Danvers Academy
Since receiving her teaching certificate three years earlier, Annie Harrison had been diligently searching for a full-time elementary school teaching position in or around the greater Boston metropolitan area. Unfortunately, there were a large number of qualified men and women also looking for teaching jobs, and there were few openings due to decreasing school enrollments and—thanks to the sluggish economy—budget cuts in education.
Like most of her fellow out-of-work educators, Annie tried to make ends meet by substitute teaching and private tutoring until a full-time position became available. These temporary assignments, however, didn't cover all her living expenses. In a short period of time, her credit card balance grew to an alarming high.
Thankfully, before her Visa card reached its limit, Annie received a telephone call from Mr. C. Giles, headmaster of a small but prestigious private school located approximately twenty-five miles north of Boston. One of the school's third-grade teachers had resigned from her post for medical reasons, and the directors wished to hire Annie as a substitute for the remainder of the school year.
"If everything goes satisfactorily, Miss Harrison," Mr. Giles assured her, "there's a good chance you will be offered a permanent position on the faculty next September."
The offer was a godsend. Not only was the salary a generous one for a novice teacher, but on-campus housing was also available. That meant Annie would be spared having to hunt for an apartment in the middle of winter.
Danvers Academy, as Annie soon learned, was a very old school, dating back to the early 1700s. It was originally intended as a prep school for the sons of the area's most prosperous families, and although it had long since gone coed, it still catered to the affluent.
The class sizes at Danvers were small. Annie's third-grade class consisted of only nineteen students: thirteen girls and six boys, many of whom were descendants of the Puritan families who first settled in the area.
Prior to arriving at Danvers Academy, Annie's teaching experience had been limited solely to substituting at public schools. In those classrooms, students were apt to become rowdy, and dispensing discipline was as much an integral part of a schoolteacher's responsibility as was assigning homework, taking attendance, grading papers, administering tests and writing report cards. Annie was therefore unprepared for the silence she encountered in her classroom.
Perhaps the students were unnerved by getting a new teacher midway into the school year, or maybe private schools like Danvers Academy did not tolerate the showoffs, class clowns, troublemakers and attention-seekers so often found in public schools. Whatever the reason for the students' unnatural silence, Annie's first day at Danvers Academy was an awkward experience, to say the least.
Having found it near impossible to break the ice, Annie decided to just plunge into the first lesson. Hopefully, the children would soon feel more at ease. But as the day wore on, there was no change in her students' conduct. They still sat unsmiling and silent, responding only in monosyllabic answers when asked a direct question. There was no whispering of secrets, no sniggering at private jokes, no fidgeting in their seats and no raising of hands to ask questions or volunteer answers. Her students might as well have been department store mannequins.
* * *
One week passed and then another. Still, there was no change in the students' behavior. Annie grew more concerned as each day passed. Finally, she mentioned the bizarre situation to her supervisor, Mr. Giles. The headmaster gruffly explained to Annie that discipline had been instilled into the children from an early age, both at home and in the church. The youngsters had been brought up in accordance with the time-honored axioms "don't speak until you're spoken to," "silence is golden" and "little children should be seen and not heard."
Mr. Giles then none too subtly suggested that Annie should concern herself with improving the children's minds and not with impugning their discipline. The substitute teacher got the message loud and clear: if she hoped to be offered a full-time job in September, she'd better be seen teaching and not heard complaining.
Properly chastised, Miss Harrison stuck to her prepared lesson plan, drafted according to the Academy's established curriculum. Day after day she taught reading, writing and arithmetic to nineteen of the gravest eight-year-olds she'd ever encountered. If silence were indeed golden, then Annie's classroom was Fort Knox.
Thankfully, the students' taciturn behavior was no indication of their academic abilities. Although never unsolicited, their verbal answers—brief and succinct though they were—were invariably correct. On written assignments and tests, their responses were grammatically correct, well-organized and accurate in content. It often seemed to Annie as though she were teaching a class of robots, all programmed with the right answers.
