At last Susie saw the entrance to the school and made her way up the steps, you see Susie taught English at St. James Primary School, and today her daughter was coming to school with her. Frantic early morning telephone calls to friends whom owed favours were fruitless, “typical of the nursery to be closed on the day we have that important seminar”, muttered Susie while wrestling with the staff room door. Susie, or Mrs Bell to the inky fingered ten year olds who graced her classroom daily, shuffled her papers. “Aah Robert Frost. Biography. Example poems and a mounted copy of ‘Mending Wall’. Perfect. And all in time for first lesson.” Mrs Bell exhaled triumphantly and then glanced down at Felicity, who, was at present examining a stapler with great fascination. “Put that down sweetheart. Mummy has to teach a lesson now, hold my hand and we can find you something to play with in the classroom.”
Mrs Bell strode towards the English block the quickest way possible (with Felicity scooped up in her arms) and arrived just before the first students. “Right children. Today we are going to have a seminar on Mr Robert Frost who is a famous poet.”
“Is he dead miss?” cried a baseball cap from the back row.
“Yes, Mr Frost passed away a couple of years ago Robbie. Now take that cap off.”
“As you may of noticed we have a small addition to the class today, my daughter Felicity is here as her nursery is closed. However I’m sure that she will be very quiet so we can learn all about the wonderful Mr Frost and what he has to tell us in his poems.” Mrs Bell turned and fished some crayons out of a brightly coloured pot on the side “There you go Felicity, draw some pretty pictures while mummy talks to the children, sit quietly like a good girl.”
Mrs Bell turned to the class and distributed copies of the famous Robert Frost poems, ‘Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening’ and ‘Mending Wall’. Mrs Bell spoke about Mr Frost and his works while Felicity, with intense concentration, began to draw. Felicity’s small fingers began to draw a house “Can we have a door” she wondered then she looked up and was puzzled to hear mummy talking about Mr Frost’s wall. “Well, Mr Frost’s wall can be in my house” she decided.
Felicity curled up under the table and yawned. She popped her marigold head out and said “Mummy, I don’t understand the story Mr Frost is telling.” Mrs Bell sighed and allowed felicity to clamber up onto her lap and she gave her a cuddle. Felicity slid her small, chubby thumb into her mouth and began to suck. The little girl reached out her hand and gently stroked the front of the book. “Look, here’s a short little poem about snow, you like snow don’t you? Its about a secret world, I’ll read the poem to you”. Mrs bell went on to describe to her daughter about Mr Frost’s secret world of woods, snow and how he had miles to go. Felicity stood on her chair to watch the rain slowly trickle down the window pane, “Never have children” her mother rolls her eyes and smiles in a endearing manner at her students.
Mrs Bell carried on with her seminar and Mr Frost carried on with his secret world of snow, promises and miles to go. While Felicity sat, content with her drawing and watching the rain slowly trickle down the window pan.
