The Old Régime

IT was the opening day of the Millerstown school, already two weeks after the usual time. The Virginia creeper along the pike was scarlet, the tall corn in the Weygandt fields — tree-high, it seemed to the youngest children — rustled in the cool September wind, and above, the blue sky arched, immeasurably distant. It seemed good to be getting back to winter tasks. The fields and hills were not quite so friendly as they had been a week before.

For generations there had been a wild scramble for seats on the first day of school. The earliest comers had first choice, and the triumph of having secured a “ back seat ” was not entirely shattered by the later and punitive shifting which befell them.

No one but the teacher could unlock the front door. There was another way to get in, however, through the dark cellar, where at recess Oliver Kuhns played “ Bosco, the Wild Man, Eats ’em Alive,” as his father had done before him, then up through a trap-door to the schoolroom. Lithe, swarthy Oliver was usually first, then the two Fackenthals and Billy Knerr and Jimmie Weygandt and Coonie Schnable. Coonie might be found bartering his seat to a later comer on as good terms as he could make.

This morning, as usual, it was the rear seats which were at a premium. Ollie Kuhns flung himself into one, and the next three boys followed. Then there were no more “ back seats.” A wail arose. Coonie Schnable, the stingy, offered five cents and was jeered at; Jimmie Weygandt offered five cents and a new knife and was more courteously denied.

“ You don’t need a back seat,” Oliver assured Jimmie. “ But if Coonie sits where Teacher can see him, he gets licked like sixty.”

Coonie grew pale under his summer’s tan.

“ He don’t like my Pop, nor none of my family,” he said.

“ My Pop says he used to lick them till they could n’t stand,” offered Ollie cheerfully. “ But he learned them. My Pop would ’a’ had him back this long time if the others would.”

The older of the Fackenthals took from his pocket a short tin tube. Plastered on it was a ball of putty.

Little Ollie laughed. He threw himself back in his seat, his feet on the desk. It was only seven o’clock and the teacher would not be there till eight.

“ You just try once a putty-blower! ” he warned. “ You will easy see what you will get! ”

Twenty years before, the children’s fathers and mothers had gone to “ payschool.” It was before the establishment of the public-school system, and the payschool was kept by Jonathan Appleton, of New England origin and Harvard training. Why he had come to Millerstown no one knew. It never occurred to Millerstown that he might have displayed his learning to better advantage in a larger and more cultivated town. They regarded the thirty dollars a month which he was able to earn, as a princely salary for a man who spent his summers in idleness and knew nothing about farming. Jonathan seemed to like Millerstown, — at least he stayed for twenty years, and married a Millerstown girl, little Annie Weiser, who adored him.

“ You might ’a’ had Weygandt,” her mother mourned. “ For what do you take up with a school-teacher ? ”

Little Annie only smiled rapturously. To her Jonathan was almost divine, and her marriage a beatitude. Like most perfect things, it was also short-lived. Two years after they were married, Annie died.

In another year, Jonathan lost his position. By that time the Millerstown school was free, and to the minds of many Millerstonians there was good reason for changing.

“ Here is Jonas Moser,” said William Knerr. “ He is a Millerstown boy. He has gone for three years already to the Normal. He has all the new ways. They have there such a model school, where they learn them all kinds of teaching. The Normal gets money from the state. We pay our taxes. I think we should have some good of this tax-paying. We did n’t pay nothing for Teacher’s schooling. And he is pretty near a outlander.”

“ Boston is n’t outland! ” said Oliver Kuhns. “ And Teacher ” (Appleton was to retain the title, if not the position, till the day of his death) “ Teacher is a good teacher. He learned all of us.”

“ He whips too much.”

Oliver laughed. “ I bet he whipped me more than all the rest put together, and it never did me no harm. I am for having an English teacher like him. Jonas Moser don’t talk right yet, if he is a Normal. I don’t want my children taught Dutch in the school.”

Appleton laughed when he heard they were talking of electing Jonas Moser.

“ Nonsense! ” he said. “ Why, Jonas Moser can’t teach. His idioms are as German as when he left, his constructions abominable, his accent execrable.”

“ But they say he has methods,” said Oliver uneasily. “ They taught him in such a model school.”

“ Methods! ” mocked Appleton. “ A true teacher needs no methods.”

