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DISORDER IN THE HEAD
Miss Emily opened the door to the first-year classroom at the girls'
boarding school. The quiet murmuring of twenty-six freshmen subsided and
they all stood up as though by command. They were wearing identical
navy-blue dresses that went down to the mid-calf and buttoned up to the
chin, completely plain, without the least embellishment. Even the buttons
were covered with the same blue cloth. Only the white collars of their
blouses interrupted this uniformity, varying slightly in shape. Not a
single girl wore her hair down; they all wore braids.
Miss Emily's brown dress was of the same plain cut as her students'
uniforms. There was a small brooch pinned to its left side that almost
blended into the background. Her dark hair, streaked with grey despite its
lingering thickness, was pulled back in a bun. Her tiny eyes gazed
mouselike through her round wire-framed glasses. The low heels of her
high-topped shoes did not add much to Miss Emily's height. She was still
shorter than most of the sixteen-year-old girls who were now waiting,
motionless, for the signal to sit down.
She went up to the desk and set down a stack of papers and a leather
glasses case. Her eyes passed over her students and she nodded briefly.
The room was filled with the rustling of dresses and scraping of chairs,
and then she too sat down. She set her spine firmly against the back of
the chair, from where it would not move until the end of the class, as
though glued in place. Only her head in lively movement would be at
variance with this stiff body.
First she concentrated on arranging the objects in front of her. In
addition to those she had brought, there was a small vase containing two
purple wildflowers, a wooden pen holder, a long thin pointer, a large
globe, and a glass half filled with water, covered with a linen napkin.
She did not strive for any special pattern. The priority was that
everything be lined up, to offset any impression of randomness. She
abhorred disorder, both external and internal.
"Good morning, young ladies." Her feeble voice matched her stature.
"Good morning, Miss Emily," chimed twenty-six voices all together.
"I hope you slept well. From what you have written I can see that some of
you are not getting the rest you need at night, particularly at your age."
She stopped talking and laid her hands on the pile of papers in front of
her. It was a collection of dreams. Whenever she commenced teaching a new
class, the first thing she did was have the freshmen write down their
dreams of the previous night. This was the best way to get to know them.
Nothing spoke more eloquently about the girls than what they dreamed. This
was where they showed their true nature. In addition, dreams are the first
indication of the disorder that threatens to overwhelm young minds. And it
could only be thwarted if discovered in time, before it seriously
corrupted the personality. After that it was very difficult, perhaps even
impossible, to remove.
Of course, there were always freshmen who would try to deceive her. They
wrote inauthentic accounts of their dreams, resorting to invention for
various reasons. Some simply had not dreamed anything or could not
remember their dreams, but were reluctant to admit this. Others were
ashamed of their dreams. The most dangerous, however, were those who made
them up in order to outsmart her. Those were the girls in need of special
attention. Such duplicity was a clear sign of a wayward disposition. What
she found additionally offensive was the fact that they underestimated
her. As though it were easy to deceive her! With experience measured in
decades, she was able to recognize without fail not only false dreams but
those calculated to poke fun at her.
Among the twenty-six papers that had been given to her at the end of the
last class, she was certain that three belonged to this latter type. They
were all signed, but since she still didn't know the girls, their names
meant nothing to her. All the same, she would soon see which of the young
ladies considered themselves smarter than her. Nothing would teach them a
better lesson than to experience a little public humiliation. They had to
find out immediately that they would reap what they sowed. There could be
no leniency in this regard. This was the only way to put them on the right
path.
She took the first sheet from the pile and turned it over. At the bottom,
next to the girl's signature, Miss Emily had written a great warning sign
in red ink: three horizontal parallel lines cut by a vertical line. She
used many similar symbols, with meanings known only to herself.
Generations of freshmen had done their utmost to break these codes, but
none had succeeded as yet. To make them even harder to decipher, Miss
Emily periodically introduced confusing changes that made sense only to
her: new signs appeared and old ones changed their meaning.
"Will Miss Alexandra please stand up."
