Chapter 3 CHAPTER TWO FIRST LESSONS OF BEING A TEACHER

My spirits were refreshed as the carriage drove on, and my thoughts turned cheerfully to the new life I was about to enter.Although it was only after mid-September, the combination of dense clouds and strong northeast wind made the weather very cold and gloomy.The distance seemed long, for Smith said the road was "very difficult."Of course, it was also difficult for his horse to go fast. It climbed slowly up and down the hill. It was only when the road was flat or the slope was extremely small that it swung its body and began to trot as if putting down its airs.The country is rough, and it doesn't run much like this, so it was nearly one o'clock when we reached our destination.At last our carriage drove through a high iron gate, and went briskly up the well-milled drive, lined with green lawns thick with saplings, to the new, stately house. In front of the Wilwood Building.At this time, my courage suddenly disappeared, and I wished I was still a mile or two away from the mansion.Because, for the first time in my life, I had to live independently: there was now no way out.I had to go into the house and introduce myself to the strangers inside.But how should I introduce myself?It is true that I am nearly nineteen years old, but as I have always lived in isolation, cared for and loved by my mother and sister, I know very well that many girls of fifteen and younger are talking In terms of aspects, she is more like an adult woman than me, and her attitude is more calm and calm than me.Still, if Mrs. Bromfield had been a motherly woman, I would have dealt with it very well; I would certainly get on well with the children very soon—as for Mr. Bromfield, I hope not. How much will you have with him.

"No matter what the situation is, be calm, be calm," I told myself in my heart.When I was shown into the hall, and presented before Mrs. Bromfield, my resolution was indeed firm.I was so preoccupied with calming my nerves and suppressing my heart that I almost forgot to answer her polite greeting.At that time, I only said a few words in a half-dead, half-asleep tone, which surprised even myself when I thought about it afterwards.When I had time to reflect on the situation, I found that the lady's attitude was also quite indifferent.She was a tall, serious-looking, sallow-complexioned woman with thick black hair and grim gray eyes.

Nevertheless, with due courtesy she showed me my bedroom, and left me alone for a while to rest.I looked in the mirror and saw that I was quite embarrassed: the cold wind blew all the way, my hands were red and swollen, the neat curls of my hair were all messed up, and my face was also stained with a layer of light purple.As if that wasn't enough, my collar was wrinkled badly, my jacket was splashed with mud, and I had my new, stout boots on.Since the suitcase had not been brought up, I could not help it, so I straightened my hair as best I could, and tried several times to smooth out the wrinkled collar.Then I plodded down the two flights of stairs, thinking as I went; with some difficulty I found the room in which Mrs. Bromfield was waiting for me.

She ushered me into the dining room, where a potluck was already set.In front of me were some steaks and some half-cold potatoes.While I was eating, she sat across from me and observed me (I think so), and made an appearance of conversing with me; though what she said was very plain, her tone was very cold and serious.This was probably mostly my fault, since I couldn't really talk to her at the time.In fact, my focus is almost entirely on eating: not because I have a huge appetite, but because the steak is so old that I worry about it, and my hands are already tired after five hours in the cold wind. Do what you want.I really wanted to skip that piece of meat and just eat the potatoes, but it would be rude not to eat it since I had a huge steak on my plate.So I cut it with a knife, tugged with a fork, or both, trying to cut it open.I tried many times in an awkward position, but failed.I am well aware that the whole process has not escaped the eyes of the formidable lady.I finally clenched my hands holding the knife and fork into fists like a two-year-old child, and tore it apart with all my strength.However, there is an explanation for this kind of behavior - I forced a smile and said: "My hands are so numb from the cold that I can hardly hold a knife and fork."

