doubtful.
“It’s all right, Rabbit. Some other time. For now, I want you and Robby to work independently.” She addressed her other students. “That’s intended for all of you unless I indicate otherwise.” She lightly squeezed Robby Fox’s shoulder. “Try the first problem again, Robby. I want to watch.”
And so it went. Tru nudged and encouraged, scolded and praised. She taught each subject using methods she had studied at Chicago’s Normal School in Junction Grove, but the manner she adopted with her students was not always embraced by her own teachers. It was not that she did not appreciate the need for order, obedience, and discipline in her classroom, but that she had an equal appreciation for the need for free thinking, for learning through one’s own experience, and for feeding the mind, body, and soul of a child.
It was just that sort of free thinking that kept her from getting a position after graduation. In interview after interview, she was turned away for being, well, not quite right. She considered being less than frank when asked about her views, but she was never quite able to articulate what every superintendent and principal wanted to hear.
She never doubted that her father understood her disappointment, but as much as he professed to want her to succeed, she also knew he was content with the situation as it was. Keeping her close was reason enough to pray for her failure.
Tru tried not to judge him harshly for that, and she did not regret a single day that she spent caring for him before he died. Looking back, she was not even sure that she had been prepared to forgo her responsibilities with his ministry to take a position that would demand equal time. When he fell ill, it seemed that all the right choices had been made, and now that she had the position in Bitter Springs, it was easier to make peace with them.
She still missed him though. At times, desperately.
“Miss Morrow?”
Tru brought herself to the present. She blinked in quick succession to stay the wash of tears before turning away from the map. She rested the tip of her pointer on the edge of her desk. “Yes, Priscilla? What is it?”
“My mother said I should ask to be excused early today.”
“How early?”
“One hour before the usual.”
Tru checked the watch she wore on a black grosgrain fob above her heart. The watch was hers, but the ribbon fob had belonged to her father. She would have to replace it someday—it was fraying at the edges—but not just yet.
“You are already twenty minutes late.”
Priscilla sighed and closed her book. “I hoped it was more.”
Tru could sympathize with the girl’s reluctance. It was true that Priscilla sometimes tripped over her own feet because she had her nose so high in the air, but she was an earnest student and genuinely enjoyed attending school. The Taylors took in laundry and operated a bathhouse, and for whatever reason, Tuesdays were busier than other days of the week. If Priscilla was going to ask to be excused before the rest of the class, it was going to happen on a Tuesday.
“Would you like to take a book with you, Priscilla?” she asked.
Priscilla’s eyes widened. “Could I? I’d be ever so careful with it.”
“I wouldn’t have offered if I thought otherwise.” Tru went to the bookcase and ran her finger along the middle shelf. She passed over the moralizing works of Edward Lear’s
A Book of Nonsense
and John Ruskin’s
The King of the Golden River
and chose instead
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
.
She carried it to Priscilla and placed it firmly in the girl’s hands. “You will find this challenging and much too long to read in one evening. Bring it back tomorrow, and we’ll talk about what you’ve read. Once you’ve read it all, I will expect you to write a letter to Mrs. Coltrane thanking her for providing our school with such fine books.”
Priscilla nodded eagerly and tucked the book under her coat before she bolted for the door.
“It’s all right, Rabbit. Some other time. For now, I want you and Robby to work independently.” She addressed her other students. “That’s intended for all of you unless I indicate otherwise.” She lightly squeezed Robby Fox’s shoulder. “Try the first problem again, Robby. I want to watch.”
And so it went. Tru nudged and encouraged, scolded and praised. She taught each subject using methods she had studied at Chicago’s Normal School in Junction Grove, but the manner she adopted with her students was not always embraced by her own teachers. It was not that she did not appreciate the need for order, obedience, and discipline in her classroom, but that she had an equal appreciation for the need for free thinking, for learning through one’s own experience, and for feeding the mind, body, and soul of a child.
It was just that sort of free thinking that kept her from getting a position after graduation. In interview after interview, she was turned away for being, well, not quite right. She considered being less than frank when asked about her views, but she was never quite able to articulate what every superintendent and principal wanted to hear.
She never doubted that her father understood her disappointment, but as much as he professed to want her to succeed, she also knew he was content with the situation as it was. Keeping her close was reason enough to pray for her failure.
Tru tried not to judge him harshly for that, and she did not regret a single day that she spent caring for him before he died. Looking back, she was not even sure that she had been prepared to forgo her responsibilities with his ministry to take a position that would demand equal time. When he fell ill, it seemed that all the right choices had been made, and now that she had the position in Bitter Springs, it was easier to make peace with them.
She still missed him though. At times, desperately.
“Miss Morrow?”
Tru brought herself to the present. She blinked in quick succession to stay the wash of tears before turning away from the map. She rested the tip of her pointer on the edge of her desk. “Yes, Priscilla? What is it?”
“My mother said I should ask to be excused early today.”
“How early?”
“One hour before the usual.”
Tru checked the watch she wore on a black grosgrain fob above her heart. The watch was hers, but the ribbon fob had belonged to her father. She would have to replace it someday—it was fraying at the edges—but not just yet.
“You are already twenty minutes late.”
Priscilla sighed and closed her book. “I hoped it was more.”
Tru could sympathize with the girl’s reluctance. It was true that Priscilla sometimes tripped over her own feet because she had her nose so high in the air, but she was an earnest student and genuinely enjoyed attending school. The Taylors took in laundry and operated a bathhouse, and for whatever reason, Tuesdays were busier than other days of the week. If Priscilla was going to ask to be excused before the rest of the class, it was going to happen on a Tuesday.
“Would you like to take a book with you, Priscilla?” she asked.
Priscilla’s eyes widened. “Could I? I’d be ever so careful with it.”
“I wouldn’t have offered if I thought otherwise.” Tru went to the bookcase and ran her finger along the middle shelf. She passed over the moralizing works of Edward Lear’s
A Book of Nonsense
and John Ruskin’s
The King of the Golden River
and chose instead
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
.
She carried it to Priscilla and placed it firmly in the girl’s hands. “You will find this challenging and much too long to read in one evening. Bring it back tomorrow, and we’ll talk about what you’ve read. Once you’ve read it all, I will expect you to write a letter to Mrs. Coltrane thanking her for providing our school with such fine books.”
Priscilla nodded eagerly and tucked the book under her coat before she bolted for the door.
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