Boys like to play war

Boys like to play war. When they come together, there will certainly be a "red commander" among them. And someone should become "blue" or simply "enemy."The point, in fact, is not in the sounding of words - in meaning. After all, guys are always divided into two camps. One group is "ours".Another by the rules of the game should be, figuratively speaking, on the other side of the barricade. And everyone understands perfectly well that the "enemy" is waiting for the rout, the banners sooner or later "our" will be thrown to the ground. ..

The boys do not play differently in the war. At them, no matter what age we take, everything looks the same as in a great life. Two opposing groups are obligatory. But nobody wants to be in the ranks of the second, "not our" side. Therefore, most of the time the guys are defined "with a scratch", and sometimes the formation of the "blue" front is accompanied by a frank roar. Let us note, by the way, this important detail that this system is often credited with the weakest, small, unfussy, sluggish - in short, those who do not know how to stand up for themselves, to rebuff.

As for "our", then, as you know, there is always a complete order. Everybody wants to be among them. ..

These are the boys. Although, however, behind these unwritten rules there is also seen something else, very serious, if we approach the childish ideas that are customary for us from the standpoint of high social significance. In children, as it were, there is an invisible for the eye, but actually an excellent mechanism of understanding that to be in the ranks of "ours" means to fight for a just cause, for good, for justice, for the Motherland, at last.

Guys, however, do not operate with such high materials, even, perhaps, do not think about them. But it's all very clear to them. Therefore, there is no release from those who wish to join the ranks of "our".

And what about the other, "hostile" camp? This is where the adult, parental word is often not enough to solve all the boyish doubts, to extinguish the discontent of the children, who had the role of "blues."Our support, approval in such cases contribute to the preservation of the positions and conditions necessary for the game, but most importantly - help to lay the foundation for a young soul in the very basis of citizenship and patriotism.

Here are just what words are best perceived by our boys?

It is not easy to answer this question, as, of course, there are no ready recipes for all cases of life. They simply do not exist. Most likely, one must be able to feel with a parent's heart what is especially consonant with the mood of a child at one time or another in order to evoke the greatest response in it. Without awakening, the development of our pedagogical observation, instinct, culture, one can hardly expect success in the upbringing of children.

About seventeen years ago the publishing house Znanie published a book by A.S. Berezina "Are we always right?".At the heart of this interesting work concerns the problems of psychological contact between the elders and the younger in the family. At the end of the book, the author shares his thoughts on ways and means that allow achieving good results in the formation of patriotic feelings and views of the child.

AS Berezina remembers how she found her son playing in the war: on her head - a paper cap made in the school for the Victory Day, on the wide soldier's belt hang two children's guns, a sword. Vitya is concentrated, quite in an adult way, he prepares himself and his equipment for battle. Looking at the boy's serious face, the mother suddenly realizes that to the pain of her own, a very small person under the influence of some inner power is now able to really go "to war" and fight there until she cleanses our sacred land from all enemies.

And in the room sounds a disturbing heart song. The soft, brooding voice of Mark Burns fills every part of the soul with aching sadness.

The enemies burned their home hut, ruined his entire family. Where now to go to the soldier, Who to bear his sorrow?. .

Watching the child, the mother is pleasantly surprised: where in it, the seven-year-old, is such a keen sense of the Motherland? And although this is only a child's play, but how interesting it is from a psychological point of view! The child penetrated into the spirit of the song of the war years, realized that the duty of the soldier is to defend the Motherland, to take revenge on the enemies, to find the strength to continue the struggle even when it seems that you are literally overwhelmed by despair. ..

Let us also reflect on where our greatest, most radiant, great feeling-love to the Motherland-comes from? They say a person is born with him. But why do some people experience it more strongly, others - weaker? And are we entitled to rely only on the child's innate instinct? We believe it is unlikely. Is it possible to be indifferent to the way tomorrow's boys and girls, our children, will become today? What books will be read? What ideals will lead them forward? Nadezhda Konstantinovna Krupskaya wrote to the workers of Murom: "Our good children are growing, but much care is needed to raise them from them conscious people capable of bringing things to the end, for which Lenin fought for the rest of his life, for which our whole party will fight... »

Yes, the feeling of patriotism is awakening from our cradle. The homeland begins "with the song that the mother sang to us".The development of this feeling in the child's soul can not be neglected, it is necessary to continuously monitor and direct it.

