From working at Apple or a bank to teaching in a village

Not only teaching but also creating podcasts or board games with children. Leaving a well-established life, suddenly changing professions, and moving to work as a rural teacher for a year or two may sound romantic, but it’s definitely not easy. At minimum, it requires passing several selection stages, and at maximum — turning your own life and your family’s life upside down. But there are quite a few willing people: they call their community a “cohort” and mostly stay working in rural schools for more than just one year.

The ambitious goal of the Teach for Ukraine Fellowship is to overcome educational inequality. The team says that there is about a 2.5-year gap in mastering the school curriculum between students in villages and big cities. According to the team’s estimates, 1.2 million children live in rural areas, and less than 10% of Ukrainian teachers are under 30 years old. Under the program’s conditions, participants not only teach for one or two years in rural schools but also implement extracurricular projects with students or the community.

Victoria Kudryashova, editor at The Village Ukraine, spoke with teachers who dared to join the program and are finishing the school year about how to set boundaries as a young teacher, why being a teacher is not just about lessons, and what needs to be done to make teaching a more popular profession.

Sofiya Myshelova describes her education as “pure mathematics,” having graduated from KPI and Taras Shevchenko University, then worked in retail risk at a bank (deciding whether to grant a person a loan, under what terms and interest).

– At what life stage did you apply?

– Honestly, my motivation was quite selfish — I wanted to live in a society where everyone feels their impact on the state and is not indifferent. We all influence each other’s lives when we make choices, for example, participating or not in political life.

– What about living conditions?

Velyka Dymerka has 10,000 residents, and the Velyka Dymerka Lyceum has about 1,500 people. The village is very similar to my native one in southern Odesa region. Although the population is about half, the way people speak, behave, and their life values are alike.

The village was occupied by Russians. Much was stolen from the school, but it’s been restored. For people, it’s an unprocessed trauma — they mostly avoid talking about the occupation time. The experience is especially traumatic for those who didn’t leave during occupation. Sometimes people can be led into conversations about it.

The school administration offered us dormitories; we also searched for housing ourselves. We eventually rented a private house together. Heating is difficult, as it’s a solid-fuel boiler. Once we were delivered unchopped wood and had to chop it ourselves. Such heating means the fire needs constant tending, but we can’t do it at night. So usually, we gather for school in the cold mornings.
Not everyone has such conditions; some have gas boilers. There are also water issues. We have a boiler, but the water is not suitable even for brushing teeth or washing white clothes.

I live with a cat I took from Kyiv. Also, the house owners’ dog lives with us. Every weekend I travel by electric train to Kyiv. It’s realistically possible to commute daily, but it’s hard. I also believe that being physically in the community, exploring it, communicating with students outside of school, makes you more involved, understand their needs, and get closer emotionally.

– How was the adaptation?

How to balance curriculum requirements and make the subject interesting

Math is a tough subject. In primary school, you can use colorful and practical tasks, but in eighth grade, there is a lack of time, and sometimes you have to go into abstraction. People often can’t connect math lessons with real life. For example, geometry problems on finding area or perimeter might be useful when doing repairs and calculating how much linoleum, wallpaper, or skirting boards are needed for rooms of different shapes.

Generally, I simplify the requirements and curriculum — we don’t cover all high-level tasks. For construction tasks, we cut and rearrange squares and trapezoids into other shapes. Solving problems would be faster, but with such tasks, students can discover why the formula is what it is.

When we studied sines and cosines, I immediately said: “There’s a very high chance you won’t use this in real life, and it won’t be useful.” Because it’s true. Why do we learn it? To train the brain so that later it can solve real-life problems on those neural connections.
I still don’t know how to engage everyone. Sometimes a child doesn’t even want to look or read. But I try my best, give doable tasks, sometimes a bit challenging.

If many children are sick or if there is anxiety before 8 am, we study online. If anxiety occurs during lessons, we go to the shelter, but lessons don’t continue — many children. The shelter meets standards but is very cramped and unsuitable for lessons. So we just sit. I brought a PlayStation, board games, and ask kids to download math games on their phones. Sometimes we sit like this for hours. This is how Russia is taking education away from us.

