The day passed incredibly slowly。 She never knew what to do;
there came horrible gaps; when she was merely exposed to the
children; and when; relying on some pert little girl for
information; she had started a lesson; she did not know how to
go on with it properly。 The children were her masters。 She
deferred to them。 She could always hear Mr。 Brunt。 Like a
machine; always in the same hard; high; inhuman voice he went on
with his teaching; oblivious of everything。 And before this
inhuman number of children she was always at bay。 She could not
get away from it。 There it was; this class of fifty collective
children; depending on her for mand; for mand it hated and
resented。 It made her feel she could not breathe: she must
suffocate; it was so inhuman。 They were so many; that they were
not children。 They were a squadron。 She could not speak as she
would to a child; because they were not individual children;
they were a collective; inhuman thing。
Dinner…time came; and stunned; bewildered; solitary; she went
into the teachers room for dinner。 Never had she felt such a
stranger to life before。 It seemed to her she had just
disembarked from some strange horrible state where everything
was as in hell; a condition of hard; malevolent system。 And she
was not really free。 The afternoon drew at her like some
bondage。
The first week passed in a blind confusion。 She did not know
how to teach; and she felt she never would know。 Mr。 Harby came
down every now and then to her class; to see what she was doing。
She felt so inpetent as he stood by; bullying and
threatening; so unreal; that she wavered; became neutral and
non…existent。 But he stood there watching with the
listening…genial smile of the eyes; that was really threatening;
he said nothing; he made her go on teaching; she felt she had no
soul in her body。 Then he went away; and his going was like a
derision。 The class was his class。 She was a wavering
substitute。 He thrashed and bullied; he was hated。 But he was
master。 Though she was gentle and always considerate of her