Читать книгу A Man from the Future. 1856 - Евгений Платонов - Страница 37

Semyon Ignatyich, as he introduced himself, led Dmitry through several streets to a small two-story house on a quiet street. On the gate hung a sign: “Private School of I.P. Krupov.”

“Here,” said Semyon Ignatyich. “Ivan Petrovich Krupov is a kind man, fair. He’s been working at the school for nearly twenty years. He teaches the children not just reading, but conscience, honor. A rare man these days.”

They went inside. In a small vestibule there was a smell of chalk, ink, and children’s voices – from somewhere came singing, someone was reading aloud by syllables, someone was laughing.

Semyon Ignatyich knocked on the door of a small office. From inside came:

“Enter!”

They went in. Behind a writing desk piled with notebooks and books sat a man about fifty – somewhat portly, with a round good-natured face, wearing glasses. When he saw Semyon Ignatyich, he became delighted:

“Ah, Semyon Ignatyich! What brings you? I haven’t seen you in ages!”

“Hello, Ivan Petrovich. Listen, I brought you an assistant. A young educated man looking for work. Will you take him or not?”

Krupov looked at Dmitry carefully, studying him:

“What is your name, young man?”

“Dmitry Sergeevich Komarov.”

“Komarov…” Krupov wrote something in a notebook. “And where are you from?”

“From… from the provinces,” Dmitry answered evasively. “I arrived in St. Petersburg recently.”

“What education do you have?”

“University. History and philology.”

Krupov raised his eyebrows:

“University? That’s wonderful! And which university did you graduate from?”

*Damn,* Dmitry thought. *Now he’s going to ask for documents, a diploma…*

“Kazan,” he quickly lied, remembering that Kazan University had existed for a long time.

“Kazan!” Krupov nodded. “An excellent institution. And do you have your diploma?”

“Unfortunately not,” Dmitry lowered his eyes. “I… lost all my documents. I was robbed on the road.”

“Robbed?” Krupov shook his head sympathetically. “Oh, what a misfortune! The roads have become dangerous these days, bandits have multiplied. Well, never mind, never mind. It’s not about the diploma but the knowledge. Tell me, young man,” he removed his glasses and wiped them with a handkerchief, “why do you want to teach children?”

Dmitry thought. The question was unexpected and very apt.

“I want…” he began slowly, “to do something useful. Something real. Teaching children means shaping the future. Every child you teach to read, write, think – is a person who can change the world for the better.”

*Lord,* he thought to himself, *where did I get that? But it’s true. I really do think that.*

Krupov looked at him with growing interest:

“Change the world for the better…” he repeated quietly. “Yes, young man, you’re right. That’s what I’ve been doing my whole life. I teach children not just reading, but humanity, kindness, love for one’s neighbor.” He paused, then smiled: “You know what, Dmitry Sergeevich? I’ll take you. Fifteen rubles a month, lunch included, work from nine in the morning to three in the afternoon. Do you agree?”

“I agree!” Dmitry could barely contain his joyful cry.

“Excellent. You’ll start tomorrow. Today you can watch how classes are conducted, meet the children.”

***