I Thought My Soul Would Rise and Fly, page 7
We sat in a circle in the clearing under the arbor and I drew letters in the dirt with a stick. The old women who take care of the children made sure that the littlest ones were quiet, even though they were too young to learn ABCs.
Luke and Ruth sat next to me on a log and showed off what they already know. The elderly women and men recited the letters as well. Friend, I felt like a teacher. Until a real teacher comes here, I suppose I’ll do. Are you laughing, Friend? I am.
It’s July. The real teacher will be here any day now.
Tuesday, July 4, 1865
Dear Friend,
No teacher yet, but I have finally discovered why Ruth goes to the cabins every Tuesday night. People from the North called Republicans (Ma’am and Sir hate them) have an organization that helps the freed men and women learn about government and voting and such things. So that’s what a Union League is. Ruth said that there are Union League groups all over the South now and many freed people belong to them.
Reverend McNeal started a Union League at Davis Hall. Even though he can’t always come on Sundays, he’s been having meetings here every Tuesday. He also has meetings on the farms in the neighborhood. He talks to the hands about their rights and about what has happened since the War ended.
He also reads the newspaper to them. Well, this evening Reverend McNeal sent word that he could not come.
“Patsy, we really need you,” Ruth said as she led me quickly across the lawn. The crickets filled the warm night with their songs.
I started to feel frightened. Suppose the paper Reverend McNeal read was too difficult for me? Everyone will surely be angry with me, I thought. But I couldn’t say no to Ruth. And if I didn’t read the paper, she might begin to think about leaving Davis Hall again.
Brother Solomon and Violet’s tiny cabin was stuffed with people. I saw only a small patch of the earthen floor. Several children and Luke were curled up in a corner fast asleep.
Mister Joe, Douglass, and a few other men had to sit outside the open door, but they could hear everything. I tried to find the determination and will not to be fearful — especially since Douglass was there.
Brother Solomon handed me the paper. “Little daughter, now you just try to do the best you can. If there’s something you don’t know how to read, we understand.”
I felt less anxious. Then he told me that Reverend McNeal had read up to the part where people were looking for relatives. This week he was going to read about a freed men’s school that was burned down.
I sat on the bench, squeezed in with Violet and four other people. The name of the paper is the Colored American. I found the story Brother Solomon was talking about, and Friend, I am proud to say that I was able to read every word of it. But it made all of us so sad. A freed men’s school on a plantation was burned down, and the teacher, a white Northern schoolmarm, had to flee for her life.
Another teacher from the North was pelted with stones every time she entered the schoolhouse. A soldier had to stand guard outside. Is Sir having trouble finding a teacher to come out here? I wonder. I hope not.
Then I read the section of another paper, the South Carolina Leader, where people write advertisements, looking for relatives. They asked me to read each one, in case there was information about one of their loved ones.
There are no sections like this in the papers Sir reads. I kept one. The advertisement says:
Information Wanted of Mary Young, who was living in Summerville in 1861, and belonged to Mrs. Edward Lowndes, but was afterwards sold to Mr. Colder, and carried up the country, perhaps to Spartensburg or Columbia. Any information respecting her whereabouts thankfully received by her son, Thomas S. P. Miller, at Charleston, S.C.
When I finished reading, Violet said she thought I just knew the letters and a few words here and there. I thought Ruth was going to shake Violet.
“I told you she knows everything about reading and writing!” Ruth said proudly.
Brother Solomon told me not to say anything about these meetings to anyone at The House. I promised not to. Ruth said, “She a fine girl and knows better than to lick her mouth all over the place.”
By the way, Friend, today used to be a holiday. Ma’am says it means nothing to the people of the South now.
Wednesday, July 5, 1865
Dear Friend,
Ruth and Luke have memorized the letters up to J, along with a matching word for each letter. I cannot write much tonight, since I am so tired after last night. But I am very excited. Mister Joe will be picking up Sir at the dock on Friday morning. I hope the teacher likes us.
Thursday, July 6, 1865
Dear Friend,
I’m so tired. Ma’am worked Ruth and I hard today. We had to wash the windows, polish the furniture and the floors, besides doing our regular tasks. Ma’am wanted everything just so for Sir’s return.
Luke and Ruth are already fast asleep. Good night, Friend.
Friday, July 7, 1865
Dear Friend,
What disappointment today. Sir returned from Charleston without a teacher. It turns out he went there to take an oath and swear his loyalty to the United States government.
Friend, I don’t know what made me think that he was getting a teacher, except I wanted one to come so much. Mister Joe says that he’s sure the Freedmen’s Bureau will be sending a teacher this month, as the Reverend promised. I hope he is right.
Sir is sick with some kind of fever. Ma’am says it’s because of Yankees and unfaithful people like James, Cook, Miriam, and all of the field hands who deserted them in their time of need.
