Manuscript Continued
Comes Home
Mavis, James’ mother, told her husband, Jimmy about the principal’s brush off as soon as she came home from their visit, how he just wouldn’t take her seriously. By the time James senior took off work to go to the school, little Jamie had been in school a few weeks. He retrieved his son from Mrs. Scott’s house and left the girls there. Then they walked the three blocks to the school. James followed his father through the halls and into the principal’s office. He pointed to a seat in the office and James sat down. He told the secretary, “I’m here to speak to the principal.” He took a piece of paper out of his chest pocket and read from it. “Mr. Thomas,” he said. James’ father smiled and showed his teeth because he knew his teeth were pretty and made a good impression, even with the smell of grease that soap could not was away coming off of him. The smile left him as he looked away from the woman secretary. The secretary looked at James’ father, and then she looked at James. She smiled a little.
“Hi Jamie!” she said. James stood up next to his father and held his hand, looking up at him. James Senior pulled his hand away and put it on his son’s shoulder, nodding, and his face twitched a briefly. James Junior still hated his class, but still, he didn’t want to be in the office standing there with his father. Before James Senior died, he was able to open his own car repair shop. On this day, he had put on a shirt and tie as he knew he still smelled like the underside of a car hood.
He said to his son, “Say hello to the lady, Jamie.”
“Hello,” he said.
The secretary said to James Senior, “I’ll see if Mr. Thomas can speak to you.”
“I’ll wait,” he said, without any tightness leaving his face. He flashed a smile again. The secretary went inside of the principal’s office. He stood waiting with his hands in his pockets, playing with his keys.
The principal came out and said, “Mr. Washington!” He smiled at the father. “I believe we’ve met your son before.” He stood staring at James Senior, then he held out a hand. James Senior shook it.
“I imagine you did.” James Senior replied, smiling again.
“I don’t mean to cause disharmony in your family, Mr. Washington.”
“Oh? Are you married?” asked James Senior, his smile composed. The principal laughed and rubbed his face.
“Oh, yes I am,” he replied.
“I just have one thing to say. I just want you to hear my son read.” He held out his hands in a small plea as he spoke. “He could skip two grades. I don’t know where kids are supposed to be at his age, but my wife insists that he is going to waste in that kindergarten. He’ll behave himself with the older kids. He’s got two sisters, older. He’s used to getting along with older kids. We’re only asking for one grade. She thinks he’s up to second grade level, but for now, just one grade. If you want to give him a test, he’ll take the test.” James senior paused. “Sir, you done pissed off my wife,” he laughed and shook his head, “and so you can see where I’m at!” He laughed. “So, I can’t go back without him taking a test!” he laughed again.
The principal shrugged and smiled. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to give him a test. We have to be fair to the other students, though, or all of the other parents will be coming down here wanting their kids put ahead. He will have to pass reading comprehension, writing, and math. I don’t want you to go home to trouble. I know how it is. You can tell the wife that you son took this test.” He nodded to the secretary, and she opened a file cabinet and started leafing through it. “I have to say,” the principal went on, “I don’t think he will pass it. But he can take it and you can take it with you so that she can look it over.” The secretary handed him the test.
James, his father and the principal went into an empty classroom nearby and James Senior and the principal sat in the back of the classroom, with James in the front, alone. Little James did not know how to use the scoring sheet, and even before he saw it he felt sick started crying. He heard his father say, “Okay, Jamie? Get started.”
“I don’t know how it works!” he pleaded. James Senior looked at the principal.
The principal came up and sat next to the younger James showed him how to fill in the answer sheet with the pencil. James shook his head nervously, so stayed seated next to James as he took the test. The child told the principal each answer and he marked his answers down saying, “see, the answer to question one goes here, on the answer sheet, next to the number one.” James nodded. He sighed, shuttered, and stopped crying. “It’s OK son!” the principal said. This test is for much older children, kids who have finished the first grade. You haven’t even started kindergarten. You shouldn’t be asked to pass it. But just go on and do what you can. Understand?”
James nodded. “I know how to use the answer sheet in now,” he said. He picked up the booklet to read a short story. Then he read the questions and the possible answers and began filling out the answer sheet. He did that with the entire booklet, with the principal coaching him through the different subject sections. When James Junior closed the booklet, he had forgotten about his tremendous grief. The three walked back to the office without speaking. Once back, the secretary scored James’ test and gave the answer sheet back to the principal. She looked at James Junior smiled, and winked. He smiled back excited and hopeful.
The principal looked at the test. “Well, I’ll be damned. I’ll be damned! Excuse my language. Your son passed the test for the second grade level!” James Senior nodded and smiled a bit wearily. The principal went on.
“You know, a lot of folks think their kids are above average, especially if they’ve been to private pre-schools. In this school, half of the kids who’ve been in first grade can’t pass this test, to go on to second grade. Not with this score. Half of the kinds! If I wasn’t there myself, I wouldn’t have believed it,” he said, looking at the boy.
“That’s good,” James Senior said, smiling back. “Good, good.”
The principal looked at James. “Hey Jamie,” he said, squatting to talk to James. “Guess what? You’re too little to be in a second grader, but guess what? You’re in the first grade! We’ll move you right in with the older kids and see how you get along. How does that sound? Monday morning!”
James smiled and said, “Yay!” not caring about grade levels. He cared about the miracle of being away from Mrs. Jones forever.
“I like first grade!” he said. The men laughed.
James threw up on Monday morning. His mother went with him to the administration office to get his new class assignment. Once he got to the new classroom, he saw that each student had a desk with place for books, and although the books he was given were not as fun or interesting as his own books, the teacher looked at the books inside of James’ pack, nodded, smiled, and said, “very good!” Until he presented his dissertation for his Ph.D., he never threw up before school again.
A decade after his first grammar school experience, as James signed up for his high school physics class, something inside of him ascended beyond what Mrs. Jones had done.
***
There come a time when dreams of ancestors speaking came back, at the time when the baby named Rayne came, and so the people began again hearing the relatives speak. It started off a little and then it came to happen more and more. Rayne listened to me, and to my daughter Mary, and she listened to my mama talk about the older people she knew. Rayne was James’ sister, but only by half since they had the same daddy, but different mamas.
© Ann Marie Davis 2020 all rights reserved