by Sandra Hume and Erin Blakemore

Sandra: Sigh. Literaries.

Erin: The chapter title does not bode well, folks. One would almost think that Ma had got a hold of a Dickens serial or an edifying work of Mr. Bulwer-Lytton. No such luck. Instead, we look upon a sigh-worthy vista indeed…a winter with…wait for it…no snow.

Sandra: We’re slouching towards Christmas, and it’s the opposite of last winter. No snow. Zilch. Nada.

Erin: Irony alert! But guaranteed to make a teenage girl without a lunatic fringe to comfort her a trifle…antsy.

Sandra: Bleak is the word. Rows of samey samey days. Laura’s not even looking forward to getting the stealth Christmas present book of poems. But it’s Friday night! And Laura has had it! She slams her book on the table. OMG, a real teenager!

Erin: In brilliant contrast to the grown-too-soon girl we witnessed twisting hay last year around this time.

Sandra: I love the term “wooden swearing.” Remember Pa’s “Well I would swear, if I did”?

Erin: I think of this term at least three times a week when catching myself before cursing in public. Crafty of Ma to point out that it’s the thought that counts

Sandra: But Pa’s the soother, especially for Daddy’s girl. And then Ma gives in (sorta) and says OK, we’ll stop studying, and Laura can read a story in one of the Youth’s Companions.

Erin: As if this embarrassment of riches weren’t enough, Pa swoops in like a hero. Looks like the Ingallses aren’t the only ones with cabin fever!

Sandra: What do you think he said to the men around the stove at Fuller’s? “Gosh dang, my angsty teenager sure is driving us crazy tonight. Any ideas for getting her out of the house?”

Erin: He had only to mention the wooden cursing and they organized in a jiffy!  Goshdarnit.

Sandra: They all walk with their lanterns to the school. For some reason I really like picturing this. A band of lighted families down Main Street, just looking for fun on a Friday night. And EVERYONE’S going. Fuller even closed his store! Heck, everyone closed their store. Par-tay in De Smet. Oh, wait. Not so fast. Clewett bums everyone out by trying to have an election.

Erin: Easy to forget that parliamentary procedure was all some gentrified folks had to cling to, back in the day. What do you say?  Pa objects?

Sandra: Pa speaks in favor of casual Fridays. Who needs officers? Go Pa! But shoot … there’s no agenda. I love how “the barber” suggests singing. I’ve never noticed the barber before.

Erin: Singing school foreshadowing!

Sandra: Oooooo. Decision made, and teams are picked for a spelling match. Pa (of course) and Gerald Fuller are captains. Why didn’t we pick teams at LauraPalooza?

Erin: Don’t worry. I still would have won.

Sandra: There’s a tense few minutes when the scene of every elementary kickball game is played out in the schoolhouse. Pa picks Laura before an adult – Mr. Foster. This will prove prophetic. Dumb Mr. Foster. Scared the antelope away. Almost made Almanzo lose Lady.

Erin: Yes, our girl Laura knows how to hold a grudge.

Sandra: First guy to go down is an adult: Mr. Barclay spells “hero” “heroe.” Sorry, Dan Quayle! Excitement grows. Toes on a crack in the floor, hands behind backs. The lines grow shorter on each side, first one team, then the other. Close game.

Erin: As if participating in a real live De Smet-style bee at LauraPalooza wasn’t enough, the experience of standing inside the actual schoolhouse in De Smet was electrifying when I visited last summer. I’ll admit, I looked at every crack in the floor and thought of the room packed with people, all livened up and excited at the simple thrill of competition among neighbors.

Sandra: I came in third.

Erin: It’s spellin’ time. The little kids fall quickly to the wayside, as do the more backwards attendees. Laura and Ma (differentiation, repetitious) hold their own.  Foster busts it out, prairie style, lording his momosaceosity (sp?) over Ma AND Miss Garland.  Jiminy Christmas!

Sandra: Anyone else think it’s a BIT over the top to have Pa and Laura the last folks left on his team?

Erin: Then again, if Laura’s going to be a schoolteacher, shouldn’t she be able to get to the back of the speller?

