Janice
by S Martha Montevallo ©2004
Janice was a beautiful, sad child of fourteen who was in the ninth grade I taught for two months at Piney Ridge. Her older sister was in the high school class I had baby-sat for my aunt. Judy was not so beautiful and not sad at all. She was a take-charge, no-nonsense, all-business high school junior who probably went on to become a successful high school principal. Janice’s younger brother was in the eighth grade at Piney Ridge that I taught English to while the principal taught math to the ninth.
John was as smart as his two sisters and full of testosterone. He was pretty pleased with himself when he got an A on his first paper. He was quite displeased when he kept getting lower grades for doing the same level of work. I explained to him that the reason the other kids were getting higher grades than they had at first was because their work was improving. It took him a while to accept the idea that standing still wasn’t going to keep getting him the top grades he wanted and thought he deserved.
They were from an interesting family. Little by little I learned some of their story. The father had been principal of the school there and had lost the position to politics. His successor, the principal under whom I was working, was in my opinion, a holy terror. I didn’t meet the parents and the other siblings until the ninth grade graduation. Then I had a clearer concept of the entire situation.
Janice was the perfect student. She was always prepared, recited and answered in a clear, reasoned, manner in her soft voice, shrinking from being noticed all the while. She was not liked. She spent a lot of time looking out the window. Nobody interacted with her, not even to tease her; just ignored her. She was clearly unhappy. At first I didn’t know what the trouble was. She was so different from her older sister and her younger brother. She was like a wounded angel dropped into hell.
During a recess Janice said, “Miss Morris, why doesn’t anybody like me?” By then I knew something of the family story. As gently as possible I suggested she talk with her parents about it. She gave a heavy sigh.
Three of the girls made dresses for their 4-H projects. Toward the end of the semester the judging took place. One girl’s dress was a jumble of puckered seams and extremely poor finishing. Another had made hers out of printed flour sacks. Nothing wrong with that except that, having run out of red, she completed the dress with the same print in orange. Both the dresses were made of cotton prints in styles more appropriate to party dresses of voile or organdy. Janice had chosen a simple sun dress with matching jacket in an appropriate woven pattern cotton. She had done an exquisite job of sewing. The only fault I could find was that she didn’t stand up straight during the judging.
The judges were all of the 4-H girls in the school. The red/orange number with ruffles took first place and the bunchy seamed one was second. If there had been a fourth entry Janice would have been out of the running. She was disappointed that she came in last when it was so obvious that her entry was vastly superior. I told her to see what happened at the field day.
At the end of the school year all the 4-H students in the county had a field day on the football field at the county seat. Janice would be there wearing her dress along with the first and second place winners from Piney Ridge. She was miserable. I told her to just stand up straight, hold her head up and smile. She didn’t have many smiles in her.
We were all there for the field day. Many competitions came and went and finally it was time for the girls to line up in their dresses. The line was as long as the football field. The day was hot; the sun was wilting the long line of girls. From the bleachers I watched Janice. Every time she looked up to where I was I would exaggeratedly sit up very straight and smile toothily. She would straighten up for a moment and send me a wan smile. The line moved excruciatingly slowly in the hot sun. The Home Ec teacher from the high school in the county seat and the home making county agent were the judges who looked over each girl’s dress. Finally it was over. Janice had taken first place in the county and had won an all expense paid trip to Alabama Polytechnic Institute (now Auburn University). She was stunned, unbelieving. I was ecstatic.
Graduation was an evening affair including a social hour afterwards. It was then that I finally met Janice’s parents. Her father was clearly a man of refinement, although modest to a fault. He looked like a caricature of an old-fashioned scholar with his longish hair, shiny black suit, white shirt, and black string tie. He stood out like an orchid in a cornfield among his sturdy, callous-handed neighbors in their overalls. His wife was delicate and soft despite being the mother of several children in a time when the daily requirements of raising a family were more arduous.
During the evening’s festivities I was the only person who spoke to Janice’s parents. I had been eager to meet them because their children seemed so much more cultured than any of the others and brighter, too. The parents were painfully aware of their pariah-like status in the small rural community. They thanked me profusely for my support of Janice and my stance with John. John was still miffed with me, although he had decided to work for the grade that he wanted, and had earned it.
A few years ago I went back to Piney Ridge, just drove through it. The fine old brick school was gone; replaced by a newer one that I’m sure had indoor toilets. I’ve wondered what happened to Judy, John, and Janice. I trust they were all able to escape, especially Janice.
Copyright © 2004 S Martha Montevallo. All rights reserved
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