Every time I think about Louisa May Alcott and Little Women in particular I think about one of my most embarrassing school memories. So, while I was (finally!) working on my review of The Last Summer of Louisa May Alcott I thought I might as well write about this as well. It was on my mind anyway. I’m sure I’m not the only one who has gotten in one kind of trouble or the other because of reading…
The Christmas I was in the fifth grade, my parents gave me a set of Louisa May Alcott’s novels. To this day, it’s one of the most memorable gifts I ever received. They are certainly the most cherished and loved. I can’t remember if I’d read a graphical novel based on Little Women before receiving that set, but I had never read the novel itself. Over that Christmas vacation, I read it once and was about half way through it a second time when I went back to school.
I was so enthralled with Little Women that I didn’t want to stop reading it. My school teacher organized the fifth graders in such a way that we had two teachers to better prepare us for Junior High. My homeroom teacher, Mr. Jagger, was a strict, but good teacher. The second teacher, Mr. Elhart, who was just plain mean in my opinion (the man gave me a C- in penmanship the marking period that I had broken my right arm and had to write with my left). Mr. Elhart taught penmanship, social studies, and one other subject. That first week back to school, I got the bright idea that my copy of Little Women would be hidden quite nicely behind my social studies book. That Friday, I brought Little Women with me to Mr. Elhart’s classroom. When we started reading from our social studies book, I set my plan in action. Boy, did I feel all sly and smart!
I wish I could remember where I was in the novel or how much I actually was able to read when that ruler came slamming down on my desk, but I will never forget the hot fear that ran from the top of my head and down my belly and back afterwards. Mr. Elhart took my book from me, giving me no indication that I would ever see it again. Had I wet myself I don’t think I could have been felt more humiliated and dejected. I could only pray that he didn’t call my parents. I would be dead for sure then.
That weekend I did nothing but worry about my book. On the bus ride home, I anticipated my parents waiting for me at the door. They seemed to be oblivious. Still, would they ask me where it was? Isn’t it funny you assume things that are significantly important to you to be on every one’s mind? What would I tell them if they did? I decided I would just tell them that I accidentally left it in my desk (sort of true…) Most importantly, what could I do to get it back? I prayed at Mass that Sunday like I’d never prayed before.
I’m not sure why the books aren’t in the picture, but there are some interesting early 80s tidbits – like the K-Tel record (behind the Ken doll), the Rubik’s Cube and the Underoos…
I decided that dressing up and apologizing would be my best bet. Even though I felt like a dork, I wore a skirt took special care with my hair that morning. I can’t say that impending labor made me more nervous than the thought of talking to Mr. Elhart that morning. I decided to get it over with. So, before heading to Mr. Jagger’s classroom, I stopped by Mr. Elhart’s. My cheeks were red hot as I walked up to him and my eyes started watering with tears before I even made it up to his desk. I told him how sorry I was and asked him very politely if I could have my book back. He got it off of his shelf and told me never to do that again.
Once I had the book in my sweaty, shaking hands and turned to leave the room, I was starting to feel pretty indignant. I spent that whole weekend in extreme anxiety, wore a freaking skirt to school, and all I got was a “Don’t do it again.” That was it? Seriously? Well, I’d learned my lesson anyway. I never tried to hide enjoyable reading materials behind text books ever again. I’m still pretty much a big readaholic, though. That will never change.
What a great story, but what a crummy teacher! He had the opportunity to talk to you about books and get you excited about some that he loved and he just blew it.
I never did it at school but I *did* regularly hide a novel inside a book I was required to study as homework or exam revision. I don’t think my mother ever caught me. In fact, I’m sure of it – if she had I wouldn’t be here to tell you!
OK, you’re right that man was a meanie. Loved the story though, Jennifer. I could just hear that ruler slamming down. LOL I’m glad it didn’t turn you off of Louisa. Such a lovely author.
What adorable pictures! I loved the little braids too! But horrifying bad-teacher story!
Great story!! And yet another thing we have in common! I got a set of those books, too, for 5th grade Xmas. Were yours hardcover with a green binding? I still have mine. Too funny. I may be older than you though (mine are circa 1977). I loved, loved, loved Little Women and Eight Cousins best.
What a cute story i have to confess i did this my self in Us history class but with Flowers in the Attic( loved those books growing up) I never actually got caught but im sure my teacher knew LOL
Kathy, this was never a teacher to find himself taking advantage of a teaching moment.
Ah, well. I should have known better.
Laura, that is hilarious! I’m not sure if I ever fessed up about that to my parents yet. I guess I’ll find out. I regularly read until late, late into the night. I had it pretty easy, though. My bedroom was downstairs.
Kay, thanks! I figure if that’s the sound I hear as I die that I’m surely going to the devil. LOL! I’d never hold my misbehavior against an author though.
Jill, I do not remember my hair being that long or the braids. My mom must have done that, though. When Dad sent me those pictures I really couldn’t believe it was me. Was I really ever that young?
Beth, it is one in the same set! I still have mine, but the camera’s out of memory. I love it and hope my daughters do, too. My copy of Little Women is a little worse for the wear, though.
Dani, I’m so mad! Little Women is at least literature. LOL! Flowers in the Attic is the stuff of which I hid from my mother.
You got away with murder, my friend.
Believe it or not, I was never guilty of the book inside of a book trick. However, we did have that same brown carpet in our house.
Oh for crying out loud. At least you weren’t reading a Jughead comic or something. Any teacher worth his/her salt would have been pleased you were reading quality classic literature! I love the pictures BTW. Those double exposure pictures were all the rage back then!
Wow–you would have thought the teacher might have felt a little bit bad about having to take a good book away from a kid. It’s not like you were reading a Superman comic!
What was this guy’s problem? Heck, I’d secretly applaude you for getting caught with a classic. It could have been a comic book or some trash magazine, but noooooo it was a classic and he still acted like a total a$$ about it.
I wonder if he remembers the incident? I had a horrible thing happen to me in a French class once and after 20 years, I ran into the guy and boy did he remember.
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Great…heart tugging story. I sympathize with your readaholic childhood. I too was a “closet reader”. Blogging has made me come out of the closet…well maybe with just my blogger friends. Thanks for your memory.