With the overwhelming response from the gallery of goodness, aka the comment section on my Facebook page, regarding the mention of purchasing “Charlotte’s Web” for my granddaughter’s birthday, I waxed nostalgic intermittently throughout a down day at the ROTK in the USA.
Maybe I caught something, but it was more likely something caught up with me. A case of the blahs, maybe? The palpable condition impacting my day was a mild headache, zero energy, maybe the feeling that I needed a nap when I didn’t? I never left the front door, but slipped out the back a couple of times with Ellie, sitting on the patio waiting for the doldrums to pass. They did, right around dinner time.
At that juncture, I felt well enough to flip open the Kindle to read for a while. But I am sure I was asleep by eight p.m.
I suspect it happens to all of us; I call it the edge of sickness, not quite there, but it’s sneaking around the “house” and looking in the windows, hoping you left one of them ajar.
In spite of that, as I slept last night, I hosted a pleasant dream about Mrs. Guptill, a wonderful teacher at the Rose. M. Gaffney School in Machias, Maine.
While most people had a different teacher for each grade at their grammar school, our family moved a lot. I spent lots of time with new teachers at new schools. While there were downsides, it created in me the ability to become personable enough to make new friends wherever I went. But I also had a few run-ins with bullies. Back then, new kids were always a target. Bullying was part of the overall landscape, actually. Something that I hope has been remedied, but I doubt it.
As a kid with an overbite, I did fend off a good number of loudly delivered “Bucky Beaver” comments, sometimes to the point that I really thought it would never end. But it did, finally, when I got braces. But not before some low-grade fistfights, something that didn’t hurt any of us for long. That’s a song for another time.
The good news is that some teachers were more cognizant and concerned about that kind of behavior, and Mrs. Guptill was having none of it. She was older, probably in her early sixties, by my best recollection, and she was old-school, even by early 70s standards.
She wore colorful floral dresses and, as I recall, often a subtle string of pearls. She donned precisely the style of eyeglasses a teacher should wear. I mean, to look exactly like a teacher would if you were asked to describe any one of your all-time favorites.
Mrs. Guptill could sing like a bird, play the piano, and often took the time to teach us to square dance on sunny afternoons when she would throw her textbook onto the top of the industrial-gray “waste paper basket” as an indicator that she was done with history as much as we were.
No, she didn’t call it a trash can, because that wouldn’t be proper.
And even the bullies square danced, despite how upset they were about doing such silly things.
But my most vivid memory, besides singing “Way Down South in Dixie” more times than I can count, was that she read to us, as a class, “Charlotte’s Web.”
Mrs. Guptill did the voices, too. I don’t believe for a moment, no matter how many times I’ve read the book since then, that Charlotte could sound like anyone but Mrs. Guptill.
So, my dream was a good one, based on whole, solid truths about life growing up in Maine, with several wonderful teachers, and a bully or two that I’ve all but forgotten.
“Charlotte’s Web” signifies, for me, a respite in a time of change. A time before braces didn’t come until the sixth or seventh grade, and teachers truly had your best interests in mind. A few select among them, knowing that everyone needs a break from structured learning, maybe even some time dancing like fools, once our desks were pushed back and the floor was quickly swept.
Mrs. Guptill put us all, even the bullies, the tomboys, the overachievers, the underachievers, and, yes, the dentally challenged, into a barnyard where any one of us could easily have been a character. And we were, in our own imaginations.
Dreams, like books, can be delightful.
From the Jagged Edge of America, I remain,
TC
*Thanks to all of my subscribers, followers, book buyers, and BuyMeACoffee supporters. You keep this train running, and I appreciate your support. tc