Khrestivsʹka Zosh I - Iii Stupeniv

Native school, best memories. Great school with great teachers. Gives a sure chance to enter any higher education institution in Ukraine, those who want, and with due diligence, of course;)

This is my home school where I studied for a few years here are very good teachers of the initial classes, but at the expense of the rest of the teachers I will not say anything because it is nonhumans, evil, uncircumcision, boring, bureaucrats (except for young teachers they are very classy) Grinchenko V.V is a very good teacher, kind, sympathetic, Baranovskaya V.M. is a highly educated, kind teacher, Lysenko M.P. is very responsive)) ** Kaneshno same school looks good behind her, two nations live under one roof, and so all plus I'm talking about the table the taste is silent

Knowledge Stnik Do you believe in miracles? I don’t think so. But it still happens in our non-poetic days. ... Then I was clearly not myself: I lost my head precisely because of the acacia branch ... Spring ... We have almost no spring, and a tedious, hot summer. Flowers smell tasteless: lilac gives oil, left-handed - cabbage, jasmine - horse manure. But the acacia clusters are stunning. You walk along the street and suddenly stop when you see trembling crumbs of white color. They wonderfully, imperceptibly tickle your whole being, reporting something sweet, dear. I want to take a deep breath and smile. It smells like acacia. But after a day it already seems that the whole city is bathed in its spicy spirits. And you cough, sneeze and almost hate her. Acacia is everywhere: in parks and squares, on streets and squares. Where to run from her? I don’t know where to hide from the fragrant witchcraft flower, how to get away from the desire to fall in love hopelessly? No matter who. No matter how much. If only dizzy. Some kind of mystery is still in the white acacia. And it leads to madness ... for sure ... So I thought, looking at a twig, quietly picked from a bush growing under a window and left on a table ... I remembered youth, the world began to seem more beautiful ... At an hour when the wind is raging frantic With new vigor I feel White acacia bunches of fragrant Irreversible as my youth

Fine!