Understood Betsy

by Dorothy Canfield Fisher

  CHAPTER V

  WHAT GRADE IS BETSY?

  After the singing the teacher gave Elizabeth Ann a pile of schoolbooks,some paper, some pencils, and a pen, and told her to set her desk inorder. There were more initials carved inside, another big H. P. with alittle A. P. under it. What a lot of children must have sat there,thought the little girl as she arranged her books and papers. As sheshut down the lid the teacher finished giving some instructions to threeor four little ones and said, "Betsy and Ralph and Ellen, bring yourreading books up here."

  Betsy sighed, took out her third-grade reader, and went with the othertwo up to the battered old bench near the teacher's desk. She knew allabout reading lessons and she hated them, although she loved to read.But reading lessons...! You sat with your book open at some reading thatyou could do with your eyes shut, it was so easy, and you waited andwaited and waited while your classmates slowly stumbled along, readingaloud a sentence or two apiece, until your turn came to stand up andread your sentence or two, which by that time sounded just like nonsensebecause you'd read it over and over so many times to yourself beforeyour chance came. And often you didn't even have a chance to do that,because the teacher didn't have time to get around to you at all, andyou closed your book and put it back in your desk without having openedyour mouth. Reading was one thing Elizabeth Ann had learned to do verywell indeed, but she had learned it all by herself at home from muchreading to herself. Aunt Frances had kept her well supplied withchildren's books from the nearest public library. She often read three aweek--very different, that, from a sentence or two once or twice a week.

  When she sat down on the battered old bench she almost laughed aloud, itseemed so funny to be in a class of only three. There had been forty inher grade in the big brick building. She sat in the middle, the littlegirl whom the teacher had called Ellen on one side, and Ralph on theother. Ellen was very pretty, with fair hair smoothly braided in twolittle pig-tails, sweet, blue eyes, and a clean blue-and-white ginghamdress. Ralph had very black eyes, dark hair, a big bruise on hisforehead, a cut on his chin, and a tear in the knee of his shorttrousers. He was much bigger than Ellen, and Elizabeth Ann thought helooked rather fierce. She decided that she would be afraid of him, andwould not like him at all.

  "Page thirty-two," said the teacher. "Ralph first."

  Ralph stood up and began to read. It sounded very familiar to ElizabethAnn, for he did not read at all well. What was not familiar was that theteacher did not stop him after the first sentence. He read on and ontill he had read a page, the teacher only helping him with the hardestwords.

  "Now Betsy," said the teacher.

  Elizabeth Ann stood up, read the first sentence, and paused, like acaged lion pausing when he comes to the end of his cage.

  "Go on," said the teacher.

  Elizabeth Ann read the next sentence and stopped again, automatically.

  "Go ON," said the teacher, looking at her sharply.

  The next time the little girl paused the teacher laughed outgood-naturedly. "What is the matter with you, Betsy?" she said. "Go ontill I tell you to stop."

  So Elizabeth Ann, very much surprised but very much interested, read on,sentence after sentence, till she forgot they were sentences and justthought of what they meant. She read a whole page and then another page,and that was the end of the selection. She had never read aloud so muchin her life. She was aware that everybody in the room had stoppedworking to listen to her. She felt very proud and less afraid than shehad ever thought she could be in a schoolroom. When she finished,"You read very well!" said the teacher. "Is this very easy for you?"

  "Oh, YES!" said Elizabeth Ann.

  "I guess, then, that you'd better not stay in this class," said theteacher. She took a book out of her desk. "See if you can read that."

  Elizabeth Ann began in her usual school-reading style, very slow andmonotonous, but this didn't seem like a "reader" at all. It was poetry,full of hard words that were fun to try to pronounce, and it was allabout an old woman who would hang out an American flag, even though thetown was full of rebel soldiers. She read faster and faster, gettingmore and more excited, till she broke out with "Halt!" in such a loud,spirited voice that the sound of it startled her and made her stop,fearing that she would be laughed at. But nobody laughed. They were alllistening, very eagerly, even the little ones, with their eyes turnedtoward her.

  "You might as well go on and let us see how it came out," said theteacher, and Betsy finished triumphantly.

  "WELL," said the teacher, "there's no sense in your reading along in thethird reader. After this you'll recite out of the seventh reader withFrank and Harry and Stashie."

