A day in the life, and observations of Russian universities

I’ve started to fall into a regular pattern in my days. It’s comforting, I think, to have a regular path to follow in an unfamiliar place, though I think once I get to know the people and the area a little more, I’ll branch out. I’d like to hope so, at least…

I wake up every morning at 7 or 8, depending on when my first class is. I get myself up and ready, and head out the door to start my walk to the main campus, which hosts the Department of Philology (Фил Фак), my colleagues and classmates for the month. I brought my camera along yesterday to document my journey for the curious (and I’ll be honest upfront—I only took pictures of the nicest parts of my walk).

This is a typical neighborhood block. Most people in the town have quite extensive gardens, some with vegetable gardens, fruit trees, and maybe even a greenhouse.

Some people also keep fowl. I nearly tripped over a wandering rooster today in front of this same house. They’re all over the place, though perhaps not quite as common as the small dogs that roam the streets. Speaking of animal companions that can be found on the roads, I tried to snap a picture of the lizards or the toad that I saw, but they were all too quick for me.


This is my favorite corner along my path. I think the house is quite nice, and they have a beautiful garden out front. I like to take the particular route that leads me down this street. I imagine it’s one of the nicer areas of the town.


After half an hour or so, I reach the gates of the main campus. The path that leads up to the buildings is lined by flowers and birch trees, so I immediately feel as if I’m entering a truly Russian environment.

The main campus building used to be a kindergarden (the school is only about ten years old, which might account for what I can only assume to be remnants of the детский сад), and quite honestly, to my eyes, it still resembles one from the outside. The whole place is like one big garden (a взрослый сад, perhaps?).

The penguin trashcans are perhaps my favorite part of the campus. Again, I can only assume they’re left over from the building’s kindergarden days (I saw similar penguin trashcans at a local primary school, too).

Arriving at the Institute, I check the Фил Фак schedule to see what classes are available for the day, but more often than not, either a member of the faculty will lead me off to some class or a student will come up and ask, “Ты с нами?” and before I have time to answer, will take me by the arm and lead me to class. I don’t complain or question—I usually end up where I want to be anyway. After class, I’m usually invited to the faculty room (кафедра) for tea, after which I’m either off to another class or to the library. I usually hang around the building until 3pm or so, and then head home.

On my walk home yesterday, I went down a different street than usual, and found a huge weeping willow.

I was so excited that I took a picture of myself with it.

When I get back to the dorm (pictured below), I usually spend the afternoon reading and watching television (for listening practice, I tell myself), then make myself some dinner, read some more or chat with visitors, shower, make myself some tea (a habit to which I’m becoming quite accustomed), and go to bed.

I’m coming to understand the Russian university system, and the more time I spend in the Institute, the more differences I notice between Russian universities and American universities. For one thing, Russian students enter university after the eleventh form—that is, at age seventeen, at which point they’re expected to know exactly what they want to study, because they enter their department immediately in their first year. Of course, to make it that far, they have to pass the requisite state exams. It was very difficult for me to explain to some teachers and students that in the United States, the exam, though important, does is not the only factor in whether or not a student is accepted to a particular university. It was also hard to explain that in general, students in American universities do not have to pick their major or their department until after as many as two years. In Russia, if you change your mind about what you want to do after a few years, there isn’t a whole lot you can do about it.

I don’t know to what degree other universities differ in structure and organization from the Ped Institute here, but since it is a state university, I assume that it complies, at least to some degree, with a state-mandated structure. When you enter the institute as a 17-year-old student in the first course, as I said, you are already a member of a department, or факултет. Within that факултет, you take all of the same courses as everyone else in your year (sometimes, I think, the year is divided into groups, and you stay with your group). Students are required to take classes outside of their department (for example, every student takes physical education and a certain number of years of either English or German, as well as, say, statistics and psychology). However, those courses are also taken with the students in your year (курс)/group. No student is able to pick his or her schedule—the department decides everything.

There are other differences that, though perhaps more superficial, are also striking. For example, it’s not uncommon for a student (and remember, these students are between 17 and 22) to be married or even to have children. In fact, if you’re not married with children by, say, 26, it seems a little strange. I was a little taken aback when, during a discussion in the class I subbed for last week, one student said, “Well, my husband…” It just is not unusual here.

I’ve also noticed differences in disciplinary practices here. It seems almost paradoxical to me—when a teacher or faculty member enters a room, every student is expected to rise. However, throughout class, there is almost constant whispering (or plain talking out loud), note-passing, and text messaging. The room is abuzz with chatter, and teachers rarely do anything about it. As long as there are a few students paying attention and answering questions and the classroom isn’t so loud that no one can be heard, it’s allowed to continue. It’s making me a little nervous about the classes I’ll have to teach. I don’t want to allow that sort of behavior in a classroom, but if it’s considered common and even acceptable, how am I going to be able to control it? Clearly, I just have to focus on making my classes so interesting that no one can turn away… ahem.

Those are my initial observations, at least. More to come in the future, I’m sure!