Guest post by Leslie Sakaguchi

I apologize in advance, but I have some confessions to make.

Confession the First: There are some bits of Little House that I always thought the series could do without. Prime example: “Springtime.” This is the one chapter in this book that manages to both greatly delight me and, well, bore me to tears as no other chapter in the whole series does. Let me ‘splain.

The good stuff: this chapter starts out with Laura and her best buddies sharing a moment while walking home from school. They speak of the near future, of the end of the school term, and even touch on—ooo!—the topic of hanging out with guys. Totally something most girls could relate to, right? Love it.

Then we meet Uncle Tom, Ma’s brother, who relates news of the family. Coming from a very large family myself, I always loved this part. As a reader and a fan, I really look forward to any chapters that brought back the relatives, as I often wondered about their parallel lives. Plus it’s always fun revisiting past characters. Bonus—later on, he works nicely as a foil to see some of Almanzo’s truly romantic interest in Laura. Love it more!

The end of this chapter has one of my favorite scenes in the entire series. Love the buggy ride, Almanzo’s bit of jealousy, the camaraderie of Laura, Mary, Cap, and Almanzo, the general light-heartedness of the whole scene, and for me, one of the most succinctly descriptive lines of the series: “It was so easy to laugh in the springtime.” But then, this brings me to…

…Confession the Second. In the {mumble-mumble} years that I’ve been reading the Little House books, I have always read “Springtime” in the following order:

1)    Everything up to “Mercy on us!” Ma softly exclaimed. “Do tell us all about it.”

2)    Then maybe—maybe—every 42^nd word until: Laura thought: “All this happened to Uncle Tom while we were living on Plum Creek.”

3)    From that point on through to the end of the chapter.

Yup, NO exaggeration. Prior to this assignment, I only ever read about one-third to one-half of this chapter. Ever. Which now brings me to Confession the Third. When I volunteered to do a read-along chapter, I was reeeeally kinda hoping to not get this one. Which, of course I did. Nuts.

Okay, well, so as not to embarrass myself—more than I already am here, that is—I reread the chapter. I mean, I really, really read it. I read it with an open mind, truly hoping to find a whole new world, maybe some previously-undiscovered nuggets of Laura-lore.

No joy. It was not as interesting as I’d hoped and it still took me three tries to really get through the whole chapter.

Luckily, my attention span has matured more than my writing style, so off to the Internets I go, to see if I can find anything snazzy and true about Uncle Tom’s narrative. And mercy on us! Uncle Tom really did have quite the adventure! Who knew?

Okay, maybe everyone else did, but please don’t judge. Being from the Golden State, I had to take California history in the 4^th grade, South Dakota history was never a curriculum option for me. So, for those who did not have to learn the history South Dakota, here’s the short version: Due to a treaty between the U.S. and the local tribes-peoples, that part of the Dakota territories was originally earmarked as Native American-owned land. However, when General Custer came through that area, gold was found, the news and amount of which was apparently highly exaggerated by a journalist traveling in General Custer’s party. Thus began a great gold rush. Now here’s where it gets a bit interesting. According to History of Dakota Territory, Volume 1, by George Washington Kingsbury, the gold-seeking Gordon-Witcher party—the party with which Uncle Tom Quiner was traveling—actually was one of the first Caucasian, non-military groups to set foot in that region. But they did so illegally and they knew it! Oh myyy!

The only female member of the party, Mrs. Annie D. Tallent, later published a memoir of this expedition in 1899, in which she describes the secrecy with which they carried out their journey preparations and the routes they took in order to best avoid observation by the U.S. military. Naughty Uncle Tom et al!

