Read Online Under the Same Blue Sky by Pamela Schoenewaldt - Free Book Online
Authors: Pamela Schoenewaldt
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begun attending church. Parents smiled and nodded as we gathered for coffee after services. Some children shyly asked if I was strict, if I switched “the bad ones,” how long they’d have for recess, what we’d do for the Christmas program, and if I could teach them how to draw, for word had spread that I could do this.
Several mothers politely said they’d heard from Mrs. Ashton that Susanna enjoyed her lessons. Judge Ashton, always formal in a wool jacket and waistcoat despite the heat, pulled me aside to admit that he’d tested Susanna and found her progressing well.
“Thank you, Judge.”
He cleared his throat. “However, please do not expose our daughter to diseases.”
“Sir?”
“I’m talking about Crazy Ben. I’ve heard he—visits at your house.” Had Henry told him this?
I bristled. “Ben Robinson has a mental condition. It’s in no way contagious.” The bushy eyebrows pulled together.
“He scratches like a dog with fleas.”
“It’s a mental condition,” I repeated, managing a wide smile as Mrs. Ashton came to remind me of the ice cream social that afternoon.
“Susanna is still too delicate for school,” she said, “but we do hope to send her soon, don’t we, Edgar?” The judge nodded, gave me a chill handshake, and moved away.
That evening I wrote home about the social and the square dance that followed. “Everyone is very nice. Come visit soon and see.” I’d asked Henry once again when the house would be painted. My parents would be troubled by the dreary, bare siding. Of course, I could buy the paint and do the work myself, but why? My salary was small, and I fully intended to be Galway’s best schoolmarm. Unpainted wood rots more quickly, making more expense for the school board. Blue paint would save this expense as well as white. There was no excuse for Henry’s “We’ll see” besides stubbornness. Or else he assumed that the start of school would wash away all my thoughts of blue.
O N THE MORNING of my first school day, I rang the bell, as I’d done so often in my dreams. Twenty children marched in, fewer than I expected. The town children had new clothes and shined shoes; most of the country children were barefoot, and would be, I’d been told, until the first frost. But they were all alike in this: the friendly, open faces at the ice cream social had vanished. Now forty eyes watched me warily.Even Alice Burnett seemed cautious, as if we’d never met. Of course, what child wants summer to end? But what of the older boys’ smirks and covert signs?
I introduced myself and announced we’d start the day with nature drawing. With Ben’s help, I’d collected fantastically turned roots, stones with embedded crystals, feathers, oddly shaped branches, bird nests, and abandoned honeycombs. I set these all on a table. “Now choose a partner, pick something interesting, and draw it in your own way.”
“Miss Clay always did spelling first.” No face claimed the statement; it might have come from the walls. My crisply pressed shirtwaist grew hotter and smaller. I’d never imagined the first day like this.
Something moved in Horace Butler’s pocket. He pulled it out and tossed it on the floor. Screams filled the schoolhouse as a toad croaked and hopped across my feet. I nearly screamed myself. How could they know I had an irrational fear of toads? Don’t show it. The rest of the year depends on what you do now. I managed to corner the wildly hopping little beast, which must have had an equal fear of schoolhouses. I spread my skirt and closed the cloth around him. He was frantic now, thumping against my legs, and I was frantic to be rid of him. But I couldn’t do this yet, even if—and this was also terrible—the children were seeing my petticoat.
“Empty the water bucket and bring it here, now!” I ordered Horace and sent Charlie Davis for a piece of glass that workmen had carelessly left behind. “Now get this thing out of my skirt, put it in the
Several mothers politely said they’d heard from Mrs. Ashton that Susanna enjoyed her lessons. Judge Ashton, always formal in a wool jacket and waistcoat despite the heat, pulled me aside to admit that he’d tested Susanna and found her progressing well.
“Thank you, Judge.”
He cleared his throat. “However, please do not expose our daughter to diseases.”
“Sir?”
“I’m talking about Crazy Ben. I’ve heard he—visits at your house.” Had Henry told him this?
I bristled. “Ben Robinson has a mental condition. It’s in no way contagious.” The bushy eyebrows pulled together.
“He scratches like a dog with fleas.”
“It’s a mental condition,” I repeated, managing a wide smile as Mrs. Ashton came to remind me of the ice cream social that afternoon.
“Susanna is still too delicate for school,” she said, “but we do hope to send her soon, don’t we, Edgar?” The judge nodded, gave me a chill handshake, and moved away.
That evening I wrote home about the social and the square dance that followed. “Everyone is very nice. Come visit soon and see.” I’d asked Henry once again when the house would be painted. My parents would be troubled by the dreary, bare siding. Of course, I could buy the paint and do the work myself, but why? My salary was small, and I fully intended to be Galway’s best schoolmarm. Unpainted wood rots more quickly, making more expense for the school board. Blue paint would save this expense as well as white. There was no excuse for Henry’s “We’ll see” besides stubbornness. Or else he assumed that the start of school would wash away all my thoughts of blue.
O N THE MORNING of my first school day, I rang the bell, as I’d done so often in my dreams. Twenty children marched in, fewer than I expected. The town children had new clothes and shined shoes; most of the country children were barefoot, and would be, I’d been told, until the first frost. But they were all alike in this: the friendly, open faces at the ice cream social had vanished. Now forty eyes watched me warily.Even Alice Burnett seemed cautious, as if we’d never met. Of course, what child wants summer to end? But what of the older boys’ smirks and covert signs?
I introduced myself and announced we’d start the day with nature drawing. With Ben’s help, I’d collected fantastically turned roots, stones with embedded crystals, feathers, oddly shaped branches, bird nests, and abandoned honeycombs. I set these all on a table. “Now choose a partner, pick something interesting, and draw it in your own way.”
“Miss Clay always did spelling first.” No face claimed the statement; it might have come from the walls. My crisply pressed shirtwaist grew hotter and smaller. I’d never imagined the first day like this.
Something moved in Horace Butler’s pocket. He pulled it out and tossed it on the floor. Screams filled the schoolhouse as a toad croaked and hopped across my feet. I nearly screamed myself. How could they know I had an irrational fear of toads? Don’t show it. The rest of the year depends on what you do now. I managed to corner the wildly hopping little beast, which must have had an equal fear of schoolhouses. I spread my skirt and closed the cloth around him. He was frantic now, thumping against my legs, and I was frantic to be rid of him. But I couldn’t do this yet, even if—and this was also terrible—the children were seeing my petticoat.
“Empty the water bucket and bring it here, now!” I ordered Horace and sent Charlie Davis for a piece of glass that workmen had carelessly left behind. “Now get this thing out of my skirt, put it in the
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