  Elizabeth Ann could not believe her ears. To be "jumped" four grades inthat casual way! It wasn't possible! She at once thought, however, ofsomething that would prevent it entirely, and while Ellen was readingher page in a slow, careful little voice, Elizabeth Ann was feelingmiserably that she must explain to the teacher why she couldn't readwith the seventh-grade children. Oh, how she wished she could! When theystood up to go back to their seats she hesitated, hung her head, andlooked very unhappy. "Did you want to say something to me?" asked theteacher, pausing with a bit of chalk in her hand.

  The little girl went up to her desk and said, what she knew it was herduty to confess: "I can't be allowed to read in the seventh reader. Idon't write a bit well, and I never get the mental number-work right. Icouldn't do ANYthing with seventh-grade arithmetic!"

  The teacher looked a little blank and said: "_I_ didn't say anythingabout your number-work! I don't KNOW anything about it! You haven'trecited yet." She turned away and began to write a list of words on theboard. "Betsy, Ralph, and Ellen study their spelling," she said. "Youlittle ones come up for your reading."

  Two little boys and two little girls came forward as Elizabeth Ann beganto con over the words on the board. At first she found she was listeningto the little, chirping voices, as the children straggled with theirreading, instead of studying "doubt, travel, cheese," and the otherwords in her lesson. But she put her hands over her ears, and her mindon her spelling. She wanted to make a good impression with that lesson.After a while, when she was sure she could spell them all correctly, shebegan to listen and look around her. She always "got" her spelling inless time than was allowed the class, and usually sat idle, looking outof the window until that study period was over. But now the moment shestopped staring at the board and moving her lips as she spelled toherself the teacher said, just as though she had been watching her everyminute instead of conducting a class, "Betsy, have you learned yourspelling?"

  "Yes, ma'am, I think so," said Elizabeth Ann, wondering very much whyshe was asked.

  "That's fine," said the teacher. "I wish you'd take little Molly over inthat corner and help her with her reading. She's getting on so muchbetter than the rest of the class that I hate to have her lose her time.Just hear her read the rest of her little story, will you, and don'thelp her unless she's really stuck."

  Elizabeth Ann was startled by this request, which was unheard of in herexperience. She was very uncertain of herself as she sat down on a lowchair in the corner of the schoolroom away from the desks, with thelittle child leaning on her knee. And yet she was not exactly afraid,either, because Molly was such a shy little roly-poly thing, with hercrop of yellow curls, and her bright blue eyes very serious as shelooked hard at the book and began: "Once there was a rat. It was a fatrat." No, it was impossible to be frightened of such a funny littlegirl, who peered so earnestly into the older child's face to make sureshe was doing her lesson right.

  Elizabeth Ann had never had anything to do with children younger thanherself, and she felt very pleased and important to have anybody look upto HER! She put her arm around Molly's square, warm, fat little body andgave her a squeeze. Molly snuggled up closer; and the two children puttheir heads together over the printed page, Elizabeth Ann correctingMolly very gently indeed when she made a mistake, and waiting patientlywhen she hesitated. She had so fresh in her m
ind her own suffering fromquick, nervous corrections that she took the greatest pleasure inspeaking quietly and not interrupting the little girl more than wasnecessary. It was fun to teach, LOTS of fun! She was surprised when theteacher said, "Well, Betsy, how did Molly do?"

  "Oh, is the time up?" said Elizabeth Ann. "Why, she does beautifully, Ithink, for such a little thing."

  "Do you suppose," said the teacher thoughtfully, just as though Betsywere a grown-up person, "do you suppose she could go into the secondreader, with Eliza? There's no use keeping her in the first if she'sready to go on."

  Elizabeth Ann's head whirled with this second light-handed juggling withthe sacred distinction between the grades. In the big brick schoolhousenobody EVER went into another grade except at the beginning of a newyear, after you'd passed a lot of examinations. She had not known thatanybody could do anything else. The idea that everybody took a year to agrade, no MATTER what! was so fixed in her mind that she felt as thoughthe teacher had said: "How would you like to stop being nine years oldand be twelve instead! And don't you think Molly would better be eightinstead of six?"

  However, just then her class in arithmetic was called, so that she hadno more time to be puzzled. She came forward with Ralph and Ellen again,very low in her mind. She hated arithmetic with all her might, and shereally didn't understand a thing about it! By long experience she hadlearned to read her teachers' faces very accurately, and she guessed bytheir expression whether the answer she gave was the right one. And thatwas the only way she could tell. You never heard of any other child whodid that, did you?

