"Pedagogical poem" Anton Makarenko. "Pedagogical poem" A.S.

1. Conversation with the head of the regional administration

In September 1920, the head of the provincial people's department summoned me to his office and said:
- That's what, brother, I heard you swear a lot there ... that's what your labor school was given this very thing ... provincial economic council ...
- Yes, how not to swear? Here you will not only scold - you will howl: what kind of labor school is there? Smokey, dirty! Does it look like a school?
- Yes ... For you, this would be the most: build a new building, put up new desks, then you would be engaged. It’s not in buildings, brother, it’s important to educate a new person, but you, teachers, sabotage everything: the building is not like that, and the tables are not like that. You don't have this very ... fire, you know, such a revolutionary one. Your pants are out!
- I'm just not out of the loop.
- Well, you're not out of the loop ... The intellectuals are lousy! They tell me: this is your business, the people's education organization... Well?
- And what - "well"?
- Yes, this is the same thing: no one wants, to whom I say - with their hands and feet, they will slaughter, they say. You should have this cabinet, books ... Put on your glasses ...
I laughed.
- Look, the glasses are already in the way!
- Well, I say, you should read everything, but if they give you a living person, then you, this is the most, will slaughter me a living person. Intellectuals!
The head of the regional administration angrily pricked me with his small black eyes and from under his Nietzsche mustache he spewed blasphemy against all our pedagogical brethren. But he was wrong, this head of the regional administration.
- Listen to me...
- Well, what "listen"? Well, what can you say? You will say: if only it were the same as in America! I recently read a little book on this occasion - slipped it. Reformers... or whatever, stop! Aha! Reformatoriums. Well, we don't have that yet. (Reformatoriums - institutions for the re-education of juvenile delinquents in some cap countries; children's prisons).
- No, you listen to me.
- Well, I'm listening.
- After all, even before the revolution, they coped with these tramps. There were colonies of juvenile delinquents ...
- It's not the same, you know... Before the revolution, it's not the same.
- Correctly. So, you need to make a new person in a new way.
- In a new way, you're right.
- Nobody knows how.
- And you don't know?
- And I don't know.
- But I have this very thing ... there are those in the provincial department who know ...
“But they don’t want to take over.”
- They don't want to, you bastards, you're right.
- And if I take it, they will kill me from the world. Whatever I do, they'll say it's wrong.
- The bitches will say, you're right.
- And you believe them, not me.
- I won’t believe them, I’ll say: it would be better to take it ourselves!
- Well, what if I really mess up?
The head of the regional administration slammed his fist on the table:
- Yes that you me: confuse, confuse! Well, you mess up! What do you want from me? What I don't understand, right? Confuse, but you need to do the job. It will be visible there. The most important thing, this is the most ... not some kind of colony of juvenile delinquents, but, you understand, social education ... We need such a person, here ... our man! You do it. Anyway, everyone needs to learn. And you will learn. It's good that you said to your face: I don't know. Well, good.
- Is there a place? Buildings are still needed.
- Have a brother. Great place. Just there and there was a colony of juvenile delinquents. Not far away - six versts. It’s good there: a forest, a field, you will breed cows ...
- And the people?
- And I'll take people out of your pocket now. Maybe give you a car?
- Money?..
- There is money. Here, get it.
He pulled out a packet from a drawer.
- One hundred and fifty million. This is for every organization. repairs there, what furniture is needed ...
- And the cows?
- Wait with the cows, there are no glasses. And make a budget for the year.
- It's embarrassing, it wouldn't hurt to see it earlier.
- I already looked ... well, you better see me? Come on, that's all.
- Well, good, - I said with relief, because at that moment there was nothing more terrible for me than the rooms of the Gubernia Economic Council.
- That's a good guy! - said the deputy governor. - Act! The thing is holy!

3. Characteristics of primary needs

The next day I said to the pupils:
- The bedroom must be clean! You must have bedroom attendants. You can only enter the city with my permission. Whoever leaves without a vacation, let him not return - I will not accept.
- Wow! Volokhov said. - Can it be easier?
- Choose, guys, what you need. I can't do otherwise. There must be discipline in the colony. If you don't like it, go wherever you want. And whoever remains to live in the colony will observe discipline. As you wish. "Raspberries" will not.
Zadorov extended his hand to me.
- By hand - right! You, Volokhov, be quiet. You are still stupid in these matters. We still need to sit here, we don’t have to go to the other side.

It was the time of Wrangel and the Polish war. But we, in our forest, resting our heads on our hands, tried to forget about the thunder of great events and read pedagogical books. My main result of reading was a strong conviction that the theory must be extracted from the sum of real phenomena occurring before my eyes.

Kindness in poverty

In our dizzying poverty there was one good side which we never had. Everyone was equally hungry and poor. At that time, they almost did not receive salaries, they went in the same tear. All winter I had no soles on my boots, and a piece of footcloth always crawled out.

