Today, we are watching Season 1, Episode 9 of Little House on the Prairie. School Mom. Which, I guess, is a play on “school marm.” Clever, Michael Landon. Very Clever.
School Mom
Here we go. Girls running down the side of the all-purpose hill. Ma and Pa are smiling. Carrie falling. Bear with me. This will be the case for several seasons.
We begin at the end of a school day, where the only one who seems to be in a rush to go home is Miss Beadle. With chores and homework waiting, I can’t really say I blame anyone for staying behind. Miss Beadle waves and unties her waiting horse and buggy.
Nellie invites Miss Beadle over for some bribery tea tomorrow, and Miss Beadle says she’ll try. I get the vibe that Miss Beadle doesn’t really want to try at all.
While this is going on, Laura is hogging the swing, and Jimmy McNichol, who I am sure has a character name, chases after the kids with a snake. Just a typical day in Walnut Grove. Miss Beadle’s horse gets spooked by the snake, setting off a rather unfortunate, but almost comical, chain of events, and she’s thrown from the carriage.
I want to pause right here to tell you that this fall has been the subject of several online debates in Little House on the Prairie Facebook groups. Some are sure that Charlotte Stewart is doing her own stunts, and others, who, according to their research, believe this particular stunt is handled by a stuntman named Bob Miles. I have no dog in the stuntman fight. It’s the plot device we needed to advance the School Mom storyline. Well done, whoever.
Ma’s Visitors
Cut to the Little House on the Prairie, which, in the real Laura Ingalls Wilder World, is actually On the Banks of Plum Creek. Ma is in front of the house, facing a group of townspeople. Judging by the backs of their heads, I’d say they were Mr. Hanson, Mr. Oleson, Mrs. Oleson, and Doc Baker.
“Me?” Ma is saying in disbelief. “You want me to teach the children?” Mr. Hanson gives her a “ya” and lets her know that they want her very much. For a family that’s lived in Walnut Grove for about ten minutes, I’d say the Ingalls are really making their mark! Apparently, this group of people made a list, and Ma is the only person on it. Which surprises me, because I feel like Harriet Oleson would want to get in on that. And between you and me, I’m disappointed that she didn’t. Harriet is good TV.
Mr. Hanson tells Ma she’s the most qualified, to which Ma says she’s flattered. “You have had experience teaching, haven’t you?” demands Harriet. Ma agrees that she’s taught school, but it’s been a while. Ma would like to think about it, while Harriet wants assurances that Ma won’t show favoritism to her girls. Excuse me, but wasn’t your NepoBaby #1 just inviting Miss Beadle over for a cup of bribery tea?
Ma gives Harriet a look like she wants to cut a biatch and tells Mr. Hanson she’s made up her mind and she’ll teach the children. And thank goodness for that because, again, there’s no one else on the list.
That night, Ma tosses and turns in bed. That Mrs. Olseson makes her so angry! If she says no, Ma says yes, every time. Pa tells her she can change her mind if she wants. Ma says she wants to teach the kids because they need her and not just to spite Mrs. Oleson. I don’t know. Spiting Mrs. Oleson is a really good reason if you ask me.
School Mom’s First Day
A brief digression. When I was a senior in high school, my mom briefly subbed there while she was between jobs. I hated it. She wanted to walk to school with me. I had to sneak out if she was in a room that overlooked the smoking area, and I was afraid of which teachers she sat with in the cafeteria because there were stories to tell. Don’t even ask me about the days when she had one of my classes. This was in a larger school district. I can imagine how stifled one would feel having a mother as a teacher in one room school house.
Digression over.
At school, I’m assuming, the next morning, Nellie Oleson is telling the class that her mother wasn’t sure that Mrs. Ingalls should be teaching the class because she’s not qualified. “What’s that mean?” a boy asks Nellie. “She can’t teach.” She’s reminded that Mary said that Ma used to be a teacher, and Nellie says that that was a long time ago. “And things have changed,” Willie throws in for good measure. I’m left to wonder, again, why Harriet wasn’t on this mythical teaching list if Ma is so unqualified.
