A Visit to a Ukrainian School for

OrphanED AND NEGLECTED CHILDREN

May 17, 2003

 

Last Thursday, May 8, I gave a seminar on teaching American holidays to a group of schoolteachers who were attending a two-week training course for teacher recertification. One teacher from that group, Halina, asked me if I would come to her school to speak with the students.  These weren’t just any students, though. These students were orphans or children who come from “bad homes” and whose relatives can’t or won’t care for them.  She wanted them to meet an American and have a chance to practice their English in order to motivate them to study English.  I told her it was an honor for me as well, since I had a certain image in my head of what Ukrainian orphanages look like (thank you “48 Hours” and my former co-worker who adopted a Russian child) and I wanted to know if my image matched the reality.  Of course I also felt a sense of sympathy, and wanted to do something charitable for them.  But I was conscious of the fact that if I really wanted to help them, I had to treat them like regular school children and not like charity cases or children who needed their self-esteem raised. 

 

First Impression of the Village and the School

 

Halina had insisted on coming to Khmelnytsky at 8 a.m. to meet me even though it’s a one-and-a-half hour journey between the village and Khmlenytsky.  I was glad she did though—I had never taken an elektrichka (a kind of regional rail service that runs on electricity), and although I knew where the station was I never would have figured out which train to take.  Even if I had known which train, I never would have figured out which platform to wait on or which station to get off at because nothing is marked. 

 

Anyway, together we made our way to the village of Vovcovintsy, got off and began walking to the boarding school.  Halina said it would be a 1-2 kilometer walk, but it didn’t feel that far.  Part of the road we walked was paved, but most of the time we walked on a dirt road with lots of evidence that horses had traveled the path before us, if you know what I mean.  In addition to horses, we saw sheep and goats and cows. 

 

As we walked, Halina told me about the school.  It used to be a military base but was converted into a school.  She talked a lot about the school’s apple garden (her word for orchard) and about the agricultural work the students do at the school.  She also expressed concern that the students would be afraid to speak to me.  I felt confident that I could draw them out, though.

 

Soon we arrived at the school grounds.  I saw two playgrounds and flower beds that were planted and tended by the students.  I saw a brick building which was the building for “senior and middle-aged” (senior high and middle school) students.  When we walked inside, I noticed that compared with other Ukrainian schools I’ve seen, it looked pretty normal. The floor was wooden and painted a rusty color. The walls had colorful posters and murals of Ukrainian costumes, people, and landscapes.  We went into the English language classroom.  Halina had made some posters about America and about the English language that covered the room.  There was a big blackboard (unscratched) and chalk.  Halina showed me some notes she had on American holidays.  The information looked like stuff that would come right out of my own mouth.  Clearly I didn’t need to provide methodology support here.

 

Halina said the students were at lunch, the second of four meals they get each day:  Breakfast is served at 8, lunch at 11, dinner at 2, and supper at 7 or 8 in the evening.  Halina and I stayed in the classroom for a while.  As we chatted, the students started to come into the school from lunch.  A few of the younger students stared from a distance outside the classroom door.  One girl came in and said “hello” in Russian. I said “hello” in English, and she was dumbfounded.  Actually, I want to say she was stricken with dumbfoundedness to emphasize how the shock seemed to immobilize her.

 

Other students came into the room and at Halina’s insistence they asked me my name and introduced themselves.  The conversation didn’t progress beyond that.  Another student came into the room and brought me two frosted soft cookies.  I thought that was very kind.  When the first lesson began, a student brought me a flower which turned out to be lily of the valley.  It had beautiful white flowers and a scent good enough to be perfume. 

 

The Lessons

 

The first students I had a lesson with were in the 5th and 6th forms (grades).  I asked them their names, and then asked them to ask me questions about families and housing.  They were very shy at first.  And it was difficult for them to understand me.  Halina and Igor (a 3rd year student at the pedagogical university in Vinnitsia who was home for the weekend) had to translate a lot of what I said, and tell them how to say their questions in English. 

