He lowered his voice.”The best way to get through to the children is to start with teacher,” he said to Miss Aitcheson. “If they see you’re not afraid, then they won’t be.” She must be near retiring age, I thought. A city women. Never handled a snake in her life. Her face was pale. She just managed to drag the fear from her eyes to some place in their depths, where it lurked like a dark stain. Surely the attendant and the children noticed? “It’s harmless,” the attendant said. He’d been working with snakes for years. Miss Aitcheson, I thought again. A city woman born and bred. All snakes were creatures to kill, to be protected from, alike the rattler, the copperhead, king snake, grass snake-venom and victims. Were there not places in the South where you couldn’t go into the streets for fear of the rattlesnakes? Her eyes faced the lighted exit. I saw her fear. The exit light blinked, hooded. The children, none of whom had ever touched a live snake, were sitting hushed, waiting for the drama to begin; one or two looked afraid as the attendant withdrew a green snake about three feet long from the basket and with a swift movement, before and teacher could protest, draped it around her neck and stepped back, admiring and satisfied. “There,”he said to the class. “You teacher has a snake around her neck and she’s not afraid.”
Miss Aitcheson stood rigid; she seemed to be holding her breath. “Teacher’s not afraid, are you?” the attendant persisted. He leaned forward, pronouncing judgement on her, while she suddenly jerked her head and lifted her hands in panic to get rid of the snake. Then, seeing the children watching her, she whispered. “No, I’m not afraid. Of course not.” She looked around her.
He lowered his voice.”The best way to get through to the children is to start with teacher,” he said to Miss Aitcheson. “If they see you’re not afraid, then they won’t be.” She must be near retiring age, I thought. A city women. Never handled a snake in her life. Her face was pale. She just managed to drag the fear from her eyes to some place in their depths, where it lurked like a dark stain. Surely the attendant and the children noticed? “It’s harmless,” the attendant said. He’d been working with snakes for years. Miss Aitcheson, I thought again. A city woman born and bred. All snakes were creatures to kill, to be protected from, alike the rattler, the copperhead, king snake, grass snake-venom and victims. Were there not places in the South where you couldn’t go into the streets for fear of the rattlesnakes? Her eyes faced the lighted exit. I saw her fear. The exit light blinked, hooded. The children, none of whom had ever touched a live snake, were sitting hushed, waiting for the drama to begin; one or two looked afraid as the attendant withdrew a green snake about three feet long from the basket and with a swift movement, before and teacher could protest, draped it around her neck and stepped back, admiring and satisfied. “There,”he said to the class. “You teacher has a snake around her neck and she’s not afraid.”นางสาว Aitcheson ยืนแข็ง เธอดูเหมือนจะจับลมหายใจของเธอ "ครูของไม่กลัว คุณ" ผู้ดูแลมีอยู่ เขาก็เอนไปข้างหน้า รอการออกเสียงตัดสินในเธอ เธอก็ jerked ศีรษะของเธอ และยกมือเธอเปิดเปิงกำจัดงู เธอเห็นเด็กดูเธอ เกมส์แล้ว "ไม่ ฉันไม่กลัว แน่นอนไม่" เธอมองรอบ ๆ เธอ
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