The Secret School (5 page)

"It was really hard," Ida confessed. "That Herbert Bixler acted up."

"Did you have to take the switch to him?"

Thinking of what happened, Ida suddenly found herself smiling. "Got him to work without it."

"Good for you."

"But the day seemed so long. Pa, I didn't even know the proper time to dismiss everyone. Don't have a watch. Tom had to tell me."

"I've got something for that." He left the barn and returned in moments with an old wind-up clock. It was ticking loudly.

Ida wrinkled her nose. "It's awful noisy," she said, not wanting to be unappreciative.

"Got a drawer in that teacher's desk of yours?"

"Yes."

"Keep it in there. And tell you what: I'll give you a good fleece to wrap it up in, too. That way no one will hear."

"Thank you," Ida said, giving her father an appreciative hug.

 

Much to Ida's surprise, Friday went smoothly. True, Herbert didn't come to school and Ida did wonder—considering what had happened—if he would ever come back.

Still, it was a relief to get to the weekend. She and her father dug holes and set in the posts on their way to extending the south meadow. She found the hard work soothing.

On Monday Herbert was back in school, acting as if nothing had happened, with no explanation about his absence, either. Though he was not always attentive and spent a great deal of time simply staring out the windows, he was no longer disruptive. Ida was content with marking him present in the attendance book.

She tried her best to follow how Miss Fletcher had organized everything. Each day she had everyone read and memorize from their fifteen-year-old set of
McGuffey's Eclectic Readers.
She read aloud, too, a section a day from Charles Dickens's
A Tale of Two Cities,
from where Miss Fletcher had left off. They reviewed bits of geography (names of states, capitals, and rivers) and went over the facts of United States history (names of presidents in order, famous battles, important heroes). They did penmanship, bookkeeping, and grammar exercises—which meant parsing sentences or doing problems on the blackboard. Math problems were done, too, often out loud. Singing selections from the
Old Favorites Song Book,
plus recitations of memorized literature passages, rounded out the day.

On Friday afternoon the weekly contests were held, with Natasha Golobin, as usual, setting down all others in spelling. Tom won in mathematics. Ida added
HIGH MARKS
for both in the school ledger.

 

As Ida moved into her second full week of teaching, she caught herself taking moments to relax, gaining a growing awareness that she did not have to be teaching each and every minute of the day. An even bigger discovery was that if she just let the students work at their own pace and allowed their questions to become discussions for the class, time went by quickly. More and more she found herself listening to them, thinking about what
they
said, rather than worrying about what she should say.

It amazed her, too, how much she saw from the teacher's desk. Things she had never noticed before. Like how Felix screwed up his eyes when concentrating, or the way Natasha chewed her pencil, or how often Mary put her head down and napped. Or even how Tom fiddled with his right earlobe whenever he read intently.

One afternoon right after lunch, Tom raised his hand.

"Yes, Tom?"

"Miss Bidson, I brought something in that everyone might like to listen to."

"Listen to?"

The whole class turned around to see what Tom was talking about.

Reaching down, Tom brought out a box, placed it on his desk, opened it, and pulled out something Ida had never seen before. It looked like a snarl of wires.

"What is that?" she asked.

Tom, beaming, held it up. "A crystal radio. I built it myself."

"A radio!" Charley cried. "My dad says we're going to get one soon. Can I go look at it?" he asked Ida.

"Tom," Ida said, "why don't you bring it up here."

Proudly, Tom carried the apparatus to the teacher's desk. There was a scramble as the other students left their benches to gather around. Ida looked on, too.

The crystal radio consisted of a cardboard tube that looked like an oatmeal container around which copper wire had been carefully wound. Wires ran from the tube to a metal clip that held a shiny stone. There was also a hooked wire that looked like a tiny pointer. Attached to this thing was more wire, which was connected to a round disk.

"How's it work?" Herbert asked.

"Got to get this up first," Tom announced. He attached a long coil of wire to his radio and fed it out the window.

"Let's everybody go outside," Ida called.

The children scrambled for the door.

Once outside Tom handed Herbert the wire. "This is called an antenna. It pulls in the signal. You need to tie it up to the bell steeple."

