The Secret School (3 page)

Ida winced. "Why him?"

"Like you said, Mr. Jordan's head of the school board. You'd need his permission, wouldn't you?"

Ida remained still for a moment. Then she said,
"I guess. But do you think I should even
try
being teacher?"

"You're set on trying to get to high school, aren't you?"

Ida nodded.

"And you need your exam to do it, right?"

Ida nodded again.

"Ida, your getting to high school would be a family first. But you got to keep in mind what your pa told you: If you go, we'd still need to pay for your room and board in town. And even though Felix is getting older, he's only seven. Keeping things running around here is going to be harder without you."

"I'd be home weekends."

"When the snow let you."

"Ma, it's just
now
I'm talking about. Maybe I won't tell Pa what I'm doing."

Mrs. Bidson frowned. "Not sure I like that. The point is, your chores won't ease up none even if you are the teacher. We need you pitching in here, too."

"But ... do you think I
could
do it?"

"Being teacher, now, well, it would be unusual, I guess. But most things seem so when they're new. I can't see how it would hurt you any."

"Think I'd be ... good?"

"Ida, love, though your father's keen on reading, neither of us got much schooling. Bit of writing, sums. I think you'd be good. But ... honey, it's not my world."

"I know," Ida said. Suddenly recalling that at five-thirty in the morning it would be milking time again, she said, "I better go to bed," and headed back to the loft.

"Ida!" Mrs. Bidson called after her.

Ida looked back.

"If you decide to do it, I'll give you something."

"What's that?"

"Hairpins," Mrs. Bidson said with a smile. "If you put up your hair, you'll look older."

T
HE NEXT DAY DURING
midmorning recess, Ida approached Tom. "I want to talk to you," she announced quietly. "Without another word, she headed for the pond.

"Still angry at me?" Tom asked her when he caught up.

"I wasn't, really," she said. "Just upset about school, that's all."

"Me, too. When I told my folks they were hopping mad about it. Back in Germany, before they came here, they didn't get much learning. So they really hoped I'd go on to high school. Want me to be something different than they are."

At first Ida remained quiet. Then, shyly, she said, "I was thinking over what you said, about my being the teacher."

"You could do it."

"My ma said I'd have to ask Mr. Jordan."

Tom shook his head. "Old geezer would never agree."

"I know."

Ida looked up at Tom's long face, with its almost-but-not-quite turned-up nose. He seemed serious, too, but when he pushed his hair away from his forehead—a habit of his—Ida saw a gleam in his brown eyes.

"So if we did it," he said, smiling, "it'd have to be done in ... secret. That what you're thinking?"

Ida nodded. "And that means all the rest would have to agree."

"You game to ask 'em?" Tom said.

Ida took a moment. "Yes," she whispered.

Tom grinned.

 

"We've got to plan for when Miss Fletcher goes," Ida said to the other kids as they ate their lunches of bread with jam or lard, meat slices, and apples.

"Already got my plan." Herbert laughed. "One long vacation and it starts day after tomorrow."

"You're always taking a vacation," Susie said.

Herbert flushed. "Am not! Working, that's what. My dad says there ain't no laws can force me to go to school. Unconstitutional."

"Look here," Tom cut in impatiently. "With Miss Fletcher gone and school closed, next year it'll be the same as if we all got held back a whole year."

"You mean repeat
everything
?" Natasha asked, aghast.

"You heard Mr. Jordan," Tom said. "School board won't bring in another teacher. Which means you get no credit for the year. And Ida and I won't get our exit tests."

"I don't like tests," Susie said.

Ida said, "It's just Tom and me who need them. But I bet you'd hate it a lot if you didn't get credit for your whole fourth grade."

"Yeah," Herbert said, "then you'd grow up to be a dumb old maid like Ida!"

Ida gave him a dirty look.

Charley said, "Then what are you fixing to do about it?"

Ida felt her heart beat faster. "Tom," she said, "had a notion."

Everyone looked at Tom.

"Who's the smartest of everybody here?" he asked.

For a moment no one said anything. Then Natasha said, "I'm the best speller. And you're best at math. But all in all, for high marks, I guess it's Ida."

