Chapter 30

August 10, 1981 Moscow

After I spent a couple of days of catching up on sleep and with my family, I ventured out on my own. I took my bicycle, and rode over to the school where I'd be starting in a couple of weeks. There were some boys and girls playing soccer or football, as they called it.

When I stopped to watch, it seems that my bicycle drew their attention. After five minutes, one of the guys who saw me watching asked if I wanted to play. I said sure, but I told them that I wasn't very good at it. I could run, but my kicks weren't, as crisp and accurate, as theirs were. We talked in Russian a bit, as we played, but not much outside of the game itself.

After it was over, one of the girls said that I had a funny accent, and asked where I was from. I told her that I was from the United States. Once I said that, they had all kinds of questions about food, music, clothes, and school.

I told them that I had the same questions about Russia since I'd be living here. I found out that they only had eleven years of school in Russia. So to my surprise, I'd end up being a senior this year. Compared to the United States, where we went to school five days a week, in Russia, we'd go to school six days a week. They would need to test me to see where I fit in the school, and then they'd pick my classes.

The kids invited me back the next day if I wanted to play again. I told them that I'd be there. I told mom about the testing, and she said that she'd check on it in the morning. They had told her that I could go to the school, but she didn't know about the testing.

In the morning, we went to the school. We met with the Head Master, who's the equivalent of the Principal in the US. Initially, he welcomed us to his school. First, he gave us information on the education method in Russia. Then, he expressed his concern with me attending his school. He wasn't sure how well I'd do in their highly advanced education system. He'd heard stories about American schools, and how watered down they were about education.

They gave me a series of tests. When they shared the results, it turned out that I performed well on all the tests except for the Russian Literature portion. There were numerous stories from Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy, Bulgakov, Nabokov, and Pushkin on the list of authors. Truthfully, I think that I failed that portion. On the other portions, I did very well. It seems that my scores were good enough that they'd allow me to enter the higher college prep school. In school, my primary focus would be on mathematics. As for my schedule, it would include physics again, calculus, and differential equations. My remaining classes would be art history and Russian. So I'd have five classes, from eight in the morning until two each day, six days a week. Each class would meet for one hour each day. I'd use the last hour for lunch, and changing classes. After two, we'd have sports, or I could go home.

When we finished at the school, I made it out to the field, as they were just finishing their game. They asked me where I'd been. I explained that the Head Master had asked me to take a bunch of tests. When they had the results, I'd failed the literature portion of the tests. Almost all of them, except for one girl, laughed at me about the books on the list, and that I had no clue what they were. Olga was a Literature student, who greatly enjoyed the books. She stood up to defend them against the criticism of her friends.

I tried to smooth things over, so I said, "Pick one out, so I can read it. I'll let you know what I think."

Olga felt pleased that I'd try it, as a kid would try to eat broccoli for the first time. She told me that she'd bring me a book the next day. I'd ridden with mom to the school, so I had to walk home. Several of the other kids walked along with me in that direction. One lived just a couple of blocks from me in an apartment on the third floor over a small shop that looked empty compared to the stores in the states. His name was Alexi, and he would be a senior this coming year.

The next day I rode my bike over to the park. Since I'd thought ahead, I had it equipped with a clip to carry my Frisbee. I had it hanging vertically from the frame on the sloped part from the sprocket to the handlebars. This is where I'd normally hang a water bottle. As I stood beside my bike, I was spinning it on my finger when the first two kids walked up. I tossed it to one of them, and it turned out that they'd never thrown it before. I showed them the easiest throw, the backhand. After a few attempts, they started to learn the basics, and tossed it all right. When some other kids started to show up, we stopped playing Frisbee, and started to kick the ball around. We did this to warm up while we waited on some others to arrive.

When they picked teams, they picked me last. Then they placed me between the front line, and the defense, so I couldn't mess things up too bad. I ended up doing a good job of running, and getting in the way of the other team. I made one great kick to lead out one of my teammates, who then took it on the run, beat the goalie, and scored a goal.

Olga brought me Vladimir Nabokov's 1955 novel Lolita. I'd never heard of it, but told her that I'd read it. She gave me a smile, and told me to enjoy it. I started to read it later that evening. When my mother saw me with a book, she asked me what I was reading. When I showed her the book, she started to laugh.

"Of all the Great Russian classics you'd have thought that she'd start you with War and Peace, Crime and Punishment, or Anna Karenina. Instead, she picks a story about a man who went crazy with lust, for a little girl. I wonder what she hopes that your reaction will be."

"I don't know. I'll read it, and then find out."

"If you feel OK with it, you should invite her to the house. We have quite a library that we've collected over the years. I'd like to meet this girl."

I made it through the first third of the book. It was raining the next morning, so I didn't even think about soccer. Reading this Russian author in Russian helped me with the language. It turned out that the book was somewhat hot. Except for breaks at lunch and dinner, I sat in my room and read most of the day. I finished it later in the evening. I liked it, but then any man would enjoy a story that stirred his loins.