Sandra: Good point. But I guess her grip on her mental view of the last speller page is not so firm. Darn “xanthophyll”! And then it gets Foster. But not Pa. Thunderous applause for the winner!

Erin: Ah, I am reminded of my own winning streak at LauraPalooza. The pregnant pause…the last word, “heinous.” The sweet smell of victory and a LIW sweatshirt I cherish to this day. Oh, what?  We’re still going? Um…oh, that Pa. The town’s celebration sends a chill through the tips of everyone’s BEARDS and down to their BONES. Whooops…foreshadowing.

Sandra: What kind of guy can spell down the whole town? A heroe.

Erin: *snort*

Sandra: I came in third.

Erin: Heinous.

Guest post by Amanda Morris

This chapter begins with a visit from Mary Power, informing Laura that the Ladies’ Aid Society is giving a dime sociable and asking if she can attend. Laura does not know what a dime sociable is, but she does not want to ask Mary what it is. She feels somewhat behind the times compared to her more sophisticated friend. Apparently Ma is in the same boat because she was not even aware that a Ladies’ Aid Society had been formed. This might have something to do with the fact that Rev. Alden is not the preacher and so Ma and Pa are slightly less than enthusiastic about the church right now. (Side note: I recently learned that Rev. Alden attended Dartmouth College, my alma mater! Go Green!)

Laura is granted permission to attend, along with Mary Power, but Minnie, Ida and Nellie cannot attend because it costs a dime. This is a very clear illustration of the change in the Ingalls family’s circumstances. Laura can now afford luxuries that her friends cannot take part in. When the day finally arrives, Laura gets ready and is dissatisfied with her appearance. She asks Ma if she can cut bangs like Mary Power’s. Ma is reluctant, calling Mary’s hairstyle a “lunatic fringe.” I have always thought this sounds kind of harsh, although maybe the connotation was different. Then again, when I first read this bangs were quite the thing… The illustration shows Laura snipping away at her bangs, and they seem pretty standard. At last, Laura turns to show Ma the finished product:

“It looks quite nice,” Ma admitted. “Still, I liked it better before it was cut.”

OUCH! Maybe I was just a delicate little flower as a teenager, but I think that I would have cried if my mom said that to me about a haircut, especially right before I went out to an event I was nervous about. Pa and Carrie soften the blow somewhat, and then there is nothing more to do but wait for Mary Power.

Once Mary arrives, they head to Mrs. Tinkham’s house. They are welcomed inside, leave their wraps in a small bedroom, and then head to a larger sitting room. It is lavishly furnished and decorated, as the Tinkhams own the town furniture shop. The guest list for this event includes Florence Garland, Mrs. Beardsley, Mrs. Bradley, and Mr. and Mrs. Woodsworth. They are all sitting in awkward silence, or at least Laura feels awkward about the silence. The silence continues until Rev. and Mrs. Brown arrive. Laura is fascinated by Rev. Brown, who is supposedly a cousin of John Brown of Ossawatomie, and Laura thinks there is a resemblance. Her description is not really very flattering, here or in any of the descriptions of him throughout the series. But really, he could not have been ALL bad if he was willing to drop “obey” from wedding vows in the 1880s, right?

Rev. Brown’s arrival breaks the ice for the other guests, but Mary and Laura remain silent. Then Mrs. Tinkham brings out custard and cake. This at least gives them something to do, but once they have finished they are pretty eager to leave. Their relief is palpable.

Pa and Ma are surprised by her early return, and Laura hates to admit that she did not have a good time at the event she had been anticipating for so long. She tells Ma that she should have been the one to go. Ma says that once the people in town are better acquainted, the sociables will become more enjoyable. According to The Advance, church sociables are greatly enjoyed.

