Sunday, June 15, 1913.
Dear Mary,-
Of course you know that I meant to answer your letter long ago but dear me, these last few weeks have been so busy. When you have talked about having time to yourself etc. and feeling guilty over it, I have felt almost vexed with you. Honestly public school work is never done. But then, Mary, you always were systematic and didn't get all tangled up and hurried so you probably wouldn't if you exchanged places with me. Part of my hurry was due to neglecting to look far enough ahead and to wilfulness. I spent too long on the "House of Seven Gables," because I loved it and the class loved it and I was determined not to leave it until we had discussed it all I wished. I really felt gratified with our study of it because some girls in the class told me they had read it before and did not like it, but liked it now. But as a consequence of lingering in a beloved spot I was obliged to cram hastily into them, "Sir Roger de Coverly," [sic] Gray's "Elegy," and the "Deserted Village." It was really cruel to the class and to tease beloved classics to do it that way. To my mind it is a little cruel to teach Sir Roger to freshmen anyway.
But it's all over now and I am drawing a free breath after working extremely hard during the past week. A thought that I had all the week helped me to get through such difficulties with equanimity and that was that Frederick was coming home for over Sunday. I have not seen him since Easter time. Just think of that, Mary. And oh it seems such a long time. For you know that try as you may you cannot adequately express your best thoughts on paper. And then he has been journeying hither and thither and has had time for only hurried writing. Several times he has planned to come home and couldn't but this time felt sure of it. So you can imagine my disappointment on top of my fatigue Fri. night when I received a telegram saying "Not coming." Such is the life of a government man in either Army or Navy.
Well, I suppose you would like to know what I am going to do next year and I should certainly like to know the same about you. I am going to teach in the Manchester High, French, with $200 more salary, and of course live at home, so I think I shall be happy. In some ways I dread starting in there because of discipline and then because of knowing so many of the parents. They are ready to criticise and if I did not know them I shouldn't care what they said. Then I have had practically no trouble this year in disciplining my girls, but probably shall have when I have boys. But then, I hope to manage somehow. And somehow work doesn't bother me now as it did (except that I get tired). I have something better to think about. I mean the thorns of teaching, not the roses, I have ceased to think of.
There are two plans I have in my head now I want to tell you of. I have told all about them to just one other person and that is Mary Jenness 1908 & then 1909 whom I have found to be an inspiring person. She has been teaching in Concord this year. She has begged me to carry them out. One is this: The Dramatic Club was offered a prize for a play and something suggested to me an idea that I should like to work up. It is this. The
ThtTitle is "Keeping up with Izzie" a la "Keeping up with Lizzie" (Have you read it? If not, do)[.] Well, the idea is to have the college people striving to keep up with Izzie who is very scholarly - the ideal Miss Ellis holds up, only more so. The girls buy their own books and pore over original sources and discuss eagerly in class. Things come to such a pass that the faculty are breaking down in health because of striving to keep ahead of the game. The college bookstore is making a mint of money. The faculty have been reprimanded for disturbing the library. Sewing bees take the form of French & German conversations or heated arguments on political or philosophical subjects. But Izzie, in accord with her parents' wishes, accepts an invitation to a football game from which she returns elated and later her work shows occasional lapses[.] Finally at Commencement her engagement is announced to a sporty youth and the college settles back into its old ways, the girls sell their books to buy new clothes and the faculty breathe a sigh of relief. But I am afraid this will be ruled out (if I can ever write it up which I doubt, because the rules say it must deal with material other than what is used in class shows etc. but it does say you can use college life. What do you think bout it? I wish I could see you to talk things over. The other is this: My cousin is exceedingly interested in Camp Fire Girls and I have become so, too. As I know quite a little about nature and about the method of observation I thought I would try writing a book for Camp Fire girls, confining its observation etc. perhaps to New England. I would write it as the story of one Camp Fire girl and how she broadened her field of interest and improved. It would include descriptions of common flowers, birds, stars, etc with suggestions for successful observation and with poems and legends about them scattered in. This is about as far as my ideas have gone yet. It will be a great deal of work but it seems as if I ought to get quite a little done this summer.Now, do write and tell me how you are etc. Don't you enjoy reading the Mount Holyoke? And the Class Letter! How I have devoured it. I have had a limited amount of time so far but have read a great many. Some of our little friends are working pretty hard. My lives have fallen into pleasant (and on the whole easy) places so far. I feel almost ashamed of the very little I have done, it has come to me unsought. My next place came in the same way.
Today I am spending at a cottage on the Contoocook, a very beautiful river, before I return to Manchester. Write soon and forgive my long silence. You know I love you just the same and think of you ever when my thoughts do not issue in pen and ink. Excuse change in paper.
Yours as ever,
Beatrice.