A story about your teacher 1. Essay on my first teacher. Several interesting essays
Mishkastr
Nov 14, 2013 7:12:38 PM (2 years ago)
there are several of them here :) To the first teacher
We thank fate for
That we are so lucky in life,
What hand did you bring?
To the beginning of a difficult journey!
Sow goodness in our hearts,
We were taught to recognize evil,
And with its justice
You conquered all the children!
You were our guide
At our meeting with the primer.
You helped us open the world,
Write and be friends with books!
Always for each of us
Did you find the time?
And every day and every hour
You were patient!
We love you with all our hearts
Both adults and kids,
Our girls and boys,
Both quiet and playful!
We will never forget
The radiant light of beloved eyes,
We wish you to be healthy,
We want to see you happy!
about the days of celebrations and inconspicuous everyday life -
God knows in what year, in what region -
We will not forget with a kind word
...
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My first teacher.
In 2007, I went to first grade at gymnasium No. 1.
My first teacher is Olga Ivanovna Kroshkina.
From the first day of school I really liked her. She taught us to write, read, count, draw and do various crafts. She taught us to respect our elders and value our friends. She helps us overcome difficulties.
Olga Ivanovna is a fair, kind, wise and beautiful teacher. Many girls from our class want to be like her.
She doesn't make any comments about trifles. Olga Ivanovna values our time and takes care of our health.
She spends a lot of personal time with us students. She goes hiking with us, to the theater, circus, and goes on excursions.
All the children like it when Olga Ivanovna conducts an exciting program for various holidays. She remembers each student’s birthday and will definitely congratulate them with a small gift.
This year we are finishing fourth grade and will move on to fifth grade...
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The story of the first teacher
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The story of the first teacher
“Learning is light, but ignorance is darkness,” says popular wisdom. The life of every person is illuminated by a teacher. The teacher opens his business, a big world to which his life is dedicated. A good teacher makes you want to enter his world. The world of my teacher is his student. When I was faced with the question of which teacher to write about, I didn’t think twice about it. I would like to tell you right away about my teacher, who, it seems to me, greatly influences me. This is my first teacher - Svetlana Vladimirovna. She has been teaching us for four years and is our class teacher. I'm talking about Svetlana Vladimirovna - a wonderful teacher, a wonderful woman. Svetlana Vladimirovna and I met when we came to first grade. It seemed to me that at first I was very afraid of the strict and demanding teacher. But...
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A student's story about his class.
We have a big class. Sometimes we are friends, and sometimes we quarrel. But we're more friends. After all, there are very different kids in our class. There are excellent students, they are the smartest among us. Excellent students always have homework ready and can be copied. They also always answer well at the board and write tests with straight A's. There is also a poor student in our class. He is always late for classes, rarely does his homework, often comes unkempt and with untied shoelaces, but we are still friends with him because he is kind. And in labor lessons he always behaves well and even gets straight A’s. Most of the guys in our class are good or C students.
There are kids in our class who play sports. They go to training after classes. Many boys go to football, and girls to gymnastics and dancing. In physical education, the teacher always praises them and says that they need to follow an example. I also want to go to the sports section.
And also in our class...
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There was a small house on the edge of the village. There was a beautiful garden next to the house. The teacher Maria Ivanovna lived in the house. She once taught first-graders, but was now retired.
One day, being late at work, I passed by the house of Maria Ivanovna, my first teacher. It was already starting to get dark. I heard some sounds in the garden. And I decided to come closer. I saw that Maria Ivanovna was picking apples from the ground. I must say that that year turned out to be rich in apple harvest. The weather was wonderful, and there were a lot of apples.
Calling out to Maria Ivanovna, I entered the gate. She was standing not far away. There were apples at the hem of her apron. Or rather, apples were everywhere: in boxes, on the ground, on branches. I volunteered to help. We spent a long time picking apples and remembering our school days. Maria Ivanovna said that our graduation was one of the best and she often remembers it. I told Maria Ivanovna about my work.
We soon finished, but it was clear that tomorrow again a large number of apples would be on the ground. Apples already...
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A person spends the most important years of his life in school. School remains a bright stage in every person’s life path for a long time.
For each of us, school is a second home. There is also a second mother here - our first teacher. It was she who taught us to write, read, and think logically. The teacher teaches us to be kind, honest, communicate correctly, and be friends.
School gives us support, gives us warmth and joy. Every morning we rush to our bright classroom, where the teacher greets us with a warm smile.
School is the main stage in our life. It builds character and teaches us to relate correctly to the world around us. At school we find our first real friends and our first love.
School is the place where we experience the first joys of victories and try to hide the bitter tears of defeat. School teaches us to overcome difficulties and not stop there. The school hosts many events - intellectual, sports and...
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Very briefly: At the dawn of Soviet power, a young, illiterate guy comes to an village in the Kazakh steppe and founds a school, opening up a new world for local children.
The composition of the work is built on the principle of a story within a story. The initial and final chapters represent the artist’s reflections and memories, the middle is the main character’s story about her life. The entire narration is told in the first person: the first and last parts are from the narrator’s point of view, the middle is from the academician’s point of view.
The artist is planning to paint a picture, but cannot yet choose a theme for it. He remembers his childhood in the village of Kurkureu, in the Kazakh steppe. The main symbol of my native place appears before my eyes - two large poplars on a hillock. This bare hillock in the village is called the “school of Duishen”. Once upon a time, a certain Komsomol member decided to organize a school there. Now one name remains.
The artist receives a telegram - an invitation to the opening of a new school in the village. There he meets the pride of Kurkureu - academician Altynai Sulaymanovna Sulaymanova. After the ceremonial part, the director invites the collective farm activists and the academician to his place. Telegrams of congratulations were brought from former students: Duishen brought them. Now he delivers mail. Duishen himself does not come to the party: he must finish his work first.
Now many people remember with a grin his idea with the school: he, they say, did not know the whole alphabet himself. The elderly academician blushes at these words. She hastily leaves for Moscow that same day. Later she writes a letter to the artist and asks him to convey her story to people.
In 1924, young Duishen appears in the village and wants to open a school. He puts the barn on the hill in order with his own efforts.
Orphan Altynai lives in the family of an aunt who is burdened by the girl. The child sees only insults and beatings. She starts going to school. Duishen's affectionate attitude and kind smile warms her soul.
During the lesson, the teacher shows the children a portrait of Lenin. For Duishen, Lenin is a symbol of the bright future of ordinary people. Altynai recalls that time: “I think about it now and am amazed: how this illiterate guy, who himself had difficulty reading syllables, ... how could he dare to do such a truly great thing!.. Duishen did not have the slightest idea about the program and teaching methods... Without knowing it, he accomplished a feat... for us, Kyrgyz children, who had never been anywhere outside the village,... suddenly an unprecedented world opened up... "
In the cold, Duishen carried children in his arms and on his back to wade across an icy river. Rich people, passing by at such moments in fox robes and sheepskin coats, laughed contemptuously at him.
In winter, on the night of the teacher’s return from the volost, where he went for three days every month, the aunt drives Altynai out to her distant relatives - the old men Saikal and Kartanbai. Duishen lived with them at that time.
In the middle of the night, a “nasal, guttural howl” is heard. Wolf! And not alone. Old man Kartanbai realized that the wolves were surrounding someone - a person or a horse. At this moment, Duishen appears at the door. Altynai cries behind the stove with happiness that the teacher has returned alive.
