Chapter 71 – The Arrival of the New Teacher
Perhaps the most chaotic, mind-wracking period had already passed – or perhaps Mrs. Whitcombe was not as fragile as she appeared, and Clara was more capable than anyone had expected. In any case, Jade found that managing her regular classes and the winter tuition sessions now felt almost effortless compared to the turmoil she had gone through during her breakdown.
Maybe I don’t need an assistant teacher after all, Jade mused. But she quickly corrected herself. No – I’m leaving after Semester 3. I need to prepare someone to take over the next batch of students. Yea, I still need an assistant, at least that’s what we can afford.
Ideally, she would prefer a male candidate. Not out of personal preference, but because, in this society, men were far more likely to have received proper education. Women, more often than not, were trained to become proper wives. Girls’ schools did not teach practical skills for survival, and that’s something essential for ragged school students.
At the same time, she wasn’t keen on hiring someone from a college or university either. Those men usually aimed for positions among the elites – politicians, administrations, prestige. Their knowledge and ambitions did not align with what her students actually needed.
Maybe we should hire retired servants from noble households, Jade considered. They would have picked up a wide range of practical skills, right?
Mr. Anderson himself had once been a servant. That made her wonder whether someone from Mr. Rich Sponsor’s huge estate might be suitable, and whether it would be appropriate to ask.
Well… it’s a ragged school we’re running here. Decent candidates probably won’t come knocking. Jade thought, shaking her head. We might just have to take whoever applies.
Setting that aside, she turned her attention back to the chained beans submitted by the working students.
She had expected worse – messy clumps, loose knots, beans slipping out of their thread cage, mismatched colours. But the results were far better than she had imagined.
The colours were mostly correct. The beans were arranged with some awareness of their differing sizes. There were a few loose knots here and there, but overall, the chains – each tagged with the name of its maker – were more than acceptable.
John Potter stood in front of her, looking slightly nervous. “Miss Jade, we didn’t do it wrong, did we?”
“Not at all,” Jade said, genuinely impressed. “This is excellent.”
John, acting as their representative – for some reason, the students always preferred to send one person instead of approaching her as a group – had brought all the chains they had made the previous night under a streetlamp.
They had followed Miss Jade’s instructions carefully: work under proper lighting, no more than an hour, stay in groups, and remain safe. Some parents and older siblings have even joined in. Even the usual vagrants and street sleepers had kept their distance from the gathered group.
John grinned at Jade’s praise, then asked curiously, “But Miss Jade, we still don’t see how these can become a curtain… They do look nice, though. My mum said she’d like a short one to wrap around her hair as decoration.”
“You could do that,” Jade said with a nod. “Bracelets, necklaces, wall decorations – those are all possible. But they require better lighting and more time for finer details. And honestly, they might not sell well. These are cheap materials. The poor can make their own, and no one with a few coins in their pocket would want to buy them as accessories. Can you imagine a lady dressed in silk and satin, only for you to notice her wrist is wrapped in a bracelet made of beans?”
She gave a small shrug. “Curtains, on the other hand, serve a practical purpose for servants and working households.”
Jade stood up and made use of the top edge of the blackboard, beginning to hang the chains of beans. One by one, as they aligned, the students who had remained after dismissal watched in surprise. The coloured beans, scattered among the pale ones, gradually formed simple geometric shapes. Nothing too intricate, just a few circles, but it was unlike anything they had seen before.
Jade ran her finger lightly across the hanging strands. The chains swayed, brushing against one another and producing a soft, rustling sound.
“We can leave them loose like this,” she said, “but I don’t think people here would appreciate this kind of decoration. So we’ll need to fix them in place. Like weaving, run threads horizontally to secure the strands. Then it becomes a sheet, with fringes and gaps. Good for blocking insects while still letting air through… Well, not all insects,” she added with a small shrug. “But at least the bigger ones. You know how stuffy rooms get in summer.”
Before seeing the arrangement, the idea of a “bean curtain” had been vague at best. But now that John saw it taking shape, his eyes lit up. “I see it! I see it now!” he exclaimed. “I know what to do!”
“Good,” Jade nodded. “Leave these here, I’ll handle the horizontal threads today. The next batch would be all yours to handle – I trust that you are capable of explaining the rest to the other and arranging the tasks among your group? As for the patterns, you’re free to decide. I’d suggest simple geometric ones, but feel free to be creative. Who knows? Some customers might like your designs. And if you can’t think of anything, just follow the pamphlet or make a plain one; that’s fine too. Now, go fetch the beans from the bakehouse.”
The boy, who had been nodding enthusiastically, paused. “The bakehouse? Not the storeroom?”
“No. We need to dry the beans first,” Jade explained. “Bake them properly so they won’t mould or spoil. You can also use other beans or basically any hard-shelled seeds if you find any, just make sure they’re dried before use.”
“Hard-shelled seeds…” John repeated, thinking. “Miss Jade, can we use the seeds we find by the riverbank? I remember picking up some large ones there.”
“Sure, but make sure they’re not poisonous,” Jade replied. After a brief pause, she added, “Catch a mouse or rat to test it first. Feed it the seeds. If it dies, don’t use them. We can’t risk someone – especially a child or a pet – accidentally swallowing one later.”
“Ay, Miss Jade. I’ll note it down in the pamphlets,” John said, before hurrying off.
Clara, who had been quietly observing, turned her gaze to the dangling curtain. “It is a most interesting and inventive idea, Jade.”
“I don’t think it’s that inventive,” Jade said with a shrug. “I’ve seen something like it before.”
She had seen far too many things online in her precious life. This idea had probably come from some video she had once scrolled past.
