田間之旅 Field Trip

伊萬·蓋爾福德·布雷克/Evan Guilfore-Blake

My first school was the storied one-room schoolhouse. An old whitewashed building with a red roof and a vane on the peak, it sat at the top of an unpaved hill surrounded by farmland.including a barn rife with livestock.in a then-unin-corporated area of Urbana, Ilinois. The school housed all six primary grades and, as I recall, there were about thirty-five of us, mostly very young, although we ranged in age, of course, up to twelve or thirteen.

The year was 1953，and I was six years old, a first grader, and the son of a Ph. D.student at the University of Ilinois. My peers and the upper graders were farm kids or children of undergrads taking advantage of the GI Bill. Some were just too poor to live in the city, which would have qualified them for a city school. I suspect my parents dismissed the relevance of first grade, since most of my education came at home, at their hands, anyway.

The sole teacher in that school was as classic as the building itself. Mrs. Knapp was a schoolmarm by profession and she’d been doing it, she said, all her life. By then, I’d guess, that meant thirty-five or forty years on the job. She had to have been in her sixties：white hair in perfect array. Petite;memory puts her at barely five feet, perhaps one hundred pounds. Bony, with tightly drawn skin and sharp features. Prominent knuckles. Perfect teeth. She brushed after lunch and made sure we did, too.

She handled our diverse intellects with perfect aplomb, guiding those of us who could read well through the pleasures of Stevenson’s poetry and Mr. Popper and those who struggled with reading through the joys of Dick and Jane. If every grade was a different country, Mrs. Knapp was fluent in the six languages we spoke, always having appropriate conversation to offer on whatever subject-academic and not-that our curiosity was heir to. She knew, for example, more about baseball and its history than my father did and was always ready to argue the merits of Pee Wee Reese（her favorite shortstop）against Chico Carrasquel（mine）.The one Mrs. Knapp incident that will always remain engraved in my memory didn’t happen at school, however. It happened on a deserted country road that divided corn-fields on the afternoon of the last day of that, my first full-fledged school year. To celebrate the beautiful weather, she’d taken us on a field trip, literally, through the bright yellow and green of corn and wheat stalks that were taller than I was（and than she was, too（but still two or three months shy of their harvest.

We wandered, as large groups of children are wont to do, our eyes catching with fascination on every bug and bird and leaf, every one of which, unfailingly, Mrs. Knapp had explanations for. We trekked along utterly untrafficked gravel and dirt roads that had been bulldozed just wide enough for tractors or a single car to travel. There were no trees:The Ilinois prairie land was flat, and we could see only the blue of the horizon and an occasional farmhouse rooftop beyond the fields of grain. We ate our lunch sandwiches along a roadside, listening to the rustle of the wind through the gently waving crops.the cries of the crows, the chirrs of the crickets and beetles.

After lunch we walked more. Now, though, the trip had become repetitious-more fields, more crops, more birdcalls-and I, certainly among others, was becoming impatient. Then, it happened:There, in the absolute middle of nowhere（straight out of what, some years later, I would think of as The Twilight Zone or a Stephen King novel（，on the side of another single-lane road hundreds of yards from anything that resembled civilization, stood an ice cream stand. Nothing fancy, just a wooden counter six or eight feet wide, five feet high, two feet deep, with poles supporting a wood sheet that served as sun cover for the grizzled, but smiling, middle-aged man who stood behind it. The words“Ice Cream-10 Flavors”were painted prominently on the front.

The man and Mrs. Knapp greeted each other as old friends. She turned to us and said each of us could have an ice cream cone, any flavor we wished, her treat. Our enthusiasm was, naturally, boundless, and debate over whether to stick to the known delights of chocolate or vanilla or whether to experiment with the exotic Rocky Road or Blueberry raged among us. But we each settled on something, and the man scooped large scoops into waffle cones and handed them out. We savored and devoured.

Then he asked Mrs. Knapp,“What would you like?”I like to think there was a twinkle in his eyes as he did and that what followed was a ritual between them, although the few kids who’d attended Mrs.