"So I say," Tom said, "Ida should become our teacher."

"My own sister, the teacher?" Felix cried with such dismay everyone burst out laughing.

"I'm serious," Tom went on. "We have to have a teacher, right? Except Mr. Jordan said the school board won't get one till next year. But if we got one now and did our own schooling, everyone could move on to the next grade, and Ida and I could take our exams. She knows what to do. Let her be teacher."

"How you going to make sure we behave?" Herbert said with a grin. "Get out the switch?"

"Switch whipping is mean," Mary Kohl said.

"And I don't believe in it," Ida said.

"Then how?" Herbert challenged her.

Ida shrugged. "Find some way."

"Hey," Herbert said, "it'll be worth coming to school just to see you try."

Everyone laughed again.

"But," Natasha said earnestly, "what about the school board? Think they'd let you? You know, pay and everything?"

"Wouldn't ask for pay," Ida said. "Do it for nothing."

"Mr. Skin-a-flint Jordan would love that," Herbert said.

"But the main thing is," Tom said, "because I bet the school board wouldn't let us do it, we won't ask. We'll just do it on our own."

"A
secret
teacher?" Felix asked.

"A
secret
school?" asked Mary.

"But," Natasha said with dismay, "I already told my parents school was going to close."

The other children nodded. They had, too.

Tom said, "Well, just tell them things got changed a little, that school
is
going on. Which it would be ... mostly. No fibbing there."

"But what if they ask who's teaching?" Natasha asked.

"Say you don't know yet."

"People are going to find out at Last Day Exercises," Charley pointed out.

"Be too late by then," Tom said.

"Well, I do love secrets," Herbert said.

"All in favor, raise your hands," Tom said after a moment.

All eight hands shot up.

"Then I guess," Ida said, "I'm your teacher."

The decision made, the children sat there, waiting for Ida to say something.

"Just remember," she said softly, "this really does need to be a secret. Now go play."

When the other children ran off, Ida and Tom stayed behind.

Ida sighed. "I can't believe we're doing this."

"You nervous?"

"I think so."

"Know what my uncle once told me?"

Ida shook her head.

"Said, 'If you want to try something new, and you're not scared, means you're not really trying something new.'"

"Maybe I'm too scared," Ida said with a wan smile.

"Which scares you the most," Tom pressed, "teaching, or not going to high school?"

"I think I'd hate myself if I didn't try everything to get there," Ida said after a moment.

"Well," said Tom, "if I had to pick between hating myself and scaring myself, guess I know what I'd do."

"What?"

"Oh no!" Tom said, getting up. "Last time I suggested what you could do, you got mad at me. You're gonna have to decide for yourself." He grew thoughtful. "But if you do it, we still going to be friends?"

Ida blushed. "Tom Kohl!"

Tom grinned. "Just asking." He walked away, untied Ruckus, and led him to a shady spot to graze.

Ida watched Tom go and then strolled down to the little pond back behind the schoolhouse. On hands and knees, she studied her reflection in the still water. She was sure she didn't look like a schoolteacher.

After making sure no one was watching, Ida undid her braids, then pulled back her hair and looked at herself again. The Ida who gazed back at her now appeared a little older—a little more like a teacher.

The bell rang. Quickly, Ida rebraided her hair and ran back to school.

"Well?" Tom whispered to her when she slipped onto the bench, next to him.

"I'm going to be scared," Ida answered softly. "Very scared."

W
EDNESDAY AFTERNOON
, shortly before three o'clock, Miss Fletcher said, "Children, please put away your work."

There was a quick rustling of papers and closing of books. Expectant, the children sat back on their benches.

Miss Fletcher walked solemnly to the front of her desk. Once there she clasped her hands. Briefly, she closed her eyes, then opened them.

"Children," she began, "as you know, this has been my last day. I just want to say that I have so much enjoyed my five years with you. I ... do hope the school board will make arrangements so your studies can continue next fall.

"Now, if you treat your next teacher with the same kindness and respect you've shown me, everything will—I'm quite sure—be fine."

There was some anxious shifting among the children. The two younger ones stole looks at Ida.

"And...," Miss Fletcher concluded in a slightly husky voice, "I guess you do know how much I love you."