As the kids talk, a big galoot of a kid, who we’ve never seen before and will never see again, walks in. What is it with these oversized children in Walnut Grove? Is there something in the water over at Plum Creek? This guy is more than Johnny Johnson-sized. I’ll have to look and see if he’s wearing shoes.
Laura and Mary walk in with Ma, and all the kids break it up and take their seats. Ma says good morning to the children, and they all stare at her in return. She says they don’t need to introduce themselves because they all know who each other is. Or are. Grammarly isn’t helping me here.
Ma explains that she’ll be teaching the kids until Miss Beadle returns. None of the children are speaking and Ma wants to know what the trouble is. There’s still no response, so she asks Jimmy McNichol, who tells her, “you ain’t a teacher.” Judging by his grammar, Miss Beadle isn’t much of one either. Ma tells him that she’s been asked to teach, and he replies that it still doesn’t make her a teacher. He’s a bit cheeky, that one.
Ma informs him that she taught school in the East.
Jimmy McNichol tells her that it was a long time ago and it “ain’t the same now.” Ma thinks they all must like Miss Beadle very much. The kids agree. Ma MaSplains that it’s not easy to know what another person can do until you give him or her a chance. That’s some real Pa logic right there.
Ma asks Jimmy McNichol what he does best, and he says that he can bat a ball farther than most anyone. Ma invites him to show them, and the kids go outside. I am secretly hoping that Harriet is watching from the mercantile. The big galooty kid is looking like he doesn’t want to get up from his seat in the back, where no one seems to notice him as they file by to go outside.
Willie pitches to Jimmy McNichol, and he hits the ball as well as he said he would. Then he hands the bat to Ma, who knocks it out of the park, making the big galootey kid smile. Ma tells everyone to get back inside. As Ma goes inside, she tells Laura and Mary that they needn’t tell their Pa about this.
Oh, Ma. You know how I feel about keeping secrets.
Abel Can’t Read
Back inside, Nellie reads a passage about perseverance. When she finishes, she remarks that Miss Beadle always gives her high marks in reading. And deservedly so, that was some good reading, Nellie. Hair pats and gold stars for you!
Ma calls Abel McKay up next, which turns out to be the big galootey kid’s name. Everyone giggles when Ma asks him to read, and she quiets them. Laura tries to tell Ma something, but she’s shushed in response. All the kids snicker, and Abel runs out of the school. Laura tells Ma that Abel can’t read and doesn’t come to school much.
Ma looks like she’s feeling a project coming on. Oh, come on. You know where this is going.
Coffee With Miss Beadle
Cut to Ma checking in on Miss Beadle. She’s not in a rush to get home either. Miss Beadle doesn’t know what all the fuss is about. It’s just a sprained ankle. But Doc Baker does know best, after all. And she’s pleased to hear the children are in good hands.
Ma sets her teacup in her saucer and says, “Good hands indeed,” in a way that doubts those good hands. Here it comes. Ma explains that she lost one pupil, Abel. Ma didn’t know he was “backward,” which I am assuming is Prairie Speak for mentally challenged.
Miss Beadle says that Abel isn’t backward. And he’s as bright as any other kid in the class. “Well, why can’t he read?” Ma asked. I don’t know, Ma, maybe for the same reason Jimmy McNichol is still saying aint. The learning might be a little lacking in that class. When Laura picked up reading in about five minutes under Miss Beadle, one has to wonder why she didn’t take the same attention with Abel. Other than, you know, plot devices.
Miss Beadle said that Abel only came to class about a month ago and was humiliated by kids who are six or seven years old learning to read. And of course, the other children laughed. Miss Beadle hoped Abel would regain confidence.
Dumb Abel
Ma walks home wearing an unfortunate and eye-popping, not to mention mismatching, orange shawl. At home, Pa asks her how her school teaching went, and Ma tells him she failed miserably. Mary tells him that’s not true, and Laura says that Ma is a good teacher. Pa wants to hear all about it, and Ma tells him she lost a student who needed her most. Laura tells her that he’s just Dumb Abel. Ouch. Harsh, Half Pint.
Ma gets her stern voice on and tells Laura she’s ashamed of her. Mary, showing an uncharacteristic lack of empathy, says that it’s just a nickname. How about we ask Abel what he thinks of that nickname, Mares?