* * *
No matter how gifted their students are, all teachers invariably harbor the belief that they know more than their pupils do. It was only logical. After all, they are the teachers, and their students are there to learn from them. However, Annie was about to discover that there was one subject on which it was her pupils who were the experts and she the ignorant neophyte.
One Friday, she gave a creative writing assignment that was to be completed by Monday. What the students chose to write about wasn't as important as the grammar, punctuation and sentence structure they exhibited in their essays. Little Margaret had chosen for her paper the subject "the Danvers witch-hunt," and the essay described the events surrounding the Salem witchcraft trials. Although she graded the paper an A, Annie couldn't help pointing out to Margaret that the location of the events described had been Salem, not Danvers.
Had the class's pet hamster risen in its Habitrail and recited Hamlet's soliloquy with a proper British accent, Annie wouldn't have been any more surprised than she was when Margaret stood and announced, "I'm not wrong, Miss Harrison. The witch-hunt started in Salem Village, not in Salem Town. In 1752, Salem Village became independent of Salem Town and thereafter was known as Danvers."
Annie was shocked not so much by Margaret's answer but by the fact that one of her zombie-like pupils had actually spoken of her own accord. Now Annie knew how Dr. Victor Frankenstein must have felt when that assembled collection of dead body parts took its first breath.
How often Annie had wanted to scream to the elements, "Give my students life!"
From that moment on, the children took every opportunity to bring up the subject of the persecution of the Salem witches, a subject on which they appeared to be eminent authorities. Much to Annie's dismay, this eagerness to express themselves did not extend to any other subjects. At first, Annie wondered if this preoccupation with such a morbid subject was healthy, but when she remembered her previous encounter with Mr. Giles, she thought it best to keep her doubts to herself.
* * *
Working and living on campus all winter, Annie had few opportunities to see much of Danvers or to meet any of its residents, but when spring weather started to thaw winter's coldness, she decided to spend a few hours exploring the historic and picturesque Massachusetts town.
While eating lunch at a lovely old Colonial Era inn, she had a pleasant conversation with a handsome young man sitting alone at the next table. A native of Plymouth, Robert Forbes, like Annie, was new to the Danvers area. Coincidentally, Robert was also a teacher, who had been teaching computer science at the public high school since the beginning of the school year.
During their conversation, Annie told Robert about her concern for her students' behavior. Having taught only in public high schools, where chaos reigned unless held at bay with the firm hand of discipline, Robert had no solution to Annie's dilemma, but he did have a likely explanation for the children's obsession with witches.
"They're probably so interested in this witchcraft business because it happened here where they were born. I bet there are a lot of kids in Gettysburg or Fredericksburg who have a more than a passing interest in the Civil War."
"I suppose you're right," Annie reluctantly conceded.
"How much do you know about the witchcraft trials?" he asked.
"Only the main ideas, none of the supporting details," she admitted.
"Spoken like a true teacher!" Robert exclaimed with a hardy laugh. "If I might make a suggestion, why don't you do a little homework yourself? I think you'll get through to these kids a lot quicker if you can find a way to relate to them. Not to change the subject—much—but are you doing anything next Saturday?"
"Nothing that I know of," Annie replied with a demure smile.
"If you'd like, we can spend the afternoon together. There's a lot to see and do in this part of Massachusetts."
"I'd love to," she replied, her heart racing with anticipation.
* * *
It was Annie's first date since she started working at Danvers Academy. As such, she was hoping for a candlelit dinner in a romantic restaurant, followed by dancing or a movie, preferably a sentimental "chick flick." She was therefore surprised and somewhat disappointed when Robert suggested they visit the Salem Witch Museum.
How romantic! she thought wryly.
Robert picked Annie up around noon on Saturday and drove to Salem where they first had lunch at the Salem Beer Works before doing any sightseeing. Shortly after three the two teachers entered the dark domain of the Salem Witch Museum and stood with the other visitors around a large, glowing, red circle on the floor. An audio program told the history of the Salem witch-hunt, while around the room, high above the visitors' heads, spotlights shone on three-dimensional tableaus depicting the tragic events of 1692.
