— What did you do in Crimea before 2014?
— I came to Crimea in 1994 as a military wife – my husband was deployed – and worked in Sevastopol for 20 years: I was a primary school teacher and a college and university lecturer. Since 2011, she has headed the Department of Ukrainian Philology at Sevastopol City Humanitarian University. My colleagues and I worked for the educational needs of the city: we trained teachers of the Ukrainian language and literature and taught Ukrainian to educators and civil servants…
— You witnessed the occupation of Crimea. What did it look like? Where were you at the time, did you attend any rallies?
— I would like to start these memories with the events of November-December, from the beginning of Euromaidan in Kyiv (November 21, 2013 – the beginning of Euromaidan – ed.). By the way, there were Euromaidans in Sevastopol, but they were quite small. My husband and I did not attend the first Maidan, on November 24: it was hard to believe that Sevastopol residents would gather for such a protest. We sometimes used to joke bitterly that we didn’t have much Ukraine here, but rather a Ukrainian diaspora. In fact, there were civic organizations with which our department cooperated, but unfortunately, there was no powerful activity that would counteract the organizations and foundations of the Russian School, Russian World.
We left the following week, after the beating of young people on Independence Square (On November 30, 2013, Berkut brutally dispersed Euromaidan protesters – ed.). For me, it was not only a civic call but also a personal responsibility: my daughter was among those who took part in the first student protests. She participated in the march: back then, students approached educational institutions and urged others to come out and join them. She was also on the Maidan on November 30 and was lucky not to be beaten by Berkut officers. December 1 was a terrible realization for many people that the government had power, aggression, and violence.
At that time, not many of us gathered in Sevastopol for Euromaidan. We were unable to get to the central square of the city because the city authorities had foresightedly organized a pro-Russian festival on Nakhimov Square. So we had to gather in a park nearby. Euromaidan activists were surrounded by police, and we were being filmed. Behind the police were representatives of the pro-Russian anti-Maidan, aggressively shouting slogans about the poor Berkut boys. And they had devices that made so much noise that the Euromaidan megaphone could barely cope. The rally was still held. Many people kept in touch by phone with Kyiv and other cities and immediately reported what and where was happening. We sang the national anthem and handed out the lyrics printed on cards to people, some of whom looked it up on their phones because, ironically, few people knew the words at the time. In the following months, our pro-Ukrainian community could not resist what was happening in Sevastopol, but we did what was important to us.
The university went on with its life, and it was forbidden to raise any political topics. The Department of Ukrainian Philology has always been somewhat separated from everyone else because only here Ukrainian language was spoken, but even at the department, the teachers did not dare to discuss which channels they watched. For months, our family spent every night looking for streams (live reports) and Internet television to have at least some knowledge. We were very worried about our daughter.
Over time, the situation began to deteriorate dramatically, and aggressive advertising appeared on Sevastopol TV channels. Many Sevastopol residents began their mornings with publications on the Forpost website. In January and February, we were already well aware that we lived in different realities: they hated bold Ukrainians (Banderites, Maidan activists), while we were worried about the fate of the protesters. By the way, in January and February, I started to turn on live streams in my department, especially when the events on Hrushevskoho Street were taking place, but it was not enough to make students or most of my colleagues want to learn something from other sources besides the official Sevastopol channels.
I will always remember the days when we would hear shots through streams, and colleagues from other departments would prepare to “congratulate the boys” – they lived their post-Soviet lives and cried for Berkut. I lived all those months in continuous tension: work during the day, streams, and the Internet at night. We had one single day when we felt relieved, and I wouldn’t even say it was a sense of victory, it was a joy: there would be no more deaths. It was the day after Yanukovych fled. And the next morning, the city was filled with russian flags, and the so-called “russian world” loudly declared itself. The city was filled with people, not from Crimea, and they were easy to distinguish. Aggressive advertising did its job. And then came the blocking of military units. A pseudo-referendum. Euromaidan in Sevastopol and the occupation are a story for a different conversation (smiles sadly).
— What was the final point for you to decide to move?