In the spring, the teacher and Altynai plant two “young bluish-trunked poplars” on a hillock. Duishen believes that the girl’s future is in learning and wants to send her to the city. Altynai looks at him with admiration: “a new, unfamiliar feeling from a world still unknown to me rose in my chest like a hot wave.”
Soon an aunt comes to school with a red-faced man who recently appeared in their house. Red-faced and two other horsemen beat Duishen, who was protecting the girl, and take Altynai away by force. Her aunt gave her as a second wife. At night, the red-faced man rapes Altynai. In the morning, a bandaged Duishen with policemen appears in front of the yurt, and the rapist is arrested.
Two days later, Duishen takes Altynai to the station - she will study at a Tashkent boarding school. The teacher, with his eyes full of tears, shouts “Altynai!” to the departing train, as if he forgot to say something important.
In the city of Altynai he studies at the workers' faculty, then in Moscow at the institute. In the letter, she confesses to Duishen that she loves him and is waiting for him. This ends their correspondence: “I think that he refused me and himself because he did not want to interfere with my studies.”
The war begins. Altynai learns that Duishen has joined the army. There is no more news about him.
After the war, she travels on a train across Siberia. In the window, Altynay sees Duishen in the switchman and breaks the stop valve. But the woman misidentified herself. People from the train think that she saw her husband or brother who died in the war and sympathize with Altynai.
Years pass. Altynai is marrying a good man: “We have children, a family, we live together. I am now a Doctor of Philosophy.”
She writes to the artist about what happened in the village: “...it was not I who should have been given all sorts of honors, it was not I who should have sat in the place of honor at the opening of a new school. First of all, our first teacher had this right... - old Duishen... I want to go to Curcureu and invite people there to call the new boarding school “Duishen’s school.”
Impressed by the story of Altynai, the artist thinks about the painting that has not yet been painted: “... my contemporaries, how can I make sure that my idea not only reaches you, but becomes our common creation?” He chooses which of the episodes told by the academician to depict on his canvas.
A story about the first teacher. Vera Prokhorovna Bessonova. Memories of school. Congratulations on September 1st. Gennady Lyubashevsky.
Dear colleagues, friends!
The calendar summer is ending. And I immediately remember the lines from the song: “Autumn is coming, it’s August outside the windows”...
But the first day of autumn will be remembered for the rest of our lives precisely because on September 1 we became first-graders. Remember how it was?
Of course, each of us has our own memories, but the holiday - Day of Knowledge - is common. Let us congratulate each other, our children and grandchildren on this wonderful holiday and once again remember our mentors who gave us a start in life.
Happy holiday everyone! New creative success to you!
Teacher! Before your name
Let me humbly kneel.
N. A. Nekrasov
“The first teacher”... I wrote these words on a blank sheet of paper, slowly and carefully, as I once wrote out the letters in a school handwriting notebook. And he stopped. The hand hung over the sheet. What to write about next? After all, I have long wanted to write about her - about his first teacher Vera Prokhorovna Bessonova. And now I can’t put together fragments of phrases and thoughts. There is so much I want to say, but there are not enough words...
My first teacher... A person who, invisibly, like a guardian angel, has always been and will be next to me, who largely determined my fate and the fate of my classmates. Thanks to her, we became friends back in 1956, we have carefully preserved our friendship for more than 55 years and will cherish it as long as our hearts beat.
We called Vera Prokhorovna our second mother, and she addressed us only as “children.” These children have long since become grandfathers and grandmothers, but for her we always remained children, her children. We often came to her in her small room in a communal apartment, and this room, like many years ago, was filled with our voices. We brought her photographs of our wives and husbands, our children and grandchildren. She knew everything about us, even things that our parents sometimes didn’t know. We are used to confiding in her our little children’s secrets first, and then our big adult secrets. We brought her flowers for her birthday, for March 8, for Teacher's Day, and for Passover - matzo, which she called “Jewish bread” and ate instead of bread because she had diabetes. Our classmates living in Israel or visiting relatives there always brought medicines and sugar substitutes from there and did not forget to carefully peel off the price labels. We could afford much more, but she herself did not allow us to do so. Only once, when Vera Prokhorovna turned 80, we gathered not at her house, but in a cafe and brought our teacher there in a big black car. Then, in 2003, her anniversary coincided with Teacher's Day. At the holiday table, we, the former kids whom she taught from 1956 to 1960, said so many good words to her that the waitress later confessed: “I listened and cried.”
Since childhood, we knew by heart all the nooks and crannies of her yard and the number of steps along which we climbed to her top, fifth floor. Some of us were lucky enough to climb the steps of life's ladder to the very top, some reached the middle, and some stumbled and remained far below. That's how life worked out. But none of us ever felt this difference - that’s what she taught us. We were equal before her and before each other: Olympic champion Yura Lagutin and mechanic Arkasha Kolyada, Chairman of the Leninsky District Administration Vova Kiyanitsa and hairdresser Sveta Kovaleva, Honored Trainer of Ukraine Lenya Tsybulsky and blacksmith Zhenya Mishevsky, artists Vova Gorodissky and Tolik Nekupny, lawyer Valya Tavtelev and Vitya Denisov, who broke the law, but was still not rejected by us. We were always children to her. Perhaps because Vera Prokhorovna lost her only 3-year-old son when she was still a very young woman, she was so drawn to us, her boys and girls. Or maybe she had a very big heart...
All of us, future first-graders, lived not far from our school - the old school No. 2, which turned 100 years old in 2005. In this school, Vera Prokhorovna worked as a primary school teacher from 1949 until her retirement. The building in which our school used to be still stands between the church and Heroes of Stalingrad Street in the Small Market area. Then this street was called Shkolnaya. There were only 8 classrooms in the building for 33 classes. In one corner of the corridor there is a library, in the other there is a corner where lessons in labor, singing, and drawing were held. The toilet is outside. The building is cold. But there was a large yard where we played football during breaks and after school.
The last summer days of distant 1956... Back to school soon. But you can still run around the streets for a few days, look over the fence into the neighbor’s garden, tease the dog, or sit on the seat of the semi-truck in which the neighbor came home for lunch. Our settlement with crooked streets (even the neighboring lane was called Krivoy) and old rickety houses from the times of pre-revolutionary Aleksandrovsk, a flea market, popularly called Tucha, boys’ raids on the copter shop of Zaporozhstal, where among the scrap metal one could easily find weapons from the times of an as yet unforgotten war. We did not always have a well-fed, but happy childhood. There was no pile of stone boxes around and asphalt underfoot. And the boys played not computer games, but football, “knives” or “knockout”, tossed a piece of fur with a lead weight with their feet - a “lightweight” - and counted who could “hit” the most. And some of the older guys were already casting brass knuckles from lead. And the apple plucked from the branch smelled of an apple, and not of overseas devilry, and one side of the apple was warmer than the other, because the sun had heated it. In a pile of sand one could find a coin from 1736 with the strange name “denga”, and in the attic one could find a gramophone pipe and a pre-revolutionary edition of Lermontov’s poems. Going to the cinema with the whole family was in the order of things, but there were simply no televisions then.
