Yuri Yakovlev striped stick to read. Yuri Yakovlev "striped stick"

28.04.2021 -

Yu. Yakovlev Striped stick

What do you think to do with it? they asked the mother.

She shrugged. Then, in a trembling voice, she said that he had gotten out of hand, that he was unable to control him. And she began to cry softly. He was accustomed to these scenes, knowing in advance how they would end, and endured them like bitter but necessary medicine. When he was very pestered, he made a promise to improve. Just to let go.

At school he was threatened with expulsion, in the police - with a colony. But the threats did not frighten him - he knew well their price.

There is no such law that a person was kicked out into the street. Vseobuch! Compulsory eight-year education! - without blinking an eye, he answered the teachers.

Criminals are taken to the colony. And I'm not a criminal. I'm loose, - he explained to the police.

And indeed, he was not sent to any colony and continued to be kept at school. He was surprisingly accurate in finding the weaknesses of adults and used this to great advantage for himself.

In some book, he read that the best defense is an offensive. These words came to his taste, became his motto. And if he had a coat of arms, he would write his motto on it in golden letters.

When the janitor caught him unscrewing the plugs on the stairs and hit him below the back with a broom, he did not rush to run, but rushed to the offensive.

We don't have corporal punishment! he called to the janitor. We're going to jail for this!

The janitor hesitantly lowered his broom, rolled his eyes, spat, and walked away from harm's way. And he stood still and followed the janitor with a mocking look.

Such was this Mishka from the ninth apartment.

He usually paced the yard with his hands in his pockets. His hands were clenched into fists, and his trousers were bulging, as if he had a stone or an apple in his pockets. This time he appeared in the yard with a stick. A large smooth stick was painted alternately in white and black. She looked like a police baton, and a barrier, and a zebra skin. And this delighted Mishka. First, he walked with a stick along the wooden picket fence of the square - and dry crackling scattered throughout the yard. Then he succumbed, like a hockey puck, to a jar from under the sprat - and with a plaintive ringing it rolled into the gateway. Then he hit the gaping kid, and he burst into a roar. And Mishka went on, waving a stick like a mace.

On the way he came across an old woman with her granddaughter. There was no need to stop and engage in conversation with her. Then it would be all right. But Mishka was let down by curiosity.

Is anyone blind in your home? - asked the old woman, covering her granddaughter from a stick whistling in the air.

No one thought to go blind! Mishka muttered and hit his boot with a stick. But he already fell for this question, as if on a hook, and asked: - What does the blind have to do with it?

Only the blind walk with such sticks.

Yes, blind people! - Mishka blurted out and wanted to go away, but the tenacious hook did not let him go. In vain he blurted out word by word:

I like it, I'm going! Who will forbid me?

In the depths of his soul, he was tempted to find out what the blind had to do with it. And the old woman, although no one asked her about it, began to explain:

If a person sees with both eyes, he will not go with such a stick. This is a blind man feeling the way with a stick. She is like eyes to him. And black and white stripes so that drivers and carriage drivers know that a blind man is crossing the street.

The granddaughter was capricious and began to pull her grandmother. She pulled it like a small tug pulling a big barge. And the grandmother swam for her granddaughter.

The old woman left, but her words did not leave Mishka alone. Like hooks, they clung to his thoughts and dragged him to a noisy city crossroads, where half an hour ago, in a walking stream of people, he saw the motionless figure of a man. The man stood on the corner, in the path of the stream, and looked up at the sky. His pointed chin was raised, and the visor of his faded cap pointed at the clouds. The thin shackle of his glasses caught on his yellowish ear. The man looked at something in the sky. He could have moved aside so as not to interfere with people crossing the street, but, apparently, he was afraid to miss something in the sky.

The bear immediately became interested in the sky. He lifted his head and began to search the clouds with his eyes. But, not finding anything interesting, he lowered his head and saw an unusual striped stick in the man's hand.

The bear immediately forgot about the sky. The stick beckoned him, called, attracted, teased him with its sharp colors. He shrugged his shoulders impatiently, and his hand by itself began to reach for the black and white stripes. Here she touched the stick. She clung to her ... The gaping passer-by did not have time to figure out what had happened, and Mishka was already rushing down the street, clutching a striped stick to himself.