While the sociable was not fun, this chapter and the one before do a good job of setting the stage for what is to come. The town is starting to come into its own, with social events and modern trends hitting the stores. But most importantly, for me, the Ingallses are finally reaping the rewards of so many years of hardwork and sacrifice. Just last week I completed a trip to Pepin, Walnut Grove and De Smet, and decided to re-read “On the Banks of Plum Creek” as a result. I just finished the chapter in which Mary and Laura buy a slate, and money is so tight that they are reluctant to ask Pa for even one more penny to buy a slate pencil, opting to spend one of their Christmas pennies from the last Christmas in Kansas. Going from reading that chapter, to reading this one for the read-along, the change in the Ingalls family’s circumstances feels especialy poignant. All the books are ultimately uplifting, but it is nice to see the Ingalls family experience a bit of luxury.

Guest post by Lauri Goforth

If anyone saw the sign-ups, I pretty much begged for this chapter.  We’ve met Laura.  We’ve met Almanzo.  They’ve seen each other, but for the first time in this chapter they have a chance to really speak, and forget blizzards, grasshoppers, etc, we have teenage angst as our main problem.  You have to love it!

It’s now winter, but it hasn’t snowed.  Miss Wilder has left, and a good teacher has taken her place.  The boys have come back to school, chief among them, cute, heroic (remember him, Almanzo and the wheat?) Cap Garland.

The older girls spend recess watching the boys play outside.  Nellie works on her sewing while Laura studies.  She only has a little over a year before she can take the teacher’s exam.  Nellie points out that her family isn’t so poor that they need Nellie to teach.  Mary isn’t around so Laura tells Nellie what she thinks of that remark.  The other girls stand up for her.  Before Nellie can respond, Cap comes in with candy for Mary Power.  How Sweet!  Nellie intercepts and grabs the candy before he can offer it to Mary.  Cap stands helplessly before walking out.  The next day, Nellie keeps him with her for the rest of recess when he tries to bring candy.  Laura wonders how Cap can look helpless and pleased at the same time.  Let’s recap – Cap probably thinks Mary won’t reject the candy or him and Nellie’ throwing herself at him.  I would think a fifteen year old boy might enjoy having two girls interested in him.

The other girls fill their time with signing each other’s autograph books that Nellie sneers are out of date.  She has name cards! – whatever they are.  The next day, Mary and Minnie are waiting for Laura.  They found out and believe that Nellie is ordering hers from the printer.  They cost 25 cents a dozen.  Laura knows she could never ask her parents to waste that much money.  At recess, Laura grabs the candy from Cap and gives it to Mary before Nellie can grab it.  Everyone is stunned, and Cap flashes a grateful look at Laura.  (I wonder if Laura doesn’t wish the cute boy bearing candy was bringing it to her)  Nellie says she’s not interested she just wanted him to put a good word into Almanzo, with the great horses.  Laura wishes to ride behind the horses but knows that Miss Wilder has to have made sure it will never happen.  I think Laura must have laughed as she wrote this.

Mary brings her name cards, as does Nellie.  She passes them out except Nellie says she can trade cards because it isn’t proper otherwise.  Because taking candy meant for someone else is proper, Nellie?  Ida just looks because she’s an adopted child who can’t ask for things and must hurry home to clean the house.  I know in The Ruralist Laura tells how Mrs. Brown was writing articles to buy Ida a new coat, but in the book series she doesn’t seem to ever gentle her description of the Browns.  Teenage Laura wishes she could be that good, but still wants a set of name cards.

At the printer, Laura and Minnie see Nellie’s card amongst the choices, proof that they must not have come from the East.  There’s a card that says Love with two birds and a bird’s nest.  Mr. Hopper says it’s a young man’s card.  Would 1880’s men really hand out a card like that?  It sounds to me more like a new bride’s card.  Eventually, they pick a card and Laura hurries home to find supper on the table.  She explains what they are and the price.  Later she’s staring at the wall thinking about the War of 1812.  (This could be why radio was invented, there’s only so long one can stare at the wall thinking of 75 year old wars before they get bored.)  Pa asks her if she wants some cards.  Laura hesitates and shows how she’s growing up because she knows they need the money.  Laura goes to bed regretting that she wants the cards but very happy that she’ll be on equal footing with her friends.  I think it shows that no matter 1881, 1991, or 2011 some things are just natural to a fourteen year-old girl.

