Behold this one. It seemed like nothing... And the stock on it was 400 r, instead of 600.

D: What if it is?

I get a bottle for 700 rubles.

Noah, it is more expensive.

D: The price doesn’t matter. This is my lady! ☝ and️

If so, take it, of course.



So we separated. He’s at the box and we’re 15 minutes away from the store.



At the exit, after the cash, he stood with a guard and two policemen. The guard shakes the bottle for 700 p. and asks the fig you want to steal it?

And my uncle just raised his hands 🤷♂️



The price, he says, does not matter. ☝️*

I was 13 at the time, and my dad and I went out for a weekend walk around the city. At the time, the trip in the routes cost 7 rubles (and I don't believe myself that such prices were).

In general, my parents and I walked down the streets for a long time, discussing the importance of stuff, and we got tired of order. So I decided to go home on the road.

Having caught the gazelle, sat in the places that straight ass-to-chop to the driver. While my dad was paying, I stood by the window and stared at the road. Suddenly I feel something on the right side of my shoulder. I turn around, and there the driver's hand persistently wraps me a little - 8 rubles. I think it gives. I give it to my dad, he tries to explain to the driver what he gave without giving.

And then the man behind the steering wheel turns and so kindly whispered:

I know without surrender! This is a diet for ice cream!

How many years have passed, and the case still warms my soul. Thank you, dear driver, I bought my child’s ice cream.

If you want to show everything, hide half.

In my city often came friends from other regions, to study, to improve qualifications, it was and I stopped. Once came a friend - a jaw-face surgeon and told (and showed the photos before and after, as they should) about the main character of one fun family. In one province town lived a man-cowboy, Strong for forty. An outwardly reckless, dull man, especially not working anywhere. And he had a wife - a tall, healthy grandmother, years of the same and the same habits. But! She had a disability and, accordingly, a pension, and the family was interrupted. Then the anger followed the man. And he had a mistress, understandable business, as it goes out of his circle of communication. Since the circle of communication was close, the cohabitant and mistress soon learned about each other, and here began a lengthy battle - everything went on: and psychological pressure on the object of the struggle, and physical impact on him and each other, and the involvement of neighbors and local in the process of fighting for the loved one (most often this was under the influence of ethyl pairs). The man was no longer young, quite fragile in health, the body was weakened by alcohol and all of these disorders, and at some point his psyche failed. He took a rifle and shot himself in the shell. He did not kill, the ambulance "woman" quickly called, he was discharged to the regional hospital. I called my friend, the surgeon. He repaired his harkya long and carefully. A friend showed me photos of this horror before, after, and during the recovery process (eyes and meaningful faces are not shown, and they were not seen). He took off half the face, part of the skull, but surprisingly, the brain did not hit, passed through the touch. Inserted plates, sewn, the man is alive. The surprising thing happened during his suffering and then recovery: the ladies of his heart, fighting for his recovery, at first fought in front of the door of the resuscitation, the sanitary staff broke them. And then so united, penetrated each other with such feelings that waking up in the department, the man found 2 cries of aunts holding his palms in their hands, with the promise "NEVER, NEVER WE WILL leave you!!!!". When they got home, they decided to live together. How does your girlfriend know everything? I went to her for regular inspections with my whole family. How the man felt, imagine yourself.

They buried a Negro and burned 12 states.

I was 11-12 years old and my family had difficult financial difficulties for a year. No, we were not hungry, but there was hardly enough money for the most necessary things. It was summer, the height of the holidays, friends in the courtyard delighted with ice cream, soda and so on. I did not have the thought of asking for money from my mom, because I knew perfectly that there was no excess and she kept us on the float with her last strength.

When I was a kid, I had more boys than girls. My friend and I decided to make money on sweets. By the way, the Wolf family was very well-off, but the parents were absolutely not against and supported him in the desire to earn on their own.

Every morning we woke up very early, picked up a bag and walked around the area to collect bottles. They stored it all at the Wolf in the basement, as there was plenty of space there, and went to rent them a couple of times a week. Mother categorically refused to take what I earned and allowed to spend at her discretion. I decided to buy bread at home.

It was a wonderful time. Strong friendship and joint earnings for the first time in life.

Then the wolf went to the camp for three weeks. I continued our joint business and decided to collect most of the bottles collected and not give it up until his arrival. I think he will be happy when he comes.

Three weeks later, I came to call a friend out. He opened the door to me and told me that he had handed over my bottles, but none of them were received and he threw them out. Then I asked my mother to confirm her words.

It was one of life’s first disappointments not only in a friend, but also in an adult who lied, covering his son.

Wolf, if you read this, I hope you grew up as a man, not a nest.

The coronavirus pandemic. The street. If you ask the person who approaches you not to approach, he will surely approach you with the words, "I am not contagious."

The planet of monkeys.

