A Class Art
Growing up in bomb-blitzed Manchester during the Second World War meant times were tough, money was short, anxiety was rife and the pawnshop was a familiar destination for families, including hers.
Yet, she couldn’t have asked for more enterprising and optimistic parents who held the family together with hard work, dignity and bucket loads of cheer. Her sturdy and ingenious father could be a carpenter, handyman and even a pugilist to make ends meet. Her thrifty and clean mother always made the five children well fed and clean. Even though her clothes were clean and sparking, she didn’t have a proper uniform for school.
Due to the war, rating was suitable and most schools weren’t strict to the uniforms. However, the girls’ school she attended was and the deputy headmistress punished her every day because she didn’t wear uniform. Even if she explained her personal and special reason, she would be pulled out of the line to stand on the stage as a shining example of wearing not uniform at school. The punishment extended to be barred from her favorite gym or ballroom dancing. She wished to be known about what she couldn’t do rather than could. She had to battle back tears, lonely and embarrassedly. As a 12-year-old child, all she could do was accepting the punishment unwillingly. She dared not to tell her well-meaning mother, who would come to school to protect her and even tell her father, who would be on the warpath, because she knew clearly that school would mortify the family and get them angry.
Pleasantly, her family won a newspaper competition for a free photographic portrait sitting which made her extremely excited and being eager to tell her friends immediately. However, her silent torment was that her mother told her to wear dress to school because the portrait sitting was straight after classes. Wearing a dress, she dragged herself to school, heavy-headedly. At assembly, being outstanding among the schoolmates, she trudged up to the stage without being asked, enduring the sniggers. However, being tearful, she didn’t figure out why the teacher couldn’t notice her inner thought for umpteen times.
After assembly, the first class was her favorite—English Literature—with her favorite teacher—Miss McVee. To console herself, she sat on the last row, hoping being lost in the A Tale of Two Cities. However, she had to be back to the first row—enduring the blue mood—because Miss McVee required. Did Miss McVee intend to punish her, too? She wondered. Blinking back tears, she hided her downcast mood and miserable to be selected out time after time. As soon as she sat down, Miss McVee watched her carefully and drastically, and spoke out the most welcome and spiritual sentences in the mean-spirited school. Miss McVee declared she was the brightest and loveliest sight in this entire dreary school. Miss McVee was so sorry for not having the pleasure of looking at her just one lesson rather than the entire day.
After hearing this, with the ice in heart thawing instantly, she gain back confidence and gave Miss McVee a widest and brightest smile. The rest of this day, she enjoyed it happily because of Miss McVee’s thoughtfully chosen words which strengthened a part of her soul that had never been weakened by anyone or anything since. One kind word in time of need can last a life time.
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A Class Art09-14