Our family was serious about raising children. And the fact that the boy could read and write long before entering first grade, played chess with his dad, and painted with his mother, was considered in the order of things at our house. One August day, when Vera Prokhorovna was walking around her future pets, getting to know them and their families, I was able to demonstrate to her my abilities. And our family became close to Vera Prokhorovna for many, many years. How many years have passed since that memorable day, and my dad never forgot to call Vera Prokhorovna, congratulate her on the holiday, and inquire about her health. And I did the same.
And now this long-awaited day has come - September 1st! Already lying on the chair are the striped “weekend” “Swede”, ironed by my mother, and the black panties with braces, which my grandmother for some reason called “harnesses”. And grandpa walks with pruning shears around a huge bush of dahlias and chooses the most beautiful ones. Dad is taking me to school. From this day on, this is his area of responsibility. Throughout all my years of study, in all the schools my brother and I visited, my dad was on the parent committee. Naturally, I later also became the chairman of the parent committee at the school where my daughter studied. How could it have been different?
The school yard is full of people, surrounded by flowers. And here is our teacher. Very young, stately, beautiful. She pins a paper diamond on each of us with 1 “A” written on it. That's it, we are already first graders! First, as usual, there is a short rally, then we are taken to take pictures. Here is this photo. Our whole class. My dear classmates. The faces are not from an electronic site, but from life. The photograph shows that life was not at all easy for many families: the children were dressed, although festively, modestly. Only some of the girls have white aprons and white satin bows. And everyone has tense anticipation on their face. What will happen to all of us tomorrow, the day after tomorrow? We sit around our teacher like little chicks. How young we were...
We studied together with Vera Prokhorovna for only four years. Four years of primary school and throughout life. Our first teacher belonged to that tribe of selfless and infinitely devoted people to their profession who are called “unsung heroes.” Hundreds of students grew up before her eyes, they calmly and confidently entered adulthood, and the children of many of them came to school with the same Vera Prokhorovna. She was able to discern individuality and hidden talent in everyone. At one of the first lessons, Vera Prokhorovna handed us a piece of paper and said: “Draw what you know.” The boys drew airplanes and cars, the girls - dolls and houses. And Vova Kiyanitsa drew such a tank that everyone gasped. The teacher took him, Tolya Nekukupny and Vova Gorodissky by the hands and led them to the art studio of the Palace of Pioneers. Gorodissky and Nekukupny did become professional artists (Volodya was even an Honored Artist of Ukraine), I also went to Ivan Fedorovich Fedyanin’s art studio, but Kiyanitsa and I did not have the chance to become artists.
All the boys wanted to play sports and kicked the ball around in the schoolyard until dark. I was shorter than others and usually took a place in the goal. Then the time came for me to become interested in sambo wrestling. An example for us was the famous Tsybulski dynasty in the city. One of its representatives was our classmate Lenya. (We are sitting next to him in our first general photo). And we lived nearby. Lenya has always been a man of the broadest soul and exceptional charm. And he achieved great success in sports, becoming a famous judo coach. The future Olympic handball champion Yura Lagutin, Volodya Maryanovsky, and many other of our boys connected their lives with sports. And Vera Prokhorovna put a piece of her soul into all of us.
It would seem that she taught us the same school curriculum as other teachers. And, nevertheless, there was some secret in the fact that the noisiest and most reckless suburban boys sat in her lessons decorously and quietly, greedily catching her every word. Of course, we were not angels. But Vera Prokhorovna had her own special approach to each of us; she found her own special words for each of us. She was truly like a mother. And we tried to repay her with our love, to provide childishly naive but sincere signs of attention. Vera Prokhorovna’s hands ached, cold since the war, when she was taken to Germany as a girl. She managed to escape from the camp, but the memory of the war remained for the rest of her life. And then one day she asked us to catch some bees for her (someone advised her to treat herself with bee venom). The next morning, almost the entire class came to class with matchboxes, from which the deep hum of small insects could be heard, and proudly piled a bunch of boxes on the teacher's table. A small but striking fact from our daily life. Our beloved teacher lived this life with us, taught her students, as they said then, to master knowledge and engage in socially useful work, and not “for show,” but seriously, for real. Whether it was collecting waste paper or scrap metal, a trip to the Kakhovka Sea or riding an airplane for the first time in her life, she was always with us.
Of course, the children had different abilities and inclinations. But Vera Prokhorovna, in some incomprehensible way, was able to discern in each of us the main thing that later determined our future destiny.
There were a lot of funny situations in our lessons. I remember the case with Yura Lagutin. There was a dictation in the Ukrainian language, Vera Prokhorovna, in her clearly defined “teacher” voice, pronounced word by word, after each word followed: “coma” (in Russian “comma”), and Yura conscientiously wrote down in the notebook every word from the dictation plus the word “ coma”... We made fun of it a lot later. However, this did not prevent Yura from becoming the Olympic handball champion in Munich in 1972. Alas, the consequences of a serious injury led to his untimely death...
Since I remembered Yura, I’ll tell you that one day, when I went to visit our classmate and his cousin Ira, I saw on the wall a picture of Pushkin mortally wounded in a duel. I stood for several minutes at the small canvas, shocked by how the artist conveyed the suffering of the great poet. The author of the painting was Ira’s father, an amateur artist. This picture still stands before my eyes...
Our class was international. But we all, regardless of nationality, felt like we were in one big family. And this is the undoubted merit of our first teacher. For the rest of my life I will remember the words of Vera Prokhorovna, once said during a “class hour”: “Children! Here Igor Gipsman is Jewish by nationality, Valya Tavtelev is Tatar, Vera Yatselenko is Ukrainian, Vitya Denisov is Russian. But we all live in a country called the Soviet Union, and we are all equal citizens of this great country, regardless of our nationality. You should be friends with each other and help each other.” Prophetic words of a great woman and a great Teacher! We still remember them sacredly. We will always remember. We will pass it on to our children and grandchildren. And on a mournful autumn day in 2008, we, her children, came to see off our beloved teacher on her last journey. Our multinational class.
The last time we went into her room, where our photographs hung on the walls and where our cheerful voices would never sound again. The last time we stood at her entrance, sheltering from the piercing wind and not hiding our wet eyes from each other. And when the coffin was taken out of the entrance, a strange man suddenly came out from behind a tree, as if disembodied and detached from the world. Poorly dressed, in some kind of ridiculous short coat, on his hands - thread gloves with cut off fingers, under his arm - something wrapped in a rag. No one had seen him before. It was as if he appeared out of thin air. The stranger unwrapped the rag and... brought the violin to his shoulder. I have heard and seen many great musicians. But I have never heard such an extraordinary performance. Probably, the Lord sent his angel to us to receive the soul of our teacher to the divine sounds of the violin. The melody of Sviridov from the music to Pushkin’s story “The Snowstorm” sounded.
NOMINATION: "Essay-story"My first teacher"
Polishchuk Tatyana Vladimirovna, 7th grade, Lviv Secondary School
My first teacher
The first of September is the most exciting holiday!
Every child probably remembers his very first lesson. This is so beautiful, so touching! And it seems to you that you are the happiest person in the world!
I remember my first day at school, at my desk, with a book, notebook and pen. And, of course, my very first teacher, Irina Alekseevna Mostovaya. She is short, thin, with a pale face. But as soon as she smiles, cute dimples appear on her cheeks. Cheerful sparkles flashed in her green eyes, covered with thick eyelashes. This was when we made our first successes. She is kind, beautiful and understanding.
It’s so wonderful when you walk hand in hand with your first teacher with flowers in your hands. Everyone looks at you and admires you.
