What can you write about the first teacher. Life stories

Grade 9 student Razumkova Tatiana

This material is a student's story about her first teacher

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Leader - Gorbenko Tatyana Vasilievna, teacher of Russian language and literature, municipal budgetary educational institution "Kurikha basic general education school", settlement Kurikha.

Work completed 9th grade student Razumkova Tatiana.

“All the pride of the teacher is in the students, in growth

The seeds he sowed. "

D. Mindeleev.

Essay on the topic "My first teacher"

Stern, almost always with a serious expression on her face, with a loud voice, but so kind and understanding - this is my first teacher, Shapina Nina Aleksandrovna.

I met her ten years ago, when for the first time I came to an unfamiliar place with big bows and a huge backpack on my shoulders. How much fear and misunderstanding there was in a little child's heart. In front of me was she - a festively dressed woman, with a short haircut, radiant big eyes and a radiant smile. Nina Alexandrovna took me by the hand and led me to my desk. This is how our journey through the land of knowledge began.

With what impatience we waited for the morning to make new discoveries together with the teacher. No one even guessed: in order for us to get into the "secret" in the morning, the teacher sat at the table all evening, looking for interesting material for tomorrow's lesson.

At the time we went to bed, she still checked our notebooks, invented, composed, and sometimes went to bed in the morning. She wanted us to go to school with pleasure and not get bored in class. Giving myself to other children, unfortunately, I left little time for the family. The teacher strives to ensure that the students understand him, because the work of any teacher is aimed at ensuring that the children have a happy future. I am grateful to Nina Alexandrovna for my first grade, for everything she taught me.

They say the truth: "The teacher is the second mother." After all, it was she who was able to understand, help, reach out to every little heart. During the four years I spent with Nina Alexandrovna, there were a lot of happy moments. Like every child, I could not do without tears, bad grades, remarks. The loud voice of the teacher always put us on guard, such disobedient ones, the praise from her lips made us happy, made us blush and embarrassed.

I will never forget my stay at our Dandelion School Camp. Nina Alexandrovna was a teacher in my shift. It was there that I felt that my teacher was my second mother. She helped us in our endeavors. Hikes in the woods, instructive stories, joint games brought us together very much. Oh, what a wonderful time! In the camp we studied, talked, learned songs, danced. It was a lot of fun, and all thanks to the leisure that our beloved teacher organized for us.

I remember the case when during the game, I accidentally hurt myself. It was very painful. And then I ran for help to Nina Alexandrovna, it was to her, kind and understanding, who would help in difficult times, just like my mother.

The years passed. Every day we got used more and more to our first teacher. She became a support and support for us. Even now, when I take a thread and a needle, I remember the labor lessons with a smile. It was Nina Aleksandrovna who taught us to sew and knit. If something didn't work out for me, she diligently explained. When I saw the smile on her face, all fears and misunderstandings disappeared. Her confidence gave us confidence.

Every day at school, sitting at a desk, we admired our teacher. She was always busy with us, her students. A loving person knows how to give warmth to others. There was enough love and care for my family. Nina Alexandrovna has two daughters, for whom she became a support and support in life. She is a grandmother who, like all women, I think, pampers, like us, her beloved grandchildren.

It seems to me that all this happened to me quite recently. And it's been ten years now. Now with the whole class we very often remember our first teacher, our second mother. Each remembered something different. We share our memories, because they will live in our hearts forever. First letter, first digit. The first word read, the first poem learned - our first teacher taught us everything.

Now Nina Aleksandrovna is on a well-deserved pension. Therefore, we began to see ourselves less often. We hardly notice the work of our teachers and congratulate them only on Teacher's Day, once a year, and even then not everyone ... the teacher hears few warm words from us and from our parents, but this is unfair. I really like these lines:

If there was no teacher

That would not have been used, probably

Neither poet nor thinker

Neither Shakespeare nor Copernicus.

Without his sunny smile

Without its hot fire

Sunflowers to the light of our eyes

Couldn't turn.

Without him without a good heart

The world was not so amazing.

That is why the name of our teacher is so dear to us.

Don't forget the teachers!

