The phone rings, the principal calls me to replace his colleague. I go to school to hand over documents, they told me that I have to walk, 22km. One Sunday a bus, the other does not, agree to anything. After half an hour of messages, I can not work I have a college. Oh, and I have a college degree, I work from Monday agreed.
Counting for an hour man crossing 7km, I will need four. Monday 5:45 minutes, I went to a school to have 10 hours to get there. Pedestrians an hour. Catching up with me car, man I ride. We’re talking about a village, a life of peasants, only elderly households. There is often a son, taught him by saying: „It teaches you not to do, son.“ Son obeyed, and straight out of high school, Belgrade. All young people flee the city. We arrived in the village, I go away, another village, so I’m coming to a school where the students are waiting for me. A car passes by, stared me, I am unfamiliar. On my way to another village, see the antiques cafe, tell it. They ask me wherever I was up to, I said that I was a teacher. They call that dairy milk to redeem me a ride, go to the village and on. Oh, I was so relieved, I’m late. I’m coming before, a support worker is waiting for me. What pleasure, Schools plums. School of something bigger than I had imagined, before there were a lot of students, two students now. I watch two classrooms, housing for teachers and room to maybe drank coffee and waited for the parents. Today in the room maljoj three benches, a table, a table and an old stove that withstands years. Two girls, sisters, entering shyly, beautiful, bright children. They have no society, a village with two children. Talking to parents planning to leave the village, I’ll buy a smaller house, I’ll father a comfortable home in the city. Chirping birds, barking dogs, cheerful conversation and leave the village residents. There was the teacher to go on foot, in another village antiques waiting outside a pub. He says go to town and wait for me a lift, I’m touched. How kind of people, it can only rural, insightful, oštoumni spirit, help when it is difficult and without an invitation. People are used to, are seldom younger, have obligations, serious economic crisis, fear of losing a job. Earlier, more frequent visits, now is not the expensive fuel steam.
With my luck, Sunday when a bus drivers strike, again on foot. Shop owner who drives a pick up bread out of me. Get off in front of the pawn shop and on. Put it dragged. I hear the car, I turned around. The car carrying the deceased, nobody ever they pleased, as I do then. The driver tells me that the teacher died, he lived in the city but want to be buried in the village. That is, he lives in a vrćaj to his home village, where there lies your descendants. So day after day, on foot, comradeship, gleeful and cheerful conversation with the villagers, as izput the fly.
Reaches the end of the school year, parents, friends, village poet all come to a show. Two golden head, two sweet voice and my satisfaction, parents, friends. The parents made a decision to move Zajecar. The school will be closed. Villagers ask me what to do next, the bus had at least two weeks of the month. Thanks, sometimes bring drugs, some supplies from the city. We are grateful to the people. The village where the children’s laughter is not heard, children clamor dead village. I’m out of a job.
Perhaps the solution to the abandoned school, student tourism resorts? They can be adapted to an abandoned school holidays. Clean air, healthy, organic food, rich in flora and fauna. This would be a strong potential for growth and employment under power, people stayed in the village. The existence of many would be resolved and the village, the village would be ringing clear and happy people.


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