The Teaching Of English

 I called the Coudersport Public Library this morning to arrange for a Grab 'N Go pickup of a book I need for a writing workshop on my horizon. And when I eagerly opened the book, this greeted me.

Maxine Shear - artist, thespian, community booster and fellow Presbyterian.  Josephine Olin - though I would never have dreamed of calling her by her first name – was an English teacher in the Coudersport school, a woman I credit with my love of the ways words can fit together.

I didn't expect that it would be that way. I had heard tales from my older brothers about how strict she was* and it was just my luck that she was going to be my homeroom teacher for seventh grade.

That was back in the day when the "new school" was still new, with its rows of lockers lining the hallway and the wide terrazzo hallways, echoing the sounds of footsteps, doors slamming and the loud buzzers that signaled time to move between classes.

We started the day together with the pledge of allegiance, the lunch count and the taking of attendance. She'd read our names and we'd answer "here" or if  really daring, "present."

This textbook was waiting on my desk on that first day in seventh grade.  The typecase image in the background felt friendly to me for I knew how all those letters came together to form words. My mother did that kind of work, her hands flying between the typecase and the makeup rule on the days I'd stop in at the Enterprise office after school.

Mrs. Olin's classroom was always quiet and calm. She was indeed strict and did not tolerate any bending of the rules. No gum, no note passing, no excuses for homework undone.

As the school year went on, we worked our way through the textbook, learning the rules of grammar. I loved diagramming sentences and took great pride in putting the various parts of speech into their proper places on the blackboard. 

One afternoon, late in the school year, we were working on vocabulary. Moving through the class list in alphabetical order, we were instructed to stand and read sentences we had written using our vocabulary words.

I believe I was flashing a surreptitious grin to Susie Frederick for I had snuck one of our little word plays -  lima bean green – into my sentence and had made it through my reading without laughing out loud. 

Dick Keck, one of our class jesters, was next. Upon arising from his seat, he proceeded to expel a most spectacularly loud fart. There was an instant of paralyzed silence and then the classroom erupted in laughter. Mrs. Olin, seated at her desk in front of the classroom, simply folded her hands and put her head down, her shoulders shaking almost imperceptibly.

After a moment or two, she lifted her head, fixed her gaze on Dick and said, "Richard, your sentence please." and the red-faced Keck proceeded.

*From brother Steve, who all these years later posted this comment today on my facebook page : "Mrs. Olin was quite strict. I resented that. Even though my English skills were very strong, she could still catch me out."