May life be worthy of their efforts!

But she does not forget us and is happy to come to school holidays. When we see her, we understand that this is our dear person. At the last meeting, it became interesting to me, and I decided to ask Nina Alexandrovna herself about what remained in her memory about our class, and what the teaching profession meant to her in general. She happily talked to us and said:

Yes, I certainly remember your mischievous 1st grade. I remember everyone as a family. You have always been cheerful and active. You did not always succeed, but thanks to perseverance, solidarity, you achieved success. We got upset, cried because of triplets, hooligans, and then asked for forgiveness. I remember all the excellent students, all who were distinguished by good behavior. I remember everyone who had difficulties in learning and how you overcame them. I really want each of you to find your own path in life and be happy.

After a pause, Nina Alexandrovna continued:

Undoubtedly, the teacher is a vocation, it cannot be otherwise. The teacher should feel with all his soul that this is really his, his vocation and the meaning of life. Only by penetrating the soul into his work, the teacher can successfully teach and have a connection with students. If comfort and warmth reign in the class, it is easier to learn new, sometimes complex topics, and it is pleasant and easy for the teacher to work in such an environment.

I have devoted all my life to the teaching profession. I have worked at school for over thirty years. Since childhood, I dreamed of teaching children. My dream has come true. When I look at you, I understand that I have chosen the right profession. I am very pleased to see my successful graduates who have achieved their goals in life. I can feel their gratitude expressed by their kind faces. I understand that I have chosen the right profession. Pedagogy is my whole life!

At the holiday dedicated to Teacher's Day, we sang the song "Our Good Teacher." Each expressed gratitude to their first teacher. And I looked at Nina Aleksandrovna with tears in my eyes and said sincere "thanks" to her.

Years will pass. A lot will change. I will become an adult, master my favorite profession. But I will definitely return to my native land, I will come to the class where we sat at our desks, where we learned the ability to be human, learned from her, my beloved teacher Nina Aleksandrovna. I am grateful that on my life path I met just such a Teacher.

With my excellent studies, I confirm all the knowledge that my second mother put in me. I want her to be proud of me. I know that all the students who have ever studied with her love, remember and respect this wonderful and sincere person who, sparing no effort and time, patiently and persistently taught us. I want to end my essay with the wonderful lines of N.A. Nekrasov:

"Teacher, before your name

Let me kneel down mortally. "

The story of the first teacher. Vera Prokhorovna Bessonova.Memories of school. Congratulations on September 1. Gennady Lyubashevsky.

Dear colleagues and friends!

The calendar summer ends. And I immediately recall the lines from the song: "Autumn is coming, August is outside the windows" ...

But we will remember the first day of autumn for the rest of our life precisely because we became first graders on September 1. Remember how it was?

Of course, each of us has our own memories, and the holiday - the Day of Knowledge - is common. Let us congratulate each other, our children and grandchildren on this wonderful holiday and once again remember our mentors who gave us a start in life.

Happy holiday everyone! Wish you new creative successes!

Teacher! Before your name

Let me kneel down humbly.

N. A. Nekrasov

"The first teacher" ... I wrote out these words on a blank sheet, slowly and carefully, as I once wrote letters in a school notebook for calligraphy. And he stopped. A hand hung over the sheet. What should I write about next? After all, I have long wanted to write about her - about her first teacher Vera Prokhorovna Bessonova... And now I can’t put together scraps of phrases and thoughts. I want to say so much, but words are not enough ...

My first teacher ... A person who is invisible, like a guardian angel, has always been and will be next to me, who largely determined my fate and the fate of my classmates. Thanks to her, we became friends back in 1956, cherish our friendship for over 55 years and will keep it as long as our hearts beat.

