Midshipmen are not only the heroes of a cult film. The history of the creation of the film “Midshipmen, Forward!” Midshipmen - who are they?

03.11.2019

“We can tear this midshipman to pieces, but he won’t say a damn thing. This is not Paris, not Vienna, not London - this is Russia! And in order to start your own game, you need to get to know these Russians!
The first of three films in a trilogy about midshipmen, the plot of which is based on the political and love intrigues of the Russian court during the time of Elizabeth.
The film starred: Sergei Zhigunov, Dmitry Kharatyan, Vladimir Shevelkov, Tatyana Lyutaeva, Olga Mashnaya, Mikhail Boyarsky, Evgeny Evstigneev, Vladislav Strzhelchik, Alexander Abdulov, Vladimir Balon, Innokenty Smoktunovsky, Victor Bortsov, Valery Afanasyev, Victor Pavlov, Vladimir Vinogradov, Evgeny Danchevsky, Alexander Pashutin, Nelly Pshennaya, Paul Butkevich, Semyon Farada, Boris Khimichev, Alexey Vanin, Tatyana Gavrilova, Galina Demina, Rimma Markova, Igor Yasulovich, Elena Tsyplakova, Lyudmila Nilskaya, Vladimir Steklov, Yaroslava Turyleva Director: Svetlana Druzhinina
The film premiered on January 1, 1988 (TV)

… “In the forties of the 18th century in Moscow, the Sukharevskaya Tower housed a navigation school founded by Peter I.” The film was created based on the book by Nina Sorotokina “Three from the Navigation School.” She was writing a novel for her children and at first did not think about publishing it, much less about the wild success that the film about midshipmen would have.
By profession, Nina Matveevna is an engineer for the construction of ports and hydraulic structures. In Troitsk, near Moscow, she taught at a construction technical school for eighteen years.
Druzhinina: “On January 1, 1983, the phone rang. A woman called. She offered me a published novel as material for a screenplay. We met her in the lobby of the Kino house. She introduced herself: Sorotokina Nina Matveevna. Engineer. Technical school teacher. From the bag I pulled out a voluminous red folder of enormous weight, which I barely carried home, and, throwing it away, forgot about it.
My children found it. They were very interested in the contents of the book. Yuri Nagibin also advised me to read Nina Sorotokina’s novel and pay attention to the author, who began writing at the age of 40. The novel was written firmly, in the traditions historical literature. I talked about him in our television association, and editor-in-chief got interested..."

They went to Pitsunda and here they typed the script on the same typewriter. Nagibin then made a merciless adjustment: he simply took and threw out everything unnecessary. The text has been halved.
Sorotokina: “Svetlana and I were passionate people; once we start weaving women’s lace, we can’t stop. And Nagibin removed everything unnecessary and, in the end, mercilessly cleaned out most of our bells and whistles.”
Druzhinina loved Soviet writer Veniamin Kaverina. The call from Kaverin’s “Two Captains” - “Fight and seek, find and not give up” inspired Druzhinina to name the film “Midshipmen Forward”

When filming began, the ensemble cast looked different. Alyosha Korsak was played by Yuri Moroz, Sophia - Marina Zudina. Druzhinina herself was supposed to appear in the image of the rebellious Anna Bestuzheva. First, Yuri Moroz left. He was then studying directing courses and had to film his thesis.
Oleg Menshikov was supposed to star in the role of Sasha Belov, but after Yuri Moroz left the film, the proposed acting ensemble fell apart, and Druzhinina had to look for a new actor for this role. Sergei Zhigunov at that time had just graduated from theater school, he had already acted in films, but did not play a single significant role, and participation in the film about midshipmen was truly his finest hour.

Soon Zudina left the picture. And then Dmitry Kharatyan and Olga Mashnaya appeared in the film. Druzhinina herself refused the role of Bestuzheva a week before filming, deciding that the profession of director and actress should not be interfered with. Fortunately, the dresses made for Svetlana Sergeevna fit like a glove on her successor Nelly Pshennaya.
The role of Nikita Olenev was supposed to be played by the son of Svetlana Druzhinina, several episodes were even filmed with him, but then he fell ill and the role was given to Shevelkov. The actor felt very uncomfortable, as the director subtly hinted to him that he had taken someone else’s place. Druzhinina did not invite him to the shooting of the second film, giving preference to Mikhail Mamaev.
In order to somehow explain to the audience where the charming Shevelkov had disappeared, a scene was invented where it turned out that now it was not Nikita Olenev himself, but his brother who would participate in the adventures of the midshipmen. But the audience clearly did not like the replacement, and perhaps it was the fact that the magnificent trinity broke up that was one of the reasons that the film “Vivat, midshipmen!”, released in 1991, was no longer a great success.

The guys were having fun filming. Dmitry Kharatyan and Vladimir Shevelkov were friends. Shevelkov was brought by Kharatyan and Zhigunov. They took Zhigunov because he rode a horse like Abdulov and fenced like D’Artagnan-Boyarsky. In the film, Dmitry Kharatyan is the only one who performs songs himself, and not only for himself, but also for Sergei Zhigunov.
Sergei Zhigunov: “We had good company, and we had fun filming. Dimka was a little on the side all the time - he has a calmer character. And Vovka was always our leader, he took part in all our adventures. Everything was very great." We did the stunts ourselves. Remember how Kharatyan stops four horses at full gallop?
Zhigunov was injured during filming. Sergei Zhigunov: “When we were preparing to star in Midshipmen, they told me: “No one rides a horse better than Abdulov and fights with swords more skillfully than Boyarsky.” I was smashed to pieces, but I dare to think that I was soon at least on an equal footing with them in horsemanship and fencing.”

Zhigunov fought with a professional fencer, knocked out his opponent’s blade according to the rules, and the sword hit him under the eyebrow. The cameraman had to hide Zhigunov’s wounded eye. Just like his wig. During the filming process, Sergei Zhigunov was drafted into the army, and then shaved his head. Further, his head was decorated with a wig.
The first “Midshipmen” were filmed over two summers, in Tver and its picturesque surroundings. They would have filmed one and two, but it so happened that Druzhinina fell from her horse during filming and broke her leg... By the way, the second - “winter” - “Midshipmen” was also not spared by being postponed to another year. We filmed in the Moscow region, it was winter, but there was no snow...
Tatyana Lyutaeva studied with her son Druzhinina at VGIK and it was he who proposed her candidacy for the role of the beautiful Anastasia Yaguzhinskaya. Svetlana Druzhinina, having watched her graduation performance “The Shadow” based on Schwartz, invited Tatyana to audition and immediately approved her for the role of Anastasia Yaguzhinskaya. This role became a bright debut for Tatyana Lyutaeva. After the release of this film in 1987, at the turn of the 20-21st millennium, many girls began to be given the name Anastasia, and Sophia also appeared.

