Meeting him could have been the chance of a lifetime for Eileen . . .
BY ALISON CARTER
Set in 1931
I AM sorry, Miss Craig, that is how it has to be.” “I’m fired?” “Not fired, Miss Craig,” the school principal said. “You are a good teacher.
“But since numbers in the school have declined dramatically, the school board and the district have no choice but to close this school, and so we ask you to resign your position at the end of the fall term.”
“Resign? I can’t believe it!” Eileen cried.
“It is hard, particularly after your work with the older children – individual training on handwriting and so on.”
It had not just been handwriting.
As her classes dwindled in size, Eileen had been able to take the children down to the river and look at California wildlife.
By acting in little plays and talking, they now knew far more history than she had ever been able to teach to 38 at once.
Going about the room and pointing out flaws in arithmetic to just a few children had been a joy.
The principal seemed to read her mind.
“The district cannot fund classes of ten,” he said.
It was 1931. The farms and small towns of California were suffering, with people on the move in search of work.
Of the families that remained, parents sent their little ones to learn reading and writing, but sent their older children out to earn a wage.
Eileen thought about fighting the decision.
That week, she had taught eight sixth-graders how to play solitaire.
Others had played checkers for an hour.
Games of strategy sharpened young minds. No teacher could do that sort of thing with dozens of students.
“Is there anything else?” the principal asked.
Eileen sighed, certain that solitaire would cut no ice with the school board.
“No, Mr Peretski,” she said. “I guess I’ll be getting along home to my folks.”
She fetched her jacket and passed through the school hall.
The piano sat, shiny and black in the corner.
Eileen was a fair pianist, and accompanied all school singing.
It was the nicest part of her job.
In fact, a shrinking school had allowed her to start a glee club without leaving anybody out.
Their sweet voices were now regularly raised in harmony, and Eileen knew her little choir was better than a hundred others.
Her manuscript paper was still propped up on the piano from the last time she doodled a new song.
She heard the slam o
