Journal #6- Chapters 16 - 19 (Mayella Ewell)
I sat there in the court room watching as my father was being questioned as to what had happened to me the night of November twenty-first. My father knew as well as I about what really happened that night. I had always felt lonely and so distant from all the other kids; That was until the day I asked, that one boy, Tom Robinson to come help me and chop up a chiffarobe. I told him that if he came over the fence this instant and help me chop up that chiffarobe n' I'd give him a nickel. That Tom said he wasn't gonna take no nickel and to keep my money. I asked him why not and he said because he didn't want no nickel. He was so nice to me, that Tom was the only person who talked to me with much respect and ever since then by the time he came by, I'd have something for him to do. Whether it was telling him to come ad help me with the garden, of help me chop up another piece of furniture, I would always have something for him to do for me.
One day I suggested that he help me fix a door that I knew was perfectly fine and things got a little out of hand. My daddy saw and took all of rage out on me by forcin himself on me. I was screamin' and hollarin'... My daddy blammed it all on that Tom Robinson, and threatened me that if I didn't cooporate, he would hurt me again and again until I swore to him that I would go along with prosecuting him.
So during Toms trial, that Atticus start callin' me ma'am and Miss Mayella. That got me so mad! Why was he sayin that type of stuff to me? It was rude and I had finally had enough. I told that Atticus that he should watch what he was sayin' and that I wasn't even about to cooperate with him if he was gonna call me that. Judge Taylor told me that he was just bein' polite. An' then all of a sudden, Mr. Atticus asks me if my dad drink alot. I was terribly confussed for I had no idea what that question had to do with convicting Tom of rape and so I answered truthfully. I told him that he did drink and that sometimes he would get out of hand but wouldn't hurt me. I almost blew it by saying that he did but then caught myself before my father could beat me again.
Although I didn't say that he abuses me, I could see him sitting on the edge of his seat. I was off the stand and it was time for the jury to come to a decision. I told them what had happened, for the most part, but I knew that no matter what happened, my only friend was going to be gone forever after this. Atticus gave a speech that I thought was very convincing and heart felt. As old as he was, Atticus was still courteous and a very respectable man for all I knew. No matter how accurate or correct Atticus' assumptions were about my father and I, the jury still pleaded Tom guilty but only because he was black.
Although I knew that I had just been a part of convicting an innocent black man, I was also humiliated,just as my father probably felt right then. Atticus had accused my father of beating and abusing me. I just walked out of the court room with my head down all the way to my house in shame of what I had just been a part of.
Journal #5- Chapters 13 -15 (Atticus)
Ah… Summer. Although summer is my favorite season, this summer was going to be different. My sister, Alexandra, talked me into letting her live with us for a while. Said she needed to talk some sense into both Jem and Scout about proper etiquette. As I am getting older, I felt no need to argue with my sister, for she is a lady and can teach Scout more things about a women than I ever could and can be there for Jem when I am not around to teach him to be a gentlemen. Maybe she could be like a mother figure for a while, though no one could ever replace my dear wife. Oh I loved her so much…
“How’d you like for your Aunty to come live with us?” I asked when I got home. I knew that Alexandra wasn’t Scouts most favorable family member, and really didn’t want to scold her if she said that she wouldn’t accept her living here. I could see it deep in her eyes that she really had no choice but to sound enthusiastic and welcome her into our home. Maycomb welcomed her with open arms. Miss Maudie Atkinson baked her one of her famous Lane cakes, Miss Stephenie Crawford come over for longs visits, and Miss Rachel would invite her over for coffee in the afternoons. Scout and Jem weren’t causing fuss and I hadn’t heard Alexandra complain about anything yet so I thought that this summer wasn’t going to be so bad after all. That was until my sister insisted that Jem and Scout know about their family history and that they should start actin’ like true Finches, and live up to the family name. I really found no need in telling them our family history. I had no problem with the way I have raised my kids and don’t mind if my daughter, Jean Louise Finch, goes walkin’ around in overalls and barefoot. She is my daughter and no matter what happens, I will always love her exactly the way she is.
Before bed, I knocked on Jems bedroom door and found both Jem and Scout and thought it appropriate to try and explain to them about the family tree.
“Have we done something?” Jem asked.
I really didn’t know where to begin with the subject, “No, I just want to explain o you that- your Aunt Alexandra asked me… son, you know you’re a Finch, don’t you?”
“That’s what I’ve been told.” I could tell that Jem was uncomfortable with the situation and rose awkwardly. “Atticus, what’s the matter?”
I crossed my knees and folded my arms. “I’m trying to tell you the facts about life.” Jem began to loose his patience and it came out in his tone of voice.
“I know all that stuff,” he said.
How else was I supposed to get the message across if they aren’t listening to what I have to say? I took a more serious tone with them, “Your aunt has asked me to try and impress you upon you and Jean Louise that you are not from run-of-the-mill people, that you are the product of several generations’ gentle breeding-“ I paused watching Scout locate an elusive redbug on her leg. “Gentle breeding,” I continued. “and that you should try to live up to your name. She asked me to tell you you must try to behave like the little lady and gentlemen that you are. She wants to talk to you about the family and what it’s meant to Maycomb County through the years, so you’ll have some idea of who you are, so you might be moved to behave accordingly,” I concluded at a fast pace. I picked at my collar uncomfortably and then Scout picked up a comb off of Jem’s dresser and ran its teeth along the edge.
“Stop that noise,” I said curtly. After I said it, I regretted it. I knew that Scout had expected more of her father figure and she immediately began to cry. She come up to me and dug her face into my chest. The silence was uncomfortably quiet, so much that you could hear my watch ticking, and the sound of our breathing.
“Your stomach’s growling,” she said.
I found it no longer necessary to keep a firm tone and said, “I know it.”
“You better take some soda.”
“I will,” I said. I put my hand on to the back of her head and told her that there was nothing to worry about. “It’s no time to worry,” I said.
I stood up and left the room almost slamming the door into the fragile door trim but caught it just in time for it to squeak. I opened the door again and peered around, finding Jem and Scout staring at where the closed door had just been. “Get more like Cousin Joshua every day, don’t I? Do you think I’ll end up costing the family five hundred dollars?” They knew I was teasing and smiled a soft smile their way before saying goodnight, and heading down stairs.
One Saturday night, Scout asked me what rape was and I told her that it was simply the carnal knowledge of a female by force and without consent.
“Well if that’s all it is why did Calpurnia dry me up when I asked her what it was?”
She asked Calpurnia what?! This must’ve happened when I left town. “What was that again?”
“Well, I asked Calpurnia comin’ from church that day what is was and she said ask you but I forgot and now I’m askin’ you,” she said.
The daily paper was now in my lap as I looked at her again and asked her to repeat. She began tellin’ me how they went with Calpurnia to her church on Sunday and I honestly enjoyed the idea of them going with Cal to church. It was nice of her to let Jem and Scout join her for mass.
“You all were coming back from Calpurnia’s church that Sunday?”
Jem answered, “Yessum, she took us.”
