She paused thoughtfully, then said, " I think I' ll have a cone with a scoop of each."
He didn' t bat an eyelash, but we did. A scoop of each? All ten flavors? In one cone? Mrs. Knapp, this woman who was smaller than the oldest of her students, was going to eat a ten-scoop ice cream cone?
With the same aplomb she displayed in the classroom, she took the mountain from him carefully and licked the top. She said something like" Mmm" and smiled. And we watched, agog with envy, as she consumed every sweet mound, moving her tongue up and down from vanilla to strawberry to butter pecan, not losing a drop to the heat of the afternoon.
Afterward, we walked back to the school, perhaps just a mile or so away, packed up our things, said good-bye to her and each other, and walked home or waited for our parents to come.
Of course, I told my parents about the event, and, of course, they smiled. We drove past the school the following week. It was closed for the summer and Mrs. Knapp was off somewhere, with Mr. Knapp, I supposed, eating copious quantities of ice cream stacked in sky-high cones. I never saw her again, and though we looked, I never found that ice cream stand, either.
Now, fifty years later, though the little else I can recall about that first school year is only dimly remembered, Mrs. Knapp and her ten-scoop ice cream cone remains one of my clearest childhood memories. And often, as I watch children sitting in the sun outside modern twenty-or thirty-flavor ice cream emporiums, I wonder if perhaps she isn' t somewhere watching, a well-filled waffle cone in hand, still enjoying it mightily.
我读的第一所学校坐落在一座小荒山的山顶，校舍是一间平房，屋顶上插了一个风向标。校舍的周围是农田（农田里还有一个牲畜棚，用来养家畜），当时那片地方还不属于伊利诺伊州的乌尔班纳。回想起来，那所学校有6个班级，共有35名学生，大部分是一些年龄较小的孩子，当然也有十二三岁的。
1953年，父亲在伊利诺伊大学读哲学博士，6岁的我在上一年级。我的同学和高年级学生中的大部分都是农民出身的孩子，有的是享受《美国退伍军人法案》福利的士兵大学生的子女，有的是因为家里太穷无法在城市生活并享受那里的教育。至于我，早期教育主要是父母在家给予的，我想他们认为一年级对于学业不会有太大的影响。
学校里只有一名教师——柯耐普夫人。柯耐普夫人是一名职业教师，她与学校的建筑物看起来一样古老。柯耐普夫人说，她从事了一辈子教育工作，我猜想，她那时应该已经做了35~40年的教育工作了。柯耐普夫人的头发已经全白了，但梳理得很整齐，我想她大概已经六十多岁了。
柯耐普夫人在教学上因材施教，而且对于这种方法已经很有经验了。对于已经能够欣赏史蒂文é和鲍勃先生的诗歌的学生，还有那些读《狄克和珍妮的故事》有些困难的学生，她都能进行指导。假如把一个年级看成是一个不同的国家，那么柯耐普夫人就是一个能流利地讲六种语言的人。不论是学习上，还是在其他方面，柯耐普夫人总能找到适当而又令人好奇的话题。比如说，她所知道的棒球和棒球历史的知识就要比我的父亲多得多，而且总是很乐意与你讨论棒球游击手皮·维·雷斯相对于奇科·卡斯科尔的优点，其中雷斯是她最喜欢的选手，而卡斯科尔是我最喜欢的选手。
柯耐普夫人在我的记忆中留下了一件终身难忘的事情，然而，这件事情不是发生在学校里，而是在乡村玉米田间的一条小路上。第一学年结束的那天下午，天气非常好，她带着我们去田野游玩，准确地说，那是一片种着玉米和小麦的农田，这些庄稼长得比我们还高，也比柯耐普夫人高。绿色的玉米和小麦秆已经变黄，但是还需要两三个月才能收割。
我们漫步于田间，柯耐普夫人耐心地给我们讲述着田间的每一只虫子、每一只小鸟以及每一片树叶。我们像大多数孩子一样，眼睛入迷地捕捉着她给我们讲述的一切。我们沿着那条铺着沙砾的土路走着，这是一条不通车的路，道路的宽度仅够一辆拖机或一辆小汽车通过，一路上看不到一棵树。伊利诺伊草地势平坦，但我们只能看到地平线上蓝色的天空，偶尔也能看到庄稼地尽头露出的农舍屋顶。我们停下来，在路边吃午餐——三明治，耳边传来风吹过庄稼发出的沙沙声，还有乌鸦、蟋蟀和甲虫发出的叫声，眼前是随风摇摆的庄稼。