Knapp’s classes in years before hadn’t been to the stand.

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.

我讀的第一所學校坐落在一座小荒山的山頂，校舍是一間平房，屋頂上插了一個風向標。校舍的周圍是農田（農田里還有一個牲畜棚，用來養家畜），當時那片地方還不屬于伊利諾伊州的烏爾班納。回想起來，那所學校有6個班級，共有35名學生，大部分是一些年齡較小的孩子，當然也有十二三歲的。

1953年，父親在伊利諾伊大學讀哲學博士，6歲的我在上一年級。我的同學和高年級學生中的大部分都是農民出身的孩子，有的是享受《美國退伍軍人法案》福利的士兵大學生的子女，有的是因為家里太窮無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給予的不會有太大的影響。

學校里只有一名教師——柯耐普夫人。柯耐普夫人是一名職業教師，她與學校的建筑物看起來一樣古老。柯耐普夫人說，她從事了一輩子教育工作，我猜想，她那時應該已經做了35～40年的教育工作了。柯耐普夫人的頭發已經全白了，但梳理得很整齊，我想她大概已經六十多歲了。

柯耐普夫人在教學上因材施教，而且對于這種方法已經很有經驗了。對于已經能夠欣賞史蒂文森和鮑勃先生的詩歌的學生，還有那些讀《狄克和珍妮的故事》有些困難的學生，她都能進行指導。假如把一個年級看成是一個不同的國家，那么柯耐普夫人就是一個能流利地講六種語言的人。不論是學習上，還是在其他方面，柯耐普夫人總能找到適當而又令人好奇的話題。比如說，她所知道的棒球和棒球歷史的知識就要比我的父親多得多，而且總是很樂意與你討論棒球游擊手皮·維·雷斯相對于奇科·卡拉斯科爾的優點，其中雷斯是她最喜歡的選手，而卡拉斯科爾是我最喜歡的選手。

柯耐普夫人在我的記憶中留下了一件終身難忘的事情，然而，這件事情不是發生在學校里，而是在鄉村玉米田間的一條小路上。第一學年結束的那天下午，天氣非常好，她帶著我們去田野游玩，準確地說，那是一片種著玉米和小麥的農田，這些莊稼長得比我們還高，也比柯耐普夫人高。綠色的玉米和小麥稈已經變黃，但是還需要兩三個月才能收割。

我們漫步于田間，柯耐普夫人耐心地給我們講述著田間的每一只蟲子、每一只小鳥以及每一片樹葉。我們像大多數孩子一樣，眼睛入迷地捕捉著她給我們講述的一切。我們沿著那條鋪著沙礫的土路走著，這是一條不通車的路，道路的寬度僅夠一輛拖拉機或一輛小汽車通過，一路上看不到一棵樹。伊利諾伊草原地勢平坦，但我們只能看到地平線上藍色的天空，偶爾也能看到莊稼地盡頭露出的農舍屋頂。我們停下來，在路邊吃午餐——三明治，耳邊傳來風吹過莊稼發出的沙沙聲，還有烏鴉、蟋蟀和甲蟲發出的叫聲，眼前是隨風搖擺的莊稼。

我們在吃過午餐后繼續向前走，然而眼前只是一片又一片的莊稼，耳邊是一陣又一陣的鳥叫聲，就像是重復前面的旅行，我和其他人一樣，開始失去耐心。就在那時，奇跡出現了，在幾百碼外的另一條田間小路的一側，坐落著一家冰淇淋店（幾年以后，我想起來就感覺那是從《城市貧民區》或者史蒂芬·金的小說里突然冒出來的一樣）。這家小店只是一個6～8英尺長、2英尺寬、5英尺高的木柜臺，柜臺上醒目地印著“冰淇淋——十種口味”，柜臺上是一個由幾根桿子支起來的遮陽用的木板。一個頭發斑白的中年男子面帶笑容地站在柜臺后面。