Scout said the same thing, “Yessum, and she promised me I could come out to her house some afternoon. Atticus, I’ll go next Sunday if it’s all right, can I? Cal said she’d come get me if you were off in the car.” I thought it was a great idea for Scout and Jem to go again but before I could even say my opinion on the subject, my sister was the first one up.
“You may not!” she growled. I glaced at her with amusing eyes but then Scout turned to her and said, “I didn’t ask you!” I was up from my chair in no time, not quite looking in any certain direction.
“Apologize to you aunt,” I said.
“I didn’t ask her, I asked you-“
I turned my head towards her, pinned her down against the wall with my good eye and said, “First apologize to your aunt.” Although Scout mutter almost inaudiable, I knew she had said sorry.
“Now then,” I said. “Let’s get this clear: you do as Calpurnia tells you, you do as I tell you, and as longs as your aunt’s in this house, you will do as she tells you. Understand?” Scout nodded her head and stood there in the living room for a while before she went off on her way. While she was gone, I sat back down in my chiar, Jem was reading a football magazine, and my sister began saying, “…you’ve got to do something about her. You’ve let things go on too long, Atticus, too long.”
“I don’t see any harm in letting her go out there. Cal’d look after her there as well as she does here,” I retorted.
“Atticus, it’s all right to be soft-hearted,” she continued. “You’re an easy man, but you have a daughter to think of. A daughter who’s growing up.”
“That is what I am thinking of,” I said.
“And don’t try to get around it. You’ve got to face it sooner or later and it might as well be tonight. We don’t need her now.” How dare she even consider kicking Calpurnia out of this household.
“Alexandra,” I said with an even voice. “Calpurnia’s not leaving this house until she wants to. You may think otherwise, but I couldn’t have got along without her all these years. She’s a faithful member of this family and you’ll simply have to accept things the way they are. Besides, sister, I don’t want you working your head off for us- you’ve no reason to do that. We still need Cal as much as we ever did.”
“But Atticus,” she began.
I cut her off. “Besides, I don’t think the children’ve suffered one bit from her having brought them up. If anything, she’s been harder on then in some ways than a mother would have been… she’s never let them get away with anything, she’s never indulged them the way most colored nurses do. She tried to bring them up according to her lights, and Cal’s lights are pretty good- and another thing, the children love her.” Right then, Scout entered the living room. I retreated back to reading my newspaper and Alexandra continued with her embroidery. I could tell that she was furious but I couldn’t have cared less. No matter how much I loved my sister, sometimes she just gets way too over her head about things and I have to settle them with a serious tone and put her where she belongs. Jem and Scout left the room together and I heard only one door close upstairs. They must be talking about what just happened.
I heard a clunk and decided to go up and investigate what was going on. When I entered the room, I immediately had to pull Scout off of Jem. My temper wasn’t too steady and ordered them to go to bed. “Both of you go to bed right now.”
“Taah!” Scout retorted back to Jem.
“Who started it?” I asked.
“Jem did. He was tryin’ to tell me what to do. I don’t have to listen to him now, do I?” Scout asked.
I smiled. Oh how I found it so entertaining to see my children bicker over such a small concept. I will always love Scout’s dedication to her beliefs and courage to stand up for what she believed in, but there comes a time where it’s inappropriate to result in violence. “Let’s leave it at this,” I said. “You mind Jem whenever he can make you. Fair enough?” Alexandra was present but silent, like she should be, and walked down the hall with me.
“Just one of the things I’ve been telling you about.” All I wanted was silence but then I heard my name being called. “Atticus, can you come here a minute sir?” What was the matter? Was he or Scout hurt? I rushed up stairs as fast as I could. I walked into the middle of the room looking at Dill Harris, filthy as could be. I assumed that Dill must’ve been very hungry and told Scout to go get him a pan of cold corn bread.
“Mr. Finch, don’t tell Aunt Rachel, don’t make me go back, please sir! I’ll run off again-!”
“Whoa son,” I said. “Nobody’s about to make you go anywhere but to bed pretty soon. I’m just over to tell Miss Rachel you’re here and ask her if you could spend the night with us- you’d like that, wouldn’t you? And for goodness’ sake put some of the county back where it belongs, the soil erosion’s bad enough as it is.”
I was just about to fall over I was so tired. I also was overwhelmed by the Tom Robinson case but told the children to ignore anything the town or their classmates said about me, or them. That they were just words and that they didn’t mean nothin’. As their father, I don’t want them to have to worry about anything that is being said for my actions and responsibilities. They just deserved to have fun just like any other kid in the town.
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“How’d you like for your Aunty to come live with us?” I asked when I got home. I knew that Alexandra wasn’t Scouts most favorable family member, and really didn’t want to scold her if she said that she wouldn’t accept her living here. I could see it deep in her eyes that she really had no choice but to sound enthusiastic and welcome her into our home. Maycomb welcomed her with open arms. Miss Maudie Atkinson baked her one of her famous Lane cakes, Miss Stephenie Crawford come over for longs visits, and Miss Rachel would invite her over for coffee in the afternoons. Scout and Jem weren’t causing fuss and I hadn’t heard Alexandra complain about anything yet so I thought that this summer wasn’t going to be so bad after all. That was until my sister insisted that Jem and Scout know about their family history and that they should start actin’ like true Finches, and live up to the family name. I really found no need in telling them our family history. I had no problem with the way I have raised my kids and don’t mind if my daughter, Jean Louise Finch, goes walkin’ around in overalls and barefoot. She is my daughter and no matter what happens, I will always love her exactly the way she is.
Before bed, I knocked on Jems bedroom door and found both Jem and Scout and thought it appropriate to try and explain to them about the family tree.
“Have we done something?” Jem asked.
I really didn’t know where to begin with the subject, “No, I just want to explain o you that- your Aunt Alexandra asked me… son, you know you’re a Finch, don’t you?”
“That’s what I’ve been told.” I could tell that Jem was uncomfortable with the situation and rose awkwardly. “Atticus, what’s the matter?”
I crossed my knees and folded my arms. “I’m trying to tell you the facts about life.” Jem began to loose his patience and it came out in his tone of voice.
“I know all that stuff,” he said.
How else was I supposed to get the message across if they aren’t listening to what I have to say? I took a more serious tone with them, “Your aunt has asked me to try and impress you upon you and Jean Louise that you are not from run-of-the-mill people, that you are the product of several generations’ gentle breeding-“ I paused watching Scout locate an elusive redbug on her leg. “Gentle breeding,” I continued. “and that you should try to live up to your name. She asked me to tell you you must try to behave like the little lady and gentlemen that you are. She wants to talk to you about the family and what it’s meant to Maycomb County through the years, so you’ll have some idea of who you are, so you might be moved to behave accordingly,” I concluded at a fast pace. I picked at my collar uncomfortably and then Scout picked up a comb off of Jem’s dresser and ran its teeth along the edge.
“Stop that noise,” I said curtly. After I said it, I regretted it. I knew that Scout had expected more of her father figure and she immediately began to cry. She come up to me and dug her face into my chest. The silence was uncomfortably quiet, so much that you could hear my watch ticking, and the sound of our breathing.
“Your stomach’s growling,” she said.
I found it no longer necessary to keep a firm tone and said, “I know it.”
