Joyce Dingwell by Wife to Sim

Author:Wife to Sim [HR-1657, MB-643] (v0.9) (epub)
Language: eng
Format: epub

Randy had let it be known that the schoolroom doors would open in the morning, and that any child who wanted to come would be welcomed. There was no rule to make them come, she told the parents, it was just if they so wished. She urged the parents not to force them if they were disinclined. Randy knew by now how one unwilling scholar can upset the entire classroom.

She had expected a fair roll call, if only out of curiosity, but she had not expected every pic belonging to the station. Behind them their parents, as eager as their little ones. Randy let the parents look around, remark eagerly on the desks and chairs, paper and pencils, then gently edged them out again. They went well satisfied, talking proudly with each other. Randy turned to her class.

She had never had such a class before. At several stations a stockman’s child had joined the station children, but never a host of shy brown ones like this. Their eagerness stirred her. She found herself giving of herself as she never had given before, and she had always been a dedicated teacher.

Jane and Justin did not attend, which was just as well at this initial gathering. She divided the class into age groups, started the smallest on finger painting, the in-betweens on match counting and the older ones on letters.

In no time it seemed Mrs. Fife was knocking on the door and handing in a tray, and Randy was ordering the class, for it had to be an order, to remove themselves from their desks and tables and run around outside for half an hour.

‘How is it going?' asked Mrs. Fife.

Tine, so far. I think tomorrow and the days that follow will be the judging time, though; just now it’s a novelty.’

‘You’ll be right,’ said Mrs. Fife sagaciously, ‘they’re bright enough youngsters. Of course, like with all kiddies, there’ll be the not-so-keens.'

‘Don’t you believe it, dear, they’ve been hanging round all the morning. Anyway, you’re better without them.’

‘Do you ever think, Mrs. Fife, that that’s their trouble, that everyone is better without them?’

Mrs. Fife looked surprised but thoughtful. After a while she said, ‘I’m not one for this psychology stuff or whatever it is. I really mean, dear, I don’t understand it.’

‘But you understand love.’ Who was she to talk like this, she who had no love, at least no love to return to—

‘Of course, dear.’

‘Yet,’ said Randy, ‘do they? Do Jane and Justin?'

‘I see what you’re after, but I’m afraid I’d be out of my depth there. Another cup, dear?’

‘No, that was lovely. I’m going to ring our bell now to bring the children in again. It would be a let-down, wouldn’t it, if they had had enough and didn’t return.'

But Randy need not have bothered about that. She started the entire class, finger painters to letter inscribers, on verse.

‘It’s called poetry,' she told them, feeling that with their keen affinity with nature and the rhythm of nature they should enjoy this.

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