Chapter Five – School, Age Seven
I went to school at 8:20 in my best outfit I had, eager and hoping to make a good first impression. A mere half-hour into our class and I knew that was a lost hope.
"Class, repeat after me. The first three letters of the alphabet are A, B, and C. A, B, C." Mme Frietag slowly droned. I left it necessary to inform her of something.
"Please, Madame. I know this already." I begged politely. She stared at me and seemed confused for a while before responding.
"Mr. Lambert, in this school, students are not allowed to speak out of turn. Make no sound unless I bid you." She then continued with her awful lesson. How would I learn anything here? I could already read! But I had another question. How could Louis have endured this class? His love of fun would have been choked off here. But I never heard him say anything about it. I managed to make it to lunchtime without speaking, then bolted to the door, ready to ask Louis for some survival tips, when I Mme Frietag summon me.
"Mr. Lambert, please come here."
I walked over trying to keep up a happy outward look. "Can you read, child?"
"Yes, Madame." I said quietly. "Sorry," I continued shyly, "but did you bid me speak there, or was I supposed to nod?" The boredom had left me with a lot of resentment towards this woman.
"Firstly, you may know how to read, but you didn't learn it the way I teach it. Second, you're a cheeky brat. Now go to lunch. If you step out of line again, the consequences will be dire."
I didn't know what "dire" meant, but didn't wait to ask. I ran out, looking for Louis. Finally, I found him at lunch with several friends of his. Many I knew by name. There was Charles Corfeyrac, Lesgles, and several others. Charles was the only really nice one. The others wouldn't usually talk to me.
"Louis!" I called impatiently.
"Yes? How is your first day?"
"Horrible!" I blurted, and then Charles cut me off.
"Hey, it took me two years of this place to realize that. What makes you say that so early? Aren't you supposed to be a young innocent?" I only realize now how ridiculous the idea of a "wise" ten-year-old is. Then, at that tender age, if a ten-year-old said something, it was gospel. They were a superior race of tall beings that could choose to injure, help, or be indifferent to us inferior seven-year-olds. The "young innocent" comment perfectly embodied this relationship between our ages.
I explained my problem and Louis nodded comprehendingly. At the time, I was certain that anything Louis or one of his friends said was to be the law. I hung on every word Louis said.
"Enjolras, listen carefully," he began prophetically. "I was able to survive Mme Freitag's class by bringing a book and reading it under the desk. She only caught me once the whole year. It wasn't pretty (I was under the impression that he had been through a glamorous but tough battle against Freitag) but it only happened once. Just make sure your attention doesn't wander too far when reading. If you are called on, say, 'oui Madame' and repeat the last sentence she said." Louis finished triumphantly.
I stared at him in awe, and he laughed out loud. "Enjolras, this is simple, and not so awful. Maman knows I did it. She didn't care, so you're okay. Corfeyrac laughed, as well as Lesgles. Charles said, "Louis, why are you telling Enjolras to pretend to zone out? That's not cool!"
"Trust me, Cor. If anyone in the kiddie class can put one over on Freitag, it's my kid brother."
"Agreed." Declared Corfeyrac.
"Well, this is good!" I said, and went to seek kids my age to meet. I saw a quiet child in the corner and went over to introduce myself.
"Hello. My name is Enjolras Lambert. Et vous?" I addressed him formally, not wanting to seem too intrusive.
"I'm Toulouse Combeferre," he replied shyly. I vaguely remembered the kid from the class that morning, and had a feeling that he always kept a low profile. Now, he was reading, as I astutely noticed, and thus deduced the following.
"You can read?" My formality dropped as a deep respect filled my voice in its stead. Toulouse nodded. "Who taught you? My mom taught me to read," I said bluntly, like the seven-year-old that I was.
"My mom's dead. My older sister taught me."
"Oh. Sorry about your mother. My dad died a while back, before I can remember. What do you like to read?" We exchanged book titles, and I told him of my mother's bookstore. I think he came out of his shell a little bit that day, though I didn't know why it had been there in the first place.
Then, as we walked inside, I heard a young kid, my age but seeming a lot younger, quickly mumbling "A, B, C" over and over. He was really nervous and tripped over a rock in his haste to get back in class and prove his knowledge of the first three letters. Henri Toussaud came up behind the poor kid, whose glasses had fallen off, and picked up the glasses with no intent of giving them back. "Hey, four-eyes, will you be needing these? Try not to have a heart attack over the first three letters, trust me, it's the least of your worries," he declared darkly.
Emboldened by some unknown force, I called out, "Shut up, Henri! Maybe some of us want to learn to read, unlike obvious others." He grudgingly handed back the glasses and called mean names as the focus of his bullying nature changed from the terrified "four-eyes" to myself. "Cheeky brat!" was the last insult I made out. He sounded like Mme Freitag saying that.
Well, I felt better about the new "school" thing after Louis helped me, and I'd deflated Henri, so I was comfortable. I helped the shocked, glasses-less child to his feet and introduced myself.
"Enjolras Lambert. Comment t'appelles-tu?" After a moment's hesitation, he spoke.
"Je m'appelle Gerard Feuilly." Then he ran inside. Combeferre and I shook our heads and walked back in class.
After school, as we readied ourselves to leave, Gerard thanked me for fending off Henri. I told him how I once was even more helpless, and Toulouse agreed with Gerard and me that Henri was definitely the worse part of school. From that point on, the three of us were inseparable.
