So who was Mrs. Freebairn and what about Primary?
School was out at 3:30 and oh, what a
glorious time! At 3:30 the prison doors opened to the joyous shouts of “free at
last, free at last!” No more hard chairs and Teacher’s angry looks. Time for
daydreams to become reality! Unless of course you had Primary.
You see, on Wednesdays right after school a group of church going masochists decided to give us little ones some religion. It was big sister, Kay’s, holy duty (as directed by my parents) to see to it that I got my fill. So, the long walk began. Dragged kicking and screaming I was pushed and pulled across 9th East, down through the married students ‘ housing barracks, and up to a very old World War Two Quonset hut on the BYU campus. There “Torture Part Two” began!
Reverent music meant to seduce reluctant
rascals, drifted through the hot humid air. Reverence Child with arms folded stood
up front while wayward flocks were corralled. It was then that I noticed
the unknown adult sitting where my class was wrangled. Old, gray, and wrinkled, she sat in pious repose. Deep down inside my darkest soul, vengeance for unwanted imprisonment began to surface and take voice. “Oh, great! We get old prune face!” I yelled. Suddenly, shocked silence. Everyone turned to catch a glimpse of Old Prune Face and the disrespectful runt who yelled it out.
the unknown adult sitting where my class was wrangled. Old, gray, and wrinkled, she sat in pious repose. Deep down inside my darkest soul, vengeance for unwanted imprisonment began to surface and take voice. “Oh, great! We get old prune face!” I yelled. Suddenly, shocked silence. Everyone turned to catch a glimpse of Old Prune Face and the disrespectful runt who yelled it out.
Sister Freebairn turned to face the source
of her embarrassment. I was expecting the worst rebuke, but was stunned to see
a tear slowly surface and trickle down her wrinkled face. I had hurt her
deeply.
It wasn’t funny. It was painful to watch, and even more painful to
realize that I was the cause of it. I didn’t dislike her personally. I disliked
the situation.
After class Sister Freebairn asked me to
stay for a moment. She told me that she hadn’t always been old and wrinkled.
She had been young and beautiful once. She explained to me that she would do
her best to be a good teacher and hoped we could be friends. Then she gave me a
heartfelt hug and said she would see me next week if I felt like coming to
class. She had me. I would be a saint, a model boy for her!
This one made me cry. :)
ReplyDeleteThis WAS a touching story! Kids don't often realize that "older people" have tender feelings too. She was kind to a thoughtless little boy and became Francis's favorite Primary teacher!
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