After graduating from high school, I failed to get into university on my first attempt simply because I lacked guidance and didn't know how the system worked. After spending the winter preparing diligently, I heard about the Faculty of Philology the following year and decided to pursue it. My ultimate goal was to enroll in what is now Abay University, known back then as the Abay Pedagogical Institute.

Ultimately, after much thought, I submitted my documents to the Kazakh division of the Faculty of Philology at KazPI (Kazakh Pedagogical Institute). I passed the first written exam. When the second stage arrived, most of the applicants around me looked well-prepared and thoroughly confident.

Serik Kirabaev, the chairman of the admissions committee, was quite young back then, and his expression was rather stern. I approached his desk and began answering questions on the Kazakh language, which were being asked by Gultay-apay, who sat beside him. After listening to me, she directed me to Kirabaev.

The questions were not overly difficult for me. I was asked to recite poems by Sabit Donentaev and a few other literary works from memory. I recited both poems flawlessly. Overall, I felt I had answered all the questions well. However, what worried me most was the subtle expressions on the examiners' faces.

As I found out later, the man sitting across from me was Serik Kirabaev, who would later become my mentor. He turned to the lady next to him and said: "Guleke, have you noticed the caliber of applicants we've had so far? This boy, however, is our kind of talent. We mustn't let him slip away."

After a brief consultation, they marked an 'Excellent' (5) on my exam sheet.

When I stepped outside, a massive crowd of anxious parents and waiting applicants was gathered by the door. Two students noticed the paper in my hand and snatched it away. One of them looked at it, lifted it high in the air, and shouted: "Wow, look at this! Serik Kirabaev gave this guy a 5!"

The second student added confidently: "If Kirabaev gave you a 5, that's it. You're in."

"But there's still one more exam left," I replied hesitantly. "No, that doesn't matter. Kirabaev's signature means it's a done deal," they insisted.

I slowly walked away toward the exit. It felt as though everyone was staring at me—some seemed to be congratulating me, while others were just watching. Even though I was completely alone, I felt an overwhelming sense of joy inside.

Once I started my studies, the professors who lectured us became unforgettable figures in my mind. We were taught the Kazakh language by Baytikova, Oralbaeva, and Musabekova; and Kazakh literature by Shaikhi Karibaev, Nygmet Gabdullin, Token Abdrakhmanov, Serik Kirabaev, and Khasen Abdibaev.

At that time, the History of the CPSU (Communist Party of the Soviet Union) was one of the core subjects. It was an era when ideology reigned supreme. Our very first history lecture was delivered by Abdiashim Ospanov. Later, various professors taught us philosophy, atheism, foreign languages, world literature, and Russian literature. Most of their names remain deeply etched in my memory.

Thanks to the solid education they provided, we graduated successfully. The dedication of our teachers became the foundation that guided our entire life paths. Today, even in our twilight years, our gratitude to them knows no bounds.

Long live Abay Kazakh National Pedagogical University!

Nurdaulet AKYSH, Honored Honored Figure of Kazakhstan, Honorary Writer of Kazakhstan, Doctor of Philological Sciences.