The Secret School Read online

  Miss Fletcher walked solemnly to the front of her desk. Once there she clasped her hands. Briefly, she closed her eyes, then opened them.

  "Children," she began, "as you know, this has been my last day. I just want to say that I have so much enjoyed my five years with you. I ... do hope the school board will make arrangements so your studies can continue next fall.

  "Now, if you treat your next teacher with the same kindness and respect you've shown me, everything will—I'm quite sure—be fine."

  There was some anxious shifting among the children. The two younger ones stole looks at Ida.

  "And...," Miss Fletcher concluded in a slightly husky voice, "I guess you do know how much I love you."

  There was a nervous hush. Then Ida stood up. "Miss Fletcher, the class has asked me to say some words."

  "Well, yes, Ida. Thank you. You may."

  Ida walked up to the recitation spot in the front of the room. Addressing the teacher, hands clasped together, she began: "Miss Fletcher, we, the pupils of the Elk Valley School, wish to thank you for your excellent instruction and generous attention. No matter where we go upon the long road of life, we shall hold you dear in our hearts and memories. By so doing we shall strive to live by the poem you taught us,

  "Do what conscience says is right;

  Do what reason says is best;

  Do with all your mind and might;

  Do your duty, and be blest."

  Ida unclasped her hands. "Miss Fletcher, I ... we ... really liked you being our teacher."

  Ida now turned to Mary Kohl, who was seated on the first bench. "Mary..."

  Mary jumped up, ran to the girls' wardrobe, and returned with a small wicker basket covered with a blue cloth. Bobbing a curtsy, almost breathless with excitement, she presented the basket to the teacher. "We made this up for you," she said.

  Miss Fletcher, her hands fluttering, uncovered the basket. Inside was a mason jar of jam, a cake, two apples, a bag of cookies, plus two pencils.

  "We made everything," Mary explained. "Except the pencils. Charley boughten them."

  Miss Fletcher wiped her eyes with her handkerchief and said, "It's so lovely! I will surely keep the memory of this forever. And I—"

  From outside came the sharp beep of a car horn.

  "Oh my!" the teacher cried. "It's Mr. Plumstead. He's being kind enough to take me to the train station."

  The students rushed from their benches. Miss Fletcher, wiping away more tears, hugged the children one by one.

  When Herbert approached, he held up the switch.

  Miss Fletcher, taken aback, asked, "What's that for?"

  Herbert grinned. "Don't you want to give me one more lickin' for good luck?"

  Miss Fletcher laughed and hugged him hard. "Herbert Bixler, you are not a bad boy. You're not."

  "Well," he said, clearly enjoying the hug, "I sure tried."

  Outside the horn tooted impatiently.

  "Felix, go tell Mr. Plumstead I'm coming!" Miss Fletcher cried. "Tom, Herbert, be kind enough to carry my trunk to his car. Charley, my portmanteau is by my desk. Mary, you shall carry my precious basket. Children, have you got your things? You mustn't forget your books and coats. You won't be able to get into school till next fall."

  In a great flurry, Miss Fletcher locked the door.

  The children exchanged looks.

  "Miss Fletcher," Herbert asked, "want me to take care of the key?"

  "Oh! No, thank you. I'll give it to Mr. Plumstead."

  The teacher allowed herself to be escorted to the waiting car. Mr. Plumstead, president of the Elk Valley Bank, loaded the luggage into the open rumble seat of his Studebaker, making a great fuss that it was done just right. Then he climbed into the driver's seat and looked at Miss Fletcher expectantly.

  Miss Fletcher, reluctant to leave, stood before the children. "Oh, I do wish you all the very, very best," she said again. "Work hard. And—"

  "Miss Fletcher," Mr. Plumstead called, "if you're going to catch the train, we're going to have to get moving."

  "Yes, yes, I'm coming." The teacher opened the car door and settled in. "Good-bye, children!" she called as Mr. Plumstead put the car into gear and started off.

  "Good-bye! Good-bye!" the students shouted.

  They ran out into the road to watch the car go. Within moments it had disappeared from view, leaving behind only the faint smell of exhaust fumes.

