to work. We’ll be going home soon. Your schoolwork is important. One of your late beloved father’s dreams was that you boys would be educated, no matter what the cost.”
“Mother,” interrupted Lott, “Professor Johnson wants to talk to you.”
“What about, Lott? It’s hard for me to get to the school and work at the same time.”
Once again Mary stopped what she was doing. “It’s Jeremiah, isn’t it? What trouble is he in now?”
Suddenly their mother’s face turned red in anger, “Jeremiah, who have you been fighting with now? Has it been those McCarley boys again?”
Jeremiah hung his head and in a whisper said, “No Ma’am, I haven’t fought in a long time, Mamma. I don’t know what Mister Johnson wants.”
Mary took great pride in the fact that her boys were able to attend school. Very few boys in the backwoods area could read and write and most of the boys in Savannah were unschooled. With the help of her Presbyterian minister, she arranged for Lott and Jeremiah to attend their church school for boys.
“I’ll tell you one thing, Mister Jeremiah Wilson. We will get to the bottom of this by tomorrow afternoon, and you had better not be in serious trouble.
The following afternoon as soon as Mary finished her work at the factory, she hurriedly made her way to Saint Andrews School for Boys and Mister Johnson’s office. A secretary opened the door and directed her to a seat next to a large desk positioned in front of the most massive windows Mary had ever seen.
“Mister Johnson will see you soon. He is up the hall taking care of a problem. Please, make yourself comfortable.”
It wasn’t long until Mister Johnson, a tall thin man in his early thirties, came storming down the hall and entered the room unaware of Mary’s presence.
“This old heating system and these rowdy youngsters are going to get the best of me,” he mumbled, as he walked past the desk and peered through the window that overlooked the campus below. “Why do I stay in this profession?” he sighed.
Mary cleared her throat.
Mister Johnson quickly turned in surprise to see who had witnessed his moment of aggravation. “Oh, please excuse me. This has been a most difficult day. You must be Mrs. Wilson.”
“Yes sir, I’m Lott and Jeremiah’s mother, and I’m here to talk to you about Jeremiah.”
“Lott and Jeremiah,” He seemed unable to remember the exact intent of his appointment. “Oh yes, I know now. It’s Jeremiah, not Lott, that I’m having some trouble with. Actually, I’m having a lot of trouble with that young man.”
“What kind of trouble, Mister Johnson?” questioned Mary, as she quietly pulled her chair closer to his desk.
“Mrs. Wilson, you have two very different sons. Lott loves to study and is always reading and completing everything assigned to him and he is especially sharp in mathematics. But Jeremiah is quite a different story.”
“What do you mean, Jeremiah is a different story?”
“Mrs. Wilson, I’m going to be honest with you. Jeremiah doesn’t seem to like school, and he doesn’t seem able to sit still long enough to perform his school tasks. His mind wanders off to fantasy lands or somewhere, and he simply is not passing his work. In fact, he’s not passing anything.”
Tears began to ease down Mary’s cheeks. “Mister Johnson, I can help Jeremiah do better. He’s just a restless lad.”
“Mrs. Wilson, I told you I was going to be honest with you and I must. The truth has got to be told. Jeremiah is basically a good, friendly child, but he has a quick and violent temper that at times is uncontrollable.”
“Mister Johnson, I know he has a temper, but...”
“Mrs. Wilson, please let me finish. Jeremiah is quite a bit larger than the other boys his age, and the older boys are endlessly encouraging him to fight with someone. If he’s not in a fisticuffs with the older boys, then he’s defending some other younger boy who’s being aggravated.”
“Is it wrong for my son to defend himself?” questioned Mary in an attempt to justify Jeremiah’s actions.
“It is when he fights almost daily, Mrs. Wilson. He must learn self control. He should have come to me when he had problems with the other boys. Then I could have helped him.”
“Mister Johnson, Jeremiah is large for his age and with unruly red hair that stands straight up, those boys call him names and make fun of him.”
With tears now streaming down her cheeks and in a tone of anger Mary once again defended Jeremiah, “Mister Johnson, I’ve told him to take up for himself. I’ve told him to fight and to be proud of his appearance. I’m the one who told him to fight.”
Mister Johnson, feeling the anguish and pain Mary was experiencing, gave her his handkerchief and spoke softly. “Mrs. Wilson, this isn’t pleasant for me either, but there is more.”
“How can there be more, Mister Johnson? What more?” sobbed Mary.
“Mrs. Wilson, this is the part of my job I detest, and there is no easy way to tell you,” he said.
“Go ahead and tell me. What more can there be?”
“The Board of Directors has met and Jeremiah has been expelled -I mean asked to leave the school. They feel that since he is not passing his work and is constantly causing problems, it is to the school’s best interest that he not remain a student here.”
“Do you mean he can never come back? Mister Johnson, he is only in the sixth grade. What is he to do?”
Mary slowly rose, not knowing what else to do. She placed her hands on the edge of the desk as if to hold herself upright and pleaded, “He’s only a boy, Mister Johnson. Why didn’t you call me in earlier? I could have done something. I could have tried.”
“Mrs. Wilson, I am truly sorry our board has taken this action, but they feel they must make room for other students who genuinely want to learn. You probably know I’ve only been serving as headmaster for four months, and I wish I could have helped your son more. I wish I could have known him better.”
Down deep Mary knew that Mister Johnson was right. She could recall how she had tried desperately to get Jeremiah to study over the years, but nothing worked. He loved to run, tussle, and play with the boys on the streets. He cared nothing for books. His education was her dream, not his.
But, Lott was different. Learning seemed to be stimulating and challenging for him. There was always a new book to read and knowledge to be gained.
In Lott’s spare time, he worked for Albert Haskins, who had now returned to Savannah. It was there that he met Cyrus McCorkle, a state surveyor, who was looking for a young man to help him survey property in the surrounding area. McCorkle needed someone good with keeping figures and healthy enough to carry his gear through rough country, when necessary.
McCorkle was a short slim man who walked with a slight limp caused by his being thrown from a horse when a boy. He was intelligent but at the same time fatherly. Lott had grown to respect and admire McCorkle
