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Summary
Summary
A year they'll never forget
Ten-year-old Frederika (Fred for short) doesn't have much faith that the new teacher in town will last very long. After all, they never do. Most teachers who come to their one-room schoolhouse in remote, Alaska leave at the first smell of fish, claiming that life there is just too hard.
But Miss Agnes is different -- she doesn't get frustrated with her students, and she throws away old textbooks and reads Robin Hood instead! For the first time, Fred and her classmates begin to enjoy their lessons and learn to read and write -- but will Miss Agnes be like all the rest and leave as quickly as she came?
Reviews (4)
School Library Journal Review
Gr 2-5-Teaching the children in an Athabascan village in a one-room schoolhouse on the Alaskan frontier in 1948 is not every educator's dream. Then one day, tall, skinny Agnes Sutterfield arrives and life is never the same for the community. Frederika (Fred), the 10-year-old narrator, discovers that unlike previous teachers, Miss Agnes doesn't mind the smell of fish that the children bring for lunch each day. She also stokes the fire to warm the schoolhouse before the students' arrival each morning, wears pants, and speaks with a strange accent. Miss Agnes immediately packs away the old textbooks, hangs up the children's brightly colored artwork, plays opera music, and reads them Robin Hood and Greek myths. She teaches them about their land and their culture, tutors both students and parents in her cabin in the evening, and even learns sign language along with her students so that Fred's deaf sister can attend school. Hill has created more than just an appealing cast of characters; she introduces readers to a whole community and makes a long-ago and faraway place seem real and very much alive. This is an inspirational story about Alaska, the old and new ways, a very special teacher, and the influence that she has over everyone she meets. A wonderful read-aloud to start off the school year.-Kit Vaughan, Midlothian Middle School, VA (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Horn Book Review
(Intermediate) The dedication to the memory of Sylvia Ashton-Warner is a signpost to the aspirations of this novel about a one-room school in 1948 Alaska. Ten-year-old Fred (Frederika) is intrigued by the new teacher, wondering, as she does every year, if she'll stay: ""We had a whole bunch of teachers since they started the school here, back when I was six. Some left before the year was over. Some stayed one whole school year. But none ever came back after the summer."" But Miss Agnes is made of tougher stuff, with plenty of teaching and bush experience to assure her welcome in Fred's Athabascan village. The pleasures in this novel stem less from the plot (which is essentially nonexistent) than they do from the anecdotes about Miss Agnes's masterful teaching methods, as conveyed by Fred in her distinct and definite voice: ""Miss Agnes said not to worry about the spelling, just write. Anything we wanted to. Even we could make up stuff. It didn't have to be true. I really liked that. To make up pretend stories."" While the narrative point of view can seem at times disingenuous, using a child's voice to score adult points, it is always true and involving, putting readers right into Miss Agnes's classroom-a rich place indeed. (c) Copyright 2010. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted. All rights reserved.
