Winter oak
The path went around a hazel bush, and the forest immediately spread out to the sides. In the middle of the clearing, in white sparkling clothes, huge and majestic, stood an oak tree. The trees seemed to respectfully part to allow the older brother to unfold in full force. Its lower branches spread out like a tent over the clearing. Snow packed into the deep wrinkles of the bark, and the thick, three-girth trunk seemed stitched with silver threads. The foliage, having dried out in the autumn, almost did not fly off, and the oak tree was covered with leaves in snowy covers to the very top.
Anna Vasilyevna timidly stepped towards the oak tree, and the magnanimous, powerful guardian of the forest swung a branch towards her.
“Anna Vasilievna, look,” said Savushkin and with an effort he rolled away a block of snow with earth stuck to the bottom and the remains of rotten grass. There, in the hole, lay a ball wrapped in rotted leaves. Sharp needle tips stuck out through the leaves, and Anna Vasilyevna guessed that it was a hedgehog.
The boy continued to lead the teacher around his little world. The foot of the oak tree sheltered many more guests: beetles, lizards. boogers. Emaciated, they endured the winter in deep sleep. A strong tree overflowing with life has accumulated so much living warmth around itself that the poor animal could not have found a better apartment for itself.
Having walked far away, Anna Vasilievna looked back for the last time at the oak tree, white and pink in the sunset rays, and saw at its foot a small dark figure: Savushkin had not left, he was guarding his teacher from afar. And Anna Vasilievna suddenly realized that the most amazing thing in this forest was not the winter oak, but a little man in worn felt boots, mended clothes, the son of a soldier who died for his homeland, a wonderful citizen of the future.
(According to Yu. Nagibin) 232 words
1. - Hello, dear colleagues!
I invite you to “see the unusual in the ordinary.”
2. The path went around a hazel bush, and the forest immediately spread out to the sides. In the middle of the clearing, in white sparkling clothes, huge and majestic, like a cathedral, stood an oak tree. The trees seemed to respectfully part to allow the older brother to unfold in full force. Its lower branches spread out like a tent over the clearing. Snow packed into the deep wrinkles of the bark, and the thick, three-girth trunk seemed stitched with silver threads.
3. Film.
4. Introduction to the topic.
How difficult it is to find the truth in the most trifling matter.
Let's try to find the truth in Yuri Markovich Nagibin's story “Winter Oak” by asking ourselves the questions: about whom?, about what?, why?
5. Work in groups.
The work of analyzing excerpts from the work, which we will do in groups, will help us answer these questions.
Read the episodes from the story and express your opinion on the question posed on the card.
6. Working with the audience.
The oak was a sacred tree of many peoples, including the ancient Slavs, it was worshiped as a deity .
Today it remains a symbol of courage, perseverance,endurance, longevity, nobility, loyalty, protection.
Many writers turn to the description of oak:
Maybe someone will recognize the passages they heard and name the work and its author.
1. “The old oak tree, completely transformed, spread out like a tent of lush, dark greenery, was thrilled, slightly swaying in the rays of the evening sun. No gnarled fingers, no sores, no old grief and mistrust - nothing was visible. Juicy, young leaves broke through the hundred-year-old hard bark without knots, so it was impossible to believe that this old man had produced them. “Yes, this is the same oak tree,” thought Prince Andrei, and suddenly an unreasonable spring feeling of joy and renewal came over him” (Leo Tolstoy “War and Peace”)
2. I saw an oak tree.
He's hundreds of years old
Stretching the roots deeper and deeper,
Stayed firmly on the ground
The crown of the head props up the sky.(Ivan Kashpurov “Oak”)
3. Look at him: he is important and calm
Among its lifeless plains.
Who says that in the field he is not a warrior?
He is a warrior in the field, even alone. (Nikolai Zabolotsky “Lonely Oak”)
4. Near Lukomorye there is a green oak;
Golden chain on the oak tree:
Day and night the cat is a scientist
Everything goes around and around in a chain. (Alexander Pushkin)
What meaning do the descriptions of oak in these works carry?
7. Result of the groups’ work.
The time has come to sum up the work of the groups.
The first group presents us with a substantive analysis of the text: about whom?
Please have your say.
1) The world of childhood is presented in the story as joyful, serene, thirsty for knowledge - the colorful world of childhood.
2) Young, considered herself experienced, cheerful, self-confident. Everyone appreciates and respects her. Glory to a skillful, experienced teacher.
3) Small, in worn-out felt boots, a spontaneous village boy, living in the surrounding nature, enjoying its amazing beauty, sincere and honest.
4) One of the main characters of the story. Savushkin speaks about him as a living being, despite the shouts and laughter of his comrades: “Just oak - what! Winter oak is a noun!”
5) The father died in the war, the mother is raising four children, a hardworking, kind woman.
6) Residents of Uvarovka are kind, respectful people.
7) Winter guests.
The second group presents us with the meaning of a substantive analysis of the text, the main idea of the work, access to the moral values that make up the spirituality of the individual: what is it about?
1) Joy, admiration, a surge of feelings, delight.
2) Self-confidence, arrogance.
3) When a person is left alone with nature, he becomes himself, sincere and honest, ingenuous and simple.
4) The beauty of nature. An enchanted world of peace and soundlessness.
5) Her self-confidence disappears when a little boy teaches her in the forest. She walked the same path as her student.
6) The wealth and beauty of the hero’s inner world.In the future, it will become the same guardian of the forest as the oak tree.
Have your say.
Summary (mine)
To understand how beautiful the world is in which man and nature can be happy, because they are one;
To understand that there is another person’s world and you need to accept it as your own;
To appreciate life.
The oak is the guardian of the forest, and man is the guardian of the whole world.
Thanks for your communication!
Have you seen him? - Anna Vasilievna asked excitedly.
- Himself?.. Alive?.. - Savushkin sighed. - No, it didn’t happen. I saw his nuts.
- What?
“Spools,” Savushkin explained shyly.
Slipping under the arch of a bent willow, the path ran down to the stream again. In some places the stream was covered with a thick blanket of snow, in others it was encased in a pure ice shell, and sometimes living water could be seen through the ice and snow with a dark, unkind eye.
- Why isn’t he completely frozen? - asked Anna Vasilievna.
- There are warm springs in it. Do you see the trickle there?