— My husband and I saw with our own eyes military equipment on our roads, and armed blocking of Ukrainian military units, my husband was talking on the phone with some military personnel; on March 1, in a conversation with my parents, I said with despair: “Mom, there is no Ukraine here anymore.” And we wanted to believe, even after the “pseudo-referendum,” even when we saw changes in educational institutions, even when the “Moscow guests” began to prepare our teachers for the start of the new school year in accordance with russian programs. We believed that we would be fired. Perhaps the first serious realization that Crimea is not so easy to liberate began after Ilovaisk (August 10, 2014 – September 2, 2014 – the Ilovaisk Cauldron – ed.), followed by Debaltseve (January 21 – February 18, 2015 – the winter battles for Debaltseve – ed.). The situation in the East was difficult, and it became clear that the strength of our state would not be enough for us. For me, the time had come when I could stay working in the field of education because I could only work for the benefit of people in my country. My husband and I wanted to live and work, but how and where? So we had to make responsible decisions. We moved to Kyiv in October of 2015.
— Did you have a specific plan of action after the relocation and how did your family perceive it?
— My husband was born in Djankoi, and his family still lives there. They did not understand why we were leaving everything. So there was no support. However, after we left Crimea, we maintained formal ties. After February 24, there was no communication. This is our family tragedy.
It is worth saying that we did not expect any cohesive support from relatives or friends scattered across the continental part of Ukraine: in 2014, it was difficult to explain to anyone that Crimea was under occupation and that it was impossible to live under occupation. We had to overcome prejudice: you are not being shot at, so there is no good reason to break down, look for work, housing, and start over somewhere.
And our daughter was most concerned that we did not leave immediately. She left Crimea in 2013 and studied in Mohylianka. To be closer to her, we moved to Kyiv, and without the support of my parents, it would have been very difficult for us to start life in a new place. Now we are almost Kyiv residents (smiles).
We didn’t have a specific plan of action when we left: the process of finding where to go was long. I was well aware that my education and experience were not unique in Kyiv and that competition was high. It was difficult to find a job in the middle of the school year: after moving, I worked both at courses for IDPs ( I still have good friends who were my students back then) and as a teacher in a secondary school. At one of the events for educators, I met Liudmyla Parashchenko, and she invited me to KROK University and Kyiv Business Lyceum. For two years I was a deputy director of a private school, teaching 7th grade, and now I have invaluable experience working with modern youth.
— What brought you to Taurida National University in Kyiv?
— I was not a graduate of TNU in Simferopol (smiles) and knew very little about how it worked in Crimea. From the first months in Kyiv, I kept an eye on the activity in the public space, met educators, and did not miss events that were in some way related to Crimea. In the spring of 2016, I think I read about a press conference on Facebook on the page of Yuriy Smeliansky (a Crimean economist, IDP, expert of the Maidan of Foreign Affairs charity foundation – ed.) There, I met Volodymyr Kazarin (Rector of Taurida University – ed.), Valentyna Potapova (of the Almenda Center for Civic Education – ed.), and other Crimean activists and representatives of NGOs. At that time, it was very difficult to believe in the TNU in Kyiv project, but I left my contacts and later sent my resume. But on June 1, 2016, I accepted a completely different offer – it was interesting to work in an innovative educational institution, to become a part of it for a while, and somewhere to drive change, to be involved in the search for what a new type of education should be (we are talking about the Kyiv Business Lyceum – ed.). The desire to work at Tavriysky arose in 2018 after meeting Svitlana Kuzmina (the first director of the Institute of Philology and Journalism – ed.) After meeting her, I wanted to be closer to Crimean history in Kyiv and contribute to the development of the Institute of Philology and Journalism. I have never regretted my time at TNU.
— Do you remember your first day of working as a head of a department? Your office, who was there next to you?
— It is difficult for me to recall that particular day. I came to the Department of Slavic Philology and Journalism as a part-time assistant professor, and then I started working, communicating, and fulfilling the orders of Svitlana Leonidivna (the director). I can’t say that I remember how I took up my position. It all started with work: collecting, making, and redoing the most necessary documents, studying curricula, study plans… It was also important to get to know the students of the department, and there were many groups and specialties.
— Did you have to create educational programs from scratch or did you manage to keep something from your previous work in Crimea? Did you implement any new educational programs?
— When I worked in Sevastopol, the concept of “educational program” was not yet used and the forms of documentation were somewhat different. Taurida University could not inherit any educational programs from its pre-occupation period or take out any documentation. Taurida University only received the right to provide training in certain specialty certificates, i.e. the right to enroll students. But all the necessary documents and materials had to be created from scratch. When I started working there in 2018, something had already been developed, but there was always a lot of paperwork. It is necessary to collect, systematize, develop, update… The department had 8 educational programs. We trained bachelor’s and master’s in Journalism, Secondary Education in Ukrainian Language and Literature, Philology in Ukrainian Language and Literature, and Philology in Slavic Languages and Literature.
— What about new educational programs?