When she picks up the cards, she’s running late.  but, But, BUT!  The Morgan horses stop next to her and Almanzo offers her a ride the (long?) two blocks to school.  She accepts.  Little girls (and women) around the world squeal!  Laura is unsure what to say, she introduces herself.  Almanzo says that his sister told him about her.  Inquiring minds want to know what she told him, because I’m guessing it wasn’t “You should spend time with her.”  Laura changes the subject to name cards.  Almanzo has one in his pocket to show Laura.  She tries to think up a compliment on his name but fails.  She doesn’t know if he means her to keep it or not.  I know that he, of course, meant her to keep it, but I know fourteen year old girls would have a couple dozen different questions bouncing around inside their head.  She gives him one of hers, and then they are at the school.  He tries to help her down, but she jumps down too nervous to let him help her, but she does notice his dark hair and deep blue eyes

The school bell is ringing, and we just have time to hear about the look on Nellie’s face when Laura and Almanzo drove up.

I think I may have been long winded in describing my favorite chapter as the description may be longer than the actual chapter!

Guest post by Annika

Laura thought that Nellie Oleson looked disappointed when she and Carrie came into the schoolhouse the next morning. Nellie might have expected that they would not come back to school.

“You wouldn’t let her meanness keep you away from school, would you Laura?” Ida said.
“I wouldn’t let anything keep me from getting an education,” Laura replied.
“Oh, I’m glad you’ve come back!” Mary Power said, and Ida gave Laura’s arm a warm little squeeze.

This is a chapter in which Laura Learns A Lesson, but although it is a bit heavy-handed (beginning with the opening quote above and going pretty much straight into a bible reference) it also takes its time and is a good lesson.

Angry at Miss Wilder’s unfairness, Laura stands by while the other students misbehave, focusing on her own studies at first but eventually letting those slide as well. The little boys make trouble: Charley sits on a pin and is made to stand in the corner; Clarence runs up the aisle on all fours, and Laura is reprimanded for smiling at him. Worried, she and Carrie tell Pa that the school is in disorder, and he tells them to behave themselves.

Nellie tells the other girls that Miss Wilder’s name is Eliza Jane. They don’t understand why she hates it, and Nellie explains that she once got lice and her schoolmates called her “Lazy, Lousy, Lizy Jane.” The other girls agree that Nellie is two-faced, and they won’t share their secrets with her.

Eventually, unable to ignore the chaos in the classroom, the big girls get in on the fun. Ida draws a funny caricature of Miss Wilder and writes a rhyming verse to go with it. The verse needs work, and Mary Power gives the slate over to Laura to improve. She writes:

Going to school is lots of fun,
From laughing we have gained a ton,
We laugh until we have a pain,
At Lazy, Lousy, Lizy Jane.

(Which, if you ask me, is still not very good.)

The little boys get hold of it, memorize the rhyme, and begin to chant it. Ida’s slate has been wiped clean, and the big girls agree never to tell who wrote it—though Laura, always a good girl (as good as Mary, even if she doesn’t believe it) says she will tell Pa or Ma if they ask her outright. Laura wrestles with guilt, both about the verse and about the chaos in school, for which she blames herself. She wishes she could come clean to Pa, but she is so angry at Miss Wilder that she can’t bring herself to.

Finally, Pa and the other members of the school board visit the school. The class is so unruly that their knock at the outer door cannot be heard. Miss Wilder immediately tells the board that Laura Ingalls is the primary troublemaker, bragging that she runs the school because Pa is on the school board. Pa shakes his head at Laura when she raises her hand to respond, and tells the students and Miss Wilder that the school board stands with the teacher. “We want a good school, and we are going to have it.” All of the students are quiet after their visit, and at home Laura is quiet until Pa speaks to her.

Much to her surprise, he does not ask if it’s true that Laura said she thinks she can run the school, but instead asks what Laura might have said that made her think that. Instead of defending herself, Laura has to think hard, and realizes that Nellie must have misrepresented something Laura said to her in a fight. She recounts the argument in which she called Nellie a “country girl.”

