Tell me about the history of this foundational Russian school in Alexander Nevsky cathedral.
Antonina Mikhailovna Ossorguina founded this school. She came here, running from the Bolsheviks through Siberia with a very large family. She arrived here in the 1930s; I think 1933. She had siblings with kids, and she first began just by working with those kids. Then more came, a big group formed, and that is how the school was formed. They found some rooms by the cathedral. On Thursdays nobody had class. So there was formed the Thursday Russian school of Antonina Mikhailovna Ossorguina. This school achieved great success; at one time they had up to 200 students. Professors even from the Sorbonne came to visit her classes. She gave herself completely to this cause.
When did you become involved with the school?
I joined as a teacher in 1964 and have belonged to this school ever since. Ossorguina had to switch rooms and classrooms many times. Eventually she decided to go to the monastery and dedicated the school to the Nevsky Cathedral. At first, for two years, Madame Sollogoub replaced her, and then I came in. In fact Antonina Mikhailovna had always wanted me to replace her, but I had a family and was working a lot. Then I became the director in 1988 and was there for 12 years.
Tell me about your family and upbringing in Paris.
I was born in France. Ten years before I was born my parents fled Russia. The Bolsheviks had killed my grandfather, and they were supposed to have killed my father. We left our homeland and worried a lot about this. When I was born in 1930, it was only eight to 10 years after this horrible time, so everything was impossibly difficult. We were living in this you see. I even had Russian refugee documents until 21 years of age. I was Russian, we were Russian, we missed Russia—we really were Russian. My other grandfather ended up in Russia in prisons, but somehow he was able to escape. When he moved in with us, he was constantly sad and spoke only of Russia. One day someone said to him, “How do you miss that place—you were in prisons for 10 years?” And he said, “But they were our prisons. I was still on my own land.” Do you realize the connection that we felt to this place? I grew up in the nostalgia of the motherland. This was my spiritual journey.
When my father moved here he washed windows; he arrived to Paris literally in his military uniform and washed windows. It was his uniform that abandoned him; he never abandoned the uniform. My father was also a private driver for a taxi company. I always had something to eat—I knew some friends who did not. I am pretty sure my parents did not eat sometimes when my siblings and I did. It was very, very difficult in the beginning. And any specific help was not given. Right now, people arrive here and ask for various help services. I even worked for the Tolstoy Foundation, but these immigrants now do not understand how difficult it was for us. We did not have any support.
Where did you study?
I went to school in the Russian gymnasium, which was founded in 1925. It existed until the 1950s. It was always sort of 200 people, Russian students. There was a Russian program and a French program. You know at that point we all still had only Russian documents saying that we were political exiles and refugees. When we graduated, we gained the right to apply to higher education, but this was for those only who had refugee status. This was not everyone. Then when they changed the law, it became—born in France, you become French. So then in the 1950s the Russian gymnasium was closed because now Russians could go to French schools legally. After the gymnasium I studied at the Sorbonne.
You are a member of Vitizei?
Yes, my husband and I are both organizers and long-time members of this program. It was founded by Nikolai Fedorovich Fedorov, who participated in volunteer work and lived only for Russia. At first he was in [the Russian Students Christian Organization {Action Chrétienne des Etudiants Russess, ACER}], but then in 1934 he founded Vitizei, which was in its personality a lot more nationalistic. There was a more national flavor to it. We would gather in the winter, have big Christmas trees, put on plays. In the summer we would go to the camps. At generally this is still continued today. The idea of Fedorov was to return to Russia—even in our hymn we have the lyrics “and further on we will return to Russia.”
Is this how Vitizei gained locations in Russia?
Yes, after the perestroika they went in, came to churches to morally and materially try to help children and religious people who were left with nothing. This mentality of volunteer work is very characteristic of our group. Literature, history, language—we of course also had all of these classes.
Do you notice signs of language loss among your generation’s children and grandchildren?
I am the daughter of those who fled Russia. My children and grandchildren will speak Russian. We are Russian. We try to speak—we will speak! The church will help us; the youth movement Vitizei will help us. It is a lot of work and effort. Now, what you have probably been seeing with the children at the school is serious language loss. This is different—what you are seeing is people who have very recently moved here. What I am talking about is different; our experience was very unique. We saved everything, especially in the Vitizei group.
Did you go to the Vitizei camp?
Did I? For 25 years I was the leader of the entire girls section! Yes, ACER is much more French-speaking than us. They were very intent on opening themselves to the West. But we, Vitizei, our founder had a different vision from the White movement; he himself was fighting against the Bolsheviks. He fought against those who factually killed Russia—killed Russia morally and physically. He was dealing with this and was devoted to the cause of not forgetting the Russia that was absolutely killed by the Bolsheviks.
What do you think about Russia today?
God be with it. It has certainly changed; luckily [it] surfaced from the Bolsheviks. But the communist shadow certainly left a horrible mark. But, still, a Russian person remains a Russian person. I was there, I visited, and even though everything was different, I felt at home.
How did you transmit the Russian culture to your students?
We had a specific goal and program. We needed to take this one day of the week and transmit to them both the church life, literature, and history. So we divided the kids up by level and class, we gathered the teachers, and we taught them.
Did you ever encounter any difficulties?
Even my kids complained! They would say, “Mom, right now our friends are playing football, and you are making us go to Russian school right now.” So yes, I did have to make them go to school, but I think now they are more grateful than ever.
What were your favorite school traditions?
We always put on many plays—classical Russian plays. We would gather money to rent a small theater in Paris and present a play right before Christmas.
Did you ever come to the realization that you could not return to Russia?
I was born with that feeling. My parents, of course, hope to return, but life today is here. Until the Bolsheviks were gone, we could not go back. Already two people in our family were killed, just because of their background. My father was an officer; he did not run from them, he left. He left because the Bolsheviks were conducting illegal actions. When he left the cadets’ corps, he promised to be loyal to the king, to the faith, and to the motherland. But they illegally took him down for this—because the Bolsheviks destroyed this.
Is there a chance to return?
The chance exists. We believe it will exist. We live by that hope—with that hope that by the grace of God we can return to our homeland. Our ancestors faced incredible pain and anguish. Even me and my siblings, we simply did not know that pain. But we lived with the constant question of "When will we return?" My parents literally lived with the suitcases always ready to go. My parents left Russia in their uniforms—in their soldiers’ uniforms!
Do you ever have reunions from your school days?
Yes, of course, we meet, drink tea, remember, and discuss. Yes, my grade is very closely connected.
When you were going to school, were there fellowships like there are today?
It was so much worse! People who come here now do not have reason to. Nobody in Russia is killing them or locking them in prisons. Those who come here from Ukraine, yes, they come from hunger. It’s difficult over there, but there is no risk of life, like there was when our children came. There is an organization now—Zemgor—that collects money in different categories. One is for children to go to camps; another is for children to participate in plays or attend the annual dance. There were also one or two Red Cross assistantships as well. Yes, I mean, we would not have been able to survive without the help of others. We could not have built our churches or establish[ed] ourselves! And in fact, once people started making money with their jobs, where do you think they would put the money? Towards building the churches and growing our community. All of our teachers when I was a director were volunteers; the children pay for the electricity of the building, etc.—these things do not pay for themselves.