Burris Ewell: the Struggles and Realities of Poverty and Neglect

Introduction

Today is my third year in first grade. My name’s Burris Ewell and all I got is my siblings and my pops. Every year my brothers and I gotta go to school for one day just so the law ain’t get my pops in trouble. My dad gets away with lots of stuff. For example, he gets to hunt out of season, as he spends his checks on whiskey, and we gotta eat somehow. I scratch my head as I pick up some dirty jeans off the floor.

Wish I had a choice to go to school or not, but the stupid truant lady keeps threatening us with the sheriff. She’s given up tryna make us go, though, and she lets us go for one day.

An introduction to Burris Ewell’s character and his impoverished family life

It’s finally time to start walking to school. I do sometimes overthink on these walks. Maybe if I were a better influence on my young siblings, we could be out of this situation, and we could make something out of our lives. What the heck am I thinkin’? I kick these silly thoughts out of my head. School’s bullcrap, and the teachers don’t care. I finally arrive at school and enter my class and take my usual spot in the back corner. My teacher this year is named Miss Caroline Fisher. She’s new around town, I’ve heard. She better not start any funny business. Miss Fisher starts some boring lecture, and as usual, I zone out. Suddenly I look up to see Miss Caroline smacking Scout Finch on the hands.

“What did she do?” I ask the kid next to me.
“She tried to explain to the teacher why the Cunninghams can’t accept money,” he says.
“Sounds like a load of barnacles,” I mutter. Scout’s always been a rugged kid, she barely starts school, and she’s already gotten a good smack.

It’s finally time for recess, and I look over, and I see Scout Finch rubbin’ poor Cunningham’s face into the dirt. I chuckle to myself as it is a funny sight to see. I look around some more n see some teachers giving me the stink eye due to my stink. Whatever they need, to mind their own business. It’s my turn-up next, and I easily pummel some kid into the ground. It’s my 5th winning streak. After recess, we go back into the classroom and start some boring stories. I then hear a horrid lady-like scream.

The Encounter with Miss Caroline Fisher: A Clash of Social Classes

I look up to see Miss Caroline Fisher pointing a long delicate finger at me with absolute sheer terror on her face. “It’s alive!” she shrieked. Little Chuck then rushes to her side to comfort her and asks her what’s wrong. “I was just walking by when it crawled out of his hair…just crawled out of his hair-” I grin, wide yellow crooked teeth smile, and reach up to grab the cootie. Miss Fisher looks at me in absolute disgust, “What’s your name, son?” she asks. “Burris Ewell,” I say, “son of Bob Ewell.”

She goes over to her desk and flips through a book, “I want you to go home and wash your hair with lye soap. When you’ve done that, treat your scalp with kerosene.” I look at her confused, “What for, missus?” I ask. “To get rid of the -er, cooties.” I get up, kind of offended that she commented on my hygienist. “And Burris,” said Miss Caroline, “please bathe yourself before you come back tomorrow.” I laugh rudely. “You ain’t sendin’ me home, missus…I did my time for this year” She looks at me confused, “What do you mean by that?” I laugh at her. One of the kids that has been there for a while explains to her my family situation. Im flattered, “Reckon if I’m smart this year, they’ll promote me to second…” Miss Fisher looked at me and had the nerve to say, “Sit back down, please, Burris” I got pissed at her trying to have any authority over me. “Try me,” I snarl at her. Little Chuck tells her to let me go. I turn to him as his hand goes to his pocket. “Watch your step, Burris…Id soon’s kill you as look at you. Now go home.” I back off, and Miss Caroline continues with her fussing. “Burris, go home. If you don’t, I’ll call the principal; I have to report this anyway. I storm out of the classroom and yell over my shoulder, “Report and be damned to ye! Ain’t no snot-nosed slut of a schoolteacher ever born can make me do nothing! You ain’t makin’ me go nowhere, missus!” I make sure she’s cryin’ and blubberin’ before I walk away with a victorious grin on my face.

Conclusion

I walk back home, and again, those silly thoughts come to my head. Maybe I should’ve called her a snot-nosed slut? Was that too far? I mean, hell, ain’t nobody ever taught me to respect women. I sometimes do wish I had a mother to teach me right from wrong, but all I got was a drunk father that wastes our money on his crap. I shake these silly thoughts from my head. What am I thinkin’? Ain’t nobody telling me what to do. I’m an Ewell, and I do what I want!

References

1. Harper Lee. (1960). To Kill a Mockingbird. New York: HarperCollins.

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