Liliya___
That day was one of the saddest days of my life. Even though it was my second attempt, I had once again been accepted into a teaching major.
Unlike me, the other students walked through the university gates clutching their documents, their faces glowing with pride and joy for the future they had earned. I, on the other hand, walked forward helplessly, tears streaming down my face.
As if this were my last chance.
As if everyone was destined to attend university.
As if I, too, absolutely had to go.
Because that was the unwritten law.
All my life, I blamed my teachers for never guiding me in the right direction when the time mattered most. Yes, them... not my uneducated parents, but my teachers. Yet how could I have known? They worked only as much as the salary they were paid for.
And so, there I was, taking my very first steps toward becoming a teacher. As if that alone were not enough, I continued on to earn a master's degree after finishing my bachelor's. Later, I worked as a teacher in three different schools. During those years, I attended countless trainings and did everything I could to improve my knowledge and skills.
Even today, I am still a teacher. Far away from my parents, I spend my days teaching. And at night... yes, at night, I am still teaching.
Sometimes I prepare assignments for children.
Sometimes I grade assessments.
Sometimes I follow the endless orders of principals and vice principals.
And I have not even mentioned the duties I must carry out as a homeroom teacher just to earn the worth of 32 manats and 40 qepiks.
There was only one thing I was grateful for: unlike the mountain village where I worked before, this time my house was warmed by a heating system instead of a wood stove. I go to school in proper shoes, not galoshes or rubber boots. The electricity in my home does not disappear for ten days at a time. There is a store and a hospital where I live.
And snakes no longer crawl into my house...