To sir, With Love
By E.R. Braithwaite
Next morning I had an idea. It was nothing clear cut, merely speculative, but I considered it all the way to school. Then, after assembly, as soon as they were quiet I waded in. This might be a bit rough, but here goes.
“I am your teacher, and I think it right and proper that I should let you know something of my plans for this class.” I tried to pitch my voice into its most informally pleasant register. “We’re going to talk, you and I, but we’ll be reasonable with each other. I world like you to listen to me without interrupting in any way, and when I’m through any one of you may say your piece without interruption from me.” I was making it up as I went along and watching them, at the least sing that it wouldn’t work I’d drop it, fast.
They were interested, in spite of themselves, even the husky blasé Denham was leaning forward on his desk watching me.
“My business here is to teach you, and I shall do my best to make my teaching as interesting as possible. If at any time I say anything which you do not understand or with which you do not agree, I would be pleased if you would let me know. Most of you will be leaving school within six months or so ; that means that in a short while you will be embarked on the very adult business of earning a living. Bearing that in mind, I have decided that from now on you will be treated, not as children, but as young men and women, by me and by each other. When we move out of the state of childhood certain higher standards of conduct are expected of us…”
At this moment the door was flung open and Pamela Dare rushed in, somewhat breathlessly, to take her seat. She was very late.
“For instance,” I continued, “there are really two ways in which a person may enter a room; one is a controlled, dignified manner, the other is as if someone had just planted a heavy foot in your backside. Miss Dare has just shown us the second way; I’m quite sure she will now give us a demonstration of the first.”
To this day I do not know what made me say it, but there it was. I was annoyed with the way in which she had just barged her way in, insolently carelessly late.
All eyes were on her as she had probably planned, but instead of supporting her entrance they were watching her, waiting to see the result of my challenge. She blushed
“Well, Miss Dare?”
Her eyes were black with anger and humiliation, but she stood up and walked out, closing the door quietly behind her; then to my surprise, and I must confess, my relief, she opened it as quietly, and with a grace and dignity that would have befitted a queen, she walked to her seat.
“Thank you. As from today there are certain courtesies which will be observed at all times in this classroom. Myself you will address as ‘Mr. Braithwaite’ or ‘Sir’ The choice is yours; the young ladies will be addressed as ‘Miss’ and the young men will be addressed by their surname.”
I hadn’t planned any of this, but it was unfolding all by itself, and I hoped, fitting into place. There was a general gasp at this, from boys and girls alike.
Potter was the first to protest
“Why should we call ‘em’ ‘miss’ ,we kwon’em.”
“What is your name?”
“Potter.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Potter, Sir.” The “Sir” was somewhat delayed.
“Thank you, Potter. Now, is there any young lady present whom you consider unworthy of your courtesies?”
“Sir?”
“Is there any one of there young ladies who you think does not deserve to be addressed as Miss?”
With one accord the girls turned to look at Potter, as if daring him; he quailed visibly before their converted eyes and; “No,Sir.”
“You should remember, Potter , that in a little while all of you may be expected to express these courtesies as part of become accustomed to giving and receiving them.
I walked around my desk and sat in my chair. For the time being at least they were listening to me; maybe they would not understand every word, but they’d get the general import of my remarks.
To sir, With Love
By E.R. Braithwaite
Next morning I had an idea. It was nothing clear cut, merely speculative, but I considered it all the way to school. Then, after assembly, as soon as they were quiet I waded in. This might be a bit rough, but here goes.
“I am your teacher, and I think it right and proper that I should let you know something of my plans for this class.” I tried to pitch my voice into its most informally pleasant register. “We’re going to talk, you and I, but we’ll be reasonable with each other. I world like you to listen to me without interrupting in any way, and when I’m through any one of you may say your piece without interruption from me.” I was making it up as I went along and watching them, at the least sing that it wouldn’t work I’d drop it, fast.
They were interested, in spite of themselves, even the husky blasé Denham was leaning forward on his desk watching me.
“My business here is to teach you, and I shall do my best to make my teaching as interesting as possible. If at any time I say anything which you do not understand or with which you do not agree, I would be pleased if you would let me know. Most of you will be leaving school within six months or so ; that means that in a short while you will be embarked on the very adult business of earning a living. Bearing that in mind, I have decided that from now on you will be treated, not as children, but as young men and women, by me and by each other. When we move out of the state of childhood certain higher standards of conduct are expected of us…”
At this moment the door was flung open and Pamela Dare rushed in, somewhat breathlessly, to take her seat. She was very late.
“For instance,” I continued, “there are really two ways in which a person may enter a room; one is a controlled, dignified manner, the other is as if someone had just planted a heavy foot in your backside. Miss Dare has just shown us the second way; I’m quite sure she will now give us a demonstration of the first.”
To this day I do not know what made me say it, but there it was. I was annoyed with the way in which she had just barged her way in, insolently carelessly late.
All eyes were on her as she had probably planned, but instead of supporting her entrance they were watching her, waiting to see the result of my challenge. She blushed
“Well, Miss Dare?”
Her eyes were black with anger and humiliation, but she stood up and walked out, closing the door quietly behind her; then to my surprise, and I must confess, my relief, she opened it as quietly, and with a grace and dignity that would have befitted a queen, she walked to her seat.
“Thank you. As from today there are certain courtesies which will be observed at all times in this classroom. Myself you will address as ‘Mr. Braithwaite’ or ‘Sir’ The choice is yours; the young ladies will be addressed as ‘Miss’ and the young men will be addressed by their surname.”
I hadn’t planned any of this, but it was unfolding all by itself, and I hoped, fitting into place. There was a general gasp at this, from boys and girls alike.
Potter was the first to protest
“Why should we call ‘em’ ‘miss’ ,we kwon’em.”
“What is your name?”
“Potter.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Potter, Sir.” The “Sir” was somewhat delayed.
“Thank you, Potter. Now, is there any young lady present whom you consider unworthy of your courtesies?”
“Sir?”
“Is there any one of there young ladies who you think does not deserve to be addressed as Miss?”
With one accord the girls turned to look at Potter, as if daring him; he quailed visibly before their converted eyes and; “No,Sir.”
“You should remember, Potter , that in a little while all of you may be expected to express these courtesies as part of become accustomed to giving and receiving them.
I walked around my desk and sat in my chair. For the time being at least they were listening to me; maybe they would not understand every word, but they’d get the general import of my remarks.
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