At the penultimate desk of the row next to the window a willowy girl with
large eyes and prominent cheekbones stood up. Miss Emily examined her
carefully. Not at all unexpected. These freshmen who get their height
early are the first to have swollen egos. They think they are special
because they are taller than their classmates and nicer-looking. As if
that could make them superior! But she had a remedy for such
over-confidence.
"Ah, that's who you are. Fine." She put Miss Alexandra's paper to one side
and then took another one from the pile. "Now would Miss Theodora please
be so kind as to introduce herself."
A plump girl in the third desk of the middle row slowly stood up. She had
red hair with curls that not even the tight braids could straighten
completely. Her face was sprinkled with freckles. Miss Emily raised the
collar of her dress a bit around her neck. She didn't like freckles at
all. They were a mark. There was always a reason for them, as shown this
very instant. It was, of course, no accident that she had singled out this
girl's dream.
"There you are. Very good." Miss Emily held up a third paper with a
warning sign on it. "The last one to introduce herself is Miss Clara."
A short girl wearing thick glasses stood up in the first row, in the desk
by the door. Her head was bowed and her right hand was clutching the three
middle fingers of her left hand. Strange, thought Miss Emily. Of all the
freshmen this is the last one I would have suspected. She could almost
recognize herself some forty years ago. But experience had taught her how
deceptive appearances can be. Even though Miss Clara seemed the epitome of
modesty, what she had written clearly indicated that that was merely an
outward impression.
"All right. Now would the rest of you girls please take a good look at the
three who are standing."
This caused a stir. The girls who were sitting started to look around in
bewilderment, staring at the three standing girls, who were just as
confused. Several neighboring heads drew together and whispered. Miss
Emily let the uncertainty gain momentum. She had put on this show many
times and knew exactly when to speak again.
"You don't see anything unusual?" she asked at last. All the faces turned
towards her. "I don't blame you. There's nothing that can be seen. One
would say there is nothing special about Alexandra, Theodora and Clara.
But this is not so. There are things that cannot be discerned by the eye
because they are hidden. Terrible things that are not the least fitting in
the honorable individuals that we all hope you will become after you leave
this school. One such thing is the penchant for lying."
Miss Emily paused so that her words would make the proper impression.
"This is a very bad characteristic. It is particularly dangerous when it
appears in younger individuals. A girl who starts to lie early in life
will most certainly not stop there. What inevitably awaits her is a
wayward life of even worse sins. All lies, however, are not the same.
Although no lie can be justified, some can be understood to a certain
extent. Let's take, for example, your compositions on what you dreamed.
Almost half are not true. You thought you could fool me, but that, of
course, is impossible. I am quite capable of telling real dreams from
false ones. I do not hold it very much against most of you, though, this
resort to fabrication. You did not act out of ulterior motives. You found
yourselves in an awkward position and lying seemed the only way out of it.
You will learn in time that sincerity always serves you best in any
difficulty you might encounter."
Miss Emily took the pointer and started to draw it back and forth through
the closed fist of her left hand.
"But the motives of these three young ladies were not in the least naïve.
Their fabrications were fully intentional. They treated me
condescendingly, wanting to show their superiority. Arrogance went along
with the lies, and it is hard to find a worse combination. They were
convinced that I would not see through them, but they have greatly
underestimated me. Now the time has come to face the consequences. It is
always unpleasant, but cannot be escaped. In any case, it is for their own
good. Confession and repentance are the first steps towards redemption and
healing."
The pointer stopped moving. A hush filled the room for several moments.
"So? Let's hear what you have to say."
It was not clear which of the girls was expected to speak first. Miss
Alexandra glanced questioningly at Miss Theodora, who replied with a shrug
of the shoulders. Miss Clara kept her head bowed. Her eyes had become
glassy and wet. The tears had not yet started to flow, but it was certain
that nothing could stop them. The tension in the classroom grew along with
the look of impatience on Miss Emily's face.
"They didn't lie."
The voice was soft and came from somewhere in the back. A multitude of
braids swung when the inquisitive heads quickly turned around to look.
Miss Emily twisted her neck.
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