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Show 75 "Very good. Now I will pass paper and pencils. You will write your name in large letters on the paper, and place it on your desk turned toward me so that I can see who you are- Young lady, will you kindly pass these pencils? You are...?" "Tilly Horner." "Thank you, Tilly. And young man, would you pass the papers? Your name is . . .?" "Karl Kerner." He leaped to his feet, grabbing for the papers so quickly that the edge of one tore. "I'm sorry, Miss...." "Never mind, it's only paper. Pass them, please. Since I want us to become acquainted, I'll begin by telling you something about myself. I was born in Russia, but came with my parents to America when I was four years old. My father is the cantor of the Russian Orthodox Church here in Canaan. Last June I received a degree in English literature from the University of Pittsburgh. I am twenty-four years old." This time the class was too astonished to even gasp. Twenty-seven wide-eyed stares riveted Miss Petrov. Never in their nine previous years of school had the pupils heard a teacher discuss anything as personal as her age! "Now tell me about yourselves," she said. "First, how many of you have reached your sixteenth birthdays?" The three girls in long skirts raised their hands. "None of you gentlemen?" Miss Petrov asked. They shook their heads. The boys from their last-year's class who'd turned sixteen had already gone to work in the mill. Some had |