Amanda: A Daughter of the MennonitesMyers, Anna Balmer
General
Amanda: A Daughter of the Mennonites
Myers, Anna Balmer
Mennonites -- Fiction
The Superintendent came to the Crow Hill school on a blustery March day
of the sort that blows off hats and tries the tempers of the sweetest
natured people. Amanda thought she never before lived through hours so
long as those in which she waited for the visitors. But at length came
the children's subdued, excited announcement, "Here they come!" as the
grind of wheels sounded outside the windows. A few minutes later the
hour was come--the County Superintendent and the directors, Mr.
Mertzheimer in the lead, stepped into the little room, shook hands with
the teacher, then seated themselves and waited for Amanda to go on with
her regular lessons and prove her efficiency.
Amanda, stirred by the underhand workings of Mr. Mertzheimer, was on
her mettle. She'd just show that man she could teach! Two years'
experience in handling rural school classes came to her support. With
precision, yet unhurried, she conducted classes in geography, grammar,
reading, arithmetic, some in beginners' grades and others in the
advanced classes.
She saved her trump card for the last, her nature class, in which the
children told from the colored pictures that formed a frieze above the
blackboard, the names of fifty native birds and gave a short sketch of
their habits, song or peculiarities.
After that the pupils sang for the visitors. During that time the eyes
of the Superintendent traveled about the room, from the pressed and
mounted leaves and flowers on the walls to the corn-husk and grass
baskets on a table in the rear of the room.
When the children's part was ended came the time they loved best, that
portion of the visit looked forward to each year, the address of the
County Superintendent. He was a tall man, keen-eyed and kindly, and as
he stood before the little school the eyes of every child were upon
him--he'd be sure to say something funny before he sat down--he always
did!
"Well, boys and girls, here we are again! And, as the old Pennsylvania
Dutch preacher said, 'I'm glad that I can say that I'm glad that I'm
here.' "He rattled off the words in rapid Pennsylvania Dutch, at which
the children laughed and some whispered, "Why, he can talk the Dutch,
too!" Then they listened in rapt attention as the speaker went on:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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