Hannah (4 page)

Verna started to take me back to class, and the other girls ran on ahead. Halfway across the playground I heard Carl Kleino’s voice. I stood still, holding tightly on to Verna’s hand. Carl said, “I didn’t want to come up to you when those dumb girls were there, but I want to tell you I’m sorry about what I said to you the other day.” Then I heard him hurrying away.

At the table that night I could hardly stop talking about school. Finally, Mama told me to eat my supper and let them have some peace. Miss Robbin had been quiet all through the meal. Just as we were finishing dessert, she said, “I know what I’ll do.” I heard her get up from the table, and then I
heard the kitchen door slam. In no time she was back and a lot of things rattled onto the table.

“What are you doing with those acorns?” Papa asked her.

“Well,” she said, “I’ve been worrying about how I can teach Hannah arithmetic. Mr. Thomas, could you drill holes in these acorns for me? And Mrs. Thomas, could you loan me three knitting needles?”

Papa said to Miss Robbin, “You got some funny ideas.” He went and drilled the holes anyhow. Mama got the knitting needles, and Johnny and Verna and I waited to find out what Miss Robbin was going to do.

“I’m sticking these needles through this heavy cardboard, Hannah, so they will stand up all by themselves. Then we’ll make an abacus with the acorns. This is the way people counted two thousand years ago. This first needle will stand for ones, and the second one for tens, and the third one for hundreds.” She began to show me how I could add and subtract by adding and taking away acorns from the three needles.

“Well!” said Papa. “That’s a clever trick if ever I saw one. It didn’t cost a penny, either.”

“There’s one other thing, Mr. Thomas,” Miss Robbin said. “There was a blind teacher, a Mr. Braille, who invented a way of printing books so that blind people could read. I know where I can get some books, but I wonder if we could send away for his device that lets blind people write?”

“Is it free?” Papa asked.

“No. I’m afraid it costs money.”

“Well, you’ll have to forget about that.”

“Yes, sir,” said Miss Robbin. But she didn’t sound like she would forget. And I knew she hadn’t, because one day she told all of us at school about Braille. She showed the class pictures of a contraption that made raised dots that let blind people read with their fingers and write by poking at the paper with something called a stylus. Verna described the pictures to me. Then she whispered, “Hannah, it says it costs five dollars!” I knew Papa would never be able to save that much, so I tried to forget about it.

The students at school were given three days off toward the end of October to help with the potato harvest. In the sandy soil of northern Michigan, potatoes were the best crop. Papa said all you had to do was tuck them into the ground in the spring and then stand back. Everyone, from the little children to the grandmothers and grandfathers, turned out for the harvest. People went from farm to farm to help their neighbors.

Each year there was a contest on the first day of the harvest. All the potato farmers chipped in some money, and whoever dug up the most potatoes got a prize. For the last two years Carl Kleino had won.

Afterwards there was a huge supper with singing and dancing. Next to Christmas, it was the biggest celebration of the year. Even though I couldn’t help with the harvest, Mama and Papa always took me. This year Miss Robbin was going to dig potatoes too. “I’ve been teaching for three weeks. Now it’s time I learned something,” she said.

The harvest started at the Hermans’ farm. The Hermans had the county’s biggest potato fields. Mrs. Herman was a good cook, so everyone looked forward to the huge meal she put on. When the whistle blew to begin the contest, even Johnny ran out to dig potatoes. I was sitting by myself at the edge of the field where Mama and Papa had left me. I could hear the harvesters call to one another, making jokes about who was getting the most potatoes. Someone came up to me and said, “Come on, Hannah, you’ve got to help.” It was Effie from school.

Verna was with her. “I’ll show you where to dig, Hannah,” Verna said. I let them lead me onto the potato field. “Carl is turning over the ground, so all we have to do is pick the potatoes up and put them in the bushel baskets,” Effie said.

“Why is he letting us pick up his potatoes?” I asked. “He’ll never win the contest that way.”

“It was his idea,” Verna said. By now I was reaching down into the soft, sandy ground for the potatoes. They had the earth’s warmness. I found first one, and then another and another. Discovering gold, I thought, couldn’t be more exciting.

I felt for the bushel basket next to me and dropped the potatoes in. When I heard other potatoes being dropped into the basket, I thought they were Effie’s and Verna’s. Someone kept coming up to leave a new basket and carry the full one away. I could hear the other students from school nearby. I could hear Carl, too. He was urging everyone to work faster.

Hours went by. I moved down one furrow and up another, feeling for the hard lumps in the soft sand. My back ached and my shoes were filled with sand and my knees hurt from kneeling. I didn’t care, though. I just wanted to get as many potatoes as I could. It felt wonderful to be doing what everyone else was doing.

Finally, just when I thought I couldn’t heave another potato into a basket, the whistle blew. There were cries of “Hurrah!” I could hear giggles all around me. I recognized the voices from school. “Why is everyone laughing?” I asked Verna.

She was giggling too. “You’ll find out,” she said.

“Attention, everyone.” It was Mr. Herman. “I have good news. This year we have a special prize of five dollars to award.” At the mention of so large an amount, there was a lot of clapping and cheering. “All right. Quiet down. I know you are all waiting to hear who harvested the most potatoes. The winner is Hannah Thomas.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. I just stood where I was. “Go on up and get your prize, Hannah,” called Papa. Miss Robbin gave me a hug, and Mama reached down and squeezed my hand.

Verna pulled me toward Mr. Herman. “How could I be the one to win?” I asked him.

“All I know,” Mr. Herman said, “is that you filled the most baskets of potatoes. Here’s the prize. Five dollars!” He counted five one-dollar bills into my hand.

All the children from school crowded around me, asking to see the dollar bills. “Verna, tell me what happened,” I said.

“Carl turned over the dirt, and all of us helped fill your basket. We wanted you to win the money. Now you can get that thing that makes dots and lets you write.”

“Where’s Carl?” I asked.

“He was here a minute ago,” Effie said.

“He ran off,” said Miss Robbin. I could tell from her voice she was smiling. “He’s afraid he’ll lose his reputation for being a bad boy.”

Mrs. Herman called, “Time for supper.” I suddenly felt hungry. I went running off with Verna and Effie toward the Hermans’ house. All the while I was running I was thinking that this was the happiest day of my life and I would never forget it, because soon I would be able to write it down.

About the Author

“Near my home in northern Michigan is a one-room schoolhouse,” says Gloria Whelan. “Old blackboards hang on the walls. Maps show the world as it was a hundred years ago. Across from the schoolhouse is the farm where the schoolteacher boarded.

“I began to think about what it was like to attend such a school. Then I imagined the farm family, the teacher, and a very special student whose life would be changed by meeting the teacher. And there were Hannah and Miss Robbin!”

Gloria Whelan is a poet and short-story writer. She has also written many books for children, including
Goodbye, Vietnam; Next Spring an Oriole;
and
Silver.

About the Illustrator

Leslie Bowman was born in New York City, grew up in Connecticut, and graduated from the Rhode Island School of Design. “I like the nineteenth-century setting of
Hannah
,” she says, “and I had a lot of fun doing research to make sure I created the right historical atmosphere in the drawings.” She has illustrated many children’s books, including
Balloons and Other Poems, Snow Company,
and
The Canada Geese Quilt,
an ALA Notable Book. Leslie Bowman lives in Minnesota.