When I thoroughly read this chapter, initially I agreed with Pa and got all riled-up on behalf of what sounded like horribly unfair treatment of the Gordon-Witcher party. (The soldiers killed the oxen, for cryin’ out loud! Why? Were they rifle-totin’, claim-jumping cattle?!?) Emotionally, I was pacing back and forth in front of the fire and waving my fist along with Pa. Even when Uncle Tom admits, “It was Indian country…Strictly speaking, we had no right there,” I still found myself feeling indignant, much in the same way I did when the Ingalls were forced to leave their house in Kansas. But after doing my research, I realized that 1) the Gordon-Witcher party fully and consensually pre-meditated their illegal journey for sake of the lure of golden riches and 2) once again, the light placed on any wrong-doing member of “Team Laura” in the Little House series was greatly softened. (I know, a whole other topic for a whole other discussion.) Even in his one line of admission, the party’s guilt-level was unclear. I initially construed the situation to be that they did not know they were in Indian Territory until after the Army got there.

Hence, the research and the truth, a truth that on one level made me a little bit sad. See, once more, digging deeper threw another layer of shadow onto the Little House world, MY Little House world. Maybe it’s good that my seven year-old, Laura-idolizing self never got that.

But then I remember that now I am an adult and that adult says, you know what? I get it. The Ingalls/Quiners/Wilders weren’t saints, any more than any of us are. Just like us, they were decent folks just trying to make it in this life, sometimes having to take risks, sometimes having to decide where to draw lines when the actual lines seem to be on the fuzzy side. As an adult, it’s oddly comforting to know that even that epic, pioneer life sometimes wasn’t as black and white and rosy as a primary school-aged girl needs it to be.

I will say that, surprisingly, I got a great deal of pleasure in (finally) reading the description of the journey provided by Uncle Tom. I especially enjoyed his description of the Bad Lands, that “heathenish place” where “those tall things seemed to turn as you went by.” Naturally, I found it very similar to Laura’s style of description, as when she is seeing aloud for Mary, and I found that familiarity delightful as well.

Which brings me back to a great part of my love for the Little House series. I love that it’s a fact-based narrative, and although sometimes fictional is always more enjoyable to read than any old history text or even other published narratives. (My apologies to Mr. Kingsbury and Mrs. Tallent.) Thankfully, Laura’s books always manage to draw me back to a time and place about which I am free and able to romanticize away, from the comfort of my 21^st century computer. Yet somehow it still teaches me something new every time. And that is a legacy worth breaking laws—or at least crossing fuzzy lines—for.

Guest post by Melanie Stringer

The one with Ambition!

I have long thought of this chapter, “East or West, Home is Best” as one of my favorite in all of American literature.  Laura’s style is deceptively simple on the surface, but that hardly means she doesn’t have something substantial to offer.  While chapter 7 of The Red Badge of Courage may be the subject of thousands of English majors’ literary analysis papers, there is plenty of material in THGY to work with, and as much as I admire Stephen Crane’s masterpiece, I’m still ranking Laura’s right beside him in the top three. Somewhere, Dr. Hinman is gasping as I write this but I insist I have a case.

Of all the vignettes in Laura’s novels, this one chapter is only rivaled by LTOP’s “Sent Home From School” in terms of the sympathetic anticipation which the reader feels.  Stoic little half-grown half-pint Laura has been facing one challenge after another and is all ready for a little respite, when, Oh no!  A composition is due?  Now?  On the first day back to school after boarding in that wretched house for two whole months as she taught her very own first school?  What exactly is a composition anyway?  How does one write a composition when one has no experience writing a composition?  This is serious…though hardly life-threatening.  But Laura is in a tizzy, so it must be really, really, REALLY IMPORTANT that she do it, do it fast, and do it better than any other student or…she will lose her standing as the best student in the class!

Now, I’m willing to bet that most modern readers need to pause for a chuckle here at our favorite, generally obedient and self-sacrificing girl, or, at the very least, will ask, “Why doesn’t she just ask Mr. Owen for an extension?” He already revealed that he knows she’s been teaching for the last two months.  Isn’t that a good enough reason to be missing the assignment? “What’s the big deal?”

Well, yes.  Most of us would do that today, but in Laura’s world, and according to the standards of the time, a person was expected to maintain responsibility for their successes and failures regardless of circumstances.  Or, so we are told.  Immediately I am reminded of Rose’s editing hand, and her politics—nay, Philosophy—as it was by the 1940s might suggest that our favorite heroine is about to encounter another lesson in tenacity, but with a new, single-minded twist.

