When I became that first year a teacher of the third graders, I felt like I was related to him because I knew he had been very close to my father. School began in Septem¬ber 1932. I remember those little ones, boys and girls. I knew they did not have enough food. Most were skinny, but they were like children and tried to learn some¬thing from me. I tried to give them what they could take. If I needed consultation, I always went to my principal. He was so helpful to me.

But before the end of 1932, I see what was happening. My children did not attend classes. I asked those who came to school where was Maria or Katrina? They answered me, They lay at home.” “Why?” “Because they are hungry. Because so are their parents—some of them even die.” I thought what can I do?

I came to my principal. I remember his name, Makaveyev. His was a real Russian name, but he loved the Ukrainian people. Even though he spoke Russian, I realized after awhile he hated the political system because it was an inhuman system. I asked him what I could do, my students had stopped attending classes. And he said one, then after awhile he repeated, “Why, we can do nothing. If we try to open our mouths, we will perish.” I understood. Just be quiet, silence. That’s all.

And 1933 began. Before spring, I remembered I did not have so many students, be¬cause I asked those who came what had happened to the others. They said that they died. One thing I noticed—even before they died, the children would come to school, come and sit quietly and like they were sleeping, say nothing, stay four hours or near four hours, and before I knew it, they even started to smell.

By springtime, in May, I had lost more than half of the children. And remember, that it was like a central high school for all that big country around, because we has special elementary school for one and four grade. At that high school we had some classes elementary school where I taught. And just remember, most of the children who survived belonged to families of the civil service or the Communist Party. But anyway, even those children were depressed. They behaved like monks. You know, monks in the Middle Ages. They were so quiet, and they behave not like children. They never played. This year, I saw no children play like children. I again asked the principal, “Maybe there is something you can take from some place, maybe give some¬thing to help them.” He said, “That’s it. Quiet.” That was 1933.

When the new school year started in 1933, I started teaching, but Communist government took everything from my father who was a good farmer. Politically, I was a young man but I felt like an old one. I knew that this society was not for me. I just tried to adjust

I remember something happened. My father lived about 12 miles south from that place. And thanks to that high school principal, he send me to school. I went to Zaporizhzhia. I prepare myself for one year for college, university. They called it the Zaporizhzhia Pedagogical Institute. From 1933 to 1936, I was a student.

But in 1936 ,I went to my mother because my father died. He died. They said, “Go like a kurkul when the harvest come.” Even he was no young man. He was in the Russo-Japanese War in Russian Army in 1904-1905. And he tried to stay home be¬cause once they tried to pull him out from his home. They tried to destroy his home. He begged. I remember just one thing, that head of Communist Party in my village, small village, he begged him, he fall down like in church, you know? I did not see this but they told me. He begged him because he had children and my mother.