"I think you're getting cold," she replied icily, with the same seriousness which did not reassure me in the least. When the ritual of eating was over, she led me back into the sitting room, where she rang the bell for the servants to bring the children. "You'll find that they haven't learned much," she said, "because I haven't had the time to attend to their education myself. We used to think that it was too early for them to have tutors when they were young; I think, however, that they were all clever boys, and very good at learning, especially the boy: he was, I think, the best of them all, he was generous, he had a noble spirit, and he could only be guided. It can't be forced, and the great thing about him is that he never tells a lie. He seems to have a special disdain for cheating." (This is good news) "His sister Mary Ann needs attention," she went on, "but, on the whole She is a very fine girl, but I wish to keep her out of the nursery as little as possible, as she is nearly six years old and may learn bad habits from nurses. I have ordered her cot to be put in In your room, if you would take care of her washing, dressing, and taking care of her clothes, she would never have to deal with nurses again."

I replied that I would love to do these things.At this time, my primary school student came into the room with his two little sisters.Master Tom Bromfield was seven years old, tall and wiry, very good-looking, with blue eyes, flaxen hair, a small upturned nose, and fair skin.Mary Ann was also tall and darker, like her mother, only with a round face and very red cheeks.Tom's second sister was Fanny, a very pretty little girl.Mrs. Bromfield assures me that she has a peculiarly tender disposition, and that she needs much encouragement; To enter the classroom for elementary alphabet lessons.The youngest, Harriet, was not yet two years old, a plump, cheerful, sweet little fellow, and I loved her the most of these children—but she was out of my hands.

I tried to address my pupils in the most cordial manner, trying to behave in a way that would please them, but I am afraid I did not succeed, for I felt very restrained and very uncomfortable in the presence of their mother.They were not at all shy when they met strangers, and it seemed that they were bold and lively children.I hope to be able to establish friendly relations with them soon--especially the boy, who I have learned from his mother to have such a pleasant character.I found it with regret: Mary Ann always had an unnatural smile on her face, and she longed for attention.However, her brother wanted my full attention on him.He straightened up, stood between me and the fireplace with his hands behind his back, and babbled like an orator.When his sisters were too loud, he would occasionally stop talking and snap at them.

"Oh, Tom, you're a sweet baby!" cried his mother; "come here and kiss your good mother; won't you show Miss Gray your school-room and your beautiful new books?" "I don't want to kiss you, mother, but I'd like to show Miss Gray my classroom and my new book." "Tom, my classroom and my new books," said Mary Ann, "are mine too." "They're mine," he said in a very decisive tone. "Come, Miss Gray—I'll go with you." We have seen classrooms and books, and there are often some quarrels between brothers and sisters, and I have to try my best to mediate and calm them down.Mary Ann showed me her dolls, and talked a great deal about their pretty dresses, and cots, and wardrobes, and things; but Tom told her to be quiet, and he would show Miss Gray his A swinging wooden horse.He swaggered for a while, dragged the wooden horse from the corner to the center of the room, and called me to him loudly.Then he ordered his sister to hold the reins for him, and he rode on himself, majestically whipping and kicking with spurs. He made me stand for ten minutes to watch his performance. Mary Ann's fair doll with all its accoutrements; and I said to Master Tom that he was a first-class rider, only that I wished he would not use the whip and spurs every now and then when he rode a real horse.

"Well, I'm going to use it!" he exaggerated. "I'm going to drive the spurs into its flesh! Ah! Mark my words! I'm going to make it hurt like hell." His words are horrible, but I hope I can make him change sooner or later. "Now you must put on your hat and shawl," said the little hero, "and I will show you my garden." "And mine," said Mary Ann. Tom raised her fist in a threatening gesture and she screamed and ran to the other side of me and made faces at him. "Tom, you would never hit your sister. I hope I never see you do it."

"Sometimes you'll see: you've got to beat her a lot if you want her to behave." "You have to know, it's not your responsibility to make her obedient, that's..." "Come on, you put on your hat and go." "I'm afraid it's . . . the weather is gloomy and very cold, like it's going to rain. You know I've come a long way in a carriage." "What's this--you must go, and I'll let you have no excuse," answered the strutting young gentleman.Since we are meeting for the first time today, I think it is best to follow him.Mary Ann, unwilling to follow through the severe cold, remained in the house with her mother.Her brother was very happy about it, he liked me being alone with him.

