"
The truth is that Mr. Jeminy was not a very good teacher. Although, as
a young man, he had read, in Latin and Greek, the work of Stoics,
Gnostics, and Fathers of the Church, and although he had opinions about
everything, he was unable to teach his pupils what they wished to
learn, and they, in turn, were unable to understand what he wanted them
to know. But that was not entirely his fault, for they came to school
with such questions as: "How far is a thousand miles?"
"It is the distance between youth and age," said Mr. Jeminy. Then the
children would start to laugh.
"A thousand miles," he would begin. . . .
By the time he had explained it, they were interested in something else.
This summer morning, a dusty fall of sunlight filled the little
schoolroom with dancing golden motes. It seemed to Mr. Jeminy that he
heard the voices of innumerable children whispering together; and it
seemed to him that one voice, sweeter than all the rest, spoke in his
own heart. "Jeminy," it said, "Jeminy, what have you taught my
children?"
Mr.
Pages:
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30