A shock traveled down Annie's spine when she heard the names of the unfortunate residents of Salem Village and Salem Town who had been accused of being witches: Martha Corey, Rebecca Nurse, John Proctor and Bridget Bishop. They were the names not only of the victims of the witch-hunt but also of her students!
"Annie, are you okay?" Robert asked when he saw the paleness of her face.
Lost in her own chaotic thoughts, Annie hadn't realized the prerecorded program was over. The lights came on, and the museum's customers were heading for the door. She suddenly took Robert's arm and hurried him through the gift shop and out the exit. Then she practically dragged him across Washington Square, past the statue of founder Roger Conant, and onto Salem Common.
In a rush of words, she told him that several of the students in her class bore the names of the accused witches.
"Robert, how many people were executed during the witch hysteria?"
"Twenty, if you count Giles Corey who was pressed to death under a pile of heavy stones when he refused to answer the charges against him. But nineteen were actually convicted of witchcraft and hanged."
"Nineteen? Is this some bizarre coincidence? I have nineteen students in my class. Look, Robert, I've got to know all the victims' names."
"Wait here a minute," he told her. "I'll be right back."
Robert crossed the street and disappeared into the Witch Museum's gift shop, returning a few minutes later with a book on the Salem witchcraft trials. Annie scanned the paperback book until she found the information she sought.
"All of them!" she exclaimed after reading the list of names in the appendix. "Every student in my class was named after one of the victims. But why? And why are all nineteen the same age and enrolled in the same class at school?"
"I don't think this book will give us those answers, but I know where we might look next," Robert suggested.
Annie looked at him questioningly.
"I'm a computer science teacher, remember? I must confess I'm also something of a gifted hacker. Let's go back to my place, and I'll see if we can get into the Academy's files."
Annie paced the floor as Robert's hands danced over the keyboard.
"I'm in!" he announced triumphantly.
It had taken him little more than fifteen minutes to access Danvers Academy's computer files. He searched for the records of Annie's students, but when he typed in each name, he received the same answer: there was no student by that name on file. Searching for Annie's own record also proved fruitless. There seemed to be no problem with the school's database, except for the absence of any mention of Annie and her students.
"What about the teacher you replaced?" Robert asked. "What was her name?"
"I never thought to ask what her name was. All I was told about her is that she resigned for medical reasons."
Robert brought up the records of the faculty members.
"According to the school's database, the last change in staff occurred four years ago when one of the sixth-grade teachers retired."
Annie was about to suggest that maybe the school administration was just uncommonly slow in updating their computer files when she saw on the screen the names of the senior staff members. As in all the records, the names were listed in reverse order, with last names first.
She pointed to the computer screen and said to Robert, "Look at that, Headmaster: Giles, Corey. The names are reversed. That's why I didn't make the connection before. The man who hired me was Corey Giles, and the man pressed to death in 1692 was Giles Corey. Just what the hell is going on at Danvers Academy?"
"I've got an idea," Robert announced, still trying to find Annie's predecessor at Danvers. "I can try to access the files of the state licensing board, the teacher's union and the state department of education. One of them must keep a record of who is teaching at what school."
"I don't want you to get into any trouble. Hacking is a serious crime."
"Don't worry about that. They'll have to catch me first."
After what seemed like an eternity of patient hacking, Robert was able to generate a list of all teachers who were currently teaching at Danvers Academy as well as those who had left within the last five years.
"Wait, it appears as though some of these names don't coincide with the names in the Academy's files," he said.
Robert printed out both lists, and then he and Annie compared the names.
"Here's one," Robert announced, "Bibber, Sarah. She was supposed to be at Danvers Academy two years ago, but there's no record of her in the school's files."
"What grade did she teach?" Annie asked.
"First."
"First grade? It may be a coincidence, but two years ago, my students would have been in the first grade. This Sarah Bibber might have been their teacher. Who are the others, and what grades did they teach?"
"Booth, Elizabeth, grade two, and she supposedly started last year. Churchill, Sarah, a kindergarten teacher, three years ago."