Ma is distressed that Laura is so unforgiving of Nellie, years after Nellie was so mean in Plum Creek. She asks for Laura’s autograph album and writes:

If wisdom’s ways you wisely seek,
Five things observe with care,
To whom you speak,
Of whom you speak,
And how, and when, and where.

The chapter ends there. As I said, Laura Learns A Lesson! I appreciate this chapter not just for the chance to see kids acting like kids (the Ingalls girls are all SO GOOD) but also because Laura’s flaws are right out there, making her seem so very real. The “Little House” Laura may be fiction, but she’s about as real as fiction gets.

Guest post by Melanie Stringer

Sent Home from School has always been a stand-out chapter for me.  Even when reading it as a child and teenager, I found it a noticeable departure from the usual depiction of  Laura’s harmonious obedience and diligent effort in every task or obligation.  It was almost difficult to imagine this was the same Laura Ingalls, and were it not for the re-introduction of the antagonist Nellie Oleson, bolstered by a new and more influential partner-in-crime in the character of Eliza Jane Wilder, it would have been hard, back then, to believe Laura was capable of openly participating in this kind of conflict and rebellion. Reading it as an adult, the conflict speaks volumes to the intertwined relationships of Laura, Eliza Jane, Carrie, and even Rose.

Interesting because it represents the initial conflict between a pre-courtship Laura and “Teacher” Miss Wilder, who one day will be sisters-in-law “Bessie” and “EJ,” this chapter is rife with implications about power, subordination, obedience, leadership, justice, loyalty, and even a bit of the evils of gossip.  In many ways, this episode seems to reflect more of Laura and EJ’s distaste for each other as fully mature adults, which prompts me to wonder how much of this scene is literal—that is, a reasonably accurate account of particular incidents—and how much of it is actually a metaphorical device for Laura “Mama Bess” vs. Eliza Jane “Aunt EJ” regarding Rose?  Throughout the chapter, indeed, in much of the book, Laura is in protective, Mother-Hen mode regarding a “still pale and spindly, and always tired” Carrie.  Laura’s sense of justice, and her concern for Carrie’s health, put her in a defensive position which quickly escalates to full-scale rebellion.  Miss Wilder’s child-like insistence on being the students’ “friend” is contrasted sharply with her sudden switch to provocative, inequitable punishment for selected students—namely by singling out the vulnerable Carrie.  Is it too far “out there” to think of Carrie as a metaphorical and literary stand-in for Rose?  Mama Bess was notoriously protective of her only child, but perhaps she felt she had solid reasons for it.  She may have perceived numerous threats to this daughter who (aside, of course, from Manly) was one of the few constants in a life riddled with loss and uncertainty.  Defending one’s family in the face of all adversity is hardly unusual, and the value of family loyalty is undeniably a constant throughout Wilder’s work, so it seems at least plausible to put a little psychological twist to this otherwise straightforward episode of Sent Home From School.

That being said, it is hard to imagine that a fictionalized Miss Wilder could be unaware that Laura would rise in defense of her sister.  Rather, as the story is presented, it is assumed that Miss Wilder singles out Carrie particularly because she wishes to provoke Laura.  This behavior creates a power struggle which she seems determined to win—or perhaps simply does not know how to de-escalate. The power struggle is a classic and almost inevitable problem in every position of authority, from teachers or parents to employers and even heads of state.  Just about every person who assumes a leadership role will be faced with a conflict—sometimes an inadvertent creation of the leader’s own making—that is largely a power struggle between subordinate and authority.  When the pride of one or both parties is left unchecked, the situation can escalate almost to the point of chaos.  This what comes about on the second day of open conflict in class, when Carrie and Mamie are once again “causing trouble” and Laura decides to intervene.

