Though I speak with tongues | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: Though I speak with tongues | Previous Challenge Entry
By Jacqueline Julyan
11/22/16
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Thomas dreaded Thursdays. His stomach was in knots. Normally he had no problem eating his favourite cereal Coco pops, but this morning and every morning all he could think of was the stern face of Mr Buchanan. Thomas had just moved up a class, he had loved school and loved to learn but this year he felt sick just at the thought of it.

Thomas sat near the front, right next to the teacher’s desk. He could see straight into the cold steel-blue eyes of Mr Buchanan. His nose was long and pointed like a sharpened pencil, gleaming shiny as a new sword. Mr Buchanan reminded Thomas of Pinocchio the wooden boy whose nose grew as he told lies. He wondered if his teacher told lies.

The traffic was really busy that morning going to school and for a brief moment he thought his mum might change her mind and go home. Thomas arrived late and ran all the way to his classroom which was at the far end away from the main buildings. He walked in and everyone was quietly seated.

Mr Buchanan didn’t say a word but his steely blue eyes shone with anger; his fastidious methods of teaching had been disrupted. When angry he also had a very peculiar mannerism of sorting out the chalk on his desk; the shorter chalk he put to the right and the longer chalk to the left. Today Thomas noticed his teacher was wearing a bright red tie and was exactly the same colour as his face. Peering over his precariously perched glasses and through gritted teeth he spoke to Thomas ‘I’ll see you at break’.

‘Right Shirley! Let’s get to it girl! No stuttering, I can’t cope with your stuttering girl!’ Yet poor Shirley did and through every single word. Today the task was to recite the three times table. Thomas could see the agitation of Mr Buchanan because he was re-organising the chalk on his desk again. As the bell blasted out for break-time Mr Buchanan snapped some of his new chalk and they fell onto the floor.

Finally the school bell rang for the final time at the end of the day. Every child scurried out, exhausted and downcast. Tomorrow they had to recite the four times table and Mr Buchanan didn’t want any mistakes neither stuttering.

Friday came and as Thomas walked into the class room there sat a very short, prim older woman behind the teacher’s desk. She was smiling as the children came in and on the Blackboard behind her were the words ‘Miss Rosemary Pretty’.

‘Good morning children I am your new teacher. Unfortunately Mr Buchanan is not well and has had to take early retirement, I will be your teacher for the rest of the year.You can call me Miss’.

‘I gather you are learning the four times table. Who wants to speak it out first? She pointed to Shirley at random

‘What is your name child?’

‘S … s… s…. Shirley Miss’

‘Okay Shirley, take your time, don’t be shy, off you go and do the best you can’

Shirley stood up and instead of being hunched over with her long blonde hair hanging over her face, she stood straight, there was no sign of any fear. Shirley recited the four times table perfectly without stuttering. Miss Pretty beamed with pleasure ‘Well done Shirley!

Miss Rosemary Pretty stayed until the end of the year and then she too retired. She had wanted to teach one last time.

On the final day when all the children had left and still sat at her desk, Rose looked around at all the beautiful cards the children had made for her. Different coloured and lengths of chalk were scattered all over the classroom. To one side stood an empty coffee cup and the rubbish bin spilled over with sweet papers.

She pulled out a very old, worn King James Bible from her bag and opened it at the page where a small narrow light blue silk marker was placed. She read 1 Corinthians 13. In a silent prayer she said ‘Thank you Jesus’ and bowed her head and quietly read,

‘Though I speak with tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal ……. ‘

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