“You better take some soda.”
“I will,” I said. I put my hand on to the back of her head and told her that there was nothing to worry about. “It’s no time to worry,” I said.
I stood up and left the room almost slamming the door into the fragile door trim but caught it just in time for it to squeak. I opened the door again and peered around, finding Jem and Scout staring at where the closed door had just been. “Get more like Cousin Joshua every day, don’t I? Do you think I’ll end up costing the family five hundred dollars?” They knew I was teasing and smiled a soft smile their way before saying goodnight, and heading down stairs.
One Saturday night, Scout asked me what rape was and I told her that it was simply the carnal knowledge of a female by force and without consent.
“Well if that’s all it is why did Calpurnia dry me up when I asked her what it was?”
She asked Calpurnia what?! This must’ve happened when I left town. “What was that again?”
“Well, I asked Calpurnia comin’ from church that day what is was and she said ask you but I forgot and now I’m askin’ you,” she said.
The daily paper was now in my lap as I looked at her again and asked her to repeat. She began tellin’ me how they went with Calpurnia to her church on Sunday and I honestly enjoyed the idea of them going with Cal to church. It was nice of her to let Jem and Scout join her for mass.
“You all were coming back from Calpurnia’s church that Sunday?”
Jem answered, “Yessum, she took us.”
Scout said the same thing, “Yessum, and she promised me I could come out to her house some afternoon. Atticus, I’ll go next Sunday if it’s all right, can I? Cal said she’d come get me if you were off in the car.” I thought it was a great idea for Scout and Jem to go again but before I could even say my opinion on the subject, my sister was the first one up.
“You may not!” she growled. I glaced at her with amusing eyes but then Scout turned to her and said, “I didn’t ask you!” I was up from my chair in no time, not quite looking in any certain direction.
“Apologize to you aunt,” I said.
“I didn’t ask her, I asked you-“
I turned my head towards her, pinned her down against the wall with my good eye and said, “First apologize to your aunt.” Although Scout mutter almost inaudiable, I knew she had said sorry.
“Now then,” I said. “Let’s get this clear: you do as Calpurnia tells you, you do as I tell you, and as longs as your aunt’s in this house, you will do as she tells you. Understand?” Scout nodded her head and stood there in the living room for a while before she went off on her way. While she was gone, I sat back down in my chiar, Jem was reading a football magazine, and my sister began saying, “…you’ve got to do something about her. You’ve let things go on too long, Atticus, too long.”
“I don’t see any harm in letting her go out there. Cal’d look after her there as well as she does here,” I retorted.
“Atticus, it’s all right to be soft-hearted,” she continued. “You’re an easy man, but you have a daughter to think of. A daughter who’s growing up.”
“That is what I am thinking of,” I said.
“And don’t try to get around it. You’ve got to face it sooner or later and it might as well be tonight. We don’t need her now.” How dare she even consider kicking Calpurnia out of this household.
“Alexandra,” I said with an even voice. “Calpurnia’s not leaving this house until she wants to. You may think otherwise, but I couldn’t have got along without her all these years. She’s a faithful member of this family and you’ll simply have to accept things the way they are. Besides, sister, I don’t want you working your head off for us- you’ve no reason to do that. We still need Cal as much as we ever did.”
“But Atticus,” she began.
I cut her off. “Besides, I don’t think the children’ve suffered one bit from her having brought them up. If anything, she’s been harder on then in some ways than a mother would have been… she’s never let them get away with anything, she’s never indulged them the way most colored nurses do. She tried to bring them up according to her lights, and Cal’s lights are pretty good- and another thing, the children love her.” Right then, Scout entered the living room. I retreated back to reading my newspaper and Alexandra continued with her embroidery. I could tell that she was furious but I couldn’t have cared less. No matter how much I loved my sister, sometimes she just gets way too over her head about things and I have to settle them with a serious tone and put her where she belongs. Jem and Scout left the room together and I heard only one door close upstairs. They must be talking about what just happened.
I heard a clunk and decided to go up and investigate what was going on. When I entered the room, I immediately had to pull Scout off of Jem. My temper wasn’t too steady and ordered them to go to bed. “Both of you go to bed right now.”
“Taah!” Scout retorted back to Jem.
“Who started it?” I asked.
“Jem did. He was tryin’ to tell me what to do. I don’t have to listen to him now, do I?” Scout asked.
I smiled. Oh how I found it so entertaining to see my children bicker over such a small concept. I will always love Scout’s dedication to her beliefs and courage to stand up for what she believed in, but there comes a time where it’s inappropriate to result in violence. “Let’s leave it at this,” I said. “You mind Jem whenever he can make you. Fair enough?” Alexandra was present but silent, like she should be, and walked down the hall with me.
“Just one of the things I’ve been telling you about.” All I wanted was silence but then I heard my name being called. “Atticus, can you come here a minute sir?” What was the matter? Was he or Scout hurt? I rushed up stairs as fast as I could. I walked into the middle of the room looking at Dill Harris, filthy as could be. I assumed that Dill must’ve been very hungry and told Scout to go get him a pan of cold corn bread.
“Mr. Finch, don’t tell Aunt Rachel, don’t make me go back, please sir! I’ll run off again-!”
“Whoa son,” I said. “Nobody’s about to make you go anywhere but to bed pretty soon. I’m just over to tell Miss Rachel you’re here and ask her if you could spend the night with us- you’d like that, wouldn’t you? And for goodness’ sake put some of the county back where it belongs, the soil erosion’s bad enough as it is.”
I was just about to fall over I was so tired. I also was overwhelmed by the Tom Robinson case but told the children to ignore anything the town or their classmates said about me, or them. That they were just words and that they didn’t mean nothin’. As their father, I don’t want them to have to worry about anything that is being said for my actions and responsibilities. They just deserved to have fun just like any other kid in the town.
Journal #4- Chapters 10 - 12 (Ms. Dubose)
I always knew that my morphine addiction would eat away at my soul but it always kept the pain tame and settle. It was just about time before I knew I’d go crazy. Besides, look at me, I’ve been dying for years now and all I wanted to do was die free of everything. I would have to suffer the consequences of the withdrawals and try to amount to as much pain as I could. My porch, bed, and bathroom were about as far as I could get around now-a-days. I would always just sit on my porch and watch my neighbors pass by every morning and afternoon. One day, Mr. Finch’s girl called out to me, “Hey, Mrs. Dubose.” Did that girl have any manners at all?
“Don’t you say hey to me, you ugly girl! You say good afternoon, Mrs. Dubose,” I retorted. Before I could full comprehend what I had just yelled, both her and her brother were gone and heading into town. I had once heard them both refer to their father as “Atticus”. How rude. That’s their father their speaking to and that is no way to talk to your superiors. Those children needed some serious punishin’ and I was determined to give it to them. No matter how sick I was, they needed to know what their family truly was. I once told them that it was quite a pity for their father for he had not remarried after their mother’s death. A lovelier lady like their mother never lived and it was heartbreak to see that Atticus Finch let his children run wild.
This particular morning, I saw Miss. and Mr. Finch walking into town mid day and asked them what they were doin’ out that time of day. I told them that if they were playin’ hookey, like they usual did, I would call up the principal and tell him what they were up to.
