Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 261, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 31 October 1912 — PROBLEM OF PICKLES [ARTICLE]

PROBLEM OF PICKLES

iHow Careful Teaching Brought Student to Front

By G. A. TURKINGTON.

It was the first day of the fall term and Bethel’s village high school was filled even to the front row. The chairman of the school committee entered for a moment after the opening exercises, surveyed the scholars hurriedly, and as he left remarked in an undertone to the new teacher that she must not be bothered by that boy in the corner front seat “He can’t learn, you know. We put him in this room just because he seemed to fit these seats better than those in the lower grades. He comes from a gpod-for-nothing family about five miles out. He isn’t really bright, or be would have learned something by this time,” and he tapped his forehead significantly. “Just give him books and let him alone. Guess that will be the best way.” And the chairman smiled himself out of the room. Pickles’ attention was divided that first morning between gazing dreamily at a United States history lying open before him, and at Miss Stone, who to him was a person from another world. Indeed, Bethel itself had not had so trim and dainty a “high school" teacher for many years as was this girl just out of college. When she became aware that two large brown eyes were studying her intently she turned upon Pickles a smiling look of interest She wondered that such thoughtful eyes should belong to a boy who was mentally deficient. j Pickles was conscious of the smile, but looked around to see for whom it was intended. When he realized that the pretty teacher had smiled at him, as she had at the other boys and girls, he met her eyes in surprise, while a deep red flush crept slowly to his cheeks. And as the late afternoon sun fell across the schoolroom and played upon his desk a warm glow stole into his heart. That afternoon on his -way home from school, after the first mile, he left the road and walked along by the brook, for its babbling and gurgling kept him company. He often followed this brook for miles on hot summer days and again in the spring when it was loud and noisy with the melted snows. He had never had a playfellow and scarcely ever talked to any one. His .blind old grandfather, whose mind and body failed a little week by week, only occasionally talked to him now of the “ba-ars” thatpsed to come in the pasture. It was a familiar sight to the neighmors, as they rode to the village, to see Pickles, ragged and dirty, seated on a mossy stone gazing intently at the water as it gurgled and sparkled past him to the valley below. At the end of the first month of the fall term Bethel had awakened to the fact that pretty Miss Stone was an unusual person. She ruled her little school with a smiling firmness that had surprised pupils and parents alike, and Bhe had seemingly disregarded the committeeman’s injunction to “let Pickles alone.” On the second day she had called on hip to recite his history, and as the room tittered hysterically, she had turned upon them with blazing eyes and so stern a rebuke that they were shamed .into silence. She had observed that Pickles never brought a dinner pail, so she decided to eat her lunch at the school room and send Pickles to her boarding place for it. This gave her the excuse she wished to repay him with a share of her ample warm lunch, and to talk with him about his lessons. She had made up her mind that Pickleß was her mission in Bethel, and that nothing Bhould prevent her from proving that the boy was not really stupid—only neglected and- underfed. Pickleß had days when neither his mother nor Miss Stone could hold him to his school -work; days when he would leave everything and ramble off to follow the brooks.’ Nevertheless, task after task he mastered, so that Miss Stone finally ceased to be surprised when he knew his geography or history lesson. She refrained from calling on him to recite often, Cor at those times he seemed wholly overcome with embarrassment. But his papers became more nearly correct and neat. It was evident that in preceding years, when he had seemed to be gazing emptily at hiß books, he had actually learned much of their contents. It was customary in Bethel at the end of the spring term to hold general school exercises, which included the graduation of the senior class and the promotion of the pupils in the other classes. v When it became certain ( that Pickles had a mind and was trying to apply it as he had never been expected to before, Miss Stone made a resolve. Piqkles- should be promoted. Ax week before the day of gradution, school was dismissed early and the five members of the school committee met in Miss Stone’s room to sign the diplomas of graduation and the certificates of promotion. With the formality of a few questions and answers the diplomas of graduation were all duly signed, and the ink was drying on the first certificates when Mr. Brown, halted at the names of James McCloskey. “James McCloskey„” he questioned, “I don’t remember any such boy In this school.” “Perhaps not by that name,” and Miss Stone colored and hesitated slightly. “The boys—and perhaps some who are not boys—call htfa .Pfdktes, but this is the name by which you should know him, of course.” Mr. Brown paused with his pen in as if in doubt, then blurted,

