My Eyes Are Open
Chapter Three
Miss Honey did not sleep much last night. The inflamed cuts on her backside forced her to sleep on her stomach, and she just could not get comfortable. The bath she soaked in before she laid in bed was nice, though. She could feel the hot water unravel her muscles, leaving her at least more relaxed than earlier. It was difficult to manage with the lash marks on her back, but the girl furiously scrubbed herself of any possible sweat, dirt, and probably outer layers of skin. Jenny just felt like she couldn't get clean after her aunt touched her. The young woman had decided to shower in the morning too, even though she was still clean. She didn't dare use the hot water then, knowing how furious her aunt would be if she didn't have enough for her shower. Besides, the freezing water efficiently awoke and energized the girl after a long night.
Finding a comfortable pair of panties that allowed her to move with the least pain proved to be quite difficult, but Jenny eventually accomplished this and dressed herself in her favorite dress that's pastel yellow and has little flowers on it. She had been running late and, after hurriedly packing her aunt's lunch, had to rush out the door only having time to grab some crackers and a banana from the fruit bowl. Jenny knew she'd regret not packing a lunch, but it wasn't worth still being downstairs when her aunt comes in. And here Jenny is, almost to the end of the school day, exhausted from lack of sleep and hungry from running out on packing a lunch. These feelings, however, are not unfamiliar to the school teacher.
"Miss Honey, are you feeling alright?" Matilda distracts her favorite teacher from her thoughts.
Jenny instantly pulls a smile to her face. This is the second day in a row she's let her guard down around the girl, enough for her to pick up on her weakness. But today is a new day, and she has a responsibility to protect and care for the children in her class. That is what's right now. They are what really matter. "Of course, dear. What do you need?"
"I finished my assignment." Matilda lays the papers on the desk in front of her teacher.
Ever since Miss Trunchbull refused Miss Honey's initial request to move Matilda to the top form with the eleven year olds, the teacher was disappointed for her student.
"There is, in my class that is, a new student named Matilda-" Jenny begins, only to be interrupted.
"Ah yes, Matilda Wormwood. Her mother Colleen enrolled her here. Nice lady. Said the girl was a real wart." The headmistress continues writing in her binder.
"Oh, no, Miss Trunchbull. I don't think Matilda is that type of child at all-" She tries to object.
"What is the school motto, Jen?" Miss Trunchbull demands.
The teacher stands up straight as she recites the school motto that has been drilled into her almost her whole life. "Bambinatum est maggitum."
"Bambinatum est maggitum," Miss Trunchbull repeats then translates, "Children are maggots."
"But Miss Trunchbull, Matilda Wormwood is a very sweet girl, and very bright!"
"Nonsense, haven't I just told you that all children are gangsters?"
"Matilda is different, she knows her times tables!"
"So she's learned a few tricks." The headmistress dismisses.
"But she can read!" The teacher implores.
Miss Trunchbull faces her subordinate, who is forcing herself to remain brave, "So can I."
Miss Honey is put off by this, and it takes her a moment of stuttering to find words again, "I have to tell you, headmistress, that it is my opinion that Matilda would be much happier in a more advanced class, most likely the top form, with the eleven year olds."
"What sort of society would that be? 'With the eleven year olds'. What about rules, Honey?" The headmistress picks up a ruler from her desk and slaps it in her hand.
Jenny flinches so that her arms briefly protects her face, before clenching her fists at her side and conjuring the last of her strength. For Matilda. "I believe... That Matilda Wormwood is... an exception, to the rules." She suggests, but the desperation slips through her voice and is easily detected.
"I knew it!" Her aunt had barked back at her, the instant change of pace disorienting, "You couldn't handle the squib, so you're trying to shove her off to one of the other teachers. This is so typical of you Jen, I knew you couldn't do it."
"No, no, no," The teacher remains steadfast in denial, ignoring the hurtful remarks to be dealt with later, "That's not it at all-"
"It's all about perspiration, Jen." Miss Trunchbull grabs Jenny's thin hand and forces the back-up riding crop in her hand. "You must discipline the maggots, get rid of the stench of rebellion. If you can't handle the little brat, then I'll send the girl to Chokey." Miss Trunchbull puppets her niece's hand to slap the riding crop against the door of the torture chamber, then turns to face her. "Understand?"
Jenny stares at the horrific notion in her hand, before gripping it at her side and looking to her headmistress, "Yes, ma'am."
"This is for your own good, Jen, a lesson you've long needed to not be so pathetic." The large woman pauses to let the insult sink in for maximum effect, before grabbing her niece's shoulders and shoving her towards the door, "Now get out."
Jenny left the office firm in a decision. She throws the riding crop in a trash can.
Jenny shivers at the rest of the memory from the first day of school. Since her attempt to move Matilda to a more appropriate class along with her recent attempt to secure textbooks for the girl had both failed, Miss Honey had decided on another course of action. Miss Honey would be personally responsible for feeding her student the material she needs to grow. No one else would do it, so it must be her; Jenny refuses to see Matilda slip through the cracks and waste away to nothing, become nothing. But the kindergarten teacher knew very little of higher education, having only attended the local two-year technical college for a degree in teaching. Fortunately, Miss Honey was passionate and dedicated to providing for Matilda; and Miss Honey was very, very, clever.
