For the Good of the Cause (4 page)

“That didn’t take long, did it?”

“No. They dug two holes with power shovels and put in the foundations for the school building and the dormitory. They got as far as building one story and then everything came to a stop. For, the next three years there was never any money. During all those changes in Moscow we were always overlooked—whether they split up the ministries or amalgamated them, we were always ignored. And the snow and rain didn’t help either. But now they’ve set up these economic councils (The organizations created by Khrushchev for local economic planning as a reaction to the excessive centralization under Stalin) and the one we come under gave us some money on the first of June last year, and …”

“Dusya, open the window. These men! They really filled the room with smoke!”

“Do we have to go outside every time we want to smoke?”

“Well, that’s not what the teachers’ room is for.”

“What jobs did you do on the building site?”

“Oh, all sorts of things, like digging the ditches for the boiler room.”

“As a matter of fact, we dug all the ditches. For the electric mains, and …
And
we filled them all in again.”

“And unloaded bricks from the trucks and stacked them in the hoist. And we cleared the eanh out of the foundations.”

“And we removed all the trash, brought up all the stuff for the central heating and the flooring, and then we did a lot of cleaning up and scrubbing.”

“So actually the builders only had to send skilled men, no laborers?”

“As a matter of fact, we even trained some of the boys and girls to do skilled jobs. We had two teams of learners: plasterers and painters. They were really good at it. It was a pleasure watching them.”

“Where’s that singing coming from? Outside?”

We’re sick and tired of darkness and gloom
We’ll put TV in every room
With diodes, triodes, and tetrodes, too
We’ll make bigger and better tubes for you!

“Without even looking I can tell that it’s one of the third-year classes.”

“They’re good, aren’t they? I’d like to get a look at them. Can we see them from the window?”

“Come over here. Marianna Kazimirovna, could you just move your chair a little?”

“… Don’t you believe it! The latest fashion is the ‘barrel’ line. Haven’t you seen it? It’s fitted in the waist, then it widens, then it narrows again, and then tapers down to mid-calf…”

“… I know another lake a little further away. You ought to see the carp I’ve caught there!”

“Lidia, watch where you’re going. There are people sitting here.”

“Here we are, Anatoli Germanovich. Just lean out. See that bunch of boys and girls?”

In airplanes, sputniks, and everywhere
Our vacuum tubes have found their place
Here on earth and up in space
Electronics sets the pace!

“They sure are enthusiastic. You can see they really mean it.”

“They’re so proud of that song: ‘The Electronics Anthem.’ They wrote it themselves and they do it so well. They even won the second prize in a local contest. Look! Only the girls are singing. The boys just stood there like this in the contest too, but they do come in on the chorus at the top of their voices.”

“I’ll tell you why I’m watching them like this. You see, I’m rather nervous because I’m used to teaching grownups. I once gave a lecture—‘The Progress of Science and Technology’—at my son’s school, and I couldn’t get them to pay attention I nearly died of embarrassment. No matter what I did, I couldn’t get them to pay attention. The principal pounded the table, but not even he could make them listen. My son told me afterward that they locked the cloakroom and nobody was allowed to go home. He said they often do that when there are visiting delegations or special events. So, to get even, the kids just keep talking.”

“But you can’t compare that with a technical school. Things are quite different here. We don’t have any of those types with more money than brains who are just passing their time. And the principal here has greater powers because of scholarships and dormitory places… Though actually we’ve never had a dormitory in our seven years and they have to get private accommodations.”

“Does the school pay for them?”

“The school gives them thirty rubles each—that’s the standard rate and it’s supposed to be enough. But a bed costs a hundred rubles a month—a hundred and fifty for something a little better. So some of them rent one bed for two. And they live like that for years. Of course they’re fed up… You seemed a bit skeptical about our enthusiasm. There’s nothing to be skeptical about. We are just tired of living badly. We want to live well! Isn’t that why people did voluntary work on Sundays in Lenin’s time?”

“True.”