And the first lesson is so exciting! For the first time, the teacher brought me to class, sat me at my desk and told me and my classmates about the school, about the rules of behavior, about the subjects that we would study. She talked about what each subject will teach us and where it can be useful to us. I especially liked the penmanship lesson. It was necessary to print each letter, each stick according to the pattern. How many times did she force me to rewrite the letter! I tried, and I did pretty well. And my teacher helped me with this. I enjoyed attending this lesson. Of course, I liked the rest of the lessons, but I especially liked the penmanship lesson.
Our teacher explained everything in detail and clearly. She never scolded us, she was friendly, calm, always smiling, and this calmness was passed on to us. She was always in a good mood. But she was also demanding. She didn't let anyone down.
I especially remember the holiday that took place at our school. Our class prepared a congratulations concert for mothers. Our teacher drew up a script, came up with musical numbers and various competitions. We performed very well. The mothers were pleased with our performance. It was so great! And after the concert we had a tea party. All the students in our class brought something sweet for tea, and the teacher baked a huge cake. While drinking tea, we played and took part in competitions invented by our teacher. When the holiday came to an end, everyone cleared the tables and went home, satisfied and happy.
I think being in first grade was my favorite memorable experience in school.
And when I moved to second grade, my first teacher left our village. Then in the elementary level we were taught by another teacher.
I will never forget my first teacher and my first lesson. I would like her to teach me now, but, unfortunately, this is impossible. But I still have the best memories of my first teacher.
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My first teacher
Your experience is a treasure of wisdom
I, Petina Ksenia, am a 7th grade student at the Sorochinskaya Secondary School. I really like the school. Large bright corridors, cozy offices, lots of flowers. This is our school, our childhood, our youth. Many years will pass, we will change, the world around us will change, but the school will forever remain in our memory. I don’t know a single person who doesn’t remember his school years with love and warmth. And, of course, thoughts about school are inextricably linked for us with thoughts about our teacher. When I was faced with the question of which teacher to write about, I seriously thought about it. I would like to tell you about several teachers at once. But still, my choice fell on a person who is very dear to me, and not only to me, but also to my older sisters Vika and Angela, whom this teacher also taught. This is Tatyana Ivanovna Zamorovskaya - an excellent teacher and a wonderful woman.
She has been working at our school for 20 years. Teaching experience – 30 years. Tatyana Ivanovna’s path to teaching is direct and simple: 19 years old - graduation from Omsk Pedagogical School No. 1, 25 years old - graduation from the Omsk State Pedagogical Institute named after M. Gorky, 20 years old - beginning of teaching activity.
Tatyana Ivanovna and I met when we entered fifth grade. At first we were very afraid of the strict and demanding teacher. And I had a wary attitude towards the Russian language: this subject seemed too boring and difficult. But Tatyana Ivanovna quickly turned our ideas upside down. Cheerful and at the same time strict, kind and demanding, she instantly became the subject of our constant disputes. Many of us did not believe that such “incompatible” qualities could be combined in one person. But after getting to know the new teacher better, we realized that this was possible. Gradually we began to become more and more attached to Tatyana Ivanovna, and she fell in love with us. Sometimes, right in class, we could take a break from the topic, listen to stories about her life, joke and laugh, which did not interfere with learning new material. It was thanks to Tatyana Ivanovna that, not even expecting to understand and love the Russian language, I suddenly realized that I have an interest in the humanities. In Tatyana Ivanovna’s presentation, many difficult questions of the Russian language acquired “fresh shades” that aroused curiosity and interest in us. Tatyana Ivanovna always knew how to liven up boring lessons. Of course, everything was not always so smooth, there were also unpleasant stories, but I think it’s not worth talking about them. These misunderstandings were rare and minor, and no one held any grudges against each other. She will be remembered not only as a wonderful teacher, but also as a kind-hearted person who never remained indifferent to our problems. Tatyana Ivanovna always meets us halfway, sparing no time of her own to help us take part in any competition, Olympiad, or to work with us additionally after school. But the main thing is not even this, the main thing is that with the help of Tatyana Ivanovna we were able to understand what a truly good teacher is.
Years will pass. A lot will change. I will become an adult and master my favorite profession. Tatyana Ivanovna will probably retire. But I will definitely return to my native walls of the school, I will come to the class where we sat at our desks, where we learned the Russian language and the ability to be human, we learned from her, my favorite teacher. Her work has been rewarded with many awards, among them a Certificate of Honor from the Ministry of the Russian Federation, and this year Tatyana Ivanovna became the winner of the All-Russian competition “The Best Teacher of Russia” within the framework of the national project “Education”. We are very proud of her and think that it is good that she works in our Sorochin school.
I would like to wish my teacher all the kindest, brightest, most beautiful things and give her these heartfelt lines:
Life tells you to teach, and for us to learn.
Your experience is a treasure trove of wisdom.
Everything we took from you will be useful
And it will become a hundred times more significant.
Teach light, sensitivity, truth
Our souls and our minds.
Everything you ask us in life,
We will try to fulfill it.
=
My first teacher
For the stomping, hubbub and worries
Forgive us, teachers!
You won't be left without work,
As long as the earth turns.
The first teacher is a person who opens the door to the land of knowledge for students, and therefore is remembered for a lifetime. You are always happy when you see him, because this is your second mother.
My first teacher was Elena Mikhailovna Bobkova. When I walked into her class for the first time, I immediately liked everything. And most of all I liked Elena Mikhailovna herself. As I remember now, she was always a very friendly, smart and intelligent woman with a bright sparkle in her eyes. She taught me everything I know now. I am very grateful to her for her interesting lessons, for her much needed work! If only there were more teachers like Elena Mikhailovna Bobkova!
I will never forget my first teacher. Many, many years later, I will suddenly come to school to visit Elena Mikhailovna, hug her like a loved one and tell her about everything good and bad that happened in my life. And she will listen to me, give me good advice and encourage me. I have no doubt about it!
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My first teacher
School is a long ladder in the life of every person. We walk along this ladder, and every year there is a new class, a new step. The foundation for our long, difficult journey is laid by the person closest to us - the first teacher. And a lot depends on what kind of person this person will be.
Bobkova Elena Mikhailovna can proudly bear the title of teacher. How many children did she pave the way to the world of knowledge, to the world of school, to the world of childhood?! At home - mom, for friends - Lena, at school - Elena Mikhailovna. At home she is kind and loving, at school she is strict and fair. So many different characters come together in one person. This is probably why my warmest, most pleasant memories are associated with elementary school. Elena Mikhailovna always prepared interesting lessons and interesting events for us, and always tried to come up with something new and original. In addition to the knowledge that she gave us in her lessons, she cultivated in us kindness, good-heartedness, patriotism and much more.
Elementary School! The name itself speaks for itself: the beginning of the journey. It is very important that you are accompanied on this path by a smart, good person and teacher. I was very lucky with my teacher. Thank you, dear Elena Mikhailovna, for being such a wonderful person and a very good teacher!
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My first teacher is T.N. Shmigelskaya.
From early childhood I was an inquisitive, sociable and restless child. I constantly asked my mother to read me various fairy tales. And my mother and grandmother decided that I needed to learn to read on my own. So, at the age of six I already knew how to read children’s fairy tales on my own and write letters in a foreign language. Everyone taught me: my mother, my grandmother, and my neighbor Lyuda. It's time to get ready for school, first grade. I was worried: how would I study there, and what if I wasn’t interested? After all, I already know how to do everything they teach in first grade.
