ELLA’S FIRST DAY IN THE PUBLIC SCHOOL
The assistant led the way to the Second Room, and Ella followed,
her heart beating triumphantly, for this was Cora’s room. She was
introduced to the teacher, and the teacher gave her a seat at one of
the double desks. Ella’s face fell, for no one was sitting at the
other half.
“Ida is away to-day,” said the teacher, “but she will be here
to-morrow, I think. I am sure that you will like her.”
So her seatmate’s name was Ida! Could anything have been pleasanter?
She made up her mind to write Ida of New Hampshire that very
afternoon. But there wouldn’t be any afternoon; she would be in
school from two until five. Never mind, there would be all the more
to tell her.
Across the room was Cora, who cast at Ella a look of surprise but of
genuine welcome. The two seats were diagonally opposite, and when
Ella studied mensuration, a little later, she always thought of the
diagonal of a rectangle as the distance from Cora’s seat to hers.
“The second class in geography,” the teacher called.
About half of the pupils in the room left their seats and took their
stand at the back and around two sides of the room. This was to be
Ella’s class, and to-morrow she would stand with them. To-morrow she
could say, “My class.” Could anything be more delightful?
The girl at the head raised her hand. The teacher nodded, and the
girl said, “I have been at the head three recitations.”
“Very well,” said the teacher, “then you may go to the foot,” and she
walked down to the other end of the class.
Ella thought this was rather unfair and that she ought to have been
rewarded rather than sent to the foot.
The teacher gave Ella a little yellow book of geographical questions,
and the new pupil followed the recitation with the keenest interest,
for this was the first time that she had ever seen a class of boys
and girls of her own age.
The teacher nodded to the girl at the head of the class, and she
began to recite:
“There are ten Territories besides the District of Columbia, which is
under the direct control of Congress.”
“I wonder why it is,” thought Ella, “and what ‘under the direct
control’ means. Can’t it do anything without asking Congress? What
does a District ever want to do?”
But the next girl was reciting.
“The Territories and their capitals are, Washington, Olympia, on
Puget Sound.” And she went on through the whole ten more easily and
rapidly than Ella thought she should ever be able to do. But what did
it mean that hands were raised here and there all down the line?
“Mary,” said the teacher to the girl below the one who had recited,
“what is wrong?”
“She said ‘Salt Lake City, _on_ Great Salt Lake.’ It should be
‘_near_ Great Salt Lake.’”
“Correct. Take your place,” the teacher said; and Mary took her place
just above the girl who had failed, while she and all those that had
stood between them moved down one place.
“Frank,” said the teacher, and a boy who stood next went on:
“The Gulf of Alaska and Kodiak Island are south of Alaska.”
“The Columbia River separates Washington Territory from Oregon,” said
the next; and the third recited:
“It may be said of the animals of the Territories that immense herds
of buffalo, deer, and horses roam over the prairies. Polar bears,
wild goats, and sheep are found in the mountainous regions.”
The little girl who had gone to the foot now waved her hand excitedly.
“What is it, Alice?”
“He said ‘polar bears’; it should have been ‘grizzly bears.’”
“Correct.” And Alice left the foot and moved in triumph down the
side, across the end of the room, and up the other side until she was
within four of the head.
“It’s lovely! It’s just like a game,” thought Ella. “You have to know
things, though, and know the questions as well as the answers. That’s
funny. I don’t see why the teacher doesn’t ask them.”
Suddenly the teacher did ask questions, a whole hailstorm of them,
and they went all over North America. Ella was quite aghast when she
saw how promptly they were answered and how few mistakes there were.
These were some of the questions:
“What are the principal capes in North America? What is the capital
of Missouri? What bounds New Hampshire on the north? What are the
principal manufactures of Connecticut? For what is Delaware noted?
Name the western branches of the Mississippi. What States produce
the most tobacco? What are the principal exports of British America?
Where is Mazatlan?”
