Winter oak

The path went around a hazel bush, and the forest immediately spread out to the sides. In the middle of the clearing, in white sparkling clothes, huge and majestic, stood an oak tree. The trees seemed to respectfully part to allow the older brother to unfold in full force. Its lower branches spread out like a tent over the clearing. Snow had packed into the deep wrinkles of the bark, and the thick, three-girth trunk seemed stitched with silver threads. The foliage, having dried out in the autumn, almost did not fly off, and the oak tree was covered with leaves in snowy covers to the very top.

Anna Vasilievna timidly stepped towards the oak tree, and the magnanimous, powerful guardian of the forest swung a branch towards her.

“Anna Vasilyevna, look,” said Savushkin and with an effort he rolled away a block of snow with earth stuck to the bottom and the remains of rotten grass. There, in the hole, lay a ball wrapped in rotted leaves. Sharp needle tips stuck out through the leaves, and Anna Vasilyevna guessed that it was a hedgehog.

The boy continued to lead the teacher around his little world. The foot of the oak tree sheltered many more guests: beetles, lizards. boogers. Emaciated, they endured the winter in deep sleep. A strong tree overflowing with life has accumulated so much living warmth around itself that the poor animal could not have found a better apartment for itself.

Moving far away, Anna Vasilievna last time I looked back at the oak tree, white and pink in the sunset rays, and saw a small dark figure at its foot: Savushkin had not left, he was guarding his teacher from afar. And Anna Vasilievna suddenly realized that the most amazing thing in this forest was not the winter oak, but small man in worn felt boots, mended clothes, the son of a soldier who died for his homeland, a wonderful citizen of the future.

(According to Yu. Nagibin) 232 words

© Nagibina A. G., 1953–1971, 1988
© Tambovkin D. A., Nikolaeva N. A., illustrations, 1984
© Mazurin G. A., drawings on the binding, on the title, 2007, 2009
© Series design, compilation. OJSC Publishing House "Children's Literature", 2009

All rights reserved. No part of the electronic version of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, including posting on the Internet or corporate networks, for private or public use without the written permission of the copyright owner.