The chapter sets Laura and Eliza Jane against each other in an adversarial relationship, ignited by the initial conflict over Miss Wilder’s unjust punishment of Carrie. We have already seen that Laura has a keen sense of justice.  At the Fourth of July races she is convinced Almanzo can’t win because he has a heavy wagon instead of a light buggy, and her reaction is straight to the point:  “Oh! It isn’t fair!”  Now, Laura’s sense of justice is deeply offended as Miss Wilder metes out unequal punishment to Carrie and Mamie for their failure to learn their spelling words.  When Carrie, dutifully performing her punishment of writing the misspelled words fifty times each on the blackboard, starts to look sickly and faint, Laura insists she must be relieved.  A startled Miss Wilder allows Carrie to sit, but takes the interruption as an affront to her authority and directs Laura to continue the punishment in Carrie’s stead.  Laura’s protective instinct in defense of Carrie is strong, and, though mortified, she remains compliant.

Although “it was a disgrace to her,” and “she felt her face grow flaming hot,” Laura feels some comfort when she quickly realizes “no one was jeering at her.”  When one of the boys, Charley, tries to get her to protest and says, “we’ll all stand by you!” she is “warmed all through” but refuses to add to the disruption.  After school, Charley, Clarence and Alfred seem determined to “fix that old meanie tomorrow,” but Laura begs them not to stir up any more trouble.  She even shames them for the suggestion:  “That is no way for you boys to treat a woman, even if you don’t like her.  I do wish you wouldn’t.”  Her sense of propriety, coupled with her fear of trouble in school and the possible loss of education, all demand that she do what she can to keep the peace.

The next day, Laura and Carrie return to school early, and before they can even take their seats, Miss Wilder seems ready to challenge Laura once again.  Upon snagging her skirt on the coal hod, Laura makes a mild exclamation, to which Miss Wilder taunts: “Why don’t you get us a new coal hod, since your father is on the school board and you can have everything as you want it?”  In disbelief, Laura protests the accusation and points out Miss Wilder likely could have a new one if she wanted.  Miss Wilder’s snarky “Oh, thank you,” has her puzzled, but she does not pursue the issue.  Laura does, however, notice Nellie’s silent reaction, which seems to confirm that Nellie is behind Miss Wilder’s negative impression of Laura.  Interestingly, even to this point, Laura is intent on behaving, and sympathizes with Miss Wilder: although the boys keep their promise to Laura, “they did not know their lessons, for they would not study, and Miss Wilder was so harassed that Laura pitied her.”

The pitying would be short-lived.  After the nooning, what starts out as a minor distraction quickly escalates.  Carrie and Mamie are studying the speller, both silently rocking back and forth on their bench.  Miss Wilder strangely chooses this distraction above those which are causing any actual noise as an object lesson to the entire class.  She demands Carrie and Mamie put away their books and “just rock that seat!” Miss Wilder’s manner of address is volatile and inexplicably mutable as she then decrees, “sweetly,” to the entire class, “Hereafter anyone who disturbs us may continue the disturbance until he or she is thoroughly tired of making it.”  Laura sees Carrie’s shock and shame, but does not protest—yet.

The power struggle is impending; it will now become the focus of the chapter.  The worst of the tension, dread, and conflict is about to come, and the reader is keenly aware that the scene is far from over.  The sense of dread in this chapter is overwhelming, and this is one of those moments where Laura the author’s talent is about to leap off the page.  The tension hangs in the air and is almost tangible.  The conflict is about to reach an emotional crescendo.  Laura is still trying to be the diligent, obedient scholar, when she is distracted by Mamie’s own rebellion as the little girl: “gave a little toss of her head and boldly moved across the aisle into another seat.” Try as she might, Carrie cannot continue rocking without Mamie, and once again Miss Wilder inexplicably excuses Mamie’s action while insisting (again, “sweetly”—how nauseating that must have sounded to Laura!) Carrie continue the punishment alone.

The self-control which Carrie and Laura exhibit here is downright flabbergasting.  Laura “bit her lip hard, and sat still.”  She is furious, but still has faith that Teacher will excuse Carrie.  Carrie puts forth all her effort, but cannot continue.  Then the proverbial straw breaks Laura’s back when Miss Wilder says, “Faster, Carrie! Faster!…You wanted to rock the seat.  Now do it.”

