ESL Outstanding Students

ESL 540W with Frank Araujo

Lena Borisenko ESL 540W

How I Met My Best Friend

My best friend, Vera and I sometimes laugh when we remember how we met. It was an extraordinary episode in our life. It was many years ago, and we were little girls who came to school for the first time.

In my native country, Russia, schools start a new school year on September 1. Now hundreds of graceful dressed schoolgirls and neatly dressed schoolboys with colorful backpacks pack the schoolyards, the halls and classrooms, filling the air with young voices, music and recreating stories of their summer. Meanwhile, elegant dressed teachers sag under the weight of flowers received for the first day of school. Our first day of school was very difficult from that because it was September 1, 1944, the last war school year. Our country was almost destroyed, our fathers and older brothers were in the Soviet Army and battling against the German Nazis. Most of adults, our mothers and teachers, were badly dressed, and sad because they missed their husbands, sons and brothers, and were very tired from the hard work in factories or military plants. Most of children were dressed poorly, too. Their clothes were mainly old, black, and ugly. The students had a bag made of strong cloth for a notebook, a pen, a glass inkwell, and a piece of black bread for lunch. Some boys had old black briefcases those were left by their fathers or older brothers. I had felt very happy and proud of my new brown dress and a beautiful (in my mind) black raincoat and a bag that looked like a briefcase. Both my great things were decorated with bright red piping and the same color bottoms. They were great, however, and were made from plain black haircloth. I felt myself as if I should be a princess.

In the classroom we had a school desk for two children. Our teacher set me with a little girl to share the same desk. The girl was very nice with blond hair, very kind blue eyes, but her eyes kept starting at my beautiful bag; she even tried to touch it with her finger. I was on duty and blocked her way with my out-stretched arms. The girl did not let me have it and set her elbow against my arm. Then I nudged her by my elbow, and she responded to me by tugging at my hair. I once cried out but did not budge form my position and pushed her away from her place. She fell down, and we both were punished for it by our teacher. We glared each against other and did not want to share our desk again. Our teacher talked to us for a long time about friendship and good behavior, and gave us messages to our mothers. Of course, I was punished at home, too.

In the evening of next day after that, my classmate, Vera, came to my home with her mother. Both mothers told us about friendship, too, and about the bad time for everyone now. I cried when my mother said that it would be big trouble for my father to know about my bad behavior at my school because he was glad that his daughter had become a schoolgirl, and he hoped that I would be good there. Then our mothers talked about the war, the hope for victory, and their relatives who would come backing their families. At that time Vera and I were looking at each other. We stopped being angry because to be friends was much better.

Vera and her family turned out to be very interesting people. She already could read and write a little, but, best of all, she could sing and knew a lot of songs. Her family was from Moldova. There were three daughters more beside Vera-twelve, six and two years old. Vera often told me about their great country with her love. Everybody in her family loved Moldovian mountains covered with pine forests and numerous green vineyards, deep cold blue lakes, and small, calm towns with hard working people who can work and celebrate with music and songs. Vera’s father played the accordion and taught his oldest daughter to play it, too. Their mother had a very nice voice and knew many Moldovian and Russian songs, but when Vera told me about Moldova, she looked with tears into her eyes. But sometimes they sang songs even Vera’s baby-sister. I liked to listen to them. It was an unforgettable time in our life.

So, we grew up, were good students and friends. We had whole common ground and often shared our girl’s secrets. Our fathers did not come back from that war, and our mothers became widows. After we graduated from school, we worked and our mothers helped us with our children.

Our life continued as did our friendship, however, we live on different side of the same ocean. We often write letters to each other and for long time talk by phone even sing our lovely songs. Our friendship are checked by hard and happy years of our life, and that little girl from my past became my best friend forever.

* Subject’s name was changed to “Vera” for privacy