I need to paint you a picture. A picture of my classes in year 1. My memory became stronger and stronger as I remembered the homework that I had each day, skipping home as I told Mum the page numbers and the books. Most of the time I got it done very quickly. Mum and Dad were impressed. Mum talked to Arseniy’s grandma about homework, and apparently Arseniy took “an hour… and another hour… and a half”- according to his grandma. Dad seemed to think I was a genius because I whipped it up in 20 mins. I remember this one time, though, when I had colouring to do, and it took ages because I was pressing really hard with these hard pencils,  and overall I wanted art to be something I did in my spare time not because it was compulsory or homework. Mum suggested I press a little lighter Nevertheless I took ages and my parents were confused on how I broke my streak of quickly getting the homework over with.

Mum must have noticed how I was struggling with remembering my homework as the year progressed, because she bought me a diary. Or at least she felt that she’d struggle in my shoes. It helped a lot, though my teachers were having a hard time teaching me how to keep one. I kept writing the subjects in the homework column and so on and so forth. I kept forgetting to rewrite my timetable each week. My teacher wanted me to start writing it, so I took it home and spent hours on end writing out my timetable quite messily. My handwriting was very messy back then, and this was odd because lots of girls liked to try and make theirs neat. My handwriting is arguably worse now, lol, but I write much quicker. I can write neat if I want to, but most of the time I don’t bother because I’m trying to keep up with my train of thought. I thought that I needed to copy it out onto each pairs I was so innocently, adorably honest then, I felt a little guilty when I flicked to a random page to show the teacher, hoping it was one that was filled in. I remember lying about huge crayon scribbles on the crayon case, and confessing years later It’s odd how careful children can be. I don’t really lie these days, but I’ve done my share of sugar-coating and cautiously hiding stuff from my sister.

Grandma and Grandpa were impressed with how loyally I wrote out so many pages. I think it was one of those things that made my handwriting worse, because I copied out so much and became less and less picky about its general appearance. I just wanted to complete the quest my teacher had set me out on.

The diary is green and has a cute teddy bear holding clutching a push heart on it. I’d get you a photo of it, but we have guest’s downstairs. Remind me if you’re desperate to see it.

Vera- our teacher- stuck smiley faces in out diary Call me crazy, but I think I counted 21 smiley faces in it. I cherished each one. They were supposed to be more understandable grade for younger kids, really. I think they should use stickers in high school. They’re so much prettier, and they make sense.

Vera means faith. She was impressed when I recited my Russian alphabet in front of the class without a flaw- except for pronouncing X wrong. She made sure the class knew that this was an amazing effort, that I’d learnt two alphabets. Not only that, I’d learned it perfectly. Dad’s Russian alphabet songs makes it so much easier. I still remember my alphabet by songs, and it doesn’t sound quite right without the tune behind it, just in my mind. Well, I can handle the Latin without the tune, but the Cyrillic one needs a bit of backup.

I carried on alright with schoolwork, about average even though Russian was my second language. Later, it became my second mother tongue. Vera tried to speak English at first, when she could ask for “scissors”, but soon it became unnecessary and I learnt Russian just fine. It became a second mother tongue.

I went to school in English the 1st semester of yr 5 on a home assignment, and I suddenly pulled ahead of my class, because suddenly I was learning in my own language.

Sometimes I worry that I’ll forget Russian. Grandma assured me a month ago that though it seems to get dusty slowly, it’ll come back quickly when I return. She’d know. That’s how it was for grandpa. I felt this burden because I’d promised my parents friends I wouldn’t’ forget the language. I need someone to speak Russian to, besides my parents. My siblings get annoyed uneasy when we speak Russian around them because they don’t understand. We try to teach them, but Robyn can’t even roll her r’s so she can’t even pronounce her name properly. It’s kind of sad, but Mum can’t roll r’s either. I need to someone I can speak Russian to, fluently.






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