Mrs. Teabody Pays Tribute
The First Snow-Fall
by James Russell Lowell
The snow had begun in the gloaming,
And busily all the night
Had been heaping field and highway
With a silence deep and white.
Every pine and fir and hemlock
Wore ermine too dear for an earl,
And the poorest twig on the elm-tree
Was ridged inch deep with pearl.
Gentle Reader, can you guess who had an acute case of stay-abed this snowy morning? Yes, you are so very right. Mrs. Teabody chose to stay snug amongst the linens reading whilst enjoying a cuppa Rooibos cocomint. Lovely. Mrs. Teabody hopes you, Gentle Reader, facing a similar state of snow-covered everything, do not have to venture out unnecessarily. Reading supine, covered with a favorite afghan or blanket, with frequent glances to observe the activity at the bird feeders is, like hotel stays, another of Mrs. Teabody's favorite things.
Mrs. Teabody has placed two verses of a longer poem at the start of today's little missive to you, Gentle Reader, because there has never been a snowfall that Mrs. Teabody has not recalled these verses ever since committing them to memory so very many years ago in her third grade classroom. Mrs. Teabody is of the age when discussing age can be precipitous to discussions of a somewhat mortal nature so she will say simply that there was a framed picture of Dwight D. Eisenhower prominently displayed above the blackboard just to the right of the little sign that read "Try." Mrs. Teabody recalls it vividly!
Mrs. Teabody's third grade teacher was Mrs. Emma Winegardener. Unlike Mrs. Teabody's first grade teacher, Miss Edith, Mrs. Winegardner wore her dark hair attractively curled, wore navy blue or black suits over pale blouses, wore nylon stockings and high-heeled shoes. Mrs. Teabody would ever see her style as the prototype of the female teacher, and other teachers to follow confirmed through their dress and manner that female teachers in those long ago days were professional people who took their job seriously.
As Mrs. Teabody observes the winter scene just to her left this wintry morning, she sees porch railings ridged "inch deep with pearl." Being able to think of fallen snow with that divinity of diction has made this first snowfall-- perhaps every snowfall-- somehow richer as it links present with past and does so with such precision and beauty. Mrs. Teabody hopes you, Gentle Reader, had or have a teacher who enhanced your life through poetry. Mrs. Teabody is forever in Mrs. Winegardner's debt.
Sir Ken was also privy to inellectual edifiction in a like manner as Mrs. T in the same hallowed halls near the Fort so long ago succumed to its demise that only an unadorned roadside marker lies testament to its once prominant role in our forefathers dominion over the lands rightful inhabiatants. But that is another story to be debated elsewhere.
ReplyDeleteSir Ken also had Miss Edith teaching first grade under a painting of George Washington that the young Sir Ken was certain was a self portrait of Miss Edith. Second grade was a life changing exercise in perseverence under duress with Mrs. Sprenkle. For it was in third grade with Miss McGowan that Sir Ken spent the last recess on Friday sitting inside trying to memorize and recite the weekly assigned and unlearnt poem. As Mrs. T's Gentle Readers can readily surmise from these barely intelligable musings, spelling and rote memorization are not within Sir Ken's strong suit of aptitudes.
It was in fourth grade that Sir Ken became acquainted with Mrs. Winegardner and what he, much later in his own professional life, realized was her strong knowledge of local, regional and world history. He also had an up close and personal encounter with her paddle for whispering in class. Mrs. T's baby sister can give testimony to that, as she sat at the head of the row and he at the end, such that she checked his weekly failing spelling test.
Sir Ken's edification at the Fort was brought to fruition under the tutiledge of Mr. Windgardner for both fifth and sixth grade. He served as the model for Sir Ken's own 32 year professional career teaching fifth, then fourth grades in the very same village so oft the backdrop in many of Mrs. T's recountings of her daily observations and ruminations.
Tootles to the Gentle Readers of TYF in the blogosphere.
Well, thank you Mrs. Teabody, Sir Ken, and the instructors at Fort Littleton Elementary.
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