Mr. Morton's Problems Took On A Life Of Their Own.

Things went from bad to worse for Mr. Morton.

           Inez did not take readily to being rebuffed by Mr. Morton.  Little time elapsed before Inez's father, Willy Swicegood, accused Frank Morton of indecent behavior with one of his students. Less time passed before the whole community was up in arms.

            For all the turmoil leading to it,  Mr. Morton's hearing before the school board was attended by a small number of people.  They were seated around a long conference table.  On one side of the table sat the six board members and the superintendent.  To the left along the narrow side sat Frank Morton.  Across from the school board was the community delegation, Lester Alley and Woodrow Harrison, Inez Swicegood, the injured party, Willy Swicegood as father of the victim, and Opal and Jeannette as witnesses.

            There was no talking, no noise at all, only sly looks to the left and right, as they sat waiting for the superintendent to begin.  Some heads were lowered, others erect but with eyes straight ahead focused on the wall above the heads of the panel. Nobody looked at Mr. Morton. Opal tried without lifting and turning her head to see what Mr. Morton was doing.

            The superintendent looked at his watch.  He glanced sideways at his board members and cleared his throat. "Well, I see it's a few minutes early, but since we're all here we might as well get started. Unless someone objects."  He paused and hearing no objections continued, "We're here to examine complaints against Frank Morton, teacher at the Rock Hill School."  He glanced briefly at Frank Morton,  then turned to his audience. "Mr. Swicegood, I understand, is the spokesman for the community. Which of you is Willy Swicegood?"

            "I'm Willy Swicegood."  Willy sat erect.  "And I am the head deacon of the Church of God and the father of this here injured girl."  He motioned to Inez, who sat tall and proper. "We come here as God fearing men to see that this here man is got away from our youngens.  We ain't got nothing agin our youngens gitting some schooling.  Reckon we all want them to learn to read and write, so as they can read the Bible,  and to figure so as they can take care of their affairs.  But we can't rightly tolerate the kind of goins on we've been having."

            Woodrow Harrison and Lester Alley nodded.  Inez stifled a giggle.  Opal glanced sideways at Jeannette who looked as scared as she felt. Opal was not sure what Jeannette said when her father questioned her.  She could not even remember what she had said.  It was so long after the stories were on every lip, in every ear. She was not even exactly sure anymore what she saw and heard. She certainly was not sure what she was supposed to say.

            The superintendent's voice interrupted Opal's thought.  "Now let's get down to the facts.  Mr. Swicegood, why don't you tell us just exactly what are your specific complaints against Mr. Morton."

            Willy fumbled at his seldom worn tie.  He stared as the wall across the room behind the board.  The perfect picture of man gathering his thoughts, a man weighing his words.  Finally he said, "Well first off, he don't do much teachin'. My Inez tells me they have recess a long time every day.  I don't rightly remember it being like that when Miz Carmack was there.  For another he's been sayin' some indecent things to the youngens.  'Specially to the girls.  He followed my Inez when she went to the toilet.  It was nearly a half hour before they came back in. That's mighty worrisome to me.  You have to be on your guard with girls.  Does any of you have girls?  If you do you know there's so many worries you have to be on guard agin.  And havin' a teacher to go off in the woods alone with a girl-- Well as I see it,  it ain't decent. It ain't something we can tolerate."

            Faces of the board remained passive. Woodrow and Lester shook their heads in agreement.  Inez looked as if she would pop. Opal sighed deeply wishing the hearing would end.  Willy continued, "Havin' a teacher look with evil intent in his eyes on a young girl is bad enough, but actually takin' one into the woods -- and in broad daylight in front of the other youngens-- I can tell you that just ain't decent."

            

Mr Morton's Problems Begin To Grow

 The story of Mr. Morton and his struggle to teach in a community whose nature he never knew continues:

 Mr. Morton never gained  control of his school.  On days when Bob and Elmo were absent there was a small semblance of work.  Fortunately those days became more frequent as August became September and September became October.  But the long recess was an ingrained part of the school day.

            Mr. Morton never came out of the building during recess. Most days he shut himself in the small book closet at the back of the room.

