How many chapters in the work of French lessons. History of creating a work

Anastasia Prokopyevna Kopylova

Strange: Why are we, as well as before parents, whether we feel your guilt in front of the teachers? And not for that at all, what was at school, no, but for what happened to us after. I went to the fifth grade in the forty-eighth year. It is correct to say, I went: we had only an elementary school in the village, so to learn further, I had to equip out of the house in fifty kilometers to the district center. A week earlier, a mother went there, gone with her friend that I would buy a quarter, and on the last day of August, Uncle Vanya, the chauffeur in the collective farm, unloaded me on the street of the renomation, where I had to live, helped to put a knot to the house with Binding, encouragingly patted for a farewell on the shoulder and drank. So, at eleven years, my independent life began.

Hunger did not let go of that year, and the mother had three, I am the oldest. In the spring, when it was especially tight, I swallowed myself and forced me to swallow the sister of eyes sprouted potatoes and grains of oats and rye to dilute landing in the stomach, - then you don't have to think about food all the time. All summer, we diligently watered our seeds with clean Angarsk water, but for some reason I did not wait, or it was so small that we did not feel it. However, I think that this undertaking this is not quite useless and a person will ever come in handy, and we did something wrong there in the inexperience.

It is difficult to say how the mother decided to let me go to the area (the district center called the district). We lived without a father, they lived very badly, and she could see, judged, which will not be worse - nowhere. I studied well, I went to school with pleasure and confessed in the village for a diploma: I wrote for the old woman and I read the letters, went over all the books that were in our non-zeysh library, and in the evenings, they told all sorts of stories from them, more than adding from themselves. But especially in me believed when the case concerned the bonds. Their people had a lot for war, the winnings table came often, and then the bonds carried to me. It was believed that I had a happy eye. The winnings really happened, most often small, but the collective farmer in those years was happy to be any penny, and here out of my hands fell and completely unknown luck. The joy of her unwittingly slept and me. I was allocated from the village guys, even fed; One day, Uncle Ilya, in general, a stingy, nimble old man, winning four hundred rubles, having dried up a bucket of potatoes - under the spring it was a considerable wealth.

And all because I understood in the rooms of bonds, the mother said:

- Bashchita you have a growing guy ... You are ... Let's teach him. Digger in vain will not disappear.

And the mother, by all unhappiness, gathered me, although no one from our village in the area did not study. I was the first. Yes, I did not understand how it follows that I have to, what tests are waiting for me, dovethe, in a new place.

I learned and here well. What remained me? Then I came here and came here, I didn't have a different thing here, but he didn't treat the sleeves to the fact that I was imposed on me, I didn't know how to me. I could hardly dare to go to school, I remain unbearable at least one lesson, so in all subjects, except French, I had five.

With French I did not fit because of the pronunciation. I easily remembered the words and turnover, quickly translated, perfectly coped with the difficulties of spelling, but the pronunciation of his head was given all my Angarsk origin, right up to the last knee, where nobody called foreign words, if they suspected their existence. I spared in French on the manner of our village patter, half of the sounds in the inappropriateness swallowing, and in the second half blowing out short-trailet queues. Lydia Mikhailovna, French teacher, listening to me, frightened and closed his eyes. Nothing like it, of course, did not hear. Again and again, she showed how the nasal pronounces, combinations of vowels, asked to repeat - I was lost, my mouth was riddled in my mouth and did not move. Everything was wasted. But the worst started when I came from school. There I was unwittingly distracted, all the time I was forced to do something, the guys brake me, along with them - you wanted you do not want - I had to move, play, and in the lessons - work. But I barely stayed alone, immediately sprinkled melancholy - longing for the house, in the village. I have never taken away from the family even for a day before and, of course, I was not ready to live among other people's people. So I was bad, so bitter and pushed - worse than any disease. I just wanted one, dreamed of one thing - home and home. I lost much; Mother, who arrived at the end of September, was frightened for me. With her, I was mounted, did not complain and did not cry, but when she began to leave, could not stand and tried with the roar for the car. Mother Maha had a hand from the body, so that I was behind, I did not disgrace myself and her, I did not understand anything. Then she decided and stopped the car.