Criminal Talent

It was Taranets. He was 16 years old, he was from a family of thieves, he was slender, cheerful, witty, an excellent organizer and an enterprising person. But he did not know how to respect the collective interests. He stole some yaters and dragged them to the colony. Following him, the owners of the yatery came, and the matter ended in a scandal.

“I didn’t teach pedagogy”

Kalina Ivanovich became my first pupil. True, the abundance of his convictions made it difficult. He scolded bourgeois, Bolsheviks, Russians, Jews, our slovenliness and German neatness with the same taste. But his blue eyes sparkled with such love for life that I did not spare my pedagogical energy.

Educator of the present

Makarenko valued material values ​​more than a Bolshevik should have. While the Soviet ideological machine was rushing towards a beautiful tomorrow, the educator was building a well-fed, happy life today. His outlook is bourgeois. Perhaps that is why his system is used in the management of modern companies.

No time

With all my being, I felt that I needed to hurry, that I could not expect another extra day. The colony more and more took on the character of a "raspberry" - a thieves' den, in the relationship of pupils to educators, the tone of constant mockery and hooliganism was increasingly determined.

Anton Semenovich Makarenko

Pedagogical poem

With devotion and love

our boss, friend and teacher

Maxim Gorky

Part one

1. Conversation with the head of the regional administration

In September 1920, the head of the provincial people's department summoned me to his office and said:

- That's what, brother, I heard you swear a lot there ... that's what your labor school was given this very thing ... provincial economic council ...

- Yes, how not to swear? Here you will not only swear - you will howl: what kind of labor school is there? Smokey, dirty! Does it look like a school?

- Yes ... For you, this would be the most: build a new building, put up new desks, then you would be engaged. It’s not in buildings, brother, it’s important to educate a new person, but you, teachers, sabotage everything: the building is not like that and the tables are not like that. You don't have this very... fire, you know, like that - revolutionary. Your pants are out!

- I'm just not out of the loop.

“Well, you’re out of your league… You’re lousy intellectuals!.. I’m looking, I’m looking, it’s such a big deal: these tramps are divorced, boys—you can’t walk down the street, and they climb into apartments. They tell me: this is your business, the people's education organization... Well?

- And what - "well"?

- Yes, this is the same thing: no one wants, to whom I tell - with their hands and feet, they will slaughter, they say. You should have this, an office, little books ... Put on your glasses ...

I laughed.

- Look, the glasses are already in the way!

The head of the regional administration angrily pricked me with his small black eyes and from under his Nietzsche mustache he spewed blasphemy against all our pedagogical brethren. But he was wrong, this head of the regional administration.

- Listen to me...

- Well, "listen"? Well, what can you say? You will say: if only it were the same as in America! I recently read a book on this occasion - slipped it. Reformers... or whatever, stop! Aha! Reformatoriums. Well, we don't have that yet.

- No, you listen to me.

- Well, I'm listening.

- After all, even before the revolution, these tramps were dealt with. There were colonies of juvenile delinquents ...

- This is not the same, you know ... Before the revolution, this is not the same.

- Correctly. So, you need to make a new person in a new way.

- In a new way, you are right.

- Nobody knows how.

"And you don't know?"

“And I don't know.

- But I have, this is the most ... there are those in the provincial people who know ...

“But they don’t want to take over.”

“They don’t want to, you bastards, you’re right.

- And if I take it, they will kill me from the world. Whatever I do, they'll say it's wrong.

- They will say, bitches, you are right.

You will believe them, not me.

- I won’t believe them, I’ll say: it would be better to take it ourselves!

“Well, what if I really get it wrong?”

The head of the regional administration slammed his fist on the table:

- Yes, what are you doing to me: I will confuse, I will confuse! Well, you mess up! What do you want from me? What do I not understand, or what? Confuse, but you need to do the job. It will be visible there. The most important thing, this is the most ... not some kind of colony of juvenile delinquents, but, you understand, social education ... We need such a person, here ... our man! You do it. Everyone needs to learn anyway. And you will learn. It's good that you said to your face: I don't know. Well, good.

- Is there a place? Buildings are still needed.

- Have a brother. Great place. Just there and there was a colony of juvenile delinquents. Not far away - six versts. It’s good there: a forest, a field, you will breed cows ...

– What about the people?

- And I'll take people out of your pocket now. Maybe give you a car?

- Money?..

- There is money. Here, get it.

He pulled out a packet from a drawer.

- One hundred and fifty million. This is for you for any organization, repairs there, whatever furniture you need ...

- And the cows?

- Wait with the cows, there are no glasses. And make a budget for the year.

“It’s embarrassing, it wouldn’t hurt to see it earlier.”

“I already looked… well, you better see me?” Go and that's it.

- Well, good, - I said with relief, because at that moment there was nothing more terrible for me than the rooms of the Gubernia Economic Council.

- That's a good guy! - said the deputy governor. – Act! The thing is holy!