  They had mental arithmetic, of course (Elizabeth Ann thought it just herluck!), and of course it was those hateful eights and sevens, and ofcourse right away poor Betsy got the one she hated most, 7x8. She neverknew that one! She said dispiritedly that it was 54, remembering vaguelythat it was somewhere in the fifties. Ralph burst out scornfully, "56!"and the teacher, as if she wanted to take him down for showing off,pounced on him with 9 x 8. He answered, without drawing breath, 72.Elizabeth Ann shuddered at his accuracy. Ellen, too, rose to theoccasion when she got 6 x 7, which Elizabeth Ann could sometimesremember and sometimes not. And then, oh horrors! It was her turn again!Her turn had never before come more than twice during a mentalarithmetic lesson. She was so startled by the swiftness with which thequestion went around that she balked on 6 x 6, which she knew perfectly.And before she could recover Ralph had answered and had rattled out a108 in answer to 9 x 12; and then Ellen slapped down an 84 on top of 7 x12. Good gracious! Who could have guessed, from the way they read, theycould do their tables like this! She herself missed on 7 x 7 and wasready to cry. After this the teacher didn't call on her at all, butshowered questions down on the other two, who sent the answers back withsickening speed.

  After the lesson the teacher said, smiling, "Well, Betsy, you were rightabout your arithmetic. I guess you'd better recite with Eliza for awhile. She's doing second-grade work. I shouldn't be surprised if, aftera good review with her, you'd be able to go on with the third-gradework."

  Elizabeth Ann fell back on the bench with her mouth open. She feltreally dizzy. What crazy things the teacher said! She felt as though shewas being pulled limb from limb.

  "What's the matter?" asked the teacher, seeing her bewildered fact.

  "Why--why," said Elizabeth Ann, "I don't know what I am at all. If I'msecond-grade arithmetic and seventh-grade reading and third-gradespelling, what grade AM I?"

  The teacher laughed at the turn of her phrase. "YOU aren't any grade atall, no matter where you are in school. You're just yourself, aren'tyou? What difference does it make what grade you're in! And what's theuse of your reading little baby things too easy for you just because youdon't know your multiplication table?"

  "Well, for goodness' SAKES!" ejaculated Elizabeth Ann, feeling very muchas though somebody had stood her suddenly on her head.

  "Why, what's the matter?" asked the teacher again.

  This time Elizabeth Ann didn't answer, because she herself didn't knowwhat the matter was. But I do, and I'll tell you. The matter was thatnever before had she known what she was doing in school. She had alwaysthought she was there to pass from one grade to another, and she wasever so startled to get a little glimpse of the fact that she was thereto learn how to read and write and cipher and generally use her mind, soshe could take care of herself when she came to be grown up. Of course,she didn't really know that till she did come to be grown up, but shehad her first dim notion of it in that moment, and it made her feel theway you do when you're learning to skate and somebody pulls away thechair you've been leaning on and says, "Now, go it alone!"

  The teacher waited a minute, and then, when Elizabeth Ann didn't sayanything more, she rang a little bell. "Recess time," she said, and asthe children marched out and began putting on their wraps she followedthem into the cloak-room, pulled on a warm, red cap and a red sweater,and ran outdoors herself. "Who's on my side!" she called, and thechildren came darting out after her. Elizabeth Ann had dreaded the firstrecess time with the strange children, but she had no time to feel shy,for in a twinkling she was on one end of a long rope with a lot of herschoolmates, pulling with all her might against the teacher and two ofthe big boys. Nobody had looked at her curiously, nobody had saidanything to her beyond a loud, "Come on, Betsy!" from Ralph, who was atthe head on their side.

  They pulled and they pulled, digging their feet into the ground andbracing themselves against the rocks which stuck up out of theplayground. Sometimes the teacher's side yanked them along by quickjerks, and then they'd all set their feet hard when Ralph shouted out,"Now, ALL TOGETHER!" and they'd slowly drag the other side back. And allthe time everybody was shouting and yelling together with theexcitement. Betsy was screaming too, and when a wagon passing by stoppedand a big, broad-shouldered farmer jumped down laughing, put the end ofthe rope over his shoulder, and just walked off with the whole lot ofthem till he had pulled them clear off their feet, Elizabeth Ann foundherself rolling over and over with a breathless, squirming mass ofchildren, her shrill laughter rising even above the shouts of merrimentof the others. She laughed so she could hardly get up on her feet again,it was such an unexpected ending to the contest.

