
Lest We Forget - Stories To Remember 48-10-28 01 The Lesson
Loading summary
Narrator
Stories to Remember. Stories of people. Stories of human dignity and decency. Told by some of America's outstanding storytellers. We present children Geraldine Fitzgerald in a Story to Remember the Lesson by Mary Leslie Harrison.
Aniela
My little girl is asleep at last. And I stand beside her bed for just a moment, looking down at her. Tomorrow she goes to school for the very first time. I smooth back her hair. School for the very first time. There is something this moment recalls suddenly. It stands out sharply in my memory. It was on an autumn morning 22 years ago in the mining camp in West Virginia where we lived. Agnela, my sister, who was a year older than I, was getting ready to go to school for the first time. Before daylight we were awake, filled with happiness. And in the kitchen we heard our father talking to our mother.
Piotr
So I'll be late an hour or two. What difference, Melania?
Melania
Then your pay, Piotr. It makes a difference.
Piotr
But our first child's first day in school. I can stay and watch her go.
Melania
No. You must earn and we must say what we can. Someday Agnella will go to higher school and higher still, and fella after. And they will have everything this land.
Aniela
Of America can give, fella. That was I only little then.
Geraldine
Andiella, are you sleeping?
Agnela
No, fella. I have not been asleep for hours.
Melania
Aniela, wake up. This is the day.
Agnela
I'm up already, Mama. Me too, Mama.
Melania
You can stay in bed and sleep some more, fella.
Agnela
No, Mama.
Aniela
I was like my mother even then, wanting and doing. We got up, and while we dressed, the sun came up like gold. The sun was gold. But not the mine camp. Not the bony hills with coal dust on them. Not the cinder dumps between the rows of houses. Not the black mine temple down in the hollow at the entrance to the mine. In the kitchen, Agnela put on the new shoes bought with school grip at the company store.
Agnela
How nice they shine.
Aniela
She put on the muslin petticoat with homemade lace from the old country, but not yet the white communion dress laid out softly on the bed that she would put on last, so it would be starched and spotless as long as possible. Agnela was quiet, thin in her petticoat, like a long legged bird with big eyes, shivering a little in the corner by the cook stove. But I danced up and down.
Agnela
How much longer, Papa? How much longer before Agnella goes to school?
Piotr
Soon. Soon, fella. After I go to the mine, Piotr. All right, Melania. Well, Agnela?
Agnela
Yes, Papa.
Piotr
This is a new day in your life. Yes, Papa, in all our lives. God bless this day. And you, Ayala.
Aniela
And he left for his work down in the mine. Then Aniela was unable to wait any longer, and she put on her white communion dress. And then she stood still while our mother braided her hair. Our mother looked as she did in church, with her head bent over her prayers. And then Agnela, timid but in her new dignity, looked down on me a little.
Agnela
I will go and learn to talk and write English, bella. And then I will teach you. No, I'll go to school myself. No one will teach me before then. But if I teach you before you go. No. I will learn myself.
Melania
Enough. That is not the way to want things. Greedy like magpies. Want them silently with your will. Nothing important is like a game. Everything worth wanting is hard.
Aniela
That was my mother, Melania, a heavy foreign woman from Poland with a dream in her head for her children. We, too, dreamed, Daniela and I. We dreamed in our own way of going to school someday. As if it would be like Christmas. Because then, at last, we would go down the hill with the other children.
Geraldine
Ethan, Timmy, Helen. Wait for me. It's time. Daniela. Can you hear them? They're going to school.
Melania
Be quiet, fella. This is a thing like growing up, not like playing.
Agnela
Will you walk with me to the front gate, Mama? And fella?
Aniela
We walked out to the gate with her and saw the other children going to school down below. And now that the great moment had come, our mother could find nothing to say, even less than our father.
Agnela
Mama, should I go now? Go.
Melania
Agnela.
Aniela
Agnela went down the hill, and we stood watching her, my mother shading her eyes against the sun. Long after Agniela had passed from sight into the schoolhouse. My mother stood there until finally I tugged at her dress.
Agnela
Mama.
Melania
That they must grow up. That they must be so small when they grow up in a country so large.
Aniela
So large. Ah, come.
Melania
The work waits.
Aniela
We went in for a while. As my mother worked, I wandered from room to room. The house was empty. I stopped before the little things Agnela had done with her touch, with her patience. The roses of crepe paper in the Mason jars that she had put in the window. The picture of a piano from an old magazine she'd pinned up on the wall. I went up to my mother at the washtub.
Agnela
Mama, what lesson does Aunt Leila learn in school?
Melania
She learns the ways of this country.