我们在吃过午餐后继续向前走，然而眼前只是一片又一片的庄稼，耳边是一阵又一阵的鸟叫声，就像是重复前面的旅行，我和其他人一样，开始失去耐心。就在那时，奇迹出现了，在几百码外的另一条田间小路的一侧，坐落着一家冰淇淋店（几年以后，我想起来就感觉那是从《城市贫民区》或者史蒂芬·金的小说里突然冒出来的一样）。这家小店只是一个6~8英尺长、2英尺宽、5英尺高的木柜台，柜台上醒目地印着“冰淇淋——十种口味”，柜台上是一个由几根杆子支起来的遮阳用的木板。一个头发斑白的中年男子面带笑容地站在柜台后面。
柯耐普夫人与这名男子互相打了招呼，就像老朋友一样。然后，她转身对我们说，她请客，每个人要一个任何口味的冰淇淋。大家一下子变得兴高采烈。曾经吃过的巧克力和香草口味的冰淇淋，味道不错，大家商量着是要吃过的，还是尝尝外来的罗克杰或蓝莓冰淇淋。最后，每个人挑选了自己想吃的口味，那个中年男人给我们每人都挖了一大勺。大家一边享受着冰淇淋的香味，一边大口地吃起来。
然后，那个男人问柯耐普夫人：“您想要什么口味的？”我记得，他说话的时候眼睛眨了一下，随后两个人就客套起来。即使几年前与柯耐普夫人来过这个地方的那些学生，也不知道这个冰淇淋店。
柯耐普夫人想了一下，说：“每个口味来一勺，都装在一个盒子里吧。”
我们都惊讶地睁大眼睛，然而那个男人眼睛眨也没眨。一样一勺？10种口味？装在一个盒子里？柯耐普夫人比年龄最大的学生还要瘦弱，她居然能吃10勺冰淇淋！
她从那个男人的手里小心翼翼地接过冰淇淋后，舔了舔冰淇淋的顶部，并发出了“啧啧”的赞美声，表情就像给我们上课时那样沉着。我们站在那里羡慕地看着，她的舌头舔着冰淇淋的每一部分，从草莓味的转到核桃味的，不让夏日的炎热带走一滴。
然后，我们走了大约一英里就回到了学校。大家整理好各自的东西，相互告别后，就走回家或等待父母来接。
我当然会把这件事讲给父母听，他们自然笑了。放暑假后的第二周，我们开车经过学校，柯耐普夫人离开了，学校的大门也已经关上了。我当时就想，柯耐普夫人和她的丈夫一定吃过很多冰淇淋，而那些冰淇淋应该是装在超级包装盒里的。后来，我们就再也没有见到过柯耐普夫人，我们去找了那个冰淇淋店，可是也没有找到。
50年后的今天，我已经记不清第一个学年的事情了，唯有柯耐普夫人和10勺超级装冰淇淋深深地留在了记忆中。现代的大冰淇淋店卖的冰淇淋有20~30种口味，当我看到孩子们坐在冰淇淋店外面时，就会想到，柯耐普夫人是不是手里拿着一个装满冰淇淋的华夫蛋卷，一边注视着这些孩子，一边高兴地品尝呢？
大自然的礼物
Natural Gift
埃德加·霍尔 / Edgar Hall
March 18, 1925. Though only five years of age, I well remember the day the great tornado swept over"Little Egypt", as the southern tip of Illinois is called. The little coal-mining town in which we lived lay directly in its path. The howling wind sounded as if a dozen locomotives were roaring past. We huddled in the kitchen as the roaring filled our ears and seemed to shake our very bones.
Suddenly it was over. The quietness felt unnatural and an eerie, uneasy feeling gripped us. Opening the door, my mother stood transfixed as she gazed upon the awful scene. Debris lay everywhere. The street was impassable. People, some obviously in shock, milled around like cattle, unsure of what to do. The strange silence was suddenly broken by a subdued, pitiful whining at Mother' s feet.
Trembling violently, a wet and frightened little poodle lay wedged between the door and the screen.
"My stars," my mother said, bending over, "Wherever did you come from?"
The bedraggled little dog timidly wagged his tail and began licking Mother' s hand.
Jacky, as we named him, accepted our large family without reservation. We in turn lavished our love upon the displaced but lucky little poodle.
Almost immediately we realized Jacky was an exceptional dog—a very smart one. Surrounded by masses of curly hair, his dark inquisitive eyes sparkled with life.
