It was another cheerful Saturday afternoon in Kamloops, and Sasha was ready to continue spicing up his Ukrainian Diaspora Language Class. The students, still laughing about the garlic-themed antics of last week, took their seats eagerly, wondering what Sasha had in store this time.
“Good afternoon, everyone,” Sasha began, his voice carrying the same mischievous tone that had become a signature of his classes. He placed a tray of small jars and fresh herbs on the desk. “Last week, we sang about garlic and its legendary status in Ukrainian culture. This week, we’re expanding our vocabulary and diving into the fragrant world of spices and herbs!”
The students leaned in as Sasha held up a jar of кріп (krip)—dill. “Dill,” he said, unscrewing the lid, “is the king of Ukrainian herbs. You’ll find it everywhere—borshch, pickles, salads. And its smell?” He waved the jar dramatically under Yuriy’s nose. “Like a garden in spring!”
Yuriy chuckled. “So, does dill keep vampires away too?”
Sasha laughed. “No, but it’ll make sure your borshch tastes heavenly. Now, let’s explore more!”
He wrote the day’s vocabulary on the board:
- Кріп (Krip) – Dill
- Петрушка (Petrushka) – Parsley
- М’ята (M’yata) – Mint
- Чебрець (Chebrets’) – Thyme
- Кмин (Kmin) – Caraway
- Шавлія (Shavliya) – Sage
“Each of these herbs has its place in Ukrainian cuisine and tradition,” Sasha explained. “Take петрушка (parsley), for example. It’s not just a garnish—it’s a star ingredient in soups and salads. And м’ята (mint)? Perfect for tea, especially if you’re feeling under the weather.”
The students practiced pronouncing the words, giggling over the tricky sounds in чебрець and шавлія. Sasha encouraged them to share stories of using herbs in their own kitchens. One student described how their grandmother made mint tea every morning, while another mentioned their mother’s famous dill pickles.
“Now,” Sasha said, clapping his hands together, “let’s put these words to music!”
He turned on the familiar tune of “Мій дідусь любив часник!” and began improvising new verses:
Мій дідусь любив кріп,
Додавав його у хліб,
У борщі й у холодці,
Й в огірочки на столі!
The students laughed as they joined in, adding their own twists:
Моя бабця любить м’яту,
Чай із нею п’є завзято,
А петрушку додає,
Щоб салат був як нове!
The room filled with laughter and the scent of fresh herbs as the students clapped and sang, turning vocabulary practice into a zabava.
“See how much fun we can have with language?” Sasha asked, grinning. “These herbs are more than just ingredients—they’re part of our stories, our culture, and now, our songs.”
As the class wound down, Sasha handed each student a sprig of dill. “Take this home,” he said. “Add it to your dinner, and remember today’s lesson. Language is like cooking—it’s best when shared.”
The students left, holding their dill sprigs and laughing about their improvised lyrics. Sasha watched them go, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction. Teaching, he thought, was like a good recipe—always better with a little creativity and a lot of heart.
And as he tidied up the herbs and jars, he found himself humming once again: “Часни, часни, часничок…” This time, though, the melody carried the scent of dill, parsley, and the joy of another unforgettable afternoon in Kamloops.
Leave a Reply