A story about yourself

I was born on April 3, 1920 in Moscow, near Chistye Prudy, in the family of an employee. When I was eight years old, my parents separated, and my mother married the writer Ya. S. Rykachev.
I owe to my mother not only the directly inherited character traits, but the fundamental qualities of my humanity and creative personality, invested in me in early childhood and strengthened by all subsequent education. These qualities: to be able to feel the preciousness of every minute of life, love for people, animals and plants.
IN literary teaching I owe everything to my stepfather. He only taught me to read good books and think about what you read.
We lived in the indigenous part of Moscow, surrounded by oak, maple, elm gardens and ancient churches. I was proud of my large house, which opened onto three lanes at once: Armenian, Sverchkov and Telegrafny.
Both my mother and stepfather hoped that I would turn out real man centuries: an engineer or scientist in the exact sciences, and they heavily stuffed me with books on chemistry, physics, popular biographies great scientists. For their own reassurance, I got test tubes, a flask, some chemicals, but all mine scientific activity boiled down to the fact that from time to time I cooked shoe polish of terrible quality. I did not know my path and was tormented by it.
But I felt more and more confident on the football field. The then coach of Lokomotiv, Frenchman Jules Limbeck, predicted a great future for me. He promised to introduce me to the double masters by the age of eighteen. But my mother did not want to accept this. Apparently, under her pressure, my stepfather increasingly convinced me to write something. Yes, this is how my life began artificially, not out of my own inevitable urge, but under pressure from outside. literary life.
I wrote a story about a ski trip we took as a class one weekend. My stepfather read it and said sadly: “Play football.” Of course, the story was bad, and yet I have every reason to believe that already in the first attempt my pillar was determined literary path: do not invent, but go straight from life - either current or past.
I understood my stepfather perfectly and did not try to challenge the scathing assessment hidden behind his gloomy joke. But the writing captured me. With deep surprise, I discovered how, from the very need to transfer onto paper the simple impressions of the day and the features of well-known people, all the experiences and observations associated with a simple walk strangely deepened and expanded. I saw my school friends and the unexpectedly complex, subtle and intricate pattern of their relationships in a new way. It turns out that writing is the comprehension of life.
And I continued to write, stubbornly, with gloomy bitterness, and my football star immediately set. My stepfather drove me to despair with his demandingness. Sometimes I began to hate words, but tearing me away from the paper was a difficult task.
Nevertheless, when I graduated from school, the powerful home press came into operation again, and instead of the literary department I ended up in the 1st Moscow medical institute. I resisted for a long time, but could not resist the seductive example of Chekhov, Veresaev, Bulgakov - doctors by training.
By inertia, I continued to study diligently, and studying at a medical university is the most difficult. There could be no talk of any writing now. I barely made it to the first session, and suddenly in the middle school year Admission to the screenwriting department of the film institute has opened. I rushed there.
I never finished VGIK. A few months after the start of the war, when the last carriage with institute property and students left for Alma-Ata, I moved in the opposite direction. Pretty decent knowledge German language solved my military fate. The Political Directorate of the Red Army sent me to the seventh department of the Political Directorate of the Volkhov Front. The seventh section is counter-propaganda.
But before talking about the war, I’ll tell you about my two literary debuts. The first, oral, coincided with my transition from medical to VGIK.
I gave a reading of a story at an evening of aspiring authors at a writers club.
A year later, my story “Double Error” appeared in the Ogonyok magazine; It is characteristic that it was dedicated to the fate of the aspiring writer. On the dirty, fermented streets of March, I ran from one newsstand to another and asked: is there any last story Nagibina?
The first publication shines brighter in the memory than the first love.
...On the Volkhov front, I had to not only fulfill my direct duties as a counter-propagandist, but also drop leaflets on German garrisons, and get out of the encirclement near the notorious Myasny Bor, and take (without taking) the “dominant heights.” Throughout the entire battle with thorough artillery preparation, tank attack and counterattack, shooting from personal weapons, I tried in vain to discern this height, because of which so many people died. It seems to me that after this fight I became an adult.
There were enough impressions, life experience was not accumulated bit by bit. Every free minute I scribbled short stories, and I didn’t even notice how many of them filled the book.
The thin collection “Man from the Front” was published in 1943 by the publishing house “ Soviet writer" But even before that, I was accepted in absentia into the Writers' Union. It happened with idyllic simplicity. At a meeting dedicated to admission to the Writers’ Union, Leonid Solovyov read my war story aloud, and A. A. Fadeev said: “He’s a writer, let’s admit him to our Union...”
In November 1942, already on the Voronezh front, I was very unlucky: I was covered with earth twice in a row. The first time during a horn transmission from no man's land, the second time on the way to the hospital, at the market of the small town of Anna, when I bought Varenets. A plane turned away from somewhere, dropped a single bomb, and I didn’t try Varentsy.
I left the hands of the doctors with a white ticket - the path to the front was booked even as a war correspondent. My mother told me not to apply for disability. "Try to live like healthy man" And I tried...