"Colive," she demanded when I approached. "Enough, I wanted to go home."

I came to my senses and ran away.

But I lost it not only because of longing the house. Besides, I also constantly disagreened. In the fall, as long as Uncle Vanya drove bread at his two-weeks to the protesno, standing near the district center, I sent me quite often, about once a week. But the whole trouble is that I was missing her. There was nothing there, except for bread and potatoes, occasionally the mother stuck in a jar of cottage cheese, who took someone to something: a cow she did not hold. They will bring - it seems, a lot, have enough in two days - empty. I very soon began to notice that the good half of my bread disappears somewhat mysteriously. Checked - it is: it was - no. The same thing happened with potatoes. Who dot - aunt Nadia Lee, shouting, a clutched woman, who washed with three kids, someone from her senior girl or younger, Fedka, - I did not know, I was afraid to even think about it, not to follow. It was a shame only that the mother sake the latter from his sake, from his sister with a brother, and it still goes by. But I forced myself to put up with it. Mother will not be easier if she hears the truth.

Hunger here was not at all like hunger in the village. There is always there, and especially in the fall, it was possible to intercept something, rip out, dig, raise, a fish went in the hangar, a bird flew in the forest. Here everything was empty for me: strangers, other people's gardens, someone else's land. A small river for ten rows was filled with wanderings. I somehow sat on Sunday with the fishing rod all day and caught three small, with a teaspoon, sanding - from such fishing, too, will not get used. No longer walked - that in vain time to translate! In the evenings, she was covered with a teahouse, in the bazaar, commemorating that they sell so if they were given saliva and he was going back with anything. On the plate at the aunt Nadi stood a hot kettle; Cathedral boiling water and hewing the stomach, went to bed. In the morning again to school. So she got up to that happy hour, when the half-timer approached the gate and uncle Vanya pounded into the door. Digging and knowing that Harch is still not lasting for a long time, no matter how I saved him, I went to the dump, up to a sharp stomach, and then, in a day or two, again sat down the teeth on the shelf.

Once, back in September, Fedka asked me:

- Are you not afraid of playing in Chiki?

- What kind of "chiku"? - I did not understand.

- This game. For money. If there is money, let's go.

- And I do not have. Let's go like that at least see. See how great.

Fedka led me for the gardens. We passed on the edge of the oblong, grocery, the hill, completely overgrown with nettle, already black, confused, with the disgusts of poisonous grapples of seeds, moved, jumping around the pile, through the old landfill and in the lowland, on a clean and smooth small glade, they saw the guys. We approached. Guys were alerted. All of them were about the same years as I, except for one - the tall and strong, noticeable guy with his strength and power of a guy with a long red bang. I remembered: he walked in the seventh class.

Frame from the film "French Lessons" (1978)

"Strange: Why are we just as before your parents, whenever we feel your guilt in front of the teachers? And not for that at all, what was at school, no, but for what happened to us after. "

In the fifth grade, I went in 1948. There was only a younger school in our village, and to learn further, I had to move to the district center for 50 kilometers from the house. At that time we lived very hungry. Of the three children in the family, I was the oldest. We grew up without a father. In the younger school, I learned well. In the village, I was considered a guide, and everyone told my mother that I should learn. Mom decided that it was worse and hungry than at home, still he would not be, and attached me to the district center to his acquaintance.

Here I also studied well. The exception was French. I easily remember the words and turns of speech, but I did not fit with the pronunciation. "I spar in French on the manner of our village patterings," from which a young teacher wrinkled.

