Post Eight

There was an abundance of young men in Proctor during those days—young men from Amherst, Williams, and Harvard who were just trying their wings in the field of industry. As a result, there was usually a surplus of men over girls, which was quite beneficial for the girls.

One day at lunchtime, the telephone rang, and the person who answered said it was for me. I went over and heard a man’s voice I had never heard before, asking me to go somewhere with him. I don’t remember exactly what it was—I told him, ‘No.’ I don’t know who he was, and I couldn’t guess. Apparently, he had a bet with someone that I would go.

Later, Mrs. Fletcher Proctor asked me to go riding with her, which I did. It was a beautiful drive down through Plymouth and over Mt. Holly through the gorgeous autumn woods. During the ride, she mentioned she was glad that finally someone had come to Proctor who knew what to do. She had heard about the telephone call. I would later learn that in Proctor, everyone knew everything about what was said and done.

On the day I arrived in Proctor for my first full year of teaching, I was greeted by a group of three men who became my principal friends throughout my time there. They arrived around 7 o’clock in a car owned by Mr. Bixler and asked me to go to the Rutland Carnival with them. I had a wonderful time wandering around the streets of Rutland, where the fair was then held. We tried to shoot at targets and other games, and unexpectedly, I succeeded in shooting something! I don’t remember what exactly, but I ended up with a big Teddy Bear about two feet high, which I immediately named ‘Hobe.’ Mr. Hobart’s money had bought me the ticket. I was very proud of Hobe, and while walking up the street, someone snatched him from my arms, but then I saw Bix running after him. After a while, in the crush of the carnival crowds, we managed to reach the Berwick Hotel, where Bix was standing in the entrance, holding Hobe under his arm and smoking a cigar.

Those two years I spent teaching in Proctor were filled with happiness. Every week, one of the three young men would come to call on me, each separately. Then, one of the teachers and I—the art teacher—used to have a card party and invite them. By that time, I had become quite skilled at playing ‘500.’ Bix would also take us on delightful drives in his car, giving me the chance to see quite a bit of Vermont.

One weekend, we all went up to Essex Junction to visit Claude’s mother. Everyone called Mr. Hunter ‘Chief,” which I always thought was such an admirable nickname, for he truly was a chief—just as Hobe used to say, “Chief of them all.”

During my second year in Proctor, Claude would stop by Mrs. Stilson’s, and sometimes I’d see him for a minute or two, or he’d leave a small package of candy on the stairs for me. But what distressed me most was when he would appear at the window of my classroom to watch me teach.

In the spring, they used to have a Teacher’s Meeting for all teachers of the county, and Mr. Beebe asked me to have a class just as I did every day to show the other teachers how I did it, and he promised to bring me some new books to use. Of course, I had to do it, even though earlier in the year at a teacher’s meeting, he had said I had to control my children better in front of everyone.  This humiliated me so much that afterward I told him I couldn’t accept the check because I felt I hadn’t earned it. Of course, he insisted I keep it. Anyway, I had my prize class, and we read from the new books from which I tore pages, and they read beautifully. They were a beautiful set of pupils and could read anything and all in the second grade.

One of the little boys I taught was Howard Geno, the youngest in a family of six, who was given all sorts of toys to play with, including a goat and a small cart he loved to drive around. On Saturdays, he would come down to Mrs. Stilson’s and take me out for a ride. He was such a dear little boy, very handsome. When he saw Mr. Hunter at the classroom window, he wrote me a note asking me not to go with that man anymore, but to wait until he grew up. It was very uplifting for a teacher to inspire a boy like that—and equally heartwarming for a teacher to have a boy feel that way.