The Ridge: The Whisper of the Leaves - Chap. 27

Monday, March 15

The people of New London, Texas were proud of their new High School. It was quite simply, the biggest and finest building in the area. Laid out in the form of an “E”, it was 253 feet long, fifty-six feet wide and three stories tall. The construction was of steel, brick and mortar, and was destined, as the contractor put it, to “still be standing a hundred years after we’re all dead.” Everything about it was as state-of-the-art as an oil rich town could make it.

But, while the school was a thing of pride for all the city’s residents, it wasn’t the only thing the city had to be proud of. In a time of depression for the rest of the country, things were booming in this east central part of Texas.

Unemployment was virtually nonexistent in the Rusk County area. Houses were going up, as were new businesses, almost at the same rate as the oil rigs that were being constructed daily.

Many people wondered when the word would get out causing people to start flocking to the area as they had to California. But the word hadn’t gotten out and the residents were determined to make sure it didn’t. They didn’t want an influx of “furiners” as they called them.

They had heard the stories about the opportunities which had abounded in California. And those opportunities were real, at least until the Okies and Arkies and the rest had started heading west by the thousands. Once that happened, it was all over.

So while the people of New London were proud of their town, they became masters at underselling themselves and downplaying their civic accomplishments. And as the money continued to pour in, the people didn’t. And that was just fine with everyone.

On that March 15th, the school was a hive of activity as it always was after a weekend and especially as close to the end of the term as they were now. There was to be a Scholastic Meet on Friday at Henderson and selected students were making final preparations for that. And as they did every other week, the PTA was scheduled to meet at 2:00 in the auditorium to discuss preparations for the upcoming Junior-Senior banquet and dance.

It was 12:30 when Lemmie R. Butler, the school’s instructor of manual training, finally had a chance to sit down at his desk and bite into the ham sandwich he had brought for lunch. He had gotten a cup of black coffee from the teacher’s lounge and took a swallow of it, enjoying the burning sensation it gave him as it coursed down his throat.

Butler loved teaching.

“I’ve been doing it for fifteen years, so I better love it,” He often told people.

He also was a good teacher as was testified by the number of kids who returned to visit him five, ten or more years after they had graduated. One reason they came back was that he taught them practical skills, skills they could make a nickel with.

What good was math or English or history when the world was coming down around them. Carpentry, though, and mechanics and plumbing, now those were things worth learning.

“But,” He would reprimand any student who voiced such an opinion. “you don’t want ta just get by do ya? You’ve got to learn the other things like English and math to really make it. If you don’t, you’ll never be able to get past the “grunt” work. Someone who’s more prepared will always be there to jerk the rug out from under you.”

Sometimes the words hit home and sometimes they didn’t, but he continued to preach the message.

“Hey, Lem,” Howard Stone stuck his head in the door. “Some of us’re goin’ to Tyler to the movies tonight. Wanna come?”

“Uh, probably not, Howie,” Butler said. “Like to, but I’ve gotta get caught up on my paperwork sometime.”

“Okay,” Stone said as he closed the door, then stuck his head back in. “But we’ll be leavin’ at five-thirty if ya change your mind.”

Butler could use a good movie, but the end of the term was just around the corner and he was determined, this year, to have all his “teacherly” evaluations done by the year’s final bell. So, he finished his sandwich and cleaned his desk up to get ready for his 1 p.m., sophomore shop class.

Linda Neal was also getting ready for a 1 p.m. class by putting tests on each of the desks in her classroom. Being a “pop-test” on mapping linear equations, she knew, of course, that she would be greeted with moans and groans when her thirty-odd freshmen walked into the room.

She also knew, though, that they would almost all get to business and do their best. That’s just the way these kids were here at New London. Most of them were kids of oil workers or farmers or ranchers. Not a boy or girl in her class came from a wealthy family. The well-to-do kids all went to the private school over in Tyler.

As far as she was concerned, though, her kids were the cream of the New London crop and she treated them just that way. All in all, she considered this the perfect teaching assignment, especially after Dallas Perkins High School.

“Perkins” had been her first job as a teacher when she came out of Baylor University. The pay was average, but everything else about the school was hard put to reach even that high.

The facilities were so antiquated some said the same crew which built the school built the Alamo. Her colleagues there were callous and bitter and simply hated the kids and the administration and everything else around them. But to Linda, if there was one thing good about the school, it was some of the kids.

Most were destined for nothing special except maybe a jail cell, but some had promise and two or three were headed for better things if not for greatness. And she admired and appreciated these kids who were determined to” rise above their raisin’” and make something of themselves.

At New London, though, she got that same feeling with all the kids. They all seemed to have great things in store for them and if each and every one of them achieved their greatest dreams it would not have surprised Linda in the least.

“Not another one, Miss Neal,” Jimmy Needham said as he walked into the class room and saw the test sheets sitting on the desks.

“Sorry, Jimmy,” Linda smiled as the boy took his seat. “And keep the test face down till I tell you to start.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Jimmy said and grinned at Linda.

She knew he had a crush on her as did most of the boys in her classes. And she wrote it off as just a case of teenage hormones on a rampage. However, her boyfriend, Jackson, disagreed. He said it was logical that she should be the dream of all the boys in school, because she was far and away the prettiest teacher in the school.

“If I’d had you for a teacher,” He would say. “There’s no way I’d have passed your class ‘cause I’d have been concentrating on you.”

Linda thought of herself as probably attractive at twenty-seven, blonde and slim. But she also knew that Jackson was prejudiced and that her male students were simply infatuated. Nevertheless, she had to admit that the attention from both was nice.

“As you can see, there’s a test on your desk,” She stood up and walked to the front of her desk and leaned back on it once everyone was seated. “It’s about what we went over last week. You had the weekend to go over those assignments, which I know you did because I asked you to on Friday, if I’m not mistaken.”

Grumblings and groans were heard once again so she went on.

“The end of the year is just a few weeks off, so we need to be getting ready for finals. Your grade on this test will help you to see just how ready you are right now.”

Linda pushed away from the desk and walked briskly back around to her chair.

“Now everyone turn your paper over and good luck. You have thirty minutes.”

She then sat down and busied herself going over he roll when she heard a light tap at the door. She looked up and saw Howard Stone motioning at her through the glass in the door.

She got up and quietly went outside into the hall.

“Linda,” Howard said. “Jennie wanted me to ask you if you wanted to ride with us to the movie tonight.”

“Jennie was Howard’s wife. They were both in their 40s and she, along with Howard, had taken her under their wings when she came to the school last fall.

“Sure,” Linda said. “as long as Jackson doesn’t come into town. I’m looking for him this week sometime, but probably not till Wednesday or Thursday.”

“Well, if he does show up he can go with us, too.”

“We’ll see,” She said as she put her hand on the door handle. “Gotta go now, there testing in there.”

“Okay, see ya tonight.”