            There were times when Opal felt sorry for Mr. Morton. But every time she was on the verge of saying so some classmate near enough to overhear stopped her.  Finally she recruited Jeannette as an ally and the two of them slipped away from the dodge-ball game. They would be nice.  From just inside the front door they saw Inez at the book closet door, her back to them.  Then they heard the exchange.

            "Inez, can I help you?" Mr. Morton asked.

            "I thought, if you wanted me to, I could clean the blackboard and put out new chalk."

            "Thank you, Inez.  I'd appreciate that.  I was just getting ready to call everybody back in.  But we'll wait until you've cleaned the board."  He turned away from her, picked up a book and began to examine its damaged spine.  Inez stayed planted in the door.  He turned, "Is there something else?"

            In one quick movement she was inside the closet door.  "Don't you know, Mr. Morton?"

            Mr. Morton pushed her back out the door.  "Oh you need chalk, don't you?" As he held out his hand with six pieces of chalk, Inez clasped both her hands around his arm. "This should be enough."  He pulled back his hand still holding the chalk.

            Inez stepped toward  him. Her arms were around his waist. "Mr. Morton, can't you see I'm not a little girl anymore.  I'm a woman now.  And ever since the first I laid eyes on you I knowed-- and you jest keep treatin' me like a little girl.  Can't you see I'm a woman?"

            Opal and Jeannette shrank back and watched as Inez tightened her grasp. Finally he twisted free and stepped out of the closet and stood face to face with Opal and Jeannette. Inez turned, "You saw what he did to me didn't you?'  First Jeannette and then Opal shook their heads.

 To be continued;

The Sins Of Innocent Children

What follows is a fictional account of a real event. Like DRAGNET the names have been changed to protect the innocent. Although innocence is questionable. I was one of those ‘not so innocent characters'.  This is a rather long story written several years ago. I will print it here in episodes—until it is done.

            It was August.  Did all the momentous events of her life occur in August?  At any rate it was August-- the first day of school after Miz Carmack retired -- after forty years as teacher of the one room school.  Miz Carmack started at eighteen, right out of teacher's academy and had never taken off a year until she retired. Even when her babies came she brought them with her and kept them, first in a cradle, then in a play pen, and later running around the class.  Now the only teacher most of the community had ever known was gone, and a new one was coming.

            Opal and Kaye did not dawdle this day.  Anticipation of a new teacher directed their feet to hurry.  They knew little about him. His name was Mr. Morton, he was just graduated from the teacher's college and this was his very first job. Even the Meltons where he was rooming had never met him, but had agreed to rent him a room on Miz Carmack's recommendation.

            Opal and Kaye ordinarily cut across the big yard to the wood frame school, unpainted for years and set well back off the road.  But seeing Jeannette and Janann coming from the opposite direction they met them at the path into the school yard.  "Wonder what he looks like," Jeannette asked.  "Daddy says he can't be that much older than Elmo and Bob."

            Bob and Elmo Davenport, fifteen and sixteen, were still working at third grade level.  Every year they began school and after a few weeks they began skipping days until by Christmas they we were no longer coming at all.  The next fall they did the same. Opal once asked her father what would happen when Bob was old enough to get married.  Her father never said.  Jeannette  asked as they approached the school house, "Can you believe he's not much older than Bob and Elmo?"

            "That's dumb," Kaye said.  "Elmo's just fifteen. Ain't no way a teacher can be fifteen."

            The girls neared the schoolhouse, peered in the window.  There he stood, his back to them.  He was writing on the blackboard which was nearly filled up.  He was short and thin. His white shirt was neatly tucked into his gray pants.  Jeannette drew in her breath.  "He's a teacher."

            Frank Morton saw the wide eyed girls with their noses pressed against the window.  He smiled and motioned for them to come in.  Stifling giggles they entered.  The desks had been moved from the way Miz Carmack left them. On each desk lay paper and a book. On the makeshift table to the left of the door the water glasses were shiny and arranged neatly around the water bucket. To the right books were stacked neatly on a shelf.

            ""And who might you be?"

