Category: history

Specialized High School In The Soviet Union

It’s hard for me to say how “typical” School Number 30 was in comparison with other specialized schools. At the time I am writing, Leningrad had three specialized math schools: School Number 30, School Number 239, and the Specialized Boarding School Number 45 affiliated with Leningrad State University (the one Boris graduated from thirteen years before I graduated).

Obviously, we would kill anyone who suggested our school was second best. I didn’t challenge the quality of my education until fairly recently, and as I spoke at length about my University experience, I am going to describe my life and studies at School Number 30.

I won’t say everyone was highly motivated, but more students were motivated than at an average school. One thing is for sure: most of us felt elite and were very proud of it. We were also “a little bit dissident” and felt equally proud of that. Now I know that segregating more gifted students into separate classrooms immediately triggers the separation between “better” and “worse” within it, but back then, everyone was sure that it was the only way to give the best to the best students. Most of our teachers, not only in STEM but also in literature and social studies, were “above average” and demanded a lot from us.

Recently, I read a book titled “At Freedom” by Anatoliy Kuznetsov. This book is brilliant in so many ways that I can speak about it for hours. I don’t see any indication that it was ever translated into English, but I think this book is most valuable to those who lived in the Soviet Union or have close ties to it. It’s hard to single out the most important essay in this book; still, I want to call out the “Misinformation Secret.” This essay addresses a crucial topic that is almost forgotten thirty-five years after the Soviet Union’s collapse. These days, most people think Soviet political propaganda was on a “dummy” level, and that “nobody believed it.” In reality, many high-level specialists worked to perfect the propaganda, operating on multiple levels, exactly as Anatoly Kuznetsov describes.

Looking back, I realize we were all subjected to this “Level III propaganda,” and we all thought we were better than those common folks who believe in Level I or Level II, and that we knew “the actual real truth.” We admired our history and literature teachers, and once again, looking back, I am sure that some of them were cynical enough to continuously feed us with this “Level III”, and some were, like us, victims of the previous round of indoctrination, and truly believed in what they taught us. For example, I remember visiting my former Russian literature teacher during one of my trips to Saint Petersburg, who asked how well my children knew Russian. After I replied that they knew very little, she declared, as if it were the greatest tragedy that could happen to someone: They will never know Great Russian Literature! Never! Even though at that time I was still not completely free of all of the imperial nonsense we were taught, I was wondering why their ability to read and fully understand great English and American literature was less important, not even mentioning great French, German, or Spanish literature, which none of us could fully appreciate.

I think that a significant part of Russians who now declare that they always were “against all bad” and that their parents and teachers taught them good values, and that they are not responsible for anything, came from these specialized schools, where we were brought up to believe that we were so special, and so progressive, and so much better than others… And I was one of them, and it took me years and years just to start to understand that. I have no excuse, because I actually had brains but didn’t use them in some cases. Now it’s too late to undo what was already done, and the only thing we can do is stop Trump from repeating the same thing in the US.

My historical posts are being published in random order. Please refer to the page Hettie’s timeline to find where exactly each post belongs and what was before and after.

How It All Started…

There are multiple days that can be considered “when it all started” between Boris and me, and “by default,” we agree on March 20, 1983, the day we met for the first time. However, there are several other days, including the Day When Our Hands Touched for the First Time, which was September 30, 1988.

It was Friday, and we were flying back from a technical conference in Rostov-on-Don, the first conference I ever attended. Four conference days, when I could barely understand anything presented. Where Boris had a talk on the third day. Where we spent hours walking the city streets in the evening and talking. Where we sat in my hotel room, eating fresh fruit and fresh bread in place of dinner (and those who were not born and raised in the Soviet Union won’t understand that having an abundance of fresh fruit was a luxury available only “in the South”). Both of us were married, and both of us happily pretended that nothing was happening.