Finally, the first of September. All the children came to school beautiful, dressed up, and a little scared. We were greeted by our first teacher. She introduced herself to us - Shmigelskaya Tatyana Nikolaevna. I still remember my first impression of meeting her. Tatyana Nikolaevna, a young, beautiful, slightly anxious, tall woman, with a surprisingly kind look and a sweet smile, entered the class. It seemed that her gaze was directed at each of us individually, but at the same time, she saw the whole class at once. In those few minutes when Tatyana Nikolaevna silently, with a barely noticeable smile, looked at us, there was a feeling that she managed to penetrate the soul of each student, study his character, hear his thoughts. Everyone involuntarily became silent. Her voice sounded clear and loud. That's how I met my first teacher. My fears about how I would study were not confirmed at school, because the teacher’s lessons were interesting and exciting. And every day I learned something new and useful for myself. I was not bored in the lessons because Tatyana Nikolaevna always found interesting and more difficult tasks for those who had already understood the new material. She turned a simple school lesson on learning about the world into a whole journey into the natural world. In mathematics lessons, she taught us not just to solve, but to think logically. After all, this will be so useful in high school. Russian language and reading were lessons on developing the culture of speech and language. Tatyana Nikolaevna has always been a serious teacher, strict and fair. But during breaks and after classes, she lived the life of the students: our worries, sorrows, our children's problems. She could understand everyone. And she tried to help everyone. Class hours became a real holiday for us, no matter what the conversation was about. Tatyana Nikolaevna taught us to live in a group and for a group, tried to unite and make friends with all the children in the class, although we are all so different.
So two and a half years of schooling flew by unnoticed. But one day our teacher got sick. Other teachers began to take over the lessons. And we really wanted Tatyana Nikolaevna to return to us quickly. They were constantly interested in her health and counted the days of her recovery. And when she arrived, there was so much joy and fun!
Now I'm in 7th grade. But we remember and do not forget her. We always congratulate you on the holidays, we come running to our former class during breaks, sit at our desks and dream. With my excellent studies, I confirm all the knowledge that she invested in me. And I guess that she is proud of me too. I do not forget her, and maintain a good relationship with her. I will always congratulate you on the holiday and inquire about her health. I constantly tell you what's new in our class. And she always wonders how we, her children, are doing here.
Being a real teacher is a talent. After all, a teacher must be able to convey his experience and knowledge to children. Probably every teacher wants his student to achieve success in the future. And, of course, every teacher is pleased when this happens. But the most important joy for a teacher, I think, is the gratitude of the students. I want to say a huge thank you to Tatyana Nikolaevna for everything she did for us, for the fact that she, sparing no effort and time, patiently and persistently put into our little children’s heads the knowledge that will be useful to us in life.
My first teacher
M
I don’t want to remember and tell on this page about my first teacher Tatyana Dmitrievna Chepovskaya. I remember how six years ago my mother led me by the hand to school. I was a little scared then: what was going on at school, what if the teacher was angry. For some reason, everyone scares little children about school.
And here we are standing on our first school line. Lots of people, flowers. Everyone congratulates us.
Our teacher is standing next to us, first graders. She smiles and tells us something.
After the line, Tatyana Dmitrievna brought us to class, sat us at our desks and kept talking and talking...
We quickly became friends with Tatyana Dmitrievna. We learned to write and read syllables.
I liked studying, although I was often lazy to do my homework well and was restless in class. But Tatyana Dmitrievna patiently worked with me, never shouted at me, did not complain to my mother, although she gave two grades in the journal. I wasn't offended by it. It was fair.
And how many interesting holidays our teacher spent with us, arranged birthday greetings, and gave gifts to everyone. If we quarreled, Tatyana Dmitrievna always tried to reconcile us so that we immediately forgot all the grievances. The most unforgettable experience for me was my 4th grade graduation party. There were many gifts, flowers, kind words. It was also a little sad to part with my beloved teacher.
This year Tatyana Dmitrievna is teaching first-graders. And it seems to me that they will be just as comfortable with their teacher as I was then, six years ago.
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Samutenko Alexander Dmitrievich, 7th grade MBOU "Oryol Secondary School"
My teacher
The first teacher... Who is he?
In everyone's life there is a first teacher whom they really like and want to imitate. And I am glad that I have such a teacher. This is Elena Anatolyevna Pustovit, our class teacher. She met us in the fifth grade kindly, with a smile, in the Russian language classroom festively decorated with flowers and bright balloons.
I was very worried, worried about how our life would go in the fifth grade. Everything is different: different teachers, a new class teacher. But we were lucky. Elena Anatolyevna is a very interesting person, a good teacher and class teacher. She teaches us to express our thoughts correctly and beautifully, to read works carefully, to talk about the actions of heroes, to see the beauty of a poem.
And what interesting things are happening in our class! Quiz “New Year's Field of Miracles”, games: “Myths and Stars”, “Through the Mouth of a Baby”, “Two Ships”, competition “The Magnificent Seven”, holiday-concert for mothers “Russian Gatherings”, solemn line “Glory to Stalingrad”. We not only learn something new, but also discover each other, new qualities in ourselves. We can come up with and host an event ourselves.
I remember an interesting class hour-project “In the world of professions”: we composed a defense, an advertisement for professions, prepared a message, staged the excerpt “The Magnificent House Painter”. I like the profession of a driver, which I talked about.
It turns out that we are all capable children, “stars,” as Elena Anatolyevna calls us. We are used to seeing her smiling every day before classes start. She is interested in our mood, health and always wishes us success for the current day. And it becomes joyful and easy. She loves us and treats us like a mother.
Together with Elena Anatolyevna, we take part in various school activities. She teaches us to be kind, honest and always help each other. Thanks to Elena Anatolyevna, we have a very friendly class.
I am very glad that I have such a wonderful class teacher.
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Today is September 1st!!!
Well, now it’s time to go to school, learn various necessary and interesting things. My parents enrolled me in Gymnasium No. 1 in the city of Kalachinsk. I was told that I would study in the 1st “B” grade.
On this exciting day I got up early. Flowers and briefcase are in place... And your heart is in your heels! I wish I could look at you in first grade!
All the students of the school met us at the ceremony. The director and the most authoritative mentors gave solemn speeches to us.
And now the most exciting moment for us - the first school bell rings.
Here is our future class, with whom I have to go along the school road to knowledge.
Here is my first teacher. I still remember my first impression of meeting her. A slightly overweight, rather tall woman, with a surprisingly kind look and a sweet smile, entered the class. Her voice sounded clear and loud.
Look what kind of teacher we have! Her name is Balatsun Oksana Igorevna. I wonder if she is strict? If it is strict, then it must be fair. We will love her, because she will teach us how to solve the first problems in our lives. That's how I met my first teacher.
After such an acquaintance, lessons began. Every day I learned something new and useful for myself. I was not bored in the lessons because Oksana Igorevna always found interesting and more difficult tasks for those who had already understood the new material.
She turns simple lessons into something new and useful for us students, and in mathematics lessons we not only solved problems, but also learned to think logically together with the teacher. Each of the first-graders tries to help her with something, no matter what, wipe the board off, or help lay out the preparatory material for work. Oksana Igorevna teaches us to live in a group and for a group, tries to unite and make friends with all the children in the class, although we are all so different.