It was best for me at school, among the peers, but at home there was a long-standing native village. In addition, I strongly disadvantaged. From time to time, Mom sent me bread and potatoes, but these products were completely disappeared somewhere. "Who caught - aunt Nadia Lee, shouting, a clutched woman who washed with three kids, someone from her senior girl or younger, Fedka," I didn't know, I was afraid to even think about it, not to follow. " Unlike the village, in the city it was impossible to catch a fish or dig into the meadow edible roots. I often for dinner I got only a mug of boiling water.

In the company that played money in "Chiku", I was brought by Fedka. Hand left there Vadik - a dealer seventh grader. From my classmates, only Tishkin appeared there, "a fussy, with a boy blinking glaciers." The game was not fun. The coins were a stack of rivers up. They had to hit them so that the coins turn over. Those that turned out to be an eagle up, became winned.

Gradually, I mastered all the games of the game and began to win. Occasionally, the mother sent me a 50 kopecks on milk - played on them. I never won more ruble a day, but it became much easier to live. However, the rest of the company this my moderation in the game did not like at all. Vadik began to cheat, and when I tried to catch it, I was very beaten.

In the morning I had to go to school with a broken physiognomy. The first lesson was French, and the teacher Lidia Mikhailovna, who was our cool, asked what happened to me. I tried to lie down, but here Tishkin leaned out and gave me me with guts. When Lidia Mikhailovna left me after lessons, I was very afraid that she would lead me to the director. Our director Vasily Andreevich had the habit of "torturing" those who guessed on the line in front of the whole school. In this case, I could exclude and send me home.

However, I did not lend me to the director Lydia Mikhailovna. She began to ask why I need money, and I was very surprised when I learned that I buy milk on them. In the end, I promised her to do without a game for money, and lied. In those days I was especially hungry, I came to Vadik again, and soon I was beaten again. Seeing fresh bruises on my face, Lidia Mikhailovna said that he would deal with me individually, after lessons.

"So began for me painful and awkward days." Soon Lydia Mikhailovna decided that "we have time in school to the second shift, and she said that I came to her apartment in the evenings." For me it was a real torture. Robust and shy, in the clean apartment of the teacher I was completely lost. "Lidia Mikhailovna was probably twenty-five years old." She was beautiful, already had time to visit the woman, a woman with the right features of the face and a little oblique eyes. Hiding this drawback, she constantly squinted. The teacher asked me a lot about the family and constantly invited to dinner, but I could not take this test and flew.

Once I was sent a strange parcel. She came to the school address. Pasta, two large slices of sugar and several hematogen tiles lay in a wooden box. I immediately understood who sent me this parcel - Mother pasta was nowhere to get. I returned the Lydia box Mikhailovna, and flatly refused to take products.

French lessons did not end. Once Lidia Mikhailovna struck me with a new fiction: she wanted to play money with me. Lydia Mikhailovna taught me the game of his childhood, "Prienna". The coins should be thrown about the wall, and then try to get the fingers from their coins to someone else's. Will you get - your win. Since then, we have played every night, trying to argue with a whisper - the school director lived in the next apartment.

Once I noticed that Lydia Mikhailovna tries to cheat, and not in his favor. In the heat of the dispute we did not notice how the director entered the apartment, who heard loud voices. Lidia Mikhailovna quietly admitted to him that he was playing with a student for money. A few days later she went to Kuban. In winter, after the holidays, another parcel came, in which "neat, dense rows lay the macaron tubes", and under them - three red apples. "I used to see apples only in the pictures, but I guessed that they were."

The boy went to the fifth grade in the forty-eighth year. It is correct to say, I went: they had only an elementary school in the village, so he was sent to learn further to the district center.

Hunger at that year has not yet retreated, and their mother had three.

It is difficult to say how the mother decided to let go of the Son in the area: they lived without a father, very bad, she could see, causing that it would not be worse - nowhere. He studied the boy well and with pleasure, wrote for the old woman, and everyone considered him "Bashchi". And the mother, by all the misfortunes, gathered him.