 

Eventually one student asked if I had a family.  (Many students at the school have never had a family).  I said I did.  They asked the names of the people in my family.  One student, Maxim, only knew how to ask one’s age, so he asked how old every person in my family was.  Halina laughed but I thought it was great that he was so active.  When the students ran out of questions (which happened quickly), I asked them to tell me what was in their room, and what they see when they look out of the window of their room.  Since that involves giving only a one-word answer, the students were eager to speak, and anxiously raised their hands to answer the question.  Their rooms seemed normal—a TV, a desk, a chair, a bed, some pictures, boxes of toys, a wardrobe.  The main difference is that they have anywhere from 1-6 beds in a room, and occasionally they see foxes outside their window because they are near the forest. 

 

I ended by teaching them the song “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”, which turned out to be harder than I thought for the students.  “Up above the world so high” is a particularly difficult line to say.  But by the end they could sing it pretty well. 

 

With the “middle group” (7-8 graders), I was supposed to talk about the working day (daily routine) and sport (sports).  When they didn’t ask questions, I asked them what sports they like to play, and I asked them about their school schedule.  Then I taught them the “Hokey Pokey”.  The students had a hard time with that song at first, but eventually they got the hang of it.  Igor thought it was a good technique for teaching children, and he made some notes.

 

The final group was the senior students.  Some of the students in the group had attended the previous lesson because they wanted a double chance to hear me speak.  One was getting ready to enter Technological University, Podillya in the fall.  Orphans get their education paid for by the government.  Working with the senior group was most like my work with university students in Ukraine.  The students were studying national symbols of America.  I asked them to explain in English the national symbols of Ukraine.  They eagerly shared their symbols, and we talked about the equivalents in America.  When we got to the subject of a national anthem, I sang the “Star Spangled Banner” for them.  One student, Rustan, immediately jumped to the front of the class to sing the Ukrainian anthem.  The anthem has the grudgingly optimistic title, “Ukraine is Not Yet Dead”.  Rustan sang it with great feeling. I could hear in his voice the pride he felt for Ukraine.  On top of that, his voice was amazing. I told him in 10 years I wanted to see his name in an opera program. He said it was impossible.  “Why?” I asked him, thinking he was displaying a typical example of Ukrainian can’t-do mentality.  “Because I plan to be a doctor”, he replied. 

 

Lunch and School Tour

 

After the third class of the day, Halina took me with the vice-headmaster and the headmaster’s wife (the headmaster was out of town) to the dining hall for lunch. We didn’t sit with the students, but sat in a private room. I noticed the bathroom next to the private room had a sit-down toilet, but I’m not sure it worked because Halina took me down the hall to the kitchen to wash my hands.  I’m not sure if it was in my honor or not, but they offered me a fresh bar of soap. 

 

Lunch consisted of shredded cabbage salad, fried potatoes, smoked fish, meat with pasta (which was actually pretty good) and the obligatory wine (a Muscat that was actually pretty good). 

 

After lunch, Halina and the headmaster’s wife took me on a tour of the school grounds.  We saw the children’s dining room, which looked like a typical Ukrainian cafeteria.  They pointed out the workshop where students do woodworking and other crafts.  We saw a group of students walking up the hill and Halina said they were coming from the bathroom.  Thinking of the word in the American sense and having seen the outhouses at the school in Kazatin, I thought she was referring to outhouses.  This was not the case, however.  The students were coming from the room where they take their bath and change clothes. Each child gets a bath and fresh clothes once a week, either on Thursday, Friday, or Saturday.  Suddenly the school was fitting my “48 Hours” image.  It didn’t help that some of the children were wearing cutoff jeans, clothes with holes in them, and totally mismatched outfits (a striped shirt with a printed skirt, for example).  Some of the clothes looked pretty dirty. 

 

The images got worse when we went into the building where the younger grades study.  We went into the classroom of one group of 7-8 year old students where an American had recently come and adopted a child.  Some of them were so tiny they looked like they were 4 or 5 years old.  One student stared at me with eyes so blank I couldn’t bear it.  I found myself wondering, were they wondering if I was studying them and looking for someone to take home?  How many times had these children seen potential parents come into the classroom?  How many times had they not been chosen to go to a family?  How do they deal with that psychologically at such a tender age? 

 

We got out of there and started walking towards the dormitories.  It turned out the TV and desks are in a common room shared by several children. The bedrooms looked fairly normal by Ukrainian standards—same wooden cabinets and rug-like bedspreads.  The difference was that the beds were packed in along the sides of the walls. The room I saw had 7 little beds in it back-to-back around three sides of the room.  There was still room on the floor for a kid to play with Matchbox miniature cars though.  I didn’t see it, but Halina said that the senior students have sinks in their room to wash out their clothes and things.

