Journal #1- Chapters 1-3 from the perspective of Miss Caroline.


Moving to Maycomb, Alabama wasn't my intention. I'd been all over the country traveling, up until the Great Depression. I wasn't quit as foolish as everyone else, and I still had a bit of money. But not enough to go back home for a while. I tried to find a job which was much harder than normal, and was finally offered a job here in Maycomb, Alabama as a teacher. Not a place where I ever imagined ending up. But her I am, in this old town. I could have easily said no and found another job, but I decided to come out to Maycomb and persevere my childhood dream of teaching. Besides, I was indeed from the north part of Alabama. I suspected Maycomb to not be much different.
I decided to take quick walk around the neighborhood to familiarize myself. I saw a rather peculiar house, and started to slow down to get a better look once I had reached the other side. The house looked dreary and like it hadn't had feet walk upon it's crooked steps in years. Like new shoes eventually tired, the white color looked quiet the opposite of white, more of a gray. Three children where arguing by the house, and one started approaching the house. He threw open the gate and sprinted up to it, - I could tell he was a eccentric child. As soon as he got to the house he slammed his hand on it and quickly dashed back. From what I had seen, I could understand that this home was a home which was feared, and I could see why. As he reached the other two children they started running with him away from the house. I think I saw a movement in the window, but ever sense I could remember I'd seen silly things. I continued to take my stroll, and by the end there wasn't anything that interested me,except that weary house.
A week later was the first day of school. I had never taught first grade before, and I was sure that they would all be pleasant children, young and full of energy. I was confident to start the day to follow a hopefully good year. I had even put on my lucky crimson fingernail polish, which I assured myself would stay on the rest of the year with constant new coats. I was wearing a red and white striped dress and my red heels, and wearing colors made me even more excited for the new day.
The students were kind as I expected. I introduced myself, and began to read a story. I reached the end of my cat story, and walked to the blackboard and wrote the alphabet.
“Does anyone know what this is?” I asked, expecting confused faces. If anyone knew, they certifiably didn't know what it was for or could recite it. Surprisingly everyone nodded, and I than remembered they had mostly failed the grade. I called on a girl, Jean to ask her a question- but she instead began telling me the alphabet. This irked me, especially her horrible smile she had when she was done. Who had taught her?
“Now Jean, you tell your father to stop teaching you. It's interfering.” I said sharply, and she started to argue. She told me he father hadn't taught her. Her told me her brother said she was born reading.
“Let's not get our imagination carried away.” I said sternly, and told her to have a seat. She mumbled something, and I decided to let it slide. I smiled back to the class, and asked those who had brought lunches to show me. I reached a boy by the name of Walter, who had forgotten his lunch. I walked back to my desk and got him a quarter, but only received confused students and Walter's frozen face. Suddenly, that same silly girl stood up. She ranted on about how I'd learn about the indigenous families eventually, and how the Cunningham's didn't accept what they couldn't repay. I was furious from her pronouncements, she obviously thought she was smarter than I. I marched up to her, hoping I wasn't being an intimidation to any students. In no mood for a compromise, I smacked her hand and the class giggled. I put Jean in the corner and yelled at the class for their bad behavior. As the bell rang I melted into my seat. My confidence was gone.
After lunch, a horrid thing, a creature like thing had popped out of boy's hair. I shrieked and yelped as the boys handled it. He explained to me it was a cootie, and I didn't care what it was. After putting myself back together, the boy told me his name was Burris, and he didn't know how to spell it. I told him to go home and bath himself and return clean tomorrow. He refused, and a student stood up to tell me his families customs. Apparently, his family only goes to school the first day. I was concerned and pressed the case farther, but it somehow resulted into tears. He seemed satisfied by them, and he left.
My students crowded around me and told me he wasn't a good student anyway. I supposed they were right. They were a good bunch of students for the most part, it seemed. The pushed me to read another story, which I willingly did.

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