1

The day when the school board visited was looked forward to with terror by both the teacher and her pupils. It was a day of tense ceremony. Lessons were recited nervously and the misspelling of a word seemed a capital crime. There was no day on which the children made more blunders, nor on which the teacher's nerves were thinner worn.

The school board of the Pastures of Heaven* visited on the afternoon of December 15. Immediately after lunch they filed in, looking sombre and funereal and a little ashamed. First came John Whiteside, the clerk, old and white haired, with an easy attitude toward education which was sometimes criticised in the valley. Pat Humbert came after him. Pat was elected because he wanted to be. He was a lonely man who had no initiative in meeting people, and who took every possible means to be thrown into their contact. His clothes were as uncompromising, as unhappy as the bronze suit on the seated statue of Lincoln in Washington. T. B. Alien followed, dumpily rolling up the aisle. Since he was the only merchant in the valley, his seat on the board belonged to him by right. Behind him strode Raymond Banks, big and jolly and very red of hands and face. Last in the line was Bert Munroe, the newly elected member. Since it was his first visit to the school, Bert seemed a little sheepish as he followed the other members to their seats at the front of the rooms.

When the board was seated magisterially, their wives came and found seats at the back of the room, behind the children. The pupils squirmed uneasily. They felt that they were surrounded, that escape, should they need to escape, was cut off. When they twisted in their seats, they saw that the women were smiling benevolently on them. They caught sight of a large paper bundle which Mrs. Munroe held on her lap.

School opened. Miss Morgan, with a strained smile on her face, welcomed the school board. "We will do nothing out of the ordinary, gentlemen, she said. "I think it will be more interesting to you in your official capacities, to see the school as it operates every day." Very later, she wished she hadn't said that. Never within her recollection, had she seen such stupid children. Those who did manage to force words past their frozen palates, made the most hideous mistakes. Their spelling was abominable. Their reading sounded like the gibbering of the insane. The board tried to be dignified, but they could not help smiling a little from embarrassment for the children. A light perspiration formed on Miss Morgan's forehead. She had visions of being dismissed from her position by an outraged board. The wives in the rear smiled on, nervously, and time dripped by. When the arithmetic had been muddled and travestied, John Whiteside arose from his chair.

"Thank you, Miss Morgan," he said. "If you'll allow it, I'll just say a few words to the children, and then you can dismiss them. They ought to have some payment for having us here."
The teacher sighed with relief. "Then you do understand they weren't doing as well as usual? I'm glad you know that."

John Whiteside smiled. He had seen so many nervous young teachers on school board days. "If I thought they were doing their best, I'd close the school," he said. Then he spoke to the children for five minutes told them they should study hard and love their teacher. It was the short and painless little speech he had used for years. The older pupils had heard of it often. When it was done, he asked the teacher to dismiss the school. The pupils filed quietly out, but, once in the air, their relief was too much for them. With howls and shrieks they did their best to kill each other by disembowelment and decapitation.

John Whiteside shook hands with Miss Morgan. We’ve never had a teacher who kept better order, he said kindly. I think if you knew how much the children like you, you’d be embarrassed.

”But they are good children,” she insisted loyally. “They’re awfully good children”.

Прим.
Pastures of Heaven - a dwelling in a valley in Central California

2

Princess’s Sunrise

Early morning there blows a cool breeze
Rustling the tops of the tallest trees.
The sky is blue, deep as the sea.
A pretty little figure now joins me.
Her coat is ivory with seal-brown points.
This beautiful garden with grace she
anoints.
We both gaze up at the last morning star
Shining silvery-white from afar.
The red-orange sun rises up from below
Bathing the earth in a warm golden glow.
I scoop her up in my arms and she starts to
purr.
My kitten, my Princess, the sun on her fur.

Cassi Austin