Mental Arithmetic — A Compass Guiding Toward the Future

Choosing the right path in life is essential. Some people lose their way, while others find the right direction early. This difference often lies not in knowledge, but in the ability to think. At this very point, mental arithmetic serves not merely as an academic subject, but as a guiding compass.

Mental arithmetic is the gym of the brain. Just as the human body becomes weak without exercise, the brain also slows down without training. Traditional mathematics usually focuses on the final result, whereas mental arithmetic emphasizes the process. A child thinks about how a problem is solved, visualizes it, and uses both hemispheres of the brain simultaneously. This provides a great advantage not only in mathematics, but also in reading, writing, and everyday life.

Mental arithmetic is not an internal calculator — it is internal confidence. Many parents choose mental arithmetic for the purpose of fast calculation. However, its greatest achievement is increasing a child’s self-confidence. In today’s fast-paced world, knowledge alone is not enough. A person must adapt quickly, make decisions swiftly, and think independently. This subject is like a solid foundation laid for a child’s future. A child who practices mental arithmetic today goes to the board without fear. They do not think about the wrong answer, but about possibilities.

I, Lazokat Pirmatova, entered this field in 2023 by studying at the “IqroKids” Educational Center, and in the same year, I began offering courses myself. I started with only four students, gradually teaching more children, and today I teach mental arithmetic to over 100 students. My students regularly participate in national competitions and proudly win first, second, and third places.

My goal is to raise a generation that thinks. This is not just about giving children knowledge, but about teaching them how to think. In today’s fast and complex world, success does not come from memorized formulas, but from the ability to make independent decisions. In 2024, five of my students earned the opportunity to participate in the Dubai International Olympiad.

I want to see a generation shaped by education that develops personality and character. I did not choose mental arithmetic by chance. I have seen fear of mathematics in the eyes of many children. This fear does not come from numbers, but from inner doubt — the belief of “I can’t do it.” My mission is to free them from that inner insecurity.

In conclusion, my aim is to light a spark in children’s lives through numbers. This light illuminates their path, strengthens their confidence, and encourages them to step boldly into the future. Because true education does not begin with transferring knowledge, but with helping a person believe in themselves. For me, mental arithmetic is not just a field of education — it is a future built on confidence.

Lazokat Ortigaliyevna Pirmatova is a fourth-year student in the Preschool Education program at the Faculty of Pedagogy and Psychology of Kokand State University.

English poetic adaptation (song-style):
I carry all my sorrow in my heart,
I take my longing everywhere I go.
When I hear your voice, my soul still shakes,
Please don’t cry from missing me, my mom.
If I hide my love deep down inside,
If I fail to say how much I care,
Please don’t say, “My child has me forgot,”
Please don’t cry from longing, mom, my dear.
If I spread my pain before your eyes,
I know your heart could never bear it all.
That is why I keep it locked inside,
Please don’t cry for me at all, my mom.
For me you gave up everything you had,
Knowing this, my conscience won’t stay still.
Far away, I carry all your pride,
Please don’t think of me so much, my mom.
Think of yourself, at least just once or two,
Your whole life’s been “my child” night and day.
I know I am the heartbeat in your chest,
But please, just once, think of yourself… my mom.

Nigora Nurullayeva has actively participated in numerous competitions, contests, projects, and webinars to date. She is the proud recipient of multiple local and international certificates, reflecting her dedication, initiative, and commitment to continuous learning. I often write some poems and stories.

A Beautiful Memory

Perhaps one day you’ll come to stand beside me,

Ask how I am, look sadly into my eyes.

I do not know what state I’ll be in then,

I’ll face you silently, with quiet sighs.

Before my eyes those looks will pass once more,

The breath of spring, the playful drifting breeze,

The first sweet words of love we spoke before—

All, all will call me back to memories.

Now do not let my heart burn anymore,

For everything is buried in the past.

That innocent, secret love of yours

Lives only in the letters that will last.

I stand beside you, staring on in wonder,

No strength to speak, no chance to say a word.

What could I say, what would I even utter?

I ask of you, as troubled and disturbed.

With a faint smile you say, “I’m doing fine,”

And know, for me that answer is enough.

Though days and months and even years may pass,

You’ll live within my heart, deep and tough.

I know we have so many things to say,

Yet still our tongues refuse to break the air.

Do not torment your heart, please, anyway—

Our paths were meant to part by fate’s affair.

Now comes the time to say our last goodbye,

We slowly walk in opposite directions.

And deep inside, from distant spaces, I

Whisper: secret love survives separations.

Mother — the Great School That Raised Us

Mother is the great school that raises us.

In this article, I would like to write about my mother — a simple yet deeply faithful, kind, compassionate, and gentle woman. Although my mother does not have a higher education, she is intelligent, talented, and wise. Despite having five daughters in our family, she never complained about giving birth to girls. She raised all of us with great care and devotion. Especially because we were girls, she always chose our winter and summer clothes with taste and dressed us neatly.

She had a strong desire to study, but due to ignorance and circumstances, she was unable to receive an education. I remember that after finishing the first grade and starting summer vacation, whenever I came back from playing, my mother made me memorize the multiplication table written on the first pages of the notebooks my father had bought for my sisters.