Communal problems within the family are nothing new to our girl Laura; she has had almost continual experience with them.  But this…well, what can she do?  The reader knows how an Ingalls solves a problem, so at first it seems strange that Laura is panicking. When Pa has no other menfolk around to help to build a house in Kansas, Ma rolls up her sleeves, pins up the skirts, and works like a man alongside her husband to get the job done.  When the problem is achieving a long-term goal, such as “how does the family afford to send Mary to college?” Laura is more than willing to take action, even do a job she doesn’t enjoy, for the greater good of the family.

In fact, this is a lesson all the girls have learned at a very young age.  And even as a very little girl, Laura is never afraid to jump into action (or a dangerously flooded creek) to conquer the situation.  Rather than let her sisters be injured or the house burn, she drags Mary (and Carrie, and the rocking chair) out of the way of an errant burning log. Rather than freeze, she coordinates an effort with Mary to bring the entire woodpile safely inside the house to ward off the storm while Ma and Pa are away.  The job is daunting and getting through the door is difficult with arms full, so even tiny Carrie chimes in with “yes I tan!” to open the door for her big sisters.  This family knows how to pull together in any crisis.

In these cases, Laura did not truly need to assume the entire burden of the situation. Rather, her place has been as a contributing member of the family who will create a solution together. But this…well, what can she do?

Laura is confounded, and momentarily paralyzed.  For the first time, the problem is hers, and hers alone, with no time to seek counsel and very few minutes left to find anything resembling a solution.  The difference lies within Laura’s recognition that SHE is the only one who can affect the outcome in this situation, as it primarily concerns herself.  How will she get through this one unscathed?

Fictional Laura is caught off-guard by an unexpected challenge which, due to her rigid self-imposed standards, threatens to destroy years of diligence in a single afternoon.  She simply cannot conceive of failure.  She would not quit teaching the Brewster school, even with Pa’s permission to do just that.  And she will not give herself permission to fail in her own scholarship.  Laura as an adolescent has created an ideal for herself which seems to be lifted right out of her mother’s playbook…which makes me wonder, have they been reading Emerson in the Little House?

Maintaining fortitude which lives up to the kind of Self-Reliance preached by the Sage of Concord (and possibly Editor Rose) is the apparent goal now. As if inspired by all the great scholars of 19th Century America, Laura, like her beloved-but-difficult-to-please Ma, makes something wonderful out of meager means and a lot of ingenuity.  But when did Laura decide to be this person?  There seems to be little discussion of it, if any.  We have followed Laura’s adventures and missteps through her own eyes, wincing along with her when Ma scolded or Pa counseled her for misbehavior or poor judgment.  Somewhere along the way, she has started to absorb the wisdom of her parents and learn from her mistakes, and has begun to impose her own self-rule, the mark of true maturation.  As Pamela Smith Hill stated, the fictional Laura “can only blossom once,” in the series, so perhaps this chapter is intended to be the internal, psychological equivalent of Laura’s social maturation, wherein her superego begins to really assert itself.

So, after a long and lonely winter term of teaching in her very first school and dreading her time spent boarding at the Brewster house, Teacher Laura gets to trade in her tenuous authority for the much more comfortable and familiar role of Top Student Laura. She is relieved to return to what she now appreciates as the ease of schoolgirl life, and looks forward to continuing her own study in the company of friends. She is joyful at the prospect and her light heart even looks forward to tasks she might ordinarily dislike. Somewhere along the way, the girl who once could have nearly started a riot among the students against Miss Wilder has sailed to the head of the class and she covets–perhaps takes for granted–her position.

Then, during her first day back to school in DeSmet, Laura is horrified to discover (almost too late) that an assignment-a composition on the subject of Ambition-is due after recess. She is suddenly thrown into a panic, assuming her two months’ absence will be no excuse for failing to submit the composition. (I will always wonder how many modern readers immediately think she is foolish for not asking for an extension, or that the teacher is unreasonable to not offer!) She is convinced she will lose her place at the head of the class, and scrambles during the remainder of recess to write something-virtually anything would be better than a grade of zero-and hopes it will not entirely ruin her record.