It was much warmer in Rostov-on-Don than in Leningrad, and the farmers market was overpouring with yellow pears and blue grapes. In fact, when the subject of the conference came up, I was hesitant to attend because Igor’s third birthday was in the middle of that week, but Boris told me: you will bring him fresh fruit. I did, and also lots of clothes: somehow, the private enterprise was rolling out faster in Rostov than in Leninigrad, and I bought several nice-looking outfits for Igor, still “a deficit” in Leningrad.

It was only on Firday evening at the airport, that Boris took my luggage from me to place it on the luggage belt, and our hands touched, and he didn’t move his hands away for a couple of seconds.

***

We talked about it on Saturday, because September 30 was in the middle of the week and busy, and we both admitted that in our wildest dreams we couldn’t imagine the future outcome of that day 🙂

My historical posts are being published in random order. Please refer to the page Hettie’s timeline to find where exactly each post belongs and what was before and after.

Repost: “Bombshell”

It was incredibly interesting! Thank you rmichaelroman!

“Bombshell”

Watching Andrei Rublev – One More Time

Andrei Rublev is my favorite Russian painter and one of my favorite painters overall. The movie “Andrei Rublev ” is my favorite Tarkovsky film and one of my favorite movies overall.

The movie is sixty years old, almost as old as me, and you can still watch it without a facepalm and without adjusting your perception to these sixty years passed. The Siskel Center runs a full Tarkovsky retrospective, and when I saw that they would be screening Andrei Rublev when Anna is visiting, I immediately wanted all three of us to watch it together.

Still as brilliant as I remember it.

For those who have never watched it, especially my English-speaking friends, the trailer is not the best and does not do the film justice. And it’s not about the mysterious Russian soul. And it’s over three hours long. Worth seeing, though.

Narva-Joesuu

On Friday, we got up at 5 AM in order to catch the 6:30 AM train to Narva. This time, we didn’t mess up with the buses, and took the right one, and didn’t even miss the stop, and were at the cemetery at 10:15 AM.

The weather on both Thursday and Friday was much better than forecasted. On Thursday, it was just sunny with no rain. On Friday, the rain was starting and stopping, but it was still light enough that we could walk around for a while, and we took shelter at a bus stop for only the last 30 minutes.

I was sure I would find the grave immediately, but I got lost again, and after wandering “somewhere close,” I asked a lady tending another grave if she could help me. The lady looked at the photo on my phone, but couldn’t recognize it, so I kept moving in circles, until she suddenly called me: Woman, woman! Here it is! I realized I completely forgot this way of addressing strangers (woman, girl, man, etc.).

Anyway, I found it. And now that the lot is cleaned up, I see that more repairs are needed, so we’ll have to figure out what we are going to do with it)/

Same as last time, Boris and I walked from the cemetery towards the village center, and passed the wood where I used to go berry-picking.

Once again, we stopped by the house where I spent three summers of my childhood. This time, however, it looked like there was a massive construction in progress, so I suspect that next time I visit, this house won’t be there anymore. Well, I am glad I had a chance to see it!

We had an extra hour and a half in Narva, and the rain stopped again, so we walked to the fortress (the view is so breathtaking that I can’t stop looking!)

Another 3-hour train ride to Tallinn, walking under the pouring rain to the ferry terminal, and a two-hour ride to Helsinki (this time, comfortably sitting in the cafe).

Boris believes that as long as someone remembers a person who passed away, this person is not completely gone. For him, that’s the reason to take care of this grave and keep visiting it. I do not hold this belief, but still, somehow, it’s important for me not to abandon it after I found it.

How I Got Accepted To School Number 30

In my recent historical posts (here and here), I described my situation by the end of the eighth grade: I wanted to transfer to School Number 30, but it was, technically speaking, forbidden because I was already attending another specialized school.

I can’t remember who told me to start attending one more math class at the same school: this one met twice a week and was taught by Mr. Maiselis, the most decorated math teacher in the whole city. He was teaching these classes to prospective students, which allowed him to assess everyone’s skills and pick and choose the best students for his upcoming 9th-grade class. There were always seven 9th-grade classrooms. Two were taught by Mr. Maiselis, two by Mr. Ilyin, two by Ms Kursish, and one by Ms. Klimwitsky.

