The Toast Not Given – Part 1
Now, dear reader, you must place yourself again at the festa di nozze. The world has gathered to celebrate this union. A man in a white suit and a white hat rises to speak, gesturing with his glass of prosecco.
First, a salute to the founders of this feast. No wedding party in history has wined and dined better than we gathered here have this night. Now, as we are at the part of the feast the hobbits call, “filling out the edges” a story is in order. This is a true story in every word, and it concerns first, our Luc, and at the end our Polly. You will know after why it is that we of Luc’s first circle have so completely embraced Polly with joy.
Once there was a small boy named Luc. He was curious, smart, and bold. He climbed chairs, desks, his mother’s dresser, trees of all kinds, tall ladders leaned against roofs, and masts on tall sloops. He taught himself to read, as he was impatient when no one was available to read to him. With his father, a skilled shipwright, he learned to plan, add, subtract, measure and cut with precision at an age when most boys are learning to hold a scissors or crayon.
We were very proud of him, and he was keen to learn. He looked forward with excitement to the start of school in his sixth year. George and Betsy sent him off with confidence, and retired to the kitchen where they saluted each other with caffe’ e pasticceria.
Luc entered his classroom excited to find out what he would learn first? Looking about he saw many desks in rows, but in the back was a fine wardrobe with a nice flat top. “Ah,” thought Luc, “I will have a better view of the lesson from up there.” And up he went. He sat quietly while the other students filed in and sat in the desks.
The bell rang, and out of the wardrobe right under Luc hopped the teacher… Mrs. Dagmore! And… she was a harpy. Yes! A harpy! How she became a teacher is not known, but, she was there to feast on the souls of children.
Mrs. Dagmore
She hobbled to the front of the room, her beady eyes taking the measure of each student in turn. Luc lay very still and flat, peering out from his hiding place.
Mrs. Dagmore saw an empty desk. “Who is missing?” she croaked.
“Luc!” squeaked a potted geranium on her desk, “Lucas Merserve is the one not in his desk.”
“Hmmm.” Mrs. Dagmore took her red pen and circled Luc’s name on her list.
All that long day Luc held perfectly still as Mrs. Dagmore taught the Rules of School to her students.
Rule #1. Learning is not play.
“If you are not miserable, you are not working hard enough!”
Rule #2. Complete routine tasks as assigned.
“You will grow to work all day in a factory and add a bolt to a new car every ten seconds… Perfectly. Thus to prepare you your work here will be massive, repetitive, and dull.”
Rule #3. Do not be curious.
“You cannot be curious putting a bolt on a car. So, I will give you both the questions and the answers. You will find five questions at the end of each chapter. I have the correct answers here, in my book. Do not make up your own questions, do not make up your own answers. Never touch my answer book.”
Rule #4. Be still, be quiet.
“A good classroom has quiet, still children working diligently on their routine tasks. I want to see no movement, and I want to hear nothing except the sound of your pencils moving across your exercise papers.”
“After recess I will teach these rules again. After lunch we will write them together. Tonight, you will write them again as homework.”
At the end of the day the children filed out, Mrs. Dagmore the harpy hopped back into her wardrobe, and Old Zeke the custodian came into the room with his broom. He smiled with a twinkle in his eye, and staring right at Luc said, “You should come down now, and scurry home. But before you do that, would you mind dusting the top of the wardrobe?”
Luc took a large rag from Zeke, dusted the wardrobe top, climbed down, and scrambled out the door. He turned with a grateful smile to Zeke and Zeke waved back.
Next time: The parents make a decision
Upper Left 
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