Old Miss Gracing by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 7
Miss Gracing was compelled to try to break the ice, out of sheer boredom. The isolated repetition was getting to her. She decided that in class she would initiate a conversation with the kids, getting them to talk about their impressions of ghosts, monsters, skeletons and the like, which would soon be on display in costume. If Zeke wouldn’t volunteer his thoughts, she would call on him.
As she walked to school that day she pondered what questions or thoughts she could throw at the kids that might elicit interesting responses. She started by mentioning the proximity of Halloween and asking if everyone had picked out their costume. Her response came in a generally excited nodding of heads, mostly yeses, but there were some side to side movements, too. Miss Gracing pointed at Jeremiah and said;
“What will you be?”
He said; “A cowboy.”
Many of the class looked at each other, probably thinking, but not willing to say that; “Every cowboy I’ve seen in movies and television is white.”
Miss Gracing said; “Why do you want to be a cowboy?”
“Because they’re heroes.”
“Some are bad guys, aren’t they?”
Jeremiah was puzzled for a few seconds, then said; “I’ll shoot them.” Most of the class laughed.
“Which ones will you shoot? How do you know who the bad guys are?”
“They’re the ones who steal someone’s cattle or water.”
“Any others?”
“Not that I can think of now. If we could get a TV in here, I’ll point them out to you when I see them.”
Everyone, including Miss Gracing, laughed at that one. She said; “Very, very good, Jeremiah. How about you, Emily? What kind of costume do you have?”
A white girl with longish blond hair, dressed in a simple green blouse and a gray skirt with poodles on it answered; “I have a witch costume.”
“What do you like about witches?”
“They’re powerful.”
“Are you a good witch?”
“Sure,” Emily must have detected something wrong with her answer, because her eyes riveted on the ceiling and she was compelled to offer a clarification; “Most of the time.” She was addressed in the same fashion as Jeremiah. She giggled and Miss Gracing said; “Very good.” She then pointed at Zeke and said;
“How about you, Zeke?”
He said; “I’m going to be a hobo.”
She was mentally stimulated and surprised at numerous levels. She flashed back to her own days of riding railroad cars, which was not a first choice and wondered why anyone would even want to play with the thought. She said; “What do you know about hobos?”
They’re free and they don’t have to work.”
Zeke got his first taste of being a successful comedian without knowing that he said anything funny.
Miss Gracing said; “I can understand wanting to be free, but what’s so attractive about not working?”
He thought the answer was so obvious; he paused for a while, trying to think of some other way to answer. He finally did say; “Everyone I know doesn’t like their job at all and complain about it all the time.”
“I like mine.”
“What job is that?”
“This ........... Teaching.”
Zeke had a revelation. He said; “No, a job is like going to the factory every day. What you have, I’d call a ..... I don’t know what I’d call it ..... No offense intended.” He got nervous as his instincts told him that he was again on the verge of trouble. As Miss Gracing opened her mouth to speak Zeke blurted; “What you do is more like being a mother.”
She was very flattered at his analogy and did herself sometimes think of her pupils as the children she never had.
She said; “No, Zeke, this is a job, too. I get paid for it and I like teaching, or rather I should say, trying to teach you kids.”
“Then a job can be fun?” He looked around the room in an attempt to gauge the other kids’ reactions.
Emphasizing the first word, she said; “Some of the time.”
She got the five year olds laughing at the interchange. “Do you think you could enjoy being a teacher?”
“No,” his tone indicating that this was the dumbest question he ever answered. He chuckled.
“Why not?”
His laughter stopped and he stared at her seriously questioning face. Zeke was uncomfortable with the persistent quiz, because he thought that his honest answer might be insulting and he didn’t want to do that to her. He liked her a lot. He also couldn’t logically make a case for it, but he sensed that he was in danger of getting Miss Gracing and his mother into another dispute, so rather than saying that he wasn’t comfortable with telling people what to do, he said; “I don’t know anything worth teaching.”
“Maybe not.” She again got the comedy award for that one, but went on to say; “Maybe not yet. But, the bigger point is
that even if it isn’t teaching, it’s possible to have some reasonably enjoyable occupation. Job does not equal misery.”
“Unless you pronounce Job with a long ‘O.’”
This was too much for Miss Gracing. She had numerous possible thoughts and directions to take this conversation, but of the most significance to her was the realization that it was in her own best interest not to make extensive overt contact with the outside world, when she wasn’t able to control a conversation with a baby. Or was he a baby? Maybe he was some weird forty year old midget. When he saw Miss Gracing batting her eyelashes and staring into space, Zeke added; “Seriously, I’m glad that you’ve taught me that all jobs aren’t miserable.
I won’t mind growing up as much.”
Neither realized it, but they were both off on their trip and she asked; “What does your father do for a living?”
“In the summer he plays softball. In the winter he fixes machines in some factory.”
Again, she didn’t have a single clear path and could have gone in different directions. She also surmised that she may be spending too much time with Zeke, as detected by the other children, so she tried to wrap it up with; “Does he like either of those jobs?”
Zeke said; “I don’t think so.”
She was very surprised at his response and asked; “What does he dislike about playing softball?”
Zeke answered; “I don’t think he dislikes playing softball, but he’s dissatisfied with the results.”
“He doesn’t play well?”
