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p Education is the purest and most sacred of all tasks. And the world of a teacher’s calling is an especially pure world that requires a high degree of spirituality. We have already noted that a teacher influences children through everything in his own life. But the child,too,,is more than simply a schoolchild; a teacher encounters all aspects of his existence, not only those that relate to school. How then can he learn to see the full complexity of a child’s life, and to recognize his joys and griefs?

p Because of its generalized nature, the theory of education cannot, of course, provide a recipe for each concrete situation in school practice. And even two or three volumes of pedagogical psychology cannot characterize the millions of children’s personalities and the unique situations that teachers encounter.

p But a teacher, equipped with a system of means and a knowledge of psychology, will always be able to explain specific complexities that he may observe in a child’s life.

p Konstantin Ushinsky considered the basis of the art of teaching to be a comprehensive knowledge of a child in all his relationships, namely: "...the way he actually is, with all his weaknesses and in all his grandeur, his day to day miscellaneous needs as well as his noble spiritual demands. A teacher must know individuals within their family, in society, in their relation to people as well as to the human race, alone with their conscience, in all situations, in happiness and in grief, in full health-as well as in sickness, in the grandeur of success and in humiliation, in the fullness of hopes as well as on the death-bed when words of human comfort are powerless. He must understand the moving forces of both the basest and the noblest deeds, the origins 64 of criminal as well as lofty thoughts, and the course of development of every passion and temperament. Only then will he be able to find within man’s very nature the vast means (and they are boundless) for influencing a person’s education!"  [64•* 

p The observations about children written by Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, Dickens, Faulkner, Gorky and Chekhov contain genuine psychological analyses of children’s lives.

p When I read Korchak and Makarenko I believe their words, for I see the children to whom they have given what was best in them. I am persuaded that the method of artistic generalization is destined to become the most important means for making pedagogics and psychology accessible to anyone who is interested in problems of education.

p In Solenga I suddenly experienced a series of joyful and unexpected successes in the spring. Everything to which I had given so much thought, which I had accumulated within myself and within the children, suddenly began to come together spontaneously, smoothly and in a natural way.

p But there was also another source of joy. I was able to draw closer to the students and this was especially important.

p At times I felt a strong need to believe that man can achieve anything. And since I was myself not able to realize this I felt happy when it was realized in the lives of my pupils.

p I wanted to dismantle that which was conventional, disconnect what had already been formed and recomhine it in, a new manner. Why was it that Vanya Zolotykh’s well-being should depend on ten missing centimetres in his height? His entire life had to depend on these ten centimetres. Five and another five. The size of two matchboxes, of two shoe heels set one upon the other that could completely alter his life. Why do the girls follow such a strict stereotype: if a boy is two centimentres shorter than a girl then it is embarrassing to stand next to him, walk with him, and be friends with him. If you are missing the required ten centimetres then do not come near me. But he approaches even though he knows that he is missing the required ten centimetres, harbouring, moreover, some kind of expectations. And instead of sitting down so as not to show his height, he purposely keeps walking about and will even stand on the lowest possible place when he can choose one that is higher—such is the 65 impertinence of Vanya Zolotykh. What if he does study well, and what if he is kind and gifted—what difference does this make if he does not have the needed ten centimetres?

p “I will give you, Vanya dear, the needed ten centimetres. You will have them. In a year. I promise you.”

p A silly promise? No, I truly believed in these ten centimetres, the size of two matchboxes.

p Vanya’s body was strong, resilient and clean. It only needed a suntan—something inaccessible to this young northerner. Could it be that this was where the missing ten centimetres were hidden?

p “In life anything can be stretched, in length or in width as one wishes,” I would say to Vanya jokingly. "I can guarantee, Zolotykh, that by summer we will grow five of these centimetres.”

p Vanya would arrive at school by six-thirty. At twenty to seven my voluntary lessons in physical development began.

p Again I would repeat to Zolotykh: "For God’s sake! If you really want these ten miserable centimetres then we will make them for you!" I said this with such aggressive assurance that he no longer had any doubts whatever that this would be so. (Twenty years later Vanya Zolotykh would say to me: "How could you risk promising this with such assurance? What if I had not grown?" "That is the very point!" I would answer. "One must believe absolutely, without reservations.”)

p Vanya ran, jumped, stretched, and did pull-ups. He was boxing, spending much time outdoors, taking cold showers, rubbing himself with a towel,—and if it had not been for those silly jackets that he wore (he had no others), he would have looked like a real athlete. How quickly a child’s body changed. In the course of a single year he added an ease of movements and a sports-like trimness to his earlier strength.

p “Come over here, Vanya, we will measure you. What did I tell you? Five centimetres are in the bag!" How happy we both were! But we told no one, this was our shared secret. Who knows, perhaps Vanya would have gained these five centimetres even without my lessons. Actually I do not think so.

p And I had already made further plans for developing the strength, energy and spiritual qualities of my tenth-grade students. For it is true, there lives within each person both a poet and an artist and also a great worker.

p The boxing group that I led soon included all the boys in the 66 class. They become my helpers and began lo recruit groups of fifth- and sixth-grade students.

p At seven in the morning before classes began there was an hour of exercises, and for the small fry there were lessons in punching and moves.

p There was similar training in the evening, followed by lessons in painting, music and poetry.