Luckily for me, the Trud newspaper received the right to keep three civilian military officers. I worked at Trud until the end of the war. I had a chance to visit Stalingrad during the most last days battles, when they “finished” the Traktorozavodskaya village, near Leningrad and in the city itself, then during the liberation of Minsk, Vilnius, Kaunas and in other parts of the war. I also went to the rear, saw the beginning of restoration work in Stalingrad and how the first tractor was assembled there, how they drained the mines of Donbass and chopped coal with a butt, how the Volga port stevedores worked and how the Ivanovo weavers toiled, gritting their teeth...
Everything I saw and experienced then repeatedly returned to me many years later in a different image, and I again wrote about the Volga and Donbass during the war, about the Volkhov and Voronezh fronts and, probably, I will never fully settle accounts with this material.
After the war, I was mainly engaged in journalism, traveling a lot around the country, preferring rural areas.
By the mid-1950s, I had given up journalism and devoted myself entirely to pure literary work. Stories are coming out that are well-noticed by readers - “ Winter oak", "Komarov", "Chetunov's son Chetunov", "Night Guest", "Get down, we've arrived." In critical articles there were statements that I was finally approaching artistic maturity.
Over the next quarter of a century, I published many collections of stories: “Stories”, “Winter Oak”, “Rocky Threshold”, “Man and the Road”, “The Last Assault”, “Before the Holiday”, “Early Spring”, “My Friends, People", " Chistye Prudy”, “Far and Close”, “Alien Heart”, “Alleys of My Childhood”, “You Will Live”, “Island of Love”, “Berendeev Forest” - the list is far from complete. I also contacted more major genre. In addition to the story “Difficult Happiness”, which is based on the story “The Pipe”, I wrote the stories: “Pavlik”, “Far from the War”, “Pages of Trubnikov’s Life”, “At the Cordon”, “Smoke Break”, “Get Up and Go” and others.
One of my closest friends once took me to duck hunting. Since then, Meshchera, the Meshchera theme and the Meshchera resident, a disabled person, have firmly entered my life. Patriotic War, huntsman Anatoly Ivanovich Makarov. I wrote a book of stories and a screenplay about him feature film“The Pursuit”, but, besides everything, I just really love this unusual, proud man and value his friendship.
Nowadays, the Meshchera theme, or more correctly, the theme of “nature and man,” has remained with me only in journalism - I never tire of pushing my throat, calling for mercy for the exhausting world of nature.
About my Chistoprudny childhood, oh big house with two courtyards and wine cellars, I spoke about the unforgettable communal apartment and its population in the cycles “Chistye Prudy”, “Alleys of My Childhood”, “Summer”, “School”. The last three cycles made up the “Book of Childhood”.
My stories and stories are my real autobiography.
In 1980–1981, the preliminary results of my work as a short story writer were summed up: the publishing house " Fiction” published a four-volume set consisting only of short stories and several short stories. Following this, I collected my critical articles, thoughts about literature, about my favorite genre, about comrades in arms, about what built my personality, and it was built by people, time, books, painting and music. The title of the collection is “Not Another's Craft.” Well, then I continued to write about the present and the past, about my country and foreign lands - the collections “The Science of Distant Journeys”, “The River of Heraclitus”, “A Trip to the Islands”.
At first I was slavishly devoted to His Majesty Fact, then fantasy awakened, and I stopped clinging to the visible evidence of phenomena; now all that remained was to throw away the constraining time frame. Archpriest Avvakum, Marlowe, Trediakovsky, Bach, Goethe, Pushkin, Tyutchev, Delvig, Apollo Grigoriev, Leskov, Fet, Annensky, Bunin, Rachmaninov, Tchaikovsky, Hemingway - these are the new heroes. What explains this rather motley selection of names? The desire to render to God what is divine. In life, many people do not get what they deserve, especially creators: poets, writers, composers, painters. They are killed not only in duels, like Marlowe, Pushkin, Lermontov, but also in a slower and more painful way - misunderstanding, cold, blindness and deafness. Artists are indebted to society - this is well known, but society is also indebted to those who trustingly bear their hearts to it. Anton Rubinstein said: “The creator needs praise, praise and praise.” But how little praise fell during their lifetime to the majority of the creators I have named!
Of course, I am not always driven by the desire to compensate a departed creator for what was not received during his lifetime. Sometimes completely different motives force me to turn to the great shadows. Pushkin, let’s say, certainly does not need anyone’s intercession. It’s just that one day I strongly doubted the notorious frivolity of Pushkin the lyceum student, the lack of accountability of his young poetry. I felt with all my being that Pushkin realized his chosenness early and took upon himself a burden that was unbearable for others. And when I wrote about Tyutchev, I wanted to unravel the mystery of the creation of one of his most personal and sorrowful poems...
Already long years I devote a lot of time to cinema. I started with self-films, this was a period of study, never completed at the film institute, mastering a new genre, then I began to work on independent scripts, these include: the duology “Chairman”, “Director”, “Red Tent”, “Indian Kingdom” ", "Yaroslav Dombrowski", "Tchaikovsky" (co-authored), "The Brilliant and Sorrowful Life of Imre Kalman" and others. I didn’t come to this work by accident. All my stories and tales are local, but I wanted to embrace life more widely, so that the winds of history and the masses of the people would rustle on my pages, so that the layers of time would turn over and great, extended destinies would take place.
Of course, I didn’t only work for “large-scale” films. I am glad to have participated in such films as “The Night Guest”, “The Slowest Train”, “The Girl and the Echo”, “Dersu Uzala” (Oscar Award), “Late Encounter”...
Now I have discovered another interesting area of work: educational television. I made a number of programs for him, which I myself hosted - about Lermontov, Leskov, S.T. Aksakov, Innokenty Annensky, A. Golubkina, I.-S. Bache.
So what is the main thing in my literary work: stories, drama, journalism, criticism? Of course, stories. I intend to continue to focus on short prose.
1986