“ Yes, but — but — ” Oliver stammered. Jonas Moser was leaving no stone unturned to win votes. It was as though he had learned electioneering also at the Normal. “ But could n’t you say you had anyhow one method ? He has books about it. He brought them to the schoolboard.”

“ Nonsense! ” said Appleton.

When he found that they had elected Moser, he was at first incredulous, then scornful. He said that he was going away. But he did not go. Perhaps he was too old or too tired to find another position. It might have been Annie’s grave which kept him there.

When, at the end of the year, Jonas Moser resigned, half of Millerstown wanted Appleton back. But there was another Millerstown boy ready to graduate at the normal school, who claimed his turn and got it. He resigned at the end of a month, giving his health as an excuse. It was true that he looked white and worn. Unfortunately for the children’s disciplining, he did not tell what anarchy had reigned. It might have been, however, that the school-board suspected it.

“We will now try a Normal from away,” said William Knerr. “ These children know those what we have had too well.”

Presently Appleton’s scorn was succeeded by humility. He applied for his old position and was refused. It would have been an acknowledgment of defeat to take him back. He grew excited, finally almost vituperative.

“ Your school is a pandemonium,” he shouted, his black eyes gleaming above his long, white beard. “ The children are utterly undisciplined. They learn nothing. They are allowed to speak your bastard German in the schoolroom. They have no manners. You have tried seven teachers. Each one has been worse than the last.”

“ Well, anyhow, the children ain’t beaten black and blue,” said William Knerr sullenly.

“Beaten black and blue!” repeated the old man. “ Oliver Kuhns, did I ever beat you black and blue ? ”

“ No, sir,” answered Oliver heartily.

“ Or you, James Fackenthal ? ”

“ No, sir.” James Fackenthal was burgess and he sometimes consulted with Appleton about the interpretation of the borough ordinances.

“ Or you, Caleb? ”

“ No, sir.”

Then he whirled round upon Knerr.

“ And you I never whipped half enough.”

It was, to say the least, not conciliatory. The eighth “ Normal ” was elected.

After the ninth had come and gone, they engaged a tenth, who was to come in September. On the opening day, he did not appear. Instead came a letter. He had decided to give up teaching and go into the life-insurance business. Oliver Kuhns pointed out the fact that the letter was dated from the town whither the last teacher had gone.

“ I guess he could n’t recommend Millerstown,” Oliver said.

“ I know another one,” said William Knerr. “ He lives at Kutztown. I am going to-morrow to see whether I can get him.”

Oliver Kuhns rose to his feet.

“ I make a move that we have Teacher come back to open the school, and stay anyhow till the Normal comes,” he said.

Ten minutes later, he was rapping at Appleton’s door.

Appleton had been reading by candlelight and his eyes blinked dully.

“ The school board wants you to come back,” said Oliver tremulously. “ You shall open school in the morning. We are tired of the Normals. We want you shall learn our children again.”

The old man took off his spectacles with a wide sweep of his arm. Oliver seemed to see the ferrule in his hand.

“ I shall be there. But I do not learn the children, Oliver, I teach them. Write it on your slate, Oliver, twenty times.”

Oliver went off, grinning. The old man could joke. He had expected him to cry.

The teacher was up as early as the children the next morning. He dressed with care, looking carefully at one shirt after the other. Finally he chose one whose rents would be hidden by his coat and waistcoat. Then he donned his high hat.

All Millerstown saw him go, his coattails flying in the breeze, his hat lifted whenever he caught the eye of curious watcher behind house-corner or syringabush.

“Good-morning, Miss Kuhns! — How do you do, Miss Kurtz ? — Not coming to school,Miss Neuweiler ?” Such ridiculous affectation had always been his. He had called the girls “Miss” before they were out of short dresses.

The children, too, saw him coming; not Oliver and the Fackenthals or Billy Knerr, because they did not dare to leave the seats they had chosen, but the rest of the boys and all the girls.

“ His coat-tails go flipperty-flop in the wind,” giggled little Katy Gaumer. “ We never had no teacher with a beard before.”

“ He looks like a Belscnickle,” laughed Louisa Kuhns. “ I ain’t going to learn nothing from such a teacher.”

Thus had they been accustomed to discuss the various “ Normals.”

Ollie bade Louisa sharply to be still.