I went to school at 8:20 in my best outfit I had, eager and hoping to make a good first impression. A mere half-hour into our class and I knew that was a lost hope.
"Class, repeat after me. The first three letters of the alphabet are A, B, and C. A, B, C." Mme Frietag slowly droned. I left it necessary to inform her of something.
"Please, Madame. I know this already." I begged politely. She stared at me and seemed confused for a while before responding.
"Mr. Lambert, in this school, students are not allowed to speak out of turn. Make no sound unless I bid you." She then continued with her awful lesson. How would I learn anything here? I could already read! But I had another question. How could Louis have endured this class? His love of fun would have been choked off here. But I never heard him say anything about it. I managed to make it to lunchtime without speaking, then bolted to the door, ready to ask Louis for some survival tips, when I Mme Frietag summon me.
"Mr. Lambert, please come here."
I walked over trying to keep up a happy outward look. "Can you read, child?"
"Yes, Madame." I said quietly. "Sorry," I continued shyly, "but did you bid me speak there, or was I supposed to nod?" The boredom had left me with a lot of resentment towards this woman.
"Firstly, you may know how to read, but you didn't learn it the way I teach it. Second, you're a cheeky brat. Now go to lunch. If you step out of line again, the consequences will be dire."
I didn't know what "dire" meant, but didn't wait to ask. I ran out, looking for Louis. Finally, I found him at lunch with several friends of his. Many I knew by name. There was Charles Corfeyrac, Lesgles, and several others. Charles was the only really nice one. The others wouldn't usually talk to me.
"Louis!" I called impatiently.
"Yes? How is your first day?"
"Horrible!" I blurted, and then Charles cut me off.
"Hey, it took me two years of this place to realize that. What makes you say that so early? Aren't you supposed to be a young innocent?" I only realize now how ridiculous the idea of a "wise" ten-year-old is. Then, at that tender age, if a ten-year-old said something, it was gospel. They were a superior race of tall beings that could choose to injure, help, or be indifferent to us inferior seven-year-olds. The "young innocent" comment perfectly embodied this relationship between our ages.
I explained my problem and Louis nodded comprehendingly. At the time, I was certain that anything Louis or one of his friends said was to be the law. I hung on every word Louis said.
"Enjolras, listen carefully," he began prophetically. "I was able to survive Mme Freitag's class by bringing a book and reading it under the desk. She only caught me once the whole year. It wasn't pretty (I was under the impression that he had been through a glamorous but tough battle against Freitag) but it only happened once. Just make sure your attention doesn't wander too far when reading. If you are called on, say, 'oui Madame' and repeat the last sentence she said." Louis finished triumphantly.
I stared at him in awe, and he laughed out loud. "Enjolras, this is simple, and not so awful. Maman knows I did it. She didn't care, so you're okay. Corfeyrac laughed, as well as Lesgles. Charles said, "Louis, why are you telling Enjolras to pretend to zone out? That's not cool!"
"Trust me, Cor. If anyone in the kiddie class can put one over on Freitag, it's my kid brother."
"Agreed." Declared Corfeyrac.
"Well, this is good!" I said, and went to seek kids my age to meet. I saw a quiet child in the corner and went over to introduce myself.
"Hello. My name is Enjolras Lambert. Et vous?" I addressed him formally, not wanting to seem too intrusive.
"I'm Toulouse Combeferre," he replied shyly. I vaguely remembered the kid from the class that morning, and had a feeling that he always kept a low profile. Now, he was reading, as I astutely noticed, and thus deduced the following.
"You can read?" My formality dropped as a deep respect filled my voice in its stead. Toulouse nodded. "Who taught you? My mom taught me to read," I said bluntly, like the seven-year-old that I was.
"My mom's dead. My older sister taught me."
"Oh. Sorry about your mother. My dad died a while back, before I can remember. What do you like to read?" We exchanged book titles, and I told him of my mother's bookstore. I think he came out of his shell a little bit that day, though I didn't know why it had been there in the first place.
Then, as we walked inside, I heard a young kid, my age but seeming a lot younger, quickly mumbling "A, B, C" over and over. He was really nervous and tripped over a rock in his haste to get back in class and prove his knowledge of the first three letters. Henri Toussaud came up behind the poor kid, whose glasses had fallen off, and picked up the glasses with no intent of giving them back. "Hey, four-eyes, will you be needing these? Try not to have a heart attack over the first three letters, trust me, it's the least of your worries," he declared darkly.
Emboldened by some unknown force, I called out, "Shut up, Henri! Maybe some of us want to learn to read, unlike obvious others." He grudgingly handed back the glasses and called mean names as the focus of his bullying nature changed from the terrified "four-eyes" to myself. "Cheeky brat!" was the last insult I made out. He sounded like Mme Freitag saying that.
Well, I felt better about the new "school" thing after Louis helped me, and I'd deflated Henri, so I was comfortable. I helped the shocked, glasses-less child to his feet and introduced myself.
"Enjolras Lambert. Comment t'appelles-tu?" After a moment's hesitation, he spoke.
"Je m'appelle Gerard Feuilly." Then he ran inside. Combeferre and I shook our heads and walked back in class.
After school, as we readied ourselves to leave, Gerard thanked me for fending off Henri. I told him how I once was even more helpless, and Toulouse agreed with Gerard and me that Henri was definitely the worse part of school. From that point on, the three of us were inseparable.