When I was nine years old, my father gave me a fairy tale book titled “If You Laugh, It’s a Flower; If You Cry, It’s a Pearl” as a birthday gift. From that moment on, my love for books began. Gradually, I started reading books from the school library. I especially enjoyed reading works by Said Ahmad, O‘tkir Hoshimov, Tohir Malik, Hudoyberdi To‘xtaboyev, and other writers.

I remember when women from our village asked my mother, “Weren’t you afraid to send your daughter to Russia when she entered the All-Union Students’ Camp in the seventh grade?” My mother confidently replied, “I trust my daughter.”

Raising a girl is a delicate responsibility. My mother educated us not only academically but also through physical labor. To provide for eight children, my father worked as a physics teacher and also cultivated two to three hectares of land. He worked tirelessly thinning cotton plants, hoeing, and picking cotton. The atlas dress my parents bought for me to wear at the camp was the most beautiful of all; even my Russian friends Asya, Zhanna, and Larisa admired it.

When I graduated from school, my parents created all the necessary conditions for me to enter a higher educational institution. Even so, my mother would wake up at dawn to feed silkworms with mulberry leaves and milk the cow, ensuring that we never faced financial hardship.

My mother possessed an innate artistic talent. She sang songs and played the frame drum. This trait passed on to me as well. Her support played a significant role in my study of folklore and oral literature. Eventually, I achieved the status of a teacher and became a teacher of Mother Tongue and Literature.

Until this competition was announced, I had never written an article about my mother. Now that I reflect on it, I realize that all my achievements are the result of my mother’s tireless labor. There is wisdom in every word she speaks and meaning in every task she performs. Even when she was extremely busy, she would neatly braid my hair by the edge of the field.

Today, I am a mother myself. My mother is alive, praise be to God, and has performed the pilgrimage, yet I still seek her advice and take her as my role model. From her, I learned love, patience, diligence, and deep affection for children.

Poem

My dear mother, you are my life, my whole world,

The precious soul who brought me into this world.

With you, my world is bright and full of light,

My honored mother, Safiyakhon.

Your advice is as valuable as gold,

Your prayers are filled with wisdom untold.

Your very presence is my greatest wealth,

My honored mother, Safiyakhon.

My Migrant Father

Though labor weighs him down with strain,

He says, “If it is honest, that’s my gain.”

He lives afar, a migrant far from home,

To build our house, through foreign lands to roam.

When thoughts of family fill his mind,

Longing grips his heart, so cruel, unkind.

Like pearls, his tears fall from his eyes,

Adorning sorrow no one ever spies.

“Daddy, when will you return?” they pray,

His children wait and hope each day.

Too late they learn his worth so true,

Their hearts now ache with deep regret anew.

Your sweetest tea has lost its taste,

Your earned-up money feels like waste.

This splendid house, so rich, so grand,

Without a father—no builder’s hand.

Gulsevar Mirzamahmudova was born on May 12, 2009, in Eskiarab village, Oltiariq District of Fergana Region. She is currently an 11th-grade student of Class 11B at General Secondary School No. 23. She is a holder of the National Certificate in Uzbek Language and Literature.

My Unfulfilled Dream

At dusk one evening came the dreadful news,

In one short moment, hearts were torn and bruised.

My hands and feet began to shake with fear,

My eyes would not rest—pain drew ever near.

A passing soul, now turned into my grief,

A dream unfinished, no hope of relief.

Who is the star now shining in my sky?

Who fills my home where warmth once wandered by?

Who will embrace and whisper, “grandchild dear,”

And hold them close with love so pure and clear?

No longer markets—now the grave I seek,

No longer you—I hug the stones so bleak.

Whom shall I call my grandfather once more?

In this brief world, you are my deepest sore.

I failed to call, not even once in time,

I could not serve you—this remains my crime.

Your tearful eyes I caused without a word,

This single thought has crushed my soul unheard.

I never spoke a final gentle line,

Perhaps I thought that moment wasn’t mine.

I did not hug you, did not say goodbye,

My last true words remain unsaid, a sigh.

In truth, I thought of only me alone,

Today I’m weak, unworthy, overthrown.

One final plea I ask of you, my guide:

Please forgive me—be content inside.

Childhood

I took a pen and paper in my hand,

And wandered through the moments time had planned.

Sweet innocence, so pure and free from care,

A playful youth with laughter in the air.

Mischief-filled hours, joyful and unbound,

Those lively days where endless smiles were found.

In truth, childhood was a kingdom grand,

Where every wish obeyed the heart’s command.

Dildoraxon Turgʻunboyeva is a fourth-year student in the Preschool Education program at the Faculty of Pedagogy and Psychology of Kokand State University.

Book 

The book was braver than I was ,

It spoke when I chose to stay silent .

I held my quiet deep inside ,

While my heart spilled across its pages.

They asked me, Why were you crying ?

I smiled and hid the truth away .

I was just reading a book I said ,

And let my secret gently stay .

Some pain can’t fıt into words ,

It lives where voices disappear.

But books are never truly silent ,

They know the tears we never share.

Munavvar Tlewbaeva was born on June 6, 2005, in Chimboy District of the Republic of Karakalpakstan. She graduated from the academic lyceum of NMPI with a specialization in social and humanitarian sciences. Currently, she is a third-year student at the Chimboy Faculty of Berdakh Karakalpak State University, majoring in Philology and Language Teaching (Karakalpak language).

She is fluent in Karakalpak, Uzbek, and Turkish. She has a strong interest in creative writing, enjoys writing poems and short stories, and is actively engaged in translation.