The name of my favorite teacher was Elvira Rafaelovna Tochmokian. She taught us Russian Language and Literature from the fifth to the eighth grade. When I first saw her she was twenty-four and looked like the counselor Deana Troy on Star Track. The year was 1984, and we were still Pioneers. Perestroika, Glasnost’ and Democracy were very far from being the buzzwords of the world, and very few people in the Soviet Union knew what to tell the kids about our past and our future.
Everyone was petrified, but some, like me were snickering at the same time, since many
of my classmates sounded ridiculous. A number of children read too fast and weren’t able to
answer the simplest question after the paragraph. Some on the other hand read too slowly since they couldn’t do any better, and finally there were those who were shaking like a leaf.
I had nightmares about that test for about two months, and my score ended up to be average, but it didn’t matter. The beautiful young woman, leaning on the window still, taking notes in her notebook intrigued me. My fears about having a different teacher for each subject flew out the window, and I was happy that that woman was going to teach my favorite subject.
Next year, and a few years after that, Elvira exceeded my expectations. As one of the youngest members of the teaching staff she was a rebel against the system, and was often in trouble. Aside from having the best fashion sense in school, and looking great, she possessed something only a few in our city had - a science fiction collection in her library, some under ground publications on her class desk and a VCR in her home.
After the presentation of the Literature material in her class Elvira passed out the standard cheat sheet essays, which used to get an A in the Socialist Society. “This is what I don’t want to see in your papers,” she said, as we looked on the laminated index cards filed with fine print. “You may use the quotes out of here, but not the ideology.” Can you imagine a teacher passing out Cliff notes? The further we got from the standard, the better our grade was. Elvira made us think, and defend our opinions.
In her classes of Russian grammar she took 10 to 15 minutes from each class to read a
science fiction book or to narrate the most recent Movie she saw on the VCR. The quality of those movies was poor, but because they were American, or British films she believed they would open a new world to us.
Elvira made up intellectual games, staged costumed presentations and arranged field trips almost every month, and also was usually reprimanded by the principal for them. But it didn’t stop here. She continued to take time from class for reading, despite the complaints of some
parents, who thought she was not giving their children enough grammar to prepare them for the state exams.
There were a few Communist Party member parents who found her a bad influence on their children, who transferred their kids to another school. May be my Russian grammar could have been better, but I think she gave me something much more important. She taught me to read, to think and to stand for what I believe in. I had many great teachers in my life, but looking at it now, I think Elvira is the reason I tutored children and adults while I was in college.
2001