Yu. M. Nagibin

Stories

Winter oak

The snow that had fallen overnight covered the narrow path leading from Uvarovka to the school, and only by the faint, intermittent shadow on the dazzling snow cover could its direction be guessed. The teacher carefully placed her foot in a small, fur-trimmed boot, ready to pull it back if the snow deceived her.
It was only half a kilometer to school, and the teacher just threw a short fur coat over her shoulders and quickly tied a light woolen scarf around her head. But the frost was strong, and besides, the wind blew and, tearing off a young snowball from the crust, showered her from head to toe. But the twenty-four-year-old teacher liked it all. I liked that the frost bit my nose and cheeks, that the wind, blowing under my fur coat, chilled my body. Turning away from the wind, she saw behind her the frequent trail of her pointy boots, similar to the trail of some animal, and she liked that too.
A fresh, light-filled January day awakened joyful thoughts about life and about myself. It’s only been two years since she came here from her student days, and she has already gained fame as a skillful, experienced teacher of the Russian language. And in Uvarovka, and in Kuzminki, and in Cherny Yar, and in the peat town, and at the stud farm - everywhere they know her, appreciate her and call her respectfully: Anna Vasilievna.
The sun rose over the jagged wall of the distant forest, thickly turning the long shadows on the snow blue. Shadows brought the most distant objects closer together: the top of the old church bell tower stretched to the porch of the Uvarovsky village council, the pines of the right-bank forest lay in a row along the bevel of the left bank, the windsock of the school meteorological station was spinning in the middle of the field, at the very feet of Anna Vasilievna.
A man was walking towards me across the field. “What if he doesn’t want to give way?” - Anna Vasilievna thought with cheerful fear. You can’t warm up on the path, but take a step to the side and you’ll instantly drown in the snow. But she knew to herself that there was no person in the area who would not give way to the Uvarov teacher.
They drew level. It was Frolov, a trainer from a stud farm.
- WITH Good morning, Anna Vasilievna! - Frolov raised his kubanka over his strong, short-cropped head.
- May it be for you! Put it on now - it’s so freezing!..
Frolov himself probably wanted to quickly put the Kubanka on, but now he deliberately hesitated, wanting to show that he didn’t care about the cold. It was pink, smooth, as if it had just come from the bath; the short fur coat fitted his slender, light figure well; in his hand he held a thin, snake-like whip, with which he lashed himself on a white felt boot tucked below the knee.
- How is Lesha my, doesn’t he spoil you? - Frolov asked respectfully.
- Of course he's playing around. All normal children play around. “As long as it doesn’t cross the boundaries,” Anna Vasilievna answered in the consciousness of her pedagogical experience.
Frolov grinned:
- My Leshka is quiet, just like his father!
He stepped aside and, falling knee-deep into the snow, became the height of a fifth-grader. Anna Vasilyevna nodded down to him and went her way.
A two-story school building with wide windows painted with frost stood near the highway, behind a low fence. The snow right up to the highway was reddened by the reflection of its red walls. The school was placed on the road, away from Uvarovka, because children from all over the area studied there: from the surrounding villages, from a horse breeding village, from an oil workers’ sanatorium and a distant peat town. And now, along the highway from both sides, hoods and scarves, caps and caps, ear flaps and caps were flowing in streams to the school gates.
- Hello, Anna Vasilievna! - sounded every second, sometimes loud and clear, sometimes dull and barely audible from under the scarves and handkerchiefs wound up to the very eyes.
Anna Vasilievna's first lesson was in the fifth "A". Before the shrill bell had died down, announcing the start of classes, Anna Vasilievna entered the classroom. The guys stood up together, said hello and sat down in their places. Silence did not come immediately. Desk lids slammed, benches creaked, someone sighed noisily, apparently saying goodbye to the serene mood of the morning.
- Today we will continue analyzing parts of speech...
The class fell silent. I could hear cars rushing along the highway with a soft rustling sound.
Anna Vasilievna remembered how worried she was before class last year and, like a schoolgirl on an exam, kept repeating to herself: “A noun is a part of speech... a noun is a part of speech...” And she also remembered how she was tormented by a funny fear: what if they were all... won't they understand?..
Anna Vasilievna smiled at the memory, straightened the hairpin in her heavy bun and in an even, calm voice, feeling her calmness like warmth throughout her whole body, began:
- A noun is a part of speech that denotes an object. A subject in grammar is anything that can be asked about: who is this or what is this? For example: “Who is this?” - "Student". Or: “What is this?” - "Book".
- Can?
In the half-open door stood a small figure in worn felt boots, on which frosty sparks melted and died out. The round face, inflamed by the frost, burned as if it had been rubbed with beets, and the eyebrows were gray with frost.
-Are you late again, Savushkin? - Like most young teachers, Anna Vasilievna loved to be strict, but now her question sounded almost plaintive.
Taking the teacher’s words as permission to enter the classroom, Savushkin quickly slipped into his seat. Anna Vasilyevna saw how the boy put an oilcloth bag into his desk and asked his neighbor something, without turning his head - probably: “What is she explaining?..”
Anna Vasilyevna was upset by Savushkin’s lateness, like an annoying inconsistency that darkened a well-started day. The geography teacher, a small, dry old woman who looked like a moth, complained to her that Savushkin was late. In general, she often complained - either about the noise in the class or about the absent-mindedness of the students. “The first lessons are so difficult!” - the old woman sighed. “Yes, for those who don’t know how to hold students, who don’t know how to make their lesson interesting,” Anna Vasilievna thought self-confidently then and suggested that she change hours. Now she felt guilty before the old woman, who was insightful enough to see a challenge and reproach in Anna Vasilievna’s kind offer...