Ma threatens to wash the mouth out of any child she hears say it with the strongest soap she can find. I can’t wait to see how the residents of Walnut Grove will feel about Ma washing their kids mouths out with soap. Harriet Oleson lives for moments like that.
Mat goes in to make dinner, but Pa already beat her to it and tells the girls to set the table. I just hope we’re not treated to another dinner table moment.
Ma sits by the creek, and Pa comes by to hear all about her day. He tells Ma she can’t blame herself, and maybe he IS a little backward. Ma doesn’t accept that and says he can learn.
The Rising Cost of Eggs
Another day, and Ma is back in her orange shawl, dropping eggs off at the Mercantile before school. Mrs. Oleson is in awe over Ma’s eggs and says Ma’s eggs deserve a bribe, I mean, raise. As she’s unbasketing the eggs, she waxes poetic about Ma’s fabulous teaching abilities, per Nellie and Willie. Harriet thinks Nellie would be a great monitor, and she can pass out tests and help with other things. Mrs. Oleson pays Ma for her eggs and adds a little four-cent padding to the haul.
“I thought you knew,” Ma said, and MaSplains that the monitor job is for kids who don’t like school, as it helps to get them more involved. Well played, Ma. Well played. Ma leaves the Mercantile richer in more ways than one.
At school, Nellie presents Ma with a bribe in the form of an apple. Those Oleson women are relentless.
School Mom Visits Dumb Abel
After school, Ma stops by the mill to tell Pa that she’s stopping by Abel’s house, and he gives her the keys to the wagon.
Dumb Abel waves as Ma pulls up and she introduces herself to his dad. Ma tells Mr. McKay that his son didn’t show up for school, and he responds that it’s up to Abel. Mr. McKay doesn’t need school smarts because he has savvy. Ma would like Mr. McKay to tell Dumb Abel to come back to school, and Mr. McKay says no. Ma is welcome to ask him back, but if he says no, he’ll thank her to leave him alone. It’s like he went to The Olga’s Dad School of Parenting.
Abel is making what appears to be a voodoo doll. As he works, Ma tells him that she’ll have him reading in no time. Ma looks at the voodoo doll and tells Abel it looks really nice. He shows her a bird that he made out of mud, and she tells him, “Anyone with eyes that can see like this can learn.”
“Do you really think so?” Dumb Abels asks. “I know so,” Ma assures him.
Dumb Abel Learns to Read
At school, the kids are playing outside. Ma, divested of her unfortunate shawl, claps her hands and calls the kids to gather around a tree with her. Ma wants to know if everyone is there, and Nellie informs her that Abel isn’t there. Ma tells the class that Abel is coming in the afternoon and that he’s the reason she called the kids outside.
Ma asks if Abel McKay has ever harmed any of the kids. They all agree that he hasn’t. Next, Ma asks the kids if they’d be willing to help Abel. Ma informs all the kids that they’re all going to be teachers, and wouldn’t they like that? They all let out a resounding “Yeah!” but no one so resounding as Laura. With the kids on board, Ma voluntells them all that they’re going to help her teach Dumb Abel how to read.
That afternoon, the kids are in the schoolhouse and they all have a piece of paper with a letter written on it. I want to take some out again to remind folks how precious and dear paper was back in the day ,and this is a big fat waste of money that no one but the Olesons and maybe Mr. Hanson and Doc Baker (when he’s not getting paid with chickens) have. Anyway, Ma tells all their kids to get their letters ready.
As Abel walks in, Ma tells everyone that they are going to have a review. They’re all making too many mistakes with their reading and spelling, and need to go back to the fundamentals. So a lie, then. Because, as we are jolly well know, when Ma and Pa Ingalls lie, it doesn’t count.
Ma tells all the kids that when she calls their names, they should hold up their letters and tell her how it sounds. (For the record, Abel has a T.) When the letters form a word, the person holding up the letters will tell them what it is. Look at Ma making reading fun and inclusive!
As School Mom calls on each child they hold up their letters, name the letters, and the sound they make, while Dumb Abel looks on in awe. The first completed word is “dog.”
