Some of the names in this story have been changed for reasons that will be obvious.

Fourteen-year old Kristine lives and studies at Special School # 3 in Vanadzor. She sees her mother, who died three years ago, only in her dreams.

Kristine encountered the first frost of winter in the worn-out shoes she was given by the school. In November, the Court of First Instance of the Lori Marz had sentenced her father, G. to two years in prison. Since his wife died, his daughter had become the target of his animal instincts. "I will never forgive him," Kristine says.

Kristine has a sister two years older than she is who lives in Yerevan with her aunt. But she has heard that they are looking to sell their apartment. If that's true, Kristine will probably have to stay on at the school even after she graduates.

Kristine receives 7,500 drams a month in assistance, which she uses for notebooks and other minor expenses. She can't afford to buy clothing or shoes, so she wears whatever comes her way from the school or from donation by humanitarian organizations.

When she and her sister were together they got a larger allowance, but it was cut, the girls were told, because they hadn't renewed the proper papers in time. "Now my aunt wants to organize the papers," Kristine says. Both of her aunts-her mother's sister and her father's sister-visit Kristine, but they have problems of their own.

Kristine thinks about her mother all the time. Her timid eyes grow warm as she remembers her. "She was very caring, kind. My father was always fighting with my mother, he beat her so much that she died of cancer."

Kristine doesn't know how her life will turn out. "I haven't decided yet what I'm going to do," she says matter-of-factly. "My friend decided to become a nurse. As for me? I don't know. I have no dreams."

Judge Hovhanisyan of the Lori Marz Court of First Instance in Vanadzor differentiates what happened to Kristine from his other cases in terms of its severity. The court found that Kristine's father, who had a prior conviction, "had had systematic sexual relations with his underage daughter, Kristine born in 1989, between May 2002 and May 2004."

G. maintained he was innocent throughout both the investigation and the trial, but from the testimonies of Kristine, her sister, A., a witness in the case, and Karen Darakeshishyan, the director of Special School #3 and Kristine's legal representative, and other evidence, the court found that "G. has committed a crime by entering into sexual relationship with a person who had not reached the age of 16," and sentenced him to two years in prison in accordance with Article 141 of the Criminal Code of Armenia.

Judge Hovhanisyan told us that G's sentence was the maximum term envisaged by the law for such crimes. Kristine was placed in the care of the state through its representative, Karen Darakeshishyan.

"It is time to discuss this publicly," the director says firmly. Others at the school want to keep Kristine's story secret, and Darakeshishyan himself has agreed to provide us with information only after he was assured that we would not publish the girl's real name. He believes that otherwise, older students may try to "take advantage" of her.

"I categorically forbid discussion of this at the school," Darakeshishyan says, "although I also think it is necessary to have a public discussion of some issues related to minors." He believes that what happened to Kristine is a manifestation of a general moral and educational decline.

We found out that Kristine and her sister attended the school even before their mother died. "She was a very caring woman, but she died unexpectedly, "the director says. "When she was alive the children slept at the school and only went home on weekends. Their mother sold herbs at the market and barely made ends meet. She came to the school every day to see her daughters."

Kristine's older sister is still enrolled at the school, although she no longer attends. The director holds out hope that he will be able to persuade the 16-year-old to come back. "She will only be comfortable among her peers," he explains.

Darekeshishyan tells us that about 70 % of the 355 students at the special school are from needy or troubled families. "The school is mainly for visually impaired children and those who are deprived of their parents' care. We also have children with chronic illnesses," he says.

He is surprised at the opinion, voiced more often lately, that there is no need for special schools anymore, and that sick and disabled children should be "integrated" into public schools. "Our society is not ready for steps like that yet. The presence of a sick child will pressure others. Besides, the conditions of the buildings are not appropriate for such a step," he says.

"For many students, the school has become their home," Darakeshishyan says, emphasizing that 92 students sleep at the school, and 32 of them stay at the school on the weekends and holidays. Two students are orphans, and 27 have only one parent. 35 have been abandoned by both parents, and 165 by either their father or their mother. "These are numbers that explain a lot about life today," the director concludes.

Anush Sargsyan 
Vanadzor