The battle royale, the kind of power struggle of which legends are born, has commenced!  Laura can no longer sit idly by; she cannot allow ANYONE to torment Carrie this way.  The scholar who was so intent upon keeping the peace—who felt she must respect the authority of anyone employed by the school board, who wanted to respect anyone who so clearly knew the material and had earned a certificate even if that teacher did have an unconventional or “silly” approach to discipline—was no longer puzzled by the Teacher’s snide remarks and unjust methods.  Rather, she was infuriated!  Laura’s sense of justice was no longer the only emotion offended by Miss Wilder.  This was an out-and-out attack on a beloved little sister, a frail, sickly, timid little sister who never did any harm to anyone!  This, to paraphrase Jane Austen, Could Not, WOULD NOT, be borne!  Laura’s protective nature kicks into high gear, and the squawking Mother Hen inside the young girl rages forth, with all the fury of anyone whose dearest loved one is threatened: “Miss Wilder, if you want that seat rocked faster, I’ll rock it for you!”

The “Thump, THUMP!” of Laura’s aggressive rocking makes a statement that escapes no one.  “No one could study now…No one could recite, no one could even be heard.” The entire class is spellbound, and Miss Wilder is at a loss.  Little did she think (though the reader may feel, “how could she NOT know this would happen??”) that young Laura Ingalls would really, truly, stand up to her.  Laura, being so wrapped in her anger and indignation, must, at least momentarily, be oblivious to the consequences of her unprecedented behavior upon her relationship with the sister whom she is so valiantly trying to defend.  I wonder, though, what exactly was Carrie thinking?  I am inclined to believe this outburst must have terrified her.  If we are to believe that at least the fictional Ingalls family is generally harmonious and loving, and rarely argues, would not this violent reaction be so unusual that it may indeed be the very first time Carrie has seen any member of her family so angry?

Laura, for her part, may have been stewing a long time.  As a blossoming young woman, charged with being the “eyes” for Mary, a part-time breadwinner with aspirations to earning a teaching certificate, and having taken the place of Big Sister to the younger girls,  this fourteen-year-old is under a lot of pressure.  Add to that the usual challenges of being a teenager (drat those nasty restrictive corsets!!), and we have a recipe for rebellion.  She feels her anger surge so strongly that “not even the swinging weight eased Laura’s fury.”  Miss Wilder may simply have underestimated her adversary, and now the only recourse is to take out one of the last weapons in the arsenal:  Send them home!

Everyone had heard of being sent home from school. No one there had seen it done before.  It was a punishment worse than whipping with a whip. Only one punishment was more dreadful; that was to be expelled from school.

When Laura and Carrie are sent home, the walk is a moment of assessment and reflection before facing the ultimate Judge and Jury of Ma and Pa.  Their reactions are not to be presumed nor predicted; surely they have good reason to be severely disappointed and to hand down punishment more disgraceful than any which Miss Wilder might invent.  Taking all the blame for the incident, Laura reassures Carrie that the fault lies solely with herself for defending Carrie:  “They won’t blame you, this isn’t your fault.  It’s my fault because I rocked that seat so hard.  I’m glad of it! I’d do it again!”  And here, one of the wisest lines in all the series strikes the reader with its simple truth:  “Carrie did not care whose fault it was.  There is no comfort anywhere for anyone who dreads to go home.”

Finally the moment of truth arrives, and the almost benign reception the girls receive upon arriving home is not only unexpected, but actually justifies to some degree Laura’s behavior:  “Is Carrie sick?”  A ha! Justice!  A shamed Carrie tries to take the blame, but  Laura explains fully the events of the day as Ma and Pa patiently listen, and it is simply decided the girls will “go on as though none of this had happened.”  But will such a thing be possible?  The reader simply must turn the page to find out what happens next…

*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*

Melanie Stringer is a New England-based historian who presents living history programs in the first person as author Laura Ingalls Wilder, as interpreted within the context of  Wilder’s experiences during the period 1890-1895.
Her website is www.meetlauraingallswilder.com and she blogs at www.blogspot.meetlauraingallswilder.com