“Aw, it’s Saturday, Mrs. Dubose,” said the boy.
“Makes no difference if it’s Saturday,” I said obscurely. “I wonder if your father knows where you are?” I bet he didn’t have a clue that they were just runnin’ wild all over the town and disruptin’ this neighbor hood.
“Mrs. Dubose, we’ve been goin’ to town by ourselves since we were this high.” The boy placed his palm down about two feet above the sidewalk.
“Don’t you lie to me! Jeremy Finch, Maudie Atkinson told me you broke down her scuppernong arbor this morning. She’s going to tell your father and then you’ll wish you never saw the light of day!” I said. “If you aren’t sent to the reform school before next week, my name’s not Dubose!” If they were smart enough, they’d know that if they didn’t get to reform school in a week, then I would be the one to send them there myself! All of a sudden, Mr. Jeremy started talkin’ ‘bout how he ain’t been near Miss Maudies scuppernong arbor since last summer.
“Don’t you contradict me!” I bawled. I looked at what Miss Jean Louise was wearin’ and found it the right moment to point out how she wasn’t lady like if she was gonna wear those overalls the rest of her life. “You should be in a dress and camisole, young lady! You’ll grow up waiting on tables if somebody doesn’t change your ways – a Finch aiting on tables at the O.K Café- hah!” I laughed just thinking about it. “Not only a Finch waiting on tables but one in the courthouse lawin’ for niggers!” There I got them. They stood stiff in their tracks and all Jeremy did was turn scarlet and pull at his sleeve. After a moment, they turned in silence and continued one their way for town. Serves them right; What has Atticus let these children become? They’re filthy. After a while, they passed again but this time I wasn’t sitting on my porch. I was lying in bed when I heard banging outside my front door. That Jeremy Finch had cut off each top off of each camellia bush I owned and left a broken baton on my porch to find.
I called Atticus Finch and told them that his kid had ruined all of my plants and left a mess on my front porch. I also told him that I wanted to speak with him and show him the wreck that Mr. Jeremy had left me. Later that evening, I was out relaxing on my porch when I heard foot steps approaching. It was Jeremy Finch. Supposedly he came over to apologize and clean up the mess he had left me. He also promised me that he would come over every Saturday to water my plants until all the tops grew back. As that didn’t compensate for him getting mad at me simply for telling him the straight up truth, I told him that as a part of his punishment, he could come over everyday, including Saturdays, and read to me.
That following Monday afternoon, I heard a knock at the door and told Jessie to go answer it for me.
“Mrs. Dubose?” he called.
“Is that you, Jem Finch?” she asked. “You got your sister with you. I don’t know...” said Jessie.
Stubborn Jessie, that girl. “Let them both in, Jessie,” I said. I was lying under a pile of quilts in my bed anxiously awaiting their presence. “So you brought that dirty little sister of yours, did you?” was the first thing I said to Jem when they walked in.
“My sister ain’t dirty and I ain’t scared of you,” he said.
“You may commence reading, Jeremy,” was all I said before I the clock started ticking. Jeremy opened up Ivanhoe and while doing so, both pulled up chairs near my bed. Although I knew that I was not quite going to listen to every detail Mr. Finch was saying, I knew that I would be half deaf if I didn’t tell them to come closer. “Come to the side of the bed.” They moved their chairs forward and he began reading. At times, I heard him take a slight pause and knew that he was leaving out some context and would ask him to say it best he could or for him to spell it out.
15 minutes down. My eyes had a permanent hold on the steel alarm clock but would try concentrating on the children’s faces instead. I was slowly drifted into a cold sleep. In both corners of my mouth, I was salivating and saliva was dripping down my chin and onto my pillow case. Saliva would collect on my lips and I would lick them again and again until I gave up and let the suffer and consequence take all of me. The alarm clock rang and was glad that it was finally over, for now. It was about time. I could feel my arms and legs trembling underneath the heavy layering of blankets. I had chills running down my spine and saliva down my chin. Jessie must’ve sent the children away because I didn’t hear them leave. Every day, I would set the alarm clock later and later each day to see how long I could last without having a seizure.
The reading continued for a month as agreed but was surprised when Mr. Jeremy read to me one extra week. It was nice though. I wanted him to know how much I appreciated him takin’ the time to come over and read to an old sick lady like me and told Jessie to put a nice camellia plant into a candy box before I died. I just hope he knows how much I appreciated him coming over everyday to read to me. Slowly, I watched as the light slowly grew dimmer every second until everything went dark and cold.
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“Don’t you say hey to me, you ugly girl! You say good afternoon, Mrs. Dubose,” I retorted. Before I could full comprehend what I had just yelled, both her and her brother were gone and heading into town. I had once heard them both refer to their father as “Atticus”. How rude. That’s their father their speaking to and that is no way to talk to your superiors. Those children needed some serious punishin’ and I was determined to give it to them. No matter how sick I was, they needed to know what their family truly was. I once told them that it was quite a pity for their father for he had not remarried after their mother’s death. A lovelier lady like their mother never lived and it was heartbreak to see that Atticus Finch let his children run wild.
This particular morning, I saw Miss. and Mr. Finch walking into town mid day and asked them what they were doin’ out that time of day. I told them that if they were playin’ hookey, like they usual did, I would call up the principal and tell him what they were up to.
“Aw, it’s Saturday, Mrs. Dubose,” said the boy.
“Makes no difference if it’s Saturday,” I said obscurely. “I wonder if your father knows where you are?” I bet he didn’t have a clue that they were just runnin’ wild all over the town and disruptin’ this neighbor hood.
“Mrs. Dubose, we’ve been goin’ to town by ourselves since we were this high.” The boy placed his palm down about two feet above the sidewalk.
“Don’t you lie to me! Jeremy Finch, Maudie Atkinson told me you broke down her scuppernong arbor this morning. She’s going to tell your father and then you’ll wish you never saw the light of day!” I said. “If you aren’t sent to the reform school before next week, my name’s not Dubose!” If they were smart enough, they’d know that if they didn’t get to reform school in a week, then I would be the one to send them there myself! All of a sudden, Mr. Jeremy started talkin’ ‘bout how he ain’t been near Miss Maudies scuppernong arbor since last summer.
“Don’t you contradict me!” I bawled. I looked at what Miss Jean Louise was wearin’ and found it the right moment to point out how she wasn’t lady like if she was gonna wear those overalls the rest of her life. “You should be in a dress and camisole, young lady! You’ll grow up waiting on tables if somebody doesn’t change your ways – a Finch aiting on tables at the O.K Café- hah!” I laughed just thinking about it. “Not only a Finch waiting on tables but one in the courthouse lawin’ for niggers!” There I got them. They stood stiff in their tracks and all Jeremy did was turn scarlet and pull at his sleeve. After a moment, they turned in silence and continued one their way for town. Serves them right; What has Atticus let these children become? They’re filthy. After a while, they passed again but this time I wasn’t sitting on my porch. I was lying in bed when I heard banging outside my front door. That Jeremy Finch had cut off each top off of each camellia bush I owned and left a broken baton on my porch to find.
