My First Day at Skipwith, Virginia (Cont.)
Screen 5 of 7As I was about to be persuaded not to stay, I suddenly thought of two very practical reasons why I had to stay: I had already signed a seven-month contract with the Mecklenburg County School Board; and just as crucial, I had only three one-dollar bills and two dimes in my pocket, certainly not enough to pay for a bus ticket back to Kentucky.
It was well past noon by this time, and I was hungry. So I sat down under one of those magnificent oak trees and ate. The cheese and crackers were better with the juicy apple--just as Grandma had said. The food, along with the cool shade from the tree seemed to make me somewhat more optimistic. Thinking again about the Brames, I remembered how pleasant our meeting had been. If all--or even most Virginia people are that nice, I thought to myself, a year of teaching here might not be so bad. It might even be satisfying and successful.
As I munched on the apple, other things also came to mind. I remembered what my mother had said to me just before I boarded the bus in Bowling Green. "Be thankful you have a good job, Chester," she had offered in all seriousness but with cheerful enthusiasm. "So many people are out of work. Some of my friends blame President Hoover for this depression, but I think it is too complicated to be caused by just one man. In any case," she had added, "you must work hard at your teaching job and don't get discouraged. Pray for God's guidance, but don't expect Him to do your work for you or even to make things easy for you. Accept gracefully any help offered by others, but don't wait for it!" And then she had finished the farewell by reminding me through the partly open bus window. "Remember I am behind you. I'm proud of you and want you to succeed."
These were not idle words from my mother. My older brother and I had realized for many years that she was a strong and courageous woman whose responsibilities both as mother and breadwinner had been awesome. Our very existence had been carved out and supported by her hard work, prayers, optimism and perseverance.
I also recalled what the dynamic president of Western Kentucky State Teachers College had said at one of our daily chapel exercises. "When you get out to that rural school," he declared as his fist came down on the lectern for emphasis, "you'll be on your own. Dig in, let the children and their parents know you are there to stay and that you intend to help and serve them but also to lead them. Then get to work. Don't expect teaching to be easy."
Oddly enough in this moment of indecision I also remembered what Shakespeare's Lady Macbeth said to her husband when he told her he was afraid he might fail in his mission to murder Duncan, the king. "We fail!" she exclaimed, "But screw your courage to the sticking place, and we'll not fail!"
All these memories flashed across my mind as I ate--quite a varied assortment of ideas and remembered quotations; but they did seem to he relevant, and fortunately turned out to be helpful. For I suddenly found myself no longer to be in doubt about what I would do. I would stay!
Again I started walking. The distance back to the Brames appeared to be shorter this time. Perhaps it was because I was already thinking of all the things I needed to do the coming week at school. Those big boys Mr. Ellington had talked about could certainly help me turn the outhouses back to their proper positions. Surely, they couldn't refuse to do that.
Then I thought again about the Brinkley boys and the skunk in the well; but this time I was smiling about the prank, recalling rather vividly the time some years before in Bowling Green when I put a dead snake in the drawer of my teacher's desk. As a seventh grader trying to get attention, I thought this was funny, as did my classmates, but of course the teacher viewed it differently and punished me accordingly. And as I kicked at the dust in the narrow road, I was saying to myself that putting a dead skunk in a well is perhaps no worse than putting a snake in the teacher's desk. Furthermore, since I didn't turn out to be all bad, maybe I could get the Brinkley boys to help do some constructive things around the school. At least I would try.
Of course, we would have to fix those front steps the first thing Monday morning, so we could go in and out of the school in some order. The windows could wait. The broken ones would allow the September breezes to cool things off. We wouldn't fix them until October.
The tempo of my walking speeded up, as I began to plan ahead. I was by this time already thinking about painting the school later in the fall or in early spring. A bright white with dark green trimming around the doors and windows would be just right I decided. Maybe some of the parents would help.
But then in the midst of my enthusiasm, I was suddenly reminded again of the inside of the building--how dirty it was and how much it needed immediate attention. I felt sure we just couldn't have our "opening exercises" until all that mess was cleaned up.
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