Democratic Sentinel, Volume 8, Number 8, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 March 1884 — HE BROKE UP THE SCHOOL. [ARTICLE]

HE BROKE UP THE SCHOOL.

“That is the new schoolhouse, is it?” inquired Miss Alice Ray, the “new teacher,” as the farmer’s plodding little team passed by a little white house standing endwise to the road, inclosed in a rather dilapidated fence. “Yes, that’s where you’ll hold forth,” remarked Uncle Zeke Woodburn, “but I’m afeered you won’t hold out long, fur we’ve got the toughest set of boys in the State,” and Uncle Zeke gave a kind of cackling little laugh as he thought of the timid, demure little damsel at his side controlling the boys of Bear Creek School. “But don’t the directors expel them when they are beyond the control of the teacher?” asked Alice, her heart beginning to sink at the prospect before her. “Expel ’em! no, we never expel nobody ; if a teacher can’t boss the school we just let it boss him; it ain’t our fight, an’ the school here generally bosses the teacher, and thar’s been some pretty good men licked in that schoolhouse by the boys. “I did not know the school was so unruly, ” said poor Alice, wishing heartily that she had hired out as a washerwoman instead of trying to teach the savages of Bear Creek. “Oh, well, mebbe it won’t be so bad this winter; thar’s Jim Turner, he’s one of thelongest of ’em; he’ll be 21 in a month, and you’ll get rid of him; but thar’s the Brindley boys, they’re mighty nigh as bad.” Poor Alice listened with a sinking heart. The cold, hard duties before her were dreary enough at best; but to go alone and unknown into a strange neighborhood to teach her first school, and to be met at the outset by such dark prophecies, made her feel homeless indeed. She was naturally a timid, shrinking little thing, and if she had possessed anywhere on the whole broad earth a roof to shelter her she would have turned back from Bear Creek school even then. But she had no home. Her mother had died when she was but 14, and she had kept house for her father two years, when he died, leaving her alone. Before he died he advised her to expend the little sum he would be able to leave her in fitting herself for a teacher, and Alice had fulfilled his directions so literally that when she had completed her course of study at the normal school she had hardly $lO left, and when she paid Uncle Zeke for hauling her and her little trunk from the nearest railroad town to the district where she was to teach, she had but $5 left. On Monday morning as she started dor the schoolhouse she felt as if she was going to the scaffold. Her course ■of pedagogics in the normal institute had included no such problem as this

school promised to be, and if it were not for very, shame she would have given her single $5 bill to any one to take her back to the railroad and pay her fare to L., the town where she had attended school. When she arrived at the schoolhouse about twenty or thirty pupils were grouped around talking, but a spell of silence fell upon them as she walked up and saluted them with a “good morning” which was more like the chirp of a frightene<Lbird than anything else. As she unlocked the door and entered what she had already begun to regard as a chamber of torture, two or three slowly followed her into the room, and, depositing their books upon the whittled desks, took seats, and fixed their eyes upon her with a stare that did not help to strengthen her nerves. All the rules and regulations of her “Theory and Practice of Opening Schools Upbn the First Day” seemed to vanish and leave her head whirling in dizzy helplessness. She tried to think of some cheerful remark, but her brain refused to form the thought and her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth. She could see in the faces of he? pupils, most of whom were now in the school-room, that they were aware of her fright and enjoyed it thoroughly. By a strong effort she partially recovered herself and bravely resisted the temptation to lean her head on the desk and have a good cry. She felt that she must do something or faint, so she rang bell, though it lacked fifteen minutes to 9. She began taking down the names and ages of her pupils, and by the time this was completed she began to feel more at ease. She then began examining the pupils in the different branches in order to assign them to their proper classes. She had finished the examination in all the branches except the advanced reading class, which was principally composed of grown girls and young men, among whom was the terrible Jim Turner, of whom she had been warned. Several of the members of the class had read, and it was now the turn of Moses Bradley, a huge, heavy-set fel-

low, with small, malicious eyes and a general air of ruffianism. * When he was called upon to read he did not rise from his seat, but began to read in a thick, indistinct voice from a book hidden in his lap. “Mr. Bradley, will you please stand up when you read?” asked Alice. “I can read just as well settin’ down,” replied the fellow with a dogged air. “But it is one of the rules in a reading class to stand up to read,” said Alice, her heart quaking with fear as she foresaw the incipient rebellion. “I reckon you will hawe to make a new rule for me then,” impudently answered Mose, glancing sideways at his companions with a grin of triumph. “If you do not obey me I shall be obliged to punish you,” said Alice, bravely, though she could scarcely stand up. “I guess all the punishment you could do wouldn’t break any of my bones,” replied the ruffian, leering at her impudently. “But I can break your bones for you in half a minute, and I’ll do it if you don’t stand up and read as the teacher asked you to,” said a voice at the other end of the class, and Alice looked in the direction and saw Jim Turner step from the class and Lee the astonished Mose. Mose’s insolent manner abated in an instant, his face turned pale, and he muttered something about not being “bossed by other boys, ” but he stood up as he was commanded.