I called Atticus Finch and told them that his kid had ruined all of my plants and left a mess on my front porch. I also told him that I wanted to speak with him and show him the wreck that Mr. Jeremy had left me. Later that evening, I was out relaxing on my porch when I heard foot steps approaching. It was Jeremy Finch. Supposedly he came over to apologize and clean up the mess he had left me. He also promised me that he would come over every Saturday to water my plants until all the tops grew back. As that didn’t compensate for him getting mad at me simply for telling him the straight up truth, I told him that as a part of his punishment, he could come over everyday, including Saturdays, and read to me.
That following Monday afternoon, I heard a knock at the door and told Jessie to go answer it for me.
“Mrs. Dubose?” he called.
“Is that you, Jem Finch?” she asked. “You got your sister with you. I don’t know...” said Jessie.
Stubborn Jessie, that girl. “Let them both in, Jessie,” I said. I was lying under a pile of quilts in my bed anxiously awaiting their presence. “So you brought that dirty little sister of yours, did you?” was the first thing I said to Jem when they walked in.
“My sister ain’t dirty and I ain’t scared of you,” he said.
“You may commence reading, Jeremy,” was all I said before I the clock started ticking. Jeremy opened up Ivanhoe and while doing so, both pulled up chairs near my bed. Although I knew that I was not quite going to listen to every detail Mr. Finch was saying, I knew that I would be half deaf if I didn’t tell them to come closer. “Come to the side of the bed.” They moved their chairs forward and he began reading. At times, I heard him take a slight pause and knew that he was leaving out some context and would ask him to say it best he could or for him to spell it out.
15 minutes down. My eyes had a permanent hold on the steel alarm clock but would try concentrating on the children’s faces instead. I was slowly drifted into a cold sleep. In both corners of my mouth, I was salivating and saliva was dripping down my chin and onto my pillow case. Saliva would collect on my lips and I would lick them again and again until I gave up and let the suffer and consequence take all of me. The alarm clock rang and was glad that it was finally over, for now. It was about time. I could feel my arms and legs trembling underneath the heavy layering of blankets. I had chills running down my spine and saliva down my chin. Jessie must’ve sent the children away because I didn’t hear them leave. Every day, I would set the alarm clock later and later each day to see how long I could last without having a seizure.
The reading continued for a month as agreed but was surprised when Mr. Jeremy read to me one extra week. It was nice though. I wanted him to know how much I appreciated him takin’ the time to come over and read to an old sick lady like me and told Jessie to put a nice camellia plant into a candy box before I died. I just hope he knows how much I appreciated him coming over everyday to read to me. Slowly, I watched as the light slowly grew dimmer every second until everything went dark and cold.
Journal #3- Chapters 8-9 (Scout)
Well today, today was different. Since 1885, Maycomb hasn't seen a flurry of snow until today. I didn't even know what the slush in my front yard was until Jem and Atticus told me. Mr. Avery has always believed that the seasons changed whenever the children disobey their parents so you could practically envision him going on and on about how naughty the children have been. Mrs. Radley died that winter but her death caused nearly a ripple. Atticus said she died of natural causes but Jem pressured me to ask him and plus, I was honestly curious.
“Ask him,” Jem whispered.
“You ask him, you’re the oldest.”
“That’s why you oughta ask him”
I finally got the courage to ask him and said, “Atticus, did you see Mr. Arthur?” He looked sternly around his newspaper at me. “I did not,” he said. Atticus was still worried about Jem and I being nosey about the Radleys ever since that one night.
Also today, Jem and I built a snowman. We went over to Ms. Maudies house and brought some of her snow back to our house in baskets, which was 73% dirt and slush. Jem had this idea that we were going to build something called a snowman. I didn’t know what Jem was doing but I just followed his lead. Jem scooped up an armful of dirt, patted it into a mount on which he added another load, and another until he had constructed a torso. The amount of dirt that ours snowman had made it look as though it was all black.
“Jem, I ain’t ever heard of a nigger snowman,” I said.
“He won’t be black long,” he grunted.
Jem pulled off some peachtree switches from the back yard, bent them, and then covered them in snow. I thought it looked like Miss Stephenie Crawford with her hands on her hips. “Fat in the middle and little-bitty arms,” I said. Jem sloshed over the mud and added more dirt. Jem then went around and added a big stomach below the waistline. Both Jem and I thought our snowman looked a lot like Mr. Avery. Jem scooped up some white snow and began to cover the cover the back of Mr. Avery. Slowly, the snowman turned white. Using bits of wood for the eyes, mouth, and buttons, Jem succeeded in making Mr. Avery looking cross.
“It’s lovely Jem,” I said. “Looks almost like he’d talk to you.” I couldn’t wait until atticus came home for dinner so that he could see our snowman. He said that it looked lovely but that we had to cover him up just in case Mr. Avery saw. I wouldn’t want him coming up to Jem and me and giving us a big talk about how disobeying we are. Right now, my feet feel as though they are going to freeze off and Atticus and Calpurnia have already put more coal into our stoves to keep us warm. As soon as I felt as if I had finally fallen asleep, I heard, “Baby get up.” Was it morning already? Atticus was holding out my bathrobe and coat. “Put your robe on first,” he said. What time was it? It still looked pitch black. “Hurry hun. Here’re your shoes and socks.” Stupidly, I put them on. Finally I asked, “is it morning?”
“No. It’s a little past one. Hurry now.” What could possibly be so important that they had to wake me at one in the morning? “Whats the matter?” I asked. I knew when there was trouble in our street. Soft muffled scurrying sounds filled me with helpless dread. “Whose is it?”
“Miss Maudie’s, hon,” said Atticus gently. At the front door, I saw fire spewing from Miss Maudie’s house across the street.
“Its gone ain’t it?” reckoned Jem. Atticus told Jem and I to go down by the Radley Place and keep out of trouble. Jem was ordered to take are of me and was in charge or making sure we were both kept out of harms way.
“That book…” I said.
“What?”
“That Tom Swift book, it ain’t mine. Its Dill’s…”
“Don worry, Scout, it ain’t time to worry yet,” said Jem. I thought that those words would comfort me until I saw smoke arising off of our house. Not once did I let go of his coat. There were three fire trucks that came by but finally all that was left of the fire was smoke and Miss Maudies house in ashes. I feel so bad for her. I would be so devestated if our house burtned down. I really want to talk to her to see if she's alright but Atticus always looked at us shaking his head. Maybe it wasn't the right moment. When Jem and I met back up with Atticus the first thing he pointed out was the blanket I had wraped around my shoulders.
"What did I tell you about stayin' put?" I just stood there trying to find an explination for the newly fitted blanket around my arms, but I couldn't. He turned to Jem who was just as confussed as I was. "Well I guess everyone came out tonight." We were standing in frong of the Radley Pla- Boo?! Could he have come out and put that blanket around me while I wasn't looking? Damn. If only I had turned around. Oh well, I know he'll have to come sooner or later.
