(Continuing Stephanie’s response.)

But sometimes I guess they don’t have much choice. Like if they have lost their jobs and they don’t have much money. I think it would be sad to live like that and I am glad my Daddy has a good job so we can live in a nice house and have nice things.

Your class made me see what it would be like to not have anything and to see other people get things. I wouldn’t like that, but I guess I needed to see it, so thank you Mr. McCrae for showing me.

Rosa had written:

We used to have a lot at Christmas until my daddy lost his job, but we are still luky I guess cause we have more than some other poeple have  We hav plenty to eat even if it is beans alot of the time. I like beans anyway  and if I don’t get nothing for chirismas this year thats alright because I got a lot last year.

It would be easy, Neil thought, to see Stephanie as spoiled and Rosa as some kind of angel, but that wasn’t so. They were both just sweet eleven year old girls who hadn’t had much experience in the world. Giving them some of that experience was Neil’s job.

# # #

Bill Campbell showed up for a surprise evaluation on Monday the fifth. He came in as the tardy bell was ringing and said, “I want to see the children read. If this isn’t the hour you have it scheduled, tell me and I will come back, but I want to see it today.”

Neil said, “I normally read to them for about ten minutes and then they read.”

Campbell sat down at the back of the class and waited, clipboard in hand.

Neil went ahead with the morning’s work. He read to them for ten minutes, then told them to get out their reading books. They took them and moved with no further command to separate areas of the room.

Bill Campbell sat up and frowned. He caught Neil’s eye, but Neil only shrugged.

Neil worked with each reading group in turn. Bill Campbell sat silently, making occasional notes on his clipboard, and twice he moved over to sit close beside a reading group. When the period was almost over, he left as silently as he had come.

Neil watched his departing back and sighed. Olivia said, “What’s the matter, Mr. McCrae?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Lauren, its your turn to read.”

# # #

When Neil went to the teachers’ lounge for coffee at recess, there was a note in his mailbox that said: Meet with me after school about your evaluation. He handed the note to Carmen and Pearl and said, “I’m screwed now. Bill came in unexpectedly this morning and found me teaching reading in leveled groups.”

Pearl reached over and solemnly shook his hand. She said, “It has been really nice knowing you, Neil. I’m sure you will enjoy teaching in Alaska next year, or maybe Timbuktu.”

“You told me to do it!”

With the solemnity of Colonel North testifying before Congress, she said, “I’m sorry. I don’t remember that conversation ever taking place.”

Carmen laughed. “Face up to it like a man,” she said. “I’m sure he will provide a blindfold and a last cigar.”

Bill Campbell was less amused. At their meeting he said, “I didn’t send you to that conference so you could go against everything they taught you.”

“What they taught didn’t make sense.”

“Anne Marie Chang has been teaching and researching reading for twenty-five years. She knows what she is talking about.” more tomorrow

When they came back, Oscar Teixeira accused him of deception by announcing, “Mr. McCrae, this wasn’t a real party and I never did get my candy!”

“You’re right. It isn’t and you didn’t. This was something I cooked up to teach you something. We will have a real party on the twenty-third, and you will get your share of the candy in about five more minutes.

“Meanwhile, I want you all to think back to how you felt when you got your candy.”

Their faces told him that they remembered, and he could plot who had and hadn’t gotten candy by their smiles and frowns.

“All right, who can tell me why I gave more candy to some than to others?”

” ‘Cause you wanted to,” Tony replied.

Neil ignored him. Finally Sean Kelly said, “You gave lots of candy to the good kids and not much to the ones who aren’t good.”

“How much did you get, Sean?”

Those who sat near him and had seen his single piece of candy, laughed. Sean held up one finger.

“Sean, do you think you are a bad kid?”

“Well, I have been getting in trouble with Duarte.”

“Yes, you have, but that doesn’t make you a bad kid. And that wasn’t why I distributed the candy the way I did. I had another reason in mind.”

Duarte said in sudden disbelief, “You gave the Mexican kids more than you did the white kids!”

“Did I? If I did it was an accident. Or rather, it was because my reason has something to do with how your parents live.”