And so, day after day, almost the first quarter of my first grade passed. The holidays are coming, but I will miss my teacher, because being a real teacher is a talent.
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For students, learning is light,
and for teachers, lecturers and
teachers are also warm.
Konstantin Kushner
The teaching profession has always been considered very honorable and at the same time difficult. It is a great talent to find a common language with students and pass on your experience and knowledge to the younger generation. Everyone remembers the image of their first teacher, because it was he who taught us the most important things: to write, read, communicate with children and adults, and overcome difficulties.
But the first teacher is also the main person: the one from whom you want to take an example, before whom you want to bow your head. And this is not necessarily an elementary school teacher. In my opinion, the teacher who gives his whole soul to children has an excellent command of the subject of teaching, and is a Teacher with a capital T.
In my life, the first real teacher is English teacher Tatyana Mikhailovna Kaigorodova. She has been teaching us this amazing subject since the fourth grade. From the first day we met, she charmed me as a person with her charm and kindness. For the sixth year now she has been teaching me and my classmates a foreign language. Each of her lessons is unique and different from the previous one. In one lesson we read English poems, in another we sing English songs, and we all travel around the world of the English language. At every lesson we visit the cities of England and study the customs of the people. I want these trips to be endless...
To be a good teacher, you need to love what you teach and love those you teach. Tatyana Mikhailovna is exactly such a teacher - a talented teacher who knows English perfectly, knows how to captivate, and respects the personality of each student.
I go to every lesson with great desire, because I know that today will be interesting, that today our teacher will surprise us with something.
We are engaged in project activities. Tatyana Mikhailovna so skillfully organizes the process of defending projects that we want to do them again and again, not only to perform in front of our classmates, but also to grow in the eyes of the teacher. And how interesting competitions can be in the classroom! No one is left without attention and a well-deserved prize.
Tatyana Mikhailovna has no favorites, she treats everyone equally, and this is how she earned the respect of the guys. She understands everyone and supports everyone. In our class, everyone feels free in her lessons and no one feels out of place. It instills in us a sense of confidence, teaches us to achieve our goals and deal with difficulties. She teaches us to love and respect each other.
Tatyana Mikhailovna is a very erudite and creative person. She writes beautiful poems in English and Russian. I am proud that she is the author of the words of the gymnasium anthem.
He is also a very impressionable and vulnerable person who subtly perceives the world around him. Tatyana Mikhailovna is very kind and charming. Her large and wise eyes speak of the depth of her soul, her soft facial features speak of the gentleness of her character. It is very pleasant to communicate with her even outside of school hours. She will always listen, support and give the necessary advice. This is a very tactful person. I am sure that the lines of V. Tushnov’s poem are dedicated to my beloved teacher:
... You say to the weakest: “Hold on!”
You are ready to help them with all your heart...
And again someone's little life
It becomes big in your hands...
I tried to draw a portrait of my first Teacher and I hope that I succeeded. Come to our gymnasium and you will be able to meet this wonderful person who gives his whole soul to children! And I am proud to know this wonderful teacher!
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In the city of Kalachinsk there is a wonderful Gymnasium No. 1, where my friends and I study. Gymnasium is not only a place where we gain new knowledge, but also a place where we make new friends. Every person remembers his first day at the Gymnasium. This day is the first of September. An exciting, festive, beautiful day. It was from that day that I realized that “Gymnasium” is an interesting, exciting journey in the world of knowledge. Since then, every day at the Gymnasium is unique for me. In every lesson I learn more and more new and interesting things.
I study in 1st "A" class, and, in my opinion, our class is the best, the most capable. Our class teacher's name is Natalya Alekseevna! She is a very good person with a kind heart and is able to find an approach to every student. Natalya Alekseevna teaches us to be polite and responsive; in every lesson she puts most of her soul into us. Also, our class teacher organizes various entertainment events for us, for example, dedicated to Autumn Day, Birthday Day, and we often visit various exhibitions and clubs. We are very interested in her! Without knowledge, a person cannot live today in any country in the world. An educated person is valued anywhere on Earth. Therefore, our teachers help each child learn new material not only for good grades, but also for quality knowledge!
Our teacher needs to be loved and respected, because every day she gives us goodness and teaches us beautiful things!
My dear, Ekaterina Mikhailovna
In the first grade I had to go to the Great Russian Secondary School. My mother and older brothers studied at this school. I was very worried, thinking about how my teacher would treat me, whether I would find friends, whether I would like this school, how my studies would turn out???
My doubts were dispelled on the first day. The meeting with the teacher, Ekaterina Mikhailovna Kapochkina, and the guys with whom I was to study was a success! The first day was a day of joy, smiles, flowers. I was happy to have such a teacher: caring, attentive.
Ekaterina Mikhailovna became a second mother for me. She was always kind and fair. Ekaterina Mikhailovna worked in an office with two classes and taught us to be attentive, care and help each other. She could teach the most “unlucky” student. There was always a warm atmosphere in the class. We had fun classes and events. The lessons were interesting and memorable. Every day was bright, full of new discoveries and achievements. I and all the guys in our class fell in love with Ekaterina Mikhailovna.
There will be many more different teachers in my life who will leave very kind and good memories of themselves. I will try to respect and appreciate them. And I will always remember Ekaterina Mikhailovna. She left the brightest “mark” in my life, the most pleasant memories! I will be grateful to her all my life!!!
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M 
oh first teacher - Fokina Galina Vladimirovna. I remember first grade. At that time, all primary classes studied in the building of kindergarten No. 5. Galina Vladimirovna taught first-graders the Russian language, literature and mathematics.
I remember my first teacher, because it was he who began to shape me as a person. Galina Vladimirovna was very kind and fair. I appreciated not only the pedagogical skill of my teacher, but also his human qualities: calmness, prudence, love for children. Unfortunately, now we don’t see her often, but if we meet in the spacious corridors of the gymnasium, she, as always, will hug me and gently ask: “How are you doing?” For me, such attention and support are very valuable.
I want to meet with my first teacher more often, because only now I understand how much work and patience was invested in each of us. I am sure that I will always remember the lessons of Galina Vladimirovna, in which we learned to value friendship, appreciate love and understanding from others, and distinguish between good and evil. You will not find such knowledge in any textbook; it is passed on to you by a wise mentor. That’s why the first years of school are especially precious and remain in our memory forever.
Now I understand the importance of the teaching profession. I know that being a teacher is very difficult, that it is a lot of work and responsibility, because my mother also taught elementary grades, taught them the first lessons of life.
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If you want to train your student's mind,
you educate the forces that he must control.
Exercise his body constantly;
make him healthy and strong...
let him be a man of strength,
and soon he will become one according to his mind...
J.J. Rousseau
Just recently I was going through old things and came across my school children's diary. Pictures of the past, experienced feelings, old emotions began to emerge in my memory. I accidentally came across an entry for September 1, 2003: “Today my mother took me to a building that was unfamiliar to me. This was my school. The school was decorated, music was playing, many happy and joyful faces were met, future first-graders were getting acquainted with the school. I thought that it was very reminiscent of a kindergarten, only instead of educators there were teachers, and small groups were replaced by spacious classrooms.”