Herbert took the wire, clenched it in his teeth, then got up onto Tom's shoulders and scrambled onto the roof. In moments he reached the steeple. Ida and the rest of the class cheered.

Herbert fastened the wire to the steeple, then reached in and clanged the bell. "School's out!" he called.

Everyone laughed.

As soon as he got down they all trooped back inside.

Tom began to fiddle with his radio. "You have to be very quiet," he said. "The mountains make reception hard."

"What's
reception
?" Felix asked.

"What you hear from a radio."

Tom picked up the round disk and held it to his left ear. "An earphone," he explained. With his right hand he manipulated the little pointer, poking it at different spots on the shiny stone—the crystal.

In breathless silence, everyone watched Tom as his face—earphone pressed to his ear—grew very intense. Suddenly he grinned. "Got KJQ," he announced. "Salt Lake City."

"Where's that?" Felix asked.

"Over in Utah," Tom explained.

"And what's KJQ mean?" Natasha asked.

"It's the radio station's call letters. Their name. They're playing music. I think it's called jazz. Does anyone want to hear—oops, it's gone."

"Where'd it go?" Charley asked in bewilderment.

"
Shhh!
" Tom commanded. He fiddled with the little pointer on the stone. "Got Denver! KDL!"

"What are they doing?" Ida asked.

Tom's face showed intense concentration. "Giving livestock prices. Here, listen!" He held out the earphone and put it flat against Ida's ear.

"...pork bellies are listed at twenty-two per..." she heard in a very scratchy voice, which faded, then grew louder. She handed the listening disk to Herbert, who then passed it on after a few minutes. One by one the children listened raptly. At one point Felix cried, "They're talking about sheep!"

After they'd each had a turn, Ida asked, "How does it work?"

Everyone attended closely while Tom went into a complicated explanation of the workings of the radio. As he talked, Ida studied his face, deciding that what she liked most was its intensity. She loved how excited he was by what he had done.

Then they listened to the radio some more, continuing to pass the disk around.

As Tom poked different places on the crystal, each student would call out the locations. "Kansas City!" "Albany!" "Spokane!"

"We can go anywhere!" Felix cried excitedly.

Ida had the idea of pulling down the map of the United States and, using a pointer, indicating where each place they listened to could be found.

It was during Charley's turn that the most exciting moment occurred. "It's a baseball game!" he shouted. "From Chicago!"

Then it was time for afternoon recess. Ida had to almost shoo the younger kids out. Only she and Tom remained in the room.

"I'm glad you brought that in," she told him, as he packed the crystal radio away. "How'd you learn to make it?"

Tom gave a shy shrug. "
Popular Mechanics.
I wrote away for the parts."

Ida felt a swell of pride for him.

Suddenly the door burst open and a red-faced Mary Kohl appeared. "Ida ... Miss Bidson," she corrected herself. "There's a lady out there I ain't never seen before. Says she's from the ... County Education Office. Says she needs to meet with our teacher!"

A
TALL WOMAN STEPPED
into the School. She wore a green felt hat and a black suit, the skirt reaching below her knees. A large purse dangled from one hand. Behind her the children crowded into the room.

Ida instantly recognized the woman as Miss Sedgewick from the County Education Office. She lived in Steamboat Springs—where the high school was—twenty miles down the valley. From time to time Miss Sedgewick came to their school to do inspections. And it was she who gave the exit exams.

Ida wondered if the woman would recognize her.

As she looked at Miss Sedgewick, Ida suddenly became aware of how shabby she must look in her simple polka-dot dress made over from one of her mother's. And the others looked just as ragged: Felix in baggy trousers; Tom, his shirt torn at the elbow; Herbert in old overalls, ripped shirt, no shoes on his feet; the other children no better. She remembered her ma saying how poor the valley was.

For a moment the children and the woman just scrutinized one another. Then she turned to Ida, whose heart was pounding.

"My name," the woman said, extending a white-gloved hand, "is Miss Sedgewick. From the Routt County Education Office. Where's Miss Fletcher?"

"She's gone," Ida managed to say.

"Gone? For the day?"

"For good." "Oh?"

