Our story today is called “Charles”, it was written by ShirleyJackson. Here is K Glant with the story.
The day my son Lorry started going to school, he began wearing bluejeans with the belt. I watched him leave with the older girl who livenext door. I clearly saw that this was the end of a period in my life.
My sweet-voiced baby had suddenly changed. He was now a little man whowas too full of himself to say goodbye to his mother. My son came homethe same way. He shut the front door hard, threw his hat on the floorand shouted,"Isn't anybody here?”
At lunch, he spoke roughly to his father.
“How was school today ?” I asked.
“Oh, all right.” He said.
His father asked if he had learned anything. Lorry looked at hisfather coldly. He said he had learned nothing.
“The teacher punished a boy though,” Lorry said with his mouth fullof bread and butter.
“What did he do?” I asked, " who was it?”
Lorry thought for a minute, “it was Charles!” he said, “Charles wasbad. "The teacher hit him and made him stand in a corner. He was verybad.”
“What did he do?” I asked again, but Lorry slid off his chair, tooka cookie and left while his father was still saying “See here, youngman.”
The next day Lorry said at lunch, "Well, Charles was bad again today.
Today Charles hit the teacher.”
“Good, Heavens!" I said, “I suppose he got punished again.”
“He sure did.” Lorry said.
“Why did Charles hit the teacher?” I asked.
“Because she tried to make him use red pens, Charles wanted to usegreen pens, so he hit her. Then she hit him on the bottom and saidnobody should play with him, but everybody did.”
The third day, Wednesday, Charles hit a little girl on the head with apiece of wood. The teacher made him remain inside all during playtime.
Thursday, Charles had to stay in the corner during story time becausehe kept beating his feet on the floor.
Friday, Charles was punished again because he threw a piece of chalkfrom the blackboard. I said to my husband that perhaps school was notso good for Lorry after all. He could be a rough boy. And this Charlessounded like such a bad influence.
“It will be all right.” my husband said, “There are sure to bepeople like Charles in the world. Lorry might as well meet them now aslater."The second week, Lorry came home full of news. “Charles,” he shoutedas he came up the hill. I was waiting on the front steps.
“Charles,” Lorry shouted all the way up the hill, “Charles was badagain."“Come right in.” I said as soon as he came close enough, "lunch isawaiting.""Hello, Papa, you and Mom" he said to his father as he came throughthe door ' You know what Charles did. Charles shouted so loudly inschool that they sent a boy from another class to tell the teacher tomake Charles keep quiet. And so Charles had to stay after school. Allthe children stayed to watch him.
" What did he do then?” I asked.
“He just sat there.” Lorry said, climbing into his chair at thetable.
“What does Charles look like?” My husband asked Lorry, “What is hisother name?”
“He is bigger than me.” Lorry said, “and he does not have anyrubber shoes to wear when it rains and he does not wear a jacket.”
Monday night was the first parent-teacher's meeting. I wanted to go. Iwanted very much to meet Charles' mother, but I had to stay homebecause the baby was sick.
On Tuesday, Lorry said suddenly ,“Our teacher had a friend come tosee her in school today."“Charles' mother?” my husband and I asked at the same time.
“No,” he said. “ It was a man who made us do exercises. We had totouch our toes like this.” Lorry showed us how.
“Charles did not do the exercises.""Didn’t Charles want to do the exercises?” I said.
“ No. “Lorry said, “Charles was so bad to the teacher’s friendthat he would not let Charles do the exercises.”
“Bad again.” I said.
“He kicked the teacher’s friend,” Lorry said, “the teacher’sfriend told Charles to touch his toes like I just did and Charleskicked him.”
“What are they going to do about Charles, do you suppose?” Lorry'sfather asked him.
Lorry could not say. “Do we mud at school, I guess.” he answered.
Nothing special happened on Wednesday and Thursday. Charles shoutedduring story hour and he hit a boy in the stomach and made him cry. OnFriday, Charles stayed after school again, so did all the otherchildren.
With the third week of school, the word Charles had become part of ourfamily. The baby was being a Charles when he filled his wagon full ofmud and pulled it through the house. Even my husband, when heaccidentally pushed an ashtray off the table said "er, looks likeCharles."During the third and fourth weeks, it looked as if Charles hadreformed. Lorry reported unhappily that Charles was so good today thatthe teacher gave him an apple.
“What?" I said and my husband added carefully, “you mean Charles?”
“Charles” Lorry said. He passed out the pens to the other children,then he collected the books. The teacher said he was her helper."“What happened?” I said, “I could not believe it.”
“He was her helper. That’s all.” Lorry said.
“Can this be true about Charles?” I asked my husband that night.
“Can something like this happen?”
“Wait and see,” my husband said, "When you have a Charles to dealwith this may mean he is only plotting.”
He seemed to be wrong. For all a week, Charles was the teacher’shelper. Each day, he passed things out and he picked things up. No onehad to stay after school.
“The parent-teacher's meeting is being held again next week.” I toldmy husband one evening. “I am going to find Charles' mother there.
Ask her what happened to Charles. I would like to know. I would liketo know myself."On Friday of that week. Things were back to normal.
“You know what Charles did today? " Lorry said in a voice full ofexcitement and wonder. "He told a little girl to say a bad word andshe said it. And the teacher washed out her mouth with soap." Charleslaughed.
“What word?” his father asked unwisely.
Lorry said "I'll have to whisper it to you. It’s very bad.”
He got down off his chair and went around to his father. His fatherbent his head down and Lorry whispered joyfully.
His father's eyes widened, "Did Charles tell the little girl to saythat?”
“She said it 2 times.” Lorry said. “Charles told her to say it, 2times.”
Monday morning, Charles said the bad word 3 or 4 times. He got hismouth washed out with soap each time. That evening, my husband came tothe door with me as I started out for the parent-teacher's meeting.
“Invite Charles' mother over for a cup of tea after the meeting.” hesaid. “I want to get a look at her.”
“If only she is there.” I said with a prayer.
“She'll be there.” my husband said. “I do not see how they get holdof a parent-teacher's meeting without her."At the meeting, I sat looking at all the women's faces. I tried todiscover which one hid the secret of Charles. None of them seemedtired enough to be Charles' mother. No one stood up made excuses forthe way her son had been acting. No one talked about Charles. Afterthe meeting, I found Lorry's teacher.
“I have wanted to meet you. “I said. “I am Lorry's mother.”
“ Oh! we are, we are so interested in Lorry.” she said, “We had alittle trouble with him the first week or so, but now he is a finelittle helper. Most of the time anyway."“Lorry usually learns to obey and to cooperate very quickly. “I said“I supposed this time it was Charles' influence.”
“Charles?,” the teacher asked.
“Yes,” I said laughing. “You must have your hands full in thatclass with Charles.”
“Charles," she said, “We do not have any Charles in the class." |