  Ida turned. The other seven children were staring at her.

  "Ida," Susie whispered with alarm, "if the door is locked, how we ever going to get inside the school?"

  "I've already thought of that," Ida announced. "Follow me!"

  The children trooped after her until she stopped by a window on the west wall. "Tom, Herbert," she said, "you need to give me a hoist."

  The two boys made a stirrup of their hands, and Ida stepped into it. Rising up, she slid open the window and, headfirst, squirmed inside. Within moments she reappeared at the window. "Meet me at the door," she called.

  The children ran around to the front of the schoolhouse.

  When the door didn't open right away, Herbert banged on it. "Hey, Ida! Come on! Open up!" he called.

  The door swung in. There stood Ida. The children gasped. She had put up her hair with the pins her mother had given her.

  "Children," she said in the most prim teacher-like voice she could manage, "school is closed for the day. It will open regular at eight-thirty sharp tomorrow morning."

  There was a whoop of laughter.

  "I am quite serious," Ida said firmly. "School is dismissed for the day." She closed the door.

  The children looked at one another, surprised. Gradually they drifted off, leaving only Felix. Not sure what to do, he sat down on the front steps.

  The door opened behind him. Ida peeked out. "They all gone?"

  "I guess you told them to, didn't you?"

  "Tom, too?"

  "Yeah."

  Ida stepped off the porch. "Come on. Guess if we're going to get home we're going to have to crank up the car ourselves."

  As they walked toward the car Felix looked up at his sister. "Ida..."

  "What?"

  "I like your hair better down."

  "Well, you better get used to it," Ida said. "It's going to stay up."

  Six

  "HAVE TO GET TO school half an hour earlier tomorrow," Ida announced at the supper table.

  "How's that?" her father asked between mouth-fuls of bean and lamb stew.

  "The new teacher starts," Ida said softly.

  Felix stared at his sister.

  Mrs. Bidson, who had been attending the baby on her lap, looked up at Ida sharply.

  "That school board's sure been quick getting a replacement for Miss Fletcher," said Mr. Bidson.

  "How did you know?" Ida asked faintly.

  "Your ma told me about Miss Fletcher leaving," her father explained.

  For a moment no one spoke. Then Mrs. Bidson reached out and touched Ida's hand. "Honey, don't you want to say more?"

  Mr. Bidson looked up and gazed around at the somber faces. "Am I missing something?" he asked.

  "Pa," Ida whispered, "I'm the new teacher."

  Her father stared at her for a moment as if not understanding. He turned to his wife, then back to Ida. Putting down his fork, he said, "Better say that again."

  Ida gripped the edge of the table with both hands. Then she said, "I'm Miss Fletcher's replacement."

  "Only nobody knows," Felix piped in.

  Mr. Bidson sat back and used his napkin to wipe his lips. "Ida Bidson," he said, "I'd sure be pleased to hear some more about this."

  Ida gave a pleading look at her mother, who responded with a tiny nod of encouragement.

  "Well...," Ida began, and gave a quick summary of what had happened at school, how her being the replacement teacher meant that she and Tom could take their final exams, it being the only way they could move on, and that this arrangement was agreed to by each of the children. />
  "I knew women got the vote," Mr. Bidson said with a slight smile, "but that go for kids, too?"

  "We did vote," Felix said proudly. "Me, too."

  Ida looked across at her father. "Is that okay with you?"

  "The school board—with Mr. Jordan—gave permission?"

  Ida stole another look at her mother. This time Mrs. Bidson gave no response.

  "Pa," Ida pleaded, "he doesn't even think girls should go to high school."

  Mr. Bidson made a dismissive wave of his hand. "Old Jordan's notion of progress is to close his eyes and step back to eighteen twenty-five."

  "Pa," said Ida, "we're ... not even telling him."

  "It's a secret school," Felix announced solemnly.

  Mr. Bidson, a flicker of a smile hovering over his lips, looked around at his wife. Then he grinned. "Kids, you have as much chance keeping secrets in the valley as you do growing oranges. But see here, Ida, my love, I won't quarrel none. I'm going to have to say something, though: The farm comes first. Before any high school."

