An old photo from a family album.
Poland Alexandra
student of grade 3 "B" MBOUSOSH No. 2
supervisor:
Primary school teacher MBOUSOSH No. 2 Rozhkova Marina Mikhailovna
I was recently looking through a family album and came across a photo that caught my attention. It was old, yellowed, and one corner was broken off. It depicts an elderly man. I asked my relatives, who is he? And here's the answer I got.
This is my great-grandfather. The photo is old, because he was born in 1911, his name was Sergey Andreevich Verbitsky. He was a participant in the Great Patriotic War.
Great-great-grandfather told his grandchildren (now my mother, aunt, uncles) a lot about the cruelty of the war. The Germans were merciless, they killed women and children, starved everyone. Nobody spared! Grandfather Sergei believed that he managed to survive during this difficult period, thanks to the great love of his wife (my great-great-grandmother). From the war, my grandfather brought not only awards that are still carefully kept in the family, but also two wounds, many injuries.
It is a pity that he did not live to this day. I would love to hear his stories about the war. My interest in the yellowed photograph rallied our large family: we went to visit relatives to hear their memories, even recorded them for future children. After all, this is the memory of our entire family.
And now I know not only from books, films, teacher's stories that war is bad, scary, but also from the memories of my family. I wish all the peoples of the world that they do not have to go through such a time in their lives, although in different parts of the world it constantly bursts into the homes of civilians with shots and explosions!
On the topic: methodological developments, presentations and notes
This material is a story about my family tree. The material is collected according to the stories of my relatives....
Flipping through the pages of the family album
An extra-curricular event using research data on the relatives of teachers and students of the TsPRRK No. 12 who participated in the Great Patriotic War. ...
Lesson "Photo from the family album"
The lesson "Photograph from a family album" is aimed at educating students to preserve the memory of their parents, the history of the country. A wealth of didactic material has been collected. Used in the lesson presentation, ...
Home > EssayMOU "Secondary school named after. MM. Rudchenko, Perelyub village, Perelyubsky district, Saratov region
Composition
"Photo from
family album"
Performed:
8th grade student Wetland TayPhoto from a family album.
In our family album there is an old photograph taken in 1959. This is an unusual photo. My grandparents loved to look at her. But I don't remember what they said about her. When my mother picks up the album, she also looks at this photo for a long time and tells me about it. The photo shows the platform of the Moscow railway station. Passengers are boarding near the car. This is where my grandparents are. They are quite young. A seven-year-old boy is standing next to his grandfather. This is my mother's brother, Uncle Sasha. And a little to the side stands a four-year-old girl, in a flared coat and a knitted hat with lace. She looks curiously into the lens. That's my mom. My grandfather is a former military sailor. Served in the Far East as midshipman of the Pacific Fleet. There he met my grandmother and they got married. In 1959, grandfather and grandmother decided to move to their grandfather's homeland - to the Saratov region. There was a long way to go from Vladivostok to Moscow, then from Moscow to Saratov. And now the whole family is standing on the platform of the Moscow railway station. Now they must get into the car and go to Saratov. Grandpa is very serious. After all, it was he who decided to leave the naval service and take the whole family nine thousand kilometers. Grandma smiles. She needs to support her grandfather, her eyes seem to say: "Everything will be fine, we will survive everything." My seven-year-old uncle, like my grandfather, is serious. After all, he considers himself a man, and if dad is serious, then he must be the same. And only a four-year-old girl does not understand that this is not just a transfer to another train, but a sharp turn in the life of the whole family. A girl from a small port has never seen so many people, and now everything is interesting to her at the station. Probably, the photographer told her that a bird is about to fly out, and she looks into the lens with curiosity. My grandparents died almost on the same day and were buried in the same grave. And in the photo they are very young. Alive and well. Now they will sit in the car with my mother and uncle. The train will move, and there will be a long road, and there will be a whole life ahead. In the meantime, a little girl looks into the lens with curiosity and waits for a bird to fly out ...
Class hour: "Family. Family Traditions (1)
Classroom hourThe family is the cradle of a person's spiritual birth. The variety of relations between its members creates a favorable environment for the emotional and moral formation of a person.
Class hour: "Family. Family Traditions (2)
Classroom hourToday we are talking about the family and the relationship in it, about family holidays and traditions. Our family is the closest people who will help in difficult times, and will rejoice at your success more than anyone else.
Books and generously shares memories, observations and photographs from
Book77-year-old Margaret Castaneda is a very intelligent and tactful woman. As she explained when publishing the book in 1997, “There is a time for everything.
Reviewers: Doctor of Pedagogy, Professor of the Department of Aesthetic Education
DocumentF796 Formation of the orientation of children of senior preschool age to the world of the family: a practice-oriented monograph / O.V. Dybina [and others] / ed.
The main educational program of the educational institution Primary
Main educational programThe main educational program determines the content and organization of the educational process at the level of primary general education and is aimed at the formation of a common culture of students, their spiritual, moral, social,
Composition"What the old photograph told me."
Recently, at school, we were given the task of writing essay on an old photo. I found probably the most old photo, which we had at home, and that's what I got.
In front of me lies an old yellowed photograph. It shows my grandmother. They put her on a chair, gave her a little baby, but she is still frightened and crying, because she wants to be held by her mother, because my grandmother is here a little over a year old, she is very small.
Grandmother is dressed in a cotton dress and a hat made of satin ribbons. Previously, they sewed clothes themselves, for my grandmother this dress and hat were sewn by her grandmother, who is my great-great-grandmother.
This photograph is very dear to our family: it was taken more than fifty years ago, and this is the only image of my grandmother at such an early age.
And then I wanted to write about another photo, I also found it interesting, although it is not as old as the previous one.
This photo shows my mother with her younger sister, my aunt. The photo was taken in late spring: the snow has already melted, the ground has dried up, last year's garbage has been removed, but the green grass has not yet appeared, there are no young leaves on the trees either.
However, the weather is warm. We can understand this from the fact that mother and aunt are lightly dressed. My aunt is wearing a jacket, and my mother is generally in a summer dress.
You look at these girls and you understand that they are happy: they smile, they laugh. The aunt is holding an old doll wrapped in a baby coat in her hands. Mom decided to take the cat for a ride on the stroller, but the cat breaks out and does not want to sit in it. Mom tries to keep the cat in order to be with her in the frame. Mom's hair was disheveled, one of the braids was almost unraveled, she probably ran enough after the cat until she caught it.
Our family values this photo very much, because, like the previous one, it exists in a single copy. In addition, this photo was taken by my mother's great-uncle, when he, for the only time in his life, came to visit us from Ukraine. Therefore, looking at this photo, we also remember him.
Branch of MBOU Volchkovskaya secondary school in the village. Rakhmanino
Petrovsky district, Tambov region
The subject of the essay is
"Family album photo"
4th grade student
branch in the village Rakhmanino
Head: Belyaeva T.A.,
teacher of history and social studies
S. Rakhmanino, 2015
The house is reliable, if they keep it in it
Through the years, dashing times,
Family album, the very first volume,
In the knowledge of the history of Russia.
N. Rubtsov
Each family has its own roots, its own unique history, its own memories. Our family has its own relic, which is of great value to us. This is a family album, where the memory of relatives is stored, about what has been experienced over the years.
In cares, the years imperceptibly fled,
We filled this album with the whole family.
Come on, let's look through it with you,
What you were, what we have become.
Family album - yellowed photos -
Suddenly, the memory will tell you something forgotten,
Can turn the hands of the clock back,
Stretch a thread from the past to us.
In the evening, when we gather with the whole family, I like to look at family photos again and again. I turn page after page and recognize familiar faces. With this photos my kindest and most beautiful mother in the world is looking at me, next to her is my father, my most beloved in the world, bright photos of my older sister flash by. Here is a favorite portrait from childhood, from which my grandmother, my mother’s mother, smiles affectionately at me. To her left, a rosy-cheeked, chubby toddler in a beautiful dress is me.
But there is a photo in this album that is not like our modern ones. I take it in my hands with excitement, the young, handsome face of a man in military uniform is looking at me. His facial features remind me of someone very dear. I stealthily shift my gaze from the photo to my dad. A dumb question froze in his eyes, to which dad proudly answered: “This is your great-grandfather - Belyaev Fedor Fedorovich!”. Dad tremblingly took the photo and in a quiet voice, slowly began to tell the family story, which he had heard as a child.
So from his story I learned that my great-grandfather was born and lived in our native village of Rakhmanino. Before the war, he worked as a tractor driver on a collective farm. When in 1941 the terrible news about the beginning of the war came to the village, men began to be called to the front. My great-grandfather had a reservation because he was a good tractor driver. But he believed that he had to protect his family, his homeland from the Nazis and went to the front as a volunteer, leaving his wife at home with two small children.
Letters from the front came infrequently. But all of them were filled with care and love for children, dear wife. Great-grandfather believed that they would soon drive the Nazis out of their native land. The last letter the family received from Novorossiysk was in 1942. Fedor Fedorovich wrote that a part of them was standing by the Black Sea, when there is a new address, he will inform. But the family did not wait for more letters, the great-grandfather went missing.
War is over. All those who did not receive a funeral, waited for their fathers, sons from the front. My great-grandfather did not return from that terrible war. But he will forever remain in our memory, our memories. He is next to us, in the Immortal Regiment, every year he celebrates the great Victory! His name is forever frozen on the granite stone of the memorial, which was opened this year in our village in honor of the 70th anniversary of the Victory.
Every year on May 9 my family watches the Victory Parade on Red Square in Moscow with great pride and respect. This parade is in honor of those heroes who defended their Motherland, among whom was my great-grandfather Fedor Fedorovich Belyaev.
My dear great-grandfather, I only saw you in an old yellowed photograph. But I am your continuation, I bear your last name and I promise to always be your worthy great-granddaughter. I remember! IM proud of!
The photo. How much she can tell us!.. Leafing through the pages of the family album, I relive the events that are captured in the photo. “How beautiful! This is us with the whole family in a pine forest - the air there is clean, clean, some kind of transparent! And this is me, very small, with funny curls, in funny shorts and with multi-colored balloons in my hands. Wedding color photos of dad and mom - both serious, solemn, with flowers. Mom recently told me that her bride’s bouquet, when she threw it, fell into the hands of a twelve-year-old boy, everyone laughed so much! in the summer at grandpa Tolya's. Oh, what is this picture? A small black-and-white photograph fell out of the album, yellowed from time to time ...
Ba, grandma? Look what I found.
Grandmother sat at the table in the kitchen and made dumplings for dinner. I placed the photo carefully on the table.
Look, some unfamiliar children, who are they?
This photograph is over sixty years old,” she replied.
- The girl is me, I was 9 years old then. And this is my younger brother Tolya, here he is about seven.
I looked at the little girl. Thin, long braid over the shoulder. And how carefully he hugs his younger brother with his thin arm. Is this my grandmother Toma? And then the grandmother began her story in a low, low voice:
1943 ... Outside the window frost, the wind briskly tosses snowflakes. I am sitting by the window, and in my thoughts: “Where are you, dad? Why are not you here?" My father, Yakov Konstantinovich, was called to the front in the very first days of the war. I almost didn’t remember him, I only remember how he played with me - he carried me on his shoulders, he carved a wooden doll ... Following my father, two of his younger brothers went to the front. I was four years old, my brother was even younger. He crawled across the cold, unpainted floor, we had no toys, we played with mugs, spoons, and other household utensils. Mom worked a lot, she needed to somehow feed us. She also helped her sister and her children, who lived even worse: they ate grass and swelled from hunger. I remember our village, all pitted with ditches - we hid there when there were bombings ... The howl of planes, the roar of engines - I still remember it! .. After one of the bombings, I began to stutter, cried a lot.
When the village was captured by the Nazis, my grandfather Konstantin was ordered to work for them. He was the chairman of the collective farm. Without arousing suspicion in the enemy, Konstantin helped his fellow villagers, prisoners and wounded, at night he carried food to the partisans. When the war ended, the "traitors to the motherland" were called to account, and grandfather fell under the "execution article."
Shoot the traitor,” the man in uniform ordered coldly. But the whole village stood up for the grandfather, and they let him go!
Grandmother's eyes either filled with tears, or, on the contrary, shone mischievously and young. She fell silent, thought about something ... “Baba, my dear woman, what grief you all experienced!”
What about your father, his brothers? They are back? Did your mother survive? I quietly broke the silence.
My father never returned. We received a letter that he was missing. How mom screamed when she found out about it, how Tolya and I cried, not understanding why she was beating her head on the floor! Both of my father's brothers returned - invalids. Uncle Kolya - without a leg. There was a shootout, he and his two colleagues crawled to the hut where the Nazis settled. Explosion! Uncle Kolya was wounded in the leg, and his comrades were torn apart right before his eyes. Many years later, I asked him: “Was it not scary to go into battle?” He replied: “You know, Toma, when they shout:“ Forward! For the Motherland! ”, Fear is dulled, such hatred for the Nazis appears. The worst thing is when your friends die, it's scary to bury them in mass graves. A huge pit, two to three meters deep, the size of a hut, is a grave. The first ones are laid facing the ground, the next - in the intervals between the first and second, the third and fourth, head to head ... And so the bodies were buried up to five hundred, or even up to a thousand ... "
And Uncle Fedya reached Berlin, was wounded in the spine, was treated for a long time, moved to Moscow, helped Tolya and me, both with money and with parcels. At the age of 11, I was left an orphan - my mother died of tuberculosis. And after the war, she worked hard, raising my brother and me. You, my granddaughter, were named after your great-grandmother Anya.
How much you all had to endure, woman, - I said, hugging my grandmother.
Taking the old photograph carefully, I quietly left the room.
What a terrible price mankind paid for my life, for the life of my parents, for the life of my future children! How much blood was shed, how many lives were taken by the war! God forbid that we only know about the war from history books.
I understand how important it is to love! To love a blooming dandelion outside the window, a butterfly flying past, to love life, to love each other. After all, love is the most powerful weapon, a weapon against war!
…After straightening the corners of the photo, I carefully put it back into the album. How much an old photo from a family album can tell! ..
The same photograph that evoked so many memories of a distant and terrible war.
Paranina Anna, 16 years old, Novoselovskaya school No. 5, grade 10
