“That you, honey?”
“Yeh, hon,’’ he replied, softly.
“Everything alright?”
“Right,” he replied, into the opening of the door, “I’m gonna read a little while—O.K.?” He said.
“O.K.,” she replied, murmuring drowsily, he could see her drowsy smile almost, which he loved so much.
“Don’t be too long,” she added, falling away.
He nodded and left. He walked past Jane’s door. He peeked in and could just see her form in the bed. She was asleep. He entered the room and went up to her bed. He leaned over. He heard her breathing. He saw her pretty face, her mother’s face, and her blond hair spilling over the pillow. He kissed her on the lips, lightly. She gave a little sigh, but otherwise did not stir. Tiger felt warm, and good, toward her. He loved her. He was smiling, as he left the room.
Reaching his den, he flipped on the light and looked around. There was some school work to do, a batch of Health Ed test papers to peruse, some Guidance/Counseling stuff. But there was no great hurry, he could take care of that tomorrow. He picked up the latest Time magazine. It was open at the page he had reached earlier in the day. He sat down in his comfortable easy chair, near the desk, and began to read. He wasn’t exactly in love with the magazine, but sometimes it had useful information in it. Without a doubt. That was it.
He read—
—The Need For Laughter—
What Tiger was reading actually was a review of a book in the Education pages, a book in the field of Education, that is, by one Kenneth Eble, a Professor of Education somewhere, Tiger noted. It seemed interesting. It was something like this that made the subscription worthwhile, he knew, even before starting to read the review. He just knew. The letters weren’t all that bad either. Often, he was amused. Other times, intrigued. Once in a while, bewildered, also. Were they made up? Was some editor charged with the task? Tiger grinned, wondering. One of these days they’d be doing a little article on Sawyersville, the fabulous team. He knew it, without a doubt, they’d do it. He read—
—Love, learning and life are what education is all about. Yet somehow, US schools never get involved in any of them. Tiger halted, nodding his head, musing, smiling a little bit. He couldn’t agree more. From one end of the country to the other, he knew, and up and down, to boot, the situation was exactly like that, absolutely. It was sad. Here and there, of course, there were isolated patches to the contrary, those wonderful exceptions that always occurred, no matter how grim a situation. Tiger knew. He hoped Sawyersville was one of them. He liked to think it was. Certainly, it was his goal. He agreed, and completely, with the Professor’s wise words.
—“to learn,” writes Eble, “is to love**
Absolutely, Tiger thought, delighted. Of course it was.
That was a remarkable truth to read in this magazine, and no doubt of it, even if it was only quoting. Did everything, but everything, after all, serve a purpose? As Hetty Nectar so often told him? Tiger chuckled. She was so fond of saying it. He read—
—Students ought to revel in discovery, Eble says, but educators from grade to grad school—Tiger loved that— have a knack for taking most of the joy out of learning. . . .
Still grinning at the cute turn of phrase, a specialty of the magazine, true, he knew, Tiger nodded his head. Who was this Eble? Tiger wondered, did he know him, perchance? He kept on wondering. The name was vaguely familiar, but then that wasn’t enough. He examined the photograph of the man on the page. He could have known him. Through one of the corridors of learning somewhere their paths may well have crossed, possibly without their knowing it. Some conference perhaps, or other, it could have been. It was the smallest of smallest possible worlds, he knew. How right he was, Tiger mused, knowing or not knowing him. He read— ,
—Pupils should be in love with their teachers. . . . “It is no joke,” says Eble, “it's the way of learning.”
Certainly it was, Tiger knew. Anyone with any understanding of the human condition knew, and it certainly was a condition, well he knew. It was built into every good teacher, it was what made him or her tick, this love, this ability to elicit it. It had to be there. If it wasn’t, the result —Mummer. Tiger shook his head, over that one. Well, we couldn’t all be perfect. Once he got rid of him, he would certainly hold nothing against him. Maybe Proffer would take him on in the TV business. They could start a new line, selling Teaching Machines—to the public. Tiger grinned, over that one. Yes, Educators had to have this innate trait, the character and personality structure that went with it, to elicit love, to make pupils fall in love with them. Eble had hit it. Warmth. So many educators lacked it. Too many more were afraid of it. What was wrong with it? It was, basically, Mummer’s trouble. And Crisp-well’s. Tiger reflected further, on the former, the very teacher Ponce had apparently bowled over that morning in his flight from the lavatory. He certainly fell in that category. Tiger knew the kids just hated to go to his classes, they were bored stiff by them. How well it tied in with the man's fanatic belief in Teaching Machines, and other similar “educational aids,” so called, ironically. And the next paragraph—
“. . . that is the advantage of live teachers and live books—they can be fallen in love with, possessed—That is the whole secret of real educationEble says. . . .
The article concluded, leaving Tiger highly delighted, and contemplating writing a letter even to the fellow, Eble, congratulating him on his efforts. Maybe he would even send him reprints of some of his own papers, in case he hadn’t ever seen them. They had appeared for the most part in the State Educational Journal, which he may or may not have taken. They were specialized articles, in the sphere of Guidance/Counseling, for the most pan. Certainly, he would be interested in them. Tiger also made a note to get a copy of the book, through the usual channels, Hetty Nectar, that sweetheart of a Librarian, of course. She was a marvelous Librarian, the best Sawyersville had ever hired, no doubt of it. Tiger mused, over her. The kids loved her. They made full use of the Library.. . .