Miss Whatchamajig

by Donna Poole

The neighbors called them “the boys on the block” because the rest of the neighborhood children were girls. The four boys were inseparable. They walked to school and home from school together and spent most of their free time with each other. They had big plans; they were going to form a band when they grew up and call themselves, you guessed it, “The Boys on the Block.” And they were going to be famous.

Music was their last class of the day, and it was their favorite. It didn’t matter to them that their third-grade music teacher, Miss Whatchamajig, winced whenever the class sang. She was too kind to tell the boys they were tone deaf. Perhaps they’d improve with age. I mean, miracles still do happen, right?

Miss Whatchamajig often said, “Liam, William, James, Henry, please sing a bit quieter. I can’t hear the girls.” The boys would quiet down for a line or two, but then they’d go back to singing the way they did everything else. What they lacked in talent they made up for in enthusiasm.

There was something Miss Whatchamajig didn’t know. Even her trained ear couldn’t hear it, because the volume of three of the boys covered up the quieter voice of the fourth. Not only was one voice in tune; it was pitch perfect.

The boys on the block were good kids, for the most part. They couldn’t wait until their parents let them leave the block so they could have more adventures. Maybe that would happen next year when they were ten years old. But for now, they had to find their fun on the block where they’d all lived since they’d been born. They were glad for the empty lot where they spent most of their time, hanging out, kicking a football, tossing a baseball, or talking.

Sometimes they practiced for the day they’d become a famous band, but that usually ended in an argument, because they couldn’t agree on what kind of music they wanted to sing. And that argument got quite heated after school on April 30 with only one month left of third grade.

“Let’s sing pop,” William said. “My dad says it’s the most popular kind of music in the whole world.”

“Nah, I don’t like pop,” James said. “Let’s sing country. We could make lots of money like Brooks & Dunn.”

“That sounds like two people.” William said. “There are four of us. That’s not gonna work.”

“We could be like ‘Alabama’ then.” James said. “There were four of them. Their music is old, but my dad still plays it. He says country music is more popular than ever.”

“I don’t care if it’s popular. I hate country music. I’m not singing it.” William’s voice was getting even louder than normal.

The two boys glared at each other.

“How about rock then? I bet we’d be good at that!” Henry said.

Liam shook his head. “My grandparents wouldn’t approve of me being in a rock band.”

“Hey, weirdo.” James punched him lightly on the shoulder and grinned. “Your grandparents won’t still be alive by the time we’re old enough to be a band.”

“Yeah, I guess. But I still wouldn’t want to disappoint them. Maybe they could still see me from heaven.” Liam looked sad, and James felt horrible. How could he make this better?

Liam was a good friend. James and the other boys had stood near him at the cemetery when they’d all been just five-years old, and they’d all cried with him. He’d lost both parents in a car accident, and now his grandparents took care of him. It wasn’t his fault if he sometimes sounded like a little old man. He lived with old people.

James asked, “What kind of music do your grandparents like?”

Liam’s face brightened. “They like southern gospel. Do any of you like it?”

The boys shrugged. “I guess we haven’t heard it.” William spoke for all of them. “Maybe we’d like it if we heard it. Do any of the bands have four people?”

“Sure! There’s lots of famous quartets, “Ernie Haase & Signature Sound,” “Tribute Quartet,” and “The Kingsmen Quartet,” but they have more than four guys.”

James was still feeling bad about making Liam sad earlier. Maybe he could make him feel better. “I like that name, ‘The Kingsmen Quartet.’ We could call our band ‘The Four Kings’ instead of ‘The Boys on the Block.’ Do you know any of their songs?” Liam nodded. “Okay, how about singing us one?”

Liam shook his head. “I don’t like singing by myself.”

“Aw, come on,” Henry said. “Sing one. If we like it, we’ll all learn it. Hey, we could sing it tomorrow after class for Miss Whatchamajig! My mom said sometimes people give flowers on May Day. We could give her some flowers and ask her to listen to us and tell us if she thought the “The Four Kings’ would be a good band someday.

