Finding a Preschool

Now that we’ve found an apartment to live in, the next thing on our checklist is to find a preschool for K.  The first thing M and I need to agree on is which language we want K to be learning in – Russian, Tajik or English.  M wants English and I want Russian, so we know that Tajik is out.  After much reflection on this, we decide it would be great for K to learn Russian at an early age (he already speaks in quite well for a 3-year old) and where better to do this than in Tajikistan, a former Soviet republic?  “I’ll be speaking to him in English at home so he won’t lose it” I tell M one evening after putting K to bed.  We can always put him in an English school as he grows older if we want to. So in search of a Russian preschool in the city, I contact friends and old-colleagues of mine who live in Dushanbe and have children – they share their experiences with Russian schools and give me the phone numbers of schools to contact.  But this is not where we find the school K is currently attending as I write.  It is the suggestion of the principal of a nearby school that is closing for a few months due to some upcoming renovations.  She tells us about a new private Russian school, called Panda, where her friend, Gulnora, is the principal.  M speaks with her to get some more information about the school and asks when we can come by and see it.  She invites us to come later that day.  So off we go to catch a taxi during a busy lunch hour in the city.

After numerous taxis filled with passengers pass us on Rudaki street, the biggest street in the city, M finally flags one down and mutually agrees on a reasonable price with the driver.  We have the address, but after driving for about 15 minutes (we’ve been told it’s only a 10-minute drive), we can’t find it.  This is nothing new since street signs are not as visible in Dushanbe, Tajikistan as they are back home in Vancouver.  We pass an elementary school and ask a lady selling knickknacks on the side of the road where the school is.  She points in the direction of the street we just drove down and motions for us to turn right and keep going for a while, or at least this is how I interpret her hand gestures and tone of voice while not understanding a word she is saying in Tajik, the national language.   The taxi driver, a young man who seems to want to impress me with his loud music on the radio, makes a quick u-turn back to where we came from and then I hear both him and M, who is sitting in the front passenger seat, both say “there it is” in Russian.  Strangely enough, the preschool is located right behind the woman we asked for directions.  Mental note – always, keep your eyes on the lookout and don’t trust the directions someone gives you.  We get out of the taxi and I smile as we head towards a big gray gate at the end of the alleyway painted with some big white and black pandas and cars from the popular children’s movie bearing the name.  After ringing the doorbell, we are greeted by a woman in a white uniform and hat, similar to the ones worn by nurses at the hospitals here.  M lets her know that we are here to see the principal, Gulnora, whom he spoke to earlier about coming to see the school.   K’s face lights up with a smile probably bigger than mine as he looks around the huge garden filled with swings, a basketball net, balls, toys, and a rabbit running around (yes, I did say rabbit).  We’re immediately shown the way to the principal’s office, requested to take off our shoes and put them aside since no one is allowed to wear shoes in the school. 

The corridor opens up into a lunchroom with a checker board decorated floor, an aquarium and where the kids are seated on small red wooden chairs at tables that fit 4-5 of them, eating their lunch.  As I walk by I look to see what they are eating – macaroni and meat sauce – “looks good” I think to myself. We turn left into Gulnora’s office, a woman in her late-50s nicely dressed in a spinach green two-piece suit who looks up at us through her thick black rimmed glasses that are taped up on one side.  “Privet” (hello in Russian) she says and asks us to come sit down.  We tell her that we’re looking for preschool for our 3-year old son and she begins to give us very detailed information about the school – she was so thorough that she answered almost all my questions before I could answer them.  Gulnora has an aura of authority about her that is typical of a Soviet era bureaucrat and this is quickly contrasted by the sweet way in which she speaks to K and the other children who come into her office while we talk.  Across from her opened door, there is a staircase.  While talking to us, she tells the children running up the stairs to be careful and walk slowly. 

She continues by telling us that this school follows the Russian school curriculum where the children go through the day learning various subjects like mathematics, Russian literature, culture as well as do activities that help promote their fine motor skills, artistic abilities (they have music class once a week and perform plays) and physical education.  The school hours are from 8 to 5 and they provide a pick up and drop off school bus option with 3 meals a day (breakfast that consists of oatmeal and various grained cereal, lunch that consists of vegetables and protein and then an afternoon snack including blinchik, cottage cheese and some baked goods) – all the food is made fresh daily at the school kitchen.  During the meeting, the owner of the house where the school is located, who happens to be a graduate of one of the American funded fellowship walks in the room and sits on the chair at the back of the room.  Gulnora introduces him as Fariddun, the owner and her boss.  I am immediately taken aback at the words she chooses to use since it is very unusual in this context for a younger person to be the boss of an older person.  His demeanor is respectful and quiet.  Happy to hear him speak English, we begin chatting about the six years he spent studying business administration at Omaha State University in Nebraska.

A few minutes later, Gulnora asks if I have any questions before she takes us on an excursia (tour) of the school.  I tell her that I only have one question to ask her and that had to do with how they discipline children when they are misbehaving or fighting with other children.  I was later to find out that Gulnora was probably stumped by this question because it’s not something most parents ask here.  I was very impressed with her answer – they don’t punish the children, they remove them from the situation and explain why the behaviour is not acceptable and they put them in time-out like we do back home.  If the behaviour continues, she talks to the parents and helps them deal with the situation at home.  I am so engrossed in the conversation that I forget that K is not sitting on the couch next to me – he has gone outside to play with one of the teachers.  We go and look for K who is playing outside with some coloured plastic balls and asking the teacher if she can pick a persimmon from the tree above.  “Do you want to come to this school tomorrow?” I say to K and he immediately responds “No, I want to go to this school now.” I take this as a good sign and accept the offer to keep K there for the rest of the afternoon to try it out. 

We pick K up a few hours later only to find him playing on the trampoline with the other kids and not wanting to go home.  “This is the school for us” I say to M who is smiling while watching K who is talking to a little girl in Russian.