We called Vera Prokhorovna our second mother, and she addressed us only as “children”. These children have long become grandparents, but for her we have always remained children, her children. We often came to her in her small room in a communal apartment, and this room, like many years ago, was filled with our voices. We brought her photographs of our wives and husbands, our children and grandchildren. She knew everything about us, even what our parents sometimes did not know. We used to confide in her first our little children's secrets, and then our big adult secrets. We brought flowers to her for her birthday, on March 8, on Teacher's Day, and on Passover - matzo, which she called “Jewish bread” and ate instead of bread, because she had diabetes. Our classmates, who live in Israel or visit their relatives there, always brought drugs and sugar substitutes from there and did not forget to carefully peel off the price labels. We could afford much more, but she herself did not allow us to. Only once, when Vera Prokhorovna turned 80, we gathered not at her house, but in a cafe and brought our teacher there in a big black car. Then, in 2003, her anniversary coincided with Teacher's Day. At the festive table, we, the former kids whom she taught from 1956 to 1960, uttered so many good words to her that the waitress later confessed: "I listened and cried."

From childhood, we knew by heart all the nooks and crannies of her yard and the number of steps along which we climbed to the top, fifth floor. Some of us were lucky enough to climb the steps of the ladder of life to the very top, someone reached the middle, and someone stumbled and stayed far below. So life ordered it. But none of us have ever felt this difference - this is how she taught us. We were equal before her and before each other: Olympic champion Yura Lagutin and locksmith Arkasha Kolyada, head of the Lenin district administration Vova Kiyanitsa and hairdresser Sveta Kovalyova, honored coach of Ukraine Lyonya Tsybulsky and blacksmith Zhenya Mishevsky, artists Vova Gorodissky and Tolik Nepokupny, lawyer Vova Tolik Nepokupny Vitya Denisov, who violated the law, but still not rejected by us. We have always been children for her. Maybe because Vera Prokhorovna, a very young woman, lost her only 3-year-old son, she was so drawn to us, her boys and girls. Or maybe she had a very big heart ...

All of us, future first graders, lived near our school - the old school №2, which in 2005 turned 100 years old. In this school, Vera Prokhorovna worked as a primary school teacher from 1949 until her retirement. The building in which our school used to be, and now stands between the church and Heroes of Stalingrad Street in the Small Market area. Then this street was called Shkolnaya. There were only 8 classrooms for 33 classrooms in the building. In one corner of the corridor there is a library, in the other - a corner where lessons in labor, singing, and drawing were held. The toilet is outside. The building is cold. But a large courtyard, where we played football during breaks and after school.

The last summer days of distant 1956 ... School soon. But you can still run around the streets for several days, look over the fence into the neighbor's garden, tease the dog, or sit on the seat of the lorry on which the neighbor came home to have lunch. Our settlement with crooked streets (even the neighboring lane was called Krivoy) and old rickety houses from the times of pre-revolutionary Aleksandrovsk, a flea market, popularly called Tucha, the raids of boys at the Zaporizhstal copra shop, where among the scrap metal one could easily find weapons from the times of an unforgotten war. We did not always have a well-fed, but happy childhood. There was no pile of stone boxes around and no asphalt underfoot. And the boys did not play computer games, but football, "knives" or "knock-out", tossed a piece of fur with a lead load - a "beacon" and considered who would "fill" more. And some of the older guys were already casting brass knuckles from lead. And the apple plucked from the branch smelled like an apple, not overseas devilry, and one barrel of the apple was warmer than the other, because the sun warmed it. In a pile of sand one could find a coin of 1736 with the strange name "denga", and in the attic - a pipe from a gramophone and a pre-revolutionary edition of Lermontov's poems. The whole family went to the cinema in the order of things, and then there were simply no televisions.

Our family was seriously engaged in raising children. And the fact that the boy could read and write long before entering the first grade, played chess with his dad, and painted with his mother, was considered in our home in the order of things. One of the August days, when Vera Prokhorovna bypassed her future pets, got to know them and their families, I was able to demonstrate my abilities to her. And our family became close to Vera Prokhorovna for many, many years. How many years have passed since that memorable day, and my dad never forgot to call Vera Prokhorovna, congratulate her on the holiday, inquire about her health. And I did the same.