            Jeannette blushed;  Kaye and Janann giggled.  Opal said, "I'm Opal Alley.  This is my sister Kaye and this here's Jeannette and Janann Harrison."

            "I'm Mr. Morton."  He eyed the girls. "Well Opal and Jeannette, Miz Carmack left me a note that you're in the seventh grade. You'll sit here."  He pointed. "And Kaye and Janann-- here.  You're early.  I like that.  It shows an eagerness to learn."

            Students trickled in --each greeted by Mr. Morton.  The last to come were Elmo and Bob Davenport, nearly half an hour late.  When Mr. Morton pointed to their desks, Elmo said, "I ain't sittin' with them little farts."  Wide spread giggles erupted.

            "That's where the third grade sits," Mr. Morton.  "Sit down, please."

            "I said I ain't sittin with the babies."  Elmo moved his desk to the opposite side of the room near Jeanette and Opal.  "I'm sittin' here."  Bob grinned and moved his seat too.

            The tone of Mr. Morton's school was set. Mr. Morton's control, or lack of it, was established.  He turned and pointed to the blackboard. "Well, we'll begin. Everybody will start by working on arithmetic."  A round of groans went up.  Jeannette leaned over and whispered to Opal, who tried to restrain her giggle. "Jeannette, do you have something to say?"  Jeanette's grimaced; she said nothing. "If you do have something to say, say it to all of us."  Jeannette blushed, remained silent, and shook her head.  "Then don't talk.  Your assignments are on the board.  There will be no talking until they are all done or recess whichever comes first."  Protests began with a few isolated groans.

            Elmo looked around the room, and getting no response to his grin asked, "What are we supposed to do if we can't do what you got up there, stick our fingers up our butts?"

            Everyone was laughing and talking.  Mr. Morton snapped his wooden pointer against the blackboard.  "I said no talking. On your desk you have paper and a pencil and a book.  If you can't do the work get help from the book. Now I think I made myself clear. I said there will be no talking until you are finished.  Are there any more questions?"

            Jeannette raised her hand. "What can me and Opal to do?"

            "Opal and I?"

            "Yeah, me and Opal.  There ain't no work up there for us."

            "Isn't," Mr. Morton said.

            Elmo grinned and stifled snicker with such aplomb that general laughter broke out. Mr. Morton snapped his pointer against the blackboard again.  He pointed to a section in the top left corner.  "Do this."

            Inez Swicegood, whose body surpassed her mere thirteen years, rose and walked around the edge of the seats until the got to Elmo's seat.  She leaned down and whispered something Elmo's ear.  Then she turned, faced Mr. Morton, pushed back her shoulders, thrust out her well developed breasts, shown to advantage in her tight shirt.  She tossed her head and said, "I have to go." Without waiting for Mr. Morton's response she walked defiantly out the door.

            Thirty minutes later she had not returned.  Mr. Morton confidently said, "Jeannette, would you go and ask Inez to get back in here."

            Jeanette looked to Opal;  both girls shrugged.  "Jeannette," Mr. Morton said.

            Elmo raised his hand.

            "Yes, Elmo?"

            "That ain't goin' to do no good.  Inez said if you want her to come back, you have to come git her yourself.  She's hidin' in the woods out back of the girls' toilet, waitin' for you."

            Mr. Morton's face flushed.  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Opal, go bring Inez back here."

            "No sir, Mr. Morton.  It won't do no good.  She told Elmo she won't come for nobody but you.  And she means it.  You don't know Inez.  When she makes up her mind to do something she means to do it.  Ain't no stopping her.  Ask anybody."

            Elmo snickered.  "She is mighty hard headed."

            "Then you're in charge, Opal."  Mr. Morton stalked out of the room.  Behind him was tumultuous laughter as the students gathered at the windows to watch what they could.

            It was nearly half an hour later when Mr. Morton returned with a defiant Inez following. The class was properly seated and silent. Inez took her seat, smiled and shrugged. Sly looks became whispers; whispers became chatter.  Mr. Morton looked at the clock on the wall over the blackboard.  Barely nine thirty.  With a demeanor of calm not reflective of his turmoil he announced it was time for recess.