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Y. Yakovlev
striped stick

– What do you think to do with it? they asked the mother.

At school he was threatened with expulsion, in the police - with a colony. But the threats did not frighten him - he knew their price well.

- There is no such law that a person was kicked out into the street. Vseobuch! Compulsory eight-year education! Without blinking an eye, he answered the teachers.

- Criminals are taken to the colony. And I'm not a criminal. I am loose-lipped,” he explained to the police.

And indeed, he was not sent to any colony and continued to be kept at school. He was surprisingly accurate in finding the weaknesses of adults and used this to great advantage for himself.

In some book, he read that the best defense is an offensive. These words came to his taste, became his motto. And if he had a coat of arms, he would write his motto on it in golden letters.

When the janitor caught him unscrewing the plugs on the stairs and hit him below the back with a broom, he did not rush to run, but rushed to the offensive.

We don't have corporal punishment! he called to the janitor. We're going to jail for this!

The janitor hesitantly lowered his broom, rolled his eyes, spat, and walked away from harm's way. And he stood still and followed the janitor with a mocking look.

Such was this Mishka from the ninth apartment.

He usually paced the yard with his hands in his pockets. His hands were clenched into fists, and his trousers were bulging, as if he had a stone or an apple in his pockets. This time he appeared in the yard with a stick. A large smooth stick was painted alternately in white and black. She looked like a police baton, and a barrier, and a zebra skin. And this delighted Mishka. First, he walked with a stick along the wooden picket fence of the square - and dry crackling scattered throughout the yard. Then he succumbed, like a hockey puck, to a can from under the sprat - and with a plaintive ringing it rolled into the gateway. Then he hit the gaping kid, and he burst into a roar. And Mishka went on, waving a stick like a mace.

On the way he came across an old woman with her granddaughter. There was no need to stop and engage in conversation with her. Then it would be all right. But Mishka was let down by curiosity.

Is there anyone blind in your house? the old woman asked, shielding her granddaughter from a stick whistling in the air.

- No one thought to go blind! Mishka muttered and hit his boot with a stick. But he already fell for this question, as if on a hook, and asked: - What does the blind have to do with it?

Only the blind walk with sticks like that.

- Well, yes, blind! - Mishka blurted out and wanted to go away, but the tenacious hook did not let him go. In vain he blurted out word by word:

- I like it, I'm going! Who will forbid me?

In the depths of his soul, he was tempted to find out what the blind had to do with it. And the old woman, although no one asked her about it, began to explain:

- If a person sees with both eyes, he will not go with such a stick. This is a blind man feeling the way with a stick. She is like eyes to him. And black and white stripes so that drivers and carriage drivers know that a blind man is crossing the street.

The granddaughter was capricious and began to pull her grandmother. She pulled it like a small tug pulling a big barge. And the grandmother swam for her granddaughter.

The stranger did not scream, did not rush after him. On the contrary, when Mishka looked back on the run, he saw that he was still looking at the sky, as if he had not noticed the loss ...

The man was blind! Mishka guessed this only after the words of the old woman, and then he said to himself: “It's okay. Buy yourself another stick. There will be no other time to stare at the sky and prevent people from crossing the street!”

The stick, which looks like a police baton, a barrier, and a zebra skin, has now become a burden for Mishka. With her bold black stripes, she crossed out all the good mood. The bear decided to immediately get rid of the stick. Let it not remind you of the incident at the crossroads. It is necessary to throw it into the neighboring yard or hide it under the stairs. His inventive mind began to figure out how to get rid of the stick.

And what if the blind man is still standing on the edge of the sidewalk, his sightless eyes raised to the sky, and cannot take a step without his striped stick?

No, he didn't throw the stick away and hide it under the stairs. He wrinkled his nose in annoyance and trudged to the gate. He didn't want to go back to the crossroads. And he would never go if he was sent. But no one sent him, he ordered himself to return to the crossroads and give the stick to the owner. The stick interfered with him. She, as it were, informed everyone she met that she had been torn out of the hands of a blind man. Mishka tried to put it in his sleeve. But the sleeve was small and narrow for a stick.

