Shkolota - terrible force Bashny.Net

I went today talking about the destructive power of the younger generation. Who dad in the car something broke, my mother's hair who understand. And then I remembered a story from my school life.

Our school in 50-60s of the last century was one of the leading and well-equipped in the district. Any fotokruzhke, shooting, and other language labs with the latest science that time. Gradually hell penetrating power faded director and then the director was replaced and the 80th, when I went to this school, it all died down to a perfect and absolute vacuum. What it broke that ever was buried behind the doors with heavy locks, but about something completely forgotten.
[next]

In the class of labor, even to the very 60s stood at us a couple of TV-3 (lathes for school workshops). By the time I start school they have stood as a visual aid. No they do not Turner, only a year after year painted with paint. They are used mostly for show, they say, and we are working in the office real lathes for general education elementary school to see how all that is arranged in the lathe.
Toward the end of the 80's came to us Trudovik, a young man, and he decided to elevate office work. I made a lot of good and useful things out there, but these machines him wildly mingled. He decided to disassemble them nafig, to pen-bolts-Circuits afford to leave for cases of mineral and metal residues in the pass, because revive these machines to life there was no way, at that time. Tormented, tortured - well, absolutely nothing. What is not plastered stopitstsot layers of paint - that prishkvarilos with 60 so do not otderesh. He fumbled, fumbled, resulting spat, and put them in recreation, where shkolota at recess worn and suffers foolishness. Ummm, and not to interfere.

In general, after a week the bed were bare. School bare hands and his unbridled power of these tools to disassemble the screw-Shpuntik, spit and paint and rust and generally to all.

Trudovik then long wondered this fact.

By the way with him I came to the school and the young fizruk. And with their help, as well as due to storms in the country, at school, at last, there was a lot of tasty and interesting. Thanks to them, somewhere half my class would sit in the school building until dark, doing all sorts of interesting and useful for their future works, and not wandered through the cellars and sniffing glue.
And it is thanks to them and their work instead of glue, as many think, I met in the basement of the school of Stalin.
But that's another story.





Source: