Time for business is time for fun.
Spring
Merkulova Anastasia
The story of Merkulova's student Anastasia.
Time for business - time for fun!
One day I got stuck!
And it all started so wonderfully! The long-awaited weekend has arrived. Mom, of course, said:
Denis, do your homework now, don’t put it off until later.
The fact is that I am a second-grade student, and I also play in the football section, so I don’t have much time for entertainment.
I prepared all the textbooks, notebooks, pens, and then an interesting book with pictures caught my attention. Then I became interested in an entertaining TV show about the life of a swamp.
It's time for lunch, mom called everyone to the table. After lunch, my friends and I went outside, because fresh air is necessary for good health. After walking around, I sat down to study.
So, I told myself, I’ll start with mathematics.
I clicked through the examples like nuts and proceeded to the problem about the frogs. And then I remembered that due to work, I had to finish the frog. I glued on the cute right eye, sewed on one of the legs and wondered how to spell “little frog” or “little frog” correctly? The thought flashed that I hadn’t done anything in Russian. But I decided to put everything off until tomorrow, since it was time to sleep.
On Sunday I slept until lunch, ate and went to football. Tired, I returned home, my mother reminded me about my lessons, and I opened the reading textbook:
I love the storm in early May. – I started to teach.
Then my younger brother ran up and asked me to fix the machine. We need to help the child! Having repaired the machine, we tested its strength. Suddenly the doorbell rang and guests arrived.
Time flew by. My eyes were closing, I needed to sleep. I left my textbooks in my briefcase.
The first lesson was mathematics. I couldn’t say how many little frogs lived in the swamp, but I remembered very well what kind of herbs and animals were found in the swamp from the TV show.
During the labor lesson, my little frog stood out very much - he had only one leg, a beautiful eye, but also one!
The poem about the thunderstorm also made everyone laugh:
I love the storm in early May. 2:0. The car started!
That's how I got into trouble: three deuces in one day! Since then I have been trying to do my homework on time.
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The story of Merkulova's student Anastasia.
Time for business - time for fun!
One day I got stuck!
And it all started so wonderfully! The long-awaited weekend has arrived. Mom, of course, said:
The fact is that I am a second-grade student, and I also play in the football section, so I don’t have much time for entertainment.
I prepared all the textbooks, notebooks, pens, and then an interesting book with pictures caught my attention. Then I became interested in an entertaining TV show about the life of a swamp.
It's time for lunch, mom called everyone to the table. After lunch, my friends and I went outside, because fresh air is necessary for good health. After walking around, I sat down to study.
So, I told myself, I’ll start with mathematics.
I clicked through the examples like nuts and proceeded to the problem about frogs. And then I remembered that due to work, I had to finish the frog. I glued on the cute right eye, sewed on one of the legs and wondered how to spell “little frog” or “little frog” correctly? The thought flashed that I hadn’t done anything in Russian. But I decided to postpone everything until tomorrow, since it was time to sleep.
On Sunday I slept until lunch, ate and went to football. Tired, I returned home, my mother reminded me about my lessons, and I opened the reading textbook:
I love the storm in early May. – I started to teach.
Then my younger brother ran up and asked me to fix the car. We need to help the child! Having repaired the machine, we tested its strength. Suddenly the doorbell rang and guests arrived.
Time flew by. My eyes were closing, I needed to sleep. I left my textbooks in my briefcase.
The first lesson was mathematics. I couldn’t say how many little frogs lived in the swamp, but I remembered very well what kind of herbs and animals were found in the swamp from the TV show.
During the labor lesson, my little frog stood out very much - he had only one leg, a beautiful eye, but also one!
The poem about the thunderstorm also made everyone laugh:
I love the storm in early May. 2:0. The car started!
That's how I got into trouble: three deuces in one day! Since then I have been trying to do my homework on time.
Today the weather is bad: frost, snowstorm. Those deprived of their freedom were not sent to outside work.
Amelka, according to his request, was demanded for “educational education”. He knew how to read and write quite well, but he deliberately pretended to be illiterate. Well... He'll play the fool, then, you see, he'll make his way to the cultural commission, to the actors, or something... Well, at least to sweep the stage. And there - two days of gestation are counted as three. That's good.
Educational program - a bright, warm room. It does not at all resemble a place of detention. And those sitting in it feel almost free. Students' desks, a table and a soft chair for the teacher. On the walls there are tables with large letters, geographical maps, portraits of leaders, corresponding slogans on red, red cloth; “An illiterate person is like a blind person.” “We are uncultured people, we are poor people, but that’s okay, if only we had the desire to learn.” In the corner there is a black board with chalks.
The teacher has a rather unusual appearance, in a neat jacket, a clean shirt, a tie, and shiny boots. Brown pointed beard, sideburns, hair parted in the middle. He resembles a literature teacher at a boarding school for noble maidens. His name is: Stepan Fedorych Ignatiev; a pharmacist thief, a repeat offender, with a university education.
Hey, how are you, Skhimnikov! To the blackboard... Amelka, smiling stupidly, waddles to the blackboard and takes the chalk.
Draw the letter "A"...
Printed or written?
Both...
With complete pleasure.
Amelka writes something like the letter “Zh” and a series of some meaningless scribbles, then declares:
We are dark... We can't.
Erase it, go to your place,” says the teacher, writes the first five letters of the alphabet himself, orders the younger group to copy each letter thirty times in their notebooks and heads to the middle group:
Dictation! Get ready! Write: “We are not slaves, we are not slaves. We are not slaves, we are not slaves..."
Repeating this phrase in a chanting theatrical tenor, the dandy teacher walks between the desks, dreaming about his imminent release, about the black eyes of Shurka the Gypsy, about the thieves' flight to Moscow, where there is no end to all sorts of possibilities.
- “We are not slaves, we are not slaves...” Did you write it?
Yes, citizen teacher! - someone’s red-haired, shabby head with glasses throws out his hand.
The rest, from sixty-year-old men to bare-moustached young men, are sweating and scratching pencils on paper.
The older group, with heavy snoring and sighing, solves a difficult addition problem.
* * *
The club is located in the house church of the former prison castle. The lively cultural work of the detention house, which houses within its walls more than one hundred prisoners deprived of liberty, is in full swing here. The middle of the church is reserved for the auditorium. On the wings, choirs, and in nooks and crannies there are a number of special-purpose rooms. The most extensive is the office of the head of the educational department. Directly subordinate to him are: the cultural commission, the editorial board and the meeting of educators. Next comes the library council with reading rooms in departments and red corners, an art council with a theater, and in the theater there are performances, lectures, concerts, and film shows. Then a school board with three schools. At the cultural commission there is a meeting of chamber representatives, “culturists”, one from the chamber. And during a meeting of educators, there is a legal bureau, served by a lawyer from among the prisoners.
With the help of such a complex apparatus, the most serious attempts are made to rework the psyche of the criminal, strengthen his will, instill the skills of a useful working life, in a word - to create a useful member of the state family out of a harmful, socially dangerous person.
Theater Hall. The rehearsal for “The Inspector General” is currently underway. The short-legged fat man, who had recently and completely in vain been hit on the neck, has found his element. He plays Osip beautifully. The participants roar with laughter. During the break, when the director taps his wand to rest, the fat man says:
Once in Smolensk, at a gala performance, in the presence of Mr. Governor, I played Osip in the same way. And the day before I spent the whole night playing cards. And you can imagine, I lie down on the bed, hands behind my head. The curtain opens, the audience expects a monologue from me, but I remain silent. You can imagine - I fell asleep like the dead, I even started snoring. And someone from behind the scenes hit me in the face with a floor brush. I jumped up and rubbed my eyes. And there is laughter in the hall. His Excellency got up and left... - The fat man’s eyes became covered with an oily coating; the saggy cheeks trembled with a suppressed smile.
Well, please! - the director shouted. - In places, in places! Prompter, give it!.. Bobchinsky and Dobchinsky, roll like a cock... Emphasize the class stratification more strongly... Mayor! As far as possible, fall into kulak bias. I remind you once again that Gogol’s ideology is tarnished, meaning his correspondence with friends. Therefore, try in every possible way to straighten the ideological line in every gesture... So... prompter!
At that time, four guys were painting the scenery in the auditorium. With their trousers and sleeves rolled up, they walked around with long brushes and laid bold strokes on the canvas. Their main leader, a painter by profession, burglar Mitka Klesh, shouted in chorus:
Put it thicker! The stove, the stove, shade it thicker! For rustic - a thin brush. Where are you, cow, dipping in red lead?! We need some blue! Extend the cornice with white. Ugh, damn... Hit the choke! Blink, put on the highlight! Wait, I ruined it... - And headlong he rushes down from the choir.
One of the busiest little rooms is the editorial board room, where the magazine “Vozrozhdenie” and the wall newspaper “Volchok” are produced. She is all in screams, in the rustle of paper, in the clang of working scissors, in a thick bluish curtain of shag smoke: the smoke eats up the eyes to tears, makes it difficult to breathe, but the disenfranchised writers do not notice this. The youngest of them is the editor. He was barely twenty years old. He has a manly, pale face and long hair. His voice is loud, his gestures are broad, he looks like a provincial poet. His name is Comrade Rovny. Completely alone, not knowing his father, abandoned by his scrubber-mother, from an early age he got mixed up with street children, then he took to the road, became a factory worker, and became a Komsomol member. But, not having a strong will, he fell under the influence of a hooligan gang and was caught trying to win the love of one of the girls through violence. Everything that has happened now seems to him, from a distance, like some kind of foggy nightmare. He is full of internal repentance and makes amends for his guilt with impeccable work in the detention center.
Tapping his palm on the table, he looks through the smoke screen into the sly eyes of a small, fat-headed man standing on the other side of the table, and amid the noisy hubbub he conducts an assertive, firm conversation with him.
“I’m very upset with you, dear comrade,” he says.
And how did I touch you, comrade? - asks the fat-headed man with sly eyes, and his bridled mouth curves like a sickle, ends up.
Who promised a note and doesn’t write it? Who pretends to be conscious, and by the way, just knows that he is sulking at dominoes? It's you, dear comrade.
Where's the topic? - the evil one asks smilingly. - I searched and searched, but I can’t find it. It’s not enough to write that playing cards are made from books, and that swearing makes your ears grow calluses... I’m tired of it.
What, no? - And the editor runs his fingers, stained with paste and ink, through his long hair. - Yes, Comrade Jim, I’ll find you a dozen topics at once. For example, what moment is the USSR going through now?..
Jim took a small step back and shouted, hitting himself in the heart:
Comrade editor! Apparently you think I’m a boy? I may have shed blood on the civil fronts myself... Not all of me spent time in correctional homes. A…
Calm down, calm down! - the editor tried to shout him down, slamming his palm on the tabletop. - So, do you agree that the greatest restraint and unity with the proletariat is now required? And who is the leader of the revolution throughout the world?
Bolsheviks. Clear.
Who is the mouthpiece of the revolution?
Soviet press.
Does our detention center subscribe to many newspapers? For seven hundred people we subscribe to twenty newspapers in total. Two newspapers per camera... Shame!
“I understand,” Jim said. - Give me, Comrade Rovny, a sheet of paper. In an hour the feuilleton will be ready. The internal telephone rings.
Hello, hello!.. Yes, yes, editor. Is this glassgraphy? Now... - And, turning into smoke, he shouts: - Samoglotov! Bear!..
There is Mishka! What do you want?
How many pages are there in a newspaper?
Twelve…
Hello! Are you listening?.. Twelve pages... Is the magazine ready? One hundred copies... I'll be right there. And more screams:
Who has gum arabic?
What the hell did you do with the bun, or what, did you eat him?..
Hush hush! Sha!.. Comrade Makhnev, read... The brisk, dark-haired, withered-faced poet cleared his throat consumptively and creaked like a cricket:
SOVIET ISPRADOM
That time was not so long ago.
I read about our correctional home,
But soon fate promised me
Find out all the order in it.
There is a citizen, deprived of his freedom,
He will find his favorite work,
Forget past troubles
He will find a place to rest his heart.
Not what it was under tsarism:
Nobody wears shackles.
Here they are released for the homeland
Already corrected sons.
Never had any regrets
That I’m in a correctional home,
But I’m even glad that this happened:
I work here with love!!
Stupid!.. Unreasonable,” someone interrupted him from the smoke screen, “You’re really luring citizens into a correctional home: please, they say, it’s much better here than in the wild.” Where is the ideology, where is the meaning? We need more salt, self-criticism... And rhyme... No, it won’t do...
Comrades! Stop smoking!.. Open the window and go into the living room for five minutes...
A stream of fresh air poured out of the frosty darkness. The deportee unlocked the door, and under his supervision, the disenfranchised writers all walked out of the smokehouse into the auditorium where the actors were working.
The rehearsal is not going well. The director, Comrade Polumyasov, bilious, wrinkled, with a black painted mustache, is serving a sentence for serving in the Tsarist secret police. At one time he played a lot in amateur provincial performances; he was an experienced, demanding, nervous person. And then, as luck would have it, the assistant to the head of the house himself, a useless artist, clumsy as a bookcase, and hasty in words, wanted to take part in the performance. He played Tyapkin-Lyapkin, the judge.
“It’s not like that, citizen chief, it’s not like that,” the sweaty long-legged Polumyasov, like an ostrich, interrupted him. - I told you that when you say: “Yes, something bad is brewing,” you should move here to the front of the stage. And, for God's sake, don't show your back to the public.
The boss was recovering somehow. But the director taught him again:
More life! What are you doing with your hands?..
The boss was sulking, but tried to restrain himself. Finally the director’s nerves burst, he shouted to the boss:
Turn your face to the audience, not your back! Don't mince your words. Speak separately!.. After all, this is not a game, but God knows what...
The boss turned purple:
Who am I here?! Do you want to be alone? - He spat in the left wing, pulled his cap down and left.
It became quiet. The pale director was shaking, nervously biting off pieces of the match and spitting it out. The editorial board, pushing and laughing, poured into the refreshed room.
Here the wife of Gogol’s mayor, Anna Andreevna (disqualified from Kolechkin’s female department), approached her daughter, Marya Antonovna (disqualified from Zontikova), and asked her:
On what basis are you spreading the vile gossip that I am writing love notes to the bread-cutter Mitka?
Nothing like that... I don’t know,” Marya Antonovna, the mayor’s daughter, shook her curls. - And as for your Mitka, he’s a known scoundrel, and I don’t give a damn about him...
Oh you bitch! - the mayor shouted.
I hear it from a bitch!
Both artists exchanged ringing backhand slaps and fiercely grabbed their hair.
Cool down, cool down! - the guard shouted. - March to the cells!
The rehearsal is over. The exit sent the artists to their places.
In the evening everything settled down. Tyapkin-Lyapkin gently led the director by the arm and said to him:
Come on, friend... Don't be angry. You, brother, although you are a director, are a prisoner... But I am still the boss...
Yes, I, citizen boss, did not even think of offending you...
Well, well... It was and is past... Let's go.
The entire troupe gathered again in the illuminated hall. The rehearsal this time was amicable. Tyapkin-Lyapkin pulled himself up. Anna Andreevna and Marya Antonovna also made peace: not a word is said about the villain Mitka the grain-cutter.
- Find the meaning of the word time in a dictionary or on the Internet. Write the definition in your own words.
Time is the duration of something, measured in seconds, minutes, hours. This is the score by which a person’s learning, work, and good deeds are assessed.
- How do you understand expressions?
Time passes - life goes on.
Time flies - years pass quickly.
Time drags on - minutes turn into hours.
Time will tell - time will put everything in its place.
Time does not wait - time does not stand still, we must use it before it is gone.
For the time being - until a certain point.
To gain time is to wait.
- Write a few sentences using these phrases.
Either it barely lasts, or, on the contrary, time rushes quickly.
Time passes and it is never allowed to stop.
Time must be valued, time must be protected, because time does not wait.
- Come up with and write down a funny story. Use pictures.
On Thursday there was a test at school and Kolya was late for class.
- What's happened? – asked the teacher.
- I set the alarm clock, but at night it flew away from me on a spaceship.
- Yes Yes! We saw through the window how he flew higher than the birds - the guys laughed.
- Honestly, I asked him not to do this. My sister pulled him back through the door. But he didn't listen. My time ran away from me along with the alarm clock. But tomorrow I will overtake him and arrive first. There's no test tomorrow?
The essay “Business is time, fun is an hour” is written in literature lessons by primary or secondary school students. In their works, children analyze a well-known saying and give it their own interpretation. One of the essays written by a 5th grade student is offered to your attention.
Everyone knows the Russian folk proverb “There is time for business, time for fun.” I, too, have heard it more than once, and recently I wondered what it means? What did our ancestors want to tell us with this immortal phrase?
As you know, the Russian people have always been very hardworking. He grew grain, raised livestock, and practiced various crafts. The whole world knows about some of our craftsmen! Therefore, it is not surprising that it was these people who came up with such a saying.
Time is a long, even endless period. And so, the proverb encourages us to devote it to some cause. But this does not mean that you need to work without breaks. The authors of the saying immediately clarify that some hour must be set aside for rest. Because there is another famous popular phrase: “Work makes horses die.” And so it is! There must be a limit to everything.
And here I would also like to remember this saying: “If you’ve done the job, walk boldly.” This is what my dad always says and does this himself. This means that you need to complete your duties first and then rest. Do your homework, do some housework, and then sit down at the computer, in front of the TV, or go for a walk in the yard.
It seems to me that the authors of two sayings: “There’s time for work, there’s an hour for fun,” and “When you’ve done your job, go for a walk” meant approximately the same thing. First work - then rest. And you need to work for a long time, and relax a little. This is the law of life. If a person were lazy, he would remain primitive. Or even a monkey.
Only hard work can produce great results. We see this at every step. Anyone who does their homework diligently gets good grades. Anyone who trains a lot becomes a famous athlete. Anyone who strives for a goal will definitely achieve it!
When I come home, I want to throw my briefcase away and not even think about it. Probably many students have this desire. But I wash my hands, have lunch, sit at the table and do my homework. And only then, with pleasure from the work done, I go to play with my brother, or watch cartoons, or go outside.
Because I know: “There is time for work, time for fun”! People came up with this wisdom many centuries ago, and it still helps us a lot in life!
Essay on the topic “Business is time, fun is an hour”
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Nothing educates a person like business. It’s a meaningful undertaking, the results of which you can be proud of. If moral and material incentives are skillfully combined, a genuine culture at work will ultimately emerge. But business not only educates a person, it helps to achieve certain heights in any endeavor.
People have always respected hardworking people. And in folklore we find a lot of evidence of this. Take, for example, the proverbs and sayings: “Patience and work will grind everything down”, “Even water does not flow under a lying stone”, “Work is bitter, but bread is sweet”, “Time for business is an hour for fun.” Since childhood, we have heard from adults that we should not put off until tomorrow what can be done today. And indeed it is. For example, sometimes it happens that you don’t want to sit down for homework. And then gaps in knowledge gradually appear, and it is very difficult to fill them later. Therefore, you must try to do something every day. And a job well done always brings joy and a sense of satisfaction. One of my favorite stories, which I read when I was little and remembered forever, is M. Stetsenko’s story “Sweet Water”. It talks about the boy Mitya and his grandfather. “Mitya’s grandfather is interesting. He doesn’t sit idle for a single minute,” notes the author. And then one day the grandfather was working in the yard, and his grandson was resting nearby, lying on the grass.
After hard work, deciding to take a break, grandfather went to the stream and began to drink, and after drinking, he said: “What sweet water!” Mitya was surprised; he always drank water and never felt it was sweet. The grandfather replied that the water is not sweet for everyone, and asked Mitya to help him. Mitya got to work, was very tired, and when he drank water to quench his thirst, he felt that it was really sweet. This is how the real secret was revealed to him: work ennobles a person, and the reward for a job done seems much more pleasant. Of course, we shouldn’t forget about rest either, but we must first earn it. “If you’ve done your job, go for a walk,” people say.