The story of an American teacher who moved from a school for poor Latinos to a school for Negroes:

I was a high school teacher for less than 10 years. I worked mostly in poor suburban schools with a large percentage of Mexican expatriates and mostly I loved my job. There have been, of course, falls and difficult times, but who doesn’t have them?

The year I taught at the central black city school almost forced me to give up my profession at all. I was in my fifth year of teaching and I decided to accept this challenge. Local central city schools advertised their new Turnaround Initiatives (in short, a new approach to education, a model proposed during the Obama administration) and I decided to try my hands at a school that successfully completed the initial phase of this initiative when I started working there. My old and new school were very similar with one difference. The percentage of students who were enrolled as “economically unsuccessful” (poor) was the same in both schools, but I left the school where mostly Mexicans studied to the school where mostly blacks studied.

The whole school year was a complete failure from the beginning to the end. I could probably write an entire book about the shit that is happening there, but I will only list the main points, starting with the least significant ones and ending with the most significant ones.

The visit was basically desired. Children were always coming in and out, if any. In response to any attempts to demand any rules on delays and visits, I usually received a "nigga reversal." And even if they were in class, they behaved loudly and were constantly distracted. Training took very little time in my class. In any of the classes. One girl, for example, pulled out her phone, turned on music, jumped to the table and started dancing. I tried to get her down, but she replied “out of time,” over and over again. She had it at least once a week. And this same little bitch spoke about the institutional forces of influence that prevent the Negro from growing and developing. And before you accuse me of poor class control, I tried to talk to the headmaster and the director about what to do because I had never encountered anything like that before. And in response I heard the same phrase that I was repeated all year round. “It’s just their culture. You have to respect her.” I was literally the only white man in the building. Almost all the adults were black with a few Mexicans and another white woman. The director, a black woman with a degree in education, told me that it was just their culture and I should respect it. and wow. I wish it would end, but where is it?

The mentality of the crabs in the cage that prevent each other from getting out is not a fiction and exists in reality. I had a handful of good guys and, of course, by chance, almost all of them were African immigrants. A boy from Rwanda was admitted to Stanford! How proud I was of them. Do you know who wasn’t so proud? A college consultant who tried to persuade him and go to the grabble grabbling instead of Stanford. He said that the guy would turn his back to his community if he went to Stanford.

Trying to cope with them was difficult, in addition, there were about 40 children in each class. You will say that the problem is funding, but nothing like that – we got more money for each child than any other school in the vicinity (and it’s in a big city). The money did not go to hire teachers, the money went to repair everything that the children broke just for entertainment. For example, each student was given a laptop and this is in a rather small school, about 850 children. Over the course of a year, about 1,000 laptops were re-rendered for replacement. The children handed them over to the lombard or just broke them on a rope. Several times I caught groups of children who were just spinning laptops around the wall or down the stairs under a common rust and twist, taking the procedure in turn for Vine (it was even before TikTok). All the TI83 calculators in the building were stolen from all the teachers. Couldn’t you get them back before they left? Do you think we did not try? They started screaming and screaming nonsense and just ran away with them. And again, nothing could be done about this because the school police choir and the director told me that this was their culture.

“They can’t think about classes when they’re so poor and have nothing to pay for an apartment and their stomachs are empty.” Every two weeks we handed out bags of food to each child in addition to the school dining room, which feeds the children with free breakfast and lunches, and the children and their parents with dinners in the evenings. I don't know why we did this, it was just money on the wind. They ate the snacks and threw the rest away. Hundreds of pounds of products are washed out every month. We often tried to keep what was possible when they just threw their bags on the floor. And at the same time, I know that almost all housing in this area is subsidized by section 8 (when the income is less than 50% of the average city income and the subsidy is 75% of the rental of housing).

And I have not yet touched the real problem – violence. The fighting was daily. Almost all the time there was a fight somewhere in the hallways or in the classroom. The usual punishment for a fight was an hour of sitting in an empty classroom. On average, the child had to fight five battles to get a more substantial punishment, like a whole day in an empty classroom. Have you noticed the “drakes in the classes”? At least once a week the teacher also received from the student. I was beaten several times. And again - the clock in the empty classroom, the next day again in class. The first time I was hit by a student, the director asked me to explain how I provoked him. As it turned out, telling the student to sit in place was a reason enough for the student to blast out, and it was my fault. Why is? This is their culture.

And finally the biggest problem was when I decided I was enough. A group of six of the most distracted shitmen followed me on the parking lot and showed me their knives. They said that if they didn’t get a good score for my subject at the end of the year, they would kill me. I was in horror. He ran to the school police officer and director. The director told me to give them good assessments. As you guess, it’s just that kind of culture they have, that’s what happens. Moreover, do we not want to ruin their lives with a police protocol because of such nonsense? For the first time in my life, I sent my boss. Nothing of this I will do, I will fulfill my employment contract until the last fifth, but no favor, enough of this hole. I never walked the same route twice again and always held my back to the wall except at the parking lot, where I was constantly looking around and always ready to run.

