The crisp morning last October I had been anticipating for months finally arrived. After a two-day orientation organized by Fulbright Ukraine, I flew to Dnipro and arrived at my new apartment in the city center. I felt mild culture shock as I walked the streets, encountered the Cyrillic alphabet on storefronts, and heard Russian and Ukrainian being spoken by everyone around me.
Little did I know that in a few months, this tranquil Eastern European city would face the dropping of bombs and that Russia’s dictator would cite language as the rationale for starting a war.
Because Dnipro is in eastern Ukraine near Russia, I was led to believe that I should study Russian, and not Ukrainian, in preparation for my Fulbright. I set aside an hour a day for study, but when my progress was slow, I took a university course in the spring. This allowed me to achieve a basic understanding of conversational Russian.
But I had made a mistake. I should have been studying Ukrainian. Here’s why. Ukraine has been an independent country for 30 years. Ukrainian is the national language. TV broadcasts are in Ukrainian, and movies are released in Ukrainian. Newspapers are in Ukrainian, as well as menus in most restaurants in Dnipro. When you order at the kiosk at McDonald’s, you are given a choice of language — Ukrainian or English.
Instruction in schools and universities is delivered in Ukrainian, too. Over time, I began to see what I needed to do. At my only face-to-face class I led at Dnipro National University, I was speaking to 25 students who were studying to be interpreters. In the question-and-answer session, one of the students asked me if I spoke any other languages. I said I was studying Russian and asked, “Should I be learning Russian or Ukrainian?” All 25 students told me Ukrainian was the correct choice. I asked Nataliia, my DNU adviser, about the Russian-Ukrainian debate. She said, “Ukrainian is the future.”
At an elementary school, I thanked the principal in Russian as I was leaving. She gently corrected me as she said, “Here is how you say that in our language.” I was embarrassed. While shopping at a candy store with my 12-year-old daughter, I thanked the clerk in Russian as I checked out. She answered me in Ukrainian. My daughter whispered to me, “Dad, you really need to speak Ukrainian here.”
But the final straw for me came as Russia was building up forces on Ukraine’s borders, and I read a quote by Russian President Vladimir Putin: “We have to protect Russian-speaking people in Ukraine.” That day I stopped studying Russian and found a Ukrainian tutor. I understand that people in their 40s and older went to school in the Soviet Union where Russian was mandated. Because of this, older people prefer to speak Russian. But this new generation has returned to speaking the language of their country — Ukrainian.
For younger students, it’s perhaps because only Ukrainian and English are spoken in schools. For older students, many choose Ukrainian because of the Russian invasion that started in 2014. Kyiv journalist Anastasiia Lapatina writes, “I grew up speaking Russian in my family, (but after the revolution known as Maidan) I remember feeling an overwhelming need to speak only Ukrainian.” For me, I honor her spirit as I choose to study and speak Ukrainian during my Fulbright journey.
My Fulbright research project involved working with students and teachers in schools in Ukraine that teach English using new language strategies that I designed. I used the children’s books I wrote, which model how rhyme, rhythm and repetition help children in reading and language learning, to assess student language learning outcomes.
As I worked with the students, my biggest surprise was at how well the children understood English. I was also buoyed by their excitement and enthusiasm. By the time the fall semester was over, I had my teachers and classrooms in place, ready to launch my research project and to collect data on the effectiveness of my methods in the spring. But an ominous feeling was building in November as Russian troops gathered on the borders of Ukraine. It was mildly concerning, but I little suspected that Russia would destroy my Fulbright experience and my time in the country when the new year began.
Dark clouds gathered in January as Belarus broke its pledge to Ukraine and invited Russian soldiers to occupy its border with Ukraine near Kyiv. The news became worse and worse as Putin obviously was using Ukraine as a bargaining chip to the West, demanding a rollback to the sphere of influence of the Soviet Union days. It was not about language at all.
I remained optimistic as the West banded together in support of Ukraine. But as the news from Washington about the Russian threat grew more and more serious, I knew my days as a Fulbright Scholar in Ukraine might soon end. On a Friday afternoon in January, rumors broke out that the U.S., fearing an imminent war, was pulling embassy staff and family and diplomats from Ukraine.
It became official last Sunday, and then last Monday we learned that the State Department was also pulling Ukraine’s Fulbright Scholars and relocating us to Warsaw for a 30-day “wait and see” period. I did not want to leave my mission in Ukraine, but we were given no choice.
I flew to Warsaw, and my family returned to the U.S. Our dream was over — our joyful time in Ukraine had ended. Now we teach our classes remotely to our students in Ukraine. I marvel how the students, amid threats of war, can focus on their courses, but they do.
We write encouraging words to the people we left behind in Ukraine. I get sobering emails from friends with words like, “Michael, don’t know how long it will last and if we are going to survive or not, but I want to say to you that I was happy and honored we met and became friends.” We talk to the media about Ukraine and try to build support for the country we had come to love.
We have become activists here in Warsaw, attending peace rallies, carrying Ukrainian flags and wearing Ukrainian shirts, and working social media to get the truth out about the young democracy that is Ukraine.
Now it’s Feb. 24 as I am writing, and Putin has done the unthinkable. He is bombing cities throughout Ukraine, including Dnipro. He says once again that Russia has to rescue ethnic Russian speakers from Kyiv, with Kyiv being the democratically elected Ukrainian-speaking government. My heart is broken as I think about the children. I think about the kids who greeted me like a hero when I spoke at their schools. Kids wearing American logo shirts and speaking English. Kids filled with joy and happiness. Now, those kids are seeing the ugly side of Russian aggression.
I shudder to think of warplanes dropping bombs into their cities and schools, of Russian tanks and soldiers with deadly weapons that soon will be in their streets. I dread the thought of their older brothers and sisters having to join the army to fight the Russians and to defend their country instead of living a peaceful life.
I am a children’s book author. My life is devoted to children. Now these children’s lives are being destroyed by a ruthless dictator who does not value human life. I join with John Lennon as I imagine what life should be: “Imagine all the people, living life in peace.”
I pray that peace will someday return to Ukraine.
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ABOUT THE WRITER
Michael Sampson is a Fulbright Scholar to Ukraine and a professor of literacy at St. John’s University in New York City. He is a New York Times bestselling author of 35 books for children. His latest book, “Armadillo Antics,” comes out in April.
