Kiersten Jakobsen
FLAS for Russian at the University of Pittsburgh and Moscow State University
In April 2009, I received a FLAS Fellowship through CREEES which enabled me to enroll in an intensive Russian language course with the first component at the University of Pittsburgh and the second at Moscow State University’s Center for International Education. Because my dissertation focuses on Russian and Soviet cinema, a solid knowledge of the Russian language is crucial. Until the summer of 2009, I had never had the opportunity to study the langue intensively. Without the support of CREEES, this opportunity would never have been available.
The first several days at the University of Pittsburgh were more than interesting. All my classes took place inside the Cathedral of Learning, the second tallest educational building in the world. Each day, I entered the building on the west side in order to read – again and again – a plaque positioned at the base of the stairs. With the Millennium Panther perched outside the student union at my back and “The Cauldron of Our Destiny” etched dark before my eyes, I pushed my way through a noiseless and heavy revolving door. After this, it was a silent climb up several flights of stairs somewhere inside this steel and limestone leviathan. To be honest, after five weeks pacing the bowels of this gothic monument, I never knew exactly where I was. Things were beautifully and terrifyingly symmetrical. By week two, I decided to turn left at every door, just for consistency’s sake.
My place in the classroom was right next to the window overlooking more of the building. Every once in a while, a strip of paper floated by, carried upwards on a warm and invisible current of air.
Svitlana Malykhina’s advanced Russian was precisely the course for which I had been looking. Monday through Friday from 09:00am to 3:00pm, Svitlana challenged us with grammar drills, oral presentations, writing exercises, reading and listening comprehension activities, and weekly class debates. Every Wednesday, we screened a contemporary Russian film, and the following Monday we submitted a three-page analysis of the film. Fridays allowed for an hour of song – the real highlight of the week – with all students from the Summer Language Institute in attendance. The rigors of the classroom were replaced by off-key screaming of songs such as Непогодa and Пусть бегут неуклюже (or Песенкa Крокодилa Гены). These tunes – and a heavy load of homework – carried us through the weekends.
At the end of week five, we completed our midterms and immediately flew to Moscow. On the international leg of the flight, I sat next to a woman I would come to know as Anna – a Muscovite who left Russia in the early 90s. Our conversations, all in Russian, were extraordinarily candid. I learned an incredible amount over the course of nine hours which would have been impossible were it not for the course of the previous five weeks. Exiting the plane, Anna gave me her hand and wished me luck and success in her city.
What happened next I don’t quite know how to describe. Having been to Moscow before, I knew what to expect – which was, of course, that I should not and could not expect anything. Everything changes or is in a state of becoming or obsolescence in Moscow. Moscow is unpredictable. Moscow is overwhelming. Moscow is unparalleled. In Moscow, things just happen – like the ride from the airport to Moscow State University in a late-model bus with dusty taupe curtains and Pink Floyd’s Another Brick in the Wall emanating from the radio. Or the group of “old Soviets” (as they called themselves) I happened upon who sang songs to me from the war years, their hats in their hands and some tears in their eyes. Or the puddles that appear out of nowhere threatening to swallow entire city blocks, the monkeys sitting in your lap at the circus, the woman on the metro reading Pavel Florensky to your left and the man reading Victor Pelevin on your right. Or the passenger who eavesdrops on your conversation, then exits the train saying, “I, too, enjoy the films of Andrei Tarkovsky.” Or the group of young Russians celebrating a birthday at Patriarch’s Ponds who ask you to help them finish their champagne while you sing songs you learned weeks ago in the Cathedral of Learning. Or living in the first tallest educational building in the world which is just as impossible to navigate as the second tallest educational building in the world. Or watching $1 films in a building known as one of Stalin’s “Seven Sisters.” Running into a Russian you recognize as the one who visits Klutsis’ Axonometric Painting (1920) at the New Tretyakov Gallery as often as you do. Knowing as soon as you press words about Moscow onto a page, they’re no longer relevant.
Realizing parts of history are beginning to disappear.
After the summer course ended, I remained in Moscow for several weeks, using the language skills I learned in a handful of archives across the city. Most of my days were spent at RGALI investigating materials relevant to my dissertation. This time, I read countless documents with more speed and precision than I was able to attain before the summer’s intensive language course. Without question, my language skills improved dramatically. As a result, my analysis and my understanding of those documents relating to my work has become more nuanced, meticulous, definitive. Without the support of CREEES and the FLAS Fellowship, the quality of my scholarship would be of another sort indeed.