Read Online A Lesson Before Dying by Ernest J. Gaines - Free Book Online

“First graders, on your feet.”
    And he called on the one boy in class who I wished had stayed home today. He was without doubt the worst child in the school. He came from a large family—thirteen, fourteen, fifteen: I don’t know how many—and he had to fight for every crumb of food he got. At school he did the same. He fought if he played marbles, he fought if he played ball, he fought if he played hide-and-go-seek, he fought if he played hide-the-switch. In class he fought with those who sat in front of him, beside him, behind him. I had punished him as much during the last month as I had all the other children put together.
    Dr. Joseph asked his name, and he ran together three words even I couldn’t understand. His name was Louis Washington, Jr., but what he said didn’t sound anything like that.
    â€œYour hands,” Dr. Joseph told him.
    The hands had been cleaned an hour before, I was sure, because I had checked each pair when the students came in from dinner. But now the palms of those same hands were as black and grimy as if he had been pitching coal all day.
    â€œDid you pledge allegiance to the flag this morning?” Dr. Joseph asked him.
    â€œYazir,” he said. Not “Yes, sir,” as I had told him a hundred times to say. “Yazir.”
    â€œWell?” Dr. Joseph said.
    â€œWant me go stand outside and s’lute flag?” the boy asked.
    â€œYou don’t have to go outside,” Dr. Joseph said. “You can show me in here.”
    The boy raised his hand to his chest.
    â€œPlege legen toda flag. Ninety state. ’Merica. Er—er—yeah, which it stand. Visibly. Amen.”
    Dr. Joseph grunted. Several students giggled. Dr. Joseph seemed quite satisfied. I would have to do a lot more work.
    For the next half hour it continued. Dr. Joseph would call on someone who looked half bright, then he would call on someone whom he felt was just the opposite. In the upper grades—fourth, fifth, and sixth—he asked grammatical, mathematical, and geographical questions. And besides looking at hands, now he began inspecting teeth. Open wide, say “Ahhh”—and he would have the poor children spreading out their lips as far as they could while he peered into their mouths. At the university I had read about slave masters who had done the same when buying new slaves, and I had read of cattlemen doing it when purchasing horses and cattle. At least Dr. Joseph had graduated to the level where he let the children spread out their own lips, rather than using some kind of crude metal instrument. I appreciated his humanitarianism.
    Finally, when he felt that he had inspected enough mouths and hands, he gave the school a ten-minute lecture on nutrition. Beans were good, he said. Not only just good, but very, very good. Beans, beans, beans—he must have said beans a hundred times. Then he said fish and greens were good. And exercise was good. In other words, hard work was good for the young body. Picking cotton, gathering potatoes, pulling onions, working in the garden—all of that was good exercise for a growing boy or girl.
    â€œHiggins, I must compliment you. You have an excellent crop of students, an excellent crop, Higgins. You ought to be proud.”
    He had said the same thing the year before, and he had called me Higgins then too. And the year before that he had said the same thing, but he had called me Washington then. At least he was getting closer to my real name.
    â€œRise,” Irene called to the class.
    They came to their feet, their heads up, their arms clasped to their sides. But instead of feeling pride, I hated myself for drilling them as I had done.
    Dr. Joseph and I went down the aisle. Outside, he looked up at the flag waving on its bamboo pole in the corner of the fence. I thought for a moment the superintendent was about to salute it, but he was either too tired or too lazy to raise his hand.
    â€œDoing a