  The big farmer was laughing too. "You ain't so smart as you THINK youare, are you!" he jeered at them good-naturedly. Then he started,yelling "WHOA there!" to his horses, which had begun to walk on. He hadto run after them with all his might, and just climbed into the back ofthe wagon and grabbed the reins the very moment they broke into a trot.The children laughed, and Ralph shouted after him, "Hi, there, UncleNate! Who's not so smart as he thinks he is, NOW!" He turned to thelittle girls near him. "They 'most got away from him THAT time!" hesaid. "He's awful foolish about leaving them standing while he's funningor something. He thinks he's awful funny, anyhow. Some day they'll runaway on him and THEN where'll he be?"

  Elizabeth Ann was thinking to herself that this was one of the queerestthings that had happened to her even in this queer place. Never, whynever once, had any grown-up, passing the playground of the big brickbuilding, DREAMED of such a thing as stopping for a minute to play. Theynever even looked at the children, any more than if they were in anotherworld. In fact she had felt the school was in another world.

  "Ralph, it's your turn to get the water," said the teacher, handing hima pail. "Want to go along?" said Ralph gruffly to Ellen and Betsy. Heled the way and the little girls walked after him. Now that she was outof a crowd Elizabeth Ann felt all her shyness come down on her like ablack cloud, drying up her mouth and turning her hands and feet cold asice. Into one of these cold hands she felt small, warm fingers slide.She looked down and there was little Molly trotting by her side, turningher blue eyes up trustfully. "Teacher says I can go with you if you'lltake care of me," she said. "She never lets us first-graders go withoutsomebody bigger to help us over the log."

  As she spoke they came to a small, clear, swift brook, crossed by a bigwhite-birch log. Elizabeth Ann was horribly afraid to set
foot on it,but with little Molly's hand holding tightly to hers she was ashamed tosay she was afraid. Ralph skipped across, swinging the pail to show howeasy it was for him. Ellen followed more slowly, and then--oh, don't youwish Aunt Frances could have been there!--Betsy shut her teeth togetherhard, put Molly ahead of her, took her hand, and started across. As amatter of fact Molly went along as sure-footed as a little goat, havingdone it a hundred times, and it was she who steadied Elizabeth Ann. Butnobody knew this, Molly least of all.

  Ralph took a drink out of a tin cup standing on a stump near by, dippedthe pail into a deep, clear pool, and started back to the school. Ellentook a drink and offered the cup to Betsy, very shyly, without lookingup. After they had all three had a drink they stood there for a moment,much embarrassed. Then Ellen said, in a very small voice, "Do you likedolls with yellow hair the best?"

  Now it happened that Elizabeth Ann had very positive convictions on thispoint which she had never spoken of, because Aunt Frances didn't REALLYcare about dolls. She only pretended to, to be company for her littleniece.

  "No, I DON'T!" answered the little girl emphatically. "I get just sickand tired of always seeing them with that old, bright-yellow hair! Ilike them to have brown hair, just the way most little girls really do!"

  Ellen lifted her eyes and smiled radiantly. "Oh, so do I!" she said."And that lovely old doll your folks have has got brown hair. Will youlet me play with her some time?"

  "My folks?" said Elizabeth Ann blankly.

  "Why yes, your Aunt Abigail and your Uncle Henry."

  "Have they got a DOLL?" said Betsy, thinking this was the very climax ofPutney queerness.

  "Oh my, yes!" said Molly, eagerly. "She's the one Mrs. Putney had whenshe was a little girl. And she's got the loveliest clothes! She's in thehair-trunk under the eaves in the attic. They let me take her down oncewhen I was there with Mother. And Mother said she guessed, now a littlegirl had come there to live, they'd let her have her down all the time.I'll bring mine over next Saturday, if you want me to. Mine's got yellowhair, but she's real pretty anyhow. If Father's going to mill that day,he can leave me there for the morning."

  [Illustration with caption: Betsy shut her teeth together hard, andstarted across.]

  Elizabeth Ann had not understood more than one word in five of this, butjust then the school-bell rang and they went back, little Molly helpingElizabeth Ann over the log and thinking she was being helped, as before.

  They ran along to the little building, and there I'm going to leavethem, because I think I've told enough about their school for ONE while.It was only a poor, rough, little district school anyway, that noSuperintendent of Schools would have looked at for a minute, except tosniff.