The next round of students begin, with a c and an a. Predictably, Dumb Abel, who sounds way too grown up to be in this classroom, is called upon and completes the word “cat.” He did it! Abel spelled a word! Becoming the first “kid” called upon twice, Abel also spells out the word “bat.” Ma beams with pride and Mary winks at Ma.
As Pa drives everyone home from school, a gushing Ma tells Pa that she never had a better day.
Ma Quits School
The next day, Ma is holding up whole words, written with perfect letters. I am suprised no one is coming at her with all the paper she’s been using, but that doesn’t really seem to be a concern in Walnut Grove.
As Abel spells “boat,” Mrs. Oleson walks in. Well. She couldn’t believe it when her kids told her, but now she sees it’s true. That Mrs. Ingalls stopped teaching the other kids to pamper her favorite child. “This, this, this dumb Abel person here.” Ok, I love me some Harriet, but this is harsh.
Abel runs out and Harriet says that he should even be in school, he’s as big as she is. And I can’t really argue with that. In her trying not to lose her sh*t voice, Ma asks the children if anyone can spell “compassion.” She turns and writes it on the board. Next, she asks about “understanding.” She tells the children that Mrs. Oleson doesn’t understand the meaning of these words either. Ma begins gathering up her unfortunate orange shawl.
“I happen to be a member of the board,” Mrs. Oleson tells Ma. Ma dismisses the school and tells the children there will be no more school until another teacher is found. I’m so disappointed because I never took Ma to be a quitter.
The Return of the Walnut Grove School Board
A wagon pulls up to the Little House on the Prairie. It’s the Walnut Grove School Board, no doubt to have a word with Ma.
Ma is outside taking laundry off the line, not greeting the members of the board or even looking at any of them. Mr. Hanson tells Ma they have come back, hats in their hands, to ask her please to reconsider. Dr. Baker tells Ma that they’d like her to go back to teaching, but Ma doesn’t think she can. The good doctor tells her they’ve heard rather conflicting reports. Ma glares at Mrs. Oleson as Dr. Baker asks Ma for her side. Ma wants to answer the question with another question.
Ma looks at Mr. Hanson and says, “Suppose you were at your mill, grinding wheat into flour, making a special effort, and someone came in uninvited…”
“Oh, I don’t allow anyone in the grinding room,” Mr. Hanson says, cutting her off.
“Suppose this person came in anyway and threw a rock into the millstones and ruined all you were trying to do…”
Mr. Hanson tells Ma he would take that person by their collar and the seat of their pants and throw them out of the room. I’d like to see him do that with Harriet. Oh yes, I would. The idea did occur to Ma, but unhappily, she is a lady.
My girl Harriet is looking a little uncomfortable about now. Ma invites her to tell everyone about it.
Mrs. Oleson doesn’t think it’s anything as serious as that. Something something about a mother having a right and then goes on about how one pupil shouldn’t get special attention at the expense of the others.
Mr. Hanson asks Mr. Oleson to take his wife by the collar and, disappointingly, stops himself and asks Mr. Oleson to take his wife back to the wagon while the grownups have a conversation behind her back.
Mr. Hanson promises there will be no more interference, and Dr. Hanson personally guarantees it. Ma doesm’t see the point now that she lost the student who needed her most. Because apparently, in a school full of kids who say “aint,” only one person in Walnut Grove needs to learn. Ma apologizes and says she doesn’t think she could be a teacher.
Popcorn in Bed
In bed that night, Pa is noisily eating popcorn and reading a book. Ma is looking like sleep isn’t coming any time soon, but that could also be Pa eating like he lives in a barn. Seriously, I feel like I ask this with every episode, but what is up with the way this family eats? Is it supposed to be endearing to have bad manners?
Pa is reading a book about how to make paint. Ma wants to know if he’s painting something tomorrow, and Pa admits he is not. Ma wants to know if he has to read a book about making paint tonight. Pa puts book and popcorn aside and faces Ma.
Ma says she’s always upset when she loses her temper and that it’s probably for the best that she’s not doing it anymore. She never should have accepted in the first place. Pa agrees and rolls over.