2. The inglorious beginning of the Gorky colony

Six kilometers from Poltava, on sandy hills - two hundred hectares pine forest, and along the edge of the forest - the highway to Kharkov, boringly gleaming with clean cobblestones.

There is a clearing in the forest, about forty hectares. In one of its corners, five geometrically regular brick boxes are placed, which together make up a regular quadrangle. This is a new colony for offenders.

The sandy platform of the courtyard descends into a wide forest clearing, to the reeds of a small lake, on the other side of which there are wattle fences and huts of a kulak farm. Far behind the farm, a row of old birches is drawn in the sky, and two or three more thatched roofs. That's all.

Before the revolution, there was a colony of juvenile delinquents. In 1917, she fled, leaving behind very few pedagogical traces. Judging by these traces, preserved in worn-out diaries, the main teachers in the colony were uncles, probably retired non-commissioned officers, whose duty it was to follow every step of the pupils both during work and during rest, and at night to sleep next to them in the next room. According to the stories of the peasant neighbors, it could be judged that the uncles' pedagogy was not particularly difficult. Its external expression was such a simple projectile as a stick.

The material traces of the old colony were even smaller. The closest neighbors of the colony transported and transferred to their own storage facilities, called chambers and kluni, everything that could be expressed in material units: workshops, pantries, furniture. Between every good was taken out even Orchard. However, in all this history there was nothing resembling vandals. The garden was not cut down, but dug up and re-planted somewhere, the glass in the houses was not broken, but carefully removed, the doors were not planted with an angry ax, but were removed from their hinges in a businesslike manner, the stoves were taken apart brick by brick. Only cupboard in former apartment director remained in place.

Why is the closet left? I asked my neighbor, Luka Semyonovich Verkhola, who had come from the farm to look at the new owners.

- So, it means that we can say that our people do not need this locker. Take it apart - you yourself see what happened to it? And, one might say, he will not enter the hut - both in height and across himself too ...

In the sheds in the corners, a lot of scrap was piled up, but there were no useful items. Following fresh tracks, I managed to recover some valuables, dragged into the most last days. These were: an ordinary old seeder, eight carpentry workbenches, barely standing on their feet, a horse - a gelding, once a Kigiz - at the age of thirty and a copper bell.

In the colony, I already found the caretaker Kalina Ivanovich. He greeted me with a question:

- Will you be the head of the pedagogical department?

I soon established that Kalina Ivanovich expressed herself with a Ukrainian accent, although in principle Ukrainian language did not acknowledge. There were many in his vocabulary Ukrainian words, and "g" he always pronounced in the southern manner. But in the word "pedagogical" for some reason he pressed so hard on the literary Great Russian "r" that he succeeded, perhaps, even too strongly.

- Will you be the head of the pedagogical department?

- Why? I am the head of the colony ...

“No,” he said, taking the pipe out of his mouth, “you will be the head of the pedagogical department, and I will be the head of the economic department.

Imagine Vrubel's "Pan", already completely bald, with only small remnants of hair above his ears. Shave off Pan's beard, and cut his mustache like a bishop. Give him a pipe in the teeth. It will no longer be Pan, but Kalina Ivanovich Serdyuk. He was extremely difficult for such a simple matter as managing the economy of a children's colony. Behind him was at least fifty years various activities. But only two eras were his pride: in his youth he was a hussar of the Life Guards of Her Majesty's Keksgolmsky Regiment, and in the eighteenth year he was in charge of the evacuation of the city of Mirgorod during the German offensive.

Kalina Ivanovich became the first object of my educational activity. I was especially troubled by the abundance of the most diverse beliefs in him. He scolded bourgeois, Bolsheviks, Russians, Jews, our slovenliness and German neatness with the same taste. But his blue eyes sparkled with such a love for life, he was so receptive and agile, that I did not spare him a little pedagogical energy. And I began his education in the very first days, from our first conversation:

- How is it, Comrade Serdyuk, can not be without the head of the colony? Someone has to be responsible for everything.

Kalina Ivanovich took out the receiver again and politely bowed to my face:

- So you want to be the head of the colony? And that I, in some way, obey you?

– No, it is not necessary. Let me obey you.

- I didn’t study pedagogy, what’s not mine is not mine. You are still a young man and you want me, an old man, to run errands? That's not good either! And to be the head of the colony - well, you know, for this I am still semi-literate, and why should I? ..

Kalina Ivanovich moved away from me unfavorably. Pouted. The whole day he walked around sad, and in the evening he came to my room already in complete sadness.

- Thanks.

- I thought, thinking, how should we deal with this very colony. And having decided that, of course, it is better for you to be the head of the colony, and I will, as it were, obey you.

- Let's make peace, Kalina Ivanovich.

“I also think that we will make up.” They do not mold holy pots, and we will do our job. And you, as a literate person, will be like a manager.

We got to work. With the help of "dryuchkov", the thirty-year-old horse was put on its feet. Kalina Ivanovich perched on some kind of cart, kindly provided to us by a neighbor, and this whole system moved into the city at a speed of two kilometers per hour. The organizational period has begun.