- Do you understand everything? - Anna Vasilievna addressed the class.
“I see!.. I see!..” the children answered in unison.
- Fine. Then give examples.
It became very quiet for a few seconds, then someone said hesitantly:
- Cat…
“That’s right,” said Anna Vasilyevna, immediately remembering that last year the “cat” was also the first.
And then it burst:
- Window!.. Table!.. House!.. Road!..
“That’s right,” said Anna Vasilievna, repeating the examples the guys called.
The class erupted with joy. Anna Vasilyevna was surprised by the joy with which the children named objects familiar to them, as if recognizing them in a new, unusual significance. The range of examples kept expanding, but for the first minutes the guys stuck to the closest, tangible objects: a wheel, a tractor, a well, a birdhouse...
And from the back desk, where fat Vasyata was sitting, a thin and insistent voice rang out:
- Carnation... carnation... carnation...
But then someone timidly said:
- City…
- The city is good! - Anna Vasilievna approved.
And then it flew:
- Street... Metro... Tram... Film...
“That’s enough,” said Anna Vasilievna. - I see you understand.
The voices somehow reluctantly fell silent, only fat Vasyata was still muttering his unrecognized “nail.” And suddenly, as if waking up from a dream, Savushkin rose above his desk and shouted loudly:
- Winter oak!
The guys laughed.
- Quiet! - Anna Vasilievna slammed her palm on the table.
- Winter oak! - Savushkin repeated, not noticing either the laughter of his comrades or the shout of the teacher.
He spoke differently from the other students. The words burst out of his soul like a confession, like a happy secret that an overflowing heart could not contain. Not understanding his strange agitation, Anna Vasilievna said, barely hiding her irritation:
- Why winter? Just oak.
- Just an oak - what! Winter oak - that's a noun!
- Sit down, Savushkin. This is what it means to be late! “Oak” is a noun, but we haven’t covered what “winter” is yet. During the big break, be kind enough to come into the teachers' room.
- Here's the “winter oak” for you! - someone in the back desk chuckled.
Savushkin sat down, smiling at some of his thoughts and not at all touched by the teacher’s menacing words.
“Difficult boy,” thought Anna Vasilievna.
The lesson continued...
“Sit down,” Anna Vasilievna said when Savushkin entered the teacher’s room.
The boy sat down with pleasure in a soft chair and swung several times on the springs.
- Please, explain why you are systematically late?
- I just don’t know, Anna Vasilievna. - He spread his hands like an adult. - I leave an hour before.
How difficult it is to find the truth in the most trifling matter! Many of the guys lived much further than Savushkin, and yet none of them spent more than an hour on the road.
- Do you live in Kuzminki?
- No, at the sanatorium.
- And aren’t you ashamed to say that you leave in an hour? From the sanatorium to the highway it takes about fifteen minutes, and along the highway no more than half an hour.
- But I don’t walk on the highway. “I’m taking a shortcut, straight through the forest,” said Savushkin, as if he himself was quite surprised by this circumstance.
“Directly, not bluntly,” Anna Vasilievna habitually corrected.
She felt vague and sad, as always when she encountered children's lies. She was silent, hoping that Savushkin would say: “Excuse me, Anna Vasilievna, I was playing with the guys in the snow,” or something equally simple and ingenuous. But he just looked at her big gray eyes, and his look seemed to say: “Now we’ve figured it all out, what else do you want from me?”
- It’s sad, Savushkin, very sad! I'll have to talk to your parents.
“And I, Anna Vasilievna, only have my mother,” Savushkin smiled.
Anna Vasilyevna blushed a little. She remembered Savushkin’s mother, the “shower nanny,” as her son called her. She worked at a sanatorium hydropathic clinic. Thin tired woman with white and limp hot water as if with cloth hands. Alone, without her husband, who died in World War II, she fed and raised three more children besides Kolya.
It’s true that Savushkina already has enough troubles. And yet she must see her. Even if it will be unpleasant for her at first, she will then understand that she is not alone in her maternal care.
- I'll have to go to your mother.
- Come, Anna Vasilievna. Mom will be happy!
- Unfortunately, I have nothing to please her with. Does mom work in the morning?
- No, she’s on the second shift, starting at three...
- Very well! I cum at two. After lessons you will accompany me.
...The path along which Savushkin led Anna Vasilievna began immediately at the back of the school. As soon as they stepped into the forest and the spruce paws, heavily loaded with snow, closed behind them, they were immediately transported to another, enchanted world of peace and soundlessness. Magpies and crows, flying from tree to tree, swayed branches, knocked down pine cones, and sometimes, touching with their wings, broke off fragile, dry twigs. But nothing gave birth to sound here.
All around is white and white, the trees are covered with snow down to the smallest, barely noticeable twig. Only in the heights do the wind-blown tops of tall weeping birches turn black, and the thin branches seem to be drawn in ink on the blue surface of the sky.
The path ran along the stream, sometimes level with it, obediently following all the twists of the riverbed, then, rising above the stream, it wound along a steep slope.
Sometimes the trees parted, revealing sunny, cheerful clearings, crossed by a hare's footprint, similar to a watch chain. There were also large trefoil-shaped tracks that belonged to some large animal. The tracks went into the very thicket, into the brown forest.
- Sokhaty has passed! - as if about a good friend, Savushkin said, seeing that Anna Vasilievna was interested in the tracks. “Just don’t be afraid,” he added in response to the glance cast by the teacher into the depths of the forest, “the elk is calm.”

