FOURTH GRADE, REVISITED [Sat, 5-8-21]

REFLECTIONS ON FAITH & LIFE FOR THE YEARS OF WINTER

A whole lot of folks have gotten dogs during the pandemic isolation, which means I meet new dogs all the time as I walk our neighborhood. So, I met Miss Demeanor last week. She was quite eager to get acquainted.

She is a redbone Lab-Weimaraner mix. Just a puppy now, but with paws and jaws that say she will soon be an 80 lb lap puppy. I’m not writing anymore, for fear that my writing of the words will get in the way of my hearing of The Word, but dogs are a well-known way of hearing The Word, since “all dogs go to heaven,” so I thought it was okay to get acquainted with her. As we rubbed ears, her servant girl talked to me, too, although without the rubbing of ears.

In addition to attending to Miss Demeanor’s needs, Mattie is a fourth-grade teacher. I’m sure she’s a good teacher, but I’m not really interested in repeating fourth grade. I was quite satisfied with Miss Betsy Moore for fourth grade.

My first four and ½ years of school were at Lucretia Mott PS # 3, on Rural Street, in the working-class near-east inner-city of Indianapolis. I can remember the names of all my teachers. Except one.

Mrs. Peterson was first grade. She retired immediately after my time in class with her. Apparently, she felt I was the pinnacle of her career. Also, she was rather old.

Then came Mrs. Gilbert in 2^nd grade. She started out as “Miss” Something, but she returned from Christmas break as “Mrs.” Gilbert, which was a bit confusing. She was young and pretty.

Fifth grade was Mrs. VanMeter, an old woman, perhaps 35, but she was really neat, for she read a chapter from some exciting book to us each day after lunch. I lived for finding out what happened next in that story. She was smart; no matter how much we begged her to keep reading, she always stopped when we wanted more. She created a great love of reading, at least in me, and I suspect in the other kids.

And, of course, the Swiss Miss Betsy, of fourth grade. I think I remember her well because I can’t remember a thing about my third-grade teacher. I mean, third grade is a total blank. I was sick a lot in that grade, missing out on most of the multiplication tables and the third verse of “Sweet Betsy from Pike.” As far as my memory is concerned, I didn’t even have a third-grade teacher.

So I must have been ready for academic renewal in fourth grade, especially with Miss Moore being so exotic, from Switzerland and all. I thought “Sweet Betsy” was a song about her, that “Pike” was one of those tall mountains in Switzerland. My parents suggested that I had misunderstood and she was probably from Vevay, the seat of Switzerland County, down on the Ohio River, rather than the real Switzerland, with all the holey cheese, but I prefer to remember her skipping down an Alps slope in a Heidi dress.

Most importantly, though, Miss Moore chose me to be the fourth-grade member of the student council. That was so astounding.  I thought I was the least noticeable kid in the class, and I didn’t even know the sum of 7x7, or what a Shanghai rooster was, even though the song said she had one. But she chose me, anyway!

I don’t remember that said council ever did anything, or even met, but I was quite pleased to be one who ran errands for Miss Moore and got to present official documents to the principal whenever she came to our room for some sort of reckoning, especially since said principal didn’t like me and smacked me across the face whenever she got the chance. Well, only once, but that was the only chance she got, because I figured that since I was smart enough to be on the student council, I was smart enough to avoid her backhand. I don’t remember her name, either, so there!

Anyway, I honor the memory of Miss Betsy Moore, and I hope Ms. Mattie chooses some forlorn kid for the fourth-grade rep to student council at Binford School, even if s/he doesn’t know all the multiplication tables, or all the words to “Sweet Betsy from Pike.”

John Robert McFarland