There was some sort of rivalry between Maiselis’ classes and Ilyin’s classes, and everyone was keeping an eye on the school competition, even more than on citywide olympiads. But I learned about all of this later. At the time I am talking about, I was still fifteen, still attending the eighth grade, and still wanting to transfer. The reason I started to attend Mr. Maiselis’ classes was that I was hoping for his help with facilitating the process.

I think I was not the worst student, and when I got a chance to talk to Mr. Maiselis, he told me that a person in charge of math education on my district school board was a friend of his, and I should get an appointment with him and ask for an exception.

Looking at that situation from today’s perspective, I am unsure why my mom just let me do this. I remember that later she was telling someone that “she told me it’s up to me, and if I want it, I should figure this out.” That’s so out of her character that I can’t imagine why she would do that. Nevertheless, she left me to my own devices, and I went to the district school board, and asked for an appointment, and talked to this gentleman. First, he appeared to be very compassionate, but when he learned that I held several city olympiad diplomas, he exclaimed: why would I let you leave our district! Yes, an additional problem with that transfer was that I wanted to transfer out of my home district. Finally, he told me that he would sign the papers if I could convince my current math teacher and my homeroom teacher to sign a letter of recommendation for me.

I went back to my home school, pleaded with both teachers until they signed all the papers, then went back to the district office, and was finally accepted to School Number 30. I do not recall taking any entrance exams. I believe that Mr. Maiselis’s recommendation would suffice. My homeroom was 9-2. Vadim and Tolya were accepted as well. Vadim was in room 9-4, and his teacher was Mr. Ilyin; Tolya was in room 9-6, and his teacher was Ms Kursish. Can you believe I still remember all of these details?! That’s how important it was for me at that time!

Transferring to School Number 30 was one of the defining moments in my life, one of the events that changed its trajectory. I got an access to likely the best available secondary education, not only it STEM, but also in social studies and literature, even though, looking back, I am astonished seeing how one-sided was this best education. The environment I was immersed into fostered independent thinking (again, to certain extent only, but probably the best I could have at that time). I got to know many people whom I would never get to know otherwise. Most importantly, if not for School Number 30, it would be rather unlikely for me to even think about applying to the Leningrad State University, which means that none of my life would happen. There were very few decisions of life-altering decisions of that magnitude, and transferring to School Number 30 was the first of them.

My historical posts are being published in random order. Please refer to the page Hettie’s timeline to find where exactly each post belongs and what was before and after.

Youth Math School: The 8th Grade

Here is my last post about the Youth Math School. The other day, I thought I should blog about being a teacher at the Youth Math School, but then I realized I hadn’t finished the story of my own studies. Here it is.

I do not remember how I signed up for these classes in school #30. I believe I just walked into the old Math Department building, which was still open for the evening classes, found the ad board, and looked up the classes for the 8th graders. I noted the day and time, and just showed up.

I know it seems wild to students nowadays that you could just walk into a school building during the evening hours, find the room, and nobody would ask you anything. I believe that University students who taught these classes still had to find a janitor to take the key and open the classroom, since I remember us sitting in the hallway and waiting for our teachers. And I also remember looking for someone to open a classroom for me when three years later, I was a teacher myself.

My current self is just wondering why it was assumed that the school should allow these evening classes, why they trusted us, why parents didn’t care where their teenage kids were (most likely, they were happy that their teenage kids were doing math rather than drinking cheap wine on the streets), but my past self didn’t give it a second thought.

Anyway, I was in a math class again. Once again, I was the only girl in the class. Our teachers were Misha Chepovetsky and Borya Goldberg. Since they were teachers, we addressed them with their patronymics (and later, when I was a teacher myself, I learned that it was very important to address other teachers in the same school using their full names with patronymics). We practice addressing each other that way even during our university classes, with surprised looks from our classmates. Misha was Michail Anatolievish, a second-year student in the Department of Mathematics and Mechanics at Leningrad State University, and he taught at the Youth Math School for the second year. Boris Michailovich was a first-year student of the same department.