The closer he got to the crossroads, the more disgusting it became in his soul. If the stick had not been pulled out by him, but by another, it would have been possible to pour it hard on that one. And you won't get drunk on yourself. Several times he tried to turn back. He persuaded himself not to go, demanded, threatened. Finally quarreled with himself. But a man appeared before him, who, waiting, stands on the corner and stares into the sky with blind eyes and cannot move.

There was no blind man at the crossroads. He somehow got away without a stick. Perhaps the pioneers moved him to the other side. The bear stopped at the place where the blind man stood and began to think what to do next. He interfered with the flow, and hurrying people pushed him. Shouldered. Or maybe passers-by take him for a blind man and now someone will volunteer to take him to the other side? He did not wait and crossed the road himself. Under the noses of cars. He no longer waved the stick, but dragged it behind him, as if it were clumsy and heavy.

Traffic lights flickered on and off. People were in a hurry to get to the other side. They were happy people: their hands were full of bags, briefcases, umbrellas. Nobody was holding a striped stick. The bear looked angrily at the people and walked along the crossroads, from corner to corner, hoping to find the blind man. But there were only sighted people around.

The woman who was crossing the road next to Mishka hurriedly shared the news with her companion:

“Here, at the crossroads, a man has just been run over.

- To death?

- Who knows.

The mouse went cold. He felt that his arms and legs were weakening. It must have been blind. If he walked with a stick, the drivers would know that he was blind and would not count on what the person sees. He continued to follow the women. He wanted to ask if the man who had been hit by the car was blind. But he did not have the courage to approach them.

We must try to find the blind man. Maybe he wasn't hit by a car. If he's alive, he's probably wandering around the city with his arms outstretched helplessly. Without the striped stick, he would never find his way home. After all, the stick of his eyes, his guide, his constant friend.

The bear darted through the streets, looking into the faces of passers-by. He looked for the raised chin, the brim of his cap pointed at the clouds, the silver headband behind the yellowish ear. The stick pulled Mishka's hand away. She did not know that she had come to a sighted person, and out of habit she knocked on a stone with an iron tip, gave signals: walk boldly, walk boldly ...

Once he came across a blind man, but it was not his blind man.

No one pulled out a stick from this one, and it, like a pendulum, rhythmically tapped on the sidewalk: step boldly ... Seeing the blind man, Mishka blushed. As if the blind man knew everything about him and looked accusingly through dark glasses. Mishka hid the stolen stick behind his back and, clinging to the wall, slipped past. But then he thought that some kid like him could snatch the stick from this blind man, and he decided to protect him.

The bear accompanied the blind man to the house and was again left alone with a heavy striped stick. This stick interfered with his life. If it were possible to run up and throw her over the roofs of houses, so that she flew to another city or, better, to another country. But the stick seemed to stick to his hand.

No, striped sticks are given not to the blind, but to criminals, so that the whole city knows that this is a criminal, and not just a loose-lipped loser. The ruthless gimlet drilled into his mind, made him think about a person for whom it is always night on Earth and neither lanterns nor stars help ... But Mishka sees everything. And houses that, like in a river, are reflected in wet asphalt. And a butterfly that flew into town by mistake. Leaves and clouds. And the sun is in his eyes. But what is the joy of it, if a person died because of you?

Since he is nowhere to be found, it means that he was hit by a car. Or maybe he wanders along some distant crooked lane, gets lost and waits for Mishka to return the striped stick to him?

There is still hope, and we must hurry. We must hurry.