As Jade settled down to spend part of her afternoon working on the curtain, Clara added thoughtfully, “I begin to wonder if you might be the daughter of a trader. A successful one, perhaps. One who traveled often and brought you along. It would explain your wide range of knowledge… though not a particular depth in any single field.”
Jade turned to Clara, who was grinning, clearly pleased with herself for coming up with this theory. The maiden had recently fallen into a rabbit hole of detective serials and had taken to playing little guessing games with Jade, trying to deduce the origins of certain items or the backgrounds of students’ families. She was often wrong, and this time was no exception.
Jade didn’t spoil Clara’s self-satisfied smile. No one here would ever know the truth of her past anyway. She simply gave a small shrug and replied, “Well, only the Light knows. Even I have no idea who I was before I nearly drowned.”
Ignoring Clara’s quiet muttering – likely influenced by her habit of babbling – Jade made her way toward the dining hall for dinner. She reminded herself to ask the students working at the stall to purchase more strings and threads with the stall’s earnings. Supplies were already running low with the addition of the curtain project.
Winter life in the domus had finally settled into a rhythm, at least from Jade’s perspective.
Everything now followed a structure. Most tasks had their own standard procedures, and any unexpected disruption would eventually be refined into a new one. What had once been a simple notebook of records had grown into a thick manual: lesson plans, methods for handling students, guidance on dealing with parents, instruction for managing projects, basic bookkeeping, even a list of useful contacts. Jade was thoroughly preparing for her departure, even though it was still months away.
And Father Rochester, after reaching out through his network, finally brought in three teacher candidates: two men to assist Mr. Anderson, and one woman to assist Jade.
When it was her turn to meet with Father Rochester, she entered the study to meet the person who would work alongside her for the remainder of her time at the domus.
Father Rochester introduced them. “Miss Dorothy Arrowot, this is Miss Jade Lysmere, one of our finest teachers, who will be guiding you in the days to come. Miss Jade, this is Miss Arrowot. She had travelled from Brightfield. It took her several days to arrive.”
“Greetings, Miss Lysmere.” The lady before Jade was blonde, around twenty-two. She gave a polite bow. “I come on the recommendation of Lady Eleanor Ashborne, and I hope to learn from you how to guide children toward goodness.”
Lady Eleanor Ashborne, Mr. Rich Sponsor’s younger sister, a girl Jade had yet to meet. The recommendation surprised her at first, but only briefly. Father Rochester must have informed him of the recruitment, and news would naturally reach his sister.
“Nice to meet you, Miss Arrowot. You may call me Jade,” she replied, returning the bow.
They both took their seats as Father Rochester continued. “As you know, Miss Jade intends to resign after Semester 3, at the end of May. Following a week’s break, the new term will begin in June. At that time, Miss Arrowot, you will take full charge of the class and the new intake.”
He placed a document before them. Jade took a quick glance; it’s a contract.
“I am aware that a ragged school such as ours cannot retain young teachers for long,” Father Rochester said. “Yet older teachers are often less adaptable to our rapidly changing needs. Mr. Anderson, for instance, has been grateful for many of Miss Jade’s suggestions, as he is sometimes slower to notice certain matters concerning the students. Miss Jade’s solutions have often filled those gaps swiftly.”
He continued. “Thus, we intend to establish a new practice: to bring in a new class teacher and two assistant teachers each year alongside Mr. Anderson, our long-term instructor. Miss Arrowot, should you accept this apprenticeship, you will take over Miss Jade’s position upon her departure and, in turn, train the next teacher who succeeds you, just as Miss Jade will train you.”
Both Jade and Miss Arrowot nodded in understanding.
“In addition, we implement a one-month trial period. During this time, Miss Jade and I will assess your performance before confirming your position,” He gestured toward the contract, where the criteria were clearly outlined. His gaze lingered on Miss Arrowot, observing whether she might object to such terms. “You must understand, Miss Arrowot, that a ragged school presents many unforeseen challenges. Mental resilience is essential, as is the ability to endure conditions that those from more comfortable households may find lacking. This trial period will allow both you and us to determine whether you are suited to the role.”
“Yes, Father, I understand your concerns,” Miss Arrowot replied. “As the daughter of a Knight whose household was brought to ruin by an unscrupulous brother, I have endured hardship. I believe I am prepared for such challenges. Though I may not be as inventive as Miss Jade, I am confident I can serve the school well as a teacher.”
“Very good,” Father Rochester said with a nod. He retrieved the signed contract, then turned to Jade. “Miss Jade, please show Miss Arrowot to her room and begin her orientation.”
“Yes, Father,” Jade rose and led the way.
The new intern teacher brought little luggage. Jade helped her settle into a room close to hers, one she and Sister Lucy had prepared the previous day.
“This is your room, and here is your key,” Jade said, handing it over. “There are only two copies – one with you, and one kept by Father Rochester. If you lose it, you’ll need to inform Father so he can have another made or replace the lock.”
As the blonde lady nodded, Jade added with a smile, “You must be tired. Would you like to rest first? It’s nearly dinner time – or I can take you to the dining hall”
“Please take me to the dining hall,” Miss Arrowot said. Her smile was polite, her freckles soft against her fair skin, and her thick braided hair was coiled nearly into a bun, tied with ribbons – the sort Jade considered tedious, choosing instead to use a long stick to secure her own hair. “I would like to learn more before I rest.”
“Alright then. I’ll fetch you the guidebook after dinner,” Jade said. “You can read it and rest anywhere in the domus today. We’ll begin our first day tomorrow. Just… don’t be surprised by the guidebook.”
What had once been a simple set of notes had grown into something closer to an inch thick, far beyond what Jade had ever intended.
As she cheerfully showed the domus to the new teacher, Jade didn’t notice the look Miss Arrowot cast her way. It was the gaze of someone observing – studying – the renowned Miss Jade of the iron oven project.