The garden was large and beautifully arranged, and besides a few brightly colored dahlias, several other beautiful flowers were still in bloom: but my little friend gave me no time to look at them, and I had to follow him through the damp grass, Came to a remote corner, which was the most important place in the yard, because it was his flower garden.There are two circular flower beds with various plants planted in them.In one of the flower beds was a beautiful rose tree.I stopped and admired its beautiful flowers. "Oh, never mind it!" he said contemptuously. "It's only Mary Ann's garden. Look, it's mine." I was allowed to leave only after I had finished looking at each flower and listening to his boastful talk about each type of plant.However, before I left, he picked a narcissus in a very boastful manner and presented it to me like an honor.I saw a device made of sticks and string in the grass near his flowerbed, and asked him what it was. "Bird trap." "Why do you want to catch birds?" "Papa says they do bad things." "What do you do with them when you catch them?" "There are many ways. Sometimes I feed them to cats; sometimes I cut them into pieces with a pencil knife. But if I want to catch them again, I'll roast them alive." "Why did you do such a terrible thing?" "There are two reasons: first, to see how long it can live—and, to see how it can be roasted." "Don't you know it's extremely wicked to do that? Remember, birds feel pain just as much as you do." "Oh, what's the matter! I'm not a bird, and I can play with it without pain." "But, Tom, you'll feel it someday. You've heard where wicked people go when they die, and remember, if you don't give up the habit of torturing innocent birds, you're bound to go there." go somewhere, and suffer the pain you inflict upon them." "Oh, bah! I wouldn't. Daddy knows what I do with them. He never blamed me for it. He said he used to do it when he was a kid. Last summer he gave me a birdhouse with a bird in it. He watched me tear off their legs, wings and heads, and he didn't say anything, but told me: these things are too salty, don't stain my trousers. Uncle Robson was also there, He laughed out loud and said I was a good boy." "But what would your mother say?" "Oh, she didn't care at all! She said it was a pity to kill the beautiful, singing birds, and the naughty sparrows, the little mice, and the big mice, I could do what I liked. So I said , Miss Grey, it is not wicked to do so." "Tom, I still think so. If your father and mother think about it, they may agree with me." I went on in my heart, "They can say what they want, anyway, I've made up my mind. : As long as I have the power to stop you, I will never allow you to do such a thing." Then he took me across the lawn to see his mole traps, and to his hay-yard to see his weasel traps; He is very happy.Then he took me to the stables, not for the beautiful cart horses, but to see a foal that hadn't been tamed yet.He told me that this colt was specially prepared for him, and after it was tamed, he would ride it.In order to make this little guy happy, I listened to his nagging as much as possible.Because I thought, as long as he still has a little love in his heart, I will try to win it, and then, when the time comes, maybe I can point out to him the mistake of what he has done.I wanted to find in him the generosity and spirituality his mother spoke of, but I couldn't find them.Nevertheless, I could see that he had a certain intelligence and discernment if he tried. It was almost time for tea when we got back into the house.Master Tom told me that it was a rare pleasure that he and I, and Mary Ann, could have tea with mother when papa was away today.Because usually when Dad is away, Mom always eats dinner with them at noon, not at six o'clock.After tea Mary Ann went to bed, and Tom chatted with us till eight o'clock.After he had gone, Mrs. Bromfield explained to me further the temperament of her children, and how far they had learned, what lessons they were going to learn, and how they should be disciplined.She reminded me: their shortcomings cannot be mentioned to anyone else, only to her.My mother once warned me: don't tell even her children's shortcomings, because parents don't want to hear what is wrong with their children.So I decided to keep quiet about all this going forward.About half-past nine, Mrs. Bromfield asked me to join her for a very simple supper of cold meat and bread.Supper was finally over, I was so happy, and she went to rest with the candlestick in the bedroom.I couldn't help but come across her as cold, sullen, and forbidding--the very opposite of what I'd hoped for a genial, sympathetic hostess.