“ You ain’t going to behave that way for this teacher,” he said. Then he swung his feet down to the floor, describing a wide arc through the air. The other three boys did the same, and there ensued a wild scramble from window to seat.

“ This is my seat! ”

“ No, my things are already on it.”

“ My books are in that there desk.”

“ It don’t belong to neither of you.”

“ Give me my pencil-box.”

“ This is my slate! ”

The roar of sound had not lessened when the door opened behind them. They did not hear him come in, they would probably not have heeded if they had. Then, suddenly, Coonie Schnable, quarreling with a little girl over a pencilbox, was bumped firmly into a seat, and Daniel Wenner into another. By that time, after a moment of wild rushing about, peace reigned. Each seat was occupied by a child, every voice was silent, every eye fixed upon the front of the room.

This was a new way of opening school! Usually the Normals had said gently, “ Now, children, come to order.” They had never begun by seizing pupils by the collar!

Teacher walked to the front of the room, and laid his hat on his desk. He was smiling pleasantly, and though he trembled a little, the light of battle was in his eye.

“ Good-morning, children.”

With one accord, they responded politely. None of them had been taught the manners which he had “ learned ” their parents, but perhaps they had inherited them.

Teacher did not allow a minute for the respectful silence to be broken.

“ We will have the opening exercises. We shall sing, —

“ And remember to say joys, j-o-y-s, not ' choys.’ Who starts the tune ? ”

“ We did n’t sing last year because the boys always yelled so,” volunteered Louisa Kuhns, anxious to be even with Oliver.

“ To the corner, Louisa,” said Teacher grimly. “ Next time you want to speak, raise your hand.”

It was a long time since a pupil had obeyed such an order as that. Nevertheless, Louisa found her way without difficulty.

“ Now, who can start this tune ? ”

A hand went up timidly.

” I guess I can, Teacher.”

“ Very well, then, Katy. Ready.”

Teacher stood and watched them while they sang. Then he read a chapter from the Bible. His predecessors, having respect for Holy Writ, had long since omitted that part of the opening exercises. There was not a sound till he had finished.

“ Oliver Kuhns, are you in the first class ? ”

Ollie raised a respectful hand.

“ Please, Teacher, my Pop is Oliver. I am Ollie. Yes, I am in the first class.”

“ In what reader are you? ”

“ We are nearly through the Sixth Reader.”

“ We will go back to the beginning. Second class, where are you? ”

Katy Gaumer lifted her hand.

We are in the middle of the Fourth.”

“ You also will go back to the begin ning. Third class, come up to the recitation benches and take a spelling lesson.”

Teacher opened the third-class spelling book at random.

“Elephant,” he began. " Tiger.” He laid the book down. " Why don’t you write ? ”

The class sat as though paralyzed.

“ We are n’t that far,” ventured Katy.

“ It is the second lesson in the book,” said the teacher. " Go to your seats and prepare it.”

It was a sad morning for the Millerstown school. In the bottoms of their haughty hearts the children still cherished a faint desire to do well. Appleton’s angry amazement at their ignorance mortified them. They felt dimly, also, that he was grieved, not, like the Normalites, because he had to teach such unruly children, but for the sake of the children themselves. There was not a sound in the room, except the impatient movement of a foot when the correct answer would not come.

After recess Katy Gaumer raised her ever-ready hand.

“ Please, Teacher, I think we know our lessont.”

“ Lesson, Katy. You may come out.”

A diligent scratching responded to " elephant ” and " tiger.”

“ Jagu — ” began the teacher, then suddenly paused, his face pale. At the door stood a strange young man. Behind him came William Knerr and Oliver Kuhns. William advanced bravely into the room, Oliver remained miserably at the door. If he had only told Teacher that he was only engaged temporarily! But he had not dreamed that William Knerr would find a teacher so soon.

Appleton saw that resistance was useless. At William Knerr’s first word, he passed the spelling-book politely to the young man, and walked toward the door.

“ I could n’t help it, Teacher,” said Oliver, as he and William Knerr went out.

Teacher turned to look back. He seemed to take the measure of the Normal with a glance of his keen black eyes.

“ May I stay and visit your school ? ” he asked humbly.