Kirkus Review
In 1948 the unorthodox Miss Agnes arrives to teach the children of an Athabascan Indian Village in remote Alaska. Ten-year-old Fred (Fredrika) matter-of-factly narrates this story of how a teacher transformed the school. Miss Agnes's one-room schoolhouse is a progressive classroom, where the old textbooks are stored away first thing upon her arrival. The children learn to read using handmade books that are about their own village and lives: winter trapping camps, tanning moose hides, fishing, and curing the catch, etc. Math is a lesson on how not to get cheated when selling animal pelts. These young geographers learn about the world on a huge map that covers one whole schoolhouse wall. Fred is pitch-perfect in her observations of the village residents. "Little Pete made a picture of his dad's trapline cabin . . . He was proud of that picture, I could tell, because he kept making fun of it." Hill (Winter Camp, 1993, etc.) creates a community of realistically unique adults and children that is rich in the detail of their daily lives. Big Pete is as small and scrappy, as his son Little Pete is huge, gentle, and kind. Fred's 12-year-old deaf sister, Bokko, has her father's smile and has never gone to school until Miss Agnes. Charlie-Boy is so physically adept at age 6 that he is the best runner, thrower, and catcher of all the children. These are just a few of the residents in this rural community. The school year is not without tension. Will Bokko continue in school? Will Mama stay angry with Miss Agnes? And most important, who will be their teacher after Miss Agnes leaves? A quiet, yet satisfying account. (Fiction. 9-11) Copyright ©Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Booklist Review
Gr. 4^-6. From the author of Winter Camp (1993) comes another moving novel about Athabascan life. But instead of a wilderness survival tale, this story is an uplifting portrait of a dedicated teacher, set mostly in a cozy village classroom in 1948. Fred, a ten-year-old girl, describes the year Miss Agnes takes over the one-room school. Unlike the school's other teachers, none of whom have lasted, Miss Agnes encourages the children to explore art, literature, and their own potential. She also teaches basic subjects in relevant ways and shows sensitivity to the rhythms of village life and to each child. The students are devastated when it's time for Miss Agnes to leave, but the story ends with a happy surprise. Readers longing for action may resist the simple, subdued story. But Fred's plain, direct voice, sprinkled with regionalisms, will connect readers with the well-integrated cultural particulars, the poignant scenes of home life, and the joy Fred feels learning in the snug classroom, the snow falling outside. --Gillian Engberg
Excerpts
Excerpts
Chapter One "What will happen now?" I asked Mamma as we watched the plane take the teacher away. "Maybe no more school." Mamma twitched her shoulder a little to show she didn't care. Mamma never went to school much, just a few months here and there when her family wasn't trapping or out at spring muskrat camp. She said she hated school when she was little. The little plane circled our village and then flew low over Andreson's store and waggled its wings at us. That was Sam White, the pilot, saying good-bye to us. It was Sam White laughing, too. Sam thought nearly everything was funny. He had just landed with the mail and there the new teacher was, waiting for him when he opened the door of the cockpit. She pushed right through the rest of us and started talking before Sam even got to say hello. "Wait for me, it will only take a minute," she'd said. "Please. Take me back to town. I can't stay in this place for another second." And he'd waited, and she'd come tumbling out of her little cabin, leaving the door open, leaving everything behind but the two suitcases she carried. It was kind of funny, how she looked. I could tell Sam thought so, the way he winked at us. And then Sam had helped her into the plane and the engine had roared and they were up and over the spruce trees and on their way. I knew what she would tell Sam. She'd tell how Amy Barrington had got mad and had busted in her door because the teacher bought mukluks from Julia Pitka instead of her. And she'd tell about the big boys who didn't listen. And she'd tell about the fish. When we brought our lunch to school, it would always be fish. Salmon strips or kk'oontseek, dried fish eggs, to eat on pilot crackers. Or half-dried fish. The oil would get on the little kids' faces and on the desks. "Heavens, don't you ever eat anything but fish?" And she'd make us go to the basin and try to scrub the fish smell away with lots of Fels Naptha soap, and then with a bad face she'd scrub the oily ring from the washbasin. That one time, she pushed Plasker away from her desk when she was helping him with his arithmetic. "You smell of fish," she said, real mad, with her teeth together. Plasker looked scared. "I was helping my old man bale whitefish," he said. He was pretty nervous, wiping his hands on his pants as if that would help. The teacher told him to sit down, and she didn't even help him with his arithmetic. There were tears in her eyes. Right there we knew she was not going to stay with us. We had a whole bunch of teachers since they started the school here, back when I was six. Some left before the year was over. Some stayed one whole school year. But none ever came back after the summer. Sometimes we could see the look on their