Who does not know how beneficial the trip for the guys! Before them expands the world, so limited to a city apartment, street or lost somewhere in the woods, among the fields. The child's eyes open the expanse of the Motherland - the city, the village, the river, he learns the history of the places where his adults bring. And at the same time, the history of the whole country, because everything is interconnected and there is no such corner that would not be touched by the breath of time, the breath of events taking place in the Land of Soviets.

There is an island on the Pskov lake. Its width is only two hundred or three hundred meters, and the length is two or three kilometers. This brought Peter Ivanovich Mataev his grandson. They left the small steamer, moored next to the fishing boats, and strolled along the long street, which ran from one end of the village to the other. The island reminded Vanya of a boat diving on the waves: the nose was sharply raised above the water, the feed was low. The water was darkened by large boulders. On the way, many people hailed their grandfather, questioned respectfully about Moscow, where Pyotr Ivanovich was now living, consulted about their personal affairs, rejoiced at the meeting. And got acquainted with the grandson, who was seen for the first time. Fishermen promised to take Vanyusha for fishing.

On this island grandfather's homeland began. Not only because Peter Ivanovich was born here. Here the veteran built the Soviet power, from here in February 1918 he went to fight for her with the whites under Pskov.

In the evening, the grandfather told the boy how he spent his barefoot childhood in the house where they stayed. My father spent a long time on work in St. Petersburg, his mother worked as a loader. A lot of deprivation fell on her share, until the children grew up. In the winter, when the blizzard howled outside the window, it seemed as though the whole area was covered with snow. The white desert stretched for many miles around. And in the autumn storms raged - not weaker than sea ones. In the huts smoldered lunches, kerosene lamps, dimly lit benches and oven. The children-the Mataevs had four of them-often went to bed hungry.

Vanya literally all turned to hearing. And when Peter Ivanovich took him on a visit to his neighbors, he asked me to show a ray or a kerosene lamp. But in the spacious houses the electricity burned brightly, the blue screens of the TVs were shining, just like in Moscow.

The whole day walked along the shore, near the large smooth stones, which Vanya tried to climb. Pyotr Ivanovich asked him to remember the beauty of the places here.

- Grandpa, let's climb up the cliff, "gripped the grandson.

High up the earthen path. Vanyusha's happy eyes glowed with pride: if he could climb up here, then he's strong. And Peter Ivanovich again says:

- Look how beautiful! What a distance in front of us! Ten kilometers to the next island, no less. From the lake in general, the eye does not take.

- Yes, it's beautiful, - Vanya agrees.- Well, let's go higher. ..

Still the boy is more concerned about the hill, which he decided to overcome. Amazing kinds of native nature still touch him little. At this age, it is probably not yet possible to understand this beauty, there is no feeling that the whole earth has opened up before him.

Pyotr Ivanovich, however, does not calm down, wants his grandson now, as a child, to consider and forever fell in love with the island on the Pskov lake. After all, love for one's native nature is an inalienable, essential part of the general patriotic mood, love for the Motherland. This is one of the foundations, pillars, on which a sense of patriotism develops in the young soul. It is not easy to awaken the child's enthusiasm for his native land. Others and adults have inspired themselves: all these flowers, grasses, azure - nonsense, they say, unnecessary lyrics.

At the highest point of the island, Vanyusha still froze in admiration before the wide open vastness. I went to the monument, which Grandfather had told him about in Moscow. Five bayonets, entangled in a fishing net, soared into the sky. Under them lay anchors. At the highest blink, like a lighthouse, a red star, prominent to fishermen from afar.