Leaning over the hole, Anna Vasilyevna saw a thin thread stretching from the bottom; Before reaching the surface of the water, it burst into small bubbles. This thin stem with bubbles looked like a lily of the valley.
“There are so many of these keys here,” Savushkin said with enthusiasm. - The stream is alive even under the snow...
He swept away the snow, and tar-black and yet transparent water appeared.
Anna Vasilyevna noticed that, falling into the water, the snow did not melt; on the contrary, it immediately thickened and sagged in the water like gelatinous greenish algae. She liked it so much that she began to knock the snow into the water with the toe of her boot, rejoicing when a particularly intricate figure was sculpted from the large lump. She got the taste and did not immediately notice that Savushkin had gone ahead and was waiting for her, sitting high in the fork of a branch hanging over the stream. Anna Vasilievna caught up with Savushkin. Here the effect of the warm springs had already ended; the stream was covered with film-thin ice. Quick, light shadows darted across its marbled surface.
- Look how thin the ice is, you can even see the current!
- What are you talking about, Anna Vasilyevna! It was I who shook the bitch, and that’s where the shadow runs...
Anna Vasilievna bit her tongue. Perhaps, here in the forest, it’s better for her to keep quiet.
Savushkin again walked ahead of the teacher, bending down slightly and carefully looking around him.
And the forest kept leading them and leading them with its complex, confusing passages. It seemed that there would be no end to these trees, snowdrifts, this silence and sun-pierced darkness.
Suddenly, a smoky blue crack appeared in the distance. The redwoods replaced the thicket, it became spacious and fresh. And now, not a gap, but a wide, sunlit opening appeared ahead. There was something sparkling, sparkling, swarming with icy stars.
The path went around a hawthorn bush, and the forest immediately spread out to the sides: in the middle of the clearing, in white sparkling clothes, huge and majestic, like a cathedral, stood an oak tree. The trees seemed to respectfully part to allow the older brother to unfold in full force. Its lower branches spread out like a tent over the clearing. Snow packed into the deep wrinkles of the bark, and the thick, three-girth trunk seemed stitched with silver threads. The foliage, having dried out in the autumn, almost did not fly off; the oak tree was covered with leaves in snowy covers to the very top.
- So here it is, winter oak!
It shone all over with myriads of tiny mirrors, and for a moment it seemed to Anna Vasilievna that her thousand-fold repeated image was looking at her from every branch. And it was somehow especially easy to breathe near the oak tree, as if even in its deep winter sleep it exuded the spring aroma of blossoms.
Anna Vasilyevna timidly stepped towards the oak tree, and the mighty, generous guardian of the forest quietly swung a branch towards her. Not knowing at all what was going on in the teacher’s soul, Savushkin was fiddling around at the foot of the oak tree, casually treating his old acquaintance.
- Anna Vasilievna, look!..
With effort, he rolled away a block of snow, covered underneath with earth and the remains of rotting grass. There, in the hole, lay a ball wrapped in rotted cobweb-thin leaves. Sharp needle tips stuck out through the leaves, and Anna Vasilyevna guessed that it was a hedgehog.
- Look how wrapped up he is! - Savushkin carefully covered the hedgehog with his unpretentious blanket.
Then he dug up the snow at another root. A tiny grotto with a fringe of icicles on the roof opened up. There was a brown frog sitting in it that looked like it was made of cardboard; her skin, rigidly stretched over her bones, seemed varnished. Savushkin touched the frog, it did not move.
“Pretending,” Savushkin laughed, “as if she were dead!” Let the sun play and it will jump!
He continued to lead her around his little world. The foot of the oak tree sheltered many more guests: beetles, lizards, boogers. Some were buried under the roots, others hid in the cracks of the bark; emaciated, as if empty inside, they endured the winter in deep sleep. A strong tree, overflowing with life, has accumulated so much living warmth around itself that the poor animal could not have found a better apartment for itself. Anna Vasilievna was peering with joyful interest into this unknown, secret life of the forest when she heard Savushkin’s alarmed exclamation:
- Oh, we won’t find mom anymore!
Anna Vasilievna shuddered and hastily brought her bracelet watch to her eyes - it was a quarter past four. She felt as if she was trapped. And, mentally asking the oak tree for forgiveness for her little human cunning, she said:
- Well, Savushkin, this only means that the shortcut is not the most correct. You'll have to walk on the highway.
Savushkin didn’t answer, he just lowered his head.
"My God! - Anna Vasilievna then thought with pain. “Is it possible to admit your powerlessness more clearly?” She remembered today's lesson and all her other lessons: how poorly, dryly and coldly she spoke about the word, about language, about that without which a person is mute in front of the world, powerless in feeling, about language, which should be just as fresh, beautiful and rich, how generous and beautiful life is.
And she considered herself a skilled teacher! Perhaps she has not taken even one step on that path for which a whole human life is not enough. And where does it lie, this path? Finding it is not easy or simple, like the key to Koscheev’s casket. But in that joy she did not understand, with which the guys called out “tractor”, “well”, “birdhouse”, the first milestone was dimly visible to her.
- Well, Savushkin, thank you for the walk! Of course, you can walk this path too.
- Thank you, Anna Vasilievna!
Savushkin blushed. He really wanted to tell the teacher that he would never be late again, but he was afraid to lie. He raised the collar of his jacket and pulled his earflaps down deeper:
- I will accompany you...
- No need, Savushkin, I’ll get there alone.
He looked at the teacher doubtfully, then picked up a stick from the ground and, breaking off its crooked end, handed it to Anna Vasilyevna:
- If the elk jumps on you, hit him on the back, and he will fight. Better yet, just swing - he's had enough! Otherwise he will get offended and leave the forest altogether.
- Okay, Savushkin, I won’t beat him.
Having walked away not far, Anna Vasilyevna looked back at the oak tree for the last time, white and pink in the sunset rays, and saw at its foot a small dark figure: Savushkin had not left, he was guarding his teacher from afar. And with all the warmth of her heart, Anna Vasilievna suddenly realized that the most amazing thing in this forest was not the winter oak, but a little man in worn felt boots, mended, poor clothes, the son of a soldier who died for the Motherland and a “shower nanny,” a wonderful and mysterious citizen of the future.
She waved to him and quietly moved along the winding path.
Old turtle
Vasya inhaled the air, rounding his nostrils, and was penetrated to the very depths by the strong, stuffy smell of the beast. He looked up. A small sign hung above the door; on it, in colors faded by the southern sun, was written: “Pet Store.” Behind the dusty glass of the display case, the boy could hardly see the dusty stuffed animal of a long-legged beaked bird.
How little we know the streets we walk on day after day! How many times did Vasya go to the beach along this very street, he knew every house there, a lamppost, a chestnut tree, a shop window, every chip in the sidewalk and pothole in the pavement, and suddenly it turned out that he had not noticed the most important thing on this street.
But you shouldn’t think about it, rather go there, into this wonderful, mysterious twilight...
The mother followed her son with her usual humility. The cramped, dark store was uninhabited, but, like an abandoned den, it retained the living, warm spirit of its recent residents. There was a pile of dry fish food on the counter, empty bird cages hanging from the ceiling, and in the middle of the room there was an aquarium covered with shells, illuminated by a dim electric light bulb; long, twisting algae, trembling slightly, entwined the slimy stone grotto. This entire underwater kingdom was given over to the undivided possession of a pitiful blood vessel-like bloodworm, which quietly wriggled, glued to the ribbed surface of the shell.
Vasya stood at the aquarium for a long time, as if hoping that the dead splendor of the watery kingdom would suddenly come to life, then dejectedly headed into the dark depths of the store. And then his jubilant cry was heard:
- Mom, look!
The mother immediately understood everything: the same selfless cry preceded the appearance in the house of an aquarium with fancy fish, cages with songbirds, a collection of butterflies, a two-wheeled bicycle, a box with carpentry tools...
She approached her son. In the corner of the store, at the bottom of a straw-lined box, two tiny turtles were moving. They were no larger than Vasya’s fist, surprisingly new and clean. The turtles fearlessly climbed the walls of the box, slipped, fell to the bottom and again, nimbly moving their light paws with hard claws, climbed to the top.
- Mother! - Vasya said soulfully, he didn’t even add the rude word “buy”.
“We’ve had enough of fussing with Masha,” the mother responded tiredly.
- Mom, look at their faces!
Vasya never knew anything was denied; everything was given to him at the behest of a pike. This is good in a fairy tale, but for Vasya the fairy tale went on too long. He will go to school in the fall. What will it be like for him when he discovers that the spell has lost all power and life must be taken with difficulty and patience? The mother shook her head negatively:
- No, three turtles in the house is too much!
“Okay,” Vasya said with defiant humility. - If so, let's give Masha back, she's still very old.
- You know, this is empty talk.
The boy turned away from his mother offended and said quietly:
- You just feel sorry for money...
“Of course, he is small and is not guilty of either bad or good,” thought the mother, “you just need to explain to him that he is wrong.” But instead of calm, wise words of teaching, she said sharply:
- Enough! Let's get out of here now!
It was a strange morning for Vasya. On the beach, every stone seemed to him like a small golden turtle. The sea jellyfish and algae that touched his feet when he swam near the shore were also turtles that fawned over him, Vasya, and seemed to be asking for friendship. In his absent-mindedness, the boy did not even feel the usual joy of swimming, indifferently came out of the water at the first call of his mother and slowly walked after her. On the way, his mother bought his favorite pink grapes and handed him a heavy bunch, but Vasya tore off only one berry and forgot to eat it. He had no desires or thoughts, except for one, persistent, like an obsession, and when they arrived home, Vasya knew exactly what to do.
During the day, the old turtle was always buried in secluded places: under the wardrobe, under the sofa, and crawled into a dark, cluttered closet. But now Vasya was lucky: he immediately found Masha under his bed.
- Masha! Masha! - he called her, standing on all fours, but the dark round cobblestone did not show any signs of life for a long time.
Finally, something moved in the gap between the shields, then a bird’s beak stuck out, followed by the entire bare, flattened head with the eyes of a dead bird covered with a horny film. Stubby paws have grown along the sides of the cobblestones. And then one front paw slowly, as if thinking, rose, turned slightly and sank to the floor with a faint thud. After her, the second one started working just as slowly, thoughtfully and clumsily, and about three minutes later Masha crawled out from under the bed.
Vasya put a piece of apricot on the floor. Masha stretched her wrinkled, sinewy neck far forward, exposing the thin, also wrinkled membranes with which she was attached to her shell, pecked a piece of apricot like a bird and swallowed at once. From the second slice offered by Vasya, Masha turned away and crawled away. In rare moments, when Masha felt the urge to move, her bulging eyes did not notice any obstacles; with a sleepy and stubborn step, waddling regularly, she walked forward and forward, striving for some distance known to her alone.
There was no more unnecessary creature in the world than Masha, but she was good for something: you could sit on her and even stand on her. Vasya reached out to Masha and pressed her with his hand; under his palm she continued to scrape the floor with her outstretched paws. Its shell, consisting of uneven squares and rhombuses, seemed to have become all embroidered with age, deep grooves lay where the seams were, and for some reason Vasya decided not to sit on it. He picked Masha up from the floor and looked out the window. The mother lay in a hammock, her light head did not even press down the pillows, the book she was reading fell out of her downward hand. Mother was sleeping. Vasya hid Masha under his shirt and quickly went outside.
Above the thinned-out bazaar, half-asleep from the heat, a child’s voice sounded high and sad:
It seemed to Vasya that he had been standing there for many, many hours; the direct, cruel rays of the sun baked his poor uncovered head, sweat flowed from his forehead and blurred his vision, the stone-heavy Masha painfully pulled back her hands. He felt a languid, aching weakness throughout his whole body, and he was drawn to sit down on the dusty ground.
- Turtle! Turtle for sale!
Vasya pronounced these words more and more muffled, as if he was afraid and wanted to be heard. But people, busy with their work, passed by him indifferently; they did not see anything unusual in what for Vasya was perhaps the most difficult test in his entire little life. If only he could find himself again in his native, abandoned world, where he lived so well under his mother’s faithful protection!
But as soon as Vasya allowed himself to this thought, his home immediately lost all its charm for him, became unlovable and boring, because then he would have to forever abandon the cheerful golden turtles.
- Wow, turtle! This is exactly what I need!
Vasya got so deep into himself that he shuddered in surprise and almost dropped Masha from his hands. In front of him stood a tall, broad-shouldered man, apparently a longshoreman, looking at the old turtle with a kind of childish admiration.
