Holding Wonder

0o Ree was reading Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea and I was thanking heaven that there was a glossary of sea life terms in the back of the book. I was supporting my weary head as usual and I let the sound of her voice flow over me like a shadowy river and must have dozed because my cheek slipped from my hand and I caught myself just in time to keep my head from thumping on the desk.
And there was Loo Ree, standing by me, holding the place with her finger closed inside her book. I must have a beautiful imagination because she was-I have no words for her beauty. Even if I tried, I could only compare her to what I have experienced-and she was way outside any of my experiences, but I can remember her eyes-
Loo Ree smiled. "I have learned to read." I gaped at her, still sluggish with the cumulative weariness that teachers everywhere will understand.
Loo Ree spoke again. "I've finished, teacher. I've learned what I had to learn." I should have skipped on the high hills and leaped from leaf blade to leaf blade with delight and relief but instead, my heart lurched and slowed with dismay.
"You're finished? How come? I mean, how do you know?"
"I just know." Loo Ree put the book down gently, sliding her finger out reluctantly, it seemed to me. "It would be useless to try to thank you for the help you have given me. There's no way to repay you and you will never know how far your influence will be felt."
I smiled ruefully. "That's nothing new to a teacher. Especially a first grade teacher. We're used to it."
"Then it's goodbye." Loo Ree began to fade and pale away.
"Wait!" I stood up, holding tight to my desk. My weariness set tears in my eyes and thickened my voice. "All my life I'll think I was crazy these past few months. I'll wonder and wonder what you are and why you are, if you don't it seems to me the least you can do is tell me a little bit. Tell me something so I'll be able to justly to myself all this time I've spent on you and the shameful way I have neglected my children. You can't just say goodbye and let it go at that" I was sobbing, tears trailing down my face and smearing the bottoms of my glasses.
Loo Ree hesitated and then flooded back brighter.
"It's so hard to explain-"
"Oh, foof!" I cried defiantly, taking off my glasses and, smearing the tears
across both lenses with a tattered Kleenex. "So I'm a dope, a moron! If I can explain protective coloration to my six-year-olds and the interdependence of man and animals, you can tell me something of what the score is!" I scrubbed the back of my hand across my blurry eyes. "If you have to, start out `Once upon a time."' I sat down-hard.
Loo Ree smiled and sat down, too. "Don't cry, teacher. Teachers aren't supposed to have tears."
"I know it," I sniffed. "A little less than human-that's us.
"A little more than human, sometimes." Loo Ree corrected gently. "Well then, you must understand that I'll have to simplify. You will have to dress the bare bones of the explanation according to your capabilities.
"Once upon a time there was a classroom. Oh, cosmic in size, but so like yours that you would smile in recognition if you could see it all. And somewhere in the classroom something was wrong. Not the whispering and murmuring-that's usual. Not the pinching and poking and tattling that goes on until you get so you don't even hear it." I nodded. How well I knew.
"It wasn't even the sudden blow across the aisle or the unexpected wrestling match in the back of the room. That happens often, too. But something else was wrong. It was an undercurrent, a stealthy, sly sort of thing that has to be caught early or it disrupts the whole classroom and tarnishes the children with a darkness that will never quite rub off.
"The teacher could feel it-as all good teachers can-and she spoke to the principal. He, being a good principal, immediately saw the urgency of the matter and also saw that it was beyond him, so he called in an Expert." "You?" I asked, feeling quite bright because I had followed the analogy so far.
Loo Ree smiled. "Well, I'm part of the Expert." She sobered. "When the Expert received the call, he was so alarmed by the very nature of the difficulty that he rushed in with a group of investigators to find where the trouble lay." Loo Ree paused. "Here I'll have to stretch my analogy a little.
"It so happened that the investigators were from another country. They didn't know the language of the school or the social system that set up the school-only insofar as its resultant structure was concerned. And there was no time for briefing the investigators or teaching them the basics of the classroom. Time was too short because if this influence could not be changed, the entire classroom would have to be expelled-for the good of the whole school. So it had to be on-the-job training. So-" Loo Ree turned out her hands and shrugged.
"Gee!" I let out my breath with the word and surreptitiously wiped my wet palms against my skirt. "Then you're one of them, finding out about our world."
"Yes," Loo Ree replied. "And we believe now that the trouble is that the balance between two opposing influences has been upset and, unless we can restore the balance-catastrophe."
"The Atom Bomb!" I breathed. "The principal must have found radioactivity in our atmosphere-" I gleaned wildly from my science fiction.
"Atom bomb?" Loo Ree looked puzzled. "No. Oh, no, not ,the atom bomb. It is much more important than that. Your world really ought to get over being so
scared of loud noises and sudden death. If you would all set your minds to some of the more important things in your life, you wouldn't have such loud noises and so many sudden deaths to fear."
"But the hydrogen bomb-"
"At the risk of being trite," smiled Loo Ree, "there are fates worse than death. It's not so important how you die or how many die with you. Our group is much more concerned with how you live and how many live as you do. You should be more concerned with living. I think you are, individually, because I have seen you, in your classroom, distressed by a symptom of this unbalance. Or rather, symptoms of symptoms of the unbalance.
"Anyway, in the course of my assignment, I followed Marsha to you. Of course the mere mechanical learning to read was no problem, but I needed to learn all the extra, unwritten things in the use of a language that give it its meat and motive power in society.
"Besides that, you know that school is usually the first experience of a child outside the home environment. His first school years are a large factor in determining his adjustment to society. So I have been observing, first hand, the classroom procedure, the methods-"
"You've been observing!" I gasped. "Oh lordy, why didn't you warn me?"
"The results would have been invalid if I had," smiled Loo Ree. "But the times I've hollered at them-that I've lost my temper-that I've spanked-that I've fallen so short-"
"Yes, and the times you've comforted and wiped noses and answered questions and tied hair ribbons and fed the hungry wonder in their eyes.
"However, I am ready to submit my data now. We might be able to start the turning of the balance because of what I have learned from you. You'd better pray, as I do, that we can get started before the unbalance becomes irreversible. If that happens-" Loo Ree shivered and stood up. "So there it is, teacher and I must go now."
"But wait. What shall I do about Marsha? You know what has been happening to her. What can I do to help her? I know that she's awfully small compared to a world or a cosmos, but she is lost and unhappy-"
"A child is a cosmos and a world," said Loo Ree. "But you have handled such problems before and you don't really need my help. The trouble would have arisen even if I hadn't come. She just happened to choose me to express her difficulty. You can handle it all right.