He got away with everything. Broken glass, broken light bulbs, broken lessons, fights. Teachers and policemen, parents of offended children and indignant public men always came to his mother. The mother silently listened to them and lowered her eyes guiltily. One would think that she was a participant in his tricks. And he stood aside, as if it did not concern him.
- What do you think to do with it? they asked the mother.
She shrugged. Then, in a trembling voice, she said that he had gotten out of hand, that he was unable to control him. And she began to cry softly. He was accustomed to these scenes, knowing in advance how they would end, and endured them like bitter but necessary medicine. When he was very pestered, he made a promise to improve. Just to let go.
At school he was threatened with expulsion, in the police - with a colony. But the threats did not frighten him - he knew well their price.
- There is no such law that a person was driven out into the street. Vseobuch! Compulsory eight-year education! - without blinking an eye, he answered the teachers.
- Criminals are taken to the colony. And I'm not a criminal. I'm loose, - he explained to the police.
And indeed, he was not sent to any colony and continued to be kept at school. He was surprisingly accurate in finding the weaknesses of adults and used this to great advantage for himself.
In some book, he read that the best defense is an offensive. These words came to his taste, became his motto. And if he had a coat of arms, he would write his motto on it in golden letters.
When the janitor caught him unscrewing the plugs on the stairs and hit him below the back with a broom, he did not rush to run, but rushed to the offensive.
We don't have corporal punishment! he called to the janitor. We're going to jail for this!
The janitor hesitantly lowered his broom, rolled his eyes, spat, and walked away from harm's way. And he stood still and followed the janitor with a mocking look.
Such was this Mishka from the ninth apartment.
He usually paced the yard with his hands in his pockets. His hands were clenched into fists, and his trousers were bulging, as if he had a stone or an apple in his pockets. This time he appeared in the yard with a stick. A large smooth stick was painted alternately in white and black. She looked like a police baton, and a barrier, and a zebra skin. And this delighted Mishka. First, he walked with a stick along the wooden picket fence of the square - and dry crackling scattered throughout the yard. Then he succumbed, like a hockey puck, to a jar from under the sprat - and with a plaintive ringing it rolled into the gateway. Then he hit the gaping kid, and he burst into a roar. And Mishka went on, waving a stick like a mace.
On the way he came across an old woman with her granddaughter. There was no need to stop and engage in conversation with her. Then it would be all right. But Mishka was let down by curiosity.
- Is anyone blind at home? - asked the old woman, covering her granddaughter from a stick whistling in the air.
- No one thought to go blind! Mishka muttered and hit his boot with a stick. But he already fell for this question, as if on a hook, and asked: - What does the blind have to do with it?
- Only the blind walk with such sticks.
- Well, yes, blind! - Mishka blurted out and wanted to go away, but the tenacious hook did not let him go. In vain he blurted out word by word:
- I like it, I'm going! Who will forbid me?
In the depths of his soul, he was tempted to find out what the blind had to do with it. And the old woman, although no one asked her about it, began to explain:
- If a person sees with both eyes, he will not go with such a stick. This is a blind man feeling the way with a stick. She is like eyes to him. And black and white stripes so that drivers and carriage drivers know that a blind man is crossing the street.
The granddaughter was capricious and began to pull her grandmother. She pulled it like a small tug pulling a big barge. And the grandmother swam for her granddaughter.
The old woman left, but her words did not leave Mishka alone. Like hooks, they clung to his thoughts and dragged him to a noisy city crossroads, where half an hour ago, in a walking stream of people, he saw the motionless figure of a man. The man stood on the corner, in the path of the stream, and looked up at the sky. His pointed chin was raised, and the visor of his faded cap pointed at the clouds. The thin shackle of his glasses caught on his yellowish ear. The man looked at something in the sky. He could have moved aside so as not to interfere with people crossing the street, but, apparently, he was afraid to miss something in the sky.
The bear immediately became interested in the sky. He lifted his head and began to search the clouds with his eyes. But, not finding anything interesting, he lowered his head and saw an unusual striped stick in the man's hand.
The bear immediately forgot about the sky. The stick beckoned him, called, attracted, teased him with its sharp colors. He shrugged his shoulders impatiently, and his hand by itself began to reach for the black and white stripes. Here she touched the stick. She clung to her ... The gaping passer-by did not have time to figure out what had happened, and Mishka was already rushing down the street, clutching a striped stick to himself.
The stranger did not scream, did not rush after him. On the contrary, when Mishka looked back on the run, he saw that he was still looking at the sky, as if he had not noticed the loss ...