And then came this long-awaited day - September 1! Already lie on the chair are the striped Swedeshka ironed by her mother, and black trousers on the straps, which for some reason my grandmother called “harnesses”. And grandfather walks with a pruner around a huge bush of dahlias and chooses the most beautiful ones. Dad is taking me to school. From this day on, this is his area of \u200b\u200bresponsibility. Dad, throughout the years of study, in all the schools where my brother and I stayed, was on the parent committee. Naturally, I also later became the chairman of the parent committee at the school where my daughter studied. How could it be otherwise?

The schoolyard is full of people, buried in flowers. And here is our teacher. Very young, stately, beautiful. She pins each of us on a paper diamond on which is written 1 "A". That's it, we are already first graders! First, as usual, a short meeting, then they take us to take pictures. Here is this photo. Our whole class. My dear classmates. People not from an electronic site, but from life. The photo shows that life was not at all easy for many families: the children are dressed, albeit festively, but modestly. Only some of the girls have white aprons and white satin bows. And everyone has a tense expectation on their face. What will happen to all of us tomorrow, the day after tomorrow? We sit around our teacher like little chicks. How young we were...

We studied together with Vera Prokhorovna for only four years. Four years of elementary school and a lifetime. Our first teacher belonged to that tribe of selfless and boundlessly devoted to their profession people who are called "invisible heroes." Hundreds of students grew up before her eyes, they calmly and confidently entered adulthood, and the children of many of them came to school for the same Vera Prokhorovna. In each, she was able to discern individuality and hidden talent. In one of the first lessons, Vera Prokhorovna handed out a piece of paper to us and said: "Draw what you know how." Boys drew airplanes and cars, girls - dolls and houses. And Vova Kiyanitsa drew such a tank that everyone gasped. The teacher took him, Tolya Nepokupny and Vova Gorodissky by the hands and took him to the art studio of the Palace of Pioneers. Gorodissky and Nepokupny did become professional artists (Volodya was even an honored artist of Ukraine), I also went to the art studio to see Ivan Fedorovich Fedyanin, but Kiyanitsa and I were not able to become artists.

All the boys wanted to play sports, until dark they played ball in the schoolyard. I was smaller than the others and usually took a seat at the gate. Then came the time to get involved in sambo wrestling. An example for us was the famous Cybul dynasty in the city. One of its representatives was our classmate Lyonya. (We are sitting next to him in our first shared photo). And we lived side by side. Lyonya has always been a person of the broadest soul and exceptional charm. And he achieved great success in sports, became a famous judo coach. The future Olympic handball champion Yura Lagutin, Volodya Maryanovsky, and many of our other boys also tied their lives to sports. And Vera Prokhorovna put a particle of her soul into all of us.

It would seem that she taught us according to the same school curriculum as other teachers. And, nevertheless, there was some secret that the most noisy and reckless suburban boys sat in her lessons decorously and quietly, eagerly catching her every word. Of course, we weren't angels. But for each of us, Vera Prokhorovna had her own, special approach, for each she found her own, special words. I was really like my mother. And we tried to repay her with our love, to show childishly naive, but sincere signs of attention. Vera Prokhorovna had pain in her arms, which had been chilled since the war, when she was taken to Germany as a girl. She managed to escape from the camp, but the memory of the war remained for life. And then one day she asked us to catch bees for her (someone advised her to be treated with bee venom). The next morning, most of the class showed up for class with match boxes, from which the bass hum of small insects was heard, and proudly piled a pile of boxes on the teacher's table. A small but vivid fact from our daily life. Our beloved teacher lived this life with us, taught her pupils, as they said then, to master knowledge and engage in socially useful work, and not just for show, but seriously, for real. Whether it was a collection of waste paper, or scrap metal, a trip to the Kakhovskoe Sea or the first ride on an airplane in my life, she was always with us.

Of course, the children had different abilities and inclinations. But Vera Prokhorovna in some incomprehensible way was able to discern in each of us the main thing that then determined our future destiny.

We had a lot of funny situations in our lessons. I remember the case with Yura Lagutin. There was a dictation in the Ukrainian language, Vera Prokhorovna, in her clearly delivered “teacher's” voice, pronounced word by word, after each word followed: “coma” (in Russian “comma”), and Yura conscientiously entered into the notebook every word from the dictation plus the word “ coma "... We then made fun of it a lot. Nevertheless, this did not prevent Yura from becoming the Olympic handball champion in 1972 in Munich. Alas, the consequences of a serious trauma led to his premature death ...