And for Olga Mashnaya, the role of Sophia was far from the first in the cinema, but it was this role that made Olga Mashnaya incredibly popular throughout the entire Union.
Olga Mashnaya: “Our date in the forest with Alyosha - Dima Kharatyan was funny. Director Svetlana Druzhinina and cameraman Anatoly Mukasey came up with a beautiful romantic scene - they filmed through twigs and leaves.
I run towards Alyosha, run and run, birch trees and bushes - and involuntarily run out of the frame. Take after take, the film runs out. Then they tied me by the leg with a working rope, put the camera in the middle, and let me go around like a pony.
And so I met Alyosha, I hug him so that I can feel him all, but I don’t kiss him, and Kharatyan is surprised: “Why? Let's do it like in Hollywood! “And I wanted not like in Hollywood, but to play such a real Russian woman who “will stop a galloping horse and the hut will enter", whose love is tenderness, pity, and passion. This is how I saw my Sophia. They filmed love both in Hollywood and in Russian. My version was included in the picture.”

“I came from aggression to love. Sophia is an important role for me, since such a stereotype has already begun to take shape - they say, the actress is nervous, she can “throw a tantrum” and the like. And there were corresponding proposals. And although I like to play distinct characters, I don’t want to get stuck on one.
Therefore, the role of Sophia is to some extent transitional for me. She is a girl with a Russian character - simple, with a calm disposition, in a word, the embodiment of fidelity and love. I'm glad I played this role. However, both Sophia and the film itself could have been better.”
Half of the film’s success came from the excellent acting of the guys under the skillful leadership of Svetlana Druzhinina. Half is the output of the illustrious guard. Strzhelchik, Evstigneev, Abdulov, Boyarsky, Nelly Pshennaya, Bortsov, Smoktunovsky, Steklov, Pavlov, Farada...

The film also owes a lot of its success to the wonderful songs, the music for which was written by composer Viktor Lebedev. It was they who brought national fame to Viktor Lebedev. But their meeting with director Svetlana Druzhinina might not have happened. The director admitted that she was going to work with another composer. But the roads of love, albeit creative, were connected.
Victor Lebedev: “The only difficulty in the midshipmen is that Mark Rozovsky and Dunaevsky launched the musketeers. And I found myself in a situation where I had to write no worse - everyone was singing “it’s time, it’s time to rejoice”... and I had to too.” “Midshipmen” and “musketeers” competed for a long time.

Evil tongues even attributed the conflicts to the authors of the music. But they failed to quarrel. Viktor Lebedev has received many awards for his music for Midshipmen. And the composer himself does not hide the fact that it was this film that elevated him to the musical Olympus.
After the patriotic script about boys from a navigation school proposed by Sorotokina, director Svetlana Druzhinina became obsessed with the idea of recreating Russian history (the “Palace Revolutions” cycle) and began to reject any scripts not related to the theme of power. Not all of her works were successful.
In the sequels to Midshipmen, the mistake was to replace Shevelkov with another actor. As a result, Zhigunov left the film. There is only Kharatyan (Alyosha Korsak) left. The friendship fell apart. But the kind fervor of love for the Fatherland remained in Druzhinina’s subsequent themes.

Vladimir Shevelkov: “I think the picture is not very successful, and my participation in it is accidental. “Midshipmen” did not bring me any benefit personally and in my acting career to a certain extent, they put an end to it: they don’t offer serious roles after such work. Before this tape, I played the most different heroes: scum, drug addicts, lovers... And then they started offering me the roles of a quiet, lean, smooth boy. In general, the role of Olenev simply crushed me.”

Tatyana Lyutaeva: “I know Volodya’s position. He acted in films from an early age, so at the time of filming “Midshipmen” he no longer really wanted to work as an actor. He showed a directorial streak. For me, the role of Anastasia was my first film work, and the audience remembered me for it.
So what complaints can I have? "Midshipmen" are my pride. True, then I did what Svetlana Druzhinina showed me.”

Dmitry Kharatyan: “I didn’t play in the classics, I didn’t work with major psychological directors. And what we had to do was quite superficial characters. If you play, don’t play, you won’t earn creative capital. I follow with envy, for example, the fate of Oleg Menshikov.
He is from my generation, and we studied in the same walls, a year apart. Here he is - my ideal, a lot is subject to him: tragedy, comedy, grotesque, and psychological revelations. Now, if only I could do that... Or rather, I couldn’t, but... Maybe I can, but I just don’t know about it. Eh, if only they would give me one try...”

Zhigunov: “...We became very good friends, and when I was galloping across the carriage (remember?), the main thing for me was not to save some papers, but to save my friend. At such moments you forget whether this is a film or reality.
In general, it must be said that three friends is a classic scheme both in life and in cinema. Three is very good. Wonderful situation - real male friendship, but also honor, love, and devotion to the Motherland...”
Unfortunately, the filmmakers were unable to maintain good relations. Svetlana Druzhinina stopped communicating with Kharatyan and Zhigunov. Later, the midshipmen also broke off relations.
And the film was destined for a long and happy life and new generations watch and review it. For many years now, this film has not lost its charm and, perhaps, naive charm. It shows what true friendship and real human relationships are like.

Sections: Literature

The purpose of the lesson is to create conditions for:

formation in students of the concepts of “autobiographical work”, “hero of the work”, “author” through the analysis of the chapter “Midshipman” “Tales of Life”;
developing skills in analyzing literary and life materials, skills in expressive, conscious reading, and working in a team;
education careful attitude by the way, to the art of speech, education through familiarization with the biography of K. G. Paustovsky.

Materials and equipment: personal computer, multimedia projector, interactive whiteboard, training board, workbook.

Lesson format: frontal, individual, pair.

