A beaming Ida stood up. "Thank—"
Mr. Jordan held up a hand. "Hold on. Hold on! There are some conditions. First, the families whose children are involved must take responsibility for the school building and grounds. Second, we expect every child to pass their exams. If they don't, I want the whole valley to know—it won't be the board's doing, it'll be the teacher's!"
With that Mr. Jordan promptly stood up and marched out of the room. The other board members mingled with the excited crowd.
Ida sat still for a moment, and then allowed herself an enormous sigh of relief.
"Guess you did it again," Tom said.
Ida looked at her hands. "Thank you."
"I guess you are one airtight girl."
Startled, Ida looked around. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Tom grinned. "You know ... swell."
"Where'd you get those words?"
He shrugged. "On the radio."
Impulsively, Ida gave him a hug. Then she felt a rush of confusion, blushed deeply, and ran outside. The night sky, cloudless and moonless, was blossoming with a million stars. There seemed no end to them. We won, Ida exalted. We won!
Then she checked herself. No, not yet. I must pass the exam.
Seventeen
THE LAST TWO WEEKS of school were frantic. The students spent every day quizzing one another, going over recitations, parsing sentences, working on penmanship. Though Ida announced morning and afternoon recess, no one—except Herbert—took either. "When lunchtime came, everyone ate inside.
For Ida it was a time of torment. She felt like yelling, "Let me study! It's my torn!" But her students—the younger ones in particular—kept asking for help. How could she refuse? She was the teacher. Hadn't Mr. Jordan said she was responsible?
***
The day before the exams, Ida's head ached painfully from trying to remember everything. She could only assume everyone else was feeling the same.
"Be on time! Be on time!" they called to one another as they went their separate ways after school.
"Herbert?" Ida asked. "You going to be here tomorrow?"
The boy grinned. "May be or may not be," he said, walking backward away from her.
"Herbert," she said fiercely, "I want you to pass."
He stopped. "You do?"
"I want you to show everyone how smart you are."
For just a moment Herbert's face turned sad Then he grinned, winked, and turned away, saying, "Never know with me!"
Tom walked up to the front of the old Ford. "Want to study together?" he asked.
"I think I'd do better at home," Ida said quickly. Seeing the flash of hurt on his face, she added, "Tom, I have to concentrate, and I just can't do it if I'm not alone."
She fairly raced the Model T home.
That night Ida worked late into the evening, reading and rereading, trying to remember and review the whole year's work. When Felix came to her with his primer and asked for help, she begged him to go to one of their parents. When he did, she felt so guilty she went to help him, got frustrated, then came back to her own work.
Before she went to bed, she made her father promise to get her up earlier than usual. Then she read herself into fitful sleep.
It was the day of the exam.
Ida didn't need to be woken. She was already half awake at four o'clock. She read some more, then raced quickly to the barn.
It was raining, and the yards were muddy. In her haste, Ida slipped twice, banging her knees hard and muddying her clothing.
"I can't do it," Ida said to herself as she milked Bluebell. "I had to help everybody pass their exams. They mustn't, mustn't fail. It's going to be my fault if they do. I'm responsible. I was the teacher."
Ida had resisted tears for so long, but now, exhausted and wrought up, she finally let them come. The deep, racking sobs were loud enough to cause the cow to turn around and see what was happening.
Ashamed, Ida pushed her face against Bluebell's belly, dried her tears with the hem of her nightgown, then finished the milking. Composing herself, she carefully brought the full bucket into the kitchen.
"What's the matter, Ida?" her mother asked.
Ida shook her head. "Nothing," she said.
Mrs. Bidson continued to stare at her. "Yes, there is," she persisted. "You've been crying."
"Ma, I'm so tired!"
"Look at me."
"Don't want to."
"Honey, I need to tell you something. Your pa and I are really proud of you. You've worked very hard."
"Ma, I keep remembering what Mr. Jordan said: Girls don't need to go to high school."
"Only shows that some grown-ups could use some schooling themselves."
Ida smiled and gave her mother a quick hug, then climbed into the loft, and changed her clothes. She started to put up her hair—as she had been doing every morning since she'd begun teaching—then remembered she didn't need to anymore. "I'm a student again," she muttered.
"Come on, get dressed," she told Felix as she woke him. "Can't be late for exam day. It's raining. Wear your slicker. The road's going to be bad."
They left a little early, Felix taking his place among the pedals and Ida clutching the steering wheel with two hands.
Both their parents waved them off, calling, Good luck!"
As Ida and Felix drove along, the rain was still coming down hard, making it difficult to see. The windowless doors meant they were getting wet, too. Besides, Ida's head was so full of facts and figures, she had a hard time concentrating on the road.
"Ida," Felix called up when they were about halfway along their journey, "what's the matter?"
"Nothing."
"You think we're going to fail, don't you?"
"You're going to do fine."
"Then what?"
"Felix," Ida snapped, "I'm trying to think about my own test." She wiped the rainwater off her face.
"Do you think you'll fail?"