  Ida swallowed hard. "I understand."

  Mr. Bidson nodded. "All right, then," he said. "Give it a try. I wish you luck."

  "But it has to be a secret," Ida reminded him.

  Her father laughed. "Won't even tell the sheep."

  The next morning Ida got up at four-thirty, milked the cow, mucked the stall, and spread grain for the chickens. After a hasty breakfast, she pinned up her hair.

  She and Felix got to school early.

  "It's cold," Felix complained as he slid out of the car.

  Ida yawned. "Let's fetch some wood. We'll light the stove." While Felix was loading up his arms with wood from the woodpile behind the school, Ida rolled a large log under the window. Then she stood on the log and crawled through the window.

  Once inside she stood quietly and looked all around her. The one-room building seemed larger than usual.

  Ida started toward the back-row bench. Catching herself, she moved to the teacher's desk. When she reached it, she stopped and touched the cool wooden surface. A chill went through her body.

  Taking off her coat, Ida automatically moved toward the girls' wardrobe, only to catch herself again. She made herself use the teacher's hook. Then she had to force herself to sit in the teacher's chair. Once seated, she summoned up her will and gazed at the empty rows and desks before her.

  "I'm fourteen years old and a dumb dora," she whispered out loud.

  There was a knock on the door. Stomach queasy, holding her breath, Ida opened the door. It was only Felix.

  "Hey Ida," he cried, "what took you so long? Give me a hand!" He staggered in under the load of wood.

  "Felix," she replied, trying to control her voice, "though I'm still your sister and you may call me Ida at home, in school, henceforward, I'm your teacher and you must call me Miss Bidson." She took a few of the logs out of his arms.

  Felix dropped the remaining wood in the wood box. Arms akimbo, he said, "That mean you're gonna talk like a teacher, too?"

  "The proper words are going to."

  Felix glared at her and then escaped outside.

  At eight-thirty—though Ida wasn't too sure of the time because she belatedly realized that, unlike Miss Fletcher, she did not have a pocket watch—she removed the school flag from the bottom drawer of her desk, then went to the door and pulled the cord to ring the bell.

  The class gathered around the flagpole and raised the frayed flag. Then all seven children stormed inside. They were acting, Ida immediately realized, louder and more boisterous than when Miss Fletcher had been there. Increasingly unsure of herself, Ida went to her desk at the front of the room.

  The school became quiet.

  Everyone was staring at her. "Good morning, class," Ida said.

  "Morning, Ida!" Herbert shouted out.

  Feeling herself go red, Ida snapped, "Herbert Bixler, I'll ask you to remember my name is Miss Bidson."

  "Oh yeah?" he said.

  "Yes. Now again, good morning, students," Ida said.

  "Good morning, Miss Bidson!"

  Struggling not to panic, Ida tried desperately to remember all that Miss Fletcher and their other previous teachers had done to start the day. She must act, she told herself, as if she were in complete control. She only hoped that her dress would hide her shaky legs.

  Suddenly she remembered: Singing. That was how they always began.

  She cleared her throat. "As usual," she said, hoping she sounded confident, "we will begin the day with a song. Susie Spool, please lead us as you normally do."

  The children stood, and Susie came to the recitation spot in front of the room and began to sing "Amazing Grace."

  Her clear, firm voice filled the entire room, soothing Ida, and giving her time to think. On the second verse the other children joined in. Eyes closed, Ida sang along with all her heart.

  By the time the song was finished, Ida had regained sufficient calm to say, "Thank you, Susie, for your lovely rendition. You may take your seat."

  As Susie did so, Ida took a deep breath. She was feeling much better.

  "Today," she said, "we shall begin as we always do. Mary and Felix will read to me from their primers. Tom—you'll study your mathematics, then assist Susie with hers. Natasha, you need to work on your geography. Charley, you'll parse the opening paragraph from The Way to Be Happy, page one-fifty-nine of your reader." To Ida's astonishment, the children reached for their books.

  Then, from across the room Herbert called, "What about me?"

  "Herbert Bixler, you will read your history."

  "I'd sure like to see you make me," the boy said, a great grin on his face.