The Day Diane Cracked Arville's Skull

 A large sore, three inches around, covered the right side of Arville’s head, above the ear.  It began small, treated by Dr. Lawson from Crossville.  When the salves and the scrapings only made it worse, Mommie and Daddy took him to a specialist in Knoxville.

Despite all treatment the sore became larger and angrier. The puffy raised pink raised sore was soft to the touch, free of hair. This dragged on month after month, gradually getting worse.  Occasional oozing required a bandage around the head, which had to be changed at least once a day and on bad days twice or three times. A new specialist in Knoxville offered only the same salves and a shaking head.

It was a day warm enough to play on the porch instead of in the house. Cooped up for several days we enjoyed the freedom of porch play, freedom from “Don’t run in the house”.  We moved from the porch swing to the steps, from the steps to the swing,  sometimes quietly, sometimes running wildly across the porch . Arville had his cap gun. We girls had no weapons. But Diane discovered the broom made a good club. She ran across the porch swinging  her club, hit Arville in the side of the head.  He screamed;  Mommie came running. Blood and pus ran from under Arville’s head bandage. The removed gauze revealed a triangular flap of skin peeled back from the oozing pus and blood. The oozing finally stopped. Mommie cleaned and re-bandaged the wound.

Plans to go back to the Knoxville doctor never materialized. Healing began immediately and proceeded so well no doctor was needed.  Until his death Arville had scant hair on the right side of his head. Mommie wondered why the doctor never thought of lancing the wound.

Pennies And Nickels In The Prince Albert Can

Had Jody Davenport been born in Charles Dickens’ time and place he would have been one of the gamins or urchins Dickens masterfully presented to us.  Jody was more unchaperoned than anyone of his age and most a good deal older. He wandered wantonly around the community—not committing horrid acts, but skirting the edges of moral and legal acceptability.

In Daddy’s position as church deacon he was entrusted with the Church Birthday Can. It was a large Prince Albert Tobacco can with a coin slot cut in the lid. This can was faithfully carried to church each Sunday. It sat prominently on a table near the pulpit. Those who had birthdays during the week dropped ‘a penny-per-year’ in the can. This was the church emergency fund.

Jody usually went to the Holiness Church if he went at all. Occasionally he inadvertently wandered into our Baptist Church.  Jody who never  fed the birthday can was aware of its existence.

Then came the day Daddy found the Birthday Can removed from the shelf in our dining room, lid removed and empty of its pennies, nickels and dimes. No question—Daddy knew—we all knew. Jody!

The money was recovered minus the amount Jody spent at the Rolling Store for candy, gum and crackerjacks. And a higher, safer  home was found for the Birthday Can. Jody remained Jody.

God's In His Heaven And All's Right On The Pond

Two species were the ponds on our hundred acres. (see the previous blog). The spring fed pond was cool, hosted a variety of fauna and flora and provided the launching and landing site of our ill- fated boat. The rain pond, now deep, now shallow in response to rainfall, was muddy with temperatures dependent on the weather. On the coldest days of winter it was ice covered.

A thick layer of ice provided a surface as grand as any skating surface anywhere. There was no adult supervision of our skating (albeit without skates). We merely slid across the icy surface in our shoes.  And I do mean shoes for rare were snow boots. How glorious, how much a part of nature we felt as we slid across the ice. How delighted we felt that no nosy parent or neighbor tried to stop us from such glee.  The angels, the genies, the faeries or some other benevolent spirits surely were on duty protecting us from the vagaries of nature and our daring stupidity. We never fell through the ice. As the poet said “God’s in his heaven and all’s right with the world”.

Summer Not In The Boat On The Pond

8.

                                            The hundred acres we called home

                                                     had two ponds

                                            One rain pond- now full- now not

                                                   at rain’s will

                                            One spring fed, full amid plants,

                                           Haven for creatures, bugs,  frogs

                                                  and a boat,

                                          Wedge shaped box with tarred bottom,

                                                 And  each spring

                                           A new layer of tar sealed leaks.

                                               But alas

                                          Sealing tar weighed more and more,

                                          Sinking boat and summer dreams.