"Stop talking to me!" Ida yelled at him, and pulled down the gas lever. The car accelerated faster than Ida expected. "Brake! Brake!" she yelled.
Frightened by the alarm in Ida's voice, Felix shoved down the brake pedal with both hands.
The wheels locked. The car skidded. Ida spun the wheel. Too late. The car slid into a ditch. The motor backfired and died.
"What happened?" Felix asked.
"We've gone off the road," Ida said, horrified.
Ida sat there, leaning on the wheel, too numb to do anything.
Felix crawled up to the seat next to her. "Ida," he asked cautiously as he tried to peer outside, "how far are we from school?"
"I don't know," Ida said. "Halfway, maybe."
"What are we going to do?"
"Walk, I suppose."
"We ... going to miss the exams?"
Ida said nothing.
"Are we?"
"Probably."
"But we have do something!" Felix cried.
Ida peered out through the windshield. It was so spattered with leaves and mud that she couldn't see anything.
Suddenly a face appeared at the side door. Felix and Ida jumped. Tom, his hair plastered down with rain, was standing there. Mary was by his side.
"What you doing?" Tom asked, grinning. "Playing hooky?"
Ida didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
"Want a lift?" Tom said. "I'm pretty sure old Ruckus can carry us all."
They were the last ones to get to school, but Miss Sedgewick had not yet arrived. The rain had probably delayed her, too.
Ida looked around. Natasha had lit the lamps. Herbert had started the fire. The room was neat save for a few muddy footprints on the floor.
"Thank you, everyone. Let's take our seats."
Ida went to the teacher's desk and made sure that sharp pencils were ready and that the blackboard was clean and supplied with chalk.
There was a knock on the door. Felix ran to open it. It was Miss Sedgewick. This time, aside from her purse, she carried a briefcase and
an umbrella. "May I come in, Miss Bidson?" she asked.
"Yes, please. And I'm just Ida today."
Miss Sedgewick looked at Ida's wet hair and smiled. "Have you been swimming again?" she asked.
"The rain," Ida said lamely. "My car ran off the road. Tom and Mary had to rescue us."
"Oh dear!" said Miss Sedgewick. "Can you take your exam?"
"I want to," Felix said.
"Me, too," said Ida.
Miss Sedgewick smiled broadly then said, "Then we had best begin. Tom—that is your name?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"As the day progresses, I'd like you to keep the fibre going."
Ida went to her old place on the bench next to Tom. He gave her an encouraging smile. Feeling very tense, Ida tried to smile back but barely succeeded.
Miss Sedgewick opened her briefcase. "There are two parts to your exams," she announced to the students. "There are written sections"—she held up some little booklets—"and there are recitations and board exercises. "When I call your name, please close your test booklets completely and come forward to the desk for these exercises. I'll start with the youngest and work my way up.
"I see your teacher, Miss Bidson, has some pencils ready for you. Excellent. Now, children, I've put each of your names on the cover of the proper test booklet. Please look to make sure you have your own," she said as she passed them out.
When everything was ready she took a handbell from her bag. "When I ring this, begin. When I ring it again, we'll take rests, recess, and so forth. Now"—she rang the bell—"begin."
The children opened their booklets. Natasha and Tom immediately began to write.
Taking a deep breath, Ida quickly leafed through her booklet. The table of contents listed exams in writing, reading, spelling, grammar, arithmetic, geography, U.S. history, and science.
Ida then opened the book at random and came upon geography. The first question was:
Compare South America to North America in terms of size, shape, principal products, and population.
Ida's stomach lurched.
Miss Sedgewick called, "Felix Bidson! Please come forward and let me hear your ABCs."
Nervously Ida turned to arithmetic. The first question was:
A farmer hired a man and a boy at a yearly expense of $480. The man received $25 a month. What part of the $480 did the boy receive?
Ida groaned inwardly and then looked around the room. By the teacher's desk, Felix was reciting the alphabet in a loud singsong. Everyone else was bent over their tests. Ida could hear the soft scratching of pencils, the rub of erasers. Her damp hair made her scalp itch.
Panic gripped her. She was wasting precious time! You have to pass, she scolded herself. You must! Start! Picking up a pencil, she turned to the front page of the test booklet.
READING
Choose a poem you have learned this year from your reader. Provide the title, the author, the dates of his or her birth, and if such is the case, his or her death. Write out all the stanzas of the poem. Then write a brief essay as to why the poem is important to you.
I can do that, Ida thought with enormous relief, and began to write.
The day seemed to race by. Even though the rain had stopped by morning recess, no one wanted to be out for long other than to stretch and drink a cup of water. Lunch was much the same. Food was bolted, not eaten. After lunch Mary and Felix went to play outside because their tests were finished.
The others continued.
At two-thirty in the afternoon, Miss Sedgewick rang the handbell. "Half an hour," she informed them. "Check your work."
Then, "Five minutes! Make sure your name is on everything."
Finally the last bell. "Please write your post box number under your name on your booklet's front cover," she instructed.
That done, Miss Sedgewick collected the booklets and packed them away.