The boy studied and in the district center is good. For all subjects, except French, there were five. With French he did not fit due to pronunciation. Lydia Mikhailovna, a French teacher, listening to him, frightened and closed his eyes.

In the district center, the boy has lost heavily because of the longing of the house and because he constantly overtaken. In the fall, when grain from their village, the mother sent meals quite often. But she was missing.

Hunger in the city did not look at hunger in the village. There is always, especially in the fall, it was possible to intercept something, disrupt, dig. There were also other people's people, Selfiece gardens, someone else's land.

One day in September, the boy's buddy asked him if he was able to play "Chiku", and called to see. The game happened on the outskirts of the city. The boy observed and understood what the essence of the game is. The main thing is to play for money, and he realized that it would be salvation for him.

Of course, the mother had no money. But very rarely she sent 5 rubles in an envelope. It was assumed that the Son should buy milk on them - from Malokrovia. And so, when he had money again, he decided to try to play. At first, the boy lost, but with each time he felt that his hand was becoming confident. And then came the day when he won his first ruble. He no longer needed - this was enough for a half-liter jar of milk. Hunger was not so terrible.

But the boy did not have enough trick hide his skill, and soon, when after another won ruble, he was going to leave, he was stopped and beaten.

The next day, with a broken face, he came to school. Lydia Mikhailovna, who was their class leader, asked what's the matter. And someone from the rear desk, shouting, revealed his secret.

The boy waited for punishment, but the teacher calmly perceived this news. She just began to ask how much he wins and what he spends money.

"On Milk," he replied.

She sat in front of him, smart, young, beautiful, and carefully examined him.

In front of her hooked on the party the skinny boy with a broken face, untidy without mother and lonely.

Sighing, Lidia Mikhailovna translated the conversation to another. She regretted that he was not a five in French, and offered to work with him additionally.

So began for him painful and awkward days. Every evening, after classes, Lidia Mikhailovna tried to squeeze him to dinner, but the student persistently refused.

Once at school, he was told that at the bottom, in the locker room, for him there was a parcel. The boy was delighted: Of course, it brought someone from the mother. Taking a plywood box and immediately opening, he was surprised to discovered pasta and hematogen there. And he understood everything! They never had such products in the village. This teacher decided to feed it in this way. Taking the parcel, the boy took and gave it to Lydia Mikhailovna.

French lessons did not stop at this. Lydia Mikhailovna took the boy truly. And soon it gave results: pronounced phrases in French became much easier.

Once the teacher asked whether he was still playing money.

"No," answered the boy. - After all, now winter.

Lydia Mikhailovna began to remember his childhood and their games. It turns out that they also played money. Somehow Lidia Mikhailovna tried to remember this half-selling game, and soon, crawling. According to the floor and shouting at each other, they fought in "Priennok".

Now french they did little, spending all the time in the game. Winned alternately, but the boy is more and more often.

Know what it will end.

Standing against each other, they arched about the bill. They shouted, interrupting each other when they came to them surprised, if not to say, amazed, but solid, ringing voice:

- Lydia Mikhailovna, what's going on here?

The door was at the door director.

Three days later, Lidia Mikhailovna left. On the eve, she met the boy after school.

"I'll go to Kuban," she said, saying goodbye. - And you learn calmly ... I am guilty here. Learn, she saved me on his head and left.

And he never saw her anymore.

Among the winter, after the January holidays, he came by the package. There were pasta and three red apples.

Valentin Rasputin is a Soviet and Russian writer, whose creativity refer to the genre of the so-called "rustic prose." During reading the works of this author, it seems the impression that what is said about them, happens with your good acquaintances, their heroes are so convexed and vividly. For the apparent simplicity of presentation, there is a deep immersion in the characters of people forced to act in difficult everyday circumstances.

