“My priority was getting into university. The notion that that was essential was fundamental to Russian and Soviet education. It testified to class in a society that loudly proclaimed equality for all. If you were accepted, you were clever, had studied hard, and, most likely, came from a good family. If you didn't get in, you were obviously stupid. By the time I was to enroll, universities had begun to give their students a reprieve from the army for the duration of their studies. If you went into the military, you were really stupid.

Soviet society, which hypocritically extolled the working-man, in reality drew a line making it clear that people with higher education were in the top tier and those without it were second class. This was done, most likely, to incentivize all members of society, whatever their origins, to try for higher education, which was not a bad idea. The road to success was inscribed on every wall and in every textbook: "Study, study, and again, study," as the great Lenin instructed us. "You aren't completely stupid, are you? If you want to climb the social ladder, to get to the top-study!" The positive hero in every Soviet film is a factory worker who goes to night school.

In practice this didn't work out well. The long-term consequence was a catastrophic fall in the prestige of any profession associated with manual labor, even the most highly skilled. To be a PTUshnik, a student at a vocational school or college, became synonymous with being a dunce. It was nothing out of the ordinary for a teacher to tell a student, "You, Petrov, are a half-wit and fit only for vocational college." The implication was that after becoming a plumber, electrician, or factory worker, Petrov would join the army of losers and alcoholics with no prospects in life. This inevitably led to intense pressure on schoolchildren. Not going into higher education was shameful.”