For the organizational period, a quite appropriate task was set - the concentration of material values ​​\u200b\u200bnecessary for the upbringing of a new person. For two months, Kalina Ivanovich and I spent whole days in the city. Kalina Ivanovich went to the city, and I went on foot. He considered the walking method below his dignity, and I could not reconcile myself with the pace that the former Kyrgyz could provide.

Within two months, with the help of village specialists, we somehow managed to put one of the barracks of the former colony in order: they inserted windows, straightened stoves, and hung new doors. In the area of foreign policy we had the only, but significant achievement: we managed to beg from the food commissariat of the First Reserve one hundred and fifty pounds rye flour. We were not lucky to “concentrate” other material values.

Comparing all this with my ideals in the field material culture, I saw: if I had a hundred times more, then there would be as much left to the ideal as it is now. As a result, I was forced to declare the organizational period ended. Kalina Ivanovich agreed with my point of view:

- Ilya Muromets?

- Well, let's be like Ilya Muromets, it's not so bad. And where is the Nightingale the Robber?

- Solovyov-robbers, brother, as much as you want ...

Two teachers arrived at the colony: Ekaterina Grigorievna and Lidia Petrovna. In search of teachers, I came to complete despair: no one wanted to devote himself to educating a new person in our forest - everyone was afraid of "tramps", and no one believed that our idea would end in good. And only at the conference of rural school workers, at which I also had to play, were two living people found. I was glad they were women. It seemed to me that the "ennobling female influence" would happily complement our system of forces.

Lidia Petrovna was very young - a girl. She recently graduated from high school and has not yet cooled off from maternal care. The head of the governor asked me, signing the appointment:

Why do you need this girl? She doesn't know anything.

Yes, that's exactly what I was looking for. You see, sometimes it occurs to me that knowledge is not so important now. This same Lidochka is the purest creature, I count on her, sort of like a vaccination.

- Aren't you too cunning? OK then…

But Ekaterina Grigorievna was a seasoned pedagogical wolf. She was born not much earlier than Lidochka, but Lidochka leaned against her shoulder like a child against its mother. Ekaterina Grigorievna is on a serious beautiful face almost masculine black eyebrows straightened. She knew how to wear miraculously preserved dresses with accentuated neatness, and Kalina Ivanovich correctly put it when he met her:

“You have to be very careful with a woman like that.”

So everything was ready.

On December 4, the first six inmates arrived at the colony and presented me with some kind of fabulous package with five huge wax seals. There were "cases" in the package. Four were eighteen years old, were sent for armed robbery, and two were younger and were accused of theft. Our pupils were beautifully dressed: riding breeches, smart boots. Their hairstyles were of the latest fashion. These were not street children at all. The names of these first: Zadorov, Burun, Volokhov, Bendyuk, Gud and Taranets.

We welcomed them warmly. A particularly delicious dinner was being prepared for us in the morning, the cook shone with a snow-white bandage; in the bedroom, in the space free from beds, front tables were set; we did not have tablecloths, but they were successfully replaced by new sheets. All members of the nascent colony gathered here. Kalina Ivanovich also came, on the occasion of the celebration, he changed his gray smeared jacket for a green velvet jacket.

I gave a speech about a new, working life, about the need to forget about the past, that you need to go on and on. The pupils did not listen to my speech well, whispered, looked with sly smiles and contempt at the folding beds - “dachas” - arranged in the barracks, covered with far from new wadded blankets, at unpainted doors and windows. In the middle of my speech, Zadorov suddenly said loudly to one of his comrades:

- Through you got stuck in this mess!

We spent the rest of the day planning later life. But the pupils listened to my proposals with polite negligence - if only they could get rid of me as soon as possible.

And the next morning Lidia Petrovna, agitated, came to me and said:

- I don’t know how to talk to them ... I tell them: we need to go to the lake for water, and one there, like that - with a haircut, puts on boots and right in my face with a boot: “You see, the shoemaker sewed very tight boots!”

In the early days they didn't even insult us, they just didn't notice us. By evening, they freely left the colony and returned in the morning, smiling discreetly at my heartfelt Socialist reprimand. A week later, Bendyuk was arrested by a visiting agent of the provincial investigation department for murder and robbery committed at night. Lidochka was frightened to death by this event, she cried in her room and went out only to ask everyone:

– Yes, what is it? How is it so? Went and killed?

Ekaterina Grigoryevna, smiling seriously, frowned her brows:

The deserted forest that surrounded our colony, the empty boxes of our houses, a dozen "dachas" instead of beds, an ax and a shovel as a tool, and half a dozen pupils who categorically denied not only our pedagogy, but all human culture - all this, to tell the truth, did not at all corresponded to our previous school experience.

