“Danke for inviting me here today,” he said, trying to gather his courage. After all, it had been over a year since he’d had anything to do with the firefighting world and he wasn’t sure he was ready for this experience. But no matter. He was here and would do his best.
“The first thing I want to teach you is how to ensure your stove and flue is clean.” He stepped over to the cold potbellied stove and pointed at the filled wood bucket Sam had set there just minutes before.
“The wood bucket should never be this close to the stove. It should always be at least two or three arms’ lengths away. That way, an errant spark from the stove won’t strike the wood that’s in the bucket and catch fire.”
To emphasize his point, he moved the wood bucket several yards away, to the side of the classroom. Earlier, he had asked Sam to put the bucket right next to the stove so he could make this point. And he was pleased that his son had followed his instructions exactly. He glanced at his boy and found him watching intently. As a way of saying thank you, he smiled and winked at his son. Sam smiled back, looking pleased to have helped.
“Gather around me so you can see how to check the chimney flue to see if it needs cleaning.” Jesse beckoned to the students and they instantly did as he asked.
Over the next thirty minutes, Jesse taught them the proper way to check the chimney flue for cleaning and showed them how to adjust the damper so they could control the amount of heat and smoke they got out of the fire.
“At this time of year, it’s a bit warmer so you don’t need as much heat from the fire. Back east, we used hard woods like oak and maple in our fires. Here in Colorado, we’re burning Ponderosa Pine because it’s plentiful in the area and easy to gather. But it’s a soft wood that burns relatively fast. It’s also a heavy soot builder, so the flue needs to be cleaned more frequently. I recommend four times per year,” he explained.
The children listened intently to every word he said. When he remembered that first week when Becca had just started teaching here and he’d entered the school to find the students in absolute chaos, he was impressed by the order she had since established.
As the kids crowded close to see, he held up a book of matches. He was amazed that, without being asked, the older, taller students had put the younger, shorter children closest to him so they could see better. Sam stood nearby, watching his every move.
“When you start a fire inside your house or another building, you should never, ever use an accelerant such as kerosene or gasoline. It can explode out on you and burn you and the entire building. And do not play with matches. They aren’t a toy and can burn your entire house down. Don’t ever do it! I can’t emphasize this enough,” he said.
His words were a reminder of what his familye had gone through over a year earlier. A hard lump formed in his throat as he knelt before the stove to show the students how to clean out the ashes. When that was done, he discussed the proper way to start a fire and laid some wrinkled newspaper and kindling in the stove. His voice sounded calm and even as he talked but his hands were trembling. Looking up, he saw Becca watching him closely. Her forehead was furrowed and her eyes crinkled in a frown of concern.
Lifting the book of matches, he pulled one from the packet and scraped it across the coarse striking area. A little whoosh sounded as the match lit with fire. A commotion came from behind him and he turned, the match going out.
Sam stood there, his eyes wide with terror, his face contorted in absolute anguish. He had backed up, knocking into two of the older kids. What was wrong with him?
“Sam?” Jesse called.
Had lighting a single match frightened his son? It shouldn’t. But even Jesse felt a slight tremor in his arms and legs. Though he started all the fires at his house, he still disliked the chore. And then it dawned on him that Sam was never in the room with him when he started fires at home. Although the child brought in plenty of wood and kindling, he was always absent until the fire was going and the door to the stove was shut.
A small cry escaped Sam’s throat. Without explanation, the boy whirled around and pushed through the wall of students. When he finally made his way out into the open area of the classroom, he raced toward the exit. Throwing the door open wide, he ran out into the schoolyard.
Jesse stood, his lesson on fire safety all but forgotten. He was about to run after his son but Becca held out a hand.
“I’ll go after him. Please, continue your demonstration,” she said.
He blinked in confusion as she hurried after his son. She closed the door behind her. Out of the wide windows surrounding the room, he saw a flash of her skirts as she ran behind the building.
A sniffle brought his attention back to the students. They stared at him in confusion, their eyes wide with worry.
“Is Sam gonna be allrecht, Mr. King?” little Andy Yoder asked.
Jesse showed a confident smile he didn’t feel. “Ja, he’ll be fine. Don’t worry. Now, let’s continue with our lesson.”
He put his thoughts on involuntary reflex, discussing the fire extinguishers he’d