How to set boundaries with students when you’re a young teacher?

It’s a tough question. I don’t feel like the students don’t see me as a teacher. Maybe it’s because they’re 13–14 years old. With older students, I also have a friendly communication — they even call me informally (but I don’t teach them, only at extracurricular activities).
I believe students should be respected as people, not treated like animals that need training. They are individuals, and I am here to meet their educational needs (even if they don’t realize it yet). One of my rules is mutual respect — not just students respecting the teacher, but everyone respecting everyone.

It’s also important to be as honest as possible, to say when something’s not okay, when the students’ behavior bothers me. And to phrase it in terms of my needs — not “You behave badly,” but “This doesn’t work for me, here’s why.” If you approach teaching from a human side and show that communication doesn’t have to be shouting, the students start communicating differently — even among themselves.

Why extracurricular activities matter

Already in the first semester, we started gathering kids for a movie club — watching films in the shelter. Sometimes we play board games or go on small group excursions.
Usually, I initiate these activities. For example, a movie doesn’t require much involvement, just choosing it and sending an announcement in the chat. Excursions are more responsible, so I only take those I trust won’t cause trouble, so I don’t have to deal with that later.

Recently, we went to a movie screening in Kyiv. The students wanted to organize a screening at our school. I told them to ask the organizers themselves if they could lend us the film — so they take responsibility, not me. This active involvement is not passive consumption and helps develop soft organizational skills — they realize they can express their needs and be heard.

Extracurricular activities create an informal space where you can build relationships. In class, there might not be enough room for that, and during breaks, even less. But during extracurriculars, kids get to know the teacher as a person, not just a textbook or guide. You spend more time together — hours or even days.

This greatly affects relationships and education. I have several students with weak academic knowledge, but because of the relationship we built, they want to be near me, attend extra lessons, and improve. Plus, they do the tasks I assign. If they feel comfortable with me as a person, they try not to disappoint me and complete assignments.

What motivates me the most

What drives me most is seeing not only academic growth but personal development. Students change rapidly. It’s a pleasure to watch how their thoughts — which I sometimes consider red flags — turn into mature ideas of adults who will enter society and respect others’ boundaries. Seeing good values form in practice.

For example, for me, red flags include sexism and toxic masculinity. On March 8, some boys asked if I’m a feminist. I said yes, and they took it as an insult and started teasing girls with “Are you a feminist?”

I prepared a special lesson about women in education and science, about Yulia Zdanovska — a Teach For Ukraine participant killed by Russia. Then the usual scripts started: “You talk about women and oppress men.” They absorbed this gender upbringing, but people are different: if you’re a girl, you don’t have to do anything just because of that. Same for boys. We have a poster in the shelter: “It’s okay to cry — boys too.”

Another example: once boys were disruptive in class and then agreed to play “silence” to not bother the teacher. They said, “Whoever talks first is gay.” We discussed why this is bad. They said being gay is bad because gays get bullied. Now they don’t call each other that. By the way, I wear LGBT pins on my clothes to show my support.

Another strong red flag for me is the Russian language. Usually in the village, this isn’t a problem — everyone speaks Ukrainian with some surzhyk. But Russian remains in TikTok or “Slovo Patsana” videos. When I hear Russian content during breaks, I ask to turn it off. The students have learned to argue, saying Russians don’t get monetization or it’s a Ukrainian video in Russian. So I approach them not from the money we pay Russia but say they’re polluting their brains: instead of watching quality Ukrainian or English content, they watch dumb Russian stuff.

Why we decided to start a project for teachers

I had the idea to create a community project — an anti-café with board games and movie screenings for everyone. But it turned out hard to implement. You need to research if people really want it, and for that, you have to talk with them about their needs. How can you talk if no one ever asked?

The school has just over a hundred staff who gladly accept ideas. Some say, “Teach us something.” Some learn a lot on their own. Some ask, “Please talk to the administration about this or that problem. We can’t because we’re used to it, and they won’t listen.” My colleague and I are temporary here, looking from the outside. We’re not afraid to rock the boat by giving feedback to the administration (which is open to our ideas).