Journal #2- Chapters 4-7 (Jem)
Every time I think I have made myself perfectly clear about the deadly consequences of eating anything near the Radley house, today I found Scout chewing a piece of Wrigley’s Double-Mint gum that she found in a tree. Any ordinary tree would be inexcusable, but this one was found in one of the Radley trees. “Spit it out right now!” I screamed at her. She spat it out and said, “I’ve been chewin’ it all afternoon and I ain’t dead yet, not even sick.”
I stomped my foot. “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to even touch the trees over there? You’ll get killed if you do! You go gargle- right now, you hear me?” When she didn’t obey me, I threatened to tell Calpurnia on her and after I did, she didn’t question me again on the subject. Summer was coming quickly and was waiting apprehensively with Scout as the days slowly passed by. All I could think about was about how much fun we were gonna have once Dill came to visit. At last, the last day of school arrived and Scout and I were released early from the school grounds where we walked home together. As we walked by to the live oaks at the Radley Place, Scout pointed out to a knot-hole where she must’ve found her gum. Both Scout and I noticed another piece of tinfoil.
“I see it, Scout! I see it.” I looked around and reached up to grab it. I gingerly pocketed the tiny shiny package and we ran home as fast as we could. On the front porch, Scout and I examined the small box that had patchwork and bits of tinfoil collected from chewing gum wrappers. I flicked open the tiny catch and saw two scrubbed and polished pennies, one on top of the other.
“Indian heads,” I said. “Nineteen-six and Scout, one of ‘em’s nineteen-hundred. These are real old.” Scout and I debated whether or not this knot-hole could be someone’s hiding place. We came to the conclusion that the finders keepers title was in play and that we were going to keep any items we found in that knot-hole from now on. I told Scout that the Indian-heads were of value to someone and that we were to ask around once school started again.
“How’s that Jem?” she asked. “Well, Indian-heads- well, they come from the Indians. They’re real strong magic, they make you have good luck. Not like fried chicken when you’re not lookin’ for it, but things like long life ‘n’ good health, ‘n’ passin’ six-weeks tests… these are real valuable to somebody. I’m gonna put ‘em in my truck.” Before going to my room, I took a long time staring back at the Radley house and just thinking about how this summer was going to be once Dill arrived. Two days later, Dill arrived in a train of glory. He had ridden the train all by himself from Meridian to Maycomb Juction and was somewhat heavier. “What’ll we play today?” I asked Dill once he was done telling us about his black bearded father and helping engineer for a while.
“Tom and Sam and Dick,” said Dill. He wanted to use the Rover Boys because there were three respectable parts. He was clearly tired of being out character man. “I’m tired of those,” complained Scout. “Make us up one Jem,” she said. “I’m tired of makin’ ‘em up,” I said.
After our first days of freedom, we were tired. We had strolled the front yard, where Dill stood looking down the street at the dreary face of the Radley Place. “I-small-death,” he said. “I do, I meant it,” Dill said when Scout told him to shut up. “you mean when somebody’s dyin’ you can smell it?” Scout asked. “No, I mean I can smell somebody an’ tell if they’re gonna die.” Dill leaned over Scout and sniffed her. “Jean Louise Finch, you are going to die in three days.”
“Dill if you hush I’ll knock you bowlegged. I mean it, now—“
“Yawl hush,” I growled, “you act like you believe in Hot Steams.”
“What’s a Hot Steam?” asked Dill.
I asked him if he had ever walked along a lonesome road at night and passed by a hot place and told him that a Hot Steam was somebody who couldn’t get to heaven. Somebody who just wallows around on lonesome roads an’ that if you walked through them, when you die you’ll become one too, an’ you’ll go around at night suckin’ people’s breath.
“How can you keep from passing through one?” he asked. I told him you couldn’t. Scout told Dill that he shouldn’t believe a word I said and wouldn’t shut it so I finally spoke up and said, “Well, are we gonna play anything or not?” Scout suggested that we roll in the tire and sighed because I knew I was too big. Scout told me that I could push her. She ran to the backyard and pulled on old car tire from under the house. She slapped it up to the front yard. “I’m first,” she announced. When she folded herself inside, I decided to push her down the sidewalk with all the strength that I had in my body that would later then compensate for what she said. I chased her down the sidewalk and shouting as loud as I possible could until I saw whose lawn she had landed into. “Scout, get away from there, come on!” She raised her head and stared at the Radley Place steps in front of her. I began to shout at her. “Come on, Scout, don’t just lie there! Get up, can’tcha? Get the tire! Bring it with you! Ain’t you got any sense at all?” Scout ran back to us as fast as her shaky legs would allow her to. “Why didn’t you bring it?” I yelled.
“Why don’t you get it?” she screamed. I looked at her furiously and then ran down the side walk, treaded water at the gate, then dashed in and retrieved the tire. I looked at her triumphantly, “See there? Nothin’ to it. I swear Scout, sometimes you act so much like a girl it’s mortifyin’.” I knew there was more to why she was all scared but threw that in just for my benefit. Calpurnia appeared in the front door and yelled, “Lemonade time! You all get in outa that hot sun ‘fore you fry alive!” I gulped down my second glassful and slapped my chest. “I know what were going to play,” I announced. “Something new, something different”
“What is it Jem?” asked Dill.
“Boo Radley.” Dill asked how it went and I started giving out roles. “Scout, you can be Mrs. Radley”
Scout began to declare if she was or not. “ ‘Smatter?,” said Dill. “Still scared?”
“He can get out at night when we’re all asleep…” she said. “Oh Scout. How’s he gonna know what we’re doin’? Besides, I don’t think he’s still there. He dies years ago and they stuffed him up the chimney.”
“Jem, you and me can play and Scout can watch if she’s scared,” said Dill. Scout decided to toughen up and play and so I parceled the roles. Scout was going to be Mrs. Radley, and all she had to do in the game was come out and sweep the porch. Dill was Mr. Radley, all he had to do was walk up and down the sidewalk and cough when I spoke to him. I, naturally, was Boo. I went under the front steps and shrieked and howled from time to time. As the summer progressed, so did our game. We added dialogue and even a plot until we had manufactured a small play upon which we rang changes to everyday.
The three of us were the boys who got in trouble; Scout was the probate judge and Dill led me away and crammed me beneath the steps, poking me with a brush broom. I would reappear when needed in the shapes of the sheriff, assorted townsfolk, and Miss Stephanie Crawford, who had more to say about the Radleys than anybody in Maycomb. When it was time to play Boo’s big scene, I would sneak into the house and steal scissors from the sewing machine drawer then sit in the swing and cut up newspapers. Dill would walk by me, cough, and I would fake a plunge into Dill’s thigh. Our activities would be put on a halt when any of our neighbors appeared. One day we were so busily playing Chapter XXV, Book II of One Man’s Family, that we did not see Atticus standing on the sidewalk looking at us and slapping a rolled magazine against his knee.
“What are you all playing?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I said. I hadn’t exactly told Dill or Scout to keep our game a secret but I hoped that they would get the idea from my intervention.
“What are you doing with those scissors then? Why are you tearing up that newspaper? If it’s today’s I’ll tan you.” Atticus’ tone was firm and demanding.
“Nothing,” I repeated.
“Nothing what?”
“Nothing, sir.”
