Paradise Falls by Ruth Ryan Langan Page B

sit. Whenever they caught their new teacher looking at them they ducked their head and studied the floor.
    Fiona stood at the front of the room and counted them. Eleven. Eleven students, eager to learn, to grow, to have their young minds challenged.
    She wiped her hands down her skirts before picking up the slate from her desk. This is how I spell my name.” She angled it so that all could see. “Now I’ll pass the slate around, and each of you may write your name. If you need help, let me know and we’ll write your name together.”
    Fiona handed the slate to a little girl seated at the first desk. “Afton, do you know how to print your name?”
    “Yes, Miss Downey,” the girl said proudly. “My mama taught me how,”
    Though it seemed a great effort to press the chalk over the slate, Afton managed her name before holding it up for the others to see.
    “That’s very good, Afton.” Fiona handed the slate to a boy seated behind her.
    When the boy stumbled over the spelling of his name, the big boy whispered loudly enough for the entire class to hear. “Now you’ll get it, Erik.”
    “The stick?” Erik visibly paled.
    Seeing it, Fiona moved quickly to reassure him. “There is no stick in this classroom. Nor will there be.”
    “No stick?” The tall boy, whose name was Edmer Rudd, had chosen a seat in the very back of the room. He glanced around in surprise. “How will you make us behave?”
    “I intend to appeal to your better nature.”
    He gave a rude snort. “Miss Hornby said nothing makes children behave like the sting of a switch to their backsides.”
    It was on the tip of Fiona’s tongue to argue the point, but she knew that everything said this day would be repeated around supper tables tonight all over town. Folding her hands behind her back she stepped to the front of the room. “While in this classroom, we will live by the Golden Rule.” She glanced around and saw that the children had gone very still, a look of puzzlement on their faces. “We will treat each other the way we would wish to be treated. If we make a mistake, or if we do something that hurts another, we will apologize and do our best to make things right. Can you agree to that?”
    The children glanced around uneasily, and seemed to wait for Edmer’s reaction. When he merely stared at her, Fiona cleared her throat.
    “In time you’ll see how easy it will be. My job is to teach you. Your job is to learn. If you don’t understand something I’ve told you, you must let me know so that I can explain it better.”
    “And then you’ll switch us?” Edmer said with barely concealed sarcasm.
    When no one laughed, Fiona realized she had her work cut out for her. It would take patience, and a great deal of effort on her part, to persuade these children that she meant what she said. “Perhaps,” she said as she sat at her desk, “we ought to go over a few of the rules.”
    Seeing the suspicion in their eyes she began. “If you wish to be excused to go to the outhouse, simply raise your hand at any time, and you may go.”
    Edmer gave a snort of laughter. “Miss Hornby used to make us wait until lunchtime. She said we were only using it as an excuse to get out of doing things we didn’t like. If you let us go whenever we want, how will you know if we really need to go?”
    “It’s a matter of honor, Edmer. I expect each of you to know what’s best, and to do it.” Fiona glanced around. “I’ve placed a bucket of water, soap, and a towel to be used before returning to the classroom.”
    “Why?” one of the girls asked.
    “So as not to spread germs.”
    “What’s wrong with that? Most of us are German,” someone shouted, to the delight of the others.
    “So you are.” Fiona chuckled. “But I’m talking about germs, not Germans. By washing our hands we can avoid some illnesses. I know you don’t think about germs, but since it’s one of my rules, I’ll ask you to honor it.” She pointed. “We have a bucket of