Rereading my childhood notes, I understand that at that time I was not able to fully convey and express all the feelings that filled my heart, although the memories of my first school days, my classmates and my first teacher are still alive. I clearly remember how at the festive assembly the director announced that the class teacher of class 1A would be Natalya Anatolyevna. Following thunderous applause, a very beautiful, fragile, little girl came out to meet us. She moved gracefully and proudly. Her shining eyes and radiant smile made us feel warmer and more joyful on this cloudy autumn day. We, Natalya Anatolyevna’s new students, rushed to congratulate our teacher, and all the bouquets that day were intended only for her. Tears of joy flashed in the happy eyes of the young teacher, and we were proud that already on the first day we were able to win the trust and love of Natalya Anatolyevna.
My first teacher-mentor had a huge influence on the formation of my worldview, my interests and inclinations. After all, my teacher is a very versatile person, highly educated, a creative and interesting person. Natalya Anatolyevna ensured that our class became the most united, we have always been distinguished by high academic success.
We were childishly proud of our teacher, because, despite her youth and short work experience, Natalya Anatolyevna enjoyed great respect from her colleagues, her opinion was always listened to. The whole class took care of her reputation, strengthened her authority by participating in competitions, olympiads, and competitions. Now we can fully appreciate everything that Natalya Anatolyevna has done for us.
Even though time is fleeting, it moves inexorably forward, only truly sincere moments will never be forgotten, we will always remember our happy school years and those who were always with us - our teachers.
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Just thinking about us,
You live with one concern:
To succeed in life as an adult
We could go everywhere without any problems!
We all know how difficult it is
And thank you very much!
Many beautiful and kind words have been said about the teacher and about his school years. But we turn our kindest thoughts and words to the first teacher. The first teacher is the beginning of our school life, this is the first breath of school, the first victories and the first failures, the first ups and the first downs. The first teacher and his kids went through everything. And no matter what happens to the little man who first crossed the school threshold, the first teacher is always there and always rushes to help.
My first teacher, Margarita Petrovna Chernyavskaya, was and is exactly such a teacher. This name and this patronymic will remain in my memory forever. And not without reason, because how many times did these simple two words “Margarita Petrovna” fly from my lips during the four years of elementary school? I said them in joy and in sorrow, with a smile and with tears, but I always knew that she - my first teacher Margarita Petrovna - would always help me, caress me, support me, warm me. The first teacher is like a mother: with her gentle hands she was able to disperse any clouds, dispel any doubts and dry children's tears.
For me, Margarita Petrovna is the ideal teacher. She is a magnificent woman: kind, affectionate, wise, intelligent and very beautiful. I am already in seventh grade, but I still love and respect Margarita Petrovna very much. No teacher can replace her. I miss my first teacher and sometimes go to visit her. Now she has other kids, but she will always find a free minute to talk a little and be confidential with me, as happened several years ago.
Margarita Petrovna’s lessons were always interesting; she could captivate us so much with the material being studied that we all listened to her with bated breath. Of course, we were very small, but it’s even more difficult to teach small and naughty children.
There were so many memorable lessons. They are still in my memory. I remember gestures and facial expressions, I remember favorite phrases and movements with which Margarita Petrovna explained new material to us. I remember the charm and humor with which Margarita Petrovna was filled. I remember her kind smile and eyes that strictly watched the little naughty girls.
I’ll probably reveal a little secret and maybe I’ll upset Margarita Petrovna a little, but the most pleasant moments were not the lessons, but those hours when my friends and I stayed after classes. This is where all the fun began. We kept it secret, told Margarita Petrovna everything that worried and concerned us, helped check notebooks and diaries. At these moments we learned a lot of interesting things about Margarita Petrovna, we recognized her not as a teacher, but as a simple woman, mother, wife, daughter. It seems to me that she also trusted us with her little secrets, shared her sorrows and joys with us.
The warmth that she so generously gave to us does not leave me even now. I think that my classmates quite agree with me. Love, patience, understanding, affection, care - there are countless qualities, and there are probably no words in our language that can fully and comprehensively describe what a Teacher with a capital T is. And I am deeply convinced that our Margarita Petrovna is a Teacher with a capital T! The respect this man inspires in me knows no bounds. The fire that Margarita Petrovna lit in my soul will flare up and shine brightly throughout my life, helping me overcome difficult situations. Thank you and bow to you to the ground, dear Margarita Petrovna!
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My first teacher
Each of us has our first teacher in life. There are different types of teachers: good and cool! Some people perceive their first teacher as a school teacher, but this is not entirely true. I will now explain why I think so.
I consider my parents to be my first teachers, because they taught me the most important thing - to be kind. What if they hadn’t taught me this? Then it would have been more difficult for my first teachers at school to work with me. In addition, my parents taught me many other things: walking, talking, reading, drawing. I am very grateful to my parents, but we also must not forget about the first teacher at school.
Valentina Dmitrievna Serova became this person for me! I remember how I learned her name after learning that she would be my first teacher at school. And it was like that. There is a “Valentina” store near our house, and my full name is Dmitry. So it turns out - Valentina Dmitrievna. In this way I quickly remembered the name of my teacher. She was kind. She taught me, and my entire class, a lot: to make friends, communicate with each other, write accurately, count. A year and a half later, Valentina Dmitrievna moved to another job, and Tatyana Alekseevna Razumova became my teacher.
I remember Tatyana Alekseevna more because she taught my lessons until the fourth grade.
Tatyana Alekseevna is a demanding and fair teacher. She is a friendly person and treated each of us with respect. Tatyana Alekseevna managed to instill in me a love of mathematics. Her lessons were clear and interesting. She taught the kids and me different rules of the Russian language and mathematics. Tatyana Alekseevna is a good teacher!
It so happened that about many people I can say that this is my first teacher.
Now do you understand why, when talking about the first teacher, you need to clarify whether this is the first school teacher or the first teacher in life?
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My first teacher
The child remembers his first teacher for the rest of his life. It is thanks to him that we learn the most important things - to write, read, listen, explain. We learn this already in elementary school, but only as we grow up do we understand the full meaning of what we have learned.
My first real teacher was Tatyana Alekseevna Razumova. She taught my class 6 years ago. Tatyana Alekseevna always explained topics simply and clearly, and skillfully maintained discipline in the class, which not all teachers succeed in doing. If I had a question, I approached her before or after the lesson, and Tatyana Alekseevna patiently explained what I could not understand.
In the fall, I got sick and missed half of the second quarter. When I returned to school, it was very difficult for me to learn all the material I had missed. I was afraid that in the quarter I would have a lot of threes. Sometimes after classes I stayed at school, and Tatyana Alekseevna explained to me the material I had missed and assigned additional exercises and paragraphs for homework. I tried very hard and diligently did what the teacher asked. As a result, I only got a C in math, which I didn’t understand well at the time. I had good grades in other subjects, largely thanks to my efforts and such a wonderful teacher as Tatyana Alekseevna. She still teaches elementary school children to read and write. I am grateful to her for the knowledge I received.
Our Gymnasium can be proud of such teachers.
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My first teacher
From early childhood I was an inquisitive child. I constantly asked one of the adults to read a book to me. And my mother decided that I needed to learn to read on my own. So, at the age of seven I already knew how to read on my own. It's time to get ready for school, first grade.