p One day’s topic was Vrubel and Lermontov’s “Demon”. Vanya Zolotykh explained, following a narrative of what he had read, that the demon was a symbol of the restlessness of the human soul. And on the screen a prophet appeared—Vrubel’s illustration to the poem, then an angel with six wings and also Pan, and finally the powerful image of ihe demon. Together we began to explore and think about the pictures, when Vanya suddenly pointed out that both the seraph, the prophet and even Pan resembled each other in a way.

p The children noticed that their postures were similar, and Alia Dochernayeva added that while it was understandable that the seraph and the prophet resembled each other, they were also somehow similar to the demon, and not in their colours, but in some kind of aloofness.

p Carried away, I explained that this was not accidental, for Vrubel’s soul was full of love. This theme was then developed by Anechka Kleimenova, who had read excerpts from the artist’s letters to his wife.

p I then reflected out loud that it was here that we could find a key to understanding Vrubel. His heroes’ eyes expressed love, silent hope, and sorrow, a striving to achieve the unachievable. The artist believed that truth was beauty, the beauty of man’s creative strivings. True art was always more perfect than the life which man already knew. And Alia Dochernayeva then asked: "Does this mean then that art is, after all, more beautiful than life itself?" My answer was: "Art is itself the greatest form of life. It is not a copy of reality, nor a detailed description of ways of living, even though it does not exclude this. It discovers new laws of beauty and a new moral inspiration in man.”

p The next day my upper grade students would go to pupils of lower grades to discuss poetry and painting with them, and my efforts acquired a novel dimension. There was a new type of communication and a new attitude towards oneself and one’s body (had one ever heard of young people devoting hours of attention to the development of their physique)—and all this as a 67 result of teaching activities.

p Unwittingly my teaching line was out of accord with existing traditions and brought confusion into the tested rhythm of school life in Solenga. And while Parfyonov, the Director, generally understood that this line might somehow become out of the ordinary and constitute an additional facet to his system, he, nevertheless, perceived it as a threat.

p I remember that on one occasion the collective farmers responded sceptically to a project to prepare one hundred, or perhaps two hundred peat-compost pots for seeds. And I recall my preposterous enthusiasm: Let’s make a thousand, two thousand of these small pots. I mentioned this to the children and my entire boxers’ battalion threw itself into making these pots. It got to be one or two in the morning, and we were still continuing our work. In the morning there was a scandal; both the parents and the school were indignant and complained to the Director. Parfenov was silent, for he liked the burst of energy that I had awakened in the children and was also pleased that the collective farm had expressed its gratitude. All the same he had to reprimand me, but he did it quietly and in a friendly way. And I did not mind this reprimand, for it was a mere formality.

p But now 1 was under the dangerous spell of having the children obey my power; they would do whatever I said, and I was thrilled with the secret pleasure of commanding others not by ordering them, but through their passionate involvement. I saw myself as a person inspired by lofty motives, for I received no compensation for the work outside class; neither for sports activities, nor art, nor the long hours of work over those pots, nor for making toy furniture for the kindergarten. I expected that everyone would be pleased with my work (since my activities were described as work) but I was mistaken. The secret forces of destruction born by power operated according to their own laws; they divided, sowed mistrust, jealousy, and even envy. Although I did not yet know about this, the seeds were alive and were soon to sprout.

p It all began with the growing number of students joining my extra-curricular sessions.

p First came the girls.

p “We, too, want lessons in physical education like the boys!" said Zina Shugayeva.

p “Alright, we will begin this evening in the gymnasium and then we will continue together tomorrow morning.”

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p Serdelnikov, our physical education teacher, shrugged his shoulders and gave me the key to the gymnasium. I didn’t even notice his look of displeasure. 1 assumed that I was helping him since I was encouraging physical education.

p I hardly recognized the girls when I came to the gymnasium.

p Anechka was not embarrassed by the skimpy gym clothes, for everyone could see her strong points.

p She approached the rope, stretched herself as high as she could and with only a slight touch of her feet floated upwards. Her stomach merging with the thin line of her spine, she appeared unusually flexible and slender. During this entire performance Alia remained silent in a corner with her friends. Without her street clothes, Alia was unprotected—she pressed her shoulders together, and hid her awkward knees. Why is she so afraid of everything? I suddenly understood, she had an inferiority complex concerning the imperfections of her body; not enough in some places, too much in others...

p I repeated my words that a human being could achieve anything that he decided. Every individual should be beautiful. It was a must for everyone. Beauty was physical fitness and spiritual health. It was a search for harmonious solutions. At that point the students began to make suggestions.

p “What if one combines everything?”

p “Combines what?”

p “Everything! Art, theatre, physical education? ...All of this together!”

p “A marvellous idea,” I replied, for I had tried to bring the children to this thought on earlier occasions.

p Soon we began rehearsing special performances that called for an integration of training, learning roles and exercises.

p “No, Anechka, no, the colour of your dress does not suit you in this performance. It does not go with your eyes or your hair-do. Which shade would be better?" I ask Alia and Olya.

p “Pale blue, of course,” Olya replies.

p “Pink,” Alia suggests.

p “Pink is probably better. But slightly lilac.”

p As Anechka appears on the stage the audience voices its unanimous approval...

p Still each person seeks self-expression in a specific way. Alia was not enthusiastic about our lessons in comprehensive development; she was self-conscious about her body, and soon refused to come altogether.

In general there were many problems in education that sprang in Solenga and I did my best to solve them all.