Long winter evenings it was terrible in the colony. The colony was lit by two five-line bulbs: one in the bedroom, the other in my room. The educators and Kalina Ivanovich had "kagans" - an invention of the times of Kyi, Shchek and Khoriv. In my lamp, the upper part of the glass was broken off, and the remaining part was always smoked, because Kalina Ivanovich, lighting his pipe, often used the fire of my lamp, for this he pushed half the newspaper into the glass.

That year, snowstorms began early, and the entire courtyard of the colony was littered with drifts of snow, and there was no one to clear the paths. I asked the pupils about this, but Zadorov told me:

- The paths can be cleared, but only let the winter end: otherwise we will clear it, and the snow will attack again. Do you understand?

He smiled sweetly and went to his friend, forgetting about my existence.

Zadorov was from an intelligent family - this was immediately evident. He spoke correctly, his face was distinguished by that youthful sleekness that only well-fed children have. Volokhov was a different kind of person: a wide mouth, a wide nose, widely spaced eyes - all this with a special fleshy mobility - the face of a bandit. Volokhov always kept his hands in the pockets of his riding breeches, and now he approached me in this pose:

Well, they told you...

I left the bedroom, turning my anger into some kind of heavy stone in my chest. But the paths had to be cleared, and petrified anger required movement. I went to Kalina Ivanovich:

Let's go clear the snow.

- What you! Well, I was hired here as a black worker? And what are these? he nodded towards the bedrooms. - Nightingale robbers?

- Do not want.

Kalina Ivanovich and I were already finishing the first track when Volokhov and Taranets stepped onto it, heading, as always, to the city.

- That's good! said Taranets cheerfully.

“It would have been like that for a long time,” Volokhov supported.

Kalina Ivanovich blocked their way:

Kalina Ivanovich waved his shovel, but in a moment his shovel flew far into the snowdrift, his pipe flew in the other direction, and the amazed Kalina Ivanovich could only look after the young men and from a distance hear them shout to him:

- You'll have to climb for a shovel yourself!

With a laugh they went into the city.

- I'm going to hell! Let me work here! - said Kalina Ivanovich and went to his apartment, leaving a shovel in a snowdrift.

Our life has become sad and terrible. On the high road to Kharkov every evening they shouted:

- Rush! ..

The robbed villagers came to us and asked for help in tragic voices.

I begged the head of the regional government for a revolver to protect me from the road knights, but I hid my position in the colony from him. I still did not lose hope that I would come up with a way to negotiate with the pupils.

The first months of our colony for me and my comrades were not only months of despair and impotent tension - they were also months of searching for the truth. In all my life I have not read so much pedagogical literature as in the winter of 1920.

It was the time of Wrangel and the Polish war. Wrangel is somewhere close, near Novomirgorod; not far from us, in Cherkassy, ​​the Poles fought, fathers roamed all over Ukraine, many around us were in a black-and-yellow charm. But we, in our forest, resting our heads on our hands, tried to forget about the thunder of great events and read pedagogical books.

My main result of this reading was a strong and, for some reason, suddenly solid conviction that there was no science and no theory in my hands, that theory had to be extracted from the totality of real phenomena occurring before my very eyes. At first I did not even understand, but simply saw that I needed not bookish formulas, which I still could not tie to the case, but immediate analysis and immediate action.

With all my being, I felt that I needed to hurry, that I could not expect another extra day. The colony more and more took on the character of a "raspberry" - a thieves' den, in the relationship of pupils to educators, the tone of constant mockery and hooliganism was increasingly determined. In front of the teachers, obscene anecdotes were already being told, they rudely demanded that dinner be served, they threw plates in the dining room, defiantly played finches and mockingly asked how much good anyone had:

- Always, you know, it can come in handy ... in difficult times.

They resolutely refused to go and cut wood for the stoves, and in the presence of Kalina Ivanovich they broke the wooden roof of the shed. They did it with friendly jokes and laughter:

Enough for our time!

Kalina Ivanovich scattered millions of sparks from his pipe and spread his arms:

And so it happened: I could not stay on the pedagogical tightrope. One winter morning, I suggested to Zadorov that he go and chop wood for the kitchen. Heard the usual perky-cheerful answer:

- Go and cut yourself, there are a lot of you here!

In a state of anger and resentment, driven to despair and frenzy by all the previous months, I swung and hit Zadorov on the cheek. He hit hard, he could not stay on his feet and fell on the stove. I hit him a second time, grabbed him by the collar, lifted him up and hit him a third time.

I suddenly saw that he was terribly frightened. Pale, with trembling hands, he hurried to put on his cap, then took it off and put it on again. I would probably still beat him, but he whispered softly and with a groan:

- Excuse me, Anton Semenovich ...

My anger was so wild and immoderate that I felt: if someone said a word against me, I would throw myself at everyone, I would strive to kill, to destroy this pack of bandits. I had an iron poker in my hands. All five pupils stood silently by their beds, Burun was in a hurry to fix something in his suit.