The teacher knew from the beginning that her kindergarten class, however socially stimulating for Matilda, would never come close to satiating her need to learn. Miss Honey figured the only solution would be to give extra assignments to Matilda on different topics that she can complete on her own while the rest of the class learns the lesson the teacher prepared from grade-level curriculum. It's not really fair to single her out and make her learn on her own, but the teacher doesn't think Matilda will mind, especially since it will come with permission for an extra trip to the meager school library every day, after lunch. Miss Honey assigned Matilda with her first supplemental instruction—SI as she calls it in her mind—this morning on the different parts and uses of the brain, due tomorrow afternoon.
Miss Honey doesn't hide the smile that comes with Matilda's unsurprising over-achievement. As flips through the pages, she raises a mischievous eyebrow over the top rim of her glasses at her student. "The assignment was three pages."
"The brain is so fascinating, I thought anything less than seven would be an injustice." Matilda gives a cheeky, equally-mischievous grin back. The brilliant child, as Miss Honey is quickly discovering, also has a sense of humor, and it's as unique as she is.
"Thank you, Matilda, you may return to your seat and read your book—which one are you on now?" The teacher asks. She had brainstormed a list last night, when she couldn't sleep, of books that Matilda would enjoy or find significance in, along with a few of her own favorites sprinkled in.
Matilda's smile is wide and shows her teeth. "The Color Purple by Alice-"
"Alice Walker." Miss Honey finishes. One of her very favorites; such an inspiring novel.
The young girl smiles as she nods and turns towards her seat, and her teacher is pleased to see the girl livelier and happier than in the few weeks she's had her in class so far. This validates Miss Honey; she will help Matilda. She'll do whatever she can. As the teacher looks down at Matilda's first SI, she realizes she doesn't really know what level Matilda is at. Knowing what grade level her learning is on could help Miss Honey figure out what to teach her next. If the five-year-old has the cognitive abilities of a ninth grader—for example-, she can look at the curriculum through the ninth grade, fill in the gaps of material Matilda doesn't know, and be able to teach her according to what other ninth graders are learning. Also included with other things Miss Honey thinks Matilda ought to learn, of course. Knowing what grade Matilda is learning on could also be important for the future. Miss Honey would like to know how long it might be until Matilda can graduate high school and look at higher education. The idea of a five-year-old preparing for college is almost unfathomable. But this is Matilda, and the little girl is a miracle. A placement test is at least a starting point until she can figure out a better way to help the brilliant child.
Matilda had only gotten a few steps away when she hears her teacher call her back to the desk at the front of the room where she sits. "Yes, Miss Honey?" The girl clasps her hands in front of her as she soaks up every second of kindness and interest her teacher shows her. She knows she's certainly not guaranteed it anywhere else.
"Would you like to go to the library with me this afternoon? I think I have an idea of how I can help you."
The words flood the little girl with excitement, because they carry such importance. First of all, she loves the library; it's her favorite place in the whole world, besides her favorite person's classroom. Even the thought of going to her favorite place with her favorite person makes her happy. Secondly, the words mean that Miss Honey wants to help her. She knows that her teacher has already fought some battles for her—yesterday, with the books, for example—and Matilda had been worried after seeing the way Miss Honey was acting when she came back yesterday that her teacher wouldn't like her anymore. Matilda had always been such a burden. Though it certainly surprised her that her teacher seemed to take special interest in her from the beginning, Matilda was astounded to the point of confusion of why the teacher would want to help her even after the negative consequences that became for something that was her fault. Matilda remembers the scene from yesterday morning vividly.
The bell rings when the little girl was standing in front of her teacher's desk, adamantly discussing her theories on her current book, ending the conversation. Miss Honey praises her on her thoughtful insight as she leads her to desk, located right behind the girl's best friend Lavender.
"Good morning, Miss Honey!" Matilda hears Lavender wish as Matilda sits in her seat and begins to unpack the composition notebook and two pencils that her teacher had given her into her desk.
"Good morning, Lavender." Miss Honey says gently, like a ray of sunshine on an otherwise dreary morning, before addressing the rest of the class. "And good morning, class."
"Good morning, Miss Honey." The all smile up at her, which she returns down to them.
"Today is going to be a great day! We're going to start it off by writing in our journals. I would like you to write one, full, sentence about your favorite person and why you love them. It can be your father, your best friend, the librarian; anyone!" The teacher conveys the assignment with the energy and significance that only teachers who are passionately in love with their job can achieve.
Nigel raises his hand, "Can I write about my pet parrot, Fred?"
This elicits chuckles from around the room, Miss Honey included. "I would prefer a person, but Nigel, if your heart is set on writing about Fred the parrot, write away."
Another hand pops up. It's Alice this time. "Miss Honey, can we please draw a picture too?"
"Oh, yes! Please, class, draw a picture of you and your favorite person." Miss Honey is delighted by the idea.
The class begins their assignment. Matilda doesn't need to stop and ponder over who her favorite person—or pet, apparently—is like the other students in her class. In clear and precise handwriting, Matilda scribes:
Miss Honey is my favorite person in the world.
But she can't find the words to describe exactly why yet, so she pulls out her colored pencils from her desk instead, and begins her drawing of herself and Miss Honey sitting under a tree reading a book together. Matilda knows that if she just mulls over the ideas in her head for a little while, the exact words will come to her. And, suddenly, it does. Well, kind of. The word that comes to mind when Matilda thinks of Miss Honey is warm; but it's more than that. She needs to consult an old friend of her's; the thesaurus.
Matilda rises from her seat and crosses the distance between her desk and Miss Honey's, a path she could easily take blindfolded by now. "Miss Honey?" Matilda waits until her teacher pauses reading her book to look up at the girl through round glasses and a slightly agape mouth, "May I borrow the thesaurus?"
"Of course." Miss Honey closes her book, reaches into a drawer in her desk, and lays the old thesaurus in front of her student. She watches Matilda flip through the pages with purpose, "Looking for a specific word?" Miss Honey is always interested in catching a glimpse into Matilda's fascinating frame of thought.
"I can manage." Matilda dismisses, contently skimming the text. She is looking for something close to 'warm' or 'kind', but she can't quite put her finger on it.
"Before you leave, I was going to give these to you after the class warm up," Miss Honey bends behind her desk and returns with several large textbooks, "But since you're already here…"
"Are these for me?" Matilda's eyes light up.
"To borrow, yes. I borrowed them myself, so be extra careful with them. I just thought that you could study these and complete the SI assignments while I teach the rest of the children, so you can be extra productive." Miss Honey notices the incredulity on her student's face—as if this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for her—but is just happy she could do something helpful for the child.
Just as Matilda is reaching for the books, the door flies open. Matilda snatches her hands, empty, back to her sides as Miss Honey immediately stands to her feet. The room falls silent and not even Miss Honey can force words from her mouth. From inside the doorway, the Trunchbull takes note of the large stack of books on the front desk and feigns a lackadaisical survey of the room.
"It seems," The woman strolls towards the center of the room, towards Miss Honey's desk, "That some books have gone missing from my office." Miss Honey puts herself between the headmistress and her student, and—once Matilda is hidden behind her body—gently pushes the girl with a sneaky hand back towards her own desk. Matilda understands the notion and rushes back to her desk as her teacher stiffly stands off with the headmistress at the front of the classroom. The little girl feels like a horrified member of an audience, useless to affect the action in front of them, yet condemned to watch.
"Have you, by chance, seen them, Jen?" The Headmistress taunts. She takes a few more steps towards the teacher and looks like she might simply bulldoze through the smaller woman, until Jenny has the sense to jump out of the way. The Trunchbull was after her books, and now that they're found, they'll be hell to pay. "The titles are; The History of the Revolutionary War for Fifth Form, Life Science for Sixth Form, Sixth Form Algebra One, Eighth Form Geometry." She read down the stack of books sitting on the teacher's desk.
Jenny's eyes flicker to her students then back to Miss Trunchbull's boots. "Well, Honey, don't just stand there like a wet tissue; speak!"
The barked order causes the teacher to jump and gasp, melting the ice in her throat keeping her from responding. "Headmistress, there really is a very good reason—"
"Oh I'm sure I'll hear all about it." The Trunchbull loudly grumbles, disgusted. She leans forward, closing the space between herself and her subordinate, and takes a firm grasp of Jenny's arm. The pain from the sheer strength of the grip shoots all over Miss Honey's arm, and expels a heavy gasp from her mouth.
"Please, headmistress…" Jenny whimpers only loud enough so that her superior can hear her.
"Quiet, Jen." The older woman shoves the younger into the door frame then forcefully holds her against it, Jenny's resistance futile and unnoticed by her huge aunt, and the Trunchbull turns to bellow a final threat at the class, "If I hear one of you maggots breathe, or see one minuscule detail moved when I get back, you'll all regret the miserable day you were brought onto this earth."
Matilda watches, heartbroken, as her teacher's arms fail as she is thrown from the room. The girl can't imagine how she stayed on her feet after such a forceful shove, but concludes that the headmistress kept a hold of her and dragged her along the hallway, towards her office, most likely. The thought of her teacher being maltreated and bullied infuriates the small girl, and suddenly the classroom door slams with such mighty force that the sound echoes throughout the class of stunned six year olds.
The brave little girl has half the mind to charge down the hall and scream at her headmistress for the injustice she practices. Matilda knows that it's her own fault that Miss Honey is in her current situation. If it hadn't been for her, Miss Honey would've never "borrowed" the books, and Miss Trunchbull would've never caught her with the contraband. As unfair and frustrating as the situation is, Matilda stays put. Not because she can't leave, or because she's afraid of the Trunchbull, but because Miss Trunchbull said she's coming back, and it didn't sound like her teacher would be with the woman. So Matilda silently vowed to take over the class while Miss Honey is gone and stop the Trunchbull from hurting anyone else, though Matilda is devastated she couldn't help the first. Matilda finishes her journal entry.
Miss Honey is loving.