Since the classes were very interactive, and everyone could see who was the first person to raise their hand so that the teacher could stop by and check their problem solution, it was immediately obvious “who is the smartest,” and as I mentioned earlier, the idea that each individual student’s achievements and what is not, should be private, didn’t exist.

Vadim was definitely “the smartest one,” and Tolya Korobkin was “the second smartest.” Surprisingly, I was not trailing and sometimes would come in third, so the teachers started to pay attention to me. It was somehow assumed that all of us wanted (or should I say “should have wanted?”) to be admitted to the 9th grade of school #30. Also, all of us participated in the Math competitions in our respective school districts, and a lot of us made it to the city competition.

The City Math Olympiad had taken place in the old Math Department building (they were still reluctant to send the kids to compete at the out-of-town campus), and to my (and everyone’s else) surprise, not only did I receive a third degree diploma (remember, I never had any before that), but also, I was the only person of our Youth Math School class who got it :). During the awards ceremony, my whole class was cheering for me, and once again, I was the only girl who received any diploma… until we saw one more girl who was called out to receive the award. All of us watched closely a miniature figure of a pretty, subtle brunette walking to the podium. That was Elena K., my future classmate and my best friend for many years to come.

To be continued.

My historical posts are being published in random order. Please refer to the page Hettie’s timeline to find where exactly each post belongs and what was before and after.

From the”Vintage Tribune”

I am subscribed to the Chicago Tribune’s newsletter “Vintage Tribune.” Each day, it reproduces several old issues of “that day in Chicago,” and I wanted to share some of them.

April 13, 1992 Great Chicago Flood.

Pedestrians step over hoses used to pump flood water out of buildings at the intersection of State and Madison streets in April 1992. Massive basement and sub-basement flooding occurred when crews punctured a century-old freight tunnel located underneath the Chicago River. (Chris Walker/Chicago Tribune)

May 1. The actual May Day affair happened on May 4, 1886, but the Federation of Organized Trades and Labor Unions, the predecessor of the American Federation of Labor, called for May 1, 1886 to be the beginning of a nationwide movement for the eight-hour day. What I didn’t know and just found recently was that the eigh-hour day law was introduced in 1867, but never reinforced.

A crowd marches in a peaceful May Day parade in Chicago’s Loop toward Grant Park on May 1, 1934. Among the paraders, were Joseph Weber, secretary of the Trade Union Unity League, William Gebert, communist organizer, and Nina Spies, widow of August Spies, who was hanged for his role in the Haymarket Riot of 1886. The leaders of the demonstration said the parade represented “a fight against war and fascism and for workers’ unemployment insurance legislation.” (Chicago Tribune historical photo)

May 2. 8000 people attended the opening of the Field Museum.

As with the 1894 opening at the Palace of Fine Arts in Jackson Park, crowds line up when the Field Museum opens in its Grant Park location on May 2, 1921. (Field Museum)

Mr. Nobody Against Putin

Just watched it at the Siskel Center – the theater was packed, and a significant part of the audience was not Russian-speaking. The English subtitles were OK – some nuances were definitely missing, but still quite accurate. They should have run the subtitles in the end, when they play a recording of “Broad and vast is our mighty country” – it’s not like every English speaker knows this song, and I think it’s important that during the time of a tightening oppressive regime they play “where man is gloriously free.”

The documentary is unimaginably depressing. Not only because of what exactly it shows, not only because the audience physically feels the pressure of the Russian propaganda machine, but also because of how Pasha chooses to be blind even after he left Russia: everything was fine before February 2022, and then all of a sudden…

As always, I didn’t read any reviews before watching, and now I see some interviews with Pasha, and I am oging to try to watch at least some of them (I have no idea when I find time, but…)

Super-interesting Article About Biking In Chicago in the 1890s

Read how Chicago became the manufacturing hub of the nation’s bicycle industry — a city that produced a quarter of all U.S. bikes and claimed more than 200,000 riders at the height of the boom. It was also a place where women defied social expectations on two wheels, and where cycling clubs organized one of the country’s first powerful transportation lobbies.

Full article here.