“Yes. On the whole, you may wait for the bell.”
He entered the schoolhouse, and a minute later reappeared at the door ringing the bell violently.
Probably few persons are the objects of more critical attention than a new teacher, for the pupils who are to be under his charge. It is to many an embarrassment to be subjected to such close scrutiny, but Mr. Theophilus Slocum rather liked it. He had an exceedingly high opinion of himself, and fancied that others admired him as much as he admired himself. Of his superior qualifications as a teacher he entertained not the slightest doubt, and expected to “come, see and conquer.” He had taught small schools twice before, and, although his success was far from remarkable, he managed to keep the schools through to the end of the term.
Such was the teacher who had undertaken to keep the winter term of the principal school in Brookville.
Mr. Slocum took his place at the teacher’s desk, solemnly drew out a large red handkerchief, and blew a sonorous blast upon his nose, and then began to speak.{119}
“Boys and girls,” he commenced, in a nasal voice, “I have agreed to teach this school through the winter. They wanted me in two or three other places, but I preferred to come here, in order to be near my venerable relative, Deacon Slocum. I expect you to make great improvement, considering how great will be your advantages. When I was a boy I used to take right holt of my studies, and that’s the way I have rose to be a teacher.” (Significant looks were exchanged between different scholars, who were quick to detect the weakness of the speaker.) “I was not raised in this State. I come from Maine, where I graduated from one of the best academies in the State. I come out here, hoping to advance the cause of education in the West. I don’t think all the best teachers ought to stay in the East. They ought to come to the great West, like I have, to teach the young idea how to shoot. Now, boys and girls, that’s all I’ve got to say, except that I mean to be master. You needn’t try to cut up any of your pranks here, for I won’t allow it. I will form the classes, and we will begin.”
For an hour and a half the new teacher was engaged in classifying the scholars. Then came recess, and on the play ground, as may well be supposed, not a few remarks were made upon the new teacher, and his speech.
“He’s a conceited jackass,” said John Sandford. “You’d think, to hear him talk, that we had no good teachers in the West till he came.”{120}
“He’d better have stayed where he came from,” said Henry Frye. “I don’t believe they wanted him in two or three other places.”
“I wish he had gone to one of them, for my part. I wouldn’t cry much. How much better Mr. Fairbanks was!”