"It gives us great pride to see Ukrainian studies taught on the highest level at Harvard University," Baziuk says. "It's very exciting to have your culture taught legitimately at Harvard like French or Italian."

Many students, organizers say, are drawn to the Institute in the summer because of the Harvard location and name. This helps explain why 30 percent of the program's enrollment does not come from a Ukrainian background. Many of these students major in Soviet studies.

Another attraction is the program's minimal cost. Tuition for eight credits, or two courses, is only $200. The summer program is subsidized by a $25,000 grant from the Ukrainian Studies Fund, a multi-million-dollar community chest for higher education.

But the biggest draw, students say, is an over-whelming obligation to learn about the Ukrainian heritage and perpetuate it. Many students say they believe they owe that to their Ukrainian ancestors who endured tremendous oppression throughout the last three centuries.

After the Ukraine was absorbed into the Russian Empire in the late 18th century, successive Tsars repeatedly suppressed the nationalist natives. The Tsar's attempts to Russify Ukraine reached its zenith in 1876 when the Tsar issued the Ems Ukaz, which banned all publishing in Ukrainian. Ironically the Harvard building which houses the Ukrainian Institute was built in that year.

Following the collapse of the Russian Empire and the ensuing Bolshevik revolution, Ukraine was carved up among the Soviet Union. Poland, Romania and Czechoslovakia. While the Poles and Romanians repressed their Ukrainian populations, persecution was even worse in the Soviet-controlled eastern portion.

Many historians believe that Stalin engineered a famine in 1933 in an attempt to break the back-bone of the nationalist-minded Ukrainian peasantry, causing the death of seven million villagers. Despite a relatively normal harvest in Ukraine--considered the Soviet Union's bread-basket--Soviet officials ignored signs of mass starvation, scholars say, requiring nearly all foodstuffs to be exported outside of the republic.

Ukrainians say attempts by their brethren to preserve their culture within the republic have continued to founder since Ukraine fell under Soviet dominance after World War II, making efforts such as the one at Harvard much more significant.

"We have a special responsibility when you know that if you do nothing our culture will not stay the same, but will be eradicated," says Baziuk.

"We have a responsibility to carry on a tradition and a heritage, which our forefathers fought really hard for," adds Katherine Fontaine, a Ukrainian American student at the University of Minneapolis. "If we didn't learn the language and keep up the Ukrainian heritage, then we would be traitors to our forefathers."

To help preserve the Ukrainian culture, the Institute deliberately makes its program very intensive. For the first time this year, the program required that all students be at least 19 years of age or have completed one year of college. Several years ago the program was extended from four to eight weeks. Both decisions have led enrollment to drop to 52 from around 150, which officials say they are pleased with. Officials point to the increased attention from faculty that each student receives with the smaller program.

The courses offered are rigorous, ranging from "Religious Issues in Ukrainian History to 1700" to one on Ukrainian literature, focusing on such late 19th century authors as Taras Shevchenko, Ivan Franko and Lesya Ukrainka.

Many students add that a significant portion of their Ukrainian education comes from their classmates. Grouped together in Mather House, they say they are discovering other Ukrainians share similar concerns about their heritage as them.

"We see other Ukrainian people who have all the same worries and concerns as us," says Lechman. "You no longer feel like the lone Ukrainian in the world."