Flummoxed by Field
No sooner had the Boyntons finished preparing the table for their visitor, than they were disturbed by a screeching of brakes. A Chevy Volt had raced up the street, made a quick U-turn, and parked ineptly on the curb in front of the house.
Moments later, the doorbell rang.
"Well, here we go" Connie said.
She opened the door to reveal a short, slender young man in fashionably scruffy clothes.
"Hello, you must be Mr. Field" Connie began courteously. "I'm Constance Boynton, and this is my husband Phillip."
"Pleased to meet you" said Phillip.
"Hmm" leered Field, as he looked dismissively at the couple. "Just as I feared. No need for last names, you two. Much too old school and bourgeois, you understand. Philip and Constance, are you? Surely you do not call each other that?"
Phillip and Connie were both taken aback; Connie recovered first.
"No, but you will." Connie responded acidly. "Your real name must be Frederick. Now that's a name that really rolls off the tongue!"
"We should stick to last names" added Phillip quickly, but in a very baffled tone. "I believe it's more professional that way."
"I am your guest, I suppose" said Field, in a smug monotone.
"Won't you come in?" Connie said in a jaundiced voice.
The Boynton's and their guest went to the dining room table.
"I've made us some chocolate chip cookies and some fresh coffee" offered Connie, attempting a more relaxed tone, although she viewed her guest doubtfully.
"The cookies are very good" tried Mr. Boynton, sitting in the nearest chair. "They're from a recipe of Mrs. Davis'."
"Hmm" said Field, again, as he sat himself at the head of the table and looked skeptically at his plat. "Do you use ethical chocolate and ethical coffee?" he demanded.
"How can chocolate chips and coffee be ethical?" asked Phillip, looking dubiously at the cookies. "They're inanimate."
"I've heard of ethical coffee" Connie observed. "It's coffee . . . and I suppose cocoa beans as well . . . certified harvested by workers treated under fair conditions. It's nice to hear you care so much about others! To answer your question, Mr. Field, unfortunately, no. I'm afraid it's just ordinary coffee and chocolate chips from the supermarket."
"Then I will not have any' said Field. "Of course, you understand. At any rate, I prefer a hazelnut French vanilla latte from the Starbucks near State. At all other times, I try to live by the hundred mile rule."
"The hundred mile rule?" questioned Phillip.
"He doesn't eat anything that's not grown within a hundred miles of home" Connie observed tartly. "If I knew, I would have made oatmeal cookies instead. Or better yet, Pensacola Popovers."
Connie winked at Phillip, who burst out laughing. Mrs. Davis' Pensacola Popover recipe was an unusual lapse on the part of Connie's late landlady; Pensacola Popovers were guaranteed to make man and beast sick or even unconscious.
"Are you sure you won't have anything?" asked Connie.
"Some Sierra Springs water, I would think" said Field. "It's another of my exceptions. Pure water from a progressive company is worth the environmental cost."
"Unfortunately, we only have the local Madison Reservoir variety" Connie joked. "However, I am happy to say it does meets the hundred mile requirement."
"Isn't she a corker?" Phillip told Field, as Connie went to the nearby sink to fill Field's cup.
"Hmm, "corker," must be some sort of antiquated slang" said Field after a moment's pause. "I suppose Madison water will do this once." To the returning Connie, he added "Ms. Boynton. You've taken your husband's name, I hear?"
"Why, yes" said Connie, surprised and somewhat annoyed at the question. "Everybody . . . well, every woman did back in 1956. If you knew how long I worked at winning the title Mrs. Boynton, you wouldn't be so surprised!"
She ended on a note of strained joviality.
Field slowly turned his gaze onto Connie, while his previously vacant expression sank into a deep glower.
"Hmm" he sneered. "It's positively shocking that a professional such as yourself should be such a willing slave to the patriarchy."
"You're out of line, buster!" said Philip, who rose from his chair in a speed remarkable for a man of his years.
As for Connie, she slammed the requested glass of water on the table in front of Field, splashing water into his face.
"Now listen you!" she said furiously. "Since the moment we opened the door you've returned our hospitality with insults and snide remarks! I will have you know that our coffee and cookies may not be ethical, but we are! When I was still Miss Brooks . . . Ms. may be preferred now and may well be better . . . nevertheless, I defy you to tell me what I should call myself . . . I met and fell in love with Mr. Boynton. I wished to marry him and I did. I wished to raise a family and I did. I wished to take his name and I did. Maybe I would not have retired from teaching to the extent I did, but I was and am quite happy with the course my life has taken. My choices were my own and not that of a patriarchy."
"You are disgraceful" spat Field. "I knew that in coming here I would be talking to artifacts from another age. To think such a meek conformist such as yourself would be placed in the position of a role model to Madison's youth. Am I ever happy that the fifties are over!"