“ Certainly,” said the young man, jauntily. What an unprogressive schoolboard this must be, who would tolerate such a teacher, even as a substitute! “ Do you teach Phonetic Spelling? ”

“ No,” answered Teacher, as he sat down. “ Just plain spelling.”

“ Oh!” said the young man. He saw also that the copy had been put on the board in a fine Spencerian hand. That would have to be corrected. His Model School taught the vertical system.

“ Elephant,” he began.

“ We have already spelled elephant,” said Katy Gaumer saucily. “ And tiger.”

The Normal smiled at Katy. He had determined to make the children love him.

“Jagu — ” he began. But it seemed that jaguar was not to be pronounced. A ball of something soft and wet sailed past the Normal’s head. He pretended not to see. Inwardly he was debating whether the moral suasion recommended by his text-book was the proper method to apply. He decided to ignore this manifestation.

“ Jagu — ” There was a wild clatter from the corner of the room. A pencilbox had fallen to the floor.

“ Jagu — ” began the Normal again.

There was another crash. The Normal saw with mingled relief and regret that the old white-bearded man had slipped out.

“ Boys! ” he cried nervously.

“ Boys! ” mocked some one in the room.

The Normal started down the aisle, realizing, not without some fright, that the time for moral suasion was past. He thought it was Oliver Kuhns who had dropped one of the pencil-boxes.

“ Go home,” he commanded sternly.

The children were startled into absolute silence. Hitherto, even the Normals had tried to keep their inability to control the school from the knowledge of Millerstown. This one would send them out to publish his shame. Billy Knerr laughed.

“ Go home with him,” commanded the teacher.

There was a wild roar of sound. Every child was shouting, the little girls and all. Oliver and Billy sat firmly in their seats. They did not propose to be cheated of any sport.

“ Boys! ” began the Normal. Then he became desperate, incoherent. “ If you don’t go out, I’ll get somebody in here who will go out.”

There was another shout, and the boys sat still.

“ Well, stay where you are, then,” the Normal commanded. “ But you must obey me.”

He wished that the old man would come back. There was something about the stern glitter in his eye which made it seem impossible that he could ever have tolerated such wild uproar as this. He did not guess that the old man was still within call. If he had walked to the window, he might have seen him, sitting on a low limb of the apple-tree, grimly waiting.

It is not necessary, and it would be painful, to describe the last half-hour of the morning session of the Millerstown school. Those who have plied puttyblowers and thrown paper wads and dropped pencil-boxes and given cat-calls will be able to picture the scene for themselves. Others will not credit the most accurate description. When the Normal went down the path at noon, he was consulting a time-table. Unfortunately for any plans of escape, William Knerr met him, and instead of going to the station, he went over to the hotel for his dinner.

“ He is coming back.” said Ollie Kuhns.

As Ollie prophesied, the Normal did come back. But he did not come alone. William Knerr was with him, and the burgess and Danny Koser and Caleb Stemmel, all members of the school board, and, all but William, bachelors, ignorant of the ways of children.

The Millerstown school was not to be thus overawed. Billy Knerr behaved well enough, for his father’s eye was upon him; but a frenzy seemed to possess the others. What did Oliver Kuhns care for the burgess and Danny Koser ? They were neither his mother nor his father. What did Katy Gaumer care for Caleb Stemmel ? There was a chuckle from the back of the room, and a quick turning of Directors’ heads. Every eye was upon a book. Perhaps, thought the Directors, they had imagined the chuckle.

The Normal announced that they would continue the lesson of the morning.

“ Elephunt,” he began, forgetting his normal-school training.

“ It is el-e-phant,” corrected Katy Gaumer.

“ Tiger,” said the Normal in a terrible voice. There came a howl from the back of the room. It sounded as though the beast himself had broken loose.

The Normal laid down the book.

“ Learn your own children,” he said hotly. “ I resign.”

He walked down the aisle and out the door.

The laughing children looked at one another.

“ He walked in one piece away,” squealed Katy Gaumer, in delightful Pennsylvania German idiom, so long unforbidden in the Millerstown school. Then Katy looked up at the Directors, who gaped at one another. Perhaps she wanted to show how quickly feminine decision can cut the knot of a masculine tangle, or perhaps, woman-like, she welcomed a firm hand after months of liberty.

“ Teacher’s setting in the apple-tree,” she said. “ I can see his coat-tails go flipperty-flop.”