Up The Down Staircase

PART III

14. Persephone

Mon., Oct. 5

Dear Ellen,

White brick sounds splendid for your fireplace, but I know nothing about flues except that they make me uneasy.

As a matter of fact, I'm also uneasy about teaching. Rumor has it that the ghost walks this week: Bester is on the prowl and is likely to observe my class. What will I do if he comes to see my Special-Slows?

Today, in connection with our study of Myths, I put on the board Edna Millay's 'Prayer to Persephone.' * Do you remember it?

Be to her, Persephone,
All the things I might not be;
Take her head upon your knee.
She that was so proud and wild,
Flippant, arrogant and free,
She that had no need of me,
Is a little lonely child
Lost in Hell,—Persephone,
Take her head upon your knee;
Say to her, 'My dear, my dear,
It is not so dreadful here.'

At the sight of a poem, they groaned—it's the thing to do. Yet when I asked who was speaking (lover about a loved one? mother about a child?), Vivian Paine raised a timid hand: 'Maybe a teacher?'

There is a need for closeness, yet we can't get too close. The teacher-pupil relationship is a kind of tightrope to be walked. I know how carefully I must choose a word, a gesture. I understand the delicate balance between friendliness and familiarity, dignity and aloofness. I am especially aware of this in trying to reclaim Ferone. I don't know why it's so important to me. Perhaps because he, too, is a rebel. Perhaps because he's been so damaged. He's too bright and too troubled to be lost in the shuffle.

I want to get to know him—all of them. One way is to help them say whatever is uniquely theirs in their own words, for words are all we have. I am eager to read their compositions, to empty the Suggestion Box, to listen.

You ask the silliest questions, darling! What do you mean, why must I float?—Because Mary Lewis uses my room for two of her classes. Why doesn't she use her own?—Because another floater uses hers. We share the bulletin board and blackboard 50-50. I'm always curious to see what she's got on her half. She says she prefers my room because it has movable chairs—the kind with an arm rest for writing surface. Her room still has the small desks attached to the floor, from the days when the building was an elementary school. There is the problem of where to fit the students' knees. You want to know about Paul. So do I. He's clever and quick and, of course, marvelous looking, with that eyebrow. But there's something about him that—eludes. He even hates to be touched by the kids; it's almost a phobia he has about being jostled in the halls. He always waits until the hall traffic subsides before he leaves his room.

He has a devastating effect on the girls. 'What I like about him,' one of my homeroom girls said, 'is the way he always leans against his desk and sometimes he sits on top of it instead of behind.'

That may be it.

You and Mother are my most faithful correspondents. She worries about my living alone in the big city, without a real kitchen. And she keeps sending me clippings from the Johnstown, Pa. papers: rape, assault, murder. With one stark warning scribbled in the margin: 'Be careful!' Only in school, she feels, am I safe.

I wonder.

Much love,

Syl

P. S. Did you know that only 21% of New York City's budget goes for education, compared with as much as 70% in small communities?

S.

15. From Miss Barrett’s Wastebasket

Scratch Paper – English 33 SS

by Chas. H. Robbins – Miss Barrett

My Best Friend

Chapter 1

My 'best friend' is considered by what we do for each other. Of all the 'friends' that I have only one (1) is my best friend and his name is 'Tony' but I call him 'Corkey'. When we go somewheres we are all ways together no matter where the place is. There are many things between he and I. If ever I would loose this 'friend' I wouldn't know what to do. Many boys and girls call us 'brother' meaning that we never part with each other and are all ways together. That is why he is my 'best friend'. (100 words exacly)

* * *

My Best Friend. Scrap paper, don't count!

I have many best friend. One of who is Johnny. Johnny is 15 yrs. of age, about 5 ft. 41/4 in. has a character which consists as follows, he is smart, a fair player, never fights with his best friends. He wears glasses and is a rather cleancut boy. By cleancut I mean dresses very neat. Why I like him is because we're great friends.

* * *

INTRASCHOOL COMMUNICATION

FROM: B. Schachter

TO: S. Barrett

Dear Syl—Let's go out to lunch and splurge at Schraffts! Forget your Super-Slows and shake the chalk dust off for half an hour. I'm tired of coffee that tastes of paper. Here I sit in this draft, like Cerberus at the Gates of Hell—guarding what? And from whom? I'll swap my Lobby Duty for your Hall Patrol any time! Say yes to the cherub who delivers this note, and let's eat like ladies!

(I understand you may be observed this morning—Give them something to write, like 'My Favorite Sport,' or 'Sea Thoughts,' and relax!)