“The room wasn’t fit for the pigs,” she said, “and ought to have been cleaned, but somehow nobody took any interest in school this summer, and I’d have to make it answer.”
I didn’t care particularly for the room, which, in truth, was dirty and disagreeable enough, but the words “nobody took any interest this summer,” affected me unpleasantly, for in them I saw a dim foreshadowing of all that ensued. Father, who was in a hurry, soon left me, bidding me “be a good girl, and not get to romping with the scholars.” From the window I watched him until he disappeared over the sandy hill, half wishing, though I would not then confess it, that I and the little trunk were with him. I was roused from my reverie by Mrs. Randall, who, for some time, had been looking inquisitively at me, and who now said, “Ain’t you but thirteen?”
“No, ma’am,” I answered.
“Wall,” she returned, “it beats all how much older you look. I should s’pose you was full sixteen, if not more. But it’s all in your favor, and I guess you’ll be more likely to suit the deestrict, though they’re afraid you haven’t any government, and they’re terrible hard to suit. So, if I’s you,” she continued, “I’d hold a pretty tight rein at first. I give you full liberty to whip my young ones if they don’t behave. They know better than to complain at home.”
Involuntarily I glanced at the clump of alders which grew near the house, and if they were somewhat diminished ere my reign was o’er, the “Deestrict” owed it to Mrs. Randall’s suggestion. After sitting awhile, she arose to go, telling me “she should expect me at night,” and then I was alone. I looked at my watch; it was half-past eight, and not a scholar yet. This was widely different from Meadow Brook, where, by seven, the house was generally filled with children, hallooing, quarrelling over seats, and watching eagerly for the first sight of “the new schoolma’am.” Here the tables were turned, and “the schoolma’am” was watching for her scholars!
Suddenly a large bumble-bee came buzzing in, and alighted on a window opposite. Like Sir Thomas the Good, in the Ingoldsby Legends, I have a passion for capturing insects, especially whitefaced bumble-bees, and now I felt strongly inclined to mount the desks in pursuit of the intruder, but the thought “What if the scholars should detect me?” prevented, and, to this day, I have never known whether that bumble-bee had a white face, or belonged to the class of colored brethren! Ten minutes of nine, and I began to grow fidgety. I should have been more so, had I known how much is sometimes said about teachers not keeping their hours. Five minutes of nine, and round the corner at the foot of the hill appeared a group of children, while from another direction came others, shouting for those in advance to “wait,” which they did, and the whole entered the house together. A few of the girls made a slight obeisance, while the boys laughed, and throwing down their books in a very consequential manner, looked distrustfully at me. My age had preceded me, and in many of these childish hearts there was already a spirit of rebellion.
Here I would speak against the impropriety of discussing a teacher’s faults in the presence of pupils, who will discover them soon enough. Many a teacher starts disadvantageously because of some idle tale, which may or may not be true, but which, borne on the wings of gossip, reaches its place of destination, and is there thoughtlessly canvassed in the hearing of children, who thus become prejudiced against a person they have never seen, and whom they otherwise might have liked. In my case, the fault was my age, which had evidently been discussed in the neighborhood; for, on opening my desk, I found inscribed upon the lid, in a bold schoolboy style, “Rosa Lee, aged 13,” to which was appended, in a more delicate hand, “Ancient—very!”
Taking my India-rubber, I erased it while my scholars were settling the matter of seats, which, strange to say they did without disputing. Then there ensued a perfect silence, and the eyes of all present turned inquiringly upon me, while, with sundry flourishes with my silver pencil, I proceeded to take down upon a big sheet of foolscap the names, ages, and “what studies do you intend to pursue?” of my pupils. After much talking and arranging, the school was organized; but the first morning dragged heavily, and when 12 o’clock came, and I drew from my sachel the nice ginger snaps which mother had made, the sight of them, or the taste, or something else, choked me so much that I was obliged to wink hard, and count the rows of trees in the orchard opposite twice, ere I could answer the question addressed to me by one of the little girls.
In the rear of the house was a long strip of dense woods, and wishing to be alone and out of sight of the sports in which I felt I must not join, I took my bonnet and wandered thither. Seating myself upon a mossy log, I tried to fancy that I was at home beneath the dear old grape-vine, the faintest rustle of whose broad green leaves would, at that moment, have been to me like the sweetest music. But it could not be. I was a schoolmistress—Miss Lee, they called me, and on my brow the shadows of life were thus early making their impress. Slowly to me dragged the hour which always before had been so short, and when at last I took my way back to school, it seemed that in that short space I had lived an age. Often since, when I have looked upon young teachers hastening to their task, I’ve pitied them, for I knew full well how long and wearisome would be their first day’s labor.
As I approached the schoolhouse I saw that something was the matter, for the scholars were greatly excited, and with voices raised to the highest pitch, were discussing something of importance. Thinking that my presence would perhaps restrain them from such noisy demonstration$, I hastened forward, but the babel rather increased than diminished, and it was with difficulty that I could learn the cause of the commotion. George Randall was crying, while a little apart from him stood two boys, one of them apparently fourteen and the other twelve. They were strangers to me and instinctively I felt that they were in some way connected with the disturbance; and that the larger and more important looking was John Thompson, a surmise which proved to be correct.