— In 2018, our students majoring in Ukrainian philology and secondary education studied Polish as an optional discipline. Studying another Slavic language is an important tool for a deeper understanding of Ukrainian, and comparing it with another language reveals the peculiarities of the grammar and vocabulary of the native language. Experience in a second Slavic language helps a future teacher master methodological disciplines. Since 2020, our philologists have been studying Polish for 4 years under the new educational program, after which they can take the B2 Polish language exam. We use flexible teaching methods, including grouping students of different courses to learn the language, depending on their language level or experience.
The program “Secondary Education. Ukrainian Language and Literature, Foreign Literature” program has been adapted to modern changes in the curricula of secondary education institutions. We want our graduates to be able to teach both Ukrainian and foreign literature, both separately and in integrated courses, at the highest level.
— How was communication established between teachers and students, and between teachers themselves? What role did you play in this process?
— For me, personalization is not just a global trend. Paying attention to the needs of those we teach and work with is one of my approaches to work. Our young people have a serious request for personalization, and while it is still quite difficult to talk about personalized learning, we can at least change attitudes and approaches to work and study. The students of the department are not just people on lists: to build a joint work, it is important not only to get to know each other on the level of first name and surname (I prefer first names), but also to know certain traits, preferences, everything that helps or may hinder learning. And it is important to build trust between all participants (students, teachers, administration). It is rather a belief that no one will harm you, and that everyone is interested in your quality work.
I was constantly looking for ways to get to know each other and always know who we teach in our department. Sometimes it was quite difficult, so short courses helped. Perhaps there was no group of students whom I did not teach. These were mostly junior courses when students were just getting used to the atmosphere of a new environment. Working together brings us closer together, and then most administrative, organizational, and work issues are easier to solve.
Another resource is joint projects and creative activities. This works with both students and colleagues: doing things together, opening up, gaining trust, and providing support.
We also use social media. It saved us during the most difficult days and even nights of the spring of ’22. But experience shows that social media, including text messages, work only if there is friendly communication, which should be established in another way: the person you are talking to needs to be seen and heard because people read text messages through the prism of their own ideas, prejudices, and fears.
Long online conversations are very exhausting for everyone. But, on the other hand, it has opened up a lot of new opportunities and discovered ourselves. The spring of 2022 showed us that where good things are laid, they do not disappear, they multiply.
— Thank you. Did you ever have a desire to leave everything behind and return to Crimea?
— First of all, we have nowhere to return to. Living under the occupation is impossible for us. Secondly, it was a conscious choice. Unfortunately, I had friends in Sevastopol who either had reasons to stay or did not dare to leave on time. And every year such decisions are becoming more difficult to make. My husband and I have never regretted our choice.
— Did the department hold any events in the intellectual war against the russian aggressor? I know that the Department of Slavic Philology organized the Crimean Philological Forum. Can this be considered the university’s intellectual war against russian aggression?
— Taurida in Kyiv is also our resistance to the enemy. Every time we talk about where we study or work, we usually also remember the reasons for our displacement. It was important that the occupation of Crimea did not become a distant history in time and space. We have always worked on this, and the forms of work have been different: communication, answering questions, and special events.
The Crimean International Forum was held twice – we wanted to revive the tradition of such forums that had been going on for more than a decade in Crimea. The idea of the Forum is to serve as a platform for academic meetings and discussions. For the first time, we held the Crimean International Philological Forum in September 2020, and then we were among the first to accept the challenge of organizing a large meeting of philologists (linguists, literary critics) in an online format. The second edition of the Forum was held after the full-scale invasion had begun: “Crimean International Forum: Philology and Journalism” in October 2022. This time, they responded to the demand of the times: they changed the approach (among the participants were philologists, journalists, scientists, and practitioners) and expanded the scope of the issues: they added issues related to informational resistance to the enemy. The journalistic panel “Wartime and Post-occupation Journalism: Problems and Challenges” was of particular interest to the scholars participating in the conference, students, future philologists, teachers, and journalists.
In the pre-quarantine period (before Covid), the university often held meetings with expert speakers (government and public figures) and direct participants in the events of the beginning of the occupation. Autobiographical poetry was also performed at Taurida, and our students prepared interviews with Crimeans and worked on the Crimea.Realii project during their journalism practice. During the time we worked online, we had more opportunities for thematic meetings: perhaps almost every week, so that our students could join meetings with guest lecturers or workshops from specialists; the department’s teachers were quite active in this area. Can you imagine the symbolic coincidence? On the evening before the full-scale invasion, on February 23, 2022, we held a meeting called “Oral Histories of Crimea,” where eyewitnesses shared their memories, and our students sought their answers to the questions: why the russians are like this, are they really like this, what we should do, what to expect…
— How did the university adapt to new challenges after the full-scale invasion?