The man was blind! Mishka guessed this only after the words of the old woman, and then he said to himself: “It's okay. Buy yourself another stick. There will be no other time to stare at the sky and prevent people from crossing the street!”
The stick, which looks like a police baton, a barrier, and a zebra skin, has now become a burden for Mishka. With her bold black stripes, she crossed out all the good mood. The bear decided to immediately get rid of the stick. Let it not remind you of the incident at the crossroads. It is necessary to throw it into the neighboring yard or hide it under the stairs. His inventive mind began to figure out how to get rid of the stick.
And what if the blind man is still standing on the edge of the sidewalk, his sightless eyes raised to the sky, and cannot take a step without his striped stick?
No, he didn't throw the stick away and hide it under the stairs. He wrinkled his nose in annoyance and trudged to the gate. He didn't want to go back to the crossroads. And he would never go if he was sent. But no one sent him, he ordered himself to return to the crossroads and give the stick to the owner. The stick interfered with him. She, as it were, informed everyone she met that she had been torn out of the hands of a blind man. Mishka tried to put it in his sleeve. But the sleeve was small and narrow for a stick.
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The closer he got to the crossroads, the more disgusting it became in his soul. If the stick had not been pulled out by him, but by another, it would have been possible to pour it hard on that one. And you won't get drunk on yourself. Several times he tried to turn back. He persuaded himself not to go, demanded, threatened. Finally quarreled with himself. But a man appeared before him, who, waiting, stands on the corner and stares into the sky with blind eyes and cannot move.
There was no blind man at the crossroads. He somehow got away without a stick. Perhaps the pioneers moved him to the other side. The bear stopped at the place where the blind man stood and began to think what to do next. He interfered with the flow, and hurrying people pushed him. Shouldered. Or maybe passers-by take him for a blind man and now someone will volunteer to take him to the other side? He did not wait and crossed the road himself. Under the noses of cars. He no longer waved the stick, but dragged it behind him, as if it were clumsy and heavy.
Traffic lights flickered on and off. People were in a hurry to get to the other side. They were happy people: their hands were full of bags, briefcases, umbrellas. Nobody was holding a striped stick. The bear looked angrily at the people and walked along the crossroads, from corner to corner, hoping to find the blind man. But there were only sighted people around.
The woman who was crossing the road next to Mishka hurriedly shared the news with her companion:
- Here, at the crossroads, a man has just been run over.
- To death?
- Who knows.
The mouse went cold. He felt that his arms and legs were weakening. It must have been blind. If he walked with a stick, the drivers would know that he was blind and would not count on what the person sees. He continued to follow the women. He wanted to ask if the man who had been hit by the car was blind. But he did not have the courage to approach them.
We must try to find the blind man. Maybe he wasn't hit by a car. If he's alive, he's probably wandering around the city with his arms outstretched helplessly. Without the striped stick, he would never find his way home. After all, the stick of his eyes, his guide, his constant friend.
The bear darted through the streets, looking into the faces of passers-by. He looked for the raised chin, the brim of his cap pointed at the clouds, the silver headband behind the yellowish ear. The stick pulled Mishka's hand away. She did not know that she had come to a sighted person, and out of habit she knocked on a stone with an iron tip, gave signals: walk boldly, walk boldly ...
Once he came across a blind man, but it was not his blind man.
No one pulled out a stick from this one, and it, like a pendulum, rhythmically tapped on the sidewalk: step boldly ... Seeing the blind man, Mishka blushed. As if the blind man knew everything about him and looked accusingly through dark glasses. Mishka hid the stolen stick behind his back and, clinging to the wall, slipped past. But then he thought that some kid like him could snatch the stick from this blind man, and he decided to protect him.
The bear accompanied the blind man to the house and was again left alone with a heavy striped stick. This stick interfered with his life. If it were possible to run up and throw her over the roofs of houses, so that she flew to another city or, better, to another country. But the stick seemed to stick to his hand.
No, striped sticks are given not to the blind, but to criminals, so that the whole city knows that this is a criminal, and not just a loose-lipped loser. The ruthless gimlet drilled into his mind, made him think about a person for whom it is always night on Earth and neither lanterns nor stars help ... But Mishka sees everything. And houses that, like in a river, are reflected in wet asphalt. And a butterfly that flew into town by mistake. Leaves and clouds. And the sun is in his eyes. But what is the joy of it, if a person died because of you?
Since he is nowhere to be found, it means that he was hit by a car. Or maybe he wanders along some distant crooked lane, gets lost and waits for Mishka to return the striped stick to him?
There is still hope, and we must hurry. We must hurry.