Then Peter Ivanovich brought his grandson to the museum. His exhibits told about the life of fishermen before the revolution, about their struggle for Soviet power, about the red heroes. Vanya was particularly impressed with the portrait of his grandfather.

was born

Perhaps such a power of emotion captures a child when a person looks at him from a TV screen or a photo in a museum, to which he is accustomed at home. There is a kind of psychological turn. Native people suddenly appear completely different. How many remembered themselves, six-year-old Vanya and his younger brother Petya almost communicated daily with Peter Ivanovich - for them simply grandfather, adoring grandchildren, ready to give them any expensive toy, despite the mother's angry objections. General Mataev dreamed that his grandchildren would follow his path, so the house was filled with toy automata, models of aircraft, tanks. And suddenly - a portrait. ..

In the evening, before going to sleep, Vanya asked how Peter Ivanovich became a military man. It turns out that his grandfather was sent as a soldier during the First World War. After the injury, doctors in the hospital near Pskov long treated his leg. When the rumor spread that the Germans were coming, everyone who could walk left the hospital. With a crutch in his hand, he drove the soldiers to the shore. From there the fellow-countryman sent him to Talabino Island, where Peter Ivanovich first met and became close with those who were preparing a revolutionary coup, then created the Red Guard, defended Soviet power. The teacher was led by Jan Zalita, an Estonian, whose portrait was also hung in the museum.

- And then?- the grandson who was silent grandfather fumbled.

- Next morning I'll tell you.

The boy fell asleep. But almost with the first rays of the sun I again paused Peter Ivanovich:

- And then what happened?

It can be seen that the child's brain is arranged in such a way that it is easy to perceive what is being told about. A fairy tale hears, byl, experiences as if he is involved in events.

Ivan did not take his eyes off his grandfather, did not interrupt a single word, gesture. As if watching the ships of the White Guards on their way to the shore on a stormy night, I saw five Bolsheviks, members of the Revolutionary Committee. Brutally tortured Zalith with his four companions, the enemies threw them into the lake. Later the island received the name of Jan Zalita. And Peter Mataev fought in the civil, fought near Pskov, studied at the academy.

Peter Ivanovich dreamed of perpetuating the memory of the dead revolutionaries. And the collective farm erected an obelisk on the island. Now the lighthouse shines not only for fishermen - many guys

from the island points the way, teaches to serve the Motherland, be courageous, selfless.

. .. In the garrison of the garrison, the signal of the pickup sounded. A moment later, pilots, navigators, technicians ran from the doors of the houses, fastening the jackets as they went, pulling on their helmets. The big gathering means fast, as required by the military regulations, to be on the airfield. The boys looked after him with envy. The garrison life itself called them to the romance of exploits and military service. Hurrying along with everyone, Pyotr Ivanovich Mataev's grandson, Senior Lieutenant Ivan Simonov raced on a motorcycle on the gray belt of the highway to the plane. He remembered at that moment an island, a grandfather, a lighthouse that illuminated his life.

So what is the result of patriotic upbringing, what unites the feeling of love for the Motherland? Of course, this is a love for the native nature, for the native land where you were born, grew up, of which you are a particle. This is a love for your people, and in a more concrete child's way of thinking - to these or other people. This is the feeling that without your native land you can not live, that only here your place and all your activities are aimed at the good of the land that gave you life, for the benefit of the Motherland. On the other hand, patriotism presupposes, of course, deep hatred for those who encroach on your land, on the enemies of the Motherland, on any oppressors, and finally on all cynics for whom the concept of "Homeland" is an empty phrase.

You, naturally, will be interested: how in the family to instill these feelings to the child? There are a lot of ways, in our opinion. One of them may become one about which we have just told: take and go with your son or grandson to a distant island, forever entered into the depths of your heart. Or, say, give up a day or two in the village, where all your roads lay. .. Or,. .

Mother took her son to Brest. It was the eve of 9 May.

- We'll come in the morning, I'll show you the fortress, and in the evening - back to Moscow. You will have time to return to the beginning of the lessons. ..

Brest met them with rain. Chilled, wet, they reached the fortress. And immediately forgot about the bad weather, about the fatigue, about what even did not have breakfast. People from all parts of the country gathered at the entrance, made in the shape of a star. There was a severe song of the forty-first year: "Get up, the country is huge. .."