Lesson delivery methods: heuristic, explanatory and illustrative, critical thinking technology, ICT.

Lesson type: lesson on learning new material.

Time: 1 academic hour (45 minutes).

Lesson progress

I. Calling stage.

1. Opening remarks teachers.

The teacher focuses the children's attention on the fact that the selection of works that they study in the 6th grade allows them to imagine the lives of their peers, presented by different authors.

2. Brainstorming.

Task 1.

Name the character traits of literary characters your peers.

At this stage, all versions are accepted and recorded by the teacher on the board.

Task 2.

Select from the listed those qualities that you think you possess.

What do you think brings you and literary heroes together? Why is this happening?

What work can we call autobiographical?

3. Goal setting.

The teacher invites students to independently determine the topic of the lesson and goals, then the proposed options are compared with the teacher’s option.

II. Conception stage.

2. Working with text. Reading “with stops” and commented.

Before reading each passage, the teacher asks the children to think about what this or that part of the text may be devoted to, and after reading, compare the proposed version with the available literary material .

– The chapter is called “Midshipman,” who do you think a midshipman is? Why did the author title this chapter this way?

Students express their assumptions, all versions are accepted.

"Midshipman"

Stage 1.

…One spring I was sitting in Mariinsky Park and reading “Treasure Island” by Stevenson. Sister Galya sat nearby and also read. Her summer hat with green ribbons lay on the bench. The wind moved the ribbons.

Galya was short-sighted, very trusting, and it was almost impossible to get her out of her good-natured state.

It had rained in the morning, but now the clear spring sky shone above us. Only belated drops of rain flew from the lilacs.

A girl with bows in her hair stopped in front of us and began jumping over the rope. She stopped me from reading. I shook the lilac. A small rain fell noisily on the girl and Galya. The girl stuck her tongue out at me and ran away, and Galya shook the raindrops off the book and continued reading.

And at that moment I saw a man who poisoned me for a long time with dreams of my unrealistic future.

– Did the initial versions match? Have we found out who the midshipman is? Who did we meet? What will we talk about next?

A tall midshipman with a tanned, calm face walked easily along the alley. A straight black broadsword hung from his lacquered belt. Black ribbons with bronze anchors fluttered in the quiet wind. He was all in black. Only the bright gold of the stripes set off his strict form.

In land-based Kyiv, where we hardly saw sailors, this was an alien from the distant legendary world of winged ships, the frigate “Pallada”, from the world of all the oceans, seas, all port cities, all the winds and all the charms that were associated with the picturesque work of seafarers . An ancient broadsword with a black hilt seemed to have appeared in the Mariinsky Park from the pages of Stevenson.

The midshipman passed by, crunching on the sand. I got up and followed him. Due to myopia, Galya did not notice my disappearance.

– Were our assumptions correct? Who is a midshipman? What is a frigate, hilt? What new did you learn about the hero? What will we talk about next?

My whole dream of the sea came true in this man. I often imagined seas, foggy and golden from the evening calm, distant voyages, when the whole world changed, like a quick kaleidoscope, behind the porthole windows. My God, if only someone had thought to give me at least a piece of fossilized rust, broken from an old anchor! I would treasure it like a jewel.

The midshipman looked around. On the black ribbon of his cap, I read the mysterious word: “Azimuth.” Later I learned that this was the name of the training ship of the Baltic Fleet.

I followed him along Elizavetinskaya Street, then along Institutskaya and Nikolaevskaya. The midshipman saluted the infantry officers gracefully and casually. I was ashamed in front of him for these baggy Kyiv warriors. The midshipman looked around several times, and at the corner of Meringovskaya he stopped and called me over.

– What is true in our assumptions? What is azimuth? What did the hero dream of? How will the meeting with the midshipman end?

“Boy,” he asked mockingly, “why were you in tow behind me?”

I blushed and didn't answer.

“Everything is clear: he dreams of being a sailor,” the midshipman guessed, for some reason speaking about me in the third person.

The midshipman put his thin hand on my shoulder:

- Let's get to Khreshchatyk.

We walked side by side. I was afraid to look up and saw only the strong boots of a midshipman, polished to an incredible shine.

On Khreshchatyk, the midshipman came with me to the Semadeni coffee shop, ordered two servings of pistachio ice cream and two glasses of water. We were served ice cream on a small three-legged marble table. It was very cold and covered with numbers: stockbrokers gathered at Semadeni’s and counted their profits and losses on tables.

We ate the ice cream in silence. The midshipman took from his wallet a photograph of a magnificent corvette with a sail rig and a wide funnel and handed it to me:

- Take it as a souvenir. This is my ship. I rode it to Liverpool.

He shook my hand firmly and left. I sat there a little longer until my sweaty neighbors in boaters started looking back at me. Then I awkwardly left and ran to the Mariinsky Park. The bench was empty. Galya left. I guessed that the midshipman pitied me, and for the first time I learned that pity leaves a bitter aftertaste in the soul.

-What is a corvette? What conclusion does the hero make after talking with the midshipman? Could we have foreseen such an outcome? How does this characterize the hero? What could be the consequences of the meeting, other than a bitter conclusion?

Stage 5.

After this meeting, the desire to become a sailor tormented me for many years. I was eager to go to the sea. The first time I saw him briefly was in Novorossiysk, where I went for a few days with my father. But this was not enough.

For hours I sat over the atlas, examined the coasts of the oceans, looked for unknown seaside towns, capes, islands, and river mouths.

I came up with a complex game. I compiled a long list of ships with sonorous names: “Polar Star”, “Walter Scott”, “Khingan”, “Sirius”. This list swelled every day. I was the owner of the largest fleet in the world.

Of course, I was sitting in my shipping office, in the smoke of cigars, among colorful posters and schedules. Wide windows looked out, naturally, onto the embankment. The yellow masts of steamships stuck out right next to the windows, and good-natured elms rustled behind the walls. Steamboat smoke flew cheekily into the windows, mingling with the smell of rotten brine and new, cheerful matting.

I have come up with a list of amazing voyages for my ships. There was no more forgotten corner of the earth wherever they went. They even visited the island of Tristan d'Acuña.

I removed ships from one voyage and sent them to another. I followed the voyages of my ships and unmistakably knew where the Admiral Istomin was today and where the Flying Dutchman was: the Istomin loaded bananas in Singapore, and the Flying Dutchman unloaded flour in the Faroe Islands.

