RUTH'S STORY
Allen Duxbury
CHAPTER ONE:
BOARDING SCHOOL
1883, Grier School, Tyrone, PA
"Mademoiselle Ruth, il serait sage si vous fermeriez vers le haut." Her French teacher, Mr. Girard told her sharply. You see, Ruth Dewitt, at thirteen, was far more than any of her teachers could handle. In her mind, she thought that they all wasted her time. At home however, her parents kept her under strict control. Ruth had always thought that they never loved her, and that it killed them every time she came home for the holidays or summer. For the most part, Ruth was a typical preteen child, although her leash was held tighter. Whenever her parents visited her, it was as if a switch went off; she behaved like a little girl should, even though she wasn't very little anymore.
Ruth was the oldest child in her family. Born on March 16th, 1870. Her father, Jonathan Dewitt, spoiled her, and loved her in more ways than one. Her mother, Edith was prim and proper, and never hesitated to correct Ruth for her "indiscretions". Her emerald green eyes pierced with a warmth that was felt by everyone. Even at thirteen, she dressed more like her mother, which included a blouse with a detachable neck, often worn with a brooch. Ruth preferred to wear loose fitting underclothing, even though that garnered a few unfriendly stares from the other girls. Her mother tried to fit her into one, but Jonathan told Edith to lay off.
Her room mates, Victoria Morrow and Emily Hanson were very good friends with Ruth. They acted like typical thirteen year olds, and often their conversations erupted into fits of giggles. Despite having good friends and good academic standings, she was the bane of her teachers. As with Mr. Girard, Mrs. Henshaw was quick to get the cane and strike Ruth across the back when she acted up. Often, she was embarrassed and would not continue to focus for the rest of the lecture. Often times, she wondered what her sisters Elizabeth, Jessie, and Susan were up to. She even missed her brother; Carl. Many times, she wished she could be back at her house in western Philadelphia, playing with her siblings; for Ruth was blessed with so many.
"Mademoiselle Ruth,exposeriez-vous svp vos phrases ? La classe attend." Mr. Girard would call to her when he saw Ruth daydreaming. She truly knew that she would rather be in a different place. One day, Mr. Girard had enough. " Mademoiselle Ruth,J'ai eu assez de ceci ! vous allez voir la directrice immédiatement, elle va à la canne vous t'enseigner une leçon." Which meant that she was going to be caned more harshly than ever before. He walked her down to the headmistresses office. "Mrs. Crowe, Mademoiselle Dewitt needs to be taught a lesson! All she does is daydream and never pays attention to my lectures! Teach her a lesson!" Mrs. Crowe, looked at Ruth, and told her to start unbuttoning her pinafore. Ruth braced herself.
The first blow took her breath away. It truly hurt. " After I'm done with you, you will NOT daydream without being reminded of the pain that awaits you. Do I make myself clear?" Ruth began to feel tears of pain forming in her eyes. "Yes ma'am." By the time she felt the twelfth and thirteenth blows, she was holding back the tears. Her back was covered in welts, and they felt hot. "You think you have a cause? Do you think you can make a fool out of Mr. Girard? Do you?" Ruth looked away from Mrs. Crowe. "You may go since school is over. Dinner will be in an hour! You had better not miss it." She handed Ruth her pinafore, and she had put it on again.
Supper that afternoon was of broth and bread. Neither of which made Ruth terribly full. Her welts still felt hot, and her underclothing stuck to several, which meant only one thing: the blows were powerful enough to cut her back. Once back in her room, Victoria ordered Ruth to take off her dress, so that she could look to see how bad the cuts were. Much to her relief, only one of her wounds was marginally deep, the rest were surface wounds, which had begun the healing process. "Did Mrs. Crowe yell at you?" Emily had asked. "Yes Emily, she did--" At this point, she began to cry, softly at first, but then the floodgates opened, releasing a massive flood if tears. Ruth instantly became embarrassed in the company of her friends.
The next morning, Ruth was happy that it was a Saturday, and that she didn't have to see her French teacher; Mr. Girard. Breakfast consisted of oatmeal, a far cry from what she had eaten at home. "We always have a big breakfast Saturday morning, I guess I'll never get to eat it again, I'll just have this disgusting oatmeal." Ruth sighed. Hannah Kempt, one of Ruth's friends looked over to her and said; "Cheer up Ruth, you'll be seeing your family in a couple of weeks, I'm sure they'll be happy to have you home." Ruth then feigned a smile, and went back to eating her oatmeal. Life at school was going to be a long road for Ruth, and she didn't want to go down that road.