The Year of Miss Agnes

We recently finished up reading The Year of Miss Agnes by Kirkpatrick Hill. Told in the voice of an uneducated ten-year-old girl living in an Alaskan fishing village in 1948, the story was simple and unadorned yet somehow tugged at a certain place in my heart.

The children live in a world where hard work is valued and education is often perceived as a frivolous pursuit, taking from their contributions to their families and the village. Teachers are hard to come by and rarely last a year in the harsh environment.

Miss Agnes became the exception to the rule, enlarging their world and kindling a fire of curiosity and wonder.

pg. 111

It seemed like everything reminded me and Bokko of Miss Agnes. Everthing had something to do with what we learned from her, as if we just woke up to see the world around us, and way beyond us.

Miss Agnes reads Robin Hood, points out places on a map, learns sign language and teaches it to the whole class so that a deaf girl can join it, finds the strengths of each child, writes personal books for each child to read--with his own interests and at his reading level.

My only slight (very slight) hesitation with the book was the way the incorrect grammar grated on my nerves. It wouldn't have been authentic otherwise, but it was difficult to read aloud to my son who is still forming his language skills. 'Me and Bokko went...,' drove me crazy. Levi had just finished a grammar lesson on that usage specifically, and when he was reading it aloud to me he paused and re-read it, 'Bokko and I went...' Warmed my little heart. I don't think I would have been as bothered by the grammar had I been reading it alone. (Now I am searching back through my post, wondering how many grammar errors I made. Please go easy on me. Grin.)