I know Ma’am misses Cook more than ever now that Sir is sick. Ruth sent Luke and me to the woods behind The House to pick some snakeroot for Sir’s fever. Luke spotted it first. We pulled it out of the ground and brought it back to Ruth.
She took the bottle of whiskey out of the pantry, poured a lot into an empty jar, and stuck the root inside. The roots look like long pieces of thread.
“This is how Cook used to do it, I think,” Ruth said. Then she laughed, “If it don’t cure him, at least it’ll make him happy.”
Luke knows all of his letters up to N and can write his name. Ruth is so proud of him. Friend, I am trying to get over my disappointment and just keep hoping that maybe a teacher will come sometime this month.
Sunday, July 9, 1865
Dear Friend,
Another disappointment today. I couldn’t go to the bush arbor and teach the children. Nellie is fretful again so they could not take her out, and Sir wanted either Nancy or me to be around in case he needed anything. He is feeling a little better, he says. Maybe it’s the snakeroot.
When Ruth returned, she said the children asked for me. They called me the ABC girl. I like that name.
Reverend McNeal preached today, but he will not be able to be here on Tuesday. Ruth asked me to read for them again. “You the only one who can help us,” she said.
Monday, July 10, 1865
Dear Friend,
I was able to do all of the washing and begin some of the ironing — all in a day. Luke helped me and recited his letters. He knows up to Q now, and we spelled small words.
Tuesday, July 11, 1865
Dear Friend,
Brother Solomon announced that Reverend McNeal’s life has been threatened because of his political activities. He will stop coming to the plantation and to the farms for a while, except on Freedmen’s Bureau business when he can have a soldier to guard him.
“We can still have our meetings because we have our little reader to help us out.” Brother Solomon smiled at me.
Friend, sometimes I just read the words and do not know what they mean. But after Douglass and Brother Solomon and the others discuss it, I understand a little. Some of the Republicans want the freed men to have the right to vote. Only the men can vote, not the women.
I don’t know why women can’t vote, too. The women on Davis Hall (except for Nancy, Ma’am, and Sarah) work just like the men do.
I like to read the advertisements because maybe one day I will read one that says “looking for information about a girl named Patsy who walks with a limp.”
Wednesday, July 12, 1865
Dear Friend,
The teacher should be here soon. So today Luke and I swept the spinning house and wiped the bench and the teacher’s table. Then Luke said, “Patsy, you be the teacher.” I stood behind the little table and Luke sat on the bench. We played school for a little while. He knows his letters now from A–Z and recited them all. I’m so proud of him. We were just playing, but it almost felt real to me.
Thursday, July 13, 1865
Dear Friend,
I heard the best news. Reverend McNeal came to the plantation today to tell us that the Freedmen’s Bureau has found a teacher for us! She will be here on Friday, July 28. Luke is so excited. He can’t wait to show the teacher how much he already knows. Now I really must find myself a suitable second name.
Friday, July 14, 1865
Dear Friend,
Somehow Mister Joe found the time to make a chair to put behind the teacher’s table. It seems kind of little and rickety, so I hope the teacher is thin and small.
Sunday, July 16, 1865
Dear Friend,
It was a pretty morning. The sky so blue, trimmed with soft puffs of white clouds. When I went to the bush arbor, the children were waiting for me. They have remembered only a few letters. But one little girl remembered all of the letters I had shown them, up to E. Some of the children pay attention, but others are too little. One of the old women swats a little boy like a fly every five minutes to keep him quiet.
Everyone is so excited because we will soon have a real school and a real teacher.
Monday, July 17, 1865
Dear Friend,
Today I was able to wash and do half the ironing, too. All by myself.
I think if Luke had a book, he would learn how to read. He is able to pick out words from the old newspapers Ruth and I collect. He can read simple words like one, and, the, and two, and he and Ruth know how to read and write their names.
Tuesday, July 18, 1865
Dear Friend,
There is no Union League meeting this evening. Mister Joe didn’t have time to buy a paper. The men and women are exhausted. They work until it is completely dark. Ten more days, but I am trying not to get too excited over the teacher this time because I don’t want to be disappointed again.
Sunday, July 23, 1865
Dear Friend,
I brought paper and a pen with me to the arbor this time and wrote some of the children’s names for them on paper that I cut into small pieces, so every child could have one. When the teacher comes on Friday, she will be surprised to see that some of the children have begun to learn their letters. A few can already spell their names!
Tuesday, July 25, 1865
Dear Friend,
There was no meeting tonight either. Ruth says that some people think they should not be concerned about politics and voting. They should worry only about schools and land.
The sun feels as if it has tongues of fire that lick your face and back. The only children who are playing are the very little ones. Every child is in the field carrying water to the hands. Everyone has to work in order to get a decent crop. Ruth even let Luke carry water to Mister Joe.