"How will we know if we passed?" Ida asked her.
"I shall start grading them tomorrow. When I have finished them all, you'll be informed by mail." She offered an encouraging smile and left.
Ida went up to the teacher's desk. Everyone was looking at her. In all her life she had never felt so drained. "I guess that's it," she said. "Thank you for working so hard. I'm sure everyone passed."
The children, too tired to say anything, filed outside.
After everyone else left, Ida remained, looking over the empty schoolroom. It seemed strange without students. She wasn't sure what she felt most, sad or weary.
Taking up her father's clock and sheepskin from the desk drawer, as well as her lunch pail from the girls' wardrobe, Ida walked outside.
Tom was waiting, along with Mary and Felix.
"How'd you do?" Tom asked Ida as she closed the door behind her.
"I don't know," she confessed. Then she looked more carefully at the three of them. They seemed very somber. "Is something the matter?" she asked.
Tom grinned. "Thought maybe you'd want us to help pull your car out of the mud."
Eighteen
THE WEEK FOLLOWING THE exam was a nerve-racking time for Ida.
She found staying at home extremely difficult. But at least there were always things that had to be done.
The worst part was worrying over the exam results. Ida could barely wait for the end of each day. Then she and Felix would drive about a mile down the road to check their battered mailbox, one of a line of seven for those families living at the head of Elk Valley.
For six days, when Ida and Felix arrived, the red mailbox flag was down. Then, exactly one week after the day of the exam, the flag was up.
"They're here!" Ida screamed at Felix as they drew close. "Clutch. Brake!"
The car skittered and backfired to a stop. Not waiting for Felix, Ida untied the door, leaped out, and raced to the box.
Inside were two pale tan envelopes, each one addressed in an elegant scrolling hand. One was for "Miss Ida Bidson," the other for "Master Felix Bidson."
Handing Felix his envelope, Ida tore open her own. Inside was a printed form with parts filled in by hand:
This certifies that Ida Bidson. age 14, a resident of the town of Elk Valley, of Routt County, State of Colorado, has completed the course of study with honors prescribed for common schools, and is entitled to enter the high school at Steamboat Springs, for the year beginning September 1925.
Yours truly,
Miss Gertrude Sedgewick
County Examiner
There was yet a second piece of paper, with another note.
Dear Miss Bidson,
I'm happy to inform you that all of your students—except Herbert Bixler—completed their exams with varying degrees of success.
Congratulations!
Gertrude Sedgewick
County Examiner
"I passed!" Ida screamed. "Most everyone passed!"
"Did I?" asked Felix as he studied his paper intently.
"You sure did," Ida assured him.
"Did Herbert?"
Ida shook her head.
"How come?"
"I don't think he wanted to," Ida said. She looked at her papers again.
Only then did she notice there was yet a third piece of paper in the envelope, on which a note was written.
My dear Ida,
I have been most impressed by you and what you have done these past weeks. If you would care to take board in my Steamboat Springs home when you attend high school in the fall, I would be happy to have you. It would cost your parents nothing. You may consider it a scholarship.
G. S.
"Felix," Ida said breathlessly.
"What?"
"I think I'm going to high school."
Last Day Exercises were held a week later in the one-room schoolhouse. The students had bedecked it with flowers.
The ceremonies, over which Mr. Jordan presided, began outside with the raising of the flag. Then everyone trooped inside. At the last moment even Herbert appeared, without shoes but with a grin.
O
ne by one the students—youngest to oldest—went to the front of the room to recite. There were poems, excerpts from famous orations, speeches from Shakespeare (to Ida's delight, Herbert recited his Caesar speech), and other bits and pieces from literature, all from their readers.
Interspersed were songs sung by all the children. Finally, each student (except Herbert) was handed a certificate of promotion, then given a handshake from the members of the school board.
Ida was the last one to be called.
As she stepped up to receive her diploma, Mr. Jordan cleared his throat. "In addition to graduating from eighth grade with honors," he said, "Miss Ida Bidson, who acted as our schoolteacher, deserves special recognition. I guess"—he cleared his throat—"we can all see that."
The adults applauded. The children cheered.
"And here's hoping," Mr. Jordan continued, "she'll go on and become a real teacher, then come on back to work here at this same school."
Herbert shouted out, "But you'll have to pay her then!"
After the laughter died down, Susie—in new shoes and a new dress made just for the occasion—concluded the ceremony by singing "Amazing Grace."
Then everyone headed outside for refreshments. A trestle table had been set up, and people had brought enough food and lemonade to feed the whole valley.
After filling her plate, Ida noticed Herbert standing alone, away from the crowd. She went up to him.
"Well, it's Miss Bidson," he said.
"Herbert Bixler, did you fail that exam on purpose?" she asked.
"Hey, I told you, I'm dumb."
"You are not. You just didn't want to get your father mad, did you?"
Herbert shrugged. "If you want to know, I've made up my mind what I'm going to do."
"What's that?"
"When I get to be old enough, I'm going on down to Denver to join the navy."