— The director of the institute, myself, and some other colleagues had the experience in 2014: back then, everyone went through all the stages of realizing the situation, looking for answers, and making vital decisions by themselves. The morning of February 24, 2022, began with a whistle and a fiery light in my room, and we met the next explosions (fortunately, at a distance of almost a kilometer from the house) on our feet. That working day started quite early: we called each other and wrote each other off, I felt that my life in 2014 helped me to react in a more balanced way, so I was looking for ways to be useful to others. In the first morning conversation with Svitlana Kuzmina (the director), we came to the conclusion that everyone needs special psychological support. At 11:00 a.m., our colleagues from the Department of Psychology held a meeting, and invited a specialist in military psychology; we recorded the meeting and provided it to those who could not join. From the very first days (of the full-scale invasion – ed.), we realized that psycho-emotional support and a sense of unity at a distance should be the basis of our current life. I can’t talk about special adaptation to new challenges at the level of the university administration: at first, like everyone else, we paused the educational process, then decided to resume it. I had to adapt to the field in my direct work and certain situations.
It seems to me that special forms of support and interaction worked at the institute: we shared our experiences and emotions. Hearing each other’s stories made it easier to overcome our own fears, and taking care of others who were experiencing similar feelings helped us to help ourselves. Waiting for the danger was a significant challenge for some, and information and support also helped. We sought and gathered strength in different ways: through words, actions, and help. We used social media and offered various forms of communication to teachers and students.
Classes resumed in March. At that time, only a few teachers in the department could fully communicate online with students. Flexibility saved us: some took on more workload while others gradually adapted to life in difficult conditions. I recall the first meeting with the teachers and some of the reactions to the announcement of the resumption of classes in March, and I remember conversations with students: “How can we study when our classmate is under occupation and we don’t know if she is alive?” We started softly, organizing journalism and philology internships instead of classes where we could so that both students and teachers had time to process the situation. The practical tasks were performed asynchronously (whoever could at what time of the day). It was an effective way to take students away from reading the news every minute. We also managed to conduct a full-scale pedagogical practice in April: our students worked online in schools all over Ukraine, and at the final conference, everyone felt really happy – we did it!
It is extremely difficult to return to the events of spring 2022, it was emotionally and physically exhausting to work, but when I saw that everything was moving on when I observed that many people’s lives were getting better, I was happy – it was not a waste of time and effort. I can say that I breathed a sigh of relief only when the semester was over and our bachelors received their diplomas. Sometimes it felt like that time was just one endless working day.
— Which educational establishment, in your opinion, should return to the de-occupied Crimea or to liberated Donetsk or Luhansk?
— I’ve been thinking about it constantly since Kherson was liberated. I even tried to put it down on paper. However, my thoughts mostly concern Sevastopol. This russian-speaking city has always been the center of the “russian world” and it needs radical changes: if there were a NATO base and conditions for international student training programs, if it were to become a modern student town, it would significantly affect the demographic picture of the region. I am convinced that there is no way to return Taurida University to Simferopol in the format that is currently being operated in Kyiv. A new page of Taurida will be written in Crimea. Over time, an educational institution will be needed there that will meet the demands and needs both at the time of de-occupation and the strategy of restoring state institutions, infrastructure, social sphere, etc. What will these needs be?
There is the question of whether it is reasonable to teach students in Crimea immediately after de-occupation. Back in the 1990s, graduates of Sevastopol schools had certain privileges for studying at Ukrainian universities, mainly in the western regions. It was quite reasonable at the time: russian-speaking young people were immersed in a different environment and learned not so much Ukrainian as a different type of life, learned about culture, and thus formed a sense of citizenship. I’m not sure that there is an educational institution today that can be picked up and moved to Simferopol or Sevastopol. I am thinking about it… I am convinced that special educational programs are urgently needed for civil servants who will come to work in Crimea, for social security workers, doctors, and, of course, educators. And in general, for the entire infrastructure of the de-occupied territories. And such specialists need to be trained now in educational institutions in mainland Ukraine.
I believe that long-term and focused work will eventually succeed. I know that over the past 20 years, Sevastopol and the people of Sevastopol have changed. Yes, the power of propaganda is quite impressive. So now, with the support of the international community, we have to go through the process of establishing Ukraine in these territories with more responsibility.
Translator: Zoriana Karpenko