“I really don’t know how he plays. The problem is that his team always comes out second and my mother gets on him for it.”
“Second isn’t too shabby.”
“That’s what he says, too.”
Miss Gracing decided to bite her tongue and quit right there. It seemed as though they could talk forever, but she again saw that she was risking stepping on mama’s toes. She pointed at Cheryl, a tall thin black girl with either an angry or a sad face and said; “Cheryl, what are you going to be for Halloween?”
Without any detectable emotion Cheryl answered; “The same thing I am today. My mom tells me we got no money for costumes.”
This was proving to be quite a challenging day for Miss Gracing and it was only 10 o’clock. After she offered to help Cheryl make a costume after class, she called on Arnold, a chubby Jewish boy with glasses. He answered the question with
“A ghost.” Miss Gracing was convinced that she would be better off shying away from the “Why?” questions and as she was
fumbling around for a substitute, Arnold anticipated the next question and said; “Because, ghosts can be invisible and hide.”
The disbelief, surprise and sadness riveted on her face was unmistakable to the kids. She could feel it herself and abruptly decided not to continue the costume routine, picking up her scissors and saying; “I think today would be a great day to make baskets.” Easter was a long way off, but she didn’t feel up to singing.
Miss Gracing went home to her nightmares that day and she didn’t have to fall asleep to find them. She remembered a pretty, tall, bright young girl of fifteen, who had the prescription for happiness filled out. It seemed a reasonable expectation at the time, as it wouldn’t require any good luck or heroics. It just needed a few people to act in their own enlightened self-interest. Of course, she subsequently discovered the flaw in the logic. There is no illumination.
She hoped the attitudes displayed by her students today didn’t portend beliefs they would retain. But, how does one even attempt to break the cycle of family re-enforced defeatism.
The parents had much more time with the children than she did.
She considered it logically possible that Zeke’s severe crying on the first two days of school were due to his perceived initiation into adult life, eventually leading to a long procession of drudging to the factory and coming home to a
complaining wife. She was particularly drawn to him, finding his crying bittersweet and his commentaries engaging. How could she help him? She had done so poorly with her own life, that she must certainly not know the answer. She derisively laughed to herself. One thing she did seem to know well was how to escape. Maybe she should take him away somewhere. She partially recalled the line from some old song, which said;
“Gentleness, her only need. So far beyond her reach. Led her on and endless path of gentleness to teach.”
She glanced down at the floor finally hearing the meows of a still unfed Simon. She opened a can of ocean whitefish for him with difficulty, as he was so anxious that he hopped up on the kitchen counter, getting in the way of her every movement.
After accidentally clinking Simon on his persistent head three times, she managed to navigate the food into a plastic dish that she put on the floor.
She felt weary, walked into the bedroom and took off all her clothes. In the windowless room she did an extensive evaluation of her 54 year old body, in a six foot mirror on a pedestal, posing in numerous stances. She was far from displeased and she got under the covers, soon joined by a contented cat with a full belly. As the calming darkness started to envelope her mind, she was visualizing a long, interesting train ride with a little boy.
When Zeke got home he excitedly and foolishly talked to his mother about school that day, focusing on the conversation with Miss Gracing that stemmed from his intended hobo costume. It was impossible for him to recount the exact interchange, but he was able to inform his mother that his future didn’t have to include being relegated to some dirty, low paying factory job.
Mom was less than enthusiastic to hear the good news and coupling that with her already uneasy feeling toward the teacher, she said; “Don’t tell me that someday you are going to be President of the United States. Wait till your father hears that one.”
“I didn’t say I was going to be President of the United States. I just said that I learned that jobs don’t have to be misery. They can be something like play.”
“Fat chance on that one. Ask anyone around here.”
“I already have and I’ve told you what Miss Gracing said.”
“MISS Gracing knows so much about careers. How come she’s not MRS. Gracing?”
Zeke had no idea of what to answer, nor did he understand the insult that his mother thought she was trying to make. The things that he thought he had learned when his mother first met Miss Gracing came back to him in a rudely awakening jolt. He thought; “Sometimes I am just so stupid.”
Luckily for him, his father came home from work, opening the door and seeing his wife and son in the middle of some kind of interchange. Zeke’s luck proved to be very short lived when his father said; “Is there some kind of a problem?”
Zeke thought; “You don’t have to encourage her.”
Mom said; “Sure is. That knife wielding teacher of his is telling him he’s too good to work in a factory.”
Zeke animatedly said; “That’s not what she said at all.”
Dad said; “Quiet, let your mother speak.”
Mom continued; “She’s got him thinking that he should be President of the United States.”
Zeke again interjected; “That’s not true. All she said is that a job doesn’t have to be miserable.”
Dad showed Zeke his right hand and said; “Don’t interrupt your mother again.”
Zeke said; “I won’t if she tells the truth for a change.”
As his father half-heartedly made an attempt to slap him, Zeke ran crying to his bed and jumped on it face first.
Mom said; “I’m going to have to go straighten out Miss Gracing tomorrow.”
Dad said; “Sounds like a good idea.” He was relieved that he wouldn’t be required to wade through any more interpretations of interpretations, after his long day of numbing drudgery. He sprawled out on the couch in front of the television, blaring
out something he couldn’t comprehend about Russia’s space program, while his wife blared on about Miss Gracing. He listened to neither and stared at the concerned commentator.