Topic: “Tales of the Winter Oak” based on the story by Yu. Nagibin “Winter Oak”.

(Title option: “Seeing the unusual in the ordinary”)

Goals:

continue work on the content of the work, identifying main idea story;

enrich the experience of aesthetic perception surrounding reality;

develop schoolchildren’s speech skills and creative speech abilities;

cultivate a patriotic attitude towards nature.

“To comprehend the wise structure of nature, its strength and fragility, power

its laws and insecurity."

Yu. Nagibin

During the classes:

Checking homework

Retelling.

Analytical work for the second part.

We find the sentence with which the second part begins and analyze it.

("As soon as they stepped into the forest and the spruce paws, heavily loaded with snow, closed behind them, they were immediately transported to another, enchanted world of peace...")

What surprising thing did the boy show to his teacher in the winter forest? (children list).

Now Savushkin reveals to his teacher amazing world winter nature and patiently explains its secrets.

How does the winter oak appear in the story?

(“And now, not a gap, but a wide, sunlit opening appeared in front, there was something sparkling, sparkling, swarming with icy stars.” We don’t see the oak itself yet, but we feel that something unusual, wonderful will appear)

Let's reread the description of the winter oak. Which visual arts did the author use when describing?

(Comparisons: like a cathedral; its lower branches spread out like a tent;

Metaphors: snow has packed into the deep wrinkles of the bark; the trunk seemed stitched with silver threads; leaves in snowy covers).

Why did the writer use these figurative devices in this description?

(To better show the reader the beauty of the winter oak, visualize it)

Why is the oak called the “generous guardian of the forest”?

(Because huge, powerful, stands like a guard. He protects the winter sleep of living creatures: hedgehogs, frogs, beetles, lizards, boogers. The winter oak “generously” sheltered them all)

Let's remember how Savushkin talked about this tree in his Russian language lesson?

("Just an oak - what! Winter oak - that's a noun!")

Was Savushkin right when he cited “winter oak” as an example of a noun?

In what words did Anna Vasilyeva express her admiration for the oak?

What feelings did Anna Vasilievna experience when she saw this fabulous tree?

("...She timidly stepped" towards him, and the "guardian of the forest" quietly swung a branch towards her.)

(Others don’t know, don’t even realize that such secrets of the forest exist. This world was discovered by a boy)

What new did Anna Vasilievna learn about Savushkina in the forest? Why did she allow him to walk to school through the forest? (she rediscovered Savushkin, who enthusiastically told her that “there are so many of these keys of passion”, that “the stream is alive even under the snow”; an observant, attentive person. Maybe in the future he will become the same guardian forests, like oak)

Has Anna Vasilievna's attitude towards the boy changed? What facts can you prove? (Her reflection on the boy as a “wonderful and mysterious person”)

Let's compare, has the teacher herself changed? What lesson did Anna Vasilievna learn? (Anna Vasilievna will now not be condescending, as before, but truly attentive, kind, sensitive. She will definitely be a very good teacher! This day made Anna Vasilievna wiser and seemingly older. When Anna Vasilievna visited the world of Savushkin, she discovered a lot for himself. The student knew something that the teacher did not know. In Anna Vasilievna’s soul, a comprehension of life takes place: every person is a mystery, like the secret of the forest, which must be guessed.

She saw how the boy, in a completely masculine way, took care of both his teacher and the “eaglet,” who, in his opinion, might be offended and leave the forest. This attitude towards the nature of a person, equal to it, capable of not only using, but protecting and preserving it, is one of the lessons that Anna Vasilievna was able to learn from this walk through the winter forest and meeting with the winter oak).)

Let's remember: the conflict began with Savushkin being late for class, and now how was this conflict resolved? (Anna Vasilievna understood why Savushkin was late - she walked the same path as her student. Now Anna Vasilievna, enchanted winter forest, forgot that she needed to hurry to the student’s mother. She is completely at the mercy of nature and is late)

Why is the story called “Winter Oak”? (The winter oak, of course, is also a hero of the story by Yu. M. Nagibin, and the title character, that is, put by the author in the title of the work. The meeting with him turned Anna Vasilievna’s life upside down, her views on herself, on her students, opened up another world, taught me to see the unusual in the ordinary.).

(To understand how beautiful the world is in which people can be happy

and nature, because it is a single whole. To understand that there is another world

a person and must be accepted as if he were your own. So that we value life).

Pay attention to the epigraph of the lesson. The writer with all his works sought precisely so that we, the readers, would be able to “comprehend...”.

Reflection

Homework : essay “What discoveries did I make after reading this story”

Literature: Tsvetkova Tatyana Mikhailovna. Extracurricular reading lesson based on the story by Yu. Nagibin “Winter Oak”. Festival " Public lesson».

Subject: Yuri Nagibin. Winter oak

Goals: Work on the content of the work, teach to understand hidden thoughts;

develop the ability to formulate your emotional and evaluative judgments;

nurturing a culture of thinking, interest in the story and its characters.

Equipment: text of the story “Winter Oak”, portrait of Yu. Nagibin, drawing of a winter oak on the board.

During the classes:

Collection of notebooks with homework (Yu. Kazakov “Arcturus – the hound dog”)

introduction teachers about the writer and his books, about the date of writing this story.

A jointreading a story.

Checking initial perception

Why is the work called “Winter Oak”?

What did you like or dislike about the story?

What can you say about the boy?

I wonder what worries the writer who turned to this plot? What idea is he trying to convey to us, the reader?

This is what we will talk about in class. Let's check if your guesses were correct.

