Excerpt: By Any Other Name

Maybel Mooney always sat in the front center of the room, right in front of the teacher. She always had her books spread open before her, and her pen safely cuddled in her small, freckled hand. Her eyes remained fastened on the teacher when he spoke, and fastened on her books when he did not. She was the first to raise her hand to answer a question nearly always, and nearly always the last to complete a test or to finish studying her lessons. This was not, as it may seem to have been, because she was an excellent pupil, or an ardent studier of many things. It was because she was told to do so…really, nearly forced to do so. Alas! Maybel was a daydreamer. She had chosen to sit beside the window during her first year of school, and she had nearly failed every subject. However, she could tell you everything you ever wanted to know about the shades of green in the trees, the family of blue jays that nestled in the eaves of the school, or the time when the young principal of the school scorched his nose while trying to light his pipe because he was too busy watching one of the lady teachers help one of the slower students learn to read. Maybel could never remember a single thing that was different between the poetry of Wordsworth and the sonnets of Shakespeare, but she could tell you anything you needed to know about the verse and music of everyday life. Maybel was not book-smart: Maybel was life-smart.