When I started teaching English at Northwestern Military and Naval Academy near Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, nobody warned me about
ghosts.Northwestern — a beautiful, old granite building — was a boarding school. A hundred boys lived there, ranging in age from seventh grade through twelfth, although
building could have accommodated maybe twice as many. The school had been in existence for about a century. The hallway leading to
gymnasium was lined with photographs of all
graduating classes
The entrance to
school featured two wrought iron gates and a long driveway that wound through
extensive grounds. Trees, flowers and shrubs added to
park-like atmosphere.
Northwestern was both a military and a naval academy, and some of its graduates had served in World War I and World War II. A couple of those who had been killed in action were buried on
grounds. Considering
age of
building and its history, I suppose I should have expected ghosts — or rather, I should have expected ghost stories.
But I didn’t.
Not until one fall morning when my students came to class so upset that they couldn’t concentrate on their school work.
“Do you believe in ghosts?” one of them asked finally.
“Yeah, Ms. Ralph. Do you believe in ghosts?” several others chimed in.
While I was attending
university to earn my teacher certification, none of
professors had mentioned how you were supposed to handle a question like this.
“Well,” I said, “I think there are probably many things in this world that we don’t understand.”
By now, all of my students were giving me their utmost attention. If only they were this interested in English.
“Have you ever seen a ghost?” one of them asked.
I shook my head. “No. I’ve never seen a ghost.”
“We have,” said one young man.
“Really?” I said. “And when was this?”
“Last night.”
“In our room.”
“We did, too,” said a couple of others.
“What happened?” I asked.
“It was just after lights out. Our curtain started moving.”
Instead of doors, each of
dorm rooms had curtains covering
doorway.