“Well, that’s what we’ve been doing… There they are. Look out the window.”

… bigger and better tubes for you!

“How far is it from here into town?”

“About half a mile.”

“But they still have to walk that half a mile. And a lot of them have to do it twice a day each way. And although it’s summer and we haven’t had any rain for three days, we’re still knee-deep in mud. We just can’t ever dress up. We have to wear boots all the time. Long after the streets in town are nice and dry we still get absolutely filthy.”

… up in space

“So we had a meeting and talked things over: How much longer were we supposed to go on suffering? You should see the miserable little holes where we have classes. And there’s no room for social activities. I think that’s what bothers the students most of all.”

… sets the pace!

“Lidia Georgievna! Ma’am!”

“Here I am!”

“We must see you. Can you spare a moment?”

“I’ll be right there… Excuse me.”

“… He really scored a great goal-with his back to the goal post and over the head, from the penalty line-right under the crossbar.”

“… This can’t be your hat! That style went out ages ago. The hats they’re wearing now look like flower pots upside down.”

“… Marianna Kazimirovna, can I bother you for a moment? …”

“… I’m hoping to get part of the basement for a rifle range. I’ve already told the boys.”

“… I’m not leaving, Grigori Lavrentyevich. I’ll be outside, on the stairs…”

“Now who wanted to see me? Hello! How are you? It’s so good to see all of you!”

“Congratulations, ma’am!”

“And congratulations to you.” Lidia raised her hand and waved to them. “You’ve really earned it! Good for you and welcome back! In our new building!”

“Hooray!!!”

“Who’s that over there trying so hard to keep out of my sight? Lina? You’ve cut your hair! Why? It was so lovely.”

“Nobody wears long hair any more.”

“The things you girls will do just to be in style.”

Lidia, wearing a blue-green tailored suit and black blouse, looked neat and trim. She had a friendly, open face. Standing on the landing outside the teachers’ room, she studied the young people crowding around her from the narrow passage and staircase. Usually there wasn’t much light here, but on this sunny day there was enough to see the details of the students’ clothes. There were scarves, kerchiefs, blouses, dresses, and cowboy shirts of every color and shade-white, yellow, pink, red, blue, green, and brown-dots and designs, stripes and checks, and plain solid colors.

The girls and the boys tried not to stand too close to each other. Pressed together in their own group, they rested their chins on the shoulders of those in front, craning their necks so as to see better. They all had happy, shining faces, and there was a buzz of excitement as they looked expectantly at Lidia.

She looked around and noticed that most of the girls had changed their hair styles during the summer. There were still a few who had old-fashioned braids tied with colored ribbons, and a few with simple center parts or not quite so simple curls brushed to one side. But most of them had those seemingly uncared for, casual, untidy, but by no means artless hairdos, from pure blond to jet black. And the boys—the short and the tall, the fat and the thin—all wore gaudy, open-necked shirts. Some had their hair brushed forward, others wore it carefully brushed back or had crew cuts.

None of the very young students were here. But even the oldest were not yet beyond that tender, impressionable age at which the best in them could be brought out. Their faces mirrored that special eagerness.

The minute Lidia came out of the room, she was overwhelmed by those trusting eyes and smiles. It was the supreme reward of the teacher: students crowding around you eagerly like this.

They could not have said what it was they saw in her. It was just that, being young, they responded to everything genuine. You only had to take one look at her to know that she meant what she said. And they had gotten to know and like her even more during those months on the building site when she came, not dressed up, but in working clothes and a kerchief. She had never tried to order them around. She would never have asked anyone to do something she would not do herself. She had scrubbed, raked, and carried things together with the girls.

And although she was nearly thirty and married and had a two-year-old daughter, all the students called her Lidia, though not to her face, and the boys were only too proud to run errands for her. She always accompanied her instructions with a slight but commanding gesture, sometimes—and this was a sign of great trust—with a light tap on the shoulder.

“When are we going to move, Lidia Georgievna?”

