Part I. The Village
I grew up in a small village in central Russia with no cell phones, computers, internet, proper medical care, transportation and any other essentials and conveniences which many people are accustomed to today. My parents did not have a bachelor's degree. My father was a military man. My mother worked as an operator on the military gas station. Life in the village was hard. In addition to the lack of healthcare and opportunities for education and personal development, families often had to live with no income for several months. Starting at the age of 9, I used to spend summers in the forest by picking up blueberries from sunrise till sunset: two days of picking and then a trip to the nearest city in the hope to sell the work. My mother also picked up blueberries as well as mushrooms and different herbs. My father fished in the local river. We made our own jams, marinates and tea that would help us survive in difficult times and in winters. And it was so year after year.
Hospital
Grocery Store
Church
Our Treasure
I attended the village school that had 11 grades. My teachers believed that I was a smart girl and they allowed me to skip the fourth grade to move to more advanced classes. Thus, I studied for only 10 years.
During that time, I first noticed my passion for learning. I always had questions after lectures but the old country textbooks with missing pages did not have all the answers nor my elderly teachers had enough patience to provide thorough explanations at the end of their workday. I thought that it might be ok for the time being and believed that there would be better opportunities ahead.
School
Hall
Library
Gym
Sports Ground
Restroom
Our neighbors were a good family with two children. All looked happy and healthy except for the man who served in the army with my father. His face, neck and arms had large burns and I was curious about how he got them and when. It turned out that he was among the first liquidators of the nuclear disaster in Chernobyl that took place in 1986. The burns on his skin were the result of a short time exposure there while wearing protective clothing. The burns did not heal but instead became worse with time. Tragically, a few years later, the soldier died... His story made a deep impression on me, and I felt that it was something that I wanted to be connected to somehow in my professional life.
I graduated from the school in 2008. The same year, my father went into retirement and received a military certificate to acquire housing in one of the nearest cities. My parents decided to move to Kovrov because that was a place where they met. My parents exchanged the certificate for an apartment close to Kovrov State Technological Academy named after V. A. Degtyarev and the next part of my educational journey began.
