Lyn Cote Read Online Free PDF

sticking to their own work, but I may have to tomorrow. Do you take my point?”
    “Yes, Miss Thurston,” they chorused.
    “I will do better,” Johann announced in the front row.
    Some of the students tittered.
    Ellen frowned at them, letting them know this mocking would not be tolerated. And she didn’t reprimand Johann for speaking out of turn, since she liked his eager reply and most other students nodded in agreement. “I am sure each of you will. You are fortunate to have parents who care about you enough to build a school. Now pick up your things and line up as we did to go out for recess. I will meet you at the door.”
    Ellen hadn’t planned to do this, but she recalled that her favorite teacher had always waited at the back of the schoolroom and had spoken to each of them on their way out. She had looked forward every schoolday to those few precious words meant just for her.
    She took each student’s hand in turn and thought of something pleasant to say, showing that she had noticed them specifically. Each student beamed at the praise, and she promised herself to end each schoolday this way.
    Finally, she faced Gunther and offered her hand. “Gunther, I hope you’ll find school more pleasant tomorrow.”
    He accepted her hand as if her gesture in itself insulted him and he wouldn’t meet her gaze. Then he stalked off with Johann running to keep up with him, talking in a stream of rapid German.
    She slipped inside and immediately sank onto the bench at the back of the room as if she could finally lay down the load she’d carried all day. If Mr. Lang had been there, she would have gladly given him a good shake.
    * * *
    During afternoon recess two days later, Ellen watched the younger children playing tag. Then she noticed that the older children had disappeared. Where? And why?
    Then she heard the shouting from the other side of the schoolhouse, “Fight! Fight!”
    She ran toward the voices and unfortunately the younger children followed her.
    There they were—Gunther and Clayton sparring, surrounded by the older boys and girls. As she watched, horrified, Clayton socked Gunther’s eye. Gunther landed a blow on Clayton’s jaw, making his head jerk backward.
    She shouted, “Stop!”
    At the sound of her voice, the older children surrounding the two combatants fled from her.
    She halted near the two fighting. The fists were flying and she didn’t want to get in the way of one. “Clayton Riggs, stop this instant! Gunther Lang, stop!”
    Neither boy paid the slightest attention to her. She couldn’t physically make them obey. Or could she? She ran to the pump. Soon she ran back. The two were now rolling around on the ground, punching and kicking each other.
    She doused them with the bucket of cold water.
    The two rolled apart, yelping with surprise and sputtering.
    “Stand up!” she ordered. “Now!”
    Gunther rose first, keeping his distance from the other boy. Clayton, though younger than Gunther, matched him nearly in height and weight, rolled to his feet, too.
    “Both of you, go to the pump and wash your face and hands. Now.” She gestured toward the pump and marched them there, hiding her own trembling. She was unaccustomed to physical fighting and it had shaken her.
    She stood over them as if they were two-year-olds while they washed away the dirt and blood from the fight. The cold water had evidently washed away their forgetfulness of where they were. Both looked embarrassed, chastened. Possibly wondering what their elders would say?
    She then waved them into the schoolhouse and told them to face the opposite walls near the front. She called the rest of the children inside then.
    No child spoke but as they filed in, all of them looked at the backs of the two miscreants. A question hung over them all. What would the teacher do to Gunther and Clayton?
    She was asking herself the same question. She knew that Clayton had been taunting Gunther for two days—subtly in class and blatantly on the