柯耐普夫人與這名男子互相打了招呼，就像老朋友一樣。然后，她轉身對我們說，她請客，每個人要一個任何口味的冰淇淋。大家一下子變得興高采烈。曾經吃過的巧克力和香草口味的冰淇淋，味道不錯，大家商量著是要吃過的，還是嘗嘗外來的羅克杰或藍莓冰淇淋。最后，每個人挑選了自己想吃的口味，那個中年男人給我們每人都挖了一大勺。大家一邊享受著冰淇淋的香味，一邊大口地吃起來。

然后，那個男人問柯耐普夫人：“您想要什么口味的？”我記得，他說話的時候眼睛眨了一下，隨后兩個人就客套起來。即使幾年前與柯耐普夫人來過這個地方的那些學生，也不知道這個冰淇淋店。

柯耐普夫人想了一下，說：“每個口味來一勺，都裝在一個盒子里吧。”

我們都驚訝地睜大眼睛，然而那個男人眼睛眨也沒眨。一樣一勺？10種口味？裝在一個盒子里？柯耐普夫人比年齡最大的學生還要瘦弱，她居然能吃10勺冰淇淋！

她從那個男人的手里小心翼翼地接過冰淇淋后，舔了舔冰淇淋的頂部，并發出了“嘖嘖”的贊美聲，表情就像給我們上課時那樣沉著。我們站在那里羨慕地看著，她的舌頭舔著冰淇淋的每一部分，從草莓味的轉到核桃味的，不讓夏日的炎熱帶走一滴。

然后，我們走了大約一英里就回到了學校。大家整理好各自的東西，相互告別后，就走回家或等待父母來接。

我當然會把這件事講給父母聽，他們自然笑了。放暑假后的第二周，我們開車經過學校，柯耐普夫人離開了，學校的大門也已經關上了。我當時就想，柯耐普夫人和她的丈夫一定吃過很多冰淇淋，而那些冰淇淋應該是裝在超級包裝盒里的。后來，我們就再也沒有見到過柯耐普夫人，我們去找了那個冰淇淋店，可是也沒有找到。

50年后的今天，我已經記不清第一個學年的事情了，唯有柯耐普夫人和10勺超級裝冰淇淋深深地留在了記憶中。現代的大冰淇淋店賣的冰淇淋有20～30種口味，當我看到孩子們坐在冰淇淋店外面時，就會想到，柯耐普夫人是不是手里拿著一個裝滿冰淇淋的華夫蛋卷，一邊注視著這些孩子，一邊高興地品嘗呢？

心靈小語

因為有了這份無私、純潔的愛，才能創造出一個又一個奇跡。

詞匯筆記

appropriate[?'propriit]adj.適當的；恰當的

例 Her dark clothes were not appropriate for a wedding.她那身暗色的衣服不適合參加婚禮。

celebrate['s?l?,bret]v.慶祝；頌揚

例 People held a great party to celebrate their victory.人們舉行了盛大的晚會慶祝他們的勝利。

display[di'sple]n.陳列；展示；表演；顯像

例 A new kind of car was on display in the shop.

商店里展出一種新汽車。

event[i'v?nt]n.事件；大事；運動項目

例 This is an important event in the year.

這是本年度一個重要的事件。

小試身手

學校里只有一名教師——柯耐普夫人。

譯________________________________________

我們漫步于田間，柯耐普夫人耐心地給我們講述著田間的每一只蟲子、每一只小鳥以及每一片樹葉。我們像大多數孩子一樣，眼睛入迷地捕捉著她給我們講述的一切。

譯________________________________________

柯耐普夫人與這名男子互相打了招呼，就像老朋友一樣。

譯________________________________________

短語家族

My peers and the upper graders were farm kids or children of undergrads taking advantage of the GI Bill.

take advantage of：利用；欺騙；占……的便宜

造________________________________________

Packed up our things.

pack up：打包；收拾；停止工作

造________________________________________