“Yes, when?”

“Come now, we’ve waited so long, surely we can wait another twenty minutes. The principal will be back any minute.”

“But why haven’t we moved already?”

“Oh, a few little things still have to be done there …”

“Always the same old story.”

“We could put the finishing touches on ourselves if they’d just let us in.”

A well-built youth from the Komsomol Committee in a red-and-brown checked shirt, the one who had called Lidia out of the teachers’ room, said to her: “But we must discuss the details of the move. Who is going to be responsible for what?”

“Well, I thought of doing it like this …”

“Quiet, you guys!”

“My idea is to have a couple of trucks move the machinery and the heavy stuff. I’m sure we are quite capable of carrying the rest ourselves, like ants. After all, how far is it? … What do you think the distance is?”

“About a mile.”

“It’s fifteen hundred yards—I measured it.”

“What did you measure it with?”

“With the gadget on my bike.”

“Must we really have those trucks if it takes a week to get them? There are nine hundred of us. Couldn’t we get all the stuff moved in a day ourselves?”

“Of
course
we can!”

“Sure!”

“Let’s start right away. Then we can use this place as a dorm.”

“The sooner the better, before we get rain.”

“Now tell me, Igor”—Lidia tapped the young man in the red-and-brown shirt on the chest (like a general taking a medal from his pocket and firmly pinning it on � soldier)—“who’s here from the Committee?”

“Practically everybody. Some of them are outside.”

“All right, then. All of you get together right away, split up into groups, and make a list of them—but legibly, please! Put down the number of people in each group and decide who will take on which laboratories and which classrooms, depending on the weight of the equipment. And, as far as possible, organize yourselves by classes, but be sure that nobody takes on more than he can manage. When that’s done, we’ll show the plan to the principal, get it approved, and then put a teacher in charge of each group.”

“Very good, ma’am,” said Igor, standing at attention. “And this is the last time we’ll have to meet in a corridor. Over there we’ll have our own room. Hey, Committee members! Where should we meet?”

“Let’s all go outside,” Lidia proposed. “That way we’ll see Fyodor Mikheyevich as soon as he gets back.”

They made their way noisily down the stairs and out to the street, leaving the staircase empty.

Outside, on the lot in front of the school, with its scattered, stunted trees, another couple of hundred young people were waiting. The third-year students from the vacuum-tube department were still standing around in a huddle, and the girls, arm in arm and looking at each other, were still singing:

… bigger and better tubes for you!

The younger ones were playing tag. Whenever anyone was caught, they let him have it between the shoulders.

“Why are you hitting me on the back like that?” a plump little girl asked indignantly.

“Not on the back, on the backside!” retorted a young man with a cap pulled down on his forehead and a deflated volley ball tucked in his belt. But when he saw Lidia Georgievna shaking a finger at him he sniggered and ran off.

There were even younger students, just turned fourteen, standing around in groups. They were neatly dressed and rather shy, taking in everything very carefully.

Some of the boys had brought their bicycles and were giving the girls rides on the handlebars.

Fluffy white clouds looking like whipped cream sailed across the sky. At times they hid the sun.

“As long as it doesn’t rain,” the girls said wistfully.

Three fourth-year students from the radio department—two girls and a boy—were talking together in a separate group. The girls’ blouses were of a simple, striped material, but the boy’s bright yellow shirt had wild designs of palm trees, ships, and sailboats. Lidia was struck by this contrast, and something that had been puzzling her for a long time went through her mind. In her youth, her older brothers, and the boys of her own age dressed rather simply, even drably; it was the girls who went in for bold colors and styles, as was only natural. But for some time now a great rivalry had been going on: Boys had begun to dress with greater care and even more gaudily and colorfully than girls, wearing loudly colored socks, as though it was not up to them to do the courting but to be courted. And the girls seemed to take them by the arm more often than they did the girls. Lidia was vaguely troubled by this odd behavior, because she feared that the boys were losing something of great importance to them.