Free Saying Grace by Beth Gutcheon

any, then she wants to watch television.”
    “Children work at such different speeds,” said Catherine blithely.
    She was trying to remember what homework she had assigned. Math worksheets, well of course most of the children did those in class, and had there been spelling to study? Yes…and a chapter to read in geography, by the end of the month, and journals. Of course. She could not see a problem. “I think it’s very positive that Jennifer is such a committed student that she does all her homework at school.”
    “We don’t, Mrs. Trainer,” said Corinne. “We think she’s bored.
    We would like to see her challenged. And she wrote a composition last week that you haven’t handed back yet. She was very proud of that composition. It’s discouraging for her not to know her grade.”
    “We think writing is important,” said Bradley.
    “The curriculum says that in fifth grade the children write compositions every week,” said Corinne. “We want to know if that’s happening.”
    “And math,” said Bradley.
    “The children are keeping journals,” said Catherine. “They make notes about the books they are reading. They make science notes on the flowers and birds on campus.”
    “Is Jennifer supposed to be doing that?”
    “Of course.”
    “And is she?”
    “I assume so,” said Mrs. Trainer.
    “Don’t you know?”
    “She was writing a book report on Pippi Longstocking , I know.”
    “And what grade did she get?”
    “I don’t grade the journals on a weekly basis.”
    “How often do you?”
    “Well, that’s hard to say. Every week is different.” Really, thought Catherine, she was ceasing to enjoy this. Did these people think she was a robot? Did they think teaching children was like making shoes?
    52 / Beth Gutcheon
    “So do you know for a fact whether she’s written in her journal at all?”
    “I’m sure she has,” said Catherine, sounding impatient.
    “You’re sure? Does that mean you know for a fact? Have you graded her journal at all?”
    “I think we understand your concern,” said Rue, deciding it was time to impose her body between the ravening tigers and the tethered goat, although the goat seemed oblivious to the danger. It was clear to her that Catherine hadn’t the faintest idea what homework her class was doing, and didn’t seem to care. “I’m sure we all agree that Jennifer should be asked to perform up to her ability. Suppose Mrs.
    Trainer and I work together in the next few weeks to arrive at a program we can define to you.”
    “So we know what she’s supposed to be doing ,” exclaimed Corinne. So we can ride herd on her, so we can cross-examine her on every comma, is what that meant, thought Catherine. She’d had a child in last year’s class whose homework always reeked of cigarette smoke, because his chain-smoking mother went over it line by line, or did it for him. Jennifer isn’t as bright as Kenny, she thought, in case you hadn’t noticed. She felt sorry for poor little Jennifer, being hounded to meet an impossible standard, being taught to grub after grades instead of loving to learn for its own sake. She was beginning to feel really cross with these people.
    Now came the jockeying for Rue’s ear. The Lowens wanted to stay after Catherine left, so they could demand to have Jennifer switched to the other section. Catherine wanted to stay after the Lowens left, to justify herself and complain about the Lowens. Fortunately, Merilee came to the door and said, “Mrs. Shaw, when you’re done, could I have a minute?” and Rue gratefully said, “Of course.”
    The Lowens left reluctantly, not at all reassured. Catherine left reluctantly, to go and find some sympathy in the faculty lounge.
    When they had gone, Merilee shut the door behind them. “Lee wants to move to Colorado,” she said, and burst into tears.
    Rue’s heart sank. “Oh, Merilee.” Merilee’s husband had recently taken early retirement with a huge golden parachute. Ever since, he’d