Finally, the first of September. All the children came to school beautiful, dressed up, and a little scared. We were greeted by our first teacher. She introduced herself to us - Olga Igorevna Suftina. I still remember my first impression of meeting her. It seemed that her gaze was directed at each of us individually, but at the same time she saw the whole class at once. In those few minutes when Olga Igorevna silently, with a barely noticeable smile, looked at us, there was a feeling that she managed to penetrate the soul of each student, study his character, hear his thoughts. Everyone involuntarily became silent. Her voice sounded clear and loud. That's how I met my first teacher. My mother’s fears that I would not be interested in school were not confirmed, because Olga Igorevna’s lessons were interesting and exciting. And every day I learned something new and useful for myself. I was not bored in the lessons because Olga Igorevna always found interesting and more difficult tasks for those who had already understood the new material. She turned a simple school lesson on learning about the world into a whole journey into the natural world. In mathematics lessons, she taught us not just to solve, but to think logically. After all, this will be so useful in high school. Russian language and literature were truly lessons in developing the culture of speech and language. Olga Igorevna has always been a serious teacher, strict and fair. But during breaks and after classes, she lived the life of the students: our worries, sorrows, our children's problems. She could understand everyone. And she tried to help everyone. Class hours became a real holiday for us, no matter what the conversation was about. Olga Igorevna taught us to live in a team, tried to unite and make friends with all the children in the class.
So four and a half years of schooling flew by unnoticed. But we remember and do not forget about her. With my excellent studies, I confirm all the knowledge that she invested in me. And I want Olga Igorevna to be proud of me. I don’t forget her, and I maintain good relations with Olga Igorevna. Although I have now moved to live in Russia, I still call her and congratulate her on the holidays.
Being a real teacher is a talent. After all, a teacher must be able to convey his experience and knowledge to children. Probably every teacher wants his student to achieve success in the future. And, of course, every teacher is pleased when this happens. But the most important joy for a teacher is the gratitude of his students. I want to say a huge thank you to Olga Igorevna Suftina for everything she did for us, for the fact that she spared no effort and time, patiently and persistently put into our little children’s heads the knowledge that will always be useful to us in life.
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Autumn. The first of September is the day when school doors across the country hospitably open and millions of students enter spacious, bright classrooms.
I am dressed up, with a huge bouquet of flowers in my hands, going to school with my mother. I’m a little scared, I’m squeezing my mother’s hand tightly, but I’m curious.
Dressed schoolchildren walked past us in flocks, in a chain. The first-graders were accompanied by mothers, fathers, and grandmothers. We're in the yard. The schoolyard was noisy, voices and exclamations were heard, only first-graders timidly huddled close to their mothers, everything was new and unusual for them. After the ceremonial assembly, the first bell rang for those who had just sat down at the school desk.
We were led into the classroom by Valentina Gennadievna Kozyakova, my first teacher, who led us along the steps of knowledge from first to fourth grade. I liked her right away. She was beautiful, kind, her eyes shone, but most of all I liked her smile. The fears disappeared.
School days passed by. I now understand how much patience and love Valentina Gennadievna invested in each of us. How many times did she have to show and explain to us when a letter or number did not work out, the letters did not form into syllables, and the syllables into words. She rejoiced at our every victory and always said: “What a great fellow you are!” I wrote letters, wrote numbers, and read. And for me there was no smarter person in the world than my teacher.
Valentina Gennadievna taught not only school subjects, she taught to love and take care of nature, respect elders, and help younger ones.
How many amazing matinees and holidays were held! Trips to the circus in Omsk, trips to Lake Chernenkoe, and sports competitions left unforgettable impressions. And our Valentina Gennadievna was with us everywhere. She sincerely rejoiced at our victories, and was upset with us if we lost.
Our teacher is also a wonderful needlewoman. She taught us to sew, knit, and embroider. And then the farewell evening came, we graduated from fourth grade. It was joyful and sad, we understood that we would not be greeted warmly every day by our Valentina Gennadievna, tears glistened in the girls’ eyes. We all told our first teacher thank you for your affection and kindness and knowledge.
We all loved our teacher for her humanity, kindness, and motherly care for us. We happily ran to school, where Valentina Gennadievna was waiting for us, and together with her we went into the world of knowledge, into a fascinating and endless world. Thank you, our beloved first teacher, for everything you have invested in us.
Our dear teacher,
We really want you to know
What roads there were for us!
Your heartfelt conversations...
Forgive us... After all, sometimes
We are such fidgets!
The first teacher is not only the one who gave you your first knowledge, but also the one who instilled in you a love for school and learning. This man plays a big role in everyone's destiny, and we should be grateful to him for everything he did for us.
I remember the first time I went to school. His eyes were drooping from lack of sleep, a heavy backpack weighed down his shoulders, and large white bows adorned his head. Walking around in uniform was terribly uncomfortable, I had difficulty standing on the line, and I wanted to give a beautiful bouquet of flowers to someone. “I won’t come to this strange, scary place again,” I thought about school then. I didn’t want to get up every day at six in the morning, much less study.
That day I met her - Maria Alekseevna. She was to become our first teacher, the class teacher of grade 1 “B”. To be honest, at first glance I didn’t like her. I looked at her and thought that I had never seen a nastier and angrier person. But as often happens with children, my first impression was false. Maria Alekseevna turned out to be a kind and sympathetic woman. She loved children very much and really tried to teach us something, and didn’t do it for show. She never shouted, tried to explain the material clearly, and conducted warm-ups, games and open lessons with us.
The first knowledge was difficult for me, I didn’t want to learn, I didn’t have any motivation. But Maria Alekseevna was not angry, she calmly explained the topic to the class, and then explained the points I did not understand. With her help, I gained my first knowledge, first A's, and, most importantly, a desire to learn. It was only thanks to Maria Alekseevna that I went to school with pleasure, which I still do to this day. Lessons are no longer a problem for me, I grasp all the material on the fly, without a word. Words cannot express how grateful I am to this woman who managed to interest me and teach me to study.
What is my opinion about the first teachers? I think that they play a big role in our lives, if not the main one. First teachers are an important stage of growing up that needs to be respected.
Essay on the topic My first teacher
I remember that when I had not yet gone to school, I was very afraid who my teacher would be. After all, this is exactly the person you need to listen to. Mom was also very worried about what my first teacher would be like. We were waiting for this day when we would see him and be able to finally meet him in person.
And here it is, the day has come. The first of September - everyone is beautiful and smiling everywhere. It’s very exciting to stand waiting and even a little scary. And not even because there are a lot of unfamiliar faces around me. It was just important for me to see the teacher and get to know him. And finally, the moment has come. I see him, my first teacher.
A radiant smile and kind eyes. Our acquaintance went well, we all got to know each other and were told about what awaited us. The first impression of him was positive. The teacher's tone was calm and pleasant, which did not carry any negativity. In the following school days, I wanted to talk more with the teacher, ask something or tell something. But my embarrassment and fear came first. On a certain day, I don’t remember what happened, but then I was sitting at my desk alone, and the teacher came up to me. This is an incredible person who helped lift my spirits and support me in a certain situation. I have never felt as much kindness and warmth as from him from anyone else.
I will always remember my first teacher. I will not forget how I waited with trepidation and excitement for his arrival. With a smile on my face, I remember how afraid I was to talk to him for the first time, or to ask him something. In fact, he was a very friendly person who would never refuse and would understand at a glance. Of course, he also knew how to get angry. But this is entirely our fault. Memories of him are only positive and I am glad that I came across just such a teacher.
1st, 2nd, 4th, 5th, 6th, 11th grade
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