-Are you selling, boy?
- Yes...
- How much are you asking?
“Nine...” Vasya said embarrassedly, remembering the price they asked for two turtles in the pet store.
- Nine? Won't you take less?
“I can’t…” Vasya whispered. He was very ashamed.
- Well, if you can’t, I’m crying! You see, my little son is going home tomorrow, to the Tambov region, so I want to give him something like that...
The loader rummaged in his pockets and pulled out two green and one yellow pieces of paper.
“I don’t have nine with me, you know,” he said worriedly, “exactly seven.”
Vasya was in despair; he did not know how to help this big and, apparently, kind man. “I will never, ever trade again.”
“Wait a minute, kid,” the loader suddenly appeared, “I live close here, come to my place, I’ll bring you the money!”
And so they walked out of the market together. Vasya was very happy, everything turned out so well, he was proud of his first achievement in life, and besides, he liked to walk now next to this strong and courageous man, as an equal with an equal. To the right, in the clear view of the street, the midday sea opened up, and against its sparkling background, Vasya saw the iron hands of cranes working on a small boat standing at the pier. Huge soft bales, one after another, descended from the sky onto the deck, and it seemed strange to the boy that the ship did not sink under all this load. He wanted to ask his companion where the ship was sailing, but did not have time.
- Here they come, boy. Wait here, I'll be right there!
Vasya stood in front of a white one-story house, surrounded by densely overgrown acacia bushes. It seemed strange to him that such a big man lived in such a small house, but he immediately forgot about it and began to carefully peer into the windows located along the facade. He really wanted to see the boy who would get Mashka.
“Oh, it’s a pity, my little son is not at home,” the loader said when he appeared, “otherwise we would have met.” He is independent, just like you, little guy. Here, take the coin! Just do the math: money loves counting!
“No, why…” Vasya muttered and handed Mashka to the buyer.
He took it in his large palms and put it to his ear, like a watch.
- Isn’t it empty inside?
Masha, as luck would have it, did not show up from her stone dwelling, and Vasya even felt offended that she was parting with him so indifferently. And the loader, placing the turtle in front of his eyes, looked into the gap between the shields.
- No, it looks like something is working there! Well, be healthy, little guy, thank you.
“Tell you what, her name is Masha...” Vasya suddenly spoke quickly and excitedly. - She loves fruit very much and drinks milk too; it’s only believed that turtles don’t drink milk, but she drinks, really, she drinks...
“Look,” the loader grinned, “you’re a simple creature, but there you go!”
He put Masha in the wide pocket of his jacket and walked towards the house. And Vasya looked after him in confusion. He wanted to tell a lot more about Masha, about her habits, whims and weaknesses, that she was a good and kind turtle and that he, Vasya, had never known anything bad about her. There was a strange tingling in his nose, but he frowned, held his breath for a moment, and the tingling stopped. Then he clutched the money tightly in his fist and rushed as fast as he could to the pet store.
When Vasya brought home two little turtles and, in joyful excitement, told his mother about all his adventures, for some reason she was upset, but did not know what to say or how to act in this case. And if so, it’s better to wait and think, because children are such complex and difficult people...
“Yes, yes,” she said thoughtfully and sadly, “cute little animals.”
Vasya did not notice how the second half of the day passed. The kids were extremely funny, brave and inquisitive. They crawled all over the room, moving in circles towards each other, and when they collided, they did not turn to the side, but climbed on top of each other, knocking shell against shell. Unlike the old, gloomy Masha, they did not try to hide in some secret corner, and if they were buried at times, it looked like a game of hide and seek. And they weren’t picky either: no matter what Vasya treated them to - apples, potatoes, grapes, milk, cutlet, cucumber - they devoured everything with eagerness and, with their beady eyes widening, seemed to ask for more and more.
At night, Vasya put them in a box with sand and placed them in plain sight, against the head of his bed. Going to bed, he said to his mother in a happy, tired, half-asleep voice:
- You know, mom, I love these turtles so much!
“It turns out that the old friend is no better than the new two,” the mother remarked, covering her son with a blanket.
There are words that seem simple and harmless, which, when said at the right time, appear again and again in your memory and do not allow you to live. In the end, Mashka is not even his friend, Vasya, but just an old, decrepit turtle, and he doesn’t want to think about her at all. And yet he thinks not about what a great fellow he is that he managed to get these two cheerful kids with whom it will be so interesting to play tomorrow, but about the same useless Masha. It seems alarming, not good...
Why didn’t he tell that man that Masha should be hidden in the dark at night? And now, probably, the green light of the month is shining into her old eyes. And he has not yet said that for winter she needs to make a cave out of a cotton blanket, otherwise she will wake up from her hibernation, as happened in the first year of her life with them, and then she may die, because during hibernation turtles do not accept food. He didn’t even really explain what to feed Masha, because she’s so picky...
Of course, he can go tomorrow and say everything, but will the new owners want to bother so much with old Masha? True, that man seems to be very kind, Vasya consoled himself, probably his son is just as kind. But peace did not come. Then he pulled the blanket over his head to quickly fall asleep, but Masha’s naked, unblinking bird eyes again appeared in front of him, reflecting the merciless green light of the month.
Vasya threw off the blanket and sat down on the bed. He no longer felt either pity for Masha or irritation against his mother, who refused to keep three turtles in the house. All this was replaced in him by some incomprehensible, painful feeling of dissatisfaction with himself, self-resentment. This feeling was so big and unfamiliar that it did not fit in Vasya, he needed to be given an outlet, and Vasya tried to cry. But nothing worked out. This bitter, caustic feeling dried up all his tears.
For the first time, Vasya no longer thought that he was the best boy in the world, worthy of having the best mother, the best toys, the best pleasures. “But what did I do? - he asked himself with longing. “I sold an old turtle that was completely unnecessary to me.” “Yes, you don’t need her,” was the answer, “but she needs you.” Everything good in the world was for you, but who were you for?” - “I feed the birds and fish, I change their water.” - “Yes, as long as you have fun with them, and if you don’t have fun, you will do the same to them as you did to Masha.” - “Why can’t you do that?”
Vasya could not find the answer, but the answer was in his troubled heart, which for the first time learned a simple but previously unknown truth: not only the world exists for you, but you also exist for the world. And with this new feeling, that new inevitable command arose in him, the name of which - duty - Vasya learns much later. And this command made Vasya jump out of bed and quickly put on his clothes.