“Okay.” Liam took a deep breath and started to quietly sing, “Beulah Land,” a song he loved because it made him think of his parents waiting for him in heaven.

“I’m kind of homesick for a country
To which I’ve never been before
No sad goodbyes will there be spoken
For time won’t matter anymore

“Beulah Land I’m longing for you,
And some day on thee I’ll stand.
There my home shall be eternal.
Beulah Land, sweet Beulah Land.”

Liam finished and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. The other three stared at him astonished. They’d never heard him sing alone before. Nine-year-old boys don’t often do group hugs, but The Four Kings did one then.

William said, “You’re crazy good, Liam! You could sing the first part by yourself, and we could join you on the ‘Beulah land’ part. Let’s try it.”

It didn’t take the three boys long to learn the chorus. Then they went home with Liam, told his grandma their idea, and practiced the song on her.

“What do you think, Grandma?” Liam asked.

“I’ve never in my life heard anything quite like it!” Grandma said, with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. “So, you want flowers? We have lilacs, violets, and bleeding hearts in bloom. Would you like me to help you pick a bunch for Miss Whatchamajig?”

Liam couldn’t figure out how to take Grandma’s beautiful vase of flowers to school with him in the morning, so he pulled the flowers out and stuffed them into his backpack.

The four boys were so excited they could hardly wait for the school day to end. When it finally did, Liam retrieved the wilted bouquet, and the four boys hurried to Miss Whatchamajig.

“Please don’t leave yet,” Liam said. “We brought you some flowers for May Day.”

Miss Whatchamajig managed to express gratitude without laughing and gathered up her music books.

“Can you stay just a couple minutes?” Henry asked. “We want to be a band someday. We have a name picked out and everything. We’re gonna be ‘The Four Kings.’ And we want to know what you think of our song.”

Miss Whatchamajig agreed while wishing she had earplugs and wondering what on earth she would say when they finished torturing her. Before Liam was half finished with his solo, tears were running down her face.

How did I never hear this child’s amazing voice before?

But when the other three joined in on the chorus with great volume and enthusiasm she knew exactly why she’d never heard Liam. She couldn’t hear him now. She tried not to wince.

“So, what do you think?” Henry asked, an excited grin covering his face.

“I’ve never in my life heard anything quite like it!” Miss Whatchamajig said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.

“So, you think we could be a band?”

“Anything is possible!”

The Four Kings thanked her and tripped over each other hurrying out the door.

Miss Whatchamajig gathered up the wilted flowers and started to throw them in the wastebasket. The janitor would empty the garbage before the boys returned tomorrow. Then she hesitated.

I think I’ll take these home, put them in water, and see if I can revive them. It would take a miracle, but I suppose anything is possible. I really didn’t lie to those boys. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them sings in a band someday. And the other three? Maybe I should teach them to play cymbals.

She groaned.

Too loud! They say the humble recorder is one of the quietest musical instruments. Maybe I’ll teach the whole class how to play.

She held the flowers to her nose. The wilted lilacs still smelled beautiful.

I wonder if heaven smells like lilacs. That song, “Beulah Land?” Mom and Grandma like that one. I haven’t thought of it for years, and I haven’t been home in a long, long time. I think I’ll try to fly home for Mother’s Day. I’ll tell them about a new up and coming band, “The Four Kings.”

Miss Whatchamajig walked out of the school, and the empty hallway echoed with the sound of her laughter and the scent of lilacs.

The End
***

These blogs are now available in book form on Amazon:

Backroad Ramblings Volume One: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter

Backroad Ramblings Volume Two: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter

Backroad Ramblings Volume Three: Stories of Faith, Love, and Laughter

I have six other books on Amazon as well, four fiction books in the “Life at the Corners” series, and two children’s Christmas picture books.

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