In order to manage such a vast shipping enterprise, I needed a lot of knowledge. I read guidebooks, ship's handbooks and everything that had even a remote connection to the sea.

That was the first time I heard the word “meningitis” from my mother.

“He’ll get to God knows what with his games,” my mother once said. - As if all this would not end in meningitis.

I have heard that meningitis is a disease of boys who learn to read too early. So I just grinned at my mother’s fears.

It all ended with the parents deciding to go with the whole family to the sea for the summer.

Now I guess that my mother hoped to cure me with this trip from my excessive passion for the sea. She thought that I would be, as always happens, disappointed by a direct confrontation with what I so passionately strived for in my dreams. And she was right, but only partly.

– Did our initial ideas about the content and hero of the work coincide? What have we learned about the main character?

3. Working with the table of associations in groups.

Fill in the columns of the table dedicated to the hero of the work. Present results orally and in writing.

III. Reflection stage.

Analysis of group work results.

Working with syncwine about K.G. Paustovsky.

Listen to the syncwine about K. G. Paustovsky.

Fill in the columns of the table dedicated to the writer.

Based on the data in the table, answer the question: “Can we call “The Tale of Life” an autobiographical work?”

Homework

chapter from the book “The Tale of Life”

The narrative begins with a description of spring in the city of Kyiv, where K. Paustovsky spent his childhood years. With warmth and lyricism, he describes the awakening of nature. “On Bibikovsky Boulevard, sticky pyramidal poplars were blooming. They filled the surrounding streets with the smell of incense. The chestnut trees were throwing out their first leaves - transparent, crumpled, covered with reddish fluff... May beetles and butterflies flew into the tram cars. Nightingales sang in the front gardens at night.”

Among all this beauty

Trips out of town seemed completely unnecessary to the boy Kostya. And he could not understand his mother’s predilection for necessarily taking the children out to summer cottages for the weekend - Boyarka, Pushcha Voditsa or Darnitsa. He was bored among the monotonous dacha plots, looked indifferently in the boyar forest at “the stunted alley of the poet Nadson and did not like Darnitsa for the trampled earth near the pine trees and the loose sand mixed with cigarette butts.” Kiev, drowning in lilacs and poplar fluff, excited him much more.

The boy's greatest delight was in the gardens, where he spent all day long. There he played, read, learned lessons and knew all the nooks and crannies.

He came home only to have dinner and spend the night. There were many gardens and parks in Kyiv - the Botanical, Tsarsky and Merchant Gardens, where the orchestra played all summer, and nothing interfered with listening to the music except the lingering steamship whistles coming from the Dnieper. But most of all Kostya loved the Mariinsky Park, which hung over the Dnieper. “The walls of purple and white lilac, three times the height of a man, rang and swayed from the multitude of bees. Fountains flowed among the lawns.”

It was in this Mariinsky Park that the boy once saw a man who poisoned him with dreams “of an unrealistic future.” Kostya sat there with his sister Galya and read Stevenson’s “Treasure Island”. Galya also read the book. An unfamiliar girl with bows in her hair stopped near her brother and sister and began jumping over a rope. Galya, short-sighted, kind and trusting, was not disturbed by her. But the stranger was disturbing Kostya. And he shook the lilac tree near which they were sitting, and drops from the recent rain fell on the girls. Galya wiped the drops off the book and continued reading. And the stranger stuck her tongue out at him and ran away.

And at that moment Kostya noticed that “a tall midshipman with a tanned, calm face walked easily along the alley. A straight black broadsword hung from his lacquered belt. Black ribbons with bronze anchors fluttered in the quiet wind. He was all in black. Only the bright gold of the stripes set off his strict form.”

In land-based Kyiv, where residents hardly saw sailors, the midshipman seemed to the boy to be a stranger from the distant legendary world of winged ships, “from the world of all oceans, seas, all port cities, all winds and all the charms that were associated with the picturesque work of seafarers.”

When the midshipman passed by, Kostya got up and followed him. Due to myopia, Galya did not notice her brother’s disappearance. And for Kostya, this man became the embodiment of all his dreams. He had long dreamed of sea travel. He often imagined seas, “foggy and golden from the evening calm, distant voyages, when the whole world changes like a fast kaleidoscope behind the porthole windows.” “My God, if only someone had thought of giving me at least a piece of fossilized rust, broken from an old anchor! I would treasure it like a jewel.”

The midshipman looked around. On the black ribbon of his cap, Kostya read the word “Azimuth,” which was incomprehensible and mysterious to him. Later he learned that this was the name of a training ship of the Baltic Fleet.

So they walked first along Elizavetinskaya Street, then along Institutskaya and Nikolaevskaya. The midshipman saluted the infantry officers gracefully and casually. And Kostya felt burning shame for these baggy ground warriors.

The midshipman looked around several times, and then stopped, called the boy and tried to find out why he was following him. “Boy,” he asked mockingly, “why are you in tow behind me?” Kostya, flushed with embarrassment, did not answer. But everything was clear to the midshipman. “Everything is clear: he dreams of being a sailor,” the midshipman guessed, speaking for some reason about me in the third person.” “I’m short-sighted,” the boy answered, his voice falling.

The midshipman put his thin hand on his shoulder and suggested that he walk to Khreshchatyk. They walked side by side, but Kostya did not dare to raise his eyes and saw only “the midshipman’s boots polished to an incredible shine.”

On Khreshchatyk, the midshipman took the boy to a pastry shop and ordered two servings of pistachio ice cream and two glasses of water. They ate the ice cream in silence. Then the midshipman took from his wallet a photograph of a magnificent corvette with a sailing rig and a wide funnel and gave it to Kostya as a souvenir, explaining that this was his ship on which he sailed to Liverpool.

Then he shook the boy's hand firmly and left. And Kostya sat for a little longer until the “sweaty neighbors in boaters” started looking back at him.

Then he went out and ran to the Mariinsky Park, where he left his sister. But the bench was empty. Galya left. Kostya decided that the midshipman pitied him and “for the first time learned that pity leaves a bitter aftertaste in the soul.”

