categories: first graders starting school, older students who were new to the district, and Amish, with their expansive, startled eyes sponging up the motion around them and the details of the building before them.
“Look at them.” A seventh grader jeered at two Amish boys in his line. “I’ll bet they don’t even know how to read.”
“That’s enough,” Margaret snapped. “In this school, we show respect for all our students. Is that understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.” The boy looked at his feet.
Margaret turned to the Amish students. “Welcome to our school. I would love to know your names.”
“Seth Kaufman,” one said.
“Jacob King,” the other said.
“You’re both in Mr. Taylor’s class. You’ll enjoy him and learn a great deal.”
“Danki,”
Seth said.
Jacob elbowed him and whispered, “Speak English.”
“Thank you,” Seth said.
The last straggler found a place in the fourth-grade line, and Margaret marched alongside the first graders to greet her own students. The daily entrance into the school always began with the youngest classes. Margaret led the wobbly line of six-year-olds through the main hall on the first floor, up the stairs at the rear of the building, and into her classroom. There, she stood at the door greeting children and pointing to where they should sit. She’d already memorized the seating chart. Now she simply needed to connect faces with the names.
Richard. Franklin. Patricia. Molly. Mary. Elbert. Gertrude.
“You’re the lady who was looking for my
daed,
” Gertie said.
“That’s right,” Margaret said. “I remember you. How lucky I am to be your teacher this year.”
“
Daed
says there is no such thing as luck. Only
Gottes wille.
”
Beside Gertie, a thin Amish boy nodded his head, and his hat bobbed.
“Well, if it’s
Gottes wille
for me to be your teacher, I am even more pleased.” Margaret turned to the boy. “You must be Hans Byler.”
The boy nodded again.
“I thought you two might like to sit next to each other,” Margaret said, pointing. “I have two seats for you right there in the second row.”
Margaret was glad Gertie and Hans had each other. Altogether six Amish students were supposed to enter the high school, and twenty-six were due to transfer to the consolidated grade school. But Margaret was certain she did not see that many outside as the lines formed. Not nearly that many. Her stomach soured at the impending conversation with Mr. Brownley about her failure in the assigned task.
Once everyone was seated, Margaret put a smile on her face and turned to welcome the first-grade class of 1918.
CHAPTER 12
M amm,
school is fine.” Seth tucked the cloth napkin around the ham sandwich in his lunch pail and pressed the lid into place.
“You would tell me if something is not right,” Rachel said.
“I would tell you. It’s been a week, and everything is fine. I listen to the teacher, I do my work, I come home. It’s not so different.”
Ella tapped the loaf on the bread board. If she wrapped it now, it might still be warm when she arrived at the Hershberger farm. She had plenty of stew left from yesterday to feed the Hershberger family, which had grown last week with the birth of their newest daughter.
Seth picked up a mathematics textbook. “I have to go or I’ll miss the bus.”
His lips brushed his mother’s cheek as he aimed for the back door. Before the screen door slammed closed, Jed came through it into the kitchen with a sigh he made no effort to disguise.
Rachel looked up. “What’s wrong?”
“David has gone off already.”
“The barn?” Rachel said.
Jed shook his head.
“Stables?”
“No.”
“He’ll be waiting for you in the field.”
Ella glanced up at her father’s doubtful expression and tucked a jar of strawberry jam into the food basket she was preparing.
“Every time I turn around, I’ve lost David,” Jed said. “He doesn’t come back for hours.”
“He’ll settle down,”
“Look at them.” A seventh grader jeered at two Amish boys in his line. “I’ll bet they don’t even know how to read.”
“That’s enough,” Margaret snapped. “In this school, we show respect for all our students. Is that understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.” The boy looked at his feet.
Margaret turned to the Amish students. “Welcome to our school. I would love to know your names.”
“Seth Kaufman,” one said.
“Jacob King,” the other said.
“You’re both in Mr. Taylor’s class. You’ll enjoy him and learn a great deal.”
“Danki,”
Seth said.
Jacob elbowed him and whispered, “Speak English.”
“Thank you,” Seth said.
The last straggler found a place in the fourth-grade line, and Margaret marched alongside the first graders to greet her own students. The daily entrance into the school always began with the youngest classes. Margaret led the wobbly line of six-year-olds through the main hall on the first floor, up the stairs at the rear of the building, and into her classroom. There, she stood at the door greeting children and pointing to where they should sit. She’d already memorized the seating chart. Now she simply needed to connect faces with the names.
Richard. Franklin. Patricia. Molly. Mary. Elbert. Gertrude.
“You’re the lady who was looking for my
daed,
” Gertie said.
“That’s right,” Margaret said. “I remember you. How lucky I am to be your teacher this year.”
“
Daed
says there is no such thing as luck. Only
Gottes wille.
”
Beside Gertie, a thin Amish boy nodded his head, and his hat bobbed.
“Well, if it’s
Gottes wille
for me to be your teacher, I am even more pleased.” Margaret turned to the boy. “You must be Hans Byler.”
The boy nodded again.
“I thought you two might like to sit next to each other,” Margaret said, pointing. “I have two seats for you right there in the second row.”
Margaret was glad Gertie and Hans had each other. Altogether six Amish students were supposed to enter the high school, and twenty-six were due to transfer to the consolidated grade school. But Margaret was certain she did not see that many outside as the lines formed. Not nearly that many. Her stomach soured at the impending conversation with Mr. Brownley about her failure in the assigned task.
Once everyone was seated, Margaret put a smile on her face and turned to welcome the first-grade class of 1918.
CHAPTER 12
M amm,
school is fine.” Seth tucked the cloth napkin around the ham sandwich in his lunch pail and pressed the lid into place.
“You would tell me if something is not right,” Rachel said.
“I would tell you. It’s been a week, and everything is fine. I listen to the teacher, I do my work, I come home. It’s not so different.”
Ella tapped the loaf on the bread board. If she wrapped it now, it might still be warm when she arrived at the Hershberger farm. She had plenty of stew left from yesterday to feed the Hershberger family, which had grown last week with the birth of their newest daughter.
Seth picked up a mathematics textbook. “I have to go or I’ll miss the bus.”
His lips brushed his mother’s cheek as he aimed for the back door. Before the screen door slammed closed, Jed came through it into the kitchen with a sigh he made no effort to disguise.
Rachel looked up. “What’s wrong?”
“David has gone off already.”
“The barn?” Rachel said.
Jed shook his head.
“Stables?”
“No.”
“He’ll be waiting for you in the field.”
Ella glanced up at her father’s doubtful expression and tucked a jar of strawberry jam into the food basket she was preparing.
“Every time I turn around, I’ve lost David,” Jed said. “He doesn’t come back for hours.”
“He’ll settle down,”
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