A minute later, Pa says that he saw Christie’s father today. Apparently, Mrs. Oleson is going to start teaching school tomorrow. Ma is shocked. Shocked, I tell you! She says that Laura and Mary won’t be going if Mrs. Oleson is going to teach. Pa turns his head away, amused.
Ma isn’t done. She goes on about how Mrs. Oleson isn’t fit to teach school. If only she didn’t lose her temper and quit! Pa reminds her that she just got through telling him it was for the best. “As far as Mrs. Oleson is concerned,” Ma tells him, “nothing is for the best.” Then asks Pa to pass the popcorn so she can eat her feelings.
I guess it’s the next morning. Pa is hammering logs into a triangle, as one does. Ma comes out of the house, wearing the unfortunate orange shawl. She’s carrying her basket of eggs and walking with purpose. She calls out to Pa that she won’t be long and he reminds her that the eggs are for selling and not throwing. A missed opportunity. Throwing eggs is much better TV.
Mrs. Oleson isn’t at the Mercantile, and Mr. Oleson stops himself before telling Ma where he is. They discuss egg prices for a bit and then Ma gets .56 cents for her trouble. Her timing is impeccable as she walks out of the Mercantile just as Mrs. Oleson is ringing the bell for the students to come in. Except no students appear.
Ma pauses on the steps to make sure Mrs. Oleson sees her.
Mrs. Oleson takes Willie and Nellie aside and asks them if they told the other students that Mrs. Oleson was going to teach today? Indeed they did. And per Willie, that’s the trouble.
Another missed opportunity. Harriet trying to teach school is much better television than a heart to heart with Dumb Abel.
MaSplainin’
Ma walks away. As she walks home, shawl in hand, Abel meets her. Pa let him know where she’d be walking. In his very grown up voice, Abel apologizes to Ma for running off. Ma understands and tells him that the important thing is that he’s going back. Abel tells her he’s not going back. He’s too old. There ‘aint no use.
Abel tells Ma that she was so good to him, he made her something that she could use to teach the other kids. He made an A for Abel. Out of wood or clay or soemthing. He made the whole darn alphabet and offers to make numbers when Ma tells him that in the time they had, letters and numbers got into his head and he’s never going to forget them. He’s going to learn to read and write and figure. Abel tells Ma that he won’t be going back to school.
Ma begins to Masplain that when Abel ran away from school she ran away too. Pouring on the guilt, she tells Abel that when she lost him she felt she wasn’t fit to be a teacher. Abel tells her she’s a good teacher. “What kind of teacher am I, when I can’t help the student who needed me most?” Abel tells her it’s not her faults he’s Dumb Abel. “You’re not dumb!” Ma tells Dumb Abel. “Well you’re not a bad teacher!” he counters. “We have a problem, don’t we?” Ma asks. “How are we going to solve it?”
“Well, I aint going back,” Abel tells her. Ma tells him she’s not going back either. Abel asks Ma if she will go back to school if he does? Why, yes. Abel. That was her plan all along.
An undisclosed period of time later, we are back at school and Not So Dumb Abel is writing words on the blackboard. In fact, it’s a whole Smart Abel collage with him reading and reciting the state capital.
Last Day of School for School Mom
Another undisclosed period of time later, Ma is sitting at the creek and Pa walks up to her. Doesn’t Pa have a job anymnore? He’s ALWAYS home. Pa mentions that it’s Ma’s last day of school and asks if she’s glad it’s over. Ma says yes, but she did enjoy it. They kiss and all is right with the world.
Ma, Laura and Mary walk to school together. There’s a big welcome back sign for Miss Beadle who is sitting at her desk. Ma welcomes Miss Beadle back and Miss Beadle tells Ma that Abel, the miracle reader, has something to read.
In his extremely grownup voice, Abel reads a letter of thanks from the class. Now either Miss Beadle’s sprained ankle took forever to heal, or Ma is a miracle worker, because Dumb Abel is reading like a champ. Ma gets a standing ovation and beams with pride at Abel.
Ma closes the door, walks down the stairs, looks back at the school, and as she walks away the door that she just closed is wide open. The ghost of Dumb Abel exits the building.