A New Beginning: My Journey with Addy

I take a deep breath and look at the book in Addy’s hands. “I’ll give it a try,” I say. The book is easy, but I read very slowly, careful not to show off in front of the whole group. After half a page I pass it along, my heart still thumping a little from the nerves of being watched.

Addy looks at me like I’ve done something remarkable. “You read real good,” she whispers, awe creeping into her voice, and I realize what a big deal that is here. I admit that I already knew how to read before I got to Philadelphia, and Addy looks like she might burst from happiness. She wants to study together after school, and her excitement over homework is nothing like anything I’ve felt about it before.

While the next girl in our group reads, I glance around the busy room and notice a boy about my age working at his desk. He has tied two mini chalkboards together with a bit of cord, each one only about the size of the tablet I got for my birthday, and he’s copying letters from one onto the other. His hand moves slowly and carefully, but the letters still come out wobbly. Miss Dunn stops beside him and tells him how much he’s improved, and he beams like he’s worked hard to earn every bit of that praise.

Watching him makes me think about how distracted I’ve been lately, so busy missing Mom and Dad that there’s been no room left in my brain for schoolwork. I look back at Addy, who is helping the girl beside her sound out a word without letting her own worries about her family get in the way. If missing Poppa, Sam, Esther, and Uncle Solomon and Aunt Lula hasn’t stopped Addy from trying her hardest, I don’t have much of an excuse either.

Once the reading groups finish, it’s time for geography. I settle in next to Addy and Sarah to look at a map. The map looks almost right but a little bit wrong, the way most things here do. There’s no North or South Dakota, only one big space labeled “Dakota Territory,” and the place I know as Oklahoma is marked “Indian Territory” instead. Even Alaska has vanished, replaced by letters spelling out “Russian America.” Instead of Canada, the map states “British America.”

Addy puts her finger on the map and finds Pennsylvania, and tells me that’s where we are. Then she slides her finger south to find South Carolina, where Uncle Solomon, Aunt Lula, and Esther are. She hesitates before admitting she isn’t sure exactly where Poppa and Sam are. Harriet, looking over our shoulders, says her uncle is a soldier fighting for the Union army in Virginia. She gets a letter from him every week. Sarah and Addy are silent. With a huff, Harriet turns her back to talk to someone else.

Sarah whispers that Harriet thinks she’s special because she gets a letter every week. Addy says she is lucky to know where her uncle is. I feel a pang of guilt sitting there, knowing exactly where my own family is while Addy doesn’t know where hers is.

Sarah turns the conversation kinder, saying maybe Addy’s poppa and brother are wandering through a freedmen’s camp somewhere, on their way to Philadelphia. I ask what a freedmen’s camp is, and Sarah explains that it’s a safe place where people escaping slavery can stay while they travel toward freedom, somewhere that gives them food, a place to rest, and help finding their way further north. A plan starts forming in my mind almost as fast as she finishes talking, a plan that involves paper, a pen, and an address for one of those camps.

Addy considers it, hopeful but nervous, admitting that she still isn’t confident enough in her writing to get such an important letter exactly right on her own. I tell Addy that she’s working very hard. She’ll be able to write a letter soon enough. Sarah says I’m right. Addy is one of the best readers in the class. Addy’s face brightens as she proudly says she’s teaching Momma to read too. It dawns on me right then that I didn’t see a single book lying around in the Walkers’ room, and an idea about a different kind of gift starts to take shape.

I want to ask Miss Dunn whether Addy could borrow a book from somewhere, but she’s busy helping another student, so I turn to Harriet instead, keeping my voice low so Addy won’t overhear. I ask her, quietly, where the public library is. I want to get a book. Harriet raises her eyebrows like I’ve said something foolish and tells me plainly that the library doesn’t let Colored people borrow books. My mouth falls open, and for a second I want to say that’s ridiculous, before I remind myself all over again that it’s 1864.

If I can’t borrow a book for Addy, I suppose I’ll have to buy one, except I don’t have any real money on me, only my great-great-granduncle Charley’s two-cent piece, and I need that to find my way back home. So maybe, I think, I could make Addy a book instead. It wouldn’t be anything like the fine leather-bound books we passed in Delmonte’s shop earlier, but it would still be something of her own to read at home, and I can almost hear Gran telling me not to give up before I’ve even tried.

Miss Dunn notices me lost in thought and asks what’s on my mind. I glance over to check that Addy and Sarah are still busy with something else before I whisper that I’d like to give Addy a book, since she loves reading so much. Miss Dunn’s whole face lights up at the idea, and when I admit I’m not sure how I’d actually make one, she tells me it would mean a great deal to Addy either way.

I mention that Addy hopes to teach Momma to read someday, and Miss Dunn says she isn’t surprised in the least, since Addy is about as determined a student as she’s ever had. That gets me wondering out loud whether Addy could grow up to be a teacher herself, and Miss Dunn tells me about the Institute for Colored Youth, a school right here in Philadelphia that trains Colored people to become teachers. Addy would need to wait until she’s eleven and pass exams in reading, writing, and mathematics, but Miss Dunn is certain she’d make a fine teacher one day.

That settles something in me. One little book won’t turn Addy into a teacher overnight, but it could still be a start, a way of handing her something that’s hers to keep and practice with at home. At the same time, I can’t stop thinking about how much brighter her whole day would turn if she had even a scrap of real news about Poppa and Sam. How should I help Addy?