11

One evening in early spring, there was a meeting of the Notre Dame de Fatima school board around the kitchen table at the LaGrange household. Monsieur le Curé was there with four other men. They were talking with Papa about the new school. And they sounded angry.

Sophie was supposed to be practising the piano, but she had crept up to the door between the kitchen and the living room and was listening. She wasn’t really spying. After all, they were talking about her school.

“This is an emergency! The taxes the government is asking us to pay are too much!” Monsieur le Curé said. “We can’t afford it. Everyone in the parish has given as much money as they can. If we pay this tax bill, we won’t be able to pay our teachers or buy books for the children. It’s crazy!” He thumped his fist on the table, and the teacups jumped and rattled in their saucers.

“What we should do is go on strike,” one of the men said. “Just close the school doors and refuse to educate the children.”

“Strike?” Papa said. “How would a school strike help us?”

“It helped us down at the mill,” one of the other men said. “We have much better working conditions now than we used to, and better pay, as well.”

“If we went on strike, all our children would have to go to the public schools,” the first man said. “The schools would be forced to accept our children. Then the classrooms would be so overcrowded that all the teachers and parents would complain and the government would have to back down.”

“But what about our children?” Papa asked. “I wouldn’t like Sophie to miss school. Her education is important.”

“It would only be a couple of days,” one of the men said. “I’m sure those government officials would soon come to their senses.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Papa said, shaking his head. “Why would the government care if the classrooms were overcrowded? In the end it’s our children who would suffer. I’ve seen how a strike can pull a community apart. In Quebec the situation with the unions was terrible.”

“But this is different. It’s just a school, not a mill or a mine,” Monsieur le Curé said. “I’m certain this would be our best course of action. So let’s take a vote. All in favour of the strike, raise your hand.”

Everyone around the table, except Papa, raised his hand. He sat there, still shaking his head.

“Right,” Monsieur le Curé said, clapping his hands. “Friday next week will be strike day. That will give us a chance to get organized. First thing in the morning, we’ll have a grand parade with a band and everything. The teachers will lead the students from the school grounds, through the streets, and we’ll all march to the town hall to present our petition to the authorities.”

Sophie grinned to herself. A holiday from school and a parade! Now that sounded exciting. But later that evening she overheard Papa talking to Maman in the living room.

“I don’t know what they think a strike will accomplish,” he said, frowning. “Do they really think closing the school and going on strike will work? Besides a few complaints from the overworked teachers in the public schools, I’m sure the whole event will hardly even be noticed.”

“If Monsieur le Curé says we should strike,” Maman said, “then we should. It must be the right thing to do. After all, he is the pastor.”

Papa shrugged. “We’ll see.”

Friday arrived, and Sophie was jittery with excitement. It wasn’t every day she got to be in a parade. She wolfed down her cornflakes so fast, they didn’t have a chance to get soggy.

“Lucky duck,” Arthur complained. “You don’t have to go to school today.”

“We do have to go to school,” Sophie said. “Sister Blanche said if we had a musical instrument to bring it for the parade. Could I borrow your harmonica, Arthur?”

“Sorry, Soph. I don’t lend that to anyone.”

As usual Sophie cut through the ravine to get to school. She still wanted to avoid the Alderson Avenue gang, but this time she didn’t even stop for a quick ride on the rope swing. She had to be on time for the strike.

When the school bell rang at nine o’clock, Sophie followed the other students who all gathered expectantly in front of the school steps. It was a cool, cloudy morning, but at least it wasn’t raining.

The students were met by their teachers and told to line up by grade, boys on one side, girls on the other. Everyone was chattering excitedly, so it took a long time for them to get into straight rows and become quiet enough to hear Sister Blanche. Finally she stood on the front steps and raised her hands. When there was complete silence, she spoke.

“Thank you for coming this morning, boys and girls.” She smiled down at them, her pink cheeks glowing. Her class would lead the parade, she told them. And everyone, especially her class, had to be on their very best behaviour and set a good example for the other children.

All the children who hadn’t brought a musical instrument took one from the music box. Sophie chose the triangles. She loved the tinkly sound they made when she struck them with the stick.

Soon they were on their way. Monsieur le Curé was at the head of the parade, the skirt of his long black cassock swishing over the gravel path. Behind him marched five band members: three young men with horns and two drummers who carried big drums strapped to their shoulders.

Sister Blanche followed them with her two long, straggly lines of students. Sophie was the third girl in her line, marching behind Antoinette and Marie Rose, who were best friends. Antoinette was playing a sort of tin whistle, and Marie Rose had chosen a drum.

Sophie wondered where Ronnie was. Maybe he was sick. Imagine missing such an exciting event as being in a parade.

As they marched off the school grounds, they sang “O Canada” in French as loudly as they could. Then they sang and played lots of the old French songs, one after another. It was fun to sing the ones that had lots of verses like “En roulant ma boule roulante.” That was one of Sophie’s family’s favourite songs, so she sang really loud and banged her triangles in time with the beat. She wished her three big brothers were there to harmonize.

When the parade neared Alderson Avenue School, Sophie held her head high, hoping all the kids there would notice her, especially that stuck-up Elizabeth Proctor. How they would have loved to have been in a parade, too!

It was recess time at Alderson Avenue School, and the children were in the playground. As the parade went by, the students all ran to the board fence to watch, jostling for a better view. They pointed and laughed. They seemed to be yelling, as well, but Sophie couldn’t hear what they were saying. She sang her loudest and banged her triangles as hard as she could, but the only sound they made was a little tinkle. She kept her head high and stared straight ahead.

All along Blue Mountain Road people poured out of their houses to gape at the parade. Grandmothers pushing baby buggies stopped to watch, and lots of dogs howled as the marchers passed by.

They paraded down the hill to Brunette Road, past Sam’s Theatre, past Monsieur LeBlanc’s barbershop, across the narrow Bailey bridge, past grocery stores, the bakery, the cafes, and the hotels. Finally they arrived at the town hall.

Monsieur le Curé climbed the broad front steps and made a rousing speech to a few officials who had gathered there. He talked about how hard everyone had worked to build the school, how hard the students had worked to get a good education, and how proud he was of all the teachers and each and every student. Then the priest presented a letter and a petition to the reeve, who was the sort-of mayor of the town. The reeve said he would personally deliver the letter to the government officials in Victoria and hoped they would find a solution quickly.

Monsieur le Curé shook the reeve’s hand and thanked him, and everyone clapped. Then he led the teachers and the students as they sang a rousing “O Canada” in French again. After that he led the parade back up the hill to the school. Sophie was sorry to see that the Alderson Avenue School kids had gone back inside.

The teachers and students all gathered around the front steps of L’école Notre Dame de Fatima in front of Monsieur le Curé.

“Now, boys and girls, and our teachers, of course. Thank you, thank you, one and all,” he said, holding out his hands to them. “You all did a wonderful job today, especially with your singing. You sounded like angels in heaven. It makes me proud to be French Canadian. This afternoon your parents will take you to register at the public school nearest your home. You’ll attend there until our school opens once again. We hope that will be in a few days, but it may be the end of next week at the very latest.”

Sophie gasped. The nearest school to her house was Alderson Avenue School!