Most of the staff you can talk to informally. Still, we noticed teachers mostly communicate with students, rarely with each other. So we decided to run teacher training. Weekly, we share tools to ease work — Kahoot, automated quiz platforms, gamification tools used in business or language learning. When all teachers use similar tools, it’s easier for students.

Usually, it takes time to learn these tools, so it’s simpler to use what’s already established. Teachers need support to run new activities. We want others to run trainings, but for now, only we do it.

What I realized this year

This year has been rapid growth — probably like the first year of university, when everything changes, and you absorb a ton of information.
The program constantly encourages reflection. We have regular mentor meetings. The key value is thinking about what you do, how, and how to do better. First and foremost — personal growth. You can join to improve yourself, develop communication and social skills, push through your introversion.

That’s why I’m staying for a second year. It won’t be such rapid growth but more comfortable, and that’s great.
I don’t think my lifestyle changed drastically because of work. Working in a Kyiv school would be the same life change. Teaching is a wonderful job with both fast and slow results over ten years.

The only downside is salary. If this job paid well, there wouldn’t be staff shortages or the need to hire unmotivated people. It’s a huge workload, constant interaction with developing personalities — watching how unfiltered and free from social constraints they are.
I decided to stay for the second year because I want to grow in better conditions, and because my eighth graders will graduate next year — I don’t want to hand them over to other teachers. But I understand you shouldn’t sacrifice yourself; you must always find your motivation because without it you won’t get far.

Before joining the second year, I’ll have an interview where the school and Teach For Ukraine will assess my work results.
If someone doubts whether to apply, just try. You can quit at any point if you don’t like it, ask as many questions as you want. Even those who left the program got valuable experience and growth. Teach For Ukraine is a strong community where you learn and feel supported. These are people with different experiences but shared values. Together, you birth global ideas that can go far beyond school. In 20 years, maybe you’ll see a student who did something grand and think, “My influence was there too.”

Hanna Zdor and Alla Shakhova met at the summer institute organized by the NGO Teach For Ukraine in Irpin. Now, together, they’re wrapping up the school year teaching at Petrivskyi Lyceum in the village of Stari Petrivtsi. On Zoom, they connect after their last lesson from the school museum, with kids running around in the background.

Hanna Zdor, 27, biology teacher and veterinarian, worked in private veterinary clinics in Kyiv before joining Teach For Ukraine. She’s specialized in veterinary care for exotic animals.
Alla Shakhova, 28, English teacher, originally trained as a marine transport engineer but spent two years working in sales at Apple Ukraine.

“I was a shop leader at the Apple point in Shuliavka’s Cosmopolite mall, handling everything from negotiating with distributors to customer communication and boosting sales,” Alla shares. “A few months before the full-scale war, we had a call with the security team from the US. They began evacuating the team abroad. Because of family reasons, I didn’t want to leave the country. Only two of us remained from a team of about thirty. Eventually, Apple decided it didn’t want to stay in Ukraine. That’s when I realized: if I don’t return to the Teach For Ukraine Fellowship now, I probably never will.”

— At what life stage did you apply?

Hanna:
I wasn’t really satisfied with my old job; I kept wondering what else I might want to do. I wanted to volunteer somehow, do something locally. Then an Instagram ad caught my attention. I decided to apply because the main goal of the program is to ensure equality in schools — rural schools lag behind the city ones a bit. It’s also a kind of volunteering — raising education standards. I’m from a village in the Rivne region. Before this, I only did a few guided tours for kids. I thought, why not try applying for the first stage, and that’s how I made it to the summer institute.

Alla:
Stages, yes — so true! Step by step, I was sure I wouldn’t make it, but somehow here we are, almost a year later. [smiles] I’ve known about the program for a long time; a friend told me about it like five years ago. I always wanted to join but had a pretty decent job and was comfortable. Also, I thought I wasn’t mature enough to teach or show things to kids. Before, I worked with teenagers in NGOs and camps, but those kids usually come with a purpose and fill out applications. So I was curious if I could do anything with kids who aren’t super interested.

How did you prepare for working in the summer camp?

