Why I Moved to Russia. Story 2 of 7

(continued from part 1)

By Oleg Vereshyagin

Max, 13 years old:  A burglary of the neighbors’ cellar.

(not the first burglary on his list, but the first one in Russia)

Painting "Expecting a Baby"

The police officer who came to see us was very polite. It is a generally common feature with Russians: they treat foreigners from Europe in a shy-polite-alert sort of way, and it takes a long time for them to acknowledge someone as “one of their own.” What he had to say frightened us. It turns out, Max committed a CRIMINAL OFFENCE – BURGLARY! And we were lucky he hadn’t turned fourteen yet, otherwise there would be a case with real prison time of up to five years! It meant he was spared the full consequences by the three days that remained until his fourteenth birthday! We couldn’t believe our ears. It turns out, one can indeed be imprisoned at the age of fourteen in Russia! We were sorry we came here.

Our shy questioning – how could it be, really, that a child can be held responsible at such early age – were met with surprise; we didn’t understand each other. We were used to over-prioritized treatment of children in Germany; at worst, Max would have been talked to. The officer did say that our son would most likely not be made to serve real prison time even if he did turn fourteen: such punishment was a rare occurrence and hardly used for a first offence, lest it be an attempted sabotage of personal safety.

We were also lucky our neighbors didn’t press charges and we wouldn’t even be fined. (In Russia, the offended side must initiate the case by filing a report; more serious crimes are not investigated until this is done.) Such a strict law on one hand and on the other a strange lack of action from our neighbors who were not willing to exploit it also surprised us.

Right as he was leaving, the officer hesitantly asked if Max was generally inclined to a-social behavior. We had to admit that he was; more than that, he didn’t like it here in Russia, but it was most likely due to him maturing and he would get better with time. The officer remarked that we should have just given Max some hearty spanking at his very first act and put an end to it right then and there, not let it drag out and watch him grow into a thief. And he left.

We were astonished to hear this from a police officer. At the time, we had no idea how actually close to fulfilling his remark we were…

Right after the officer left, my husband talked to Max and demanded he apologized to the neighbors and worked for them to compensate for the damages. A grand scandal ensued: Max was outright refusing to do it. I won’t describe in details what followed. After yet another of Max’s rude outlashes, my husband did just what the officer suggested.

I realize now that it looked and was more comical than it was severe; at the time though it petrified me and completely shocked Max. My husband was deeply shaken by what he’d done. Max ran away to his room right after he was let go of. It must have been a revelation to him: he suddenly realized how much stronger physically his dad was; he realized he had no one to tell on “his parents’ violence,” that he HAD to compensate for the damages himself, and that he really was just one step away from a trial and jail time. He cried in his room. He really cried, not for show.

My husband and I were sitting in the living room still as two statues, feeling like we were not only true criminals, but worse than that – we broke a taboo. We were expecting to hear a demanding knock on the door. Our heads were filled with terrible thoughts about how our son will now have no trust in us, that he will commit suicide, that we had severely traumatized him psychologically, – these and many other beliefs we were taught long before our son was even born.

Max didn’t come out for dinner and still with tears in his voice shouted from his room he would eat there. To my surprise, my husband replied that Max would get no dinner in that case, and if he was not at the table in one minute he would be declined breakfast tomorrow morning.

Max came out in thirty seconds. I had never seen him look like that. I had never seen my husband act the way he did also, for that matter: he sent Max to wash up, and once our son returned, made him apologize and ask permission to come to the table. I was simply stunned: Max was actually doing everything he was told to do; gloomy and keeping his eyes down. Before anyone could touch the food, my husband said,

“Listen, son. Russians raise their children this way. This is how I will be dealing with you as well. Enough is enough. I don’t want you to end up in jail. I don’t think you want to end up in jail either. You heard the officer. I also don’t want you to grow up to be some soulless, lazy couch potato, and this is where I really don’t care how you feel about it. You are going to apologize to the neighbors tomorrow and will do whatever work they have for you until all of the damage is compensated. Is that clear?”

Max was silent for a few seconds. He looked up and said quietly but distinctly, “Yes, father.”

You may not believe it, but never again did we need to do it, as if our son became a new person. I was frightened by this change at first. It seemed as though Max kept his deep hurt away from us.

Only after a month or so did I realize he actually was fine and not just acting that way.

There was something else I had realized, something far more important. In our home, on our account was living a young – and not so little – tyrant and lazy bum, who never trusted us and didn’t consider us to be his friends in the least. Deep inside he despised us and skillfully manipulated, quite contrary to the “methodologies” we were taught to believe and had been raising him by. It all was our own fault. We were guilty of building our family relationships on the opinions of the “authoritative professionals.”

On the other hand, did we really have a choice while living in Germany? I can honestly say no, we didn’t. Guarding Max’s childish ego and containing our fears, there was this senseless law. Here we do have a choice. We took our chance, and it was the right thing to do. We are happy. What’s even more important than that – Max is truly happy now. All of a sudden, he acquired parents. My husband and I now have a son. And together we are a family.

Russian source:   http://samlib.ru/w/wereshagin_o_n/ovr.shtml   Link active as of January 30, 2017.  RV

(continue reading part 3 & 4)