Grandmothers

                Grandmothers
               
Today, I want to discuss grandmothers, young and old. I remembered how, while I was working as a Russian language teacher, I taught the students about the appearance of a person. I made a lesson plan, asking students e.g., who was the person in a picture, what was his name, how they looked, their hair color, their eye color, what their face looked like, what clothes they were wearing, etc. Then, the students had to write a small essay describing anyone who they knew, using their new vocabulary.
The class went well; the children gladly described their friends and relatives. Once the lesson had ended, I decided to go on a break to the teachers’ lounge to check for any schedule changes, and peeked into the head teacher’s office. Tamara Mikhailovna Homhotko—a prominent and pleasant woman, was sitting thoughtfully at her desk; seeing me, she was delighted and said that she was going to come to visit my class. I got a little nervous and started thinking about how I might be able to amaze her. So, I ran to my closet (where I kept handouts), quickly found a picture of an elderly woman, attached it to the blackboard, and waited for Tamara. Students actively participated in the description of the appearance of the grandmother. We paid attention to the wrinkles on her face, her kind look, the wisdom and life experience of a woman, her worn hands, and the simple clothes of an old woman.
Tamara Mikhailovna carefully wrote something down, then walked around the study and checked the notes in the students' notebooks. She  rewrote my lesson plan, copied all the words and sentences from the board. Her expression was a little strange; I tried to understand why the administrator did not like my lesson.
At last, the bell rang. All the children ran out to change classes, but Tamara Mikhailovna was still sitting at a desk. “Well,” I think, “did she really decide to stay for another class?” But then, she got up and came to me. And I see that the sentimental woman was wiping away tears. I ask, “What happened?”
And what do you think she answered? She says: “I did not know that your mother looks like that, you described her with such soul, and the children supported you! I even shed a tear! I wrote down everything in my notebook. Now I’m going to do the same lesson—give me this picture!” And that’s how you describe a person!

To Grandma, only Grandpa is not her grandson.
[Ed. Note: a grandma treats everyone like her grandson.]
— Popular proverb

My grandson Daniel Rabinovich tells:
     After school, I come to my grandmother's house and always smell something delicious cooking in the kitchen. Sometimes, my grandma is talking with her friends or relatives on Skype; I hear her quiet and polite voice. My mood always improves—after all, I was in school all day, among noisy and restless students, and got stressed. In my grandparents’ house, there is always a calm atmosphere; I rest, relax, and pleasantly eat a delicious meal. My grandmother sits next to me, asks me how my school day went, how my friends are, and what interesting things I learned. Here, I feel at home!
               
My grandmother is tall, her dark hair is short, her eyes are brown, and she has a pleasant smile. Her name is Raisa Mikhailovna. She worked in high school in Ukraine and in America for over 40 years and also taught Russians to Americans at her home. Now, her favorite pastime is to write stories about her family, her students, about us, her beloved children and grandchildren. She has a great sense of humor and a good memory—her memories of the past are very interesting. My brother and I learned a lot from these stories. I really like to read my grandmother’s books in Russian (and there are already 5 of them!).
I will always remember my grandmother Raya and her stories, from which I learned so much.
               
               
         

I had thought that I’d finished writing my story, “Grandmothers,” but today, after a couple weeks, I suddenly realized that the ending must be different!
Last week, something bad happened: my lower front tooth broke. The dentist said that I could not keep it; it must be urgently removed. I agreed and felt well at first—I even went over to a friend’s house that day. The next morning, though, I found a huge bruise under my lip on my chin! The “Bodiaga” cream came to the rescue [Ed. note: not a sponsor.]. My bruise only went down by a little over the past week, and finally today I was able to see the doctor. He said that I should not worry—it happens to many patients. That calmed me down! And then a nurse entered the room; she also began to reassure me. She told me that they had recently seen a very, very old woman—over 70! She had  bruises all over her chin, but she was OK! I was shocked… I’m turning 71 this year, after all! Do I really look younger than that old lady?! The nurse herself looks about 60-65 years old!
I glanced in the mirror, but it’s not a good thing—it shows my mature age!
So, there you are: grandmothers; all of them are different!