What did the house where you grew up look like? Describe it, tell us about its surroundings, so that the reader can imagine it.

My childhood was spent in different homes. Rather, there was no house as such at all, but there were rooms and apartments. I will describe the one where I lived from 6 to 10 years. My father got it from his work, he worked as a teacher in a forestry school. This was our first apartment. Before that, we lived in a dorm-style room without any amenities, so we were very happy to settle in a real apartment with an entrance hall, a corridor and separate rooms. Our apartment was on the second floor of a two-story brick house. On each floor, if my memory serves me correctly, there were four apartments – one three-room, one two-room and two one-room, one of which went to us. Our apartment consisted of a room and a kitchen, a toilet was in the yard, there was no bathroom at all. The house was surrounded by a wooden fence. On the side opposite the house, there was a wooden lavatory for two points and eight sheds, according to the number of apartments. Coal and firewood were stored in the sheds. The fact is that the house had stove heating. The water supply was only with cold water, so you had to heat the stove in the kitchen for cooking and heating in the cold. The house bordered on one side the forestry school where my father worked, and in front of the house, about 20 meters away, there was a road. On the other two sides, the house was surrounded by vacant lots.

Tell us about an incident in your life (or the life of your friend) when you were ashamed or embarrassed for your behavior.

One day we were going on vacation with my husband at the sea. On the last evening before leaving, I decided to check whether I had prepared everything for departure, went through the apartment and saw that all my jewelry and jewelry were in the most visible place, on the dressing table. "It's dangerous to leave them here, we need to hide them somewhere," I thought. I walked around the apartment for a long time, looking for a suitable hiding place. I asked my husband for advice, but he was busy and just waved me off. To me, all the places seemed unreliable. I went out to the loggia. "It will be the farthest from the front door, which is set on the alarm," I naively decided. The further course of my thoughts, in connection with the pre-departure turmoil, flew out of my head. When we returned from vacation, I went to the loggia to collect my jewelry, but to my surprise, they were not there. I started looking in other places. They were nowhere to be found. My husband and I divided the apartment into squares and carefully searched everywhere. I called the master to check the alarm system, went to the police station. The police told me that the thief could only be my neighbor, who came to the apartment twice a week to water my flowers. I immediately refused this option, and I did not write a statement. The alarm master said that the alarm system is working, but you do not have an alarm on the loggia. It seemed to me that it was not realistic to get into the apartment on the sixth floor through the loggia, but he gave me all sorts of cases from his practice. We talked to my husband and decided that he was probably right. I was very upset. I remembered every item in my box, who gave it to me, or how it was bought. Such experiences, which hung like a heavy stone around my neck, I could not help but share with the people around me. I told all my family, friends, and neighbors about what had happened. Everyone was very sympathetic. Several months passed. For the New year, I decided to cook meat in fondue. The fondue bowl, which I use very rarely, stood against the wall of a very deep cabinet in the kitchen. What was my surprise when, as I pushed it aside, I saw my lost box! I screamed with happiness. I had absolutely no memory of how it got there. I was happy, but at the same time, I was uncomfortable with the thought of how many people I'd fucked over.

What do you value most in your work? Why is this important to you? Tell us if your attitude to work has changed over the years.

The work of a teacher has always seemed to me extremely interesting. I thought that communicating with students, teaching them something that I myself understand well, I would never grow old in my soul, learning something new every day. It never occurred to me that I could teach Japanese in America. At the moment, as before, I most appreciate the opportunity to communicate with students, as well as with the teaching staff of the department. Since I just started working at this place, all the time is spent on preparing for classes, checking students ' work and developing materials. In the future, I hope to also engage in research work aimed at improving the methods of teaching the language. It would be great if I could make full use of the knowledge I have gained over many years of education.