Abstract

The volume includes the "Pedagogical Poem" and the author's preparatory materials for it, allowing you to more fully present the system of education in the labor colony named after M. Gorky, the formation and development children's team, the fate of individual pupils.

http://ruslit.traumlibrary.net

Anton Semenovich Makarenko

Pedagogical poem

Part one

1. Conversation with the head of the regional administration

2. The inglorious beginning of the Gorky colony

3. Characteristics of primary needs

4. Operations of an internal nature

5. Cases of national importance

6. The conquest of the iron tank

7. "No flea is bad"

8. Character and culture

9. “There are still knights in Ukraine”

10. "Ascetics of the socialist"

11. Triumphal planter

12. Bratchenko and the regional food commissioner

13. Osadchy

14. Neighborly inkwells

15. "Ours is the best"

16. Gabersup

17. Sharin on reprisal

18. "Bind" with villagers

19. Game of forfeits

20. About the living and the dead

21. Harmful grandfathers

22. Amputation

23. Varietal seeds

24. Walking Seeds through the torments

25. Commander pedagogy

26. Fiends of the second colony

27. The conquest of the Komsomol

28. Beginning of the fanfare march

Part two

1. Jug of milk

2. Otchenash

3. Dominants

5. Kulak education

6. Arrows of Cupid

7. Replenishment

8. Ninth and tenth units

9. Fourth Consolidated

10. Wedding

11. Lyrics

13. Grimaces of love and poetry

14. Do not squeak!

15. Difficult people

18. Combat intelligence

Part three

2. Advanced consolidated

4. "All is well"

5. Idyll

6. Five days

7. Three hundred and seventy-third bis

9. Makeover

10. At the sole of Olympus

11. First sheaf

13. "Help the boy"

14. Awards

15. Epilogue

Separate chapters of the first part of the Pedagogical Poem

Battle on Rocky Lake

On pedagogical paths

About the "explosion"

Fragments of the chapters of the Pedagogical Poem

From preparatory materials to "Pedagogical poem"

Types and Prototypes

From the list of prototypes

Outline of the novel

Anton Semenovich Makarenko

Pedagogical essays in eight volumes

Pedagogical poem

With devotion and love

our boss, friend and teacher

Maxim Gorky

Part one

1. Conversation with the head of the regional administration

In September 1920, the head of the provincial people's department summoned me to his office and said:

That's what, brother, I heard you swear a lot there ... that's what they gave your labor school this very thing ... the provincial economic council ...

Yes, how not to swear? Here you will not only scold - you will howl: what kind of labor school is there? Smokey, dirty! Does it look like a school?

Yes... It would be the same for you: to build a new building, put up new desks, then you would be engaged. It’s not in buildings, brother, it’s important to educate a new person, but you, teachers, sabotage everything: the building is not like that, and the tables are not like that. You don't have this very ... fire, you know, such a revolutionary one. Your pants are out!

I just don't have a run.

Well, you’re out of your mind… You’re lousy intellectuals!.. So I’m looking, I’m looking, it’s such a big deal: these tramps are divorced, boys - you can’t walk down the street, and they climb around the apartments. They tell me: this is your business, the people's education organization... Well?

What about "well"?

Yes, this is the same thing: no one wants, to whom I say - with their hands and feet, they will slaughter, they say. You should have this cabinet, books ... Put on your glasses ...

I laughed.

Look, the glasses are already in the way!

The head of the regional administration angrily pricked me with his small black eyes and from under his Nietzsche mustache he spewed blasphemy against all our pedagogical brethren. But he was wrong, this head of the regional administration.

Now listen to me...

Well, what "listen"? Well, what can you say? You will say: if only it were the same as in America! I recently read a little book on this occasion - slipped it. Reformers... or whatever, stop! Aha! Reformatoriums. Well, we don't have that yet.

No, you listen to me.

Well, I'm listening.

After all, even before the revolution, they coped with these tramps. There were colonies of juvenile delinquents ...

It's not the same, you know... Before the revolution, it's not the same.

Correctly. So, you need to make a new person in a new way.

In a new way, you are right.

And no one knows how.

And don't you know?

And I don't know.

But I have this very thing ... there are those in the provincial government who know ...

And they don't want to get down to business.

They don't want to, bastards, you're right.

And if I take it, they will kill me from the world. Whatever I do, they'll say it's wrong.

The bitches will say, you're right.

And you believe them, not me.

I won’t believe them, I’ll say: it would be better to take it ourselves!

So what if I really messed up?

The head of the regional administration slammed his fist on the table:

Why are you telling me: I'll mess it up, I'll mess it up! Well, you mess up! What do you want from me? What I don't understand, right? Confuse, but you need to do the job. It will be visible there. The most important thing, this is the most ... not some kind of colony of juvenile delinquents, but, you understand, social education ... We need such a person, here ... our man! You do it. Anyway, everyone needs to learn. And you will learn. It's good that you said to your face: I don't know. Well, good.

Is there a place? Buildings are still needed.