“Why—why, he can’t be promoted. If he has outgrown C, class seats you can, of course, put him In another! row, but to promote him—and with credit- —is out of the question.” And he blew his nose loudly. “Yes, why, echoed the other astonished members of the committee. “Gentlemen,” and Miss Stone’s voice was hard and determined, although her face was flushed and pretty, “you have been pleased with my work; at least you have said so, and have asked me to return” for another year. 1 shall not return if you are to interfere In this way with my work. You doubt my word. I report that this poor negleoted boy has done creditably and deserves promotion. You and your boys and girls have made it as hard as possible for Pickles. I, alone, have tried to give him a chance. I have given evenings and Saturdays to helping him, and he has worked harder than any other pupil.” There was dead silence for a moment. ‘‘May we see his marks?” asked Mr. Brown, haughtily. In anticipation of this request, Miss Stone had ready her record book, which she placed before him. “Um-ah, his average in arithmetic is only 65, and only 70 in the other studies. Your pass mark is 70?” ... “Yes, but in recommending him for a diploma, I have had to take into consideration his handicap and the neglect of previous teachers, just as I had to take into account your son’s illness, Mr. Brown. , Mr. Brown refrained from asking what his son’s average in arithmetic had been, and suggested that Miss Stone withdraw a few moments while he and the other members of the committee consulted about this somewhat extraordinary proceeding. Miss Stone, excited and indignant almost to the point of tears, withdrew as requested, and listened with a half contemptuous smile to the low-toned discussion behind her. She was recalled after a few minutes and the work of signing the remainder of the certificates of promotion was resumed without further mention of James McCloskey. Mr. Brown lingered behind the other members of the committee and said conciliatingly that they didn’t see how Pickles could be promoted with so mark. If Miss Stone wanted to give him a special examination which he should pass, he would, of course, be glad to sign the paper. The next morning Miss Stone quietly laid a paper on Pickles’ desk saying that she would like to have him work out the examples and hand them to her at recess time. “If you have any trouble, let me know,” and she smiled at him encouragingly. But he had no trouble. He always did his best work when no special pressure was brought to bear on him, and this morning every one else was busy, and he worked along unconcernedly until the recess bell rang. Miss Stone hardly dared look at the paper, so afraid was she that the boy had blundered. She was thinking now as much of the mother as she was of Pickles. Example after example she checked off —seven, eight, nine. The tenth one was unfinished, but nine were correct —and Pickles passed with a ninety mark. She stopped him that night. “Tell your mother you are going to be promoted and I want her to come- 1 with you to the exercises,” was the message she gave to the astounded boy. She watched him from the window as he turned off up the hill, then took the exartiination paper and the unsigned certificate, and in a few minutes was in Mr. Brown’s stqre. “Here is James McCloskey’s examination paper, and here is the certificate. I have inserted the words ‘with credit,’ and all that it needed is your signature." “Urn, ah —yes. Oh, yes, Indeed,” said the surprised and embarrassed Mr. Brown. With many flourishes he signed the certificate, and as he returned it he remarked: “You are a very fihe teacher, Miss Stone. I am —ah —very much pleased that you are going to return next year.” And he gaye her a genuine look of admiration as he held open the door for her to pass out. Ten minutes later she flung herself on the feather bed in her modest front room sanctum and wept tired, nervous tears at ber first hard-won victory. (Copyright, 1912, by the McClure Newspaper Syndicate.)