"Her mother, back in Iowa, got ill," Natasha said.

"I'm sorry to hear it," said Miss Sedgewick. "When was this?"

"Couple of weeks ago," Ida said.

"I see. And ... who are you?"

"Miss Bidson is our new teacher," Mary called out.

"I see. Well, your school board was very fortunate to have found you so quickly, Miss Bidson, and to secure your services. I'm very pleased to meet you."

"Thank you, ma'am," Ida replied.

"No doubt the board will be forwarding your credentials to the county office." Miss Sedgewick paused, a look of puzzlement on her face. "Have we met before?"

"Not really," said Ida.

"Well, it'll be me, come June, who examines your eighth-grade-level students for their exit diploma. How many will there be?"

"I'm in eighth grade, Miss," Tom said quickly.

"Excellent," said Miss Sedgewick. "Your name?"

"Tom Kohl."

Miss Sedgewick took out a pencil and notebook from her purse and wrote down Tom's name. "Tom, you'll need to study hard. It's a challenging examination." She turned back to Ida. "Miss Bidson, is this your first teaching appointment?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I confess, you seem very young," Miss Sedgewick said with a little laugh. "But I'm afraid that only tells you how my own years are getting on."

"Yes, ma'am."

Miss Sedgewick held up her notebook. "Might you tell me your fall name?"

"Ida. Ida Bidson."

There was a moment of nervous silence as Miss Sedgewick wrote the name in her book. "Well, now," she said, looking about, "everything looks in perfect order. I'll not interrupt farther. Miss Bidson, I'm very glad to make your acquaintance. Children, mind your teacher. Young man," she said to Tom, "I'll see you in a few weeks."

With a wave she walked out of the room.

From the doorway Ida watched Miss Sedgewick move toward her car. The other children looked on silently.

"Ida," Tom said softly behind her back, "if that lady doesn't know you need to take the test, she won't give it to you in June."

The moment Tom spoke, Ida knew he was right.

"Miss Sedgewick!" Ida called.

The woman paused and looked back.

"I need to speak to you," Ida cried.

"Yes, Miss Bidson?" the woman said as Ida approached.

The other children followed.

"Miss Sedgewick," Ida said breathlessly, "I'm ... I'm not really a teacher."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm only in eighth grade," Ida rushed on. "When Miss Fletcher left, the school board decided to close down the school till next fall term because they said there wasn't enough time to get a new teacher."

"Close down the school?"

"Yes, ma'am. But we all"—Ida gestured to the others—"wanted to go on. Specially Tom. And me. So we can take our exit exams and go to the high school in Steamboat. We voted, ma'am—it was unanimous—to have me as teacher."

Miss Sedgewick studied the faces looking up at her. "Miss Bidson, exactly how old are you?"

"Fourteen, ma'am."

"I see. And you said you are in eighth grade?"

"Yes, ma'am."

There was a long moment of silence.

Then Felix blurted out, "She's my sister, but she's really smart."

"Pretty tough, too," Herbert put in.

"And she's a really good teacher," Natasha added. "She knows everything to do."

"I'm sure Miss Bidson has every one of those qualities," Miss Sedgewick said pensively. "But I need to understand something. While you and your classmates have gone on with the school—and with you as teacher, Miss Bidson—I trust you've informed the local school board what you are doing."

No one spoke. All eyes were on Ida.

"No, ma'am," Ida said very quietly.

"Ah. But what about your parents?" Miss Sedgewick said, addressing the group. "Have you informed
them
about what you are doing?"

Once more silence followed Miss Sedgewick's question.

"My parents know I'm teaching," Ida said at last.

No one else spoke.

"Well!" the woman exclaimed. "I've been with the county for fifteen years and I've never heard anything quite like this. It's most ... unusual."

"I hope to be a real teacher someday," Ida said hurriedly. "But to do that, I have to get to high school first."

"Plus a year at the State Normal College in Greeley, I must add," Miss Sedgewick said rather primly.

"So this," Ida went on, "was the only way we—Tom Kohl and me—could think to keep the school going." She paused, then asked, "Can I ... Can
we...
keep doing it? And ... take the test?"