[Sidenote: Nervousness]
Blythe MacLane was in her senior year of high school in Middlebury,
Connecticut. She was a very nervous child and because of this, had
always been allowed extra privileges in the school, which other pupils
did not have.
When called upon to recite, she would say, “Please don’t make me rise,
Miss Hutchins. I get so scared when I get up, I forget everything I
know.”
Miss Hutchins always gave in. “All right, you may remain seated if you
wish.”
Or, when certain papers were chosen to be read at the literary society,
Blythe was always excused from reading hers.
If her paper was especially good, Miss Hutchins would say in class, “I
wish Blythe’s paper could be read at the meeting tomorrow. Will you read
it for her, Josephine?”
Later, when Miss Hutchins was working out the details for the
Commencement program, she said to Blythe, “I’m going to seat you at the
end of the front row, Blythe, so that you will not have to walk across
the stage for your diploma.”
And again, “I did not give you a special part on the program, Blythe,
because I know how frightened you get when you have to speak before an
audience.”
“Thank you, Miss Hutchins. I think I should die if I had to walk across
that platform, and as for taking part in the program, I know I should
just sink through the floor when I got up to speak.”