Not everyone can live up to their parents’ expectations. In the eyes of her relatives, Helena has become a traitor.
And why is that? Because she did not want to be a teacher. This is the story Helena herself shared. I have never seen my grandfather, but I knew that he was the director of an evening school. And my great-grandfather was also a teacher. For as long as I can remember, my mother checked my copybooks on the Russian language in the evenings, and my grandmother taught our children singing. I have a pedagogical dynasty, which is why all my relatives sighed when, as a child, I seated dolls and gave them homework. Truth be told, I had little life experience other than school, no vivid experiences in fact. And anyway, I think kids always play what they see.
But here my grandmother and mother were sure that I would definitely become a teacher. In the third grade I was told that I had to study more, not play with dolls, because the teacher’s daughter can’t get C’s. Yes, sometimes I slipped in bad grades. It happens that way. This was talked about so often and so much that I gradually hated the teaching profession. I wasn’t going to tie my life to that profession. I didn’t want to teach children. I wanted to be a pharmacist. I was given a choice without choice. My grandmother used to say: “No problem. You like chemistry and biology, so go teach those subjects. I protested, but at the age of 17 my mother pressured me and I had to give in.
Only after two years I realized that I could no longer. Secretly from relatives I left the pedagogical university and entered at the call of my heart. It all came out when I was already in my second year. My mother decided to get me an internship at a nearby school. She made arrangements with a friend of hers, who was supposed to be my mentor. I had to tell her that I had dropped out of university and would never teach children. What accusations poured down on my head. My mother and grandmother screamed that I was the only person who could continue the centuries-old teaching dynasty. And now it’s all interrupted only because I don’t know what I want.
My mother still thinks that I am to blame for my grandmother’s cancer and my grandfather’s heart attack. But my grandmother and I made up before she died. She seemed sympathetic to my choice at the time. My mother said that she needed money for treatment, and my husband and I gave all of our savings. At the time we were saving up for our own apartment. We gave almost everything away. We had to live on a rented one. I’m not going to lie, I thought about the fact that when we died we would get my grandmother’s apartment.
And in my thinking was common sense, since I was the only granddaughter and only daughter. But I was wrong. My grandmother did not tell me anything, but she had written her will to the grandson of the man she had loved in her youth. That is, grandmother tracked down this man and gave him the apartment. And the granddaughter was left without a place to live, with a 7-month-old baby in her arms. Her mother also knew about her grandmother’s decision, but she kept quiet. So they punished the traitor. But I still can’t understand how my principled grandmother could accept money from my husband and me, when she already knew that I would not get the apartment.
My husband and I stood our ground. He got a second job. He lost a lot of weight, only his eyes were left on his face. He worked, gritting his teeth, without a word of reproach for the fact that we had spent all our savings to fight my grandmother’s illness. There was little help from me. I could not go to work, since the child was not even a year old yet. At that age, children need their mother a lot. But we survived. I didn’t ask my mother for anything. And I never will. It seemed to me that the most important thing for parents is their children’s happiness. But how can a person who does not like what he or she does be happy? But for my relatives, the most important thing was not my happiness, but their personal beliefs.
My mother resents me, her ideal is the daughter of a friend. She’s a teacher, and that’s all my mother needs. I suspect that my mother will also rewrite the apartment to her. So be it. And for one minute I have not regretted the fact that I chose to specialize as a pharmacist. And most importantly for me is that I get unconditional support from my husband. I am happy in my family life, fulfilled in my profession, and what else does a man need?
What do you think, is it correct that parents dictate what their children should do in life, or everyone has the right to make this choice independently?
What would you like to say to the heroine and her mother?
