A Discussion with Vladimir Yagello, President, Vitizei Youth Organization, and Teacher, Alexander Nevsky Orthodox Russian School, Paris, France

June 27, 2012

Background: As part of the Education and Social Justice Project, in June 2012 undergraduate student Masha Goncharova interviewed Vladimir Yagello, president of Vitizei (a youth organization) and a teacher at the Alexander Nevsky Orthodox Russian School in Paris, France. In this interview Yagello discusses how the different White Russian émigré waves feel connected to Russian in diverse ways, the role of Vitizei and its camps in maintain Russian cultural identity, and the integration of religious education into the programs offered by Vitizei and the Alexander Nevsky Orthodox Russian School.

Tell me about your history with this school.

In 1961 I took the baccalaeurate [exam] and also finished this Russian school of Anatonya Mikhalna Ossorgino, and she asked me to stay in the school and help out. It's been 69 years. Fifty-one years have passed, and here I still am.

How have the kids changed?

On the one hand, we have fewer and fewer children from the old Russian émigré waves, and now they are new—they are kids who were born in Russia.

Those who were from the White Russian émigré waves—did they feel connected to Russia more or less than kids today?

Well, of course. If I remember the friends who were in my group, my class, of Anatonya Mikhailovna Ossorgina, we all—first of all—spoke Russian perfectly, to this day of course. Everyone would take the Russian language exam during the baccalaureate as the first language. Now nobody takes that exam. Or if they do, they'll take it as their third language. So the history of the Russian émigré movement is really the history of an assimilation process, as sad as it is to say. In order to teach the language to the children who were born in France, one needs a lot of effort, attention, and knowledge. My three daughters all speak Russian very well, and two of them have doctorates from Parisian universities. Of course my wife is a Russian language professional, and I myself, though a priest, am also a professional. I taught 40 years in French schools. Every day we check up on the language, we know the Church Slavonic [the liturgical language of Russian Orthodoxy], and through it keep up our knowledge of Russian.

The White émigré children of today—now the fourth and fifth immigration—speak Russian with difficulty. Are they Russian?

They feel less and less “Russian.” They see themselves as French people of Russian heritage; in that there is the shading.

When did these changes begin?

This process began before the war, in the 1930s, I would say. Not everyone lived in Paris. Not everyone participated in the social life or felt so sharply that we are all together. The war families were the ones who really truly felt this. They held together so strongly because they had a hope of returning to Russia. We were one of these families who especially felt this. For others, it is difficult to say. I think they were less motivated to retain close ties, and now we are also. Twenty years ago Vitizei became involved in Russia as outsiders who are also insiders.

Tell me about Vitizei and the camps in France and Russia.

Vitizei as established by Nicolai Federovich in the 1920s in Estonia. He worked in the organization of Christian youth there, and then the YMCA offered him to move to France and to work with children from ACER [Russian Students Christian Organization, Action Chrétienne des Etudiants Russess] in Paris. Nicolai Fedorovich worked there until the 1930s, but then he decided to start his own organization, Vitizei. Many camp leaders went with him, and some stayed in ACER. And to this day, Vitizei exists independently. Of course during the war all of this was uprooted because this was all prohibited.

Have you always spoken in Russian in the camps?

Of course. Even before I was born, then the foundation of life was absolutely Russian. Then this all renewed itself during the war, and we established organizations in Argentina, Australia, Belgium, Morocco, but unfortunately then these all began to close. For instance in Argentina we don't have a camp anymore, neither in Morocco since the French left in 1952. All the Europeans left Morocco and went mostly to France. Now we do have a group in Belgium, but very small, and in Australia and now of course in Russia. In Russia we have many Vitizei locations—mainly in St. Petersburg and Irkutsk, and Lower Novgorod. I have been to all of these places. It is all very interesting and developing in relations.

Do French youth travel to these Vitizei camps in Russia?

Very few.

Why?

I think fear. Parents fear to send their kids there. Russia is a very challenging country. Nobody is sure what will happen there in the camps. Westerners are used to more comfort, and Russia is just developing. And, of course, they are embarrassed of their Russianness. They are worried there will be nobody who speaks French. And you know, the youth, they are more comfortable among their friends than to go somewhere alone. But a lot of Russians do come here.

Do Russian Vitizei members come here?

We do have kids who come here on internships to see how our enterprise works over here. There is something of our work to see here. Our camp near Grenoble is a model camp—how the camps should work. This year, we have kids coming from St. Petersburg and from Irkutsk as well, I think.

Are they coming here on their own dime, or do you offer scholarships?

They are paying for themselves, but we do offer fellowships. In truth, Vitizei is actually the object of donations, but what we receive, we do give away partially in the form of scholarships to students.

What role do you think education has in the life of a student who grew up in Paris but has Russian roots?

It is fascinating. To speak in Russian is one thing, to write it is an entirely other thing, to know the history of your heritage, the culture and art—it opens a horizon. Of course it is much better than sitting and to know only some kind of computer games. It opens them a horizon of the highest level.

And what about the role of religious education?

It also provides a foundation. I grew up in this school, and the fact that I am a priest is entirely due to the education this school gave me. I learned everything here! What I got from French school doesn't count for nearly as much value. And mind you, we only had classes on Wednesdays. But the classes in Russian school gave me considerably more than what I ever got from French school. Well, of course I learned math and other subjects at the French schools, but everything else I learned in the Russian school and at home.

How did you get involved with Vitizei?

I became connected to Vitizei at age 10 years old. Actually I knew about them before because I had friends in the group. So a few friends and I volunteered to become Vitizei members, and I have stayed a member ever since. I am now an educator there, and for 25 years I was the leader of the entire summer camp program. Now the camp leader is my daughter, Natasha.

And what do you think about this family connection to the camp? What role did it play in your life?

Well, it formed me in all of my relationships. And now, I am trying to transmit the lessons and learning I received from the camp to the next generation. This is our life; it is what we work towards. I am the superior of the parish. I'm also the head of Golos Provoslavya (The Voice of Orthodoxy), a radio station. This is my everyday work.

Let's talk about your experience as teacher here at Alexander Nevsky school.

I teach Russian language and literature in the advanced classes, and the Law of God. I teach young students and older ones. In the Law of God, with the smaller ones of course we begin on the lighter side and then gradually we develop. I first show them pictures and they draw, all of the most important holidays, Jesus Christ, Mary, etc. And then it grows more deepened. We learn the history of the church, and this is all a process. We have a program that was established long ago.

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