of the diary. He suddenly wished that he were meeting this woman for the first time, without any prior knowledge. Ignorance, in this case, would have been a defense against bias. Unwittingly, Petr Selivanov, whose photograph was nowhere to be seen in the flat, had made Sasha an ally in his struggle with the selfish, undoubtedly wise, Galina. From her first words, he recognized her analytical intelligence, which she skillfully used to effect her own purposes.
“The government settlement I expected,” she said, “but the belated condolence call suggests there is more here than meets the eye. Whom do you represent? Your letter says the OGPU. Are you a policeman? If so, I must confess: I never heard Petr mention your name.”
Sasha could feign a friendship that never existed between him and Petr, but the pretense would leave him open to questions about Petr that he couldn’t answer, even though he had studied Petr’s files and diary. Better, he decided, to represent himself on grounds he could actually defend.
“I have been appointed the director of a secondary school,” he said honestly, “and we will . . .” Suddenly unbidden words tumbled out of his mouth, “. . . need a nurse, as well as someone who can teach Russian grammar and French literature—for the spring term.”
Although he had made her an offer of employment that he’d never intended, he felt perfectly satisfied, and he knew that his posture expressed the same ease. He then told her about the school, which he had recently visited for a fortnight, meeting the teachers, hearing their concerns, discussing the curriculum, outlining his plans to focus on science and letters and to improve academic standards. In preparation for the visit, he had read about the history of the school and knew the records of all the teachers on staff. It had once been devoted to agriculture, hence the farmhouse and stables nearby. But after farms were collectivized, the school slowly evolved from its original mission toward becoming an institution dedicated to educating future managers, engineers, and, yes, Soviet commissars. In short, the students were to be trained as leaders.
But in the neighboring villages, where superstition and religion still governed family life, learning was treated suspiciously. By inducing some of the local children to enroll, he hoped to persuade the locals to value schooling.
“But what will happen,” Galina asked, “when science and religion clash, and when children learn to read? Won’t the illiterate parents complain?”
He admitted that the question of whom to admit and whom to exclude would be a problem. But Galina anticipated another.
“What if a great many villagers feel their children should be enrolled, what then? After all, they’ll say, Ivan down the road was accepted, and he is no smarter or not much smarter than my own Ivan.” Sasha had to agree—no fool, she—but he remained optimistic that he could raise the school’s academic standards. In fact, even before meeting with his teaching staff, he had decided against “leveling,” the Soviet means of treating all children equally.
Galina studied him for a moment and came to the conclusion that the OGPU, no doubt for perfidious purposes, had decided to use its gravitational pull to bring her into their orbit. It therefore made perfect sense that Sasha, a newly appointed school director, would be the bearer of the good news. As much as she liked working in a hospital, she found little occasion to exercise her critical mind. The doctors gave the orders, and the nurses carried them out. She took the box of candy, expressed her appreciation, and offered him and Alya a chocolate-covered cherry.
Sasha waited until they had all savored the sweets before he approached Alya, who had begun to disengage the doll’s different levels. To enable him to look into the child’s eyes on an equal plain, he knelt and asked:
“Are you well behaved?”
“Oh yes,” she replied, her
“The government settlement I expected,” she said, “but the belated condolence call suggests there is more here than meets the eye. Whom do you represent? Your letter says the OGPU. Are you a policeman? If so, I must confess: I never heard Petr mention your name.”
Sasha could feign a friendship that never existed between him and Petr, but the pretense would leave him open to questions about Petr that he couldn’t answer, even though he had studied Petr’s files and diary. Better, he decided, to represent himself on grounds he could actually defend.
“I have been appointed the director of a secondary school,” he said honestly, “and we will . . .” Suddenly unbidden words tumbled out of his mouth, “. . . need a nurse, as well as someone who can teach Russian grammar and French literature—for the spring term.”
Although he had made her an offer of employment that he’d never intended, he felt perfectly satisfied, and he knew that his posture expressed the same ease. He then told her about the school, which he had recently visited for a fortnight, meeting the teachers, hearing their concerns, discussing the curriculum, outlining his plans to focus on science and letters and to improve academic standards. In preparation for the visit, he had read about the history of the school and knew the records of all the teachers on staff. It had once been devoted to agriculture, hence the farmhouse and stables nearby. But after farms were collectivized, the school slowly evolved from its original mission toward becoming an institution dedicated to educating future managers, engineers, and, yes, Soviet commissars. In short, the students were to be trained as leaders.
But in the neighboring villages, where superstition and religion still governed family life, learning was treated suspiciously. By inducing some of the local children to enroll, he hoped to persuade the locals to value schooling.
“But what will happen,” Galina asked, “when science and religion clash, and when children learn to read? Won’t the illiterate parents complain?”
He admitted that the question of whom to admit and whom to exclude would be a problem. But Galina anticipated another.
“What if a great many villagers feel their children should be enrolled, what then? After all, they’ll say, Ivan down the road was accepted, and he is no smarter or not much smarter than my own Ivan.” Sasha had to agree—no fool, she—but he remained optimistic that he could raise the school’s academic standards. In fact, even before meeting with his teaching staff, he had decided against “leveling,” the Soviet means of treating all children equally.
Galina studied him for a moment and came to the conclusion that the OGPU, no doubt for perfidious purposes, had decided to use its gravitational pull to bring her into their orbit. It therefore made perfect sense that Sasha, a newly appointed school director, would be the bearer of the good news. As much as she liked working in a hospital, she found little occasion to exercise her critical mind. The doctors gave the orders, and the nurses carried them out. She took the box of candy, expressed her appreciation, and offered him and Alya a chocolate-covered cherry.
Sasha waited until they had all savored the sweets before he approached Alya, who had begun to disengage the doll’s different levels. To enable him to look into the child’s eyes on an equal plain, he knelt and asked:
“Are you well behaved?”
“Oh yes,” she replied, her
Similar Books
