teaching a group of fifteen girls. Chantel saw at a glance that some of them were very young, no more than nine or ten. Others seemed older, as much as fifteen, perhaps sixteen.
Sister Agnes examined Chantel with a steely glance, assigned her a seat, and said, “We will now proceed with the lesson. Chantel, you will have to study hard to catch up, for you are beginning late.”
“Yes, Sister Agnes.”
“I permit no laziness in here. You will work hard and do extra work until you are up with the rest of the class. You understand?”
“Yes, I will do my very best.”
“I expect it.” Sister Agnes turned to the board and wrote out an algebraic formula. She turned and began to call out names. “Angelique, you will solve this problem.”
A tall girl of about fifteen, rather pretty but with a sullen expression, went to the board. Her lower lip was stuck out in a pout, and for a time she struggled with the problem. Finally Sister Agnes said, “You are a sluggard, Angelique. Come here.”
Angelique looked frightened, but she came over to stand before the stubby nun. “Put out your hand.” Sister Agnes took out a footlong ruler, and when Angelique held out a trembling hand she struck it sharply twice. Angelique winced and went to her seat with a sharp reprimand.
Several other girls tried the formula, and none of them could solve it. Each received the same punishment. Finally Sister Agnes said, “All right, Laurel, you are our star student in algebra. Come and work the problem.”
A short girl with a round face and rather heavy figure came forward. She did better than the rest, but when she turned, Sister Agnes snorted, “I am disappointed in you, Laurel! Take your seat. You will do twenty extra problems for tomorrow.”
“Yes, Sister Agnes.”
Sister Agnes glared at the group, and finally her eyes lit on Chantel. “Well, have you had any training in algebra?”
“Yes, a little.”
“Come and work this problem then.”
A snicker went around the room as Chantel got up, and she heard the girl named Angelique whisper, “What a beanpole! She’s skinny as a snake.”
Chantel’s face reddened, but she went to the board. Her instructor in mathematics had been one of the priest’s assistants. He was an amiable young man and had quickly discovered that whatever brain cells make a person adept at algebra, Chantel had. He had been delighted with her progress and had gone through advanced problems with her.
Chantel took the chalk and worked the problem rapidly. When she put down the answer, she said, “I think this is right, Sister Agnes.”
Sister Agnes’s eyes grew round. “Well,” she said with surprise, “it is correct! Very good! Very good indeed, Chantel!” Then she turned to the class and for five minutes shamed them for letting a new stu- dent show them all up. She said, “Some of you need help. I will expect you, Chantel, to help the slower students—which seems to be everyone.”
“I’ll be glad to do anything I can to help, Sister Agnes.”
Chantel took her seat, and the lessons went on. After the algebra class several of the younger students came up and introduced themselves. A slender, doe-eyed girl named Helen begged for help. “I just can’t get this into my head, Chantel.”
“It’s easy. I’ll help you,” Chantel assured her.
And then they were interrupted by a voice that said, “Well, Stick Legs, are you happy that you’ve embarrassed the rest of us?”
Chantel turned to find Angelique and Laurel standing there. The other girls had drawn back, and Sister Agnes had left the room. Laurel suddenly reached out and struck Chantel in the chest with her fist. “You think you’re so smart! Well, you’d better not be too smart, or you’ll be sorry!”
Angelique reached out and pulled Chantel’s hair. “Don’t be thinking too well of yourself. We’re the oldest students here, and you’ll do exactly as we say. You’ll polish my shoes tonight. You understand me?”
“I
Sister Agnes examined Chantel with a steely glance, assigned her a seat, and said, “We will now proceed with the lesson. Chantel, you will have to study hard to catch up, for you are beginning late.”
“Yes, Sister Agnes.”
“I permit no laziness in here. You will work hard and do extra work until you are up with the rest of the class. You understand?”
“Yes, I will do my very best.”
“I expect it.” Sister Agnes turned to the board and wrote out an algebraic formula. She turned and began to call out names. “Angelique, you will solve this problem.”
A tall girl of about fifteen, rather pretty but with a sullen expression, went to the board. Her lower lip was stuck out in a pout, and for a time she struggled with the problem. Finally Sister Agnes said, “You are a sluggard, Angelique. Come here.”
Angelique looked frightened, but she came over to stand before the stubby nun. “Put out your hand.” Sister Agnes took out a footlong ruler, and when Angelique held out a trembling hand she struck it sharply twice. Angelique winced and went to her seat with a sharp reprimand.
Several other girls tried the formula, and none of them could solve it. Each received the same punishment. Finally Sister Agnes said, “All right, Laurel, you are our star student in algebra. Come and work the problem.”
A short girl with a round face and rather heavy figure came forward. She did better than the rest, but when she turned, Sister Agnes snorted, “I am disappointed in you, Laurel! Take your seat. You will do twenty extra problems for tomorrow.”
“Yes, Sister Agnes.”
Sister Agnes glared at the group, and finally her eyes lit on Chantel. “Well, have you had any training in algebra?”
“Yes, a little.”
“Come and work this problem then.”
A snicker went around the room as Chantel got up, and she heard the girl named Angelique whisper, “What a beanpole! She’s skinny as a snake.”
Chantel’s face reddened, but she went to the board. Her instructor in mathematics had been one of the priest’s assistants. He was an amiable young man and had quickly discovered that whatever brain cells make a person adept at algebra, Chantel had. He had been delighted with her progress and had gone through advanced problems with her.
Chantel took the chalk and worked the problem rapidly. When she put down the answer, she said, “I think this is right, Sister Agnes.”
Sister Agnes’s eyes grew round. “Well,” she said with surprise, “it is correct! Very good! Very good indeed, Chantel!” Then she turned to the class and for five minutes shamed them for letting a new stu- dent show them all up. She said, “Some of you need help. I will expect you, Chantel, to help the slower students—which seems to be everyone.”
“I’ll be glad to do anything I can to help, Sister Agnes.”
Chantel took her seat, and the lessons went on. After the algebra class several of the younger students came up and introduced themselves. A slender, doe-eyed girl named Helen begged for help. “I just can’t get this into my head, Chantel.”
“It’s easy. I’ll help you,” Chantel assured her.
And then they were interrupted by a voice that said, “Well, Stick Legs, are you happy that you’ve embarrassed the rest of us?”
Chantel turned to find Angelique and Laurel standing there. The other girls had drawn back, and Sister Agnes had left the room. Laurel suddenly reached out and struck Chantel in the chest with her fist. “You think you’re so smart! Well, you’d better not be too smart, or you’ll be sorry!”
Angelique reached out and pulled Chantel’s hair. “Don’t be thinking too well of yourself. We’re the oldest students here, and you’ll do exactly as we say. You’ll polish my shoes tonight. You understand me?”
“I
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