This is fiction— a horror story— but the scene it describes has faken place in many countries
T h e t e a c h e r was afraid. And the children were afraid. All except Johnny. He watched the class room door with hatred^ deep in his stomach. It was two minutes to nine. The teacher’s terror was for the children. In the mists of her mind she saw the rows upon rows of chil dren she had taught through her years. Always the same age or thereabouts. Seven. And the faces always open and full of trust, ready for the knowledge that she was to give. The children watched her, wondering. They saw, not the gray hair and the old eyes and the lined face, but only their teacher and the twisting of her hands. Johnny wanted to shout that there was no need to fear. “ Just because they’ve conquered us there’s no need for panic,” Dad had said. “ Don’t be afraid, Johnny. If you fear too much, you’ll be dead even though you’re alive.” There was a sound of approaching footsteps, and the door opened. The children gasped. They had expected an ogre or witch or monster. Instead, a beautiful young girl stood in the doorway. Her clothes were neat and clean, all olive-green — even her shoes. Most important, she wore a lovely smile, and when she spoke, there was no trace of an accent. “ Good morning, children,” the New Teacher said; then she walked to the teacher’s desk, and as she passed Sandra, who sat at the end of the first row, she said, “ Good morning, Sandra.” Sandra flushed deeply and wondered, How did she know my name? The teacher got up shakily. “ I, er, I—good morn ing.” “ Hello, Miss Worden,” the New Teacher said. “ I’m taking over your class now. You are to go to the prin cipal’s office.” Miss Worden saw the New Teacher’s smile, but she wasn’t touched by its compassion. She tried to stop her knees from shaking. “ Good-by, children,” she said. The children made no reply. Thjey were too terrified by the sound of her voice and the tears that wet her face. And some of them cried. The New Teacher shut the door behind Miss Worden and turned back into the room. Cradling Sandra in her arms, she said, “ Children, children, there’s no need to cry! I know — I’ll sing you a song! Listen!” She began to sing and the children stopped crying. They listened spellbound to the happy lilt of the New Teacher’s voice. After the first chorus she told them the story of the song. It was about two children who had lost their way on the great grass prairies and were afraid, but they met a fine man riding a fine horse and the man told them that there was never a need to be afraid, for all they had to do was to watch the stars and the stars would tell them where their home was. “ For, once you know the right direction, then there’s never a need to be afraid. Fear is something that comes
from inside, from inside your tummies,” the New Teach er said radiantly. “ And good strong children like you have to put food in your tummies. Not fear.” This seemed very sensible, and soon all the children were happy and calm once more. Except Johnny. He hated her. “Now,” said the New Teacher, “ I’ll try to guess your names!” The New Teacher’ll never know all our names! Never! Even Miss Worden often forgot and called a child by another’s name. The children, wide-eyed, shift ed in their seats. But the New Teacher spoke every name! Johnny asked, “ How’d you know our names?” “ That’s easy, Johnny,” the New Teacher said. “ You all sit in the same places every day. I learned your names from a list. I had to work for three whole days to remember your names.” Johnny frowned and sat down, atonished that she had worked three days just to know everyone the first day. But still he hated her. “ Johnny, would you tell me, please, how you start school ?” Johnny stood up reluctantly, “ First we pledge alle giance. . . .” The New Teacher smiled. “ All right. Let’s pledge.” Obediently the children got up and began, “ I pledge allegiance to the flag of—” “ Just a moment,” the New Teacher said. “What does ‘pledge’ mean?” The children stood openmouthed; Miss Worden had never interrupted them. “What does ‘allegiance’ mean?” the New Teacher asked. Mary put up her hand. “ Well, pledge is, ah, well, sort of when you want to do something very good. You pledge you’re going to do something like not suck your thumb ’cause that makes your teeth bend.” “ Very good, Mary. To pledge means to promise. And allegiance?” Silence hung in the room. Then the New Teacher said, “ I think it’s quite wrong for you to have to say something you don’t understand. So let’s sit down and talk about it. What did your other teachers tell you that it meant?” Danny said, “ Miss Worden—well, she never told us. We just hadta learn it and then say it, that’s all.” So the New Teacher explained: “ You are promising support to the flag and saying that it is much more important than you are. How can a flag be more im portant than a real live person?” Johnny broke the silence. “ But the next thing is— well, where it says ‘and to the republic for which it stands.’ That means it’s like a, like a . . . like a sort of sign, isn’t it?”
THE KING'S BUSINESS
22
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