The light of the month lay on the floor in two squares, each crossed out with a black cross. In the silence, my mother’s tiny wrist watch clearly ticked. Wake up mom? No, his new, soft, warm heart told Vasya, mom is tired, and it’s so difficult for her to sleep. You have to do everything yourself...
Vasya groped for the box and took out the turtles, two smooth, heavy round pieces, as if filled with mercury. But this may not be enough, and he must act for sure. Putting the turtles under his shirt, Vasya sent the box with new tin soldiers there, then thought, took the gun off the nail and hung it over his shoulder.
Leaving the room, the boy quietly closed the door behind him. He had suspected before that strange things were happening in the world at night, and now with some kind of fading triumph he said to himself: “I knew it,” seeing that the apple orchard had crept up almost to the very porch, and the outbuilding in which the owners lived fell into the black, shadowed depths of the yard.
Old Naida's puppies were running around the yard, and each puppy was rolling a black ball of its shadow in front of it. Affectionate and friendly during the day, they did not pay the slightest attention to Vasya, busy with their nightly business. Only Naida herself, sniffing Vasya’s scent through her nostrils, muttered muffledly and clinked her chain. The feeling of the unfamiliar hostility of the world sadly pinched the boy’s heart.
With difficult steps, Vasya approached the trees whitened by the moon. There was not the slightest breeze, but all the leaves on the trees were moving, rustling and faint creaking stood over the garden, as if the trees were talking about something of their own, nocturnal. And Vasya remembered his idea that trees go swimming in the sea at night. He came up with this half-seriously, surprised that during their entire stay in this region it had never rained, but trees cannot live without moisture. But now this notion gave him an unpleasant chill.
Something flew past his face, touching his cheek with a slight flutter of wings. Bat? No, the bat rips through the darkness with such speed that you can guess it rather than see it. And now he managed to notice behind the frequent beating of the wings a plump, spindle-shaped body.
"Death's head!" - Vasya guessed and immediately saw her: a large butterfly, folding its wings into a triangle, sat on the trunk of an apple tree, lit as if by day. A skull with black spots of eye sockets and a slit mouth was clearly visible on its wide back. The tireless night flyer was in his hands, from now on his collection will be replenished with a new, large specimen. Vasya already felt how the giant butterfly covered with his hand began to beat, tickling his palm. But full of some new, caring attitude towards all living things, Vasya suppressed the feeling of a hunter in himself and only stroked the waxed back of the hawk moth with his little finger. As if trusting him, the hawk moth did not take flight, but sleepily moved its antennae and crawled a little higher. On his short path, he touched a beetle sleeping on the same trunk. The beetle raised its dorsal corneas, scratched its hind legs one against the other and, without entering into an argument - there was enough room for everyone - it moved a little, but only ineptly: it crushed the leg of its neighbor, some long dry booger. And so dozens of small creatures began to stir on the trunk of the apple tree and went back to sleep.
Vasya watched their sleepy confusion with a smile; he did not even suspect that there were so many of them here, on this thin stem. They bury themselves, hide during the day, how much effort they spend to protect themselves from him, Vasya, but now - here you go! - lay down in all their defenselessness. And he mentally wished them good night, like an older brother in life.
Vasya went out into the street with the calm and confident step of a strong and kind man, but he was still far from becoming the master of the night. The moon stood high in the sky. Flooded with its light, the pale expanse of the street glowed coldly and strangely. And at its far end rose a blank black wall, cut by a silver slit. "Sea!" - a guess flashed. During the day, the sea, flat as water in a saucer, now reared up and hung menacingly over the city. Vasya looked back at the gate.
The snow that had fallen overnight covered the narrow path leading from Uvarovka to the school, and only by the faint intermittent shadow on the dazzling snow cover could its direction be guessed. The teacher carefully placed her foot in a small, fur-trimmed boot, ready to pull it back if the snow deceived her.
It was only half a kilometer to school, and the teacher just threw a short fur coat over her shoulders and tied a light woolen scarf around her head. The frost was strong, and besides, the wind blew in and, tearing off a young snowball from the crust, showered her from head to toe. But the twenty-four-year-old teacher liked it all. I liked that the frost bit my nose and cheeks, that the wind, blowing under my fur coat, chilled my body. Turning away from the wind, she saw behind her the frequent trail of her pointed boots, similar to the trail of some animal, and she liked that too.
A fresh, light-filled January day awakened joyful thoughts about life and about myself. It’s only been two years since she came here from her student days, and she has already gained fame as a skillful, experienced teacher of the Russian language. And in Uvarovka, and in Kuzminki, and in Cherny Yar, and in the peat town, and at the stud farm - everywhere they know her, appreciate her and call her respectfully - Anna Vasilievna.
A man was walking towards me across the field. “What if he doesn’t want to give way?” Anna Vasilyevna thought with cheerful fear. “You won’t warm up on the path, but if you take a step to the side, you’ll instantly drown in the snow.” But she knew to herself that there was no person in the area who would not give way to the Uvarov teacher.
They drew level. It was Frolov, a trainer from a stud farm.
Good morning, Anna Vasilievna! - Frolov raised his kubanka over his strong, well-cropped head.
May it be for you! Put it on now, it’s so cold!
Frolov himself probably wanted to grab the kubanka as quickly as possible, but now he deliberately hesitated, wanting to show that he didn’t care about the cold.
How is Lesha my, isn’t he spoiling me? - Frolov asked respectfully.
Of course he's playing around. All normal children play around. As long as it doesn’t cross boundaries,” Anna Vasilievna answered with the consciousness of her pedagogical experience.
Frolov grinned:
My Leshka is quiet, just like his father!
He stepped aside and, falling knee-deep into the snow, became the height of a fifth-grader. Anna Vasilyevna nodded condescendingly and went on her way...
A two-story school building with wide windows painted with frost stood near the highway behind a low fence; the snow right up to the highway was reddened by the reflection of its red walls. The school was set up on the road away from Uvarovka, because children from all over the area studied there... And now, along the highway on both sides, bonnets and scarves, jackets and caps, earflaps and caps flowed in streams to the school buildings.
Hello, Anna Vasilievna! - it sounded every second, either loudly and clearly, or dullly and barely audible from under the scarves and handkerchiefs wound up to the very eyes.
