Ellie's Obsession

Diana Monroe tried to make herself comfortable in a chair meant for an eight-year old as she settled in for what she knew was going to be a well-meant lecture from a woman ten years her junior. The only adult chair in the room was occupied by her daughter’s second-grade teacher, Ms. Lovell, whose abnormally pink lips pressed tightly together and whose brown eyes observed Diana with a look that said I’m surprised you look so normal. 

Ms. Lovell was, as her name might suggest, a lovely woman, even tempered and patient, and a seemingly perfect second-grade teacher. She was a young woman who loved her job and adored all of her students, that is, if the child was considered “normal” by societal conventions. Mrs. Monroe’s daughter did not fall into that category. 

“Good afternoon. How are you,” Ms. Lovell asked. 

“Fine,” Diana murmured. It was clearly a peasantry rather than a genuine inquiry. 

“I am happy to hear that,” Ms. Lovell replied, rather less than happily. “I have asked you to come in for a conference because I have some concerns about your daughter.”

Ms. Lovell paused, expecting Mrs. Monroe to jump in with some sort of excuse or explanation, but she remained silent. If Ms. Lovell had a problem with Ellie, she would have to articulate it. 

“Ellie has been doing some… unusual things since the start of the school year. She insists on being called “Helen” because it is, in her words, a proper 14th century name. She uses thee, and thy, and thou when she speaks and in writing assignments, even though I correct her often and it causes her to lose points. And her drawings… They are very different from her classmates’. Here are some examples.”

Ms. Lovell pulled several papers from her desk and handed them to Diana, looking at the drawings as one might look after swallowing a mouthful of soured milk or seeing an animal that had been hit by a car. It was certainly not how one ought to look at a masterful piece of art such as the ones Diana held in her hands. 

The scenes that Ellie had chosen to depict in her drawings resembled ones you might find in a 14th century illuminated manuscript: detailed and colorful illustrations of battles, kings and farmers, afflicted peasants, and of course, gruesome images of the black death. Ellie was a truly talented artist. Mrs. Monroe held back a smile; she knew Ms. Lovell would not be pleased by such a response. She looked around the classroom at the walls covered in drawings, art projects, and inspirational posters where none of Ellie's work was displayed. There were numerous stick figure families, suns wearing sunglasses, and vague resemblances of animals, but none were nearly as detailed or historically accurate. 

Ms. Lovell, clearly uncomfortable with Diana’s silence, went on. “And, last week, she wore a plague doctor mask and a black cape to school. Headwear is prohibited, as are costumes on any day other than our special Halloween dress-up day, so I made her take them off. But then, after school, some of her classmates complained that she put the mask back on and chased them around. I felt the need to notify you of her behavior. I feel it’s getting out of hand.” 

Diana choked on a chuckle, though she should have been stern. Ellie must have taken the mask and cloak from her father’s costume stash. Mr. Monroe was a costume designer for a local theater and had a variety of odd articles of clothing. Diana would have to get onto her daughter about stealing things from his stash, but that was the only concerning part of Ms. Lovell’s speech. 

“Ms. Lovell, I fail to see why you have called me in today. Does this school prohibit nicknames and creativity?” 

“Do we.. Um, no,” Ms. Lovell sputtered. 

“I don’t see anything inappropriate in her drawings. I think they are quite educational, in fact. So why are they not up on the walls with the other students’ art,” Diana went on.

“Some students may consider them frightening. Look at this one.” The school-teacher gestured to one with a plague doctor standing next to a woman lying in bed.

“I don’t see anything frightening about that. Do second-graders learn history?”

Ms. Lovell nodded.

“Then I don’t see why they can’t learn about the black death of 1348. Ellie knows a lot of facts I’m sure she would be willing to share,” Diana said matter-of-factly. “As for her pattern of speech, does she use thee, thou, and thy correctly?”

“I… I think so.”

“Then why correct her?” 

Ms. Lovell’s stature slumped ever-so-slightly in defeat. She knew this was a losing battle. “I have heard the other kids make fun of her for it.” 

“Then I believe you should be conferencing with those kid’s parents. It is never acceptable to make fun of your peers. I have made sure Ellie knows that. I will talk to her about the plague doctor mask, but from what you said, she was obedient when instructed to take it off during school, so I don’t see what the problem is. How kids play on their own time is up to them. Is there anything else I should know about?”

Ms. Lovell shook her head. “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Monroe,” she said in monotone. Diana could tell there was more she wanted to say, but she had the sense to let the conversation end there. The teacher was out of her league, though she didn’t know why. 

Mrs. Monroe was actually Dr. Monroe, professor of 14th century studies at a nearby university. Though the Monroe’s had tried to give their daughter a “normal” childhood, Ellie had grown up with 14th century literature as bedtime stories and the handsomest handmade 14th century costumes for Halloween. She had been Queen Phillipa of Hainault at age 6, a plague doctor at age 7, and for this year’s costume, Mr. Monroe was working on a child sized set of armor so she could be a knight. 

Even though the Monroe’s weren’t a “normal” family, Ellie was happy, content, and well beyond her peers in artistic talent, it seemed. Who gave Ms. Lovell to suggest there was something wrong with her?

Diana pried herself from the tiny chair and picked up Ellie’s drawings from Ms. Lovell’s desk. “May I have these?” Ms. Lovell nodded. “I’m going to hang these on our refrigerator at home. I know Ellie will like that. It’s good to validate children’s interests, even if they seem strange at first.”

Ms. Lovell nodded again and forced a smile. “Of course.”

Diana strode to the door, but stopped just before leaving the classroom. There was a tape dispenser on a cart next to the door, which she took a piece from and taped the picture of the plague doctor and his patient prominently onto the wall. 

“There,” she said, looking back at the teacher, “perfect.” 

Ms. Lovell didn’t dare take it down.