Suddenly Elanor had a realization. She shouted out, “You gave the poor kids more than you did the rich kids!” Then she raised her hand, because she had forgotten to do so in her excitement at understanding something the “smart” kids had missed.

“Elanor, you are absolutely right.”

Elanor beamed.

Stephanie half raised her hand, withdrew it, then raised it again. Neil was pleased at this crack in her normal self-confidence. He nodded, and she said, “I guess it was fair that you gave the poor kids more candy. But now you said you are going to make it all even.”

“That’s right, I am. I do like to be fair.”

Stephanie squirmed in a perplexity of near understanding. Every atom of her body was involved in the moment. She said, “But then — why did you do it?”

“I didn’t do it for the poor kids.”

She just shook her head. She still didn’t get it.

“I did it for the rich kids.”

She was still blank, but trying so hard to understand.

“I did it so the kids who always get everything could just once, in one tiny way, know what it feels like to see others get something they want while they get nothing.”

# # #

Neil instructed his class to evaluate the lesson. If they wanted, they could look at it like Mr. Campbell would, or they could tell how it had affected them personally. Most of them wrote willingly; kids always do when they have something they really want to say.

That night he read their papers.  Stephanie had said:

I always get a lot for Christmas and for birthdays. I always say thank you to my parents. I really do appreciate them. They are very good to me and I know it. 

Sometimes I see other kids parents being mean to them. They won’t let them play baseball or buy them things and I think how sad it would be to be like that.

more tomorrow

Daddy said that what money we have will go to buy toys for the little kids. That’s OK, I don’t mind.

Neil lay back on his couch and wiped his eyes.

He remembered Carmen’s voice the first day they had looked at his students’ folders. Carmen had told him about Rosa. Then she had passed him Stephanie’s folder, and had said, “This is Rosa’s competition. She will take all your time if you let yourself be seduced by success. Stephanie will sound smart because she had mastered English; Rosa will sound stupid because she has not.

“The Stephanies of this world always get more than their fair share.”

He thought about them for a long time. He loved them both, not merely in a vague way as he did all his students, but intensely and personally because they had both come early to his attention and he knew them well. Stephanie knew her own worth; her parents had taught it to her early. But Rosa was one of the meek ones. She desperately needed for someone to hold her, and tell her she was good and pure and valuable.

He could not.

Even if the shadow of Alice Hamilton’s accusation had not hung over him, he still could not have touched Rosa, or any of his girls. Carmen could and did, Fiona did when she was so inclined, Pearl mothered them all, and students came from everywhere to be hugged by Donna Clementi. But no student ventured near Glen Ulrich; and Tom Wright, young and friendly as he was, kept them at arm’s length.

Women teachers can hug and touch. It is expected of them. It is “motherly”. But let a man teacher touch his girls and he is a lecher; let him touch his boys and he is a homosexual.

It isn’t fair, but it is the way of the world.

After a while, Neil went to his tape collection and put on Art Garfunkle’s first solo album. He juggled the fast forward until he found the cut he wanted, then listened to it twice through. Then he took pencil and paper and ran it through until he had the words copied down, then typed them on a ditto master. 

# # #

On his way to school the next morning, Neil stopped to buy a bag of Christmas candies. The first hour, the students read, and when they returned from their break to start the second period, Neil announced that they were going to have an early Christmas party.

That met with uniform approval, and none of it was silent. He added, “Just stay in your seats. Rafael, please give everyone a paper towel to use as a plate. I have some Christmas candy I’ll distribute as soon as Rafael has finished.”

Rafael worked quickly and a festive atmosphere filled the room. Neil waited until the boy had taken his seat again, then went around giving out candy.

He gave Duarte one piece, Sean one piece, Rafael five pieces, Laura Diaz eight pieces, Raul Fuentes six pieces, Stephanie one piece, and Oscar no candy at all; and so on, around the room.

As soon as they noticed, the fireworks began.

“Hey, you got more than I did.”

“Mr. McCrae, I only got one piece!” (This Neil ignored.)

“Get your hand out of my pile.” — “But you got more than I did.” — “So what? Its mine now.”

“Mr. McCrae . . .?”

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“That’s no fair!”

“That’s cheap!”

“Mr. McCrae,” Stephanie Hagstrom demanded, standing bolt upright beside her seat in surprise and dismay, “what are you doing? You can’t give some people more candy than others. You just can’t.”