The next day, when I left for the game, I didn't take the book with me. I didn't want to carry a bag, or mess up the book when I rode my bike. After the game, I told her that I'd enjoyed the book. I said, "I didn't want to bring it on my bike today. I can bring it tomorrow, or my mom said that you could come by, and pick it up, and look through the library we have. It isn't all Russian authors, but there are many books if you want to borrow some."

"I'd like that, and we can talk about what you liked about the book."

The next afternoon we walked back to our apartment. She felt blown away by the things we had. She walked inside my room, saw three pairs of jeans, and almost had a fit. When she saw the shelves and shelves of books she wanted to sit down, and read them right then. She, and most of the kids, spoke and read English, but spoke in Russian when they were together.

She picked out two books from our shelves, and took her book back. When we sat in my room, it seemed to make her nervous. Because this was something that I was comfortable with from my time at boarding school, I didn't think twice about it. She asked where I got the jeans. I told her that I picked them up in New York, and that I could have some for her, if she wanted. I'd just need her size, and the style she wanted.

She didn't know her size by US standards, so I asked my mom to come upstairs. I explained that Olga wanted some jeans, but we didn't know the size. Mom just got a wicked smile, and led Olga away.

When Olga came back ten minutes later, she looked sad. Mom had offered her a pair of her jeans, but they were too small. So Mom took her measurements, and told her that she'd have a pair or two sent over for her.

What Olga didn't realize, was that when Mom measured her, she'd seen her underwear. Mom was upset that any woman would have to wear such ill fitted and worn out cotton rags. Since Mom already had her measurements, she also placed an order for some French-cut satiny under things. I guess she measured her all over, because when the package arrived a few days later, it also included a few bras.

The jeans looked good on her, but she was afraid of what her parents would say when she wore them, or washed them. That wasn't my problem. They let her have Lolita, so I figured that they were open-minded.

The next week we played soccer a couple of times. When Olga came by it was to change out her books. She always wanted to spend time talking about 'life in the west', as she called it. Her favorite topics were stores and food. She was like a sponge that couldn't absorb enough.

When the first day of school started, I looked at my schedule. I located and walked to my first class. Immediately I realized that first-period Calculus was not the class I wanted to start my day. I didn't see any of the kids I knew from playing soccer. So I just paid attention, as they handed out the books and the syllabus for the course. The teacher seemed very strict about what she expected. She assigned homework, and went through the first part of the first chapter. My differential equations class was next. I felt like my head would explode. The routine went on throughout the day. Thankfully, Alexi was in my Physics class, and Olga was in my last class of the day, Russian. The teacher gave us our first assignment. We were to write about something that we experienced over the summer.

When I started my assignment, I used my new word processor to prepare the report. I wrote about preparing for, and racing in the regatta with Todd. In the story, I wrote about the race and the strange reaction from the U.S. people, when I wore the USSR t-shirt. I even mentioned how the story appeared in a copy of the Sports Illustrated magazine.

While we were waiting for class to start, Olga asked to read my paper. Her eyes went big when she saw my perfect typing. Then, as she read the story, she got a tear in her eye. She read how I considered Moscow my new home, and that I was proud that I was living here even though my own countrymen booed me. She walked up, and showed it to the teacher.

The Teacher Mrs. Dubov said, "I think that we'll read our assignments for the class today."

I scowled at Olga, but she just smiled at me. We went alphabetically, and I was seventh out of our class of twenty. Most of the kids wrote about hanging out, or going on a trip with their families. I read my paper, and the class was quiet. The teacher asked if I had a copy of the magazine that I could bring in. I told her that I had a copy, but I might have some problems finding it after the move. She asked me to bring it in if I could find it.

When one of the kids asked a question, I kept looking to the teacher to tell me to sit down. But the kids wanted to know more about the race, and moving to the USSR. When a question came up about freedoms and capitalism, she told me to take my seat. We needed to move on.

As the rest of the class read their stories, I suddenly remembered something. The teachers in the USSR were similar to the teachers in the U. S. public schools in that the government hired and paid them. She didn't want me to start a revolt from her classroom. I had some kids come up after class, and introduce themselves, and one kid knew of a place to row.

Olga told me that we needed to sign up for sports. She was going out for soccer, but suggested that I pick something else, like basketball, because of my height. I saw that they had men's volleyball, and took a pass on the basketball. The coach, Coach Kargin, was a woman. She smiled at my height, and asked if I'd played before.

"I haven't played competitively on a team. But I've played in the park and with the girls at my old school."

She lost some of the smile, but nodded. She told me to meet her after school the next day in the gym. I ended up having a tutor sent in to help me understand, and move ahead in the higher math classes. Although I picked it up quickly, and didn't have much trouble, the new math, and the new language when combined, caused me to second-guess some things.

The volleyball team was good. They'd been playing together for a while, and knew what the others were capable of doing. We started with some warm-up drills, and then started with a scrimmage match to see how each person played and where they stood. The setter did not pass the ball to me the first three times in favor of his friend. Eventually though, he gave in, and set me. I jumped about ten feet up when I connected with the ball. You see, I could dunk a basketball, and that rim is just at ten feet.