faces the first week they were here, cleaning out their little cabin, putting up pictures on the walls. The ones who looked mean from the very first lasted the longest. It was the ones who smiled all the time and pretended to like everything who didn't last. Maybe they were running out of teachers and we wouldn't get another one. But in just a week Sam brought us a new teacher. I was helping Old Man Andreson in the store when Sam came in. It was my job to cross off every day on the calendar with an X so Old Man Andreson wouldn't get mixed up and forget what day it was. And it was the first day of a new month, so I had to tear that last month off, too. October 1, it was now -- 1948. Sam was really big and tall, and when I was little, he always used to lift me up and make my head touch the ceiling. Now I was too big for that, so he just stuck me on top of the counter. "Fred! I brought you a new teacher. I kidnapped her. What do you think about that?" I had a bad feeling about that, so I asked him, "Is she nice?" "Oh-ho," said Sam. "This one's got a little mileage. You kids are not going to get away with nothin'." That didn't sound like she was going to be nice, so I wiggled down off the counter. I wanted to go have a look at her. Copyright © 2000 by Kirkpatrick Hill Excerpted from The Year of Miss Agnes by Kirkpatrick Hill All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.Table of Contents
| Chapter 1 "What will happen now?" I asked Mamma as we watched the plane take the teacher away. |
| "Maybe no more school." Mamma twitched her shoulder a little to show she didn't care. Mamma never went to school much, just a few months here and there when her family wasn't trapping or out at spring muskrat camp. She said she hated school when she was little. |
| The little plane circled our village and then flew low over Andreson's store and waggled its wings at us. That was Sam White, the pilot, saying good-bye to us. |
| It was Sam White laughing, too. Sam thought nearly everything was funny. He had just landed with the mail and there the new teacher was, waiting for him when he opened the door of the cockpit. She pushed right through the rest of us and started talking before Sam even got to say hello. |
| "Wait for me, it will only take a minute," she'd said. "Please. Take me back to town. I can't stay in this place for another second." |
| And he'd waited, and she'd come tumbling out of her little cabin, leaving the door open, leaving everything behind but the two suitcases she carried. It was kind of funny, how she looked. I could tell Sam thought so, the way he winked at us. And then Sam had helped her into the plane and the engine had roared and they were up and over the spruce trees and on their way. |
| I knew what she would tell Sam. She'd tell how Amy Barrington had got mad and had busted in her door because the teacher bought mukluks from Julia Pitka instead of her. And she'd tell about the big boys who didn't listen. And she'd tell about the fish. |
| When we brought our lunch to school, it would always be fish. Salmon strips or kk'oontseek, dried fish eggs, to eat on pilot crackers. Or half-dried fish. The oil would get on the little kids' faces and on the desks. |
| "Heavens, don't you ever eat anything but fish?" And she'd make us go to the basin and try to scrub the fish smell away with lots of Fels Naptha soap, and then with a bad face she'd scrub the oily ring from the washbasin. |
| That one time, she pushed Plasker away from her desk when she was helping him with his arithmetic. |
| "You smell of fish," she said, real mad, with her teeth together. Plasker looked scared. |
| "I was helping my old man bale whitefish," he said. He was pretty nervous, wiping his hands on his pants as if that would help. |
| The teacher told him to sit down, and she didn't even help him with his arithmetic. There were tears in her eyes. Right there we knew she was not going to stay with us. |
| We had a whole bunch of teachers since they started the school here, back when I was six. Some left before the year was over. Some stayed one whole school year. But none ever came back after the summer. |
| Sometimes we could see the look on their faces the first week they were here, cleaning out their little cabin, putting up pictures on the walls. The ones who looked mean from the very first lasted the longest. It was the ones who smiled all the time and pretended to like everything who didn't last. |
| Maybe they were running out of teachers and we wouldn't get another one. |
| But in just a week Sam brought us a new teacher. |
| I was helping Old Man Andreson in the store when Sam came in. It was my job to cross off every day on the calendar with an X so Old Man Andreson wouldn't get mixed up and forget what day it was. And it was the first day of a new month, so I had to tear that last month off, too. October 1, it was now -- 1948. |
| Sam was really big and tall, and when I was little, he always used to lift me up and make my head touch the ceiling. Now I was too big for that, so he just stuck me on top of the counter. |
| "Fred! I brought you a new teacher. I kidnapped her. What do you think about that?" |
| I had a bad feeling about that, so I asked him, "Is she nice?" |
| "Oh-ho," said Sam. "This one's got a little mileage. You kids are not going to get away with nothin'." |
| That didn't sound like she was going to be nice, so I wiggled down off the counter. |
| I wanted to go have a look at her. |
| Copyright © 2000 by Kirkpatrick Hill |