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Excerpted Inspirations #178

  • Writer: Linda Odhner, with photos by Liz Kufs
    Linda Odhner, with photos by Liz Kufs
  • May 12
  • 0 min read

[Anna discovers, much to her surprise, that Mr. Lloyd, a teacher who has spoken to her harshly because she is German (the year is 1940), has typed her exams in large print so she can read them with her limited vision. She decides to go and thank him.] Mr. Lloyd had no students waiting to talk with him. But he did not look up till Anna was right beside his desk. “Yes,” he said, his expression as cold as usual. “I came to thank you,” she said all in a rush, her cheeks scarlet. “For typing out the exams so I can read them. I mean, I was really worried and I didn’t know what to do and Miss Sutcliff told me you were the one ....” The words dried up in her mouth. She stood where she was, as helpless as a fish on a hook, unable to go, unwilling to stay. “I had not intended that you know,” he said, his voice crisp and dry. “You are welcome, Miss Solden. I am glad to have helped.” He did not sound glad and yet, he had suggested it and done all the work of his own free will. Why? How had he guessed ... ? Her eyes dropped to the desk in front of him. His notebook lay open before him. She had never seen inside it before. The notes were typed in primer type. She stared. He coughed, made a quick movement as if to close the book, then left it as it was. His voice lowered slightly, thought it still was not warm. “I share your problem, as you have discovered. I have been interested to see you managing as well as you have. I myself was privately tutored during my high school years. College was much easier because the teaching was done through lectures. Like yourself, Miss Solden, I acquired a better than average memory.” “Oh,” said Anna lamely. “I never thought .... Sir, thank you very much for understanding.” He stood up suddenly, pushing back his chair as he did so. “I admire courage wherever I find it,” he said, still with no hint of a smile. “You should go far, Miss Solden. I believe you have a good mind.” “Thank you,” Anna said again. Then gathering up the courage he had mentioned, she gave him her warmest smile, held out her hand, and said firmly, “Merry Christmas, sir.” He looked at her hand. Then he shook it quickly as though that was an unpleasant duty he had to perform. But she saw, in that instant, that he did not mean it to be that way. He was almost paralyzed with shyness and he did not know how to be friendly. “Merry Christmas,” he said. Jean Little, Listen for the Singing (1977), pp. 159-161

 
 
 

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