Wednesday, July 26, 1865
Dear Friend,
Today Nancy saw Luke sitting at the table in the shed studying new words I’d written for him. She asked him what he was doing. He told her that he was learning his letters. I continued to wash the rice, making believe that I didn’t hear a thing. “Who show you how to read?”
“Patsy,” he said. Nancy laughed all the way down the passageway and back to The House. I don’t care about Nancy laughing. I know the truth. I can read and write and she can’t. Will she go to school with the rest of us? I wonder.
Friday, July 28, 1865
Dear Friend,
When I saw Reverend McNeal walk through the gate escorted by a Yankee soldier, I knew that the teacher wasn’t coming. They walked toward the quarters, and Ruth and I followed them.
People left the fields when they saw the Reverend. “No one will board the teacher,” he explained.
The family she was going to live with was threatened by their neighbors when they found out that the teacher was a Northerner who was going to teach in a school for black children. Several neighbors said that they would burn down the family’s house. Other families are now afraid to take the teacher in. Many of the Southerners say that the Northern teachers are troublemakers, filling the heads of the freed people and their children with dangerous ideas.
Reverend McNeal promised that his church would try to send down a black teacher who could live with a black family.
“Unfortunately,” he said, “it would be unthinkable in these times for a black teacher to board with a white family, or a white teacher to board with a black family. But this is not the end; it is still only the beginning. You will have a school. Our church will still send you the books, and a teacher as well.”
Ruth and I walked slowly back across the lawn with Luke skipping in front of us. Ruth said, “My Luke is going to school. I’m not staying here to keep living like a slave.”
Her words sound in my ears still as I write. Ruth and Luke are snoring softly and the crickets are singing. There will never be a teacher or a school here at Davis Hall.
But tonight, even though we are upset about the teacher, I still went over the letters with Ruth and Luke. They have learned everything I taught them.
Could I bring children from the quarters to the spinning house on Sundays perhaps, and show them their letters until a real teacher comes? I could read them stories from the books the Reverend is sending to us. It would be almost like a school.
Friend, this is probably a fool thought. I am no teacher, but I’m so afraid Ruth will leave if I don’t do something soon.
Saturday, July 29, 1865
Dear Friend,
This morning as Ruth and I prepared breakfast I asked her if I could show the children their letters in the spinning house.
At first she seemed as if she didn’t understand me, but I wouldn’t give up. “Until, until, the real teacher comes.”
Suddenly, dimples decorated her face. This is what she said: “Patsy, yes, yes. Of course. Lord, here we is with a teacher all along and looking for someone on the outside.” She snatched me by the shoulders so hard, I thought she was going to fling me across the yard. “Oh, Patsy, what you mean until the real teacher come? You are the real teacher! You the only one among us who can read and write. So, you the teacher!”
Well, Friend, Ruth is an excitement kind of person. Of course I couldn’t get a word in. For a moment I felt nervous, for I am no real teacher. But Ruth said I was the teacher and rushed to the quarters to tell Violet.
I hope I don’t seem foolish tomorrow when I bring the children into the spinning house.
Sunday, July 30, 1865
Dear Friend,
I almost feel like a real teacher!
At first, when I went to the spinning house, I felt anxious as the children all stared at me. I thought I’d stammer myself right out of the room. So I began by reciting the alphabet. The children repeated after me, and I calmed down some. Then I asked Luke to say his letters.
He popped up off the ground and, loud and proud as you please, recited from A to Z. Ruth stood by the door, her arms folded. She was grinning from ear to ear. I asked the other children to recite also. None knew past E and most only remembered A, B, and C.
Some of them still had the pieces of paper I’d given them with their names written on them. Since most of them had taken the last name of Davis, I taught the letter D, using the name Davis, and other easy words like dog and day. Friend, I cannot describe how happy I am when I am with the children.
Tuesday, August 1, 1865
Dear Friend,
Reverend McNeal was at the meeting tonight, so I didn’t have to go and read the paper. I miss it a little though. I asked Ruth to save the section of the paper where people are looking for relatives. I like to read that. And who knows, someone might be looking for me.
Luke is already fast asleep. Good night, Friend.
Wednesday, August 2, 1865
Dear Friend,
The cotton fields are covered with ivory-colored petals. The bolls will soon open.
Still no teacher, but Mister Joe says that he thinks we might get one by September. He says, “In the meantime, we have our own little teacher.” It was a nice thought that rested with me all day. But I still long to go to school. Is Mister Joe’s daughter still in school? I wonder.
Sunday, August 6, 1865
Dear Friend,
We were not at the arbor very long this morning because people had to go back to the fields. The older children now have to work as well. Several of the elderly women who mind the children know some of their letters, too. They say they will help the little ones during the week, since they see them more than I do.
But now the fields come first. The cotton is ready to be picked. When I am showing the children their letters I forget all the things that worry me — Ruth leaving, someone claiming me, going to a real school, having books to read, finding a name for myself.
