“Forever Sharp” by Terri Elders

Terri Elders is in the habit of writing perfectly charming stories from her home near Colville, WA, in the Pacific Northwest. “Forever Sharp” will be published in a Dream of Things anthology about great teachers later this year. A list of Terri’s recent publications can be found on her brand spanking new blog, A Touch of Tarragon. She can be befriended on Facebook.

“No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” -Eleanor Roosevelt

“Pssst! Hey, Termite! Pssst!”

Glen and Jimmy were at it again, hissing like a pair of rabid rattlesnakes. I wished I could stick my fingers in my ears to tune them out. But maybe they were right, I thought. I actually did chew my pencils to pieces. I guessed I really was just a termite, just an insect.

“You’ve got to ignore them,” my big sister, Patti, had advised. “Don’t pay them any attention whatsoever.”

I tried to follow her advice. Though in l945 we were only eight and nine, Patti already knew how to handle boys. Nobody ever called her anything worse than Pinup Patti or Cover Girl, which she’d reward with a wink, a saucy remark, or a flirtatious toss of her curls.

I didn’t want their attention at all. Boys just made me blush and hang my head. When they’d start to taunt, I’d fight the urge to sniffle or to stick my thumb in my mouth. I was convinced that boys were a separate species, like ring-tailed monkeys or Martians. They certainly couldn’t be human.

“Terry Termite, Terry Termite,” Glen and Jimmy continued to chant. I opened the lid of my school desk and peered inside. I wished I could shrink myself enough to jump right inside and pull the lid down over me. Instead I tossed in the gnawed remains of my old pencil, took out a fresh one, and then slammed down the lid with enough force that Miss Magee turned from the blackboard where she had been posting our homework assignment.

“What’s going on?” Miss Magee looked directly at the boys in the back of the room. I swung my head around just in time to catch Glen’s gap-toothed grin as he widened his eyes, a sure sign he was about to tell a whopper.

“Nothing. Terry asked if she could see our multiplication tables. She still doesn’t get the sevens and eights.”

Sure, I struggled with multiplication, but even Miss Magee would know how improbable it would be for me or anyone else to ask either Glen or Jimmy for assistance with schoolwork of any kind. When I helped Miss Magee pass out corrected papers, I’d noticed the red marks that crisscrossed their pages. I might ask them how to harness a mule or skin a rabbit, maybe, if my life depended on it, but arithmetic? No way.

“I thought I heard hissing.” Miss Magee took off her glasses and shook her head. “That doesn’t sound like nothing to me. And somehow I doubt that Terry asked to see your work.”

I just froze with embarrassment. I didn’t want the whole room to hear this. That would just mean more boys teasing me later. I caught myself just in time as I moved my pencil towards my mouth. If only I could stop chewing them, I thought, maybe the boys would stop calling me Terry Termite. I smiled weakly, and then started to use the pencil to copy down our homework assignment.

After the bell rang, Miss Magee stopped me as I neared the door.

“I received two apples today. Let’s sit outside for a while and eat them.”

I nodded. Often Miss Magee would invite one or the other of us to share a few minutes after school. I was always happy to be singled out. We walked over to the playground and sat at the picnic table. I took a few deep breaths of the crisp late autumn air and wondered what we’d talk about this time. Once it had been about my penmanship, which, like my multiplication, was not too good. Another time it had been about my book report on Dandelion Cottage, which was really good.

As we munched, Miss Magee reached into her pocket.

“Once you get into sixth grade and move on to Room Three, you’ll be using ink pens,” she began. “But for now, I want you to have this.”

She showed me a slim round silver piece of metal. I didn’t know at first what it was.

“It’s an Eversharp, a mechanical pencil,” she said. “I’ll show you how it works.” She clicked a tiny button at one end, and a little piece of lead emerged from the other end. “The point never gets blunt, so it
never needs sharpening. And when you run out of lead, there’s more pieces stored in the case.”

She handed me the pencil. I caressed the silver tube. It wouldn’t be anything I’d want to put in my mouth and chomp. I was content just to stroke it.

“I think you’re going to be a writer when you grow up,” Miss Magee continued. “I’m never going to be able to give you an A in penmanship, since you write all over the paper instead of on the lines. But what you write is fresh and thoughtful. I’d like to see you write about pencils for your next essay. I’ll enjoy watching the boys while you read it out loud.”

I stared at the instrument. Could it be true? Could I break my gnawing habit?

Right away the new Eversharp began to work its magic. Whenever I felt nervous, I’d just caress it with my thumb. Within a day or two the hisses behind me had ceased.

A week later I stood before the class, paper in hand.

“My essay is called Pencils and Pencil Heads,” I announced. Nobody laughed, but I thought I saw Glen and Jimmy begin to squirm.

Sixty years later, I don’t recall the exact words of my effort, but I acknowledged having a bad habit of chewing on my pencils when I was nervous. I remember stressing how lucky we were that pencils have erasers, so that we can undo our mistakes. I contrasted that with real life, where our mistakes have a more permanent impact, and can do serious harm. I alluded to name calling as an illustration, and I’d glanced meaningfully towards the rear of the room.

Thanks to Miss Magee, I think I had made my point. Jimmy and Glen gave me no more than a quick nod when I returned to my desk. No hisses, no evil grins. The days of Terry Termite were over.

Soon though I heard taunts related to a popular comic strip of the day, Terry and the Pirates. I wanted to be a pirate even less than I’d wanted to be a termite. Miss Magee helpfully suggested I change the spelling of my nickname to Terri, to make a better pair with my sister’s Patti.

Ever sharp, that Miss Magee! She changed my life forever.