Hanna:
We understood that half of the kids didn’t really know what school was anymore because of COVID and the war, so it was hard for them to focus for 45 minutes straight. After sessions with mentors, we had to conduct our own lessons in cooperation with the Irpin lyceum, and then we attended lessons of our colleagues. I was worried — who would I be when I first walked into the classroom? A stand-up comedian or a teacher? But the summer school helped us get to know each other and overcome those fears.

Alla:
Usually, I’m quite skeptical about all the theoretical stuff and fancy words, but the practice was really interesting. Still, it was about kids and their parents who filled out forms, so they were at least a bit motivated. During the summer institute, we also met our cohort [that’s what the Teach For Ukraine community calls their group] and learned who was going where. That made it a bit easier, because until the last moment we didn’t know — some might drop out at the final stage.

Hanna:
After we found out which school we’d be going to, we had a bit of a matching session with the administration. We asked about things that worried us — like their attitude toward tattoos and whether we’d have a place to live.

Alla:
We imagined the administration as serious adults who would say, “No funny business or podcasts.” But after talking to them, we saw there wouldn’t be any problems, and they supported any idea.

“Expectations and Reality”

Alla:
Teach For Ukraine appeals to the idea that it’s great to be a young teacher, that all the kids are waiting for us and lining up. But we didn’t see that kind of reverence; being a young teacher isn’t enough for the kids.
I have never lived in a small village, always in big cities, so I had many stereotypes. I was worried there would be no projectors and I’d have to explain everything on my fingers. But here, almost every classroom has an interactive whiteboard and a projector.

Hanna:
We expected to come to a very rural area because some of our cohort mates don’t even have projectors or enough textbooks. But we saw a big contrast: some kids have iPhones, some don’t even have phones. And they need to be united.
Also, at the start of the school year, the lyceum merged two schools from New and Old Petrivtsi (Old Petrivtsi has a big school and a decent shelter, New Petrivtsi a smaller nine-year school with no shelter). So kids attend in two shifts.
We worried about the new team: new people and then us with our ideas. I think we made the team a bit tense, but it worked out. These are wonderful people; no stereotypical teachers saying: “Did you forget your head at home?”

— Do you still have enthusiasm

Alla:
I can’t say we came here with the goal to change all of Ukraine’s education. Don’t come like that — it’s a disaster. Many of our colleagues come supercharged and die out in a month. But you can influence some kids, and your lessons can be remembered. We were saved by being realistic.
Our enthusiasm didn’t die, it just became more grounded. The first three months I wanted to quit because I kept getting sick with prolonged bronchitis. Supercharged for two-three weeks, then down for a while. Now it’s easier. Overall, I advise everyone to boost their immunity before applying.

Hanna:
Those who choose this profession need to give themselves time. At first, you want to do everything, but over time, we focused on project activities and found like-minded people — and it got easier.
In general, everything you hear about kids draining your energy — multiply by 10,500. There are many kids, and they all react differently. Sometimes you want all to be straight-A students, but it doesn’t work that way. Most don’t need your subject; “I have to study math because it’s important.” You will constantly face this disappointment. So give what you can, and kids will accept it. You can’t teach everyone, but you can bring them to a certain level.

Alla:
Any teacher who wants to make a change should focus on certain kids, and it’s not about “favorites.” These kids listen more, see you as a mentor. If you have a few like that, you can start working with them. Then unexpectedly, others join. Sometimes a child who didn’t speak at the start of the year later interviews people for the podcast.

How the Podcast Started (and Why “Holy Petrivtsi”)