Analytical work

- How many parts can the story be divided into? (The peculiarity of the story’s composition is that it is easily divided into two parts).

Today we will talk to you about the first part of the story.

Where does the story begin?

(From a description of the weather, the scene, a meeting with a teacher who was rushing to school for her first lesson.)

In literary criticism this is called... (Exposition)

Why did Anna Vasilievna have joyful thoughts? (the teacher is young, she has everything ahead of her, because youth is already happiness. “It’s only been two years since she came here from her student days, and she has already gained fame as a skillful, experienced teacher of the Russian language,” “everywhere she is known, appreciated and called respectfully" by patronymic)

Why is the heroine of the story by Yu.M. Did Nagibin choose a Russian language teacher?

(This is the best language, the author likes it. The heroine of the story is similar to the writer’s teacher.) Returning to the date the story was written leads children to the idea that after the war there were many illiterate people, and the thirst for knowledge was enormous, the teachers were respected and appreciated, they loved to listen to him and enjoyed learning to read and write).

Is there any evidence in the story that she was truly loved? (Frolov, the parent of one of the students, greeted “raising the Kubanka” above his head (a sign of respect) “stepped aside, falling knee-deep in the snow”)

So, what does Anna Vasilievna appear to us like? (Anna Vasilievna is young, smart, skillful, talented, respected, etc.)

Before us is an image ideal person.

- Where is the plot of the action? Where does the event begin? (Savushkin is late.)

– How can you call the conversation between a teacher and a late student? (Conflict.)

Why was Savushkin always late for school? (When he walked through the forest, he did not notice how time passed. He was held back by the forest secrets and beauty)

Why do you think Savushkin called the phrase “winter oak” a noun? (For Savushkin, the main thing in this world, the “essential” one, was the winter oak.)

We find in the text how Nagibin conveyed the boy’s state at that moment. (The words “broke out of the soul”; in these words there was a “happy secret that an overflowing heart cannot hold”)

Was it possible to extinguish this conflict? What ways do you suggest?

(If Anna Vasilyevna had listened! How interestingly Savushkin would probably have told about the winter oak! Everyone would probably have run to look at it! You could even take a tour and then write an essay. But a truly experienced teacher would have done this. But Anna Vasilievna decided to complain about Savushkin to his mother.)

We read a dialogue between a teacher and a student.

Read about how Anna Vasilievna felt in the staff room when talking with Savushkin. What does she think about Savushkin? (That he is lying). Is her assumption later justified?

What did you find out about Savushkin’s parents? Read it.

When did the events of this story take place? What time was it?

Reflection

Homework: prepare for retelling the choice of part “The noun “winter oak”, description of the winter oak.

Yuri Markovich Nagibin

Winter oak

It was only half a kilometer to school, and the teacher just threw a short fur coat over her shoulders and quickly tied a light woolen scarf around her head. But the frost was strong, and besides, the wind blew and, tearing off a young snowball from the crust, showered her from head to toe. But the twenty-four-year-old teacher liked it all. I liked that the frost bit my nose and cheeks, that the wind, blowing under my fur coat, chilled my body. Turning away from the wind, she saw behind her the frequent trail of her pointy boots, similar to the trail of some animal, and she liked that too.

A fresh, light-filled January day awakened joyful thoughts about life and about myself. It’s only been two years since she came here from her student days, and she has already gained fame as a skillful, experienced teacher of the Russian language. And in Uvarovka, and in Kuzminki, and in Cherny Yar, and in the peat town, and at the stud farm - everywhere they know her, appreciate her and call her respectfully: Anna Vasilievna.

The sun rose over the jagged wall of the distant forest, thickly turning the long shadows on the snow blue. Shadows brought the most distant objects closer together: the top of the old church bell tower stretched to the porch of the Uvarovsky village council, the pines of the right-bank forest lay in a row along the bevel of the left bank, the windsock of the school meteorological station was spinning in the middle of the field, at the very feet of Anna Vasilievna.

A man was walking towards me across the field. “What if he doesn’t want to give way?” - Anna Vasilievna thought with cheerful fear. You can’t warm up on the path, but take a step to the side and you’ll instantly drown in the snow. But she knew to herself that there was no person in the area who would not give way to the Uvarov teacher.

They drew level. It was Frolov, a trainer from a stud farm.

Good morning, Anna Vasilievna! - Frolov raised his kubanka over his strong, short-cropped head.

May it be for you! Put it on now - it’s so freezing!..

Frolov himself probably wanted to quickly put the Kubanka on, but now he deliberately hesitated, wanting to show that he didn’t care about the cold. It was pink, smooth, as if it had just come from the bath; the short fur coat fitted his slender, light figure well; in his hand he held a thin, snake-like whip, with which he lashed himself on a white felt boot tucked below the knee.

How is Lesha my, isn’t he spoiling me? - Frolov asked respectfully.

Of course he's playing around. All normal children play around. “As long as it doesn’t cross the boundaries,” Anna Vasilievna answered in the consciousness of her pedagogical experience.

