Life at Great Faith Elementary School: A Day in the Life of Cassie Logan

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Life at Great Faith Elementary School: A Day in the Life of Cassie Logan

On the far side of the lawn I spied Moe Turner speeding toward the seventh-grade-class building, and wondered at his energy. Moe was one of Stacey's friends. He lived on the Montier plantation, a three-and-a-half-hour walk from the school. Because of the distance, many children from the Montier plantation did not come to Great Faith after they had finished the four-year school near Smellings Creek. But there were some girls and boys like Moe who made the trek daily, leaving their homes while the sky was black and not returning until all was blackness again. I for one was certainly glad that I didn't live that far away. I don't think my feet would have wanted that badly for me to be educated.
The chiming of the second bell began. I stood up dusting my bottom as the first, second, third, and fourth graders crowded up the stairs into the hallway. Little Man flashed proudly past, his face and hands clean and his black shoes shining again. I glanced down at my own shoes powdered red and, raising my right foot, rubbed it against the back of my left leg, then reversed the procedure. As the last gong of the bell reverberated across the compound, I swooped up my pencils and notebook and ran inside.
A hallway extended from the front to the back door of the building. On either side of the hallway were two doorways, both leading into the same large room which was divided into two classrooms by a heavy canvas curtain. The second and third grades were on the left, the first and fourth grades on the right. I hurried to the rear of the building, turned to the right, and slid into a third-row bench occupied by Gracey Pearson and Alma Scott.

'You can't sit here,'

objected Gracey.

'I'm saving it for Mary Lou.'

I glanced back at Mary Lou Wellever, depositing her lunch pail on a shelf in the back of the room and said,

'Not any more you ain't,'

Miss Daisy Crocker, yellow and buckeyed, glared down at me from the middle of the room with a look that said,

'Soooooooo, it's you, Cassie Logan.'

Then she pursed her lips and drew the curtain along the rusted iron rod and tucked it into a wide loop in the back wall. With the curtain drawn back, the first graders gazed quizzically at us. Little Man sat by a window, his hands folded, patiently waiting for Miss Crocker to speak.
Mary Lou nudged me.

'That's my seat, Cassie Logan.'

'Mary Lou Wellever,'

Miss Crocker called primly,

'have a seat.'

'Yes, ma'am,'

said Mary Lou, eyeing me with a look of pure hate before turning away.
Miss Crocker walked stiffly to her desk, which was set on a tiny platform and piled high with bulky objects covered by a tarpaulin. She rapped the desk with a ruler, although the room was perfectly still, and said,

'Welcome, children, to Great Faith Elementary School.'

Turning slightly so that she stared squarely at the left side of the room, she continued,

'To all of you fourth graders, it's good to have you in my class. I'll be expecting many good and wonderful things from you.'

Then addressing the right side of the room, she said,

'And to all our little first grade friends only today starting on the road to knowledge and education, may your tiny feet find the pathways of learning steady and forever before you.'

Already bored, I stretched my right arm on the desk and rested my head in my upraised hand.
Miss Crocker smiled mechanically, then rapped on her desk again.

'Now, little ones,'

she said, still talking to the first grade,

'your teacher, Miss Davis, has been held up in Jackson for a few days so I'll have the pleasure of sprinkling your little minds with the first rays of knowledge.'

She beamed down upon them as if she expected to be applauded for this bit of news, then with a swoop of her large eyes to include the fourth graders, she went on.

'Now since there's only one of me, we shall have to sacrifice for the next few days. We shall work, work, work, but we shall have to work like little Christian boys and girls and share, share, share. Now are we willing to do that!'

'YES, MIZ CROCKER,'

the children chorused.
But I remained silent. I never did approve of group responses. Adjusting my head in my hand, I sighed heavily, my mind on the burning of the Berrys.

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