Hanna:
At first, we noticed the library, which still has Soviet murals hidden behind a curtain. We wanted to change it and organize a space for kids. But then we decided to make a podcast. Alla Anatoliivna had some experience — she knew how to record and publish on platforms.
The name “Holy Petrivtsi” has nothing to do with religion. We just needed a name so that nobody would get offended because the podcast involved two villages — Old and New Petrivtsi. We even checked websites to see how these two villages came about and what they share. Then we thought, why not “holy”? The name became a kind of unifier.
Alla:
To avoid offending either village, we added a bit of “holiness.” The name is unique and memorable, which is good for promotion.
We wanted to do something that we’d like for at least a year and that wouldn’t stress us out. We recorded the first episode ourselves, then planned to invite kids. We hoped the project would grow and kids would handle recording interviews and editing, but we didn’t even expect cool bloggers to visit us as guests.
Now most of the work is done by kids: recording, social media, marketing. God bless Vladik, who edits everything. Currently, six kids from 7th, 8th, and 9th grades work on the podcast.
But to engage kids, you need a well-formed idea and some groundwork. If you throw everything at the kids right away, the chance that it will turn into a finished concept is very small. So there must be at least initial signs of a project.
Hanna:
Just like in class, with kids, the question “What do you want?” doesn’t work. They want to sleep, run, eat, and play Kahoot — preferably outside.
Alla:
It’s like with a group of friends: you won’t gather until you say, “We’re meeting this day, this place.” Otherwise, you could wait for weeks.
Hanna:
I was surprised when I saw that kids started to work actively and felt responsible. The editor delivers episodes on time, girls write posts so good you don’t need to check them. They are fully autonomous, like a mini company. My experience was only “The teacher said to go to the Olympiad, you’ll get a certificate.” But they have unlimited thinking, they see prospects and can invite a famous blogger even though the podcast has only 60,000 subscribers.
Alla:
They also draw and sell merch themselves, like eco-bags. It’s their idea — not to print but to paint on them by hand.
I envy those who will join next year. Here, there are kids you can fully rely on. Plus, this project has many possibilities. Every time I listen to a new episode — for example, Dmytro Raievskyi talks about marketing, and it spreads on Twitter (X) — it’s very motivating. When we see how our podcast develops, how kids react, who the guests are, how donations come in via Buy Me a Coffee, it saves us morally and physically.

What They Like Most About Teaching

Alla:
When kids say, “This will be useful to me, I can feel it.” When they can speak a little English. Because the biggest problem at my school was that I knew grammar pretty well, but speaking was really hard for me. I want kids to not care if it’s Past Simple or Perfect—they just try to say something to people.

Hanna:
When they ask questions. This is not elementary school with motivated parents and kids who are always curious. These are teenagers, and if you hear a question that’s really relevant to the topic, it’s inspiring.
Nowadays, these kids may look like adults, but you shouldn’t forget they’re still children. Or vice versa—you want to explain something simply to 5th or 6th graders, and they turn on ChatGPT on you.

Alla:
Recently, on the podcast, there was a 4th grader who talked about studying in Belgium. She said she didn’t really like it because the other kids were “very toxic.” I didn’t have that word in my vocabulary when I was nine.

What They Realized Over This Year

Hanna:
I’m very grateful for this opportunity and would continue the program, but family reasons don’t allow it. It’s an amazing experience, and it’s worth trying even for a year. Maybe I’ll return to teaching later.

Alla:
I don’t regret this year—it was and still is wonderful. But you have to know when to stop. Financial issues are very important. It’s hard to give your best when you can’t maintain your usual income level. Also, sometimes control over processes depends not on you, but there’s a good chance you’ll end up in a great school, one that will pleasantly surprise you like ours did. So if you’ve thought about joining the program, hold on to that idea.

Hanna:
And you can still end up in the graduation albums.

Alla:
We’re waiting for the graduation to present the results of our work. We hope we can bring our kids. It’s really cool when they talk about their own experience.  

P.S. Why It’s Important for Hanna and Alla That Students Address Them by Their Patronymics

Alla:
We had a discussion about this with colleagues. Using patronymics nicely builds your boundaries and influences how kids behave. Sometimes they want you to be their buddy: “You’re great, I’ll help you however I can, but we’re not friends and won’t be while we’re at school.” Because later you can’t get those boundaries back. If you become their friend, it only gets worse. In September or October, you might think it’s cool, but by March you’ll feel it’s awful because kids don’t listen to you.

Hanna:
Personal boundaries get crossed constantly, starting from “Like my TikTok video.”

Alla:
And ending with “Let’s go for a smoke break.” Patronymics might sound like a relic of the Soviet era, but unfortunately, they work. Our mentors don’t fully agree with this strictness, but a year at school has proven it to me.