The story of "French Lessons", the summary of which will be set out in this article, in many respects autobiographical. It describes the difficult period in the life of the writer when, after graduating from elementary school, he was sent to the city to study in high school. The future writer, as well as the hero of the story, had to live in foreign people in the hungry post-war years. As he felt himself and what he experienced, you can find out, reading this small, but a bright work.

The summary of the "French Lessons". Game in "Chiku"

The story is conducted on the face of a rustic boy sent to the city to continue studying in high school. It was a hungry 1948 year, the owners of the apartment also had children who needed to feed, so the hero of the story had to take care of his impregnation. Mom sometimes sent out of the village of transmission with potatoes and bread, which quickly ended, and the boy was almost constantly hungry.

Once he got on the wasteland, where the children played for money in Chiku, and joined them. Soon he adapts to the game and began to win. But every time I left after the ruble was gaining, which I bought myself a mug of milk on the market. Milk needed to him as a medicine from Malokrovia. But this continued not long. The guys twice beat him, after which he stopped the game.

The summary of the "French Lessons". Lydia Mikhailovna

The hero of the story studied well in all subjects, except for the French language, in which he had no pronunciation. The teacher of French, Lidia Mikhailovna, noted his effort, but crushed over the obvious deficiencies in oral speech. She found out that her student played money to buy milk, which was beaten by comrades, and was filled with sympathy to a capable, but poor boy. The teacher proposed to engage in addition French at her at home, hoping under this pretext to feed the poor fellow.

The summary of the "French Lessons". "Farmers"

However, she still did not know how strong a nut happened to face her. All her attempts to sit down at the table were unsuccessful - the dyed and proud boy flatly refused to "be taken" from his teacher. Then she sent a parcel to the school with pasta, sugar and hematogen, like Mom from the village. But the hero of the story knew perfectly well that it was impossible to buy such products to buy such products, and returned the gift to the sender.

Then Lydia Mikhailovna went to extreme measures - offered the boy to play with her in the game for money, familiar with her from childhood - "frozen". He did not immediately, but agreed, considering this "honest earnings." From this day every time after the French lessons (in which he began to make great successes), the teacher and the student played the "frozen". The boy again appeared money for milk, and his life became much referring.

The summary of the "French Lessons". End of everything

Of course, it could not continue to continue. Once the school director found Lydia Mikhailovna for the game with a student for money. Of course, it was counted by an offense, not compatible with her further work at school. The teacher left three days to their homeland, to Kuban. And after a while, one of the winter days, the parcel with pasta came to school came to school and apples.

The story of the "Lessons of French" (the summary of which was the topic of this article) inspired by the director Evgeny Tashkov at the shooting of the film of the same name, which was shown for the first time in 1978. He immediately fell in love with the viewer and still produced on disks.

Year of writing:

1973

Time reading:

Description of the work:

The story of "French Lessons" is one of the best works in Valentina Rasputin's work. The story was published in 1973. Rasputin himself did not particularly highlight this work among others, and somehow mentioned that the events described occurred in his own life, so it was not difficult for him to come up with the story of the story of the "French Lessons". So, as you can see, this story is autobiographical, and the meaning of the word "lessons" in it has two values, in which the reader is convinced during the reading.

Below, read the summary of the story of "French Lessons".

"Strange: Why are we just as before your parents, whenever we feel your guilt in front of the teachers? And not for that at all, what was at school, no, but for what happened to us after. "

Once I noticed that Lydia Mikhailovna tries to cheat, and not in his favor. In the heat of the dispute we did not notice how the director entered the apartment, who heard loud voices. Lidia Mikhailovna quietly admitted to him that he was playing with a student for money. A few days later she went to Kuban. In winter, after vacation, I came another parcel, in which "neat, dense rows<…> Macaroni tubes lay ", and under them - three red apples. "I used to see apples only in the pictures, but I guessed that they were."

We hope that you liked the summary of the story of French lessons. We will be glad if you find the time to read this story entirely.