All the children were looking at him now. He nodded sagely and said, “Why can’t I?”

“It’s not fair.” more tomorrow

Probably all of them had; a third of them remembered it well enough to raise their hands.

“Who can tell me what their previous teacher told them at evaluation time?”

Tony Caraveli thought he could remember. Neil distrusted the devilish look in his eye, but told him to go ahead.

“Make me look good!” Tony said.

The children all laughed, but it had a nervous and restrained sound. Bill Campbell did not react, which made them more nervous. Neil said, “Whoever told you that was probably joking. Who else can tell me?”

Sabrina said, “Ms. Thompson told us to just be ourselves and act like there wasn’t anyone in the room.”

“Good. That is just what I want you to do. Ignore Mr. Campbell; it won’t hurt his feelings.”

This time the children’s laughter was more relaxed, and Bill acknowledged it with a wave of his hand.

Neil read to his class for twenty minutes from The House Without a Christmas Tree. He led a discussion about the story, and from that drew the children into talking about how their families celebrated the season. Neil made notes from their discussion on the chalkboard, then told them to write a paper on Christmas in their homes.

Bill left at the end of the hour. The instant he was gone, Greg Ellis’ hand shot up. “Mr. McCrae,” he demanded in honest concern, “how can you stand that?”

Neil had to grin. “Greg, I stand that for exactly the same reason you take math tests. Because I have to. But, believe me, it’s no fun!”

When he checked his mailbox at noon, there was a neatly hand written summary of Bill Campbell’s evaluation. At the bottom, he had written, “Generally a good lesson. Next time, I want to hear the children read!”

Neil thought, You just think you do!

# # #

Neil’s lesson plan had been worthwhile but unexceptional. He had not intended for it to be earth shaking, but when he sat at home that night reading the papers, he found that he had cut close to the bone.

Casey Kruger wrote:

We don’t hav Christmas at our house.  My parents say that it is a peagan rittul.  Jesus was born in a stabul and din’t have any presents, so we don’t have any present either.  I wish we did.

I would really like to have a real Christmas this year.

Lauren Turner wrote:

Every year we go to my granmas house for christmas.  she has a great big living room where we all put our presents.  I get presents from my mom and dad but nobody else gives them to me.  I mean I get presents, but my brother always gets twice as many and they are always neater than mine and i don’t think its fair ! ! ! !

Oscar Teixeira wrote:

My Dad gets me chemistry sets and sport shirts and ties and last year he got me a calculator.  What I really want is a baseball mitt and a football.

Stephanie Hagstrom’s paper was well written, in beautiful handwriting, and decorated with candy canes in all four corners.  She detailed what presents she got last year, told how happy she was to have Christmas with her parents, and told what she expected to get this year.

Rosa Alvarez’s paper was not so well written, although it showed great progress for her. It said:

This year I don’t think we will have much of a Chirstmas because my Daddy has lost his job and Mommy’s job at the bank doesn’t give us much money. My Oldest brother has gone back to Mexico, but Daddy said that what money we have will go to buy toys for the little kids. That’s OK, I don’t mind.

more tomorrow

Evaluation

Things rolled smoothly through November. Once Carmen decided that she did not hate Neil on sight, their relationship blossomed. They saw a good deal of each other after school, and at least once a week they went dancing or to a movie. Neil still felt the same fire he had felt at their first meeting, and she clearly had some of the same feelings, but there was something missing. They were physically attracted to each other, but not intimate; they were friendly, but not yet friends. Some barrier still stood between them. Neil had no idea what it was, and if Carmen knew, she was not telling.

Tony Caraveli got in trouble in Glen Ulrich’s class and was suspended for three days. Duarte Zavala and Sean Kelly lived in a constant state of non-violent cold war. Neil’s other minor trouble makers got warnings and an occasional detention, but, overall, things had settled down for the winter. They all knew each other now. Everyone knew where the boundaries were and accepted them. Spring would shake things up again, but for now there was a season of peace.

November was a prime month. Everything had settled into a routine, and the children did their work more willingly than they ever had; or ever would again.