“Give me those scissors,” said Atticus. “They’re no things to play with. Does this by any chance hace anything to do with the Radleys?” He asked.
“No sir,” I said, probably reddening.
“I hope it doesn’t,” he said shortly. He went inside the house but when Dill or Scout began to say anything, I told them to shut up and that he could hear every word we said.
Girls always imagined things, that’s why other people hate them so, and if Scout started behaving like one, she could just go off and find some to play with.
TO BE CONTINUED….
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I stomped my foot. “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to even touch the trees over there? You’ll get killed if you do! You go gargle- right now, you hear me?” When she didn’t obey me, I threatened to tell Calpurnia on her and after I did, she didn’t question me again on the subject. Summer was coming quickly and was waiting apprehensively with Scout as the days slowly passed by. All I could think about was about how much fun we were gonna have once Dill came to visit. At last, the last day of school arrived and Scout and I were released early from the school grounds where we walked home together. As we walked by to the live oaks at the Radley Place, Scout pointed out to a knot-hole where she must’ve found her gum. Both Scout and I noticed another piece of tinfoil.
“I see it, Scout! I see it.” I looked around and reached up to grab it. I gingerly pocketed the tiny shiny package and we ran home as fast as we could. On the front porch, Scout and I examined the small box that had patchwork and bits of tinfoil collected from chewing gum wrappers. I flicked open the tiny catch and saw two scrubbed and polished pennies, one on top of the other.
“Indian heads,” I said. “Nineteen-six and Scout, one of ‘em’s nineteen-hundred. These are real old.” Scout and I debated whether or not this knot-hole could be someone’s hiding place. We came to the conclusion that the finders keepers title was in play and that we were going to keep any items we found in that knot-hole from now on. I told Scout that the Indian-heads were of value to someone and that we were to ask around once school started again.
“How’s that Jem?” she asked. “Well, Indian-heads- well, they come from the Indians. They’re real strong magic, they make you have good luck. Not like fried chicken when you’re not lookin’ for it, but things like long life ‘n’ good health, ‘n’ passin’ six-weeks tests… these are real valuable to somebody. I’m gonna put ‘em in my truck.” Before going to my room, I took a long time staring back at the Radley house and just thinking about how this summer was going to be once Dill arrived. Two days later, Dill arrived in a train of glory. He had ridden the train all by himself from Meridian to Maycomb Juction and was somewhat heavier. “What’ll we play today?” I asked Dill once he was done telling us about his black bearded father and helping engineer for a while.
“Tom and Sam and Dick,” said Dill. He wanted to use the Rover Boys because there were three respectable parts. He was clearly tired of being out character man. “I’m tired of those,” complained Scout. “Make us up one Jem,” she said. “I’m tired of makin’ ‘em up,” I said.
After our first days of freedom, we were tired. We had strolled the front yard, where Dill stood looking down the street at the dreary face of the Radley Place. “I-small-death,” he said. “I do, I meant it,” Dill said when Scout told him to shut up. “you mean when somebody’s dyin’ you can smell it?” Scout asked. “No, I mean I can smell somebody an’ tell if they’re gonna die.” Dill leaned over Scout and sniffed her. “Jean Louise Finch, you are going to die in three days.”
“Dill if you hush I’ll knock you bowlegged. I mean it, now—“
“Yawl hush,” I growled, “you act like you believe in Hot Steams.”
“What’s a Hot Steam?” asked Dill.
I asked him if he had ever walked along a lonesome road at night and passed by a hot place and told him that a Hot Steam was somebody who couldn’t get to heaven. Somebody who just wallows around on lonesome roads an’ that if you walked through them, when you die you’ll become one too, an’ you’ll go around at night suckin’ people’s breath.
“How can you keep from passing through one?” he asked. I told him you couldn’t. Scout told Dill that he shouldn’t believe a word I said and wouldn’t shut it so I finally spoke up and said, “Well, are we gonna play anything or not?” Scout suggested that we roll in the tire and sighed because I knew I was too big. Scout told me that I could push her. She ran to the backyard and pulled on old car tire from under the house. She slapped it up to the front yard. “I’m first,” she announced. When she folded herself inside, I decided to push her down the sidewalk with all the strength that I had in my body that would later then compensate for what she said. I chased her down the sidewalk and shouting as loud as I possible could until I saw whose lawn she had landed into. “Scout, get away from there, come on!” She raised her head and stared at the Radley Place steps in front of her. I began to shout at her. “Come on, Scout, don’t just lie there! Get up, can’tcha? Get the tire! Bring it with you! Ain’t you got any sense at all?” Scout ran back to us as fast as her shaky legs would allow her to. “Why didn’t you bring it?” I yelled.
“Why don’t you get it?” she screamed. I looked at her furiously and then ran down the side walk, treaded water at the gate, then dashed in and retrieved the tire. I looked at her triumphantly, “See there? Nothin’ to it. I swear Scout, sometimes you act so much like a girl it’s mortifyin’.” I knew there was more to why she was all scared but threw that in just for my benefit. Calpurnia appeared in the front door and yelled, “Lemonade time! You all get in outa that hot sun ‘fore you fry alive!” I gulped down my second glassful and slapped my chest. “I know what were going to play,” I announced. “Something new, something different”
“What is it Jem?” asked Dill.
“Boo Radley.” Dill asked how it went and I started giving out roles. “Scout, you can be Mrs. Radley”
Scout began to declare if she was or not. “ ‘Smatter?,” said Dill. “Still scared?”
“He can get out at night when we’re all asleep…” she said. “Oh Scout. How’s he gonna know what we’re doin’? Besides, I don’t think he’s still there. He dies years ago and they stuffed him up the chimney.”
“Jem, you and me can play and Scout can watch if she’s scared,” said Dill. Scout decided to toughen up and play and so I parceled the roles. Scout was going to be Mrs. Radley, and all she had to do in the game was come out and sweep the porch. Dill was Mr. Radley, all he had to do was walk up and down the sidewalk and cough when I spoke to him. I, naturally, was Boo. I went under the front steps and shrieked and howled from time to time. As the summer progressed, so did our game. We added dialogue and even a plot until we had manufactured a small play upon which we rang changes to everyday.
The three of us were the boys who got in trouble; Scout was the probate judge and Dill led me away and crammed me beneath the steps, poking me with a brush broom. I would reappear when needed in the shapes of the sheriff, assorted townsfolk, and Miss Stephanie Crawford, who had more to say about the Radleys than anybody in Maycomb. When it was time to play Boo’s big scene, I would sneak into the house and steal scissors from the sewing machine drawer then sit in the swing and cut up newspapers. Dill would walk by me, cough, and I would fake a plunge into Dill’s thigh. Our activities would be put on a halt when any of our neighbors appeared. One day we were so busily playing Chapter XXV, Book II of One Man’s Family, that we did not see Atticus standing on the sidewalk looking at us and slapping a rolled magazine against his knee.
“What are you all playing?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I said. I hadn’t exactly told Dill or Scout to keep our game a secret but I hoped that they would get the idea from my intervention.
“What are you doing with those scissors then? Why are you tearing up that newspaper? If it’s today’s I’ll tan you.” Atticus’ tone was firm and demanding.