Have a brother. Great place. Just there and there was a colony of juvenile delinquents. Not far away - six versts. It’s good there: a forest, a field, you will breed cows ...

And now I'll take people out of your pocket. Maybe give you a car?

Money?..

There is money. Here, get it.

He pulled out a packet from a drawer.

One hundred and fifty million. This is for every organization. repairs there, what furniture is needed ...

And for cows?

Wait with the cows, there are no glasses. And make a budget for the year.

It's embarrassing, it wouldn't hurt to see it earlier.

I already looked… well, you better see me? Come on, that's all.

Well, good, - I said with relief, because at that moment there was nothing more terrible for me than the rooms of the Gubernia Economic Council.

Here is a good guy! - said the deputy governor. - Act! The thing is holy!

2. The inglorious beginning of the Gorky colony

Six kilometers from Poltava on sandy hills - two hundred hectares of pine forest, and along the edge of the forest - the highway to Kharkov, boringly gleaming with clean cobblestones.

There is a clearing in the forest, about forty hectares. In one of its corners, five geometrically regular brick boxes are placed, which together make up a regular quadrangle. This is a new colony for offenders.

The sandy platform of the courtyard descends into a wide forest clearing, to the reeds of a small lake, on the other side of which there are wattle fences and huts of a kulak farm. Far behind the farm, a row of old birches is drawn in the sky, and two or three more thatched roofs. That's all.

Before the revolution, there was a colony of juvenile delinquents. In 1917, she fled, leaving behind very few pedagogical traces. Judging by these traces, preserved in tattered journals, diaries, the main teachers in the colony were uncles, probably retired non-commissioned officers, whose duty it was to follow every step of the pupils both during work and during rest, and sleep next to each other at night. with them in the next room. According to the stories of the peasant neighbors, it could be judged that the uncles' pedagogy was not particularly difficult. Its external expression was such a simple projectile as a stick.

The material traces of the old colony were even smaller. The closest neighbors of the colony transported and transferred to their own storages, called comoros and kluni, everything that could be expressed in material units: workshops, pantries, furniture. Among all good things, even an orchard was taken out. However, in all this history there was nothing resembling vandals. The garden was not cut down, but dug out and re-planted somewhere, the windows in the houses were not broken, but carefully removed, the doors were not planted with an angry ax, but were removed from their hinges in a businesslike manner, the stoves were taken apart like bricks. Only the cupboard in the director's former apartment remained in place.

Why is the closet left? I asked my neighbor, Luka Semyonovich Verkhola, who had come from the farm to look at the new owners.

So, it means that we can say that this locker is unnecessary for our people. Take it apart - you yourself see what happened to it? And it can be said that he will not enter the hut - both in height and across himself too ...

In the sheds in the corners, a lot of scrap was piled up, but there were no useful items. Following fresh tracks, I managed to recover some valuables stolen in the most recent days ...

In September 1920, the head of the provincial people's department summoned me to his office and said:

That's what, brother, I heard you swear a lot there ... that's what they gave your labor school this very thing ... the provincial economic council ...

Yes, how not to swear? Here you will not only scold - you will howl: what kind of labor school is there? Smokey, dirty! Does it look like a school?

Yes... It would be the same for you: to build a new building, put up new desks, then you would be engaged. It’s not in buildings, brother, it’s important to educate a new person, but you, teachers, sabotage everything: the building is not like that, and the tables are not like that. You don't have this very ... fire, you know, such a revolutionary one. Your pants are out!

I just don't have a run.

Well, you’re out of your mind… You’re lousy intellectuals!.. So I’m looking, I’m looking, it’s such a big deal: these tramps are divorced, boys - you can’t walk down the street, and they climb around the apartments. They tell me: this is your business, the people's education organization... Well?

What about "well"?

Yes, this is the same thing: no one wants, to whom I say - with their hands and feet, they will slaughter, they say. You should have this cabinet, books ... Put on your glasses ...

I laughed.

Look, the glasses are already in the way!

The head of the regional administration angrily pricked me with his small black eyes and from under his Nietzsche mustache he spewed blasphemy against all our pedagogical brethren. But he was wrong, this head of the regional administration.

Now listen to me...

Well, what "listen"? Well, what can you say? You will say: if only it were the same as in America! I recently read a little book on this occasion - slipped it. Reformers... or whatever, stop! Aha! Reformatoriums. Well, we don't have that yet. (Reformatoriums - institutions for the re-education of juvenile delinquents in some cap countries; children's prisons).

No, you listen to me.

Well, I'm listening.

After all, even before the revolution, they coped with these tramps. There were colonies of juvenile delinquents ...

It's not the same, you know... Before the revolution, it's not the same.

Correctly. So, you need to make a new person in a new way.

In a new way, you are right.

And no one knows how.

And don't you know?

And I don't know.

But I have this very thing ... there are those in the provincial government who know ...

And they don't want to get down to business.

They don't want to, bastards, you're right.

