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From BrethrenPedia
→A Year in Berlin
"Oh, but you can't do it; he fought the other teachers, and the big boys have all pledged themselves to help him. We heard them talking." I thanked them, calling them "dear boys", and told them not to worry, I wasn't afraid; but I did not feel exactly gay, when I was left alone. Herbert Steadman was sixteen, and a head taller than I. He chewed tobacco, smoked, swore, and sometimes got drunk. He always failed to get promoted out of that grad, and I wondered why he was allowed there at all. Except that my room was noisy, so many feet on the bare floor, I was almost satisfied. Lessons went well, and there was little whispering. Friday afternoons were devoted to singing, reading compositions and speaking pieces.
One day while a small girl was reading: <u>Bang</u>! and something flew across the room, from the boys' side to that of the girls. Immediately you could have heard a pin drop. "Finish your reading" to the little girl, the silence continuing. When she had finished, I walked up the aisle, and picked up a boot! Not a shoe, but a boot with leg nearly to the knee. Returning to the platform, I held it up. "Who threw this boot?" "I did!" in an impudent tone, from Herbert. "<u>Come</u> <u>here</u>, Herbert." He came to me with the air of a conqueror, as I stood with the raw-hide in my right hand.
"Take off your coat." "I won't do it for <u>you</u>", he replied contemptuously. I seized him by the collar, and brought the whip around his shoulders, with all my might. Enraged, with one hand he tore my sleeve nearly out at the shoulder; With the other he grabbed my watch guard, intending to throw my watch as he had thrown his boot. Perhaps he was counting on his allies, but not one stirred.