The reader, of course, should know by this time in the series that no child of Caroline and Charles Ingalls would be at a complete loss for long. In a manner strikingly similar to Ma’s creative cookery with nothing more than blackbirds and flour, or her make-do curtains and lamp-making, Laura manages to summon her every mental resource and lickety-split! she has an idea. Ever thinking on her feet, she scans the room for inspiration and desperately opens the dictionary. In moments, she weaves a few lines together and soon has pulled a composition, however succinct, almost from thin air.

A true perfectionist, Laura presses on and bends the rules a bit by continuing to write even as school is called to order. Dissatisfied, and concerned there was not time enough to look over her work before turning it in, she hopes she has not entirely failed. Her grammar class is called forward, and, sheepishly, Laura offers her scant lines of philosophy colored with a Shakespeare tagline. Emerson (author of Representative Men, which features an essay on Shakespeare) and his Concord pal Bronson Alcott (innovator of modern American education and father to Louisa May) would be SO proud!

Now there is nothing to do but wait for Mr. Owen to scold her. She is certain her work is lacking. She is ashamed at the brevity of the piece and thinks the content may not be sufficient to satisfy the intent of the assignment. As the curious Mr. Owen questions her prior writing experience, she apologizes for her perceived shortcomings, only to discover that her much-admired teacher has nothing but praise for her hastily composed assignment!

Amazingly, the girl who might have starved alongside her entire family, the girl who might have been caught in the midst of a war between settlers and natives in Kansas, the girl who feared for her life just a few days ago while boarding with an dangerously depressed woman wielding a butcher knife, Laura is almost more horrified by the thought of losing her coveted spot at the head of her class in school than she was by any of those very real, and very life-threatening situations.  I can only conclude that Laura has reached that stage of psychological development wherein she has realized that she has the power to create, maintain, and change her own identity, and that her actions will be primary to that end.  Thus, her Ambition in this situation is to maintain that which she has worked hard to achieve, and she has found herself in the uncomfortable situation of having to defend her title at a moment’s notice.  Relying upon herself, and making the best possible use of her proven ability to think on her feet and waste no time, is the only way to succeed.

With one collective sigh of relief, and another job opportunity around the corner, all is once again right in the snug little world of Laura…for now!

Melanie Cynthia Stringer
Historian/Interpreter, Meet Laura Ingalls Wilder
www.meetlauraingallswilder.com

Laura was home. Home! What a wonderful word. What a wonderful feeling! Laura felt better already, knowing that she was home for good and did not have to return to the Brewster’s.

Everything was better, even the chores that she had disliked before she enjoyed today because she was home. When the Saturday jobs were done, Laura looked forward to a visit from Mary Power, for she knew that Mary would want to visit with her! Mary didn’t come though and Laura made up her mind to just go over to see Mary when she heard them.

Sleigh bells.

Not the rich sound of the sleigh bells that Prince and Lady wore, but sleigh bells all the same. And that’s when she saw them. All of her friends and even some that she didn’t know, riding up and down the streets in their cutters and sleighs. They had forgotten Laura. She settled down to her crocheting, all the while listening to the sleigh bells.

Even on Sunday, when Laura had been looking forward to seeing Ida at church, Ida was home sick with a cold. That afternoon, Laura once again heard the sleigh bells ringing and laughter floating on the wind (isn’t that a wonderful sound?). She was feeling very forgotten and could not stop herself from hearing the fun and thinking about being left out.

Laura could hardly bear it, when suddenly she heard the ringing of bells stop right at their door! She ran to open it and there stood Prince and Lady. And Almanzo…with an invitation to go sleigh riding.

And what follows is one of my favorite passages:

“I didn’t know your eyes were so blue,” Almanzo said.

“It’s my white hood,” Laura told him. “I always wore my dark one to Brewster’s.” She gave a gasp, and laughed aloud.

“What’s so funny?” Almanzo asked, smiling.

