Fear of the new teacher

⏱ ~4 min reading

Zakharko returned from school in silence. He didn't even go to the kitchen for a sandwich, as usual, but immediately went to his room and lay down on the bed, facing the wall. His mother looked in alarmed:

"What happened, son?"

"Tomorrow we'll have a new teacher," Zakharko grumbled. "Instead of Olena Stepanovna. Her mother got sick and she left. And instead of her - a certain Galina Ivanovna." And Nazar said that she was very strict. He also said that she never smiled. And that she had a voice like a principal's.

Mom sat on the edge of the bed.

— Have you seen her?

"No. But I don't want to see it. I'm not going to school tomorrow.".

Mom didn't say anything. She just patted Zakharka on the back and left.

In the evening, Zakharko couldn’t fall asleep for a long time. He imagined a new teacher. Tall. Black suit. Thin lips. Glasses through which you can see everything, even the fact that you haven’t done your homework. Her voice is low and a little harsh, like that of an aunt at the post office. “Zakharko,” she will say, “stand by the board. Zakharko, where is your notebook? Zakharko, why are you fidgeting again?”.

These imaginary words made Zakharko's stomach clench. It seemed to him that the new teacher had long since stopped loving him—before they had even met. How was that possible? But here it is. Zakharko was sure.

In the morning he trudged to school looking like someone going to a zoo where all the tigers had come out of their cages at the same time. He stopped near the classroom and looked around the corner. The door was ajar. Someone was walking inside.

Zakharko quietly, quietly took a step. And another. And looked in.

In the classroom, near the windowsill, stood a short woman in a dark blue dress. She held a watering can in her hands and carefully watered Elena Stepanovna's violets. Her hair was tied in a simple knot. On her nose were glasses, but not scary ones, but small ones with gold frames. She said nothing. She simply watered the flowers, quietly and very concentrated.

Then she put down the watering can, straightened one of the violets that had fallen on its side, and whispered something to it—Zakharko didn't hear, but it seemed to him that it was something like "hold on.".

The bell rang loudly, and Zakharko almost jumped. The woman turned around. She saw him. And her face suddenly came to life - the corners of her lips lifted, and her eyes behind the glasses became gentle, gentle, like a grandmother's when she meets her grandson from the train.

"You must be Zakharko," she said. "And I'm Galina Ivanovna. Come in, come in. I don't remember everyone's names yet, but I recognized you right away — Olena Stepanovna said you read everyone the fastest.".

Zakharko blinked. He definitely didn't expect this. Galina Ivanovna's voice was quiet and warm. Not at all like the aunt at the post office.

The lesson began. Galina Ivanovna did not shout. She spoke slowly, and when someone did not understand, she did not sigh or get angry, but simply repeated again. When Solomiyka accidentally knocked over the pencil case, Galina Ivanovna herself bent down and helped collect the felt-tip pens. “It’s okay,” she said, “it happens to everyone.”.

And when Zakharko failed one task, she came over, squatted down by his desk — to be at the same height as him — and quietly explained, tracing his notebook with a pencil:

"Look, there aren't three here, there are two. See? Now try again.".

Her hair smelled of chamomile. And her hands were warm.

During the break, Zakharko went out into the corridor and found Nazar.

“Listen,” he said, “why did you say she was strict?”

"Because my brother told me," Nazar shrugged. "And he's their brother. And we haven't seen her yet.".

Zakharko thought. And he realized two things. First, it turns out that Nazar had heard about the teacher firsthand. Second, the fear that lives in your head is much greater than the person standing in front of you.

After lessons, Galina Ivanovna said goodbye to everyone: “See you tomorrow, my good ones.” And Zakharko carried these “my good ones” all the way home, like something small and warm in his pocket.

In the evening, my mother asked:

"So, son? Is the new teacher strict?"

Zakharko thought for a long time.

"No," he finally said. "She's not strict. She's just quiet. And that's completely different. You know, Mom, I'll bring her an apple tomorrow. She likes violets, and violets like it when the classroom smells delicious.".

Mom smiled and kissed him on the top of his head. And Zakharko fell asleep quickly that evening. And he wasn't afraid of anyone new in advance.