Anna Vasilyevna's first lesson was in the fifth "A". Before the shrill bell, signaling the start of classes, had died, Anna Vasilievna entered the classroom. The guys stood up together, said hello and sat down in their places. Silence did not come immediately. Desk lids slammed, benches creaked, someone sighed noisily, apparently saying goodbye to the serene mood of the morning.
Today we will continue our analysis of parts of speech...
Anna Vasilievna remembered how worried she was
before class last year and, like a schoolgirl on an exam, kept repeating to herself: “A noun is a part of speech... a noun is a part of speech...” And she also remembered how she was tormented by a funny fear: what if they still don’t understand ?..
Anna Vasilyevna smiled at the memory, straightened the hairpin in her heavy bun of hair and in an even, calm voice, feeling her calmness like warmth throughout her whole body, began:
A noun is a part of speech that denotes an object. A subject in grammar is anything that can be asked about, who it is or what it is...
In the half-open door stood a small figure in worn-out felt boots, on which frosty sparks were fading as they melted. The round face, inflamed by the frost, burned as if it had been rubbed with beets, and the eyebrows were gray with frost.
Are you late again, Savushkin? - Like most young teachers, Anna Vasilievna loved to be strict, but now her question sounded almost plaintive.
Taking the teacher’s words as permission to enter the classroom, Savushkin quickly slipped into his seat. Anna Vasilievna saw how the boy put an oilcloth bag into his desk and asked his neighbor something without turning his head - probably: what is she explaining?
Anna Vasilyevna was upset by Savushkin’s lateness, like an annoying incompetence that ruined a well-started day. The geography teacher, a small, dry old woman who looked like a moth, also complained to her that Savushkin was late. In general, she often complained - either about the noise in the class or about the absent-mindedness of the students. "The first lessons are so difficult!" - the old woman sighed. “Yes, for those who don’t know how to hold students, who don’t know how to make their lesson interesting,” Anna Vasilievna thought self-confidently then and suggested that she change hours. Now she felt guilty before the old woman, who was insightful enough to see a challenge and reproach in Anna Vasilievna’s kind offer.
Is everything clear? - Anna Vasilievna addressed the class.
It's clear! I see!.. - the children answered in unison.
Fine. Then give examples.
It became very quiet for a few seconds, then someone said hesitantly:
That’s right,” said Anna Vasilievna, immediately remembering that last year the “cat” was also the first. And then it burst:
Window! - Table! - House! - Road!
That's right, Anna Vasilievna said.
The class erupted with joy. Anna Vasilievna was surprised
the joy with which the children named objects familiar to them, as if recognizing them in a new, somehow unusual significance. The range of examples kept expanding; for the first minutes the guys stuck to the closest, tangible objects: a wheel... a tractor... a well... a birdhouse...
And from the back desk, where fat Vasyatka was sitting, a thin and insistent voice rang out:
Carnation... carnation... carnation...
But then someone timidly said:
Street... Metro... Tram... Film...
That’s enough,” said Anna Vasilievna. - I lower, you understand.
Winter oak!
The guys laughed.
Quiet! - Anna Vasilievna slammed her palm on the table.
Winter oak! - Savushkin repeated, not noticing either the laughter of his comrades or the shout of the teacher. He said it differently from the other students. The words burst out of his soul like a confession, like a happy secret that an overflowing heart could not contain.
Not understanding his strange agitation, Anna Vasilievna said, barely containing her irritation:
Why winter? Just oak.
Just oak - what! Winter oak - that's a noun!
Sit down, Savushkin, that’s what it means to be late. “Oak” is a noun, but we haven’t covered what “winter” is yet. During the big break, be kind enough to come into the teachers' room.
Here's a winter oak for you! - someone in the back desk chuckled.
Savushkin sat down, smiling at some of his thoughts, not at all touched by the teacher’s menacing words. “Difficult boy,” thought Anna Vasilievna.
The lesson continued.
“Sit down,” Anna Vasilievna said when Savushkin entered the teacher’s room.
The boy sat down with pleasure in a soft chair and swung several times on the springs.
Please, explain: why are you systematically late?
I just don’t know, Anna Vasilievna. - He spread his hands like an adult. - I leave an hour before.
How difficult it is to find the truth in the most trifling matter! Many of the guys lived much further than Savushkin, and yet none of them spent more than an hour on the road.
Do you live in Kuzminki?
No, at the sanatorium.
And aren't you ashamed to say that you leave in an hour? From the sanatorium to the highway it takes about fifteen minutes and along the highway no more than half an hour.
But I don't walk on the highway. “I’m taking a shortcut, straight through the forest,” said Savushkin, as if he himself was not a little surprised by this circumstance.
“Directly,” not “directly,” Anna Vasilievna habitually corrected.
She felt vague and sad, as always when she encountered children's lies. She was silent, hoping that Savushkin would say: “Excuse me, Anna Vasilyevna, I was playing with the guys in the snow,” or something equally simple and ingenuous, but he just looked at her with big gray eyes, and his gaze seemed to say: “Now we’ve found out everything. What else do you want from me?”
It’s sad, Savushkin, very sad! I'll have to talk to your parents.
And I, Anna Vasilievna, only have a mother,” Savushkin smiled.
Anna Vasilyevna blushed a little. She remembered Savushkin’s mother - “the shower nanny,” as her son called her. She worked at a sanatorium hydropathic clinic, a thin, tired woman with hands that were white and soft from the hot water, as if they were made of fabric. Alone, without her husband, who died in World War II, she fed and raised, in addition to Kolya, three more children.
It’s true that Savushkina already has enough troubles.
I'll have to go see your mother.
Come, Anna Vasilievna, mom will be happy!
Unfortunately, I have nothing to please her with. Does mom work in the morning?
No, she's on the second shift, starting at three.
Well, great. I cum at two. After class you will accompany me...
The path along which Savushkin led Anna Vasilievna began immediately at the back of the school estate. As soon as they stepped into the forest and the spruce paws, heavily loaded with snow, closed behind them, they were immediately transported to another, enchanted world of peace and soundlessness. Magpies and crows, flying from tree to tree, swayed branches, knocked down pine cones, and sometimes, touching with their wings, broke off fragile, dry twigs. But nothing gave birth to sound here.