There was a nervous hush. Then Ida stood up. "Miss Fletcher, the class has asked me to say some words."

"Well, yes, Ida. Thank you. You may."

Ida walked up to the recitation spot in the front of the room. Addressing the teacher, hands clasped together, she began: "Miss Fletcher, we, the pupils of the Elk Valley School, wish to thank you for your excellent instruction and generous attention. No matter where we go upon the long road of life, we shall hold you dear in our hearts and memories. By so doing we shall strive to live by the poem you taught us,

 

"Do what conscience says is right;
Do what reason says is best;
Do with all your mind and might;
Do your duty, and be blest."

 

Ida unclasped her hands. "Miss Fletcher, I ... we ... really liked you being our teacher."

Ida now turned to Mary Kohl, who was seated on the first bench. "Mary..."

Mary jumped up, ran to the girls' wardrobe, and returned with a small wicker basket covered with a blue cloth. Bobbing a curtsy, almost breathless with excitement, she presented the basket to the teacher. "We made this up for you," she said.

Miss Fletcher, her hands fluttering, uncovered the basket. Inside was a mason jar of jam, a cake, two apples, a bag of cookies, plus two pencils.

"We made everything," Mary explained. "Except the pencils. Charley boughten them."

Miss Fletcher wiped her eyes with her handkerchief and said, "It's so lovely! I will surely keep the memory of this forever. And I—"

From outside came the sharp beep of a car horn.

"Oh my!" the teacher cried. "It's Mr. Plumstead. He's being kind enough to take me to the train station."

The students rushed from their benches. Miss Fletcher, wiping away more tears, hugged the children one by one.

When Herbert approached, he held up the switch.

Miss Fletcher, taken aback, asked, "What's that for?"

Herbert grinned. "Don't you want to give me one more lickin' for good luck?"

Miss Fletcher laughed and hugged him hard. "Herbert Bixler, you are not a bad boy. You're not."

"Well," he said, clearly enjoying the hug, "I sure tried."

Outside the horn tooted impatiently.

"Felix, go tell Mr. Plumstead I'm coming!" Miss Fletcher cried. "Tom, Herbert, be kind enough to carry my trunk to his car. Charley, my portmanteau is by my desk. Mary, you shall carry my precious basket. Children, have you got your things? You mustn't forget your books and coats. You won't be able to get into school till next fall."

In a great flurry, Miss Fletcher locked the door.

The children exchanged looks.

"Miss Fletcher," Herbert asked, "want me to take care of the key?"

"Oh! No, thank you. I'll give it to Mr. Plumstead."

The teacher allowed herself to be escorted to the waiting car. Mr. Plumstead, president of the Elk Valley Bank, loaded the luggage into the open rumble seat of his Studebaker, making a great fuss that it was done just right. Then he climbed into the driver's seat and looked at Miss Fletcher expectantly.

Miss Fletcher, reluctant to leave, stood before the children. "Oh, I do wish you all the very, very best," she said again. "Work hard. And—"

"Miss Fletcher," Mr. Plumstead called, "if you're going to catch the train, we're going to have to get moving."

"Yes, yes, I'm coming." The teacher opened the car door and settled in. "Good-bye, children!" she called as Mr. Plumstead put the car into gear and started off.

"Good-bye! Good-bye!" the students shouted.

They ran out into the road to watch the car go. Within moments it had disappeared from view, leaving behind only the faint smell of exhaust fumes.

Ida turned. The other seven children were staring at her.

"Ida," Susie whispered with alarm, "if the door is locked, how we ever going to get inside the school?"

"I've already thought of that," Ida announced. "Follow me!"

The children trooped after her until she stopped by a window on the west wall. "Tom, Herbert," she said, "you need to give me a hoist."

The two boys made a stirrup of their hands, and Ida stepped into it. Rising up, she slid open the window and, headfirst, squirmed inside. Within moments she reappeared at the window. "Meet me at the door," she called.

The children ran around to the front of the schoolhouse.

When the door didn't open right away, Herbert banged on it. "Hey, Ida! Come on! Open up!" he called.

The door swung in. There stood Ida. The children gasped. She had put up her hair with the pins her mother had given her.