Cauliflower Corners-The Drawing Class

1911-Cauliflower Corners

Earlier in our story, we learned that Miss Gracie Birdsong, all of seventeen years old, became, in September 1911, the very first teacher at Cauliflower Corners’ brand new public school. Her arrival was the most talked about events for weeks thereafter. She was responsible for the education of seventy-six pupils, ranging in age from five to thirteen. What a Herculean task it was. Grades one through eight. There were children from poor families. Children from better off families. Eager children. Children who would have preferred being elsewhere. Children with fertile minds. Children whose curiosity had been beaten out of them. Coddled children. Neglected children. Yet, they all had something in common: they adored Miss Birdsong.

By the end of her first week, Gracie knew every child’s name and some useful information about her charges’ family lives. And, every evening, she returned to her rooms at The Ketchill Arms, tired and elated. She would have a light dinner with Mrs. Ketchill and then retire to her parlour to prepare for the next day. Gracie never felt so alive.

At recesses, Gracie would stroll about the church and school grounds, in the gregarious company of every student of the female persuasion. The girls took turns holding hands with their teacher and vying for her warm attention. They loved the way Miss Birdsong’s dresses would billow softly in the breeze. They were intoxicated by the sweet smell of her lavender eau-de-toilette. They loved Miss Birdsong because Miss Birdsong loved them.

Of course, things were different with the boys. Or where they? All the young gentlemen proclaimed they would have preferred a more masculine leader, along the lines of Daniel Boone or Sitting Bull. Yet, they could not get enough of Miss Birdsong’s attention, something for which each of them longed but could not openly admit to, for fear of the inevitable shame that such an admission would surely entail.

The boys resorted to other means of getting noticed. Near the end of September, Magnus and Alistair McMurdo, cousins and fellow pranksters, aged ten and eleven respectively, hatched their own devious plan for discombobulating their undeclared crush. One Wednesday, after school, they made their way down to the village wharf to collect an appropriate specimen of the local fauna. At recess, the next morning, they released, with great stealth, their startled prisoner into the top left hand drawer of Miss Birdsong’s desk. Then they waited nonchalantly by the school door. Recess ended and the noisy throng of budding scholars elbowed, punched, needled and jostled their way back into the classroom. The McMurdos were the first in, ensuring no would take their front row seats.

After morning recess, it was always time for the Drawing Class. In the top left hand corner of her desk, Gracie kept the coloured chalk she would inevitably use for her demonstrations. When the class finally quieted down, she began:

“Children, today we will create posters for the Annual Thanksgiving Harvest Festival. We will put up the posters all over the village. Let your imaginations soar. Please share your colouring pencils. You may use the butcher paper given to us by Mr. Carmine. Eleanor, would please distribute the paper to those who want it? But, before we start, let me draw for you, on the blackboard, the poster I dreamed up last night.”

The McMurdos could barely keep still. It took all their strength to contain the itchy glee coursing through their veins. “Open the drawer, open the drawer” they pleaded inwardly. Miss Birdsong reached for the top drawer and pulled it open. She glanced down and her eyes fell upon a stunned dock spider of momentous proportions. In the slowest motion possible, she closed the drawer as she surveyed the room with slightly arched brows. You can guess whose four eyes were the only ones to avert Miss Birdsong’s perceptive gaze.

“Before we let our creative juices flow, announced the teacher in her most dulcet tone, “I would like to tell you something interesting I learned as a little girl growing up in Lansing’s Ford.”

“Daddler’s Creek ran through our farm. I used to fish there with my father from the tiny wooden launch he had built years before. One day, a spider the size of our woodshed popped up between the planks and started to crawl up my father’s pant leg. I was dumbstruck. I could not utter even the simplest word of warning. My father, spotting his visitor, calmly grasped him by the thorax and showed him to me.”

“Gracie, look at our guest. Isn’t he a beautiful monster?”

“Yes, Papa” I replied with all the courage I could muster.”

He is a common dock spider. His bite can cause quite a sting if he is surprised. But if you are gentle and touch him by the thorax only, he is rendered harmless.”

Gracie Birdsong paused for a moment as she relived her vivid memory. Then she continued.

“Now children, the spider story has somehow caused me to change my mind about how we will proceed with our drawing. Let’s see. Magnus McMurdo, you are one of the best artists in the entire school. I would like you and Alistair, another fine artist, to inspire us by starting your poster creation on the blackboard.”

Magnus and Alistair felt very uneasy. This was the first time Miss Birdsong had asked either of them to step forward. Sheepishly, they dragged themselves to the side of her desk.

“When I am drawing” volunteered Miss Birdsong, “the most difficult decision I ever have to make is choosing my first colour.  Once I’ve decided that, it is almost as if the pictures draw themselves. So what do I do? I close my eyes and choose a coloured pencil or a piece of chalk at random.”

Magnus and Alistair stood stock still.

“Magnus, let’s try an experiment. Without sneaking a peek, turn your head, reach into the drawer and pull out the sixth piece of chalk you feel.”

Magnus’ eyes could not have grown any larger. What should he do? If he reached in and fumbled for chalk, surely he would be stung. To refuse would be tantamount to admitting to his prank gone awry.

“Alistair is the better drawer” gurgled Magnus. “I think he should pick out the chalk.”

“Not me” pleaded the mortified Alistair. “I’m...I’m...I’m allergic to chalk.”

“Are not!”

“Am so!”

“Are not!”

“Am so!”

Gracie let the boys squabble a little longer and then mercifully directed them back to their desks, apologizing for having been the unexpected cause of such a disagreement between cousins. Once seated, Magnus and Alistair lifted their eyes to Miss Birdsong as far as they dared, knowing that they had been decisively, yet           secretly, admonished for their youthful transgression. Miss Birdsong smiled forgivingly at both of them, two more hearts won over by the power of wisdom and kindness.