On the profile picture of 28-year-old physics teacher Andriy Savchuk, there is a portrait drawn by a student. It shows the teacher wearing a green bandana. Andriy explains that the drawing was made during the summer institute of the Teach for Ukraine Fellowship. Currently, Andriy Savchuk teaches at the Holovuriv Lyceum in the Boryspil district of Kyiv region. He has an engineering degree in energy systems but used to work as a designer of industrial cooling systems.

— At what point in your life did you apply to the program?

I found out about the program while still at university. It was inspiring, and I wanted to get involved, but I didn’t feel confident or competent enough to share knowledge with children. It’s a big responsibility.
In spring 2023, I reached a point where I just couldn’t stand my job anymore. I was working remotely, almost all my old colleagues had quit. The tasks were pretty routine, so I decided I wanted to change fields. Then I saw the call for applications for “Teach for Ukraine.” They especially needed specialists in natural sciences, math, and physics.

The selection was pretty thorough. At the summer institute, the final stage, there was a lot of communication—not only training sessions but also interaction among participants. We learned about age-specific perception, how to provide first psychological and basic medical aid. This helped me understand how to cope with many tasks under stressful conditions. And for the “Teach for Ukraine” team, it was a chance to see how effectively we react, resolve conflicts, and cooperate.

— Most people only know Holovuriv as a village in Kyiv region — what was your reaction to the placement?

Honestly, it was exactly as you described. When they announce placement results, they give you a profile with information about the place where you’ll be sent. It included school administration contacts, a brief historical note, info about basic infrastructure like bus schedules from the Kharkivska metro station. It was exactly the place I wanted: calm, a small school with not too many kids. Easy to quickly learn everyone’s names.
I teach physics from grades 7 to 11, and my colleague, who was also placed here, teaches math from grades 5 to 8. Usually, placements are in pairs, but sometimes it’s one or three or four participants (if the school is large).
We got lucky with living conditions: the school administration found several housing options. We chose a house rented out by the school nurse. It’s comfortable, insulated, with gas heating.

Now I have my own car, so it takes about 40 minutes to get from the village to Kyiv. Public transport takes about an hour and a half, with traffic jams included. I go to Kyiv once every few weeks since there’s almost nothing to do in the village. But a good number of people go out to the center in the evenings to stroll or sit in the park. The village is surrounded by forests and several lakes—beautiful nature.
Kyiv has always been a place for me to visit, spend some time, and return. I’m from Vinnytsia region but have lived in a village near Kyiv since 2009.

Expectations vs. Reality

The village is about 2.5 km by 2.5 km. The staff is quite young; the school is small, about 20 teachers including me and my colleague from “Teach for Ukraine.” Before I started teaching, physics was taught by the principal, the history teacher, and some chemistry and biology teachers. Overall, the staff is very willing to cooperate and find effective solutions.
I expected the students to greet me like, “Wow, a new teacher! Let’s do something cool.” But in reality, the reaction was much less enthusiastic: “Ah, a new physics teacher? Alright, take a seat, hope you don’t disappear after a year.” Even now, I sometimes lack enthusiasm from students.

Challenges come almost daily. The biggest for me is getting the class ready to work. Students might play the tired card, complain about how many tests they’ve taken. I say, “I understand, it’s been a hard day with lots of work.” Then through conversation, I start to engage them, throw out a hook that leads us to the lesson topic. Kids barely realize when we’re already discussing the subject.
If students aren’t interested, there’s always a reason. They don’t understand or see the need to gain knowledge or skills. Sometimes their background is weak. The curriculum assumes knowledge and learning experience kids should already have. But often they learn a topic, take a test, and forget it. For example, 10th graders should understand classical mechanics—material they studied in 7th and now again in 10th grade. But sometimes I have to start from scratch.