"They all follow the same pattern. The grades these women taught at the time they were hired correspond with the grades my students were in at the time. Are there any more?"
"Hubbard, Elizabeth, also a kindergarten teacher, also three years ago. Lewis, Mercy—"
Robert stopped speaking; he and Annie stared at each other. They both recognized the name Mercy Lewis as belonging to one of the afflicted girls who had accused others of the crime of witchcraft back in 1692.
Annie grabbed the book that Robert had bought at the Witch Museum.
"They're all in this book," she announced. "Sarah Bibber, Elizabeth Booth, Sarah Churchill and Elizabeth Hubbard. Robert, see if any of these names are on either of the lists: Abigail Williams. Elizabeth Parris."
Annie continued reciting the names of the accusers.
"Well?" she asked when Robert looked up from the printouts.
"With one exception, those names are like the others. The state records show their assignment to Danvers Academy, yet there's no record of them in the school's computer files."
"What's the exception?"
"Ann Putnam. There is no mention of her on either list."
"What about me? Am I on the state's list?" she asked.
"Yeah. Harrison, Ann, temporarily assigned to Danvers Academy, grade three."
"So we have ten teachers all named after the accusers of the Salem with-hunt, nineteen students and the headmaster named after the victims and no mention of any of them in the Academy's records. Do you think we've uncovered some weird religious cult here?"
Robert was baffled.
"I have no idea. I can't begin to understand what any of this means, but I'd like to know what happened to those ten teachers."
He then checked the motor vehicle records, credit reports and several other official directories. They only confirmed his suspicions. There was no trace of any of the women after they had been hired by Danvers Academy.
"I'm getting hungry. How about you?" Annie asked.
"I think I have some steaks I can defrost," Robert offered.
"What I'd really like is pizza—my treat. Pepperoni okay with you?"
"Sounds great. I'll get my coat."
"No, you stay here and keep plugging away. I'll be back in a little while."
As Robert continued his search, Annie drove to an Italian restaurant five miles away from Robert's apartment and ordered a large pepperoni pizza. When she opened her purse, she discovered that she had only five dollars in her wallet. But Danvers Academy was just two miles up the road. She could drive there, get some more money and be back before the pizza was done.
* * *
She opened the door to her on-campus apartment, reached her hand in and turned on the light.
Much to the teacher's surprise, the room was not empty.
"Hello, Ann. We've been waiting for you."
* * *
Meanwhile, Robert Forbes decided to run a complete computer check on Annie Harrison.
* * *
Annie looked at the nineteen children huddled around the elderly schoolmaster.
"Mr. Corey, I have a few questions I'd like to ask you, sir. I found out about the ten missing teachers. I also know that these students aren't listed in the school records."
* * *
Robert found Annie Harrison's records from college, high school and finally grammar school. It was slow work, but he was determined to find the connection between Annie Harrison and the missing teachers at Danvers Academy.
* * *
"You're an intelligent, resourceful young woman. You've probably guessed that we're not ordinary students," young John Proctor said.
"Who or what are you?" Annie asked.
"We are the reincarnated spirits of the so-called Salem witches," explained little Becky Nurse.
"We have waited three hundred years to come back," Martha Corey added. "Except for dear Giles, who came back early to pave the way for the rest of us."
"They were all wrongfully hanged in 1692," Giles Corey explained, "and reborn in 1992. I was able to obtain the post here at Danvers Academy, get the children assigned to one class and locate all the right teachers."
"What about those teachers? Why are they all named after the accusers?" Annie asked.
"Because they are the accusers, reincarnated just as we were."
"You really must have been witches if you had the power to conquer death," Annie said, trying to make sense of the whole situation.
"No. We weren't witches. We never possessed any powers—not then and not now. Tell me, Ann; are you familiar with the concept of karma, the belief that a person's actions in one life determine his or her fate in the next?"
"I've heard of it, although I've never believed in it."
"Well, my dear, it does exist. It was karma, not witchcraft, that brought us all together again in this school to rectify the sins of the past."
* * *
Robert sat back in his