And if I take it, they will kill me from the world. Whatever I do, they'll say it's wrong.

The bitches will say, you're right.

And you believe them, not me.

I won’t believe them, I’ll say: it would be better to take it ourselves!

So what if I really messed up?

The head of the regional administration slammed his fist on the table:

Why are you telling me: I'll mess it up, I'll mess it up! Well, you mess up! What do you want from me? What I don't understand, right? Confuse, but you need to do the job. It will be visible there. The most important thing, this is the most ... not some kind of colony of juvenile delinquents, but, you understand, social education ... We need such a person, here ... our man! You do it. Anyway, everyone needs to learn. And you will learn. It's good that you said to your face: I don't know. Well, good.

Is there a place? Buildings are still needed.

Have a brother. Great place. Just there and there was a colony of juvenile delinquents. Not far away - six versts. It’s good there: a forest, a field, you will breed cows ...

And now I'll take people out of your pocket. Maybe give you a car?

Money?..

There is money. Here, get it.

He pulled out a packet from a drawer.

One hundred and fifty million. This is for every organization. repairs there, what furniture is needed ...

And for cows?

Wait with the cows, there are no glasses. And make a budget for the year.

It's embarrassing, it wouldn't hurt to see it earlier.

I already looked… well, you better see me? Come on, that's all.

Well, good, - I said with relief, because at that moment there was nothing more terrible for me than the rooms of the Gubernia Economic Council.

Here is a good guy! - said the deputy governor. - Act! The thing is holy!

Six kilometers from Poltava on sandy hills - two hundred hectares of pine forest, and along the edge of the forest - the highway to Kharkov, boringly gleaming with a clean cobblestone.

There is a clearing in the forest, about forty hectares. In one of its corners, five geometrically regular brick boxes are placed, which together make up a regular quadrangle. This is a new colony for offenders.

The sandy platform of the courtyard descends into a wide forest clearing, to the reeds of a small lake, on the other side of which there are wattle fences and huts of a kulak farm. Far behind the farm, a row of old birches is drawn in the sky, and two or three more thatched roofs. That's all.

Before the revolution, there was a colony of juvenile delinquents. In 1917, she fled, leaving behind very few pedagogical traces. Judging by these traces, preserved in tattered journals, diaries, the main teachers in the colony were uncles, probably retired non-commissioned officers, whose duty it was to follow every step of the pupils both during work and during rest, and sleep next to each other at night. with them in the next room. According to the stories of the peasant neighbors, it could be judged that the uncles' pedagogy was not particularly difficult. Its external expression was such a simple projectile as a stick.

The material traces of the old colony were even smaller. The closest neighbors of the colony transported and transferred to their own storages, called comoros and kluni, everything that could be expressed in material units: workshops, pantries, furniture. Among all good things, even an orchard was taken out. However, in all this history there was nothing resembling vandals. The garden was not cut down, but dug out and re-planted somewhere, the windows in the houses were not broken, but carefully removed, the doors were not planted with an angry ax, but were removed from their hinges in a businesslike manner, the stoves were taken apart like bricks. Only the cupboard in the director's former apartment remained in place.

Why is the closet left? I asked my neighbor, Luka Semyonovich Verkhola, who had come from the farm to look at the new owners.

So, it means, we can say that our people do not need this locker. Take it apart - you yourself see what happened to it? And it can be said that he will not enter the hut - both in height and across himself too ...

In the sheds in the corners, a lot of scrap was piled up, but there were no useful items. On fresh footsteps, I managed to recover some valuables stolen in the most recent days. These were: an ordinary old seeder, eight carpentry workbenches, barely standing on their feet, a horse - a gelding, once a Kigiz - at the age of thirty years and a copper bell.

In the colony, I already found the caretaker Kalina Ivanovich. He greeted me with a question:

Will you be the head of the pedagogical department?

I soon established that Kalina Ivanovich expressed himself with a Ukrainian accent, although he did not recognize the Ukrainian language in principle. There were many Ukrainian words in his dictionary, and he always pronounced "g" in a southern manner. But in the word "pedagogical" for some reason he pressed so hard on the literary Great Russian "r" that he succeeded, perhaps, even too strongly.

Will you be the head of the pedagogical department?

Why? I am the head of the colony ...

No,” he said, taking the pipe out of his mouth, “you will be the head of the pedagogical department, and I will be the head of the economic department.

Imagine Vrubel's "Pan", already completely bald, with only small remnants of hair above his ears. Shave off Pan's beard, and cut his mustache like a bishop. Give him a pipe in the teeth. It will no longer be Pan, but Kalina Ivanovich Serdyuk. He was extremely difficult for such a simple matter as managing the economy of a children's colony. Behind him was at least fifty years of various activities. But only two eras were his pride: in his youth he was a hussar of the Life Guards of Her Majesty's Keksgolmsky Regiment, and in the eighteenth year he was in charge of the evacuation of the city of Mirgorod during the German offensive.