It was 3 years ago. I moved to another school in the area, the same poor, but Mexican, not Negro. The director is also a Mexican and a graduate of the school. And thanks to the new school, I am glad that I did not give up this profession. I like it here, it’s exactly like the school where I just started. There are problems with poverty, but they are good people trying to do the most with what they have and I go to work every day.

This phrase still burns before my eyes. It is simply their culture. If so, I hope you forgive me for not being 100% sympathetic to you. Because you have created it with yourself.”

by Via
https://www.reddit.com/r/TrueOffMyChest/comments/gulna2/i_used_to_teach_in_a_black_inner_city_school/

Personally, when I read this, I recalled the saying, "In every bush, there is a bush," if you understand what I am talking about. ;-)

Putin instructed Nornikel: "If the tank was replaced in time, the spill of fuel could be avoided."
Should the tank be changed?! to
And we thought it was enough to cancel the service period and work as before...

In every relationship, sooner or later there comes a moment when someone decides that you can already behave as usual, and the other wonder why a person suddenly became such a fool.

It is only worth shifting the common sense as soon as space is released for the feat.

About Blindness and Meaning

Sometimes I meet people who think they are doing useless work. Thanks to one event, for each of them I have a story. Today I want to share this story with you. Maybe it will give someone a small but positive charge.

It seems to be 2010. I worked as a technician in a regional IT company.

Our main project was the launch and support of digital classes in schools. The digital class is:

1st A large white board with a touch surface;
2nd Working station “in collection”;
Three The projector.

The scheme is simple - interactive educational content is projected on the board, which is created on the PC and students standing at the board can interact with it.

My task, as a technician, was to support users, simply repair and create an application to the manufacturer if standard repair methods didn’t help.

I received a request from a rural school. I couldn’t find out on the phone, so I had to go. Three hours on the train and I am there. In front of you is a small field and controller. A thought jumped through my head, and did I not go wrong with the station?

I was screamed from my back:
Go here! A woman screamed on the other side of the rail. The field was not there. There were wreaths, stones and a village was seen in the village. It was a teacher from school. Within 10 minutes we reached the area.

As a city resident, I was surprised by the look of the rural school. Very tired, wooden, single-storey building. Toilets for boys outside. When you go to school, you are immediately in the gym. There are no halls. I was taken to the office. In this school only local boys studied, so the classes were designed for a maximum of 4 parties. And against the backdrop of all this is the apophysis of the digitalization version of 2010 according to the Ministry's version.

A man approaches the box, the seller pierces the products:
Need a package?
and yes.
Thank you for voting for the amendments to the Constitution of the Russian Federation.

At the beginning of his career he worked as a courier. It would be nothing, but it was not necessary to carry paper, but a computer iron. In a month of work, I wrapped many kilometers under the rain, sludge and snow in sloppy shoes. And all this in shifts for 10-12 hours, sometimes without lunch. The only thing that warmed me in those days was that the main goal of earning money was to buy winter shoes. What I calculated from my salary was real.



But when I came at the end of the month for money, I learned that I was fired for a fictitious reason, and I was not going to pay anything. My disturbance had no limits and I went home. And when I left the office, the manager stopped me and told me to take the video cards to another office. He didn’t know I was fired.



I picked them up and took them to the nearest radio market. I didn’t regret it, I bought the shoes.

A 7-year-old daughter reads a fairy tale to her cousin. "The Wolf and the Seven Goats"

She read, approached and said:

“Daddy, the wolf understands, the villain, the goat has eaten. But the carpenter is worse than the wolf. He told him the voice of a goat, it was clear for what, and he knew and did.

Maybe he didn’t know, or was the wolf scared?

He doesn’t care what happens to others. Therefore he is worse than the wolf, the wolf is the beast, and the goat is his food. People do not do that when the wolf has gone he could and warn the goat.

If the U.S. saw what the U.S. is doing in the U.S., the U.S. would invade the U.S. to liberate the U.S. from the U.S.

In his youth he was very friendly without any intimacy with one girl, cute, smart, fun, beautiful companion. But often I was embarrassed by the fact that during the outpouring of vodka with beer somewhere on the street, she did not hesitate to drop her pants and deal with a small need, not hiding from me. Not only did she occasionally try to get caught up with me, when I went away to a remote corner with the same purpose: “Well, Sashaaaaa! I want to see how you write! Show me!” Last year she became the chief psychiatrist of one of the Russian regions.



Just a few years later, I met with another girl, and everything would be okay if it wasn’t the reaction of her body to alcohol, and she loved it very much. Half-banks of jeans cleanly removed her tower, she turned into a coveted monster, inclined to promiscuity, could in the middle of the day dress up and run naked on the street. At the end of the day, I ceased to tolerate this folly. He now heads a male department in a large psychiatric clinic.



Yyy: It is dangerous to be friends with you, you can become a psychiatrist

With the years you begin to realize that the understanding of life is not added.