Miss Maude Moore was our sixth-grade teacher. She drove a little gray car and lived with her sister. She’d graduated from Flora McDonald College and approached teaching much like Miss Dove in the book “Good Morning, Miss Dove.”

She ran her classroom with perfect discipline, and we learned.

No one questioned her authority. We were a little afraid of her. Once, a new boy — a rarity in our little rural school — came into our class.

He wasn’t the usual farm child taught to respect his elders. The first thing we noticed about Pate Johnson was his smirk. He didn’t pay attention in class and was reluctant to follow instructions.

On his third day in class, Miss Moore, as was her custom, told him to go to

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