“Nothing,” I repeated.
“Nothing what?”
“Nothing, sir.”
“Give me those scissors,” said Atticus. “They’re no things to play with. Does this by any chance hace anything to do with the Radleys?” He asked.
“No sir,” I said, probably reddening.
“I hope it doesn’t,” he said shortly. He went inside the house but when Dill or Scout began to say anything, I told them to shut up and that he could hear every word we said.
Girls always imagined things, that’s why other people hate them so, and if Scout started behaving like one, she could just go off and find some to play with.
TO BE CONTINUED….
Journal #1- Chapters 1-3 (Miss Caroline)
The first day of school is always the best for me, but this year is different. I just came from Winston County and hopefully everyone will accept me into this small town of Maycomb. As it is my first day as a teacher in my new school, I chose to wear my red- and- white striped dress and high-heeled pumps, and just to spice things up a bit, I put on my peppermint body spray. When kids walked in the room I could tell that my outfit was a bit eccentric but I enjoyed it. Today I am going to read a book about cats and tell them a little bit about me, as I am going to be their first grade teacher. I heard that the kids here aren’t very well educated and that’s exactly how I like it. Its easier when the students aren’t able to read or write. Why? Well to me it gives me a chance to be like there mothers out of the house and teach them from scratch.
As the sudents walked into my classroom, I walked over to the blackboard and printed my name. “This says I am Caroline Fisher. I am from North Alabama, from Winston County.” Just as I said that, the class mummured apprehensively. I couldn’t understand what they could’ve found amussing but I assumed it was just a mumur because I was new here. I continued to read them the story about cats. The cats had long conversations, wore cunning clothes, and lived in warm houses underneath the kitchen stove. By about the time Mrs. Cat called the drugstore for chocolate, the class was wiggling around like worms. “Oh, my, wasn’t that nice?” The way they moved around irked me but I set the book down and began to write the alphabet up on the board. I asked if anyone knew what the letters I had just printed were and was surprised when everyone did. I found out the apparently all of the kids had failed the first grade before. I chose a girl who looked medium built and looked as though she was paying attention. As she began to read through the alphebet, my eyesbrows pulled together in confusion. I asked this girl to read from My First Reader and The Mobile Register. This girl presevered and was literate. “Tell your father to stop teaching you . It interferes with your reading and that is no good.”
“Teach me?” She sounded surprised. “He hasn’t taught me anything, Miss Caroline. Atticus ain’t got time to teach me anything.” I shook my head.
“If he doesn’t teach you then who did? Somebody did. You weren’t just born reading The Mobile Register.” This girl just kept mentioning this boy named Jem, as if I would have even the slightest idea of who he was, and knew this girl must’ve been lying to me. “Now you tell your father not to teach you any more. It’s best to begin reading with a fresh mind. You tell him I’ll take over from here and try to undo the damage-“ The girl interrupted me mid sentence.
“Ma’am?” I said that her father doesn’t know how to teach and to take a seat. The girl murmured something in-audiable under her breath and decided to leave it alone. After recess, I would show them the words “the,” “cat,” “rat,” “man,” and “you.” When doing so, I caught her writing some letter to someone.
“Tell your father to stop teaching you. Besides, we don’t write in first grade, we print. You won’t learn how to write until you’re in the thrid grade.” By this time, she was really starting to annoy me and knew that lunch was about to begin so decided to ask the class is they all had soemthing to eat. The students who did have their lunch set them on the top of their desk and I walked up and down the rows, peering into every students lunches. Some lunches didn’t seem quite pleasing to me and cringed at some, but then I stopped in front of this boy who appeared as if he was starved. “Where’s yours?” I ased him. He told everyone in the first grade that he had hookworms. He wasn’t wearing any shoes but diid have a clean shirt and neatly mended overalls. “Did you forget your lunch this morning?” The boy didn’t answer me so I repeated myself. “Did you forget your lunch this morning?” This time I saw his jaw twitch and heard him mutter, “Yeb’m.”
I went to my desk and opened my bag and pulled out a quarter and handed it to the poor starved boy. “Go and eat downtown today. You can pay me abck tomorrow.” He refused. Who would refuse a meal? I found this very odd and knew that he was fooling everyone if he denied that he needed food. Poor boy looked as skinny as a bone and insisted that he take the quarter out of my hand. “Go on and tell her Scout,” I heard a student point out. I turned her way and saw her hesitate. She slowly arose our of her seat and announced, “Miss Caroline, he’s a Cunningham.” She sat back down.
“What, Jean Louise?”
“Walter’s one of the Cunninghams, Miss Caroline.” I was still confused.
“That’s okay, ma’am, you’ll het to know all the country folks after a while. The Cunninghams never took anything they can’t pay back- no church baskets, and no script stamps. They never took anything off anybody, they get along with what they have. They don’t have much, but they get along on it.” According to what Scout had just said, Walter is a boy who ain’t got lots of money and doesn’t eat much. “You’re shamin’ him, Miss Caroline. Walter ain’t got a quarter at home to bring you, and you can’t use any stovewood.” I stood shock still and then grabed her by the collar. I hauled her to my desk and grabbed my ruler.
“Jean Louise, I’ve had about enough of youthis morning. You’re starting off on the wrong foot in every way, my dear. Hold out your hand.” Scout cooperated with me and held out her hand. She appeared confused and looked back towards the class for an answer and then looked back towards me. I gave her half a dozen quick little pats on the hand and told her to go stand in the corner. A storm of laughter broke out and as I threatened them with the same fate, the class exploded with laughter again. Miss Blount, the sixth grade homeroom teacher from next door, came into the room and announced that if she heard another sound from this room, that she would burn up everybody in it.
Slowly but surely, the day came to an end and how glad I am going to be when the sun sets this evening. With the night slowly coming to and end and morning quickly arrising, I was not looking forward to the moment when I had to step foot in my classroom again. The first day didn’t exactly go the way I had invissioned it to go but then found myself once again standing in the middle of the first grade homeroom. “AH! It’s alive!” I screamed. Little Chuck Little had a little facination for living things .
“Which way did he go Miss Caroline? Tell us where he went quick!” I pointed my finger, which was apperently shaking, towards a boy that had a bush for hair and mud for a face. He told me that his name was Burris Ewell. “Well, Burris, I think we’d better excuse you for the rest of the afternoon. I want you to go home and wash your hair,” I told him. He was the filthiest human I had ever seen. There was only a single patch of skin that wasn’t covered with drak grey filth. He peered back at me.
“You ain’t sendin’ me home, missus. I was on the verge of leavin’- I done done my time for this year.” Again with the statements that I didn’t quite understand. Aparently, the Ewells only stay for the first day of first grade and then are absent for rest of the year. I insisted that he leave and go home but he retorted agaisn’t me and shouted at me with a very rude tone. You couldn’t deny that his pronoucement wasn’t ment to be offensive. He was just so condecending towards me the I began to cry. The students came up towrds me and comforted me with comforting words and convinced me to tell them more of the cat story.
If I got anything out of these first couple days of school, its that I have got a lot to learn about the indigenous Maycombians and that it is going to be a VERY long year.
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