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At the lesson of literary reading, we read the story of Yu.Ya. Yakovlev "Striped stick". The guys, imagining themselves as authors, came up with their own denouement of this instructive story!

Reading...

(click on title)

Katia

Misha searched for the blind man for a very long time, but did not lose hope. Suddenly he saw that the girl was helping the blind man to cross the road. He rushed off without looking back to throw off that stone from his soul, which he had been dragging on himself all this time. When Misha caught up with the blind man, he immediately began to apologize, but he interrupted him and asked:
- Who are you boy?
Misha said:
- I'm the boy who took the striped stick from you - Misha said quietly.
- All right - the blind man sighed.
- Excuse me, please! This stick attracted me very strongly - Misha justified himself.
- Don't worry! - said the blind man.
"Thanks," Misha muttered softly. He handed over the stick and escorted the old man home.
Misha has changed since then. He became attentive to people.

Nazar
The bear ran through all the streets of the city, trying to find the blind man. He was already desperate to find him, and decided to return home. The boy was walking through a familiar park, and suddenly, on one of the benches, he noticed a familiar, burnt-out cap. Mishka ran with all his might to that shop. And sure enough, it was him! The boy held out a stick and said:
- It's yours.
The blind man felt the object, and when he realized what it was, he smiled happily.
- Thanks a lot! - he said: - I lost it at the crossroads and thought that now I could not reach the house without someone else's help.
The bear blushed and dropped his head.
- Excuse me please! the boy said. - I took your stick. I didn't know how important she is to you. But now I understand everything. I'm very embarrassed.
The blind man smiled sadly and said:
- Okay, I forgive you, boy. But don't ever do that again. This stick replaces my eyes.
Mishka offered to take the blind man home. Along the way, they met and talked. Ivan Fedorovich turned out to be a very interesting person.

Sveta
Misha rushed headlong after the blind man, but could not find him anywhere. Suddenly, in the crowd of people, the boy saw the blind man he needed. He stopped and approached. Misha gave the stick into the hands of the blind man. He didn't want to apologize, but his tongue spoke on its own.
- Excuse me for taking your stick away from you. Allow me to walk you home.
They talked for a long time. Misha learned a lot of interesting things from the life of this man. Since then, Misha often came to the old man and helped him.

Nastya P.
Misha was very remorseful about his act at the crossroads. He wandered through the lanes, but nowhere was the blind man. He no longer thought to meet him, when suddenly he suddenly raised his eyes and saw that blind man. He was with a new stick. Mishka was not afraid to apologize to him.
- Excuse me please. I accidentally.
The blind man forgave him.
After this incident, Mishka changed his behavior.

Ksyusha U.

Misha searched for his blind man for a long time. I walked through the alleys, through the streets. It soon got dark. Misha was scared, but he still searched and searched for this blind old man. Suddenly Misha accidentally stumbled upon someone. The boy raised his head and blushed all over. It was the blind man. Misha apologized. Then everything became good.

Vova
Misha went to the next street and saw a blind man, from whom he took away a striped stick. The boy slowly approached and said:
- Isn't that your wand?
- What wand? - asked the blind man.
- In black and white stripes - said Misha.
Yes, maybe mine. Where did you find it?” asked the old man.
- At the crosswalk! - Misha lied. The boy did not have the courage to admit that he had stolen the stick from the blind man.
- Yes, mine, they stole it from me! - said the blind man - Thank you, boy, for the wand! It's hard for me without her!
Misha is gone. He could not forget this incident for a long time.

Y. Yakovlev

striped stick