After this meeting, the desire to become a sailor tormented him for several years. He was eager to go to the sea. The first time he saw him was in Novorossiysk, where he went for several days with his father. But this was not enough for him.

He sat for hours over the atlas, examined the shores of the seas and oceans, looked for unknown seaside towns, capes, islands, and river mouths. Kostya came up with a complex game. He compiled a long list of ships with sonorous names: “Polar Star”, “Walter Scott”, “Khingan”, “Sirius”. In his imagination, he was the owner of the largest fleet in the world.

He imagined himself sitting in his shipping office, “in the smoke of cigarettes, among colorful posters and schedules.” The windows of this office, naturally, overlooked the embankment. And right next to them the yellow masts of steamships stuck out, and good-natured elms rustled behind the walls. “The steamboat smoke flew cheekily into the windows, mingling with the smell of rotten brine and new cheerful matting.”

The boy came up with a list of amazing voyages for his ships. They did not miss a single most forgotten and remote corner of the earth. And they even visited the island of Tristan de’Acuña.

He removed ships from one voyage and transferred them to another. And he unmistakably knew where each of his ships was currently located. “I knew where Admiral Istomin was today and where the Flying Dutchman was: Istomin was loading bananas in Singapore, and the Flying Dutchman was unloading flour in the Faroe Islands.”

In order to manage such a vast enterprise, he needed a lot of different knowledge. The boy read dictionaries and guidebooks, ship's handbooks and everything that was even remotely related to the sea.

This all-consuming hobby soon began to cause anxiety in Kostya’s mother. It was then that he first heard the word “meningitis” from her.

“He’ll get to God knows what with his games,” my mother once said. “As if it wouldn’t end in meningitis.”

Kostya heard that meningitis is a disease of boys who “learned to read too early.” And he just grinned in response to my mother’s fears.

In the end, the parents decided to go to the sea with the whole family for the summer. Subsequently, Kostya realized that with this trip his mother hoped to cure her son of his hobby. She thought that he, as most often happens, would be disappointed by the direct confrontation with what he so passionately strived for in his dreams. And she turned out to be right, but only partly.

The book by K. G. Paustovsky “The Tale of Life” is an autobiographical work. That is, a work in which the author talks about himself and the events of his life. It includes five stories that were written by him over several years and cover a long period of the author’s life - from early childhood, which took place in the city of Kiev, before mature years. He describes all the hardships that befell him during the years of the revolution and civil war. His wanderings in the south of Russia, the Caucasus and Transcaucasia.

“Midshipman” is a chapter from the story “Distant Years,” entirely dedicated to the childhood and adolescence of K. Paustovsky. In this chapter, the author tells us about his cherished boyhood dream - a dream of long journeys, travel, and sea adventures. A bright and unattainable dream that did not let him go for many years. Although he knew that he would never be able to bring it to life. He, a modest and shy boy with poor eyesight, will never become a sailor. But the more he understood this, the more keenly everything connected with the sea worried him. And it is unknown how the midshipman who ended up in land Kyiv became for the boy the embodiment of all his dreams. Kostya himself does not know why and why he is following him. When he asks him this question, he does not find an answer. He just can't help but go. The dream itself beckons him with its wing.

But the midshipman understands everything without words. Once upon a time he himself was probably the same boy who desperately dreamed of the sea. And he understands the excitement and delight of the unfamiliar boy. He can’t help him in any way, but he understands his dream, his passion and irresistible desire for the sea and cannot simply brush it aside.

He takes Kostya to a pastry shop, treats him to ice cream and gives him a photo of his ship. It seems to Kostya that this act was dictated by pity, and this pity leaves a bitter aftertaste in his soul.

But this is not just the pity of an adult for a naive and enthusiastic boy. In the midshipman’s action, one feels delicate respect for a person who is capable of dreaming and striving to achieve his dream, no matter what.

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Paustovsky midshipmen

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1 Konstantin Georgievich Paustovsky The story of life Chapters from the story Book one Distant years Chapter Midshipman Spring in Kyiv began with the flood of the Dnieper. One had only to leave the city on Vladimirskaya Hill, and the bluish sea immediately opened before one’s eyes. But, besides the flood of the Dnieper, another flood of sunshine, freshness, warm and fragrant wind began in Kyiv. Sticky pyramidal poplars were blooming on Bibikovsky Boulevard. They filled the surrounding streets with the smell of incense. The chestnut trees were throwing out their first leaves, transparent, crumpled, and covered with reddish fluff. When yellow and pink candles bloomed on the chestnut trees, spring was in full swing. Waves of coolness, the damp breath of young grass, and the sound of recently blossoming leaves poured into the streets from centuries-old gardens. Caterpillars crawled along the sidewalks even on Khreshchatyk. The wind blew dried petals into piles. May beetles and butterflies flew into tram cars. Nightingales sang in the front gardens at night. Poplar fluff, like Black Sea foam, rolled onto the panels like a surf. Dandelions were yellowing along the edges of the pavements. Striped sun awnings were stretched over the wide open windows of the pastry shop and coffee shops. Lilacs, sprinkled with water, stood on restaurant tables. Young Kiev residents were looking for five-petal flowers in lilac clusters. Their faces under their straw summer hats took on a matte yellowish color. The time for the Kyiv gardens had come. In the spring I spent my days in the gardens. I played there, studied lessons, read. He only came home to have dinner and spend the night. I knew every corner of the vast Botanical Garden with its ravines, pond and thick shadow of century-old linden alleys. But most of all I loved the Mariinsky Park in Lipki near the palace. It hung over the Dnieper. The walls of purple and white lilac, three times the height of a man, rang and swayed from the multitude of bees. Fountains flowed among the lawns. A wide belt of gardens stretched over the red clay cliffs of the Dnieper Mariinsky and Palace parks, Tsarsky and Merchant gardens. From the Merchant Garden there was a famous view of Podol. The people of Kiev were very proud of this view. A symphony orchestra played in the Merchant Garden all summer. Nothing interfered with listening to music, except for the drawn-out steamship whistles coming from the Dnieper. The last garden on the Dnieper bank was Vladimirskaya Gorka. There stood a monument to Prince Vladimir with a large bronze cross in his hand. Light bulbs were screwed into the cross. In the evenings they were lit, and the fiery cross hung high in the sky above the Kyiv steep slopes. The city was so beautiful in the spring that I did not understand my mother’s passion for obligatory Sunday trips to the summer cottages of Boyarka, Pushcha Voditsa or Darnitsa. I was bored among the monotonous dacha plots of Pushcha Voditsa, I looked indifferently in the boyar forest at the stunted alley of the poet Nadson: and

2 loved Darnitsa for the trampled earth near the pine trees and the loose sand mixed with cigarette butts. One spring I was sitting in Mariinsky Park and reading Stevenson’s “Treasure Island”: . Sister Galya sat nearby and also read. Her summer hat with green ribbons lay on the bench. The wind moved the ribbons, Galya was short-sighted, very trusting, and it was almost impossible to get her out of her good-natured state. It had rained in the morning, but now the clear spring sky shone above us. Only belated drops of rain flew from the lilacs. A girl with bows in her hair stopped in front of us and began jumping over the rope. She stopped me from reading. I shook the lilac. A small rain fell noisily on the girl and Galya. The girl stuck her tongue out at me and ran away, and Galya shook the raindrops off the book and continued reading. And at that moment I saw a man who poisoned me for a long time with dreams of my unrealistic future. A tall midshipman with a tanned, calm face walked easily along the alley. A straight black broadsword hung from his lacquered belt. Black ribbons with bronze anchors fluttered in the quiet wind. He was all in black. Only the bright gold of the stripes set off his strict form. In land Kyiv, where we hardly saw sailors, it was an alien from the distant legendary world of winged ships, the frigate "Pallada": from the world of all oceans, seas, all port cities, all winds and all the charms that were associated with pictorial work seafarers. An ancient broadsword with a black hilt seemed to have appeared in the Mariinsky Park from the pages of Stevenson. The midshipman passed by, crunching on the sand. I got up and followed him. Due to myopia, Galya did not notice my disappearance. My whole dream of the sea came true in this man. I often imagined seas, foggy and golden from the evening calm, distant voyages, when the whole world changed, like a quick kaleidoscope, behind the porthole windows. My God, if only someone had thought to give me at least a piece of fossilized rust, broken from an old anchor! I would treasure it like a jewel. The midshipman looked around. On the black ribbon of his cap, I read the mysterious word: “Azimuth.” Later I learned that this was the name of the training ship of the Baltic Fleet. I followed him along Elizavetinskaya Street, then along Institutskaya and Nikolaevskaya. The midshipman saluted the infantry officers gracefully and casually. I was ashamed in front of him for these baggy Kyiv warriors. The midshipman looked around several times, and at the corner of Meringovskaya he stopped and called me over. Boy, he asked mockingly, why were you in tow with me? I blushed and didn't answer. Everything is clear: he dreams of being a sailor, the midshipman guessed, speaking for some reason about me in the third person. “I’m short-sighted,” I answered in a depressed voice. The midshipman put his thin hand on my shoulder: Let's get to Khreshchatyk. We walked side by side. I was afraid to look up and saw only the strong boots of a midshipman, polished to an incredible shine. On Khreshchatyk, the midshipman came with me to the Semadeni coffee shop, ordered two servings of pistachio ice cream and two glasses of water. We were served ice cream on a small three-legged marble table. It was very cold and covered with numbers: stockbrokers gathered at Semadeni’s and counted their profits and losses on tables.

3 We ate the ice cream in silence. The midshipman took from his wallet a photograph of a magnificent corvette with a sailing rig and a wide funnel and handed it to me: Take this as a souvenir. This is my ship. I rode it to Liverpool. He shook my hand firmly and left. I sat there a little longer until my sweaty neighbors in boaters started looking back at me. Then I awkwardly left and ran to the Mariinsky Park. The bench was empty. Galya left. I guessed that the midshipman pitied me, and for the first time I learned that pity leaves a bitter aftertaste in the soul. After this meeting, the desire to become a sailor tormented me for many years. I was eager to go to the sea. The first time I saw him briefly was in Novorossiysk, where I went for a few days with my father. But this was not enough. For hours I sat over the atlas, examined the coasts of the oceans, looked for unknown seaside towns, capes, islands, and river mouths. I came up with a complex game. I compiled a long list of ships with sonorous names: “Polar Star”, “Walter Scott”, “Khingan”, “Sirius”. This list swelled every day. I was the owner of the largest fleet in the world. Of course, I was sitting in my shipping office, in the smoke of cigars, among colorful posters and schedules. Wide windows looked out, naturally, onto the embankment. The yellow masts of steamships stuck out right next to the windows, and good-natured elms rustled behind the walls. Steamboat smoke flew cheekily into the windows, mingling with the smell of rotten brine and new, cheerful matting. I have come up with a list of amazing voyages for my ships. There was no more forgotten corner of the earth wherever they went. They even visited the island of Tristan d'Acuña. I removed ships from one voyage and sent them to another. I followed the voyages of my ships and unmistakably knew where the Admiral Istomin was today and where the Flying Dutchman was: the Istomin loaded bananas in Singapore, and the Flying Dutchman unloaded flour on the Farree Islands. In order to manage such a vast shipping enterprise, I needed a lot of knowledge. I read guidebooks, ship's handbooks and everything that had even a remote connection to the sea. That was the first time I heard the word “meningitis” from my mother. He'll get to God knows what with his games, Mom once said. No matter how it all ends in meningitis. I've heard that meningitis is a disease of boys who learn to read too early. So I just grinned at my mother’s fears. It all ended with the parents deciding to go with the whole family to the sea for the summer. Now I guess that my mother hoped to cure me with this trip from my excessive passion for the sea. She thought that I would be, as always happens, disappointed by a direct confrontation with what I so passionately strived for in my dreams. And she was right, but only partly. Chapter What heaven looks like One day my mother solemnly announced that the other day we were going to the Black Sea for the whole summer, to the small town of Gelendzhik, near Novorossiysk. It was probably impossible to choose best place, than Gelendzhik, in order to disappoint me in my passion for the sea and the south. Gelendzhik was then a very dusty and hot town without any vegetation. All the greenery for many kilometers around was destroyed by the cruel Novorossiysk nor'easter winds. Only thorny bushes