 

We went back outside and across the street to the medicine room (infirmary). Again, by Ukrainian standards the nurse’s office looked pretty decent.  The rooms and beds looked better than the hospital I had seen in Kharkiv last year. 

 

We continued making the rounds of the grounds and I saw children playing with toys and balls, and a group playing a game of soccer. I saw kids climbing up poles like monkeys, just as my friends and I had done in childhood. 

 

Wind-up

 

Halina and I walked back to the first school building.  We saw the school library.  We saw the electronics room, which was a room with several computers, two Lexmark computers, a TV and VCR, and a set of historical electronics equipment.  As Halina pointed out, it’s not as nice as electronics rooms in fancy schools in big cities, but for a village school it was pretty good.  Halina said it is her dream to set up a language lab with tapes and headphones for the students.

 

We went downstairs and had coffee and soft cookies.  I said I liked them a lot, so Halina bagged them up for me.  I said I didn’t want to take cookies out of the children’s mouths, but she insisted.  The room we had coffee in had woodwork by the children.  The detail and quality were near to that of artisans I have seen in Odessa. I asked if she has ever thought of having children sell their woodwork to raise money for things. She said no; they usually present the woodwork as gifts. 

 

Post-Visit Impressions

 

On the train ride back, Helina again accompanied me. Her brother lives in Khmelnytsky, so she planned to spend the night and do some shopping at the bazaar in the morning.  She asked me what my impressions were of the school.  Usually when I’m asked such questions by Ukrainians, I emphasize the positives about my experience and hide the negatives that I usually report to other Americans on the phone or through my Web site. But I felt like I had found a confidant in Helina, someone I could easily chat with. And I wanted to make sure I got the story right about the school.

 

There was one girl in the second group who seemed unusually short and skinny.  I got the sense that she had been undernourished and would never catch up. But the school gave the children four meals a day.  So I thought the lack of nourishment must have come from the orphanage for children under 5, the type of place I had seen on “48 Hours”.  I asked Helina about her.  Helina emphasized that the undernourishment came from her original home.  The girl, along with her brothers and sisters, had been locked in a room for 3-4 days at a time by her mother with no food or water.  I can’t even believe she survived that. And I can’t believe any human being would do that to any child, let alone their own flesh and blood. It’s sheer madness. 

 

Helina told me about another child who had been brought to the school recently and was staying in the infirmary.  His mother had died a few months before, and his father was an alcoholic.  The militia (police) came and took the child from the home.  I asked how the militia knew to pick up the child; does somebody report behavior to the police (like we do in the States?).  She said simply that these children come from small towns where everybody knows everybody’s business, so everybody knows all the “bad families”.

 

Eventually, I worked up the nerve to ask about bathing.  To me (as I am sure it does to most people in developed countries), giving children a bath and clean clothes only once a week seems wrong.  I asked Helina, how often do regular families in a village take a bath?  She said in the summer they go to the lake and in the winter it depends on the hot water situation.  But generally people take a bath once, twice or “even” three times a week.  When the children who had parents were living at home, though, they got a bath far less, perhaps only once a month.  By comparison, once a week seems pretty good. 

 

All things considered, most of the children looked pretty happy.  They were exceptionally polite and well-behaved in the classroom.  The teachers and administrators seem to care a great deal about them. Halina says when she reads the backgrounds on the children, she breaks down and cries.  With so many trees and birds and bushes and the rolling green hills in the distance, I felt a tremendous sense of peace at the school.   It seems like a safe place to recover from the horrors they have faced in their life.

 

If you are interested in donating toys, or clothes in good condition (preferably that match) for school-age children (ages 5-17), you can send them to:

 

Tarchinska Halina

Vovcovintsy Boarding School (Vovcovintsy Shkola-Internat)

Derazhnya District

Khmelnytsky Region 32223

UKRAINE

 

I encourage you to include a letter about your life; it might be interesting for the children.  If you are a teacher, you might consider asking your students to write letters as a class project.

 

If you have a church, non-profit, or other organization that is interested in starting a fund or a collection of materials for a language lab, please email me at bridgetelf@yahoo.com.

 

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