  The room became deathly still.

  Seven

  HERBERT LEANED OVER his desk and smirked at Ida. She was quite certain her pounding heart could be heard by everyone. The other children were looking down, except for Tom, who was frowning angrily at Herbert. Suddenly Tom stood up, hands balled into fists.

  Herbert laughed. "Teacher's pet going to defend the teacher?" he taunted.

  "Tom Kohl, sit down!" Ida cried. "I'm in charge."

  A reluctant Tom sat, even as Ida, with unsteady legs, stood up. The children gazed at her. The younger ones, Mary and Felix, were wide-eyed with fright.

  Momentarily, Ida glanced at the switch that hung close by on the wall. She knew she could not use it. It wasn't in her. Besides, she knew Herbert would only fight back. If that happened, it would be the end of school. No, she'd have to try something else.

  She turned back to the class. "Herbert Bixler," she said, trying to be calm but not, she sensed, being very successful, "I asked you to study your history. Are you going to do it or not?"

  Herbert only laughed, leaned back, and put his hands behind his head and his bare feet up on the desk in front of him. "Hey, Ida, I'm just saying you can try and make me if you want."

  Ida, finding it hard to breathe, walked up the side aisle. Herbert watched her come but did not move. His grin had become frozen.

  Drawing closer to the boy, Ida said, "Herbert Bixler, are you going to do as you're told?"

  "Guess I'll do what I want, thank you, ma'am," he replied, trying to sound flippant.

  A deep anger went through Ida. Herbert would spoil everything. If she couldn't control him, the school would not work. "Does anyone," she snapped, "make you come to school?"

  "Come only if I want," Herbert retorted, but her unexpected question brought an edge of uncertainty to his voice.

  "Everyone in this room is wanting to learn," Ida said. "We all took a vote to keep this school open, so I guess we can pretty well vote you out if we want. Then the whole valley will know you for what you are, a skulking, low-down, lazy dud."

  Laughter rippled through the room. This was not regular teacher's talk. The grin on Herbert's face turned sickly.

  Gaining strength, Ida cried, "Is that what you want? To be known as a lazy dud?" She made a sharp bang on the floor by stamping her foot. Everyone jump
ed.

  "I ain't saying—," Herbert said as he pulled his feet back from the desk.

  "I don't care what you say," Ida snapped furiously. "I'm only caring for what you do!"

  She turned to the class. "All right, students. We'll take a vote. Those in favor of forever expelling Herbert Bixler from—"

  Herbert sat up. "Hey, Ida, I was only fooling!"

  "What's my name?"

  "Aw..."

  Ida went on, "All in favor of expelling Herbert Bixler from this school if he ever interferes again, raise your hands."

  She lifted her own hand. The other hands shot up. "Majority rules," she announced, turning back to the boy. "You either do as I tell you or you're expelled."

  Herbert's face turned red. "Hey ... Miss Bidson ... I was just joshing," he mumbled.

  "Take out your history book," Ida commanded.

  "Yes, Miss Bidson." Sheepishly, Herbert pulled out his old book, opened it, and bowed his head over the pages.

  Feeling enormous relief, Ida looked around. Tom gave her a wink.

  Ida blushed and nodded curdy, then returned to the teacher's desk. She felt exhausted. And the day had only just begun.

  "Mary and Felix," she said softly after a moment of silence that seemed to last forever, "you may come and read to me now."

  As the two youngest came forward, readers in hand, the room's tension melted. The others turned to their tasks.

  It was midmorning when Ida suddenly realized it must be recess time. She made the announcement.

  The children dropped their work and rushed outside, except for Tom.

  "Aren't you going out?" Ida asked.

  Tom remained seated on his bench. "Am I going have to call you Miss Bidson, too?" he asked.

  Ida, suddenly fearful she might cry from the morning's tension, turned away. "Yes," she said.

  Tom gazed at her, then headed for the door.

  "Tom," Ida suddenly said, "it's a whole lot harder than I thought. I don't know if I can do it."

  He smiled. "You're doing fine ... Miss Bidson."

  "Thank you," she said stiffly.