4 keep-trees and a stunted acacia with yellow dry flowers grew in the front gardens. From high mountains it was hot. At the end of the bay a cement plant was smoking. But Gelendzhik Bay was very good. In its clear and warm water, large jellyfish floated like pink and blue flowers. Spotted flounders and bug-eyed gobies lay on the sandy bottom. The surf threw red algae onto the shore, rotten floats from fishing nets and pieces of dark green bottles rolled in by the waves. The sea after Gelendzhik has not lost its charm for me. It only became simpler and therefore more beautiful than in my elegant dreams. In Gelendzhik I became friends with an elderly boatman Anastas. He was Greek, originally from the city of Volo. He had a new sailing boat, white with a red keel and grating washed to gray. Anastas took summer residents on a boat ride. He was famous for his dexterity and composure, and my mother sometimes let me go alone with Anastas. One day Anastas walked out with me from the bay into the open sea. I will never forget the horror and delight I felt when the sail, inflated, tilted the boat so low that the water rushed at the level of the side. Noisy huge waves rolled towards me, shining through with greenery and dousing my face with salty dust. I grabbed the shrouds, I wanted to go back to the shore, but Anastas, holding the pipe between his teeth, purred something, and then asked: What did your mother pay for these dudes? Ay, good dudes! He nodded at my soft Caucasian dude shoes. My legs were shaking. I didn't answer. Anastas yawned and said: Nothing! Small shower warm shower. You will dine with gusto. You won’t have to ask to eat for mom and dad! He turned the boat casually and confidently. She scooped up the water, and we rushed into the bay, diving and jumping out onto the crests of the waves. They left from under the stern with a menacing noise. My heart sank and sank. Suddenly Anastas began to sing. I stopped trembling and listened to this song in bewilderment: From Batum to Sukhum From Sukhum to Batum A boy ran, dragging a box A boy fell, breaking the box To this song, we lowered the sail and quickly approached the pier, where the pale mother was waiting. Anastas picked me up, put me on the pier and said: Now you have it salty, madam. Already has a habit of the sea. One day my father hired a ruler, and we drove from Gelendzhik to the Mikhailovsky Pass. At first, the gravel road ran along the slope of bare and dusty mountains. We crossed bridges over ravines where there was not a drop of water. The same clouds of gray dry cotton wool lay on the mountains all day, clinging to the peaks. I was thirsty. The red-haired Cossack cab driver turned around and said that I should wait until the pass, where I’ll get a tasty drink and cold water. But I didn’t believe the cab driver. The dryness of the mountains and the lack of water frightened me. I looked longingly at the dark and fresh strip of sea. It was impossible to drink from it, but at least you could bathe in its cool water. The road rose higher and higher. Suddenly a breath of freshness hit our faces.

5 The very pass! said the cabman, stopped the horses, got off and put iron brakes under the wheels. From the ridge of the mountain we saw huge and dense forests. They stretched in waves across the mountains to the horizon. Here and there red granite cliffs jutted out of the greenery, and in the distance I saw a peak ablaze with ice and snow. Nord-Ost doesn’t reach here, the cab driver said. This is paradise! The line began to descend. Immediately a thick shadow covered us. In the impassable thicket of trees we heard the murmur of water, the whistle of birds and the rustle of leaves agitated by the midday wind. The lower we went, the thicker the forest became and the shady the road. A clear stream was already running along its side. It washed through multi-colored stones, touched purple flowers with its stream and made them bow and tremble, but could not tear them away from the rocky ground and carry them down into the gorge. Mom took water from the stream into a mug and gave it to me to drink. The water was so cold that the mug immediately became covered with sweat. It smells like ozone, my father said. I took a deep breath. I didn’t know what it smelled like around me, but it seemed to me that I was covered in a heap of branches soaked in fragrant rain. The vines clung to our heads. And here and there, on the slopes of the road, some shaggy flower poked out from under a stone and looked with curiosity at our line and at the gray horses, raising their heads and performing solemnly, as if in a parade, so as not to gallop off and roll out the line. There's a lizard! said mom. Where? Over there. Do you see the hazel tree? And to the left is a red stone in the grass. See above. Do you see the yellow corolla? This is an azalea. A little to the right of the azalea, on a fallen beech tree, near the very root. Look, do you see such a shaggy red root in dry soil and some tiny blue flowers? So here it is next to him. I saw a lizard. But while I found it, I had a wonderful journey through hazel, redstone, azalea flower and fallen beech. “So this is what it is, the Caucasus!” I thought. This is paradise! repeated the cab driver, turning off the highway into a narrow grassy clearing in the forest. Now let's unharness the horses and go swimming. We drove into such a thicket and the branches hit us in the face so much that we had to stop the horses, get off the line and continue on foot. The line moved slowly behind us. We came out into a clearing in a green gorge. Crowds of tall dandelions stood in the lush grass like white islands. Under the thick beech trees we saw an old empty barn. He stood on the bank of a noisy mountain river. She poured tightly over the stones clear water, hissed and carried away many air bubbles along with the water. While the driver unharnessed and went with father to get firewood for the fire, we washed ourselves in the river. Our faces burned with heat after washing. We wanted to immediately go up the river, but mother spread a tablecloth on the grass, took out provisions and said that until we had eaten, she would not let us go anywhere. I choked and ate ham sandwiches and cold rice porridge with raisins, but it turned out that I was in a completely unnecessary hurry; the stubborn copper kettle did not want to boil on the fire. It must have been because the water from the river was completely icy. Then the kettle boiled so unexpectedly and violently that it flooded the fire. We drank strong tea and began to hurry father to go into the forest. The driver said that we had to be on our guard, because there were a lot of people in the forest. wild boars. He explained to us that if we see small holes dug in the ground, then these are the places where wild boars sleep at night.