Since I remembered Yura, I will also tell you that one day, when I visited our classmate and his cousin Ira, I saw on the wall a painting depicting Pushkin, mortally wounded in a duel. For several minutes I stood by a small canvas, amazed at how the artist conveyed the suffering of the great poet. The author of the picture was Ira's father, an amateur artist. This picture still stands before my eyes ...

Our class was international. But we all, regardless of nationality, felt like in one big family. And this is the undoubted merit of our first teacher. For the rest of my life I have remembered the words of Vera Prokhorovna, once said at the “class hour”: “Children! Igor Gipsman is a Jew by nationality, Valya Tavtelev is a Tatar, Vera Yatselenko is a Ukrainian, Vitya Denisov is a Russian. But we all live in a country called the Soviet Union, and we are all equal citizens of this great country, regardless of who has what nationality. You should be friends with each other and help each other. " Prophetic words of a great woman and great Teacher! We still remember them sacredly. We will always remember. We will pass it on to children and grandchildren. And on a mournful autumn day in 2008, we - her children - came to see our beloved teacher on the last journey. Our multicultural class.

The last time we went into her room, where our photographs hung on the walls, and where our cheerful voices will never sound. The last time we stood at her entrance, hiding from the piercing wind and not hiding our wet eyes from each other. And when the coffin was taken out of the entrance, a man suddenly came out from behind the tree, strange, as if incorporeal and detached from the world. Poorly dressed, in some kind of ridiculous short coat, on his hands - thread gloves with cut off fingers, under his arm - something wrapped in a rag. Nobody had seen him before. He seemed to come out of thin air. The stranger unfolded a rag and ... brought the violin to his shoulder. I have heard and seen many great musicians. But I have never heard such an extraordinary performance. Perhaps the Lord sent his angel to us to receive the soul of our teacher to the divine sounds of the violin. The melody of Sviridov sounded from the music to Pushkin's story "Snowstorm".

Municipal educational institution

"Alekseevskaya secondary school"

The writing

"My first teacher"

Work completed:

Home address:

with. Alekseevka, per. Siberian - 13.

School address:

Altai region,

Petropavlovsk district,

with. Alekseevka, st. Central - 14;

telephone: 21 – 3 – 98.

with. Alekseevka

You have opened doors for us to a big life,
You taught us not only the alphabet.
Teacher! We love you, we believe you!
We received lessons from kindness!

N. Ivanova.

The teaching profession at all times remained the most honorable, but at the same time the most difficult. The ability to pass on your experience to children who are just entering an independent life is a talent.

I am in the third grade of a secondary school in the village of Alekseevka. Our school has many excellent teachers. And about each of them one could write an essay. I appreciate all of them, respect, sometimes regret. But the most significant mark in my so far not too long life was left by the first teacher -.

I met her when I came to school for the first time in the first grade. The first of September 2009 was a special day for me. And not only because I was going to first grade, but also because I was going to my first teacher. Of course, I carefully prepared for this event, but I was still very worried. My parents, grandmothers and older brother Denis were worried with me. They all accompanied me to school life. Mom brought me to the cozy and best class in the school. I gave Lyudmila Nikolaevna a bouquet, she hugged me, took my hand and the excitement disappeared somewhere. So I found a second mother.

The most memorable first lesson began. The teacher's gaze was directed at each of us individually, but at the same time she saw the whole class at once. In those few minutes when Lyudmila Nikolaevna silently, with a barely noticeable smile, looked around us, the feeling was created that she had time to penetrate into the soul of each student, study his character, hear his thoughts. Everyone involuntarily fell silent. Her voice sounded clear and clear.

From day to day I reveal more and more new qualities in Lyudmila Nikolaevna. First, she is an experienced teacher. No one can refute this fact. Secondly, Lyudmila Nikolaevna is a wonderful person. A teacher should be kind and strict, demanding and forgiving, funny and serious at the same time. Lyudmila Nikolaevna manages to combine all these qualities.