Agnela
What is it like to go to school in this country?
Melania
Well, you will see in your own turn. You will see.
Aniela
I'M smart enough to go already.
Melania
Not yet, Falutka. Next year.
Agnela
Now.
Aniela
Tomorrow.
Melania
Oh, you're the strong one. You'll do it. You'll climb out of this deep pit.
Agnela
Then let me go.
Melania
Can you not even wait till Aniela comes home and tells you how it is?
Agnela
No.
Aniela
Tell me now, then. My mother sat in the low rocker that had no arms and she told me to sit by the kitchen table.
Melania
We are in school. I am the teacher.
Aniela
She rocked a moment while I sat and held my breath. I tried not to see the stove behind her, or the wash basin on the stand in the corner. I tried not to smell the cabbages cooking or the sour smell of my father's mine clothes soaking in the tubs.
Melania
I will tell you of this country. That is the way to begin, sir. In this country are many people, but all were not born here who claim this country. Some came from far away, crossing oceans to get here. They came because in their homelands they heard of the greatness and the hope. In America it was told them that here a man can have pride in his name and can work for himself and his family, that he is like another man and all men the same. They who came brought their music, their old traditions, their good blood and willing hands. They brought what they could, even a small thing, perhaps a way to make lace, for they wished to bring something.
Aniela
She sighed and nodded to herself, and I knew she was thinking of her people and of her past. I closed my eyes and thought of her name. Melania. Melania. It was like music to me.
Melania
It's not all like this in America. Not all like this mine camp. For no matter where you live in this country, country there can always be another place. A farm perhaps, where it is green. Or a large house in the city with enough room for all. There's much in this land of many. But it is because the people here are equal one to the other, that those in other countries dream of it. For more than any country, this one belongs to the people of the world. Though they may never see it, though they may never live here. I have taught you all I can. Felucca. School is over.
Agnela
Mama, will Anyela come home soon from school?
Melania
Soon she will come home.
Agnela
And I will put on my communion dress too, so I can welcome her.
Melania
All right, Felutka?
Aniela
I washed again and put on my communion dress carefully, with the muslin petticoat under it, and I went out to the gate and watched. And then I saw her coming far below and I forgot about the dress and I Leaned far out over the gate in my excitement.
Geraldine
Mama, she's coming. Come see. Yes, yes. With friends. With friends, too.
Aniela
Oh, I was happy to the skies as Agnela came along the mine road surrounded by children, American children. The Mathenys, the Lesters, the Wilkes. I could see them dancing around her and laughing, although I could catch only her name as they shouted it. I was so happy, I swung back and forth on the gate and chanted in time with it.
Geraldine
Agnella's got friends. Agnella's got friends. Aniella's got friends.
Melania
What are they doing for?
Geraldine
Oh, they're all dancing around here together. Oh, look. Bertha wilked too.
Aniela
Then they were below us on the cinder road, and I saw and heard closely. There was dust on Aniela's shining store shoes. Her communion dress was smudged with dirt. Her thin legs looked as if she were trying to run in a dream. And I heard their words now. And Bertha worked. The fat one was the loudest of all. And Aniela's face as she struggled up towards us, her pitiful, gentle face twitched as if by torture. And then my mother was suddenly beside Agnela, stumbled past us and into the house, while I stood there like a small rabbit, rooted in terror. And again my mother raised up her hands and shouted madly. And the children scattered and ran before her awful face.
Geraldine
I don't want to go back. I don't want to go back. I don't want to go back.
Melania
Tomorrow. You will go back tomorrow. Tomorrow, do you hear? And you, Kayla, you will go when your time comes. Do you hear? You will learn what you must.
Geraldine
Mama, I don't want to. I don't want to.
Melania
Do you hear me? Everyone is not like those stupid ones who say, this is my country, not yours. Do you understand?
Geraldine
No.
Melania
No, Kayla.
Geraldine
You won't send her back, Mama. You won't send her back. You won't. You won't.
Aniela
And I beat at my mother with my fists, and I screamed at her.
Geraldine
She won't go back. You're mean. You're not like a mother.
Aniela
And then I was being shaken. My mother had hold of me in her strong hands, and she was shaking me in rage. And then she was slapping me.
Melania
She will go. She will go. And you, when your turn comes, this will change, this life. It is something we must learn how to do. Even children. Even they.
Aniela
I covered my head and I wouldn't cry. I bit my mouth and made no sound. Then suddenly, as I waited for another blow, I heard a sob from my mother. And I felt myself lifted up and held to her in her straining arms as she rocked from side to side. And then my fears burst and my tears ran. And I heard her agonized whisper in my ear.