They were growing fast. Even in the few months he had been there, Neil had seen a change in their bodies and in their behavior. A few of them had lost the baby-fat look that had characterized them at the beginning of the year. Hormones were beginning to kick in. By the end of the year, they would be a whole new breed, with new interests, a new outlook, and new problems.

# # #

Near the end of November, Neil found a letter in his school mailbox. It informed him that since he was a first year teacher, a formal evaluation of his teaching techniques would take place during December. He was invited to submit the two dates he preferred to be evaluated, and was informed that there would be an additional three unannounced visits.

Carmen was standing beside him when he read it. He passed it to her and made a face. “I hate evaluations,” he said.

She smiled in commiseration. “We all do.”

“Yes, but we aren’t all leveling our students behind the superintendent’s back.”

“True.”

There are few things more nerve racking to teachers than evaluations. First of all, they are subjective. If the teacher shares the same philosophy as the evaluator, it is hard to get a bad rating; if they are at odds over what should be taking place in the classroom, a bad rating is almost guaranteed. Second, much of any day’s teaching depends on luck. If the children are in a good mood, motivated, and if the day’s lesson happens to be interesting, they will make the teacher look good. But if the day’s lesson is inherently dull — and not everything worth learning is necessarily fun to learn — then they will make the teacher look bad no matter how well he prepares and delivers his lesson.

Neil wanted to get the evaluations over with, so he invited Bill Campbell in for the morning of the first of December.

On the appointed day Bill came earlier than Neil had expected and sat down before the tardy bell had rung. The more mature students tried to look at him without seeming to do so. The others just stared. Neil rapped the desk for attention and took roll. Then he said, “I had intended to tell you today that Mr. Campbell would be coming by for evaluations, but he has gotten here sooner than I had expected. How many of you have been through these teacher evaluations before?” more tomorrow

It was depressing, and the other papers were worse. Much worse.

The grammar and spelling was bad enough, but the images were horrid. Neil had expected ghoulies and ghosties and things that go bump in the night. What he got was torture and dismemberment. Given the movies that kids watch, it should not have shocked him, but it did. Neil carried the same images of violence in his own head. Television assured that. But in Neil, that violence lay over a bedrock foundation of images of kindness and decency, the heritage of his own youth. These violent images were all today’s children had to think and feel with.

He drove home, deeply depressed, and nothing would have pleased him more than to lock his door against the world. But evening was coming on and the pack was out, moving from house to house to sweetly extort their bags of loot.

Neil arranged the bowl of candies near the door and turned on the shower. Before he could undress, the first of night’s legions arrived. He fed a pirate and a sheeted ghost, then went back toward the shower. He never made it; the doorbell stopped him short. Three tries later, he managed to get far enough to turn the shower off, and for an hour he fed the ghoulies. By eight-thirty, the crowd had tapered off and Neil was almost out of candy. He turned out all the lights and sat in the darkened room, hoping the world would just go away. It did not. Ten minutes later, there was a ringing at his doorbell. He ignored it, but it rang again. And again.

Finally, he went to the door. Again he was confronted by masked faces, that shouted, “Trick or treat!” He fished out the last of his candy and distributed it, trying to smile, and then said, “That’s it. I’m out of goodies.”

The crew giggled and nudged each other. Spiderman said, “Don’t you know who we are?”

He had not expected to know any of his callers. He was too many miles from Kiernan School for any of his students to come to his apartment, and he didn’t know any of the local kids. Then Cinderella slipped off her domino mask and Linda Muir stared up at him, laughing. The other masks came off of Shelly Gibson, Stephanie Hagstrom, and Larry Whitlock. Neil leaned down to look closely at the Incredible Hulk’s green painted face and saw that it was Sean Kelly.

Fiona Kelly was waving from the parking lot. Her station wagon was standing with all its doors open. Neil grinned and waved back.

“It wouldn’t have been Halloween if we hadn’t come to see you,” Stephanie said.

Linda added, “That was a great story today. Bump, BUMP.  Bump, BUMP!” She grabbed her chest as if to stop her heart from pounding so loudly.

They filed down the steps, pushing at each other and giggling. Neil waved one last time to Fiona after she had herded them back into the car, then turned to his delayed shower feeling quite human again. more Monday