She was still more aghast when the teacher said:
“You did very well with the advance lesson, but not so well with the
general questions. Remember that you are responsible for whatever you
have once learned.”
This was decidedly different from the comfortable fashion of roaming
about the tiny yellow geography to which Ella had been accustomed,
learning a few “map questions” wherever she chose.
The new pupil had heard one recitation and she felt quite wise in
the customs of the school. She did not yet see why Alice was sent to
the foot; but she had learned that lessons were short, but must be
learned perfectly, and recited without questioning; that everything
must be recited exactly right; that if it was not, you raised your
hand and went above her; and that you were expected to remember
everything you had ever learned.
Ella tried hard to recall what she had ever learned that she was
absolutely sure of, and the only thing she could call to mind on the
instant was the multiplication table—which she had never learned!
The geography class was now dismissed, and the children took their
seats. The roll was called for reports, and when it came to Alice,
she reported, “One hundred, and also fifteen extra for being at the
head three recitations.” Then Ella understood one thing more. If you
could “get up head” and stay there three recitations, you went to the
foot with fifteen extra and had a chance to get to the head again.
The fifteen extra might be used perhaps to make up for some failure.
She wished she knew. It wouldn’t be quite so dreadful to fail if
there was only some way to make up. She did not want to ask any of
the girls; she must ask Beejay. Then she remembered that Beejay
could not be asked, for he had gone away to a boarding-school for
boys. He had been to the public school, and she wondered why he had
never told her all of these interesting things. He went to another
school, however, and maybe all schools were not so wonderful as this
one. She would write to him and ask.
Ella’s lessons were usually recited in a few minutes, but evidently
more time was allowed for them in this school, for the children now
took out their atlases and set to work to draw a map of Maine. Ella
watched eagerly. The teacher noticed how interested she was and asked
if she could draw maps.
“I don’t know,” replied the little girl honestly. “I never tried; but
I can draw flowers and old castles and dogs and cats.”
“I will lend you an atlas,” said the teacher, “and you can try.”
The teacher walked about the room, looking at the children’s work
and showing them where they could make it better. Ella’s hands began
to tremble, she did so hope that hers was as good as the others. The
teacher stood watching her—for half an hour, it seemed to the little
girl. Then she took up the paper and looked it over carefully.
“That is exceedingly good,” she said as she laid it down.
Ella was happy. The teacher had not said “exceedingly” to any other
boy or girl.
The short winter afternoon was fast coming to an end. For a few days
before Christmas most of the schools were obliged to let the pupils
go home at half-past four instead of five, unless there was gas in
the building or it was a specially bright, sunny day. It was almost
half-past four now, and the teacher said, “You may put away your
books.” The children put some of them into their desks, and fastened
the others together in a strap to carry home. Then they waited for
the bell to strike.
Now was coming the event to which Ella had so looked forward, the
marching out in single file with her arms down at her sides and one
girl walking in front of her and another behind her. But she was
disappointed, for the teacher said,
“Ella, if you will wait a few minutes after school closes, I will
give you the list of the books that you will need.”
When Ella went for her hat and coat, the children were all gone,
and she had to walk home alone. She went by way of the bookstore,
however, and it almost made up for her disappointment to be able to
hand the slip of paper to the clerk and say with an air of being
perfectly at ease—she had practiced her speech in a whisper all the
way down the street—
“Will you please give me the books on this list? They are for the
Second Room in the grammar school.”
The clerk smiled. Evidently he had seen little new scholars before,
and Ella went home with a written arithmetic and a mental arithmetic,
an atlas and a little book of geographical questions, a spelling
book, a Fifth Reader, a writing book, a red penholder, an impishly
sharp little steel pen marked Gillott 303, just like the ones that
she had used at the seminary. It was a heavy load, but the glory of
it lessened the weight. She hurried up the street, eager to tell of
her day’s experiences, and happy to think that, even if she had not
marched out in the line, she was at least, and at last, within the
circle.