“It’s a joke on me,” Laura said. “I didn’t intend to go with you anymore but I forgot. Why did you come?”

“I thought maybe you’d change your mind after you watched the crowd go by,” Almanzo answered. Then they laughed together.

And so it begins.

Laura was so happy that she had to sing (I love that too).

Guest post by Lauri Goforth

The chapter starts with Laura deciding not to share with Ma and Pa about Mrs. Brewster and the knife.  She decides that they wouldn’t let her go back and she’d never be able to teach school again.  After all there’s only one more week.  I’m with Ma and Pa – tell them!  Pa’s on the School Board, he could probably pull some strings because risking your life isn’t part of the deal.

Life threatening drama out of the way, we get back to the romance.  Laura thinks Almanzo will be happy to not have the long, cold drives.  Almanzo thinks Laura is more interesting than checkers or the saloon.   This panics Laura into thinking she must be interesting.  He offers her a chance to drive Prince and Lady, but she demurs.  And Spoiler Alert: she’s too little to drive Prince and Lady, but willing to try Barnum.  Interesting choice.  Almanzo then talks about Starlight, our friend from back in Farmer Boy.  Starlight is living out his retirement in Father Wilder’s pasture.  I wonder if that’s true or just a nice tale for the young reader.

The time passes quickly, and we’re <gulp> at the Brewster’s.  Almanzo says he knows that it’s hard on her, but they’ll be going the other way on Friday.  (He leaves out any reference to Laura making him pancakes soon at this time.)

Each day passes, Laura barely sleeps the last night afraid of what could happen during the last night.  Everyone is well behaved the last day.  Laura encourages them to take any chance they have to go to school or to study at home like President Lincoln.  She hands out namecards to each student.  At 10, I may have written Laura’s inscription to Ruby on the back of the namecard I bought in DeSmet.  She’s surprised that they all have gifts for her.  They thank her.  Clarence apologizes for being mean.  I still lean towards Clarence having a little crush on the teacher.

The students leave, and Almanzo picks Laura up.  I love this next quote,

“You won’t get there any faster, pushing,” Almanzo said once, and she laughed aloud to find that she was pushing her feet hard against the cutter’s dashboard.”

It comes to mind as I’m trying to hurry my life towards something.  Or when I was coming home from a two week business trip.  Except now, pressing harder on the floorboard will get the driver home faster, if not safer.

Soon they arrive home, Laura realizes Almanzo said “Goodbye” not “See you on Sunday”.  Of course this must be the last sleigh ride.

…………..or so Laura thinks…………

Guest post by Amanda

Two more weeks!  She only had to make it two more weeks and she could go home for good and never have to live with Mrs. Brewster again!  One day at a time!  She decided to mark the days off one at a time to help make the days go faster.  She studied every evening so she could still keep up with her class in town.

Mrs. Brewster was still just as miserable and Mr. Brewster avoided the house.  It kept getting colder and colder.  Wednesday night she was worried that there would be no school and she would have to stay with Mrs. Brewster and Johnny all day.  However, the blizzard never came.  She trudged through the snow to make a path to get to the school.  ( I cannot imagine this as I myself complain if I have to go start my vehicle in the cold and quickly scrape off the windshield!)

That day school had just gotten started when there was a knock on the door.  It was the superintendent, Mr. Williams!  Laura knew this was a test of her abilities.  She was so nervous she could barely speak normally.  She could also sense that the children were nervous too. (Wow!  This is amazing to me that at 15 she could handle all of this.)  She was so happy that the children were doing their best.  (I think this shows how children respond to someone who truly cares for them, which I feel that Laura genuinely did.)  Poor Laura felt that her discipline would be questioned because one student asked to go to the stove and the other who shared a book with him did not ask, but just went.

When Mr. Williams said that he had to leave Laura asked if he needed to speak to everyone.  When he said yes, she was immediately worried and I am sure she had that sick feeling in her stomach right before you just know something bad is going to happen.  Then he said it:  “Whatever else you do, keep your feet warm.”  Phew!  She had passed the test!