The son enthusiastically looked at several veterans, courageous defenders of the Brest Fortress, who respectfully gave way. Silently, full of trepidation, he examined the sacred ruins, majestic sculptures erected in honor of the heroes.

Perhaps nothing is more impressive than a young heart, like visiting historical sites, direct communication with those about whom legends are composed. No wonder thousands of people go to the field of Borodino, although the battle here took place more than one and a half centuries ago. And the fortress over Bug also leaves no one indifferent. Can not leave. The boy stroked his hand with a piece of brick, scorched by fire. I listened to the memories of the veterans of the unparalleled defense of Brest. Gray granite monuments, bright colors of real flowers. And the general human flow, united by one thoughts, feelings, in which the boy and his mother walked.

They together lingered in front of portraits of heroes in the museum of defense of the Brest Fortress.

- Look, this is your grandfather. .. - said the mother."And his friends."You read about them the book "The Brest Fortress" by Sergei Smirnov. Peter. Klypa, who fought here as a boy. .. Zubachev, Fomin, Gavrilov. ..

The road to the monument is not just a road to a particular locality, indicated by a circle on the map. And not a path to the simple, manufactured by

hands of craftsmen obelisk at the edge of the forest. It is a road to our past, a heroic past that we and our children should cherish and cherish. Recently, beautiful traditions have been established to create a memory park, a memory field, a memory alley. A grandfather with his grandson is walking along such an avenue - and a living history unfolds before the boy.

In Belarus there is a town of Verhnedvinsk, formerly known as Drissa. Thirty years ago, the pioneers began looking for relatives of officers buried in the central square. Among them - the family of Muscovite Lieutenant Arkady Pantielev. We found a mother, a brother, who carefully preserved Arkady's letters from the front. He also fought, flew a navigator on a bomber, was shot down. Several years I was in the hospital, then worked as an agronomist in the Moscow region. He brought up two sons - the elder in honor of his uncle called Arkady.

Father read to the boys front-line brother news - expensive family relics. Triangles, envelopes with leaflets, calling for mercilessly smashing the enemy."We are quiet now," Arkady wrote.- Only the noise of Belarusian forests. Nature revives. Brooks. The sun. Good moonlit nights. .. But exoticism, a wonderful idyll of spring, there's no time to consider, you must first drive out the fascists. .. "" I'm farther and farther away from you to the west. You see how we beat the enemy. We need only great forces, great patience, and we will wait for the hour of victory. ""Soon there is an end to Hitler and his gang. How much unhappiness they brought to our people! "

Lieutenant Pantielev deserved the Order of the Red Star for having seen the soldiers tremble before the enemy tanks, rushed forward and led the soldiers along with the company commander to attack. The combat mission was completed. Arkady's courage in his last battle was marked by the Order of the Patriotic War II degree. The nephews listened anxiously to the line that had arrived on the eve of the death of their uncle: "My dear! Very much I ask, do not worry, that began to write less often. I am healthy and unharmed, but now there is a lot of work, and besides, I am constantly on the move. But things are good, joyful. Very, very soon we will win, and then we will all get together. "Turning to his brother, Arkady added: "We are happy, we will certainly live. The bottom line is to win and live. Is it true?. . »

Reading these letters to his sons, going with them to Belarus to the grave of his brother, Yakov Pantievlev hardly pursued any high goal. I just thought that children should know how their fathers, relatives, fought with the brown plague. And the guys drew from letters an unlimited love for the Motherland, which subordinated to itself even a thirst for life, understood its origins.

The boy who bore the name of the deceased lieutenant grew up - became an architect. And he planned to create a project of a monument to a common grave in the Belarusian city, where his father took him as a child.

The whole family came to the opening of the monument in Dvinsk.

The road to the monuments of the war years, to the sacred places for the Motherland lies through our lives. She opens the pages of history. That's why we must go along this road with the children. In such a joint step, in joint experiences, the guys are born the right views on life, on the feat. True, sometimes you need to tell something to them, to aim at something, to help you decide correctly. And we, if possible, act in this way. We go shoulder to shoulder. And the future defender of the Fatherland is walking more and more confidently next to you.