In the Soviet Union the most of school children started to study a foreign language in the age of 11. Usually there were only two options to choose, German or English. French was learnt in a few of schools. In my first school I studied German. Almost all the girls had made such choice thanks to a very sweet teacher, who was a kind of our tutor a year before.
After moving to another school I had met a problem with the complete lack of German teacher. For several months they decided to invite me a teacher from another school or just start to teach me English. Finally the second variant was considered preferable. The English teacher had promised to give me ten lessons during summer holidays to make me read at least a little. So in September I had to make the same tasks like other pupils who studied English for three years. What a pleasure for the worst students! At last there was someone knowing less words than they, reading more funny way, translating slower.
That period I had a great nostalgia of German, which seamed much easier. While reading in English I used to make such stupid mistakes that the whole form laughed like in the circus. Once I had pronounced an American town name so "clearly" that it sounded as "a town of guys" for Russian speakers. That time I hadn't yet known what did the guy mean, so I couldn't understand why were everybody giggled so furiously.
But little by little my knowledge became better and soon I had reached my favourite middle level among the others. Later at the university I entered the correspondent course of English in Kiev and improved my English till such stage that could use it for correspondence with pen pals from various countries. I'd met the first native speaker four years after graduating from the university. Joe came to visit me from South Caroline and his English was rather far from those tapes with Ukrainian teachers speaking English. The most difficult was the first evening when the whole family gathered at the table and I had to be a translator. To say frankly I've never seen so brimming with energy person. Our guest kept on talking without any pauses. Only time when he was silent, it was my modest attempts to translate his stories. My father and Joe had found the common language very quickly, thanks to vodka I guess. Everyone wanted to tell as much funny stories as one knew and of course nobody thought about my short vocabulary. One story I couldn't understand absolutely and for avoiding disappointing the friend from America I said to my family," Now Joe has told a very
funny story from which I hardly get two words, so please make everything possible to laugh as strong as you can. Are you ready? OK. Let's start."
After ten day communication I've got the great practice. Thanks to Joe I have understood that English wasn't a dead language a kind of Latin as it seemed to me in my isolated world. In the end f the same year I've seen an article about an American girl who came to teach English in my town and my wish to feel that delight again...
After moving to another school I had met a problem with the complete lack of German teacher. For several months they decided to invite me a teacher from another school or just start to teach me English. Finally the second variant was considered preferable. The English teacher had promised to give me ten lessons during summer holidays to make me read at least a little. So in September I had to make the same tasks like other pupils who studied English for three years. What a pleasure for the worst students! At last there was someone knowing less words than they, reading more funny way, translating slower.
That period I had a great nostalgia of German, which seamed much easier. While reading in English I used to make such stupid mistakes that the whole form laughed like in the circus. Once I had pronounced an American town name so "clearly" that it sounded as "a town of guys" for Russian speakers. That time I hadn't yet known what did the guy mean, so I couldn't understand why were everybody giggled so furiously.
But little by little my knowledge became better and soon I had reached my favourite middle level among the others. Later at the university I entered the correspondent course of English in Kiev and improved my English till such stage that could use it for correspondence with pen pals from various countries. I'd met the first native speaker four years after graduating from the university. Joe came to visit me from South Caroline and his English was rather far from those tapes with Ukrainian teachers speaking English. The most difficult was the first evening when the whole family gathered at the table and I had to be a translator. To say frankly I've never seen so brimming with energy person. Our guest kept on talking without any pauses. Only time when he was silent, it was my modest attempts to translate his stories. My father and Joe had found the common language very quickly, thanks to vodka I guess. Everyone wanted to tell as much funny stories as one knew and of course nobody thought about my short vocabulary. One story I couldn't understand absolutely and for avoiding disappointing the friend from America I said to my family," Now Joe has told a very
funny story from which I hardly get two words, so please make everything possible to laugh as strong as you can. Are you ready? OK. Let's start."
After ten day communication I've got the great practice. Thanks to Joe I have understood that English wasn't a dead language a kind of Latin as it seemed to me in my isolated world. In the end f the same year I've seen an article about an American girl who came to teach English in my town and my wish to feel that delight again...
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