Cheerful and at the same time strict, kind and demanding, she instantly became my best friend. Gradually, I began to become more and more attached to her, and she also fell in love with all of us. Lyudmila Nikolaevna teaches us not only literacy, writing, but also respectful attitude to each other, seriousness in important matters, hard work, friendship. She helps us overcome difficulties.

I really love to study! During the holidays I always miss school. Of course, this is largely the merit of my first teacher. I like to learn new things, face problems and find ways to solve them, answer questions that arise. This is also thanks to Lyudmila Nikolaevna.

And how caring she is! Come to the rescue in difficult times, comfort, cheer, suggest the right decision, reconcile those who are in a quarrel, scold those who are guilty - and all this from a pure heart, with the most necessary words and the kindest eyes in the world.

And what an inventor Lyudmila Nikolaevna is! Parents, grandparents, uncles and aunts, brothers and sisters gladly come to our extracurricular activities. How always interesting! Contests, competitions, relay races, concerts, conversations - what was not there! And Lyudmila Nikolaevna knows how to surprise, captivate, stir up, make everyone laugh and make them happy.

My first teacher, like me, was born in our village. Even at school, she dreamed of working with children. Therefore, after graduating from the pedagogical institute, she came to work at the school, in which she herself once studied for 10 years. The teacher is not so much a vocation, not so much talent, giftedness, but rather fate. One person is given such a fate, another is not. The profession of a teacher requires from a person all his strength and abilities without a trace. This is a ministry that knows no vacations or changes. The work of a teacher surprisingly combines the youth of the soul and the wisdom of words, everyday hard work and the daily celebration of the victory of knowledge. The teacher walks the path of knowledge all his life, never tired of teaching, learning, making discoveries and wondering at the world. And I am unspeakably glad that just such a teacher, real, sincere, sensitive, wise, carrying a spark of knowledge and the joy of discovering something new, met me at the very beginning of my school path.

Over the years, Lyudmila Nikolaevna has become a Teacher with a capital letter. It is not for nothing that parents bring their second, third children to her, and if to tell a secret, then grandparents bring their grandchildren. So my older brother Denis also studied with Lyudmila Nikolaevna. My mother sent me to study even earlier from the age of 6, only to get into the good hands of Lyudmila Nikolaevna.

Being a teacher is very responsible. After all, it is from him that we receive the knowledge that we use in the future. And this knowledge must be true, deep and useful. It seems to me that every teacher wants his student to achieve great success in the study of his subject and even surpass his teacher in adult life. This will be the best gift and will mean that the teacher was able to teach everything that he himself can do. The proof of these words are dozens of letters, diplomas, titles of her students at regional, regional and even all-Russian competitions.

The most important joy for a teacher, in my opinion, is the gratitude of the students. I want to say a huge thank you to Lyudmila Nikolaevna Prokopyeva for everything she does for us, for the fact that she, sparing no effort and time, patiently and persistently puts into our little children's heads the knowledge that will always be useful to us in life, teaches us to be honest, patient and kind. When you come to her lesson, you are charged with positive emotions. It helps us find something in life, find the path that will help us discover our best qualities in ourselves. Lyudmila Nikolaevna give us what not every teacher can give: the warmth of the soul, the joy of meeting, kindness, a radiant and bright smile. I am sure that all the students who have ever studied with her love, remember and respect this wonderful and sincere person. And I am very glad that on my life path I met just such a person.

Lyudmila Nikolaevna gives us the most important lessons - life lessons. She will remain in my heart a kind, gentle and sympathetic person. I will always remember her. After all, my achievements are her merit.

Nomination "About pedagogy - with love"

Teacher is one of the most ancient professions on earth. Many good warm words have been said about teachers, many songs and poems have been composed about them. The teacher's image is always bright. The image of the first teacher especially sinks into the heart. And for good reason!

The words from the song "My first teacher ..." have long become an aphorism. Among the many wonderful teachers who work with children at school, a special place is given to her - the first teacher. Children always remember their first teacher with warmth. Why? I will tell you about one such teacher, and draw your own conclusions.

The little man who crosses the threshold of the school needs a good friend and mentor so much! Someone who will help him overcome the fear of the unknown that is waiting for the baby there, beyond the school threshold! Someone who will help make a very important discovery, whose name is KNOWLEDGE.

This is the kind of teacher I want to tell you about. Petrova Marina Stepanovna has been working at the school for 27 years. Many of her students have already graduated from school. Some of them brought their children to this teacher.

Marina Stepanovna tries to give her students not only knowledge. She seeks to instill in them such human qualities as honesty, kindness, decency. Kids are drawn to Marina Stepanovna and love her. For everyone she has a word of consolation, she will cheer everyone up and regret it. Like a sun that warms even the smallest blade of grass on earth, Marina Stepanovna endows her pupils with her spiritual warmth.

She helps children to reveal their personal potential, to feel happy from the knowledge that there is always an understanding adult friend, a teacher, who helps to see and develop in children the inclinations of abilities that are inherent in nature. For this person, it is important to reveal the inner world of each child, his personal qualities.

I believe that our children were very lucky: they met a teacher who believed in their talent, their abilities, opened the door to the world of children's feelings, thoughts, relationships, perceptions. More than once, the students of our class took part in creative contests of various levels. More than once they justified the trust of their teacher, confirming their knowledge.

In our small school, Marina Stepanovna became the first teacher to win the competition for the best teachers of the Russian Federation, which is held within the framework of the national project "Education". Most recently, she was awarded the title of Veteran of Labor. In addition, she was awarded many times with certificates of honor and letters of thanks for her conscientious work. But the most honorable reward for her is the love of her students. And this love, like a pure source, will never run out.

I want to tell you about my teacher.

There is a small school in our village with the best teachers. They all love their students, as we love them. But each of us has a teacher to whom the student treats differently from others.

The best teacher for me is my class teacher. Maybe - this is because she really belongs to us more dear, but she loves everyone equally.

Maria Mikhailovna is an amazing person. Her smile never leaves her face, she is always cheerful and energetic. I especially like it when she walks into the classroom and says: "Hello my dears!" These are the warmest and frank words of the teacher, from which the students feel good at heart. Maybe she warms us with her kindness and affection, so we are surprisingly pleased to be with her. And during the time spent with her, you get a drop of happiness and pleasure. She is like a mother to us, who always supports and loves us, protects us like her children. Only with her you always want to laugh and be happy about something.

We must respect and value the work of every teacher. After all, they open the door for us to the future, sowing reasonable, good, eternal, and we must always remember this.

Zuikova Tatiana.

OUR COOL.

THE COOLEST.

In our seventh grade, the class teacher is. She teaches Russian language and literature. She has been working with us for almost three years. During this time, Maria Mikhailovna became our mother, friend, irreplaceable person. We turn to her on various issues, and for each of us she has time, words, support.

We spend most of our time at school. And our Maria Mikhailovna is with us. She has been teaching at school for a long time. She has extensive experience working with children, parents, colleagues.

Maria Mikhailovna conducts all school activities with us, gives advice, for us she is a close, dear person.

Maria Mikhailovna is a very good hostess. Her house is always clean and comfortable. She is a good cook. We were treated to a delicious homemade cake. She really loves flowers. We have a lot of them in our class, like in a botanical garden.

Maria Mikhailovna has no favorites. Which is not unimportant for us. We are all the same to her. For this we love her.

The work of a teacher is difficult, you need to give all of yourself to the children. And she gives. Here is our cool one. She's very cool!

This poem is dedicated to Maria Mikhailovna:

Teacher, for his life, as one,

You dedicate to the school family.

You are everyone who came to study with you,

You call them your children.

But children grow up, from the school bench

They walk the roads of life

And in memory they carry your lessons,

And they keep you in your heart.

Beloved teacher, dear person,

Be the happiest in the world

Though sometimes it is difficult for you

Your naughty children.

You rewarded us with friendship and knowledge,

Please accept our thanks!

We remember how you brought us into people

From timid funny first graders.

M. Sadovsky.

Work completed

7th grade student

October school