OCTOBER 4: The Abused Pencil
“A boy named Gerald,” said daddy, “was finding it very hard to do his lessons. School had commenced and yet the days were so lovely it was hard to study.
“He could not draw a map and he was supposed to have one drawnfor the next day. He found it so hard to remember just how the places looked on the map and he was supposed to do it from memory.
“He gave up trying the map after a few moments. Then he sat and chewed the end of his pencil. Perhaps in a moment or two he would think of all the places he was supposed to mark.
“He decided he would do his arithmetic but he could not manage the sums. They were all so extremely hard. Much worse than they had been in the spring, though in reality they were a little easier. The teacher had known the children had had a long summer and it would take them a little time to get back into their work.
“He tried to do the sums but couldn’t. What a pity the book had no answers in the back! And he began to chew the end of his pencil again while he tried to think.
“Before long he felt he could not do his lessons for he was too tired and they were entirely too hard. He was dreadfully afraid he would be put back with the boys a year younger than he was, and yet he couldn’t do such difficult lessons.
“How ashamed he would be to be put back! Oh dear, what could he do? He must simply tell the teacher the lessons were too hard. But then he felt sure she would tell him to go back into a class where they were easier.
“He put his head down on his arms. The soft autumn breeze was blowing. It had been a warm day and two bumble-bees were buzzing and talking very near him. They were having some sort of a talk about the sweetness of the honey in the honeysuckle vine.
“Just then he saw his pencil. The end of it was wrapped up in cotton wool and gauze.
“‘Gracious, pencil, what is the matter?’ asked Gerald.
“‘I shouldn’t think you would ask me what is the matter,’ said the pencil as it squeaked in a sad little voice.
“‘Why not?’ asked Gerald. But the moment he had asked the question he knew the answer.
“The pencil answered him just the same. ‘You know I am to do your work. I will work but I must be guided and directed. I cannot think. A pencil is not supposed to think. A boy is supposed to do that. I merely write down what you think is correct, and goodness only knows I often feel very badly when I have to write down all sorts of wrong answers.
“‘And when I won’t think for you,’ continued the pencil, ‘this is the way you abuse me. Think! Don’t bite me to pieces. And I’ll tell you another thing. You may bite me in two, but never, never will I do your thinking for you. I am not supposed to and I won’t.’ Thepencil was certainly very emphatic, Gerald thought, and he decided he would not argue with it.
“‘I was a lovely red pencil with black lead,’ the pencil continued, in an injured tone, ‘and now I am all bitten to pieces. One of my ends is almost useless, and I will break when the lead is used very much further. Oh, dear! And I was such a nice pencil!’ It sighed and seemed very mournful.
“Just at that moment the cotton wool came off the pencil and Gerald saw that he had been sleeping. The pencil had been badly bitten, but Gerald, now wide awake, put his mind to his studying, and found the lessons were not so hard after all!”