Frolov grinned:

My Leshka is quiet, just like his father!

He stepped aside and, falling knee-deep into the snow, became the height of a fifth-grader. Anna Vasilyevna nodded down to him and went her way.

A two-story school building with wide windows painted with frost stood near the highway, behind a low fence. The snow right up to the highway was reddened by the reflection of its red walls. The school was placed on the road, away from Uvarovka, because children from all over the area studied there: from the surrounding villages, from a horse breeding village, from an oil workers’ sanatorium and a distant peat town. And now, along the highway from both sides, hoods and scarves, caps and caps, ear flaps and caps were flowing in streams to the school gates.

Hello, Anna Vasilievna! - sounded every second, sometimes loud and clear, sometimes dull and barely audible from under the scarves and handkerchiefs wound up to the very eyes.

Anna Vasilievna's first lesson was in the fifth "A". Before the shrill bell had died down, announcing the start of classes, Anna Vasilievna entered the classroom. The guys stood up together, said hello and sat down in their places. Silence did not come immediately. Desk lids slammed, benches creaked, someone sighed noisily, apparently saying goodbye to the serene mood of the morning.

Today we will continue our analysis of parts of speech...

The class fell silent. I could hear cars rushing along the highway with a soft rustling sound.

Anna Vasilievna remembered how worried she was before class last year and, like a schoolgirl on an exam, kept repeating to herself: “A noun is a part of speech... a noun is a part of speech...” And she also remembered how she was tormented by a funny fear: what if they were all... won't they understand?..

Anna Vasilievna smiled at the memory, straightened the hairpin in her heavy bun and in an even, calm voice, feeling her calmness like warmth throughout her whole body, began:

A noun is a part of speech that denotes an object. A subject in grammar is anything that can be asked about: who is this or what is this? For example: “Who is this?” - "Student". Or: “What is this?” - "Book".

In the half-open door stood a small figure in worn felt boots, on which frosty sparks melted and died out. The round face, inflamed by the frost, burned as if it had been rubbed with beets, and the eyebrows were gray with frost.

Are you late again, Savushkin? - Like most young teachers, Anna Vasilievna loved to be strict, but now her question sounded almost plaintive.

Taking the teacher’s words as permission to enter the classroom, Savushkin quickly slipped into his seat. Anna Vasilyevna saw how the boy put an oilcloth bag into his desk and asked his neighbor something, without turning his head - probably: “What is she explaining?..”

Anna Vasilyevna was upset by Savushkin’s lateness, like an annoying inconsistency that darkened a well-started day. The geography teacher, a small, dry old woman who looked like a moth, complained to her that Savushkin was late. In general, she often complained - either about the noise in the class or about the absent-mindedness of the students. “The first lessons are so difficult!” - the old woman sighed. “Yes, for those who don’t know how to hold students, who don’t know how to make their lesson interesting,” Anna Vasilievna thought self-confidently then and suggested that she change hours. Now she felt guilty before the old woman, who was insightful enough to see a challenge and reproach in Anna Vasilievna’s kind offer...

Do you understand everything? - Anna Vasilievna addressed the class.

I see!.. I see!.. - the children answered in unison.

Fine. Then give examples.

It became very quiet for a few seconds, then someone said hesitantly:

That’s right,” said Anna Vasilievna, immediately remembering that last year the “cat” was also the first.

And then it burst:

Window!.. Table!.. House!.. Road!..

Yu. M. Nagibin

prepared

3rd grade student "A"

Berezhnaya Sofia

Presentation plan:

Some facts from the life and work of the writer.
Contents of the story. Description of nature.
Love for nature and tolerance -

rare qualities that need to be cultivated in people.

A participant in the Great Patriotic War, he spoke German, was a correspondent, and wrote about the war.
Author of the stories “The Man from the Front”, “Big Heart”, “Winter Oak” and others.
Films based on the scripts of Yu. Nagibin: “Chairman”, “Chistye Prudy”, “Girl Echo”, etc.
He wrote books dedicated to children.

put on, pull the hat low on the forehead
a little condescending
soft, as if made of matter
storm-fallen forest
unfrozen place on the icy surface of a river, lake

Punch
Condescendingly

Cloth hands

Windfall
Polynya

The teacher, Anna Vasilyevna, was outraged by the constant tardiness and inattention of the student Savushkin.

She decides to visit his mother. They walk together along a short path through the forest. Extraordinary beauty winter forest completely changes the teacher’s mood, she suddenly saw differently the world and his student.

Having walked the same path as her student, she realized that every person is a mystery, like the secret of the forest, which must be guessed.

Image of student Savushkin

from the film "Winter Oak"

"Just an oak - what! Winter oak - that's a noun!"
It is said about the winter oak “the mighty, generous guardian of the forest” - it is huge, mighty, and stands like a guard.
the snow had packed into the deep wrinkles of the bark; the trunk seemed stitched with silver threads; the leaves of the oak tree have not fallen off in the fall, and each leaf is covered with snow, like a “cover.”