All around is white and white. Only in the heights do the wind-blown tops of tall weeping birches turn black, and the thin branches seem to be drawn in ink on the blue surface of the sky.
The path ran along the stream - sometimes level with it, obediently following all the twists of the riverbed, sometimes, rising high, winding along a steep slope.
Sometimes the trees parted, revealing sunny, cheerful clearings, crossed by a hare's footprint, similar to a watch chain. There were also large trefoil-shaped tracks that belonged to some large animal. The tracks went into the very thicket, into the brown forest.
Sokhaty has passed! - Savushkin said as if about a good friend, seeing that Anna Vasilievna was interested in the tracks. “Just don’t be afraid,” he added in response to the glance cast by the teacher deep into the forest. - Elk, he is quiet.
Have you seen him? - Anna Vasilievna asked excitedly.
Himself? Alive? - Savushkin sighed. - No, it didn’t happen. I saw his nuts.
“Spools,” Savushkin explained shyly.
Slipping under the arch of a bent willow, the path ran down to the stream again. In some places the stream was covered with a thick blanket of snow, in others it was encased in a pure ice shell, and sometimes among the ice and snow living water could be seen with a dark, unkind eye.
Why isn't he completely frozen? - asked Anna Vasilievna.
Warm springs flow through it. Do you see the trickle there?
Leaning over the wormwood, Anna Vasilievna
I saw a thin thread stretching from the bottom; Before reaching the surface of the water, it burst into small bubbles. This thin stem with bubbles looked like a lily of the valley.
There are so many of these keys here! - Savushkin spoke with enthusiasm. - The stream is alive even under the snow.
He swept away the snow, and tar-black and yet transparent water appeared.
Anna Vasilievna noticed that, falling into the water, the snow did not melt, but immediately thickened and sagged in the water like gelatinous greenish algae. She liked it so much that she began to knock the snow into the water with the toe of her boot, rejoicing when a particularly intricate figure was sculpted from the large lump. She got the hang of it and immediately noticed that Savushkin had gone ahead and was waiting for her, sitting high in the fork of a branch hanging over the stream. Anna Vasilievna caught up with Savushkin. Here the effect of the warm springs had already ended; the stream was covered with film-thin ice.
Quick, light shadows darted across its marble surface.
Look how thin the ice is, you can even see the current!
What are you talking about, Anna Vasilyevna! It was I who shook the branch, and that’s where the shadow runs.
Anna Vasilievna bit her tongue. Perhaps, here in the forest, it’s better for her to keep quiet.
Savushkin again walked ahead of the teacher, bending down slightly and carefully looking around him.
And the forest kept leading them and leading them with its complex, confusing codes. It seemed that there would be no end to these trees, snowdrifts, this silence and sun-pierced darkness.
Suddenly, a smoky blue crack appeared in the distance. The redwoods replaced the thicket, it became spacious and fresh. And now, not a gap, but a wide, sunlit opening appeared in front, there was something sparkling, sparkling, swarming with icy stars.
The path went around a hazel bush, and the forest immediately spread out to the sides. In the middle of the clearing, in white sparkling clothes, huge and majestic, like a cathedral, stood an oak tree. The trees seemed to respectfully part to allow the older brother to unfold in full force. Its lower branches spread out like a tent over the clearing. Snow packed into the deep wrinkles of the bark, and the thick, three-girth trunk seemed stitched with silver threads. The foliage, having dried out in the autumn, almost did not fly off; the oak tree was covered with leaves in snowy covers to the very top.
So here it is, winter oak!
Anna Vasilyevna timidly stepped towards the oak tree, and the mighty, generous guardian of the forest quietly swung a branch towards her.
Not knowing at all what was going on in the teacher’s soul: Savushkin was fiddling around at the foot of the oak tree, casually treating his old acquaintance.
Anna Vasilievna, look!
With effort, he rolled away a block of snow, which was stuck to the bottom with the remains of rotting grass. There, in the hole, lay a ball wrapped in rotted cobweb-thin leaves. Thick needle tips stuck out through the leaves, and Anna Vasilievna guessed that it was a hedgehog.
That's how I wrapped myself up!
Savushkin carefully covered the hedgehog with his unpretentious blanket. Then he dug up the snow at another root. A tiny grotto with a fringe of icicles on the roof opened up. In it sat a brown frog, as if made of cardboard, its skin stretched rigidly over its bones, it seemed varnished. Savushkin touched the frog, it did not move.
Pretends,” Savushkin laughed, “as if she were dead.” And let the sun warm it up - it will jump oh-oh!
He continued to lead Anna Vasilyevna around his little world. The foot of the oak tree sheltered many more guests: beetles, lizards, boogers. Some were buried under the roots, others hid in the cracks of the bark; emaciated, as if empty inside, they endured the winter in deep sleep. A strong tree, overflowing with life, has accumulated so much living warmth around itself that the poor animal could not have found a better apartment for itself. Anna Vasilievna was peering with joyful interest into this unknown secret life of the forest when she heard Savushkin’s alarmed exclamation:
Oh, we won’t find mom!
Anna Vasilyevna hurriedly brought her watch to her eyes - it was a quarter past three. She felt as if she was trapped. And, mentally asking the oak tree for forgiveness for her little human cunning, she said:
Well, Savushkin, this only means that the shortcut is not the most correct. You'll have to walk on the highway.
Savushkin didn’t answer, he just lowered his head.
My God! - Anna Vasilievna then thought with pain, “Is it possible to admit your powerlessness more clearly?” She remembered today’s lesson and all her other lessons: how poorly, dryly and coldly she spoke about the word, about language, about that without which a person is dumb before the world, powerless in feeling, - about her native language, which is as fresh, beautiful and rich as life is generous and rich. And she considered herself a skillful teacher. which a whole human life is not enough for. And where does it lie, this path? Finding it is not easy and simple, like the key to Koscheev’s casket. But in the joy with which she did not understand, the guys called out “tractor”, “well”, “. birdhouse,” the first pole dimly appeared to her.
Well, Savushkin, thank you for the walk. Of course, you can walk this path too.
Thank you, Anna Vasilievna!
Savushkin blushed: he really wanted to tell the teacher that he would never be late again, but he was afraid to lie. He raised the collar of his jacket and pulled his earflaps down deeper.
I'll take you...
No need, Savushkin, I’ll get there alone.
