It was the one thing that he was able to promise us when he
sent for us; surer, safer than bread or shelter. On our second day I was
thrilled with the realization of what this freedom of education meant. A
little girl from across the alley came and offered to conduct us to
school. My father was out, but we five between us had a few words of
English by this time. We knew the word school. We understood. This
child, who had never seen us till yesterday, who could not pronounce our
names, who was not much better dressed than we, was able to offer us the
freedom of the schools of Boston! No application made, no questions
asked, no examinations, rulings, exclusions; no machinations, no fees.
The doors stood open for every one of us. The smallest child could show
us the way.
This incident impressed me more than anything I had heard in advance of
the freedom of education in America. It was a concrete proof--almost the
thing itself. One had to experience it to understand it.
It was a great disappointment to be told by my father that we were not
to enter upon our school career at once. It was too near the end of the
term, he said, and we were going to move to Crescent Beach in a week or
so. We had to wait until the opening of the schools in September. What a
loss of precious time--from May till September!
Not that the time was really lost. Even the interval on Union Place was
crowded with lessons and experiences. We had to visit the stores and be
dressed from head to foot in American clothing; we had to learn the
mysteries of the iron stove, the washboard, and the speaking-tube; we
had to learn to trade with the fruit peddler through the window, and not
to be afraid of the policeman; and, above all, we had to learn English.
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