Melania
My little one. My fighting won.
Geraldine
My poor, poor child.
Aniela
And we wept together, all three clinging to each other. And that was my first lesson, even before I went to school. And now, as I look down at my little girl asleep in her bed. And think of tomorrow and her first day in school. A prayer of thanks trembles on my lips for my mother and her faith in the greatness and hope of America. Perhaps my little girl, too, will meet those who would deny what is hers by right. But she will learn, as I learned from my mother. That they, the stupid ones, are not the many, but the few in this land made great by the many different peoples who have come to it and call it home.
Narrator
Geraldine Fitzgerald was starred in today's story, the Lesson by Mary Leslie Harrison, published in Mademoiselle. This is a Lest We Forget presentation of the Institute for Democratic Education.
Podcast Title: Harold's Old Time Radio
Host/Author: Harold's Old Time Radio
Episode Title: Lest We Forget - Stories To Remember 48-10-28 01 The Lesson
Release Date: May 8, 2025
In this emotionally charged episode of "Harold's Old Time Radio," listeners are transported back to the Golden Age of Radio with the poignant story "The Lesson" by Mary Leslie Harrison. Narrated by Geraldine Fitzgerald, the episode delves into themes of immigration, sacrifice, the pursuit of education, and familial love within the harsh realities of a West Virginia mining camp.
The story is set in a mining camp in West Virginia, 22 years prior to the episode's present-day reflection. The environment is depicted as rugged and unforgiving, with "bony hills with coal dust," "cinder dumps," and a "black mine temple" at the mine's entrance, painting a vivid picture of the struggles faced by the protagonist's family.
At the outset ([00:10] - [02:05]), Aniela describes the serene yet tense moment beside her sister Agnela's bed as they prepare for her first day of school. The family's modest kitchen becomes the backdrop for their morning rituals, highlighting the blend of hope and hardship that characterizes their lives.
A poignant exchange between Piotr and Melania ([01:20] - [01:40]) reveals the family's financial strain. Piotr contemplates staying home to watch Agnela go to school but is gently restrained by Melania, who emphasizes the importance of earning a living to secure a better future for their children:
Piotr: "But our first child's first day in school. I can stay and watch her go."
Melania ([01:24] - [01:26]): "No. You must earn and we must say what we can."
Agnela's steadfast determination to attend school despite the family's circumstances is evident ([02:05] - [02:43]). She expresses a desire to learn English and acquire knowledge independently, reflecting the immigrant spirit and the value placed on education.
Agnela ([04:01] - [04:13]): "I will go and learn to talk and write English, bella. And then I will teach you. No, I'll go to school myself."
Melania imparts critical life lessons to her daughters ([07:25] - [08:22]), emphasizing the ideals of equality and opportunity in America. She speaks of the immigrants' contributions and the collective strength that builds the nation:
Melania ([07:25] - [08:22]): "In this country are many people, but all were not born here who claim this country. ... It is because the people here are equal one to the other, that those in other countries dream of it."
As Agnela heads to school, the narrative reaches an emotional climax ([10:27] - [12:25]). Aniela witnesses her mother's intense emotions as she grapples with pride and fear. The confrontation escalates when Melania forces the children to accept the harsh realities of their lives, leading to a physical and emotional struggle.
Melania ([12:04] - [12:14]): "Everyone is not like those stupid ones who say, this is my country, not yours. Do you understand?"
The story culminates in a moment of vulnerability and reconnection between Aniela and Melania ([12:48] - [13:21]). Amidst the turmoil, the mother and daughter share a heartfelt embrace, symbolizing forgiveness, understanding, and the unbreakable bond of family.
Melania ([13:13] - [13:17]): "My little one. My fighting won."
Geraldine ([13:17] - [13:21]): "My poor, poor child."
In the closing moments ([13:21] - [14:24]), Aniela reflects on her mother's faith in America and the lessons passed down to her and her own child. She contemplates the enduring struggle against those who seek to undermine their rights, reaffirming the importance of resilience and unity.
Aniela: "Perhaps my little girl, too, will meet those who would deny what is hers by right. But she will learn, as I learned from my mother."
"Lest We Forget - Stories To Remember 48-10-28 01 The Lesson" is a compelling narrative that encapsulates the immigrant experience, the pursuit of education, and the emotional resilience required to navigate familial and societal challenges. Through Geraldine Fitzgerald's evocative narration, listeners gain a profound appreciation for the sacrifices made by previous generations and the enduring legacy of hope and determination they leave behind.
This episode serves not only as a recollection of the past but also as a timeless lesson on the values of perseverance, education, and the unyielding bonds of family.