He looked at the teacher doubtfully, then picked up a stick from the ground and, breaking off its crooked end, handed it to Anna Vasilyevna.
If the elk jumps on you, hit him on the back and he will bolt. Better yet, just swing, he’s had enough! Otherwise he will get offended and leave the forest altogether.
Okay, Savushkin, I won’t beat him.
Having gone far away, Anna Vasilievna for the last time
I looked back at the oak tree, white and pink in the sunset rays, and saw a small figure at its foot: Savushkin had not left, he was guarding his teacher from afar. And Anna Vasilyevna suddenly realized that the most amazing thing in this forest was not the winter oak, but a little man in worn felt boots, mended, poor clothes, the son of a soldier who died for his homeland and a “shower nanny”, a wonderful and mysterious citizen of the future.
The path went around a hazel bush, and the forest immediately (parted, parted, parted) to the sides: in the middle of a clearing, in white ( shiny, sparkling, shining) clothes, huge and ( majestic, majestic, regal), the oak tree stood like a cathedral. The trees seemed to respectfully ( parted, parted, moved apart), to let the older brother unfold with all his might. Its lower branches are like a tent ( spread out, spread out, spread out) over the clearing. Snow packed into the deep wrinkles of the bark, and the thick, three-girth trunk seemed stitched with silver threads. The foliage, having dried out in the fall, is almost not ( fell, flew around, crumbled), the oak tree was covered with leaves up to the very top ( white, snowy, snow-white, gray) needles So here it is, winter oak. Anna Vasilievna ( fearfully, timidly, timidly) stepped towards the oak tree, and the mighty ( wonderful, magnificent, beautiful) the guardian of the forest quietly swung a branch towards her
(Yu. Nagibin)
Exercise 3. Select synonyms for each of the paronyms, using the reference material.
Addressee, addressee;
Warlike, militant;
Despotic, despotic;
Ignorant, ignorant;
5. Friendly; friendly;
6. Unresponsive, irresponsible.
For information: 1) sender; recipient; 2) aggressive; struggling, fighting with someone or something; 3)tyrannical; petty tyrant; 4) rude; ignoramus; 5) friendly; friendly; 6) downtrodden, depressed, speechless; carefree, carefree.
Task 4. Specify artistic and visual means.
1) ... the stone trees stood silent and motionless during the day and moved even more densely around people in the evenings, when cold fires lit up. And it was even more terrible when the angry wind beat on the tops of the trees and the whole forest hummed dully, as if threatening and singing a funeral song...
2) Danko’s heart burned as brightly as the sun, and brighter than the sun, and the whole forest fell silent, illuminated by this torch of great love for people...
(M. Gorky, “Old Woman Izergil”).
Assignment for SRSP: 1) Read and write down the means of artistic expression.
Assignment for SRS: Task 2, 3, 4, 5.
Literature
1 Akhmedyarov K.K. Russian language: Textbook for students of Kazakh departments of the university (undergraduate). – Almaty: KazNU named after. al-Farabi, 2008. – 226 p.
2 Zhanalina L.K., Musataeva M.Sh. Practical course of the Russian language: Textbook. – Almaty: Print-S, 2005. – 529 p.
1.3 (3) Plan-Russian language lesson notes on the topic:Features of literary text. Workshop on creating texts in an artistic style.
Goals:
1. Deepen the concept of artistic style of speech.
2. To make students aware of the close relationship between language and society, the main functions of language in society, which will contribute to the correct stylistic use of the studied constructions in speech.
Listening
Task 1. Read the sayings of the classics. Retell them.
1) The task of literature is to capture in colors, in words, in sounds, in forms what is best, beautiful, honest, noble in a person. In particular, my task is to awaken a person’s pride in himself, to tell him that he is the best, the most sacred in life... (M. Gorky)
2) Love the book - the source of knowledge, only knowledge is saving, only it can make you spiritually strong, honest, reasonable people who are able to sincerely love a person, respect his work and heartily admire the beautiful fruits of his continuous great work. (M. Gorky)
3) Man is a mystery. It needs to be solved. And if you spend your whole life solving it, don’t say you wasted your time. I'm doing this mystery because I want to be a Human! (F.M. Dostoevsky)
4) It’s funny for me to remember how I thought and how you seem to think that you can create a happy and honest little world for yourself, in which you can live quietly, without mistakes, without repentance, without confusion, and do only good things slowly and carefully .
Funny! To live honestly, you have to struggle, get confused, fight, start and quit, and start again, and quit again, and fight forever. And calmness is spiritual meanness! (L.N. Tolstoy)
5) Everything in a person should be beautiful: face, clothes, soul, and thoughts! (A.P. Chekhov)
Task 2. Write the text using, if possible, all means of artistic expression.
Letter
Task 3. Rewrite by inserting the missing letters. Explain the spelling of vowels after C.
Three girls... were spinning under the window late in the evening.
The Ts...gans roam around Bessarabia in a noisy crowd.
I put down my t...new, wrapped myself in a fur coat and dozed off.
4. And in response to the foxes’ friendly words, the crow croaked at the top of her crow’s throat.
5. A girl wearing a white down scarf and a ts...geik jacket entered the carriage.
Task 4. Copy the words by inserting the missing letters. Explain the spelling of these words. Make 4-5 sentences with them.
1) Ts..fra, ts...rkul, ts...film, akats...ya, plantation...ya, cucumber..., well done..., ts...rk, ts.. .tata, ts...nk, ts...novka, sisters...n, foxes. ..n, stairs..., nat...ya, ts...geika, ts...rkulyats...ya, ts...nga, ts...bulya (bow), on ts.. .kidneys, t...kick, abstract...i, tradition...i.
2) C...cynic potassium, c...crylic rhythm, c..., lindrical figure, c...nic phrase, c...r...circular program, c...circular saw, powerful c...tadel, ts...coward cultures, ts.,.beach fluff, ts...fashion set, participants...conference..., civilized world, volleyball section...i, strong cyclone.
Task 5. Write down the phrases, explaining the spelling of all words.
Loving dance... ts...ganka; behave in a civilized manner; approaching c...clone; carrying out privatization; economic stabilization; new buttons...; old intelligentsia; performance by a performer; experienced swimmers...; vaccine for vaccinations; chubby young man; coordination of movements; can't be heard from the streets...; c...face of the clock.
Task 6. Write an essay using one of the statements below as an epigraph.