"IF you dare lay a hand on me" Field quickly added, for Phillip was drawing back for a punch, "I will have you hauled away by the police! I have influence in this town, backward though Madison may be!"
There was a second of deadly silence.
"I don't care" said Phillip dangerously. "Many years ago, Connie . . . that's Mrs. Boynton to you . . . joshed me about defending her honour. I'm willing to fight you if you don't apologise to the wittiest, kindest, and more beautiful woman I've ever known!"
"Why, thank you Phil!" said Connie appreciatively, momentarily forgetting their unpleasant guest.
"As quaint an idea as it is retrograde" Field said slickly, as he gazed icily at Phillip. "Fisticuffs will only get a brute like you a stiff prison sentence."
"Any jury in their right mind will take Phillip's side should it come to fighting, you cretinous oaf" Connie said passionately. "I'll have you know that I was . . . I am . . . a pretty good teacher, and a very good role model. I dislike bragging, but I taught English to a good many students and taught it well. As for being a good role model, I am happy to say I have led many children though a good deal of problems. I am proud to have taught students that have grown to be newspaper editors, novelists, lawyers, doctors, and professional athletes. They all consider me a friend, and all consider my influence to have been a positive factor in their lives!"
"Hear, hear!" said Phillip.
"Hmm" said Field, still sitting and now brassily drinking his glass of water. "Taught, positive factor? That's not saying much, is it? I'm a positive factor in my girlfriend's life, and it's from me that she currently draws all her knowledge and inspiration."
"If that's the case, she must be an unfortunate girl indeed" noted Connie.
"What, exactly, did you teach?" said Field, pretending to ignore the last remark.
"Why, English, of course" said Connie. "Shakespeare, Dickens, Elliot, Tennyson. Grammar and punctuation. The parts of speech. The parts of a sentence. Essay writing and types of verse. . . ."
"In other words" sneered Field, "garbage."
"Garbage?" objected Phillip. "If that's garbage . . . then what should be taught in English?"
"Nonconformity" said Field, quickly shifting into a self-congratulatory tone. "Defiance against the Madison establishment and its unprogressive views. The social justice this town needs. Protesting our unenlightened bourgeois politicians."
"Why, you are nothing but a conformist yourself!" observed Connie. "Only it's your views that your students must conform to. From what you tell me, you merely stand upon a soapbox and propagandise. You neglect your real job . . . that of teaching the English language and introducing children to the great works of literature."
"As a teacher, you're supposed to teach your students facts, not political opinion" Phillip added. "You're supposed to give them the knowledge and the skills that will allow them to pursue your subject and apply it in their future life and career."
"Whether it is nouns or frogs" added Connie, "teaching children is far too important an undertaking to be taken so cavalierly."
"Typical antiquated thinking" said Field smugly. "Your idea of an English class is to lock your students away, forcing them to study dead irrelevants and grammatical trivia. People like you have made Madison the cultural and political backwater it is today! Thankfully, my tutelage is finally having some results. Just yesterday, I took my classes on a field trip to protest outside our loathsome state senator's constituency office. That revolting reactionary, Walter Denton, is retiring this year and with luck we'll be able to. . . ."
"Walter Denton?" Phillip exclaimed. "Reactionary!"
He burst into laughter.
"The fact that you consider Walter Denton, of all people, to be reactionary shows yourself as the deluded fool you are" Connie noted. "Now, there was an occasion where I taught a civics class, and in an open-ended discussion may have gone overboard in criticizing a corrupt city administration. Even then, however, I would never have prescribed my students' thoughts."
"It is my role to guide my students to enlightenment" said Field testily. "The world is my classroom; I simply lead my students to the right way of thought and insulate them from reactionist viewpoints. That's the reason I have come to your miserable cottage. I knew most of Madison's elderly hold views that are inappropriate for the student environment. The question is how can we prevent certain persons from contaminating the said student environment? Now, banning former students is difficult. It is a reunion after all. However, I can prevent certain geezer teachers from attending."
"You're banning us from the reunion?" Phillip exclaimed.
"By what authority?" asked Connie.
"As the faculty advisor to the Student Committee for Reunion Planning I have that authority" said Field. "Of course I had tried to salvage your feelings."
"Oh?" Connie said sarcastically. "How?"
"Hmm" said Field. "I see my efforts weren't appreciated by the likes of you. I attempted to discourage you and certain other individuals from attending. Short notice reduced the number of old grads who'd wish to attend. "Old" teachers were described as such. I managed to omit certain people . . . even students . . . from the invitation list altogether. I didn't want Walter Denton prattling at the event. However, since you spilled the beans I may need to allow his attendance . . . maybe he'll stay away if he knows he'll be greeted by firm dissent. Even if he's stupid enough to attend, I'll have some choice words for him when Madison High's No. 1 Teacher makes his big speech."