To spark interest, I try to build a strong association—even a silly one. The funnier, the better it sticks and creates an emotional reaction. But what seems fun or silly to me can look like cringe to the kids. There’s no universal recipe for engaging students. If cringe guaranteed learning, I’d embarrass myself every day and enjoy it.
Also, working with my mentor helps a lot. At the start of the year, it was hard to delegate lab and practical tasks to students. Those were some of my toughest lessons to engage students. Usually, I’d demonstrate experiments myself, and the kids were happy with that. But my mentor told me: “Give them the responsibility. Let them do it themselves. There are instructions and equipment. If they don’t understand, let them read aloud.” She explained how to better guide students. Now, students handle labs on their own. I love these lessons; I use that time to monitor or prepare for the next lesson.

How to Set Boundaries as a Young Teacher?

Students often reach out and share stories or problems. They like to spend breaks in the physics classroom—even those who don’t have physics with me. The only informal space in school is the corridor, but in my room, I rearranged desks into a “U” shape with free space in the middle.

From day one, I felt the kids just need to be heard. They put aside their business for five or ten minutes to talk. A kid might share a story about their pet or a fishing trip with their parents. “Andriy Yuriyovych, imagine, we have this great lake! The crucian carp are huge! If you’re interested, call me and my dad—we’ll take you fishing.”

It’s also important from the start to discuss boundaries. “We have a great relationship, we learn well, but let’s set limits. There are things I can’t do—like hang out on weekends or go to a bar in the neighboring village.” They might say, “We won’t tell anyone, no one will find out,” but it’s enough that I know. If the relationship shifts from teacher-student to friends, learning won’t happen. First and foremost, I came here as a teacher.

“You Need to Give Kids a Push and an Idea—Then They Start Working”

For extracurricular activities, I started a tech club. I dreamed that we’d explore how systems and mechanisms work, maybe fix devices. But in winter, students’ focus shifted to informal communication and board games. So we decided to develop our own board game that fits their needs and wishes.
Surprisingly, the students’ favorite game is “Monopoly.” It’s designed for eight players, but they play with 10 or 12 and rarely get bored. Still, they want to tweak or add things. If you want it better—do it yourself.
We decided to use mechanics from “Monopoly” and “Machi Koro” and base the game on the kids’ daily life, maybe village life in general—still working on that. The visuals will be entirely the kids’ responsibility. They’re a bit unsure, so I push them a bit, give them an idea. Then they catch on and start working.

What Brings the Most Joy in Teaching

When I see the moment of enlightenment: “Wow, I got it.” That charges me for days, no matter how exhausted I am. While they’re ready to absorb new info, I keep explaining.
Also, I enjoy communication with my cohort peers. It helps to share stories and reflect, to look at situations from outside. Maybe even get useful advice or at least understanding and acceptance.
I’ll measure my work results by the words of parents, students, and teachers. Some students happily come to physics lessons, almost never late—especially 11th grade. At first, I told them to come before the bell. Then I talked to the class teacher and learned they’re late not only to me but also to other classes they don’t have to take for external testing. Sometimes they’re even later to other lessons. “Andriy Yuriyovych, they’re just rushing to get to your class.”
Sometimes parents tell me about their kids, “Thanks for trying, but he won’t succeed.” But I see that the kid does succeed after support and help. If they make a mistake that worsens the result, we can help understand and redo it. Kids need the right to make mistakes because many have an internal ban on messing up. How can they learn otherwise?

What I’ve Learned Over This Year

First, education has a lot of bureaucracy. I don’t understand why huge folders of orders and documents exist; everything could easily be digital. I don’t know how teachers handle this work, especially with teacher salaries. No wonder many burn out, especially in small towns.
There’s objectively a shortage of teachers. How many school graduates dream of becoming teachers? How can we expect economic prosperity if the number of teachers keeps shrinking?
On a personal level, after working at school, I noticed I became more proactive. At the summer institute, I was more an observer than an actor, would speak up only when asked or told to. Now, regardless of whether I’m asked, I start acting and speaking even if unsure of the final outcome.
I want to stay for a second year. Partly because students ask me to, but I also understand one year isn’t enough to share knowledge and do something really cool together. Two years seems just right.
If you’re thinking about joining the program, definitely do it. Everyone who interacts with kids—whether nieces, nephews, younger siblings—I’d recommend finding time, even just ten minutes, to stop everything and listen to a kid talk about a cartoon or a blogger and give some feedback. That’ll make the kid feel way better.