With a heavy sigh she continued swinging her feet out of sheer boredom.
This was the last place she wanted to be. And, from the looks on everyone
else's faces, she wasn't alone in that sentiment. She sighed again.
The woman next to her clucked her tongue in an attempt to hush her restless daughter. Obligingly, the legs stopped swinging. Instead of at her mother, the girl's scowl was pointed toward her short legs – sitting with her back flush to the bench, her feet didn't touch the floor. She slid forward until they did, glancing around the room for the twelfth time that morning.
I don't have enough of an attention span for this.
As if hearing her thought, the shrill cry of a bagpipe pierced through her skull, putting a stop to any and all unwanted comments of disrespect.
Everyone in the room turned their heads simultaneously to watch the procession walk to the front of the room. Elizabeth McGowan winced as the boy insisted on continuing the wailing of his instrument. Normally she didn't mind its music – but in such close proximity and in such a room it seemed cruel and unusual punishment.
The line of headmaster, boys and banners finally reached the head of the room and the playing ceased.
Oh, thank god.
Mr. Nolan stood at the podium. "Ladies and gentlemen, boys; the light of knowledge."
Another man lit a boy's candle as an organ played.
The girl muttered under her breath. "Wow, this isn't cheesy at all, is it?" Her mother chuckled, but hushed her still the same.
Mr. Nolan continued. "One hundred years ago, in 1859, 41 boys sat in this room and were asked the same question that greets you at the start of each semester. Gentlemen, what are the four pillars?"
She watched as all of the boys in the room quickly stood like zombies and recited, "Tradition, honor, discipline, excellence." Just as quickly, they sat.
Her snicker snort was barely contained. At a glance from her mother, she whispered, "He didn't even think to ask the girls, now, did he?"
The speech continued. "In her first year, Welton Academy graduated five students. Last year we graduated fifty-one. And more than seventy-five percent of those went on to the Ivy League." Applause. Elizabeth noticed her mother did not clap. Mr. Nolan interrupted the noise. "This, this kind of accomplishment is the result of fervent dedication to the principles taught here. This is why you parents have been sending us your sons. This is why we are the best preparatory school in the United States." More cheering from the parents.
Bah, humbug.
"They're sending their daughters now, too, you know," she mumbled. Another snicker from her mother, ever the independent woman. "Jeez, Mum, do you think he's even going to mention that?"
A gloved hand lightly tapped her thigh. "Hush, Lizzy, or you'll miss it when he does."
With another sigh, her attention was drawn to the headmaster.
"As you know, our beloved Mr. Portius of the English department retired last term. You will have the opportunity later to meet his replacement, Mr. John Keating," he said as the new teacher stood. Heads craned around any obstacles to catch a glimpse of the newcomer as Mr. Nolan mentioned the man's scholastic history.
More applause.
"This is getting rather repetitive, don't you think?" The comment received a warning look from her mother. "Hey, you're the one who raised me – my inability to keep comments to myself is entirely your own fault."
This time it was her mother who sighed. "Yes, dear, all my fault."
When the crowd went silent again, Mr. Nolan cleared his throat. "Now, as you are all likely aware, our school board has decided to make this year the beginning of Welton's coeducational program. Beginning with the semester, we have eighteen young ladies joining us in our quest for higher education."
Elizabeth grinned as a few of the hormonal lads cheered louder than they probably should have in front of their parents.
This time is was her mother who made the offside comment. "I'm not going to have to worry about you here, am I?"
The girl laughed. "Don't worry – all the boys I've known go for the leggy blondes," she said as she swung her feet and shook her brown locks.
For the last time that day the headmaster silenced the crowd, just before everyone was dismissed.
Welton Academy, for boys alone no longer.
The woman next to her clucked her tongue in an attempt to hush her restless daughter. Obligingly, the legs stopped swinging. Instead of at her mother, the girl's scowl was pointed toward her short legs – sitting with her back flush to the bench, her feet didn't touch the floor. She slid forward until they did, glancing around the room for the twelfth time that morning.
I don't have enough of an attention span for this.
As if hearing her thought, the shrill cry of a bagpipe pierced through her skull, putting a stop to any and all unwanted comments of disrespect.
Everyone in the room turned their heads simultaneously to watch the procession walk to the front of the room. Elizabeth McGowan winced as the boy insisted on continuing the wailing of his instrument. Normally she didn't mind its music – but in such close proximity and in such a room it seemed cruel and unusual punishment.
The line of headmaster, boys and banners finally reached the head of the room and the playing ceased.
Oh, thank god.
Mr. Nolan stood at the podium. "Ladies and gentlemen, boys; the light of knowledge."
Another man lit a boy's candle as an organ played.
The girl muttered under her breath. "Wow, this isn't cheesy at all, is it?" Her mother chuckled, but hushed her still the same.
Mr. Nolan continued. "One hundred years ago, in 1859, 41 boys sat in this room and were asked the same question that greets you at the start of each semester. Gentlemen, what are the four pillars?"
She watched as all of the boys in the room quickly stood like zombies and recited, "Tradition, honor, discipline, excellence." Just as quickly, they sat.
Her snicker snort was barely contained. At a glance from her mother, she whispered, "He didn't even think to ask the girls, now, did he?"
The speech continued. "In her first year, Welton Academy graduated five students. Last year we graduated fifty-one. And more than seventy-five percent of those went on to the Ivy League." Applause. Elizabeth noticed her mother did not clap. Mr. Nolan interrupted the noise. "This, this kind of accomplishment is the result of fervent dedication to the principles taught here. This is why you parents have been sending us your sons. This is why we are the best preparatory school in the United States." More cheering from the parents.
Bah, humbug.
"They're sending their daughters now, too, you know," she mumbled. Another snicker from her mother, ever the independent woman. "Jeez, Mum, do you think he's even going to mention that?"
A gloved hand lightly tapped her thigh. "Hush, Lizzy, or you'll miss it when he does."
With another sigh, her attention was drawn to the headmaster.
"As you know, our beloved Mr. Portius of the English department retired last term. You will have the opportunity later to meet his replacement, Mr. John Keating," he said as the new teacher stood. Heads craned around any obstacles to catch a glimpse of the newcomer as Mr. Nolan mentioned the man's scholastic history.
More applause.
"This is getting rather repetitive, don't you think?" The comment received a warning look from her mother. "Hey, you're the one who raised me – my inability to keep comments to myself is entirely your own fault."
This time it was her mother who sighed. "Yes, dear, all my fault."
When the crowd went silent again, Mr. Nolan cleared his throat. "Now, as you are all likely aware, our school board has decided to make this year the beginning of Welton's coeducational program. Beginning with the semester, we have eighteen young ladies joining us in our quest for higher education."
Elizabeth grinned as a few of the hormonal lads cheered louder than they probably should have in front of their parents.
This time is was her mother who made the offside comment. "I'm not going to have to worry about you here, am I?"
The girl laughed. "Don't worry – all the boys I've known go for the leggy blondes," she said as she swung her feet and shook her brown locks.
For the last time that day the headmaster silenced the crowd, just before everyone was dismissed.
Welton Academy, for boys alone no longer.