The Children's Story by James Clavell Page A

behind Miss Worden and turned back into the room, cradling Sandra in her arms. “Children, children, there’s no need to cry!” she said. “I know. I’ll sing you a song! Listen!”
    And she sat down on the floor as gracefully as an angel, Sandra in her arms, and she began to sing and the children stopped crying because Miss Worden never, never sang to them and certainly never sat on the floor, which is the best place to sit, as everyone in the class knew. They listened spellbound to the happy lilt of the New Teacher’s voice and to the strange words of a strange tongue which soared and dipped like the sea of grass that was the birthplace of the song. It was a child’s song and it soothed them, and after she had sung the first chorus the New Teacher told them the story of the song.
    It was about two children who had lost their way and were all alone in the great grass prairies and were afraid, but they met a fine man riding a fine horse and the man told them that there was never a need to be afraid, for all they had to do was to watch the stars and the stars would tell them where their home was.
    “For once you know the right direction, then there’s never a need to be afraid. Fear is something that comes from inside, from inside your tummies,” the New Teacher said radiantly, “and good strong children like you have to put food in your tummies. Not fear.”
    The children thought about this and it seemed very sensible. The New Teacher sang the song again, and soon all the children were happy and calm once more. Except Johnny. He hated her even though he knew she was right about fear.
    “Now,” said the New Teacher, “what shall we do? I know, we’ll play a game. I’ll try and guess your names!”
    The children, wide-eyed, shifted in their seats. Miss Worden never did this, and often she called a child by another’s name. The New Teacher’ll never know all our names! Never! they thought. So they waited excitedly while the New Teacher turned her attention to Sandra. Oh, yes, somehow she already knew Sandra’s name, but how could she possibly know everyone’s? They waited, glad that they were going to catch out the New Teacher.
    But they were not to catch her out. The New Teacher remembered every name!
    Johnny put up his hand. “How’d you know our names? I mean, well, we haven’t had a roll call or anything, so how’d you know our names?”
    “That’s easy, Johnny,” the New Teacher said. “You all sit in the same places every day. Each desk has one pupil. So I learned your names from a list. I had to work for three whole days to remember your names. A teacher must work very hard to be a good teacher, and so I worked for three days so that I could know each of you the first day. That’s very important, don’t you think, for a teacher to work hard?”
    Johnny frowned and half-nodded and sat down and wondered why he hadn’t figured that out for himself before asking, astonished that she had worked three days just to know everyone the first day. But still he hated her.
    “Johnny. Would you tell me something, please? How do you start school? I mean what do you do to begin with?”
    Johnny stood reluctantly. “We first pledge allegiance and then we sing the song—”
    “Yes, but that’s all after roll call,” Sandra said. “You forgot roll call.”
    “Yes. You forgot roll call, Johnny,” Mary said.
    “First we have roll call,” Johnny said. Then he sat down.
    The New Teacher smiled. “All right. But we really don’t need roll call. I know all your names and I know everyone’s here. It’s very lazy for a teacher not to know who’s here and who isn’t, don’t you think? After all, a teacher should know. So we don’t need roll call while I’m your teacher. So we should pledge, isn’t that next?”
    Obediently all the children got up and put their hands on their hearts and the New Teacher did the same, and they began in unison, “I pledge allegiance to the flag of—”
    “Just a