A Lesson Before Dying by Ernest J. Gaines Page B

Joseph visited the colored schools once a year, the white schools probably twice—once each semester. There were a dozen schools in the parish to visit, if that many.
    â€œWe’re honored that you took this time for us, sir.”
    He grunted and looked around the yard. There was a good breeze coming in from the direction of the cane fields, and it wavered the flag on the pole in the yard.
    â€œPlace looks about the same,” Dr. Joseph said.
    â€œThings change very slowly around here, Dr. Joseph,” I said.
    â€œHummmm,” he said.
    I motioned for him to precede me into the church. He needed all his strength to go up the three wooden steps, and as he entered the doorway, I heard Irene Cole, the sixth-grade student in charge, call out to the class: “Rise. Shoulders back.”
    I followed Dr. Joseph down the aisle, and on either side of us, the students from primer through sixth grade stood as still and as straight as soldiers for inspection.
    I nodded toward my desk for Dr. Joseph to take my chair. He grunted, which meant thanks, and pulled the chair farther from the desk before he sat down. He needed the extra distance for comfort.
    Irene was watching me all the time, and when I nodded to her, she called out to the classes: “Seats.” And the whole school sat as one. We had been rehearsing this, morning and afternoon, for the past three days.
    â€œStudents, I’m sure you all know Dr. Joseph Morgan,” I told them. “Dr. Joseph is our superintendent of schools here in St. Raphael Parish. He has taken time out of a very busy schedule to visit us for a few minutes. Please respond loudly: ‘Thank you, Dr. Joseph.’” Which they did, loudly.
    Dr. Joseph acknowledged their greeting: “Hummmm.”
    â€œDr. Joseph, we’re at your service,” I said, and sat down on one of the benches against the wall.
    Dr. Joseph leaned back in the chair, and still his large stomach nearly touched the edge of the table. He looked over the classes from one side of the aisle to the other, as though he was trying to catch someone doing something improper.
    â€œPrimer, on your feet,” he said.
    They stood up, seven or eight of them. Dr. Joseph looked them over for a moment, then he told the little girl at the end to come forward. She took a deep breath and looked at the girl standing beside her before coming up to the desk. She was afraid, but she came up quickly and stood before the table with her little arms tight to her sides. She would not look up.
    â€œNothing to be afraid of, child,” Dr. Joseph said to her. “What is your name?”
    â€œGloria Hebert,” she said.
    â€œI can’t hear you if you keep your head down,” Dr. Joseph told her.
    She looked up, timidly. “Gloria Hebert.”
    â€œThat’s a pretty name,” Dr. Joseph said. “Hold out your hands.”
    She must have thought she had said or done something wrong, because as she held her hands out across the table, palms up, I could see them trembling.
    â€œTurn them over,” Dr. Joseph told her.
    She did.
    â€œUh-huh,” he said. “Relax.”
    She did not know what he wanted her to do.
    â€œLower your arms, child,” Dr. Joseph said.
    She brought her arms back to her sides and lowered her eyes as well.
    â€œDid you say your Bible verse this morning, Gloria?”
    â€œYes, sir, Dr. Joseph.”
    â€œWell, what did you say?” he asked her.
    â€œI said, ‘Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want,’ Dr. Joseph.”
    â€œHummm,” Dr. Joseph said. “Seems I’ve heard that one before. But you’re a bright little girl. You tell your folks Dr. Joseph said they ought to be proud of you. Go back to your seat.”
    â€œThank you, Dr. Joseph,” she said, bowing and turning away quickly. She smiled as she faced forward again. But no one else was smiling.
    â€œPrimers, take your seats,” Dr. Joseph said.