New School
by
Agnes Wall
"Stupid Russian, full of lice," chanted the children crowded about the entrance of the school. I wasn't sure why they'd think I was stupid, and I never had lice in my life. I should really explain to one and all that I wasn't Russian either, but thought better of it.
It was April of 1930 and we'd just immigrated to Gretna, Manitoba. I'd looked forward to my first day of school in my adopted country. Now, for the first time in my life, I was afraid. I'd ignore them, I resolved, and turned to walk into the schoolhouse.
Someone touched my arm. A skinny girl with a pointed face and a runny nose told me, "You can't go in. You have to wait until teacher rings the bell. Don't listen to those big mean boys, I don't like them. I don't like most of the kids. Why are you wearing such funny clothes? And are you all very poor like mama says?" She sniffed and drew the sleeve of her sweater across her face.
The other girls just looked at me. Instead of a coat, they wore light jackets or sweaters over cotton print dresses. One girl had pretty puffed sleeves, another a ruffle around the hem of her skirt. Because I'd been sick, Mother had insisted I wear my winter coat. It was much shorter than the clothes these children had on. Most of them wore ankle socks while my stockings were heavy black cotton. Mama had braided my long hair like always. These girls all had short hair.
Then the teacher stepped out and rang a small hand-bell. Everyone pushed in so I was the last to enter. I stopped at the back of the room, wondering what I should do now. Several small children stood around me and didn't know what to do either. The teacher, a beautiful lady, took them by the hand and led them to some small seats in front of the room.
Then she came to me. "You must be the new girl," she said. I stared at her because I couldn't understand a single word she said. The kids I understood since they all spoke German like I did. She said something else and showed me to an empty desk. Then she went to the blackboard and wrote out some numbers. It didn't take me long before I recognized an exercise in multiplication. Great, this was easy! I knew I could do it without many mistakes. Then she passed out their scribblers and the pupils started to work. I'd brought a pencil but had nothing else. I waited and waited, but the teacher didn't give me a notebook or a piece of paper. After she'd handed the little ones some play-dough, she sat down behind her desk and began to buff her nails. Suddenly she didn't look so pretty any more. I had imagined I'd be able to show everyone on a map where I'd come from and how I'd gotten to Canada, but nothing like this happened. I sat there with nothing to do right until recess.
The playground was bare with a few scraggly weeds defying the trampling feet of the children. They milled about, shouting, pushing and fighting. Lena, the girl who'd first spoken to me, showed me which of the two privies, standing side by side in back, was for girls. One of the bigger boys threw a stone in my direction and his friends yelled, "Russian, stupid Russian." I hid in the girls' toilet and could hardly wait until recess was over.
Lena, carrying an old German fairy tale book, came up to me and said, "Teacher wants you to take the Beginners up the stairs and read them a story."
"Who are the Beginners?" I wanted to know.
"They're the kids who start school right after Easter. They're supposed to learn to sit still so they can be in Grade One in September. Gee, don't you know anything? Here, take this book and go!"
The attic was damp and airless. It didn't matter. I loved to read and the youngsters like the stories too. Then I told them of how I'd come all the way from the other side of the world. We had a marvellous time and I was delighted when the teacher sent us up again in the afternoon.
On the way home I reflected on my situation. My clothes were all wrong and I knew my parents couldn't afford to buy different ones. In my home village all the kids had been my friends. They'd looked up to me and liked me. The teacher had often praised my work. Obviously this one considered me a nuisance. The only student who had even bothered with me was the most unpopular girl in school. The others thought I was stupid, crawling with vermin and worse. On top of that, I'd have to learn English.
However there were the little ones. They loved me already and little Peter had crawled on my lap in the afternoon. Though only eleven, I decided I'd learn English as soon as possible, study hard, and become a teacher.
I've never regretted the career choice I made on my first day of school in Canada.