6 Mom got worried, she couldn’t walk with us, she had shortness of breath, but the driver calmed her down, noting that the boar needed to be deliberately teased so that it would rush at the person. We went up the river. We made our way through the thicket, stopping every minute and calling to each other to show us the granite pools carved out by the river, in which trout flashed with blue sparks, huge green beetles with long mustaches, foamy grumpy waterfalls, horsetails taller than we were, thickets of forest anemone and clearings with peonies . Borya came across a small dusty pit that looked like a child's bath. We walked around it carefully. Apparently this was a wild boar's roosting area. The father went ahead. He started calling us. We made our way to it through the buckthorn, avoiding huge mossy boulders. Father stood near a strange structure overgrown with blackberries. Four smoothly hewn gigantic stones were covered, like a roof, by a fifth hewn stone. It turned out to be a stone house. There was a hole punched in one of the side stones, but it was so small that even I couldn’t get through it. There were several such stone buildings around. These are dolmens, said the father. Ancient burial grounds of the Scythians. Or maybe these are not burial grounds at all. Until now, scientists cannot find out who, why and how built these dolmens. I was sure that dolmens were the dwellings of long-extinct dwarf people. But I didn’t tell my father about this, since Borya was with us: he would have made me laugh. We returned to Gelendzhik completely burned by the sun, drunk from fatigue and the forest air. I fell asleep and through my sleep I felt the heat blowing over me and heard the distant murmur of the sea. Since then, in my imagination, I have become the owner of another magnificent country of the Caucasus. A passion for Lermontov, abreks, and Shamil began. Mom was worried again. Now, in adulthood, I remember with gratitude my childhood hobbies. They taught me a lot. But I was not at all like the noisy and enthusiastic boys choking with saliva from excitement, giving no rest to anyone. On the contrary, I was very shy and did not pester anyone with my hobbies.

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FINAL WORK 1 ON READING FOR 3rd GRADE (2012/2013 academic year) Option 1 School Class 3 Last name, first name INSTRUCTIONS for STUDENTS Now you will do reading work. First you need to read the text,

“Cheburashka on the Road” (game entertainment based on traffic rules for older groups) Purpose: to reinforce the rules of the road through games, poems and songs. Equipment: Cheburashka costume, Shapoklyak, cars on a stick

6 CHAPTER ONE, in which we meet Winnie the Pooh and several bees Well, here is Winnie the Pooh. As you can see, he goes down the stairs after his friend Christopher Robin, head down,

Natural phenomena 1. Watch the presentation. Remember natural phenomena. Rain Rain is precipitation that falls in the form of drops of water. The water droplets in the clouds become too heavy and begin to fall to the ground.

Abstract n.o.d. in ecology in the senior group M.B.D.O.U. “C.R.R. D.S. 19" Nakhodka Educator: Shcherbinskaya E.A. OBJECTIVES: to give children an idea of planet Earth; atmosphere; expand knowledge about the role of water

MIDSHIPMAN

Spring in Kyiv began with the flood of the Dnieper. One had only to leave the city on Vladimirskaya Hill, and the bluish sea immediately opened before one’s eyes.

But, besides the flood of the Dnieper, another flood began in Kyiv - sunshine, freshness, warm and fragrant wind.

Sticky pyramidal poplars were blooming on Bibikovsky Boulevard. They filled the surrounding streets with the smell of incense. The chestnut trees were throwing out their first leaves - transparent, crumpled, covered with reddish fluff.

When yellow and pink candles bloomed on the chestnut trees, spring was in full swing. Waves of coolness, the damp breath of young grass, and the sound of recently blossoming leaves poured into the streets from centuries-old gardens.

Caterpillars crawled along the sidewalks even on Khreshchatyk. The wind blew dried petals into piles. May beetles and butterflies flew into tram cars. Nightingales sang in the front gardens at night. Poplar fluff, like Black Sea foam, rolled onto the panels like a surf. Dandelions were yellowing along the edges of the pavements.

Striped sun awnings were stretched over the wide open windows of the pastry shop and coffee shops. Lilacs, sprinkled with water, stood on restaurant tables. Young Kiev residents were looking for five-petal flowers in lilac clusters. Their faces under their straw summer hats took on a matte yellowish color.

The time for the Kyiv gardens had come. In the spring I spent my days in the gardens. I played there, studied lessons, read. He only came home to have dinner and spend the night.

I knew every corner of the huge Botanical Garden with its ravines, pond and dense shadow of hundred-year-old linden alleys.

But most of all I loved the Mariinsky Park in Lipki near the palace. It hung over the Dnieper. The walls of purple and white lilac, three times the height of a man, rang and swayed from the multitude of bees. Fountains flowed among the lawns.

A wide belt of gardens stretched over the red clay cliffs of the Dnieper - Mariinsky and Palace parks, Tsarsky and Merchant gardens. From the Merchant Garden there was a famous view of Podol. The people of Kiev were very proud of this view. A symphony orchestra played in the Merchant Garden all summer. Nothing interfered with listening to music, except for the drawn-out steamship whistles coming from the Dnieper.

The last garden on the Dnieper bank was Vladimirskaya Gorka. There stood a monument to Prince Vladimir with a large bronze cross in his hand. Light bulbs were screwed into the cross. In the evenings they were lit, and the fiery cross hung high in the sky above the Kyiv steep slopes.

The city was so beautiful in the spring that I did not understand my mother’s passion for obligatory Sunday trips to summer cottages - Boyarka, Pushcha Voditsa or Darnitsa. I was bored among the monotonous dacha plots of Pushcha Voditsa, looked indifferently in the boyar forest at the stunted alley of the poet Nadson (46) and did not like Darnitsa for the trampled earth near the pine trees and the loose sand mixed with cigarette butts.

One spring I was sitting in Mariinsky Park and reading Stevenson’s “Treasure Island” (47). Sister Galya sat nearby and also read. Her summer hat with green ribbons lay on the bench. The wind moved the ribbons, Galya was short-sighted, very trusting, and it was almost impossible to get her out of her good-natured state.

It had rained in the morning, but now the clear spring sky shone above us. Only belated drops of rain flew from the lilacs.

And at that moment I saw a man who poisoned me for a long time with dreams of my unrealistic future.

In land Kyiv, where we hardly saw sailors, it was an alien from the distant legendary world of winged ships, the frigate "Pallada" (48), from the world of all oceans, seas, all port cities, all winds and all the charms that were associated with the picturesque labor of seafarers. An ancient broadsword with a black hilt seemed to have appeared in the Mariinsky Park from the pages of Stevenson.

The midshipman passed by, crunching on the sand. I got up and followed him. Due to myopia, Galya did not notice my disappearance.

The midshipman looked around. On the black ribbon of his cap, I read the mysterious word: “Azimuth.” Later I learned that this was the name of the training ship of the Baltic Fleet.

The midshipman looked around several times, and at the corner of Meringovskaya he stopped and called me over.