the humorous parts. Babies became restless, were taken outside or given to another person.
The Abraham Lincoln play went well. Ruthie spoke with confidence, using her best voice, with Isaac supporting her.
The play about the wise men was flubbed a bit when Matthew forgot to finish his lines, confusing Rebecca, who bravely soldiered on, acting as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Good for her!
The first-graders wouldn’t hold still behind the curtain, so Isaac snapped Ephraim’s suspenders and shot them all a vicious glance, which did wonders. The little chap was always the one who stirred up everyone else. Like Bennie, probably no one made him listen at home.
The upper graders sang two German songs, “ Stille Nacht ” (Silent Night) and “ Kommet Alle ” (Come All).
That was always touching for Dat. Being conservative, he was touched by the continual teaching of German in the schools. He fervently hoped that the Muttasproch (mother language) of the forefathers would not be neglected and that the old, but precious, tradition would be kept. So when these young people sang the old hymns in the beloved language, it meant much to him, and his respect for Teacher Catherine was heightened.
Isaac saw Mam lift her glasses, unobtrusively extending a forefinger to wipe the wetness that had pooled beneath one eye.
Little, first-grade Daniel’s part was to sit in a Christmas cake, accidentally, of course, while wearing an extra pair of pants, of course, which was always funny. The classroom erupted into unabashed laughter. Very loud, Isaac thought, which was good.
A soft footfall, and he heard Ruthie. Isaac froze. Chills chased themselves up his back. He became warm all over. Her voice was strong. The words came slowly, but they were absolutely distinct. He caught Calvin’s eye. Calvin shook his head in disbelief. From the first line to the very end of her poem, she spoke without faltering, her voice rising and falling in time to the beauty of the words.
No one in the audience knew there was anything unusual about the fact that Lloyd Allgyer’s Ruthie spoke her whole poem slowly and clearly.
Only the SOS group and Teacher Catherine, who were bursting with Christmas joy.
The hour and 15 minutes flew by, as the plays and poems mixed with singing filled up everyone’s senses. The spirit of Christmas swirled about and infused everyone who was in the room. Many of the guests were sorry to hear the closing song, telling each other it had been an outstanding program this year, that someone had spent a lot of time putting all this into the students.
Amid hearty hand-clapping from the audience, the pupils poured out of the back door into the clear cold air, relieved of the pressure to perform well, relieved of the month of practice, the hard work of memorizing and delivering the lines just right.
The upper-graders were pulled to Ruthie as if a gigantic magnet’s force drew them there. Hannah and Dora hugged her and squealed high and long. Isaac found that a bit overboard, but what else could you expect from girls?
“Ruthie! You did it!” Calvin yelled.
Isaac wanted to know how. “How could you do that?”
They all huddled together in the cold, cold air, as Ruthie crossed her arms tightly around her waist to stay warmer and keep from shivering. She told them she had practiced in front of a mirror, over and over and over, finally grasping the concept of speaking slower. “When I stutter, I’m afraid I can’t say it, so I go too fast. Sort of like someone falling down the stairs. When they feel themselves slipping, they go too far in the opposite direction to stop themselves and roll down the stairs.”
They all laughed about that description, which surprised Ruthie, who joined in whole- heartedly. It was a dose of Christmas spirit multiplied by 10, all brought about by Ruthie’s success. It felt good.
Teacher Catherine met them inside the door, gathered Ruthie into her arms and held her there. Only the
The Abraham Lincoln play went well. Ruthie spoke with confidence, using her best voice, with Isaac supporting her.
The play about the wise men was flubbed a bit when Matthew forgot to finish his lines, confusing Rebecca, who bravely soldiered on, acting as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Good for her!
The first-graders wouldn’t hold still behind the curtain, so Isaac snapped Ephraim’s suspenders and shot them all a vicious glance, which did wonders. The little chap was always the one who stirred up everyone else. Like Bennie, probably no one made him listen at home.
The upper graders sang two German songs, “ Stille Nacht ” (Silent Night) and “ Kommet Alle ” (Come All).
That was always touching for Dat. Being conservative, he was touched by the continual teaching of German in the schools. He fervently hoped that the Muttasproch (mother language) of the forefathers would not be neglected and that the old, but precious, tradition would be kept. So when these young people sang the old hymns in the beloved language, it meant much to him, and his respect for Teacher Catherine was heightened.
Isaac saw Mam lift her glasses, unobtrusively extending a forefinger to wipe the wetness that had pooled beneath one eye.
Little, first-grade Daniel’s part was to sit in a Christmas cake, accidentally, of course, while wearing an extra pair of pants, of course, which was always funny. The classroom erupted into unabashed laughter. Very loud, Isaac thought, which was good.
A soft footfall, and he heard Ruthie. Isaac froze. Chills chased themselves up his back. He became warm all over. Her voice was strong. The words came slowly, but they were absolutely distinct. He caught Calvin’s eye. Calvin shook his head in disbelief. From the first line to the very end of her poem, she spoke without faltering, her voice rising and falling in time to the beauty of the words.
No one in the audience knew there was anything unusual about the fact that Lloyd Allgyer’s Ruthie spoke her whole poem slowly and clearly.
Only the SOS group and Teacher Catherine, who were bursting with Christmas joy.
The hour and 15 minutes flew by, as the plays and poems mixed with singing filled up everyone’s senses. The spirit of Christmas swirled about and infused everyone who was in the room. Many of the guests were sorry to hear the closing song, telling each other it had been an outstanding program this year, that someone had spent a lot of time putting all this into the students.
Amid hearty hand-clapping from the audience, the pupils poured out of the back door into the clear cold air, relieved of the pressure to perform well, relieved of the month of practice, the hard work of memorizing and delivering the lines just right.
The upper-graders were pulled to Ruthie as if a gigantic magnet’s force drew them there. Hannah and Dora hugged her and squealed high and long. Isaac found that a bit overboard, but what else could you expect from girls?
“Ruthie! You did it!” Calvin yelled.
Isaac wanted to know how. “How could you do that?”
They all huddled together in the cold, cold air, as Ruthie crossed her arms tightly around her waist to stay warmer and keep from shivering. She told them she had practiced in front of a mirror, over and over and over, finally grasping the concept of speaking slower. “When I stutter, I’m afraid I can’t say it, so I go too fast. Sort of like someone falling down the stairs. When they feel themselves slipping, they go too far in the opposite direction to stop themselves and roll down the stairs.”
They all laughed about that description, which surprised Ruthie, who joined in whole- heartedly. It was a dose of Christmas spirit multiplied by 10, all brought about by Ruthie’s success. It felt good.
Teacher Catherine met them inside the door, gathered Ruthie into her arms and held her there. Only the
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