Alice could have kissed her young champion for very gratitude, but she mustered all the dignity she could command, and said: "Mr. Turner, I cannot allow you to interfere in the management of my school; take your seat.” The youth obeyed without a word, but kept his eye on Mose, as if watching for any delinquency. After this little episode the exercises proceeded without interruption till noon. Alice had no appetite for dinner. She leaned her throbbing head upon the desk and wondered wearily how long she could endure this. She was aroused by one of the little girls running up to her, exclaiming: “Teacher, teacher, the big boys are fighting!” She followed the child, exclaiming: “Oh, why did I ever come into such a den of wild beasts ?” At the rear of the schoolhouse stood Jim Turner engaged in a hand-to-hand combat with Mose Bradley and his two brothers, both of whom were grown. As Alice stepped around the cornet Jim sent Mose reeling to the earth, ana then turned like a lion upon his two remaining assailants. They rushed at him from two sides, but Jim was as active as a panther, and Bill Bradley fell as if shot, from a left-handed .blow, and his brother Tom followed hfn in an instant. By this time Mose had secured a ball bat and rushed upon Jim, ’ but the latter evaded the blow, and, wrenching the bat from his hand, knocked Mose headlong with a blow of his fist. As the discomfited trio arose Jim laughed lightly and asked them “how they liked it as far as they had got,” picked the bat he had taken from Mose, and called out, “Come on, boys, let’s have a game of ball.” The combat ended so quickly that Alice had no chance to interfere, but she felt that it would not do to let this open violation of school rules pass unpunished, so she rang the bell. When tire pupils were assembled she called the culprits up to the desk, and asked what the fight was about and who began it. The Bradleys stood sullen and silent, but Jim answered, “I would rather not tell what it was about, but I began it by knocking Mose Bradley down.” Alice knew the fight was the result of Jim’s espousal of her cause in the reading class, and her voice faltered as she said: “Then I shall have to punish you; hold out your hand.” Jim obeyed her instantly. She took up the ruler with a trembling hand and began the punishment. Jim’s face never changed a muscle. The look upon it was one of quiet obedience in which there was no trace of either bravado or sullenness. As Alice inflicted the blows upon the hand so quietly held out to her, the thought rushed upon her mind that she was smiting the only hand that had been raised to befriend her in that lawless region.

Her face grew pale, the blows fell falteringly, the tears began to rim down her cheeks, the ruler fell from her hand, she sank into her seat, buried her face in her hands, and burst into a storm of sobs. Then Jiin’s countenance changed. His lip quivered, he dashed his hand across his eyes to clear them of unnatural dimness, and the great lump in his throat seemed to choke him. A chuckle from Mose Bradley recalled his self-possession, however, and he took a step or two toward the latter with eyes that fairly blazed with hot indignation. Mose rapidly retreated a step or two, and his chuckle died an untimely death, and for-, a full minute silence reigned over tiie school-room.' At last Alice raised her head and in a broken voice dismissed the pupils to the playground. As the children passed out she heard some say, “So you got a whipping after all, Jim,” and Jipi’s reply, “Yes, and I got enough to pass some of it around if anybody is anxious about it.” At 1 o’clock Alice rang the bell with a feeling of utter dospafr; but no school ever moved more smoothly than did her school that afternoon. Quiet obedience, study, good lessons, and respectful attention were universal. But Alice had determined to quit the school; she felt as if she would rather be the poorest washerwoman than to be badgered, bullied, and tortured for months at a time by a set of brutal nifiians, whose parents employed her for the sole purpose of enduring this martyrdom. So when Alice locked the schoolhouse door that evening it was with a mingled feeling of relief and humiliation that she started toeoffer her resignation to the directors. As she left the schoolhouse she saw Jim Turner a few yards ahead ojf her, walking rapidly toward homq. she called his name, and he stopbed and respectfully waited until she had overtaken him. “Mr. Turner,” she said, “I am going

away in the morning, and I wish to thank you for your brave defense of me in the school to-day, and to ask your forgiveness for the punishment I so unjustly inflicted on you,” and in her earnestness Alice held out her little, trembling hand, and Jim instantly grasped it. “I have nothing to forgive,” said he; “you could not do otherwise, and neither could I; but you are surely not intending to quit the school ?” “Yes.” answered Alice, “I would rather die than pass through tliree months of such scenes as I have today.” “But you will have no more trouble; there is no one in the school that would give you trouble, except the Bradley boys, and as long as I am there I will answer for their good behavior.” At last Jim’s eloquence prevailed, and Alice finally consented to teach a week longer, and at the end of that time she decided to stay, for never did a school move along more smoothly. At her request Jim was allowed to remain during the term, and as soon as it closed he went to college. Alice taught the Bear Creek school successfully for three years, but in the end Uncle Zeke’s prediction was verified, for Jim Turner came back and broke up the school. He married the teacher.