"I doubt Madison's principal will allow your conduct to go unchallenged" said Phillip.
"Mr. Darwell does whatever I tell him to do." said Field triumphantly. "He's been told to comply ever since he tried to prevent my assuming of editorial control over our quaint paper, the Madison Monitor. You see, Mr. Stone, the grandson of the same Mr. Stone who ruled the Board of Education back in your day, is my uncle and lets me do as I please."
"Very bourgeois" Connie observed. "Very monarchial too."
"Whatever" said Field dismissively. "The fact remains you won't be attending."
"What if we tell Mr. Stone everything you told us?" said Phillip. "I don't think he'll approve of your rigging Madison's big high school reunion."
"Hmm" smirked Field. You would try to curry favour with my uncle. Too bad. I admit, he's not as progressive as I would like. Even so, he's not going to believe a pair of senile nonagenarians."
"Phil, don't!" tried Connie, but too late. Field had a black eye, courtesy of Phillip Boynton.
"Well, Field" said Connie sardonically, "What's it like, getting a black eye from an ninety-two year old man!"
"Neanderthals!" screamed Field.
He fled the house, rushed into his Volt, and sped away.
Authors' Notes
Mrs. Davis bakes Pensacola Popovers in the radio episode of the same name. Walter Denton relates that the cookies made him sick as a dog. Mr. Boynton's pet frog McDougall licks one and starts hopping around upon his head. Mr. Conklin has a couple popovers and has such a bad stomachache he believes he is dying. As for Mr. Boynton, he eats a few and initially enjoys them; however, he eventually passes out and ends up in the hospital.
On occasion, Mr. Conklin had feared Miss Brooks marrying and leaving Madison. Mr. Conklin believed good English teachers to be hard to find. Mr. Conklin leapt to the conclusion that Miss Brooks was marrying on at least two occasions. He rushed to stop a wedding in The Wrong Mrs. Boynton (T.V.) and Professorship at State U (Radio equivalent). Similarly, in the episode June Bride, Mr. Conklin believes Miss Brooks is getting married although she is merely a stand-in at a proxy wedding.
In the radio episode Walter v. Stretch Grudge Match, Miss Brooks inquires of Mr. Boynton if he'd defend her honour should she be insulted. Mr. Boynton does not even understand the question.
In the television episode, The Novelist, former student turned novelist Terrence Layton visits Miss Brooks.
For better or worse, Miss Brooks usually becomes involved in her students' problems. For better, in the case of the students; for worse, in terms of her peace of mind. Walter Denton frequently embroiled Miss Brooks in his problems and schemes, i.e. Cure that Habit (radio and television). Nevertheless, Miss Brooks viewed helping children as an integral and rewarding part of her career, as evidence in her conversation with Lawrence Nolan in the movie.
Miss Brooks became entangled in politics twice. In the radio program Student Government Day, she fills for the Civics teacher, gets carried away and condemns the corrupt municipal government under Mayor Rimson. In the movie, Mr. Conklin virtually drafts her into being his campaign manager in the race for the new position of Coordinator of Education.
The first episode of the series is called First Day (radio). Here, Mr. Conklin assumes the principalship from Mr. Darwell. Mr. Darwell is again referenced in Letter from the Education Board (radio) and its television equivalent, Spare that Rod. Interestingly, Miss Brooks is said to have predated Mr. Conklin at Madison in these episodes.
In the latter episode Borrowing Money to Fly (radio) and the movie, Mr. Conklin had already principal long before Miss Brooks had arrived. Should the issue arise, the story will view the latter continuity as fact . . . Mr. Conklin was already at Madison when Miss Brooks arrived to teach in 1948. The Mr. Darwell in this story is, like this story's Mr. Stone, a grandson of the original.
In Our Miss Brooks (radio, television, and movie), the name of the school's paper was the Madison Monitor. Walter Denton was editor, and Miss Brooks faculty advisor.
Phillip Boynton rarely lost his temper, or threatened anyone physically. There are, however, at least two exceptions. In Angela's Wedding (T.V.), he nearly gets into a fight with Madison's gym teacher. In the movie, he threatens Lawrence Nolan after Mrs. Davis suggests Nolan might have dishonourable intentions toward Miss Brooks.
Field is a caricature of the self-righteous, politically activist teachers and professors that appear in media from time to time. It is unlikely that there exists any teacher so hypocritical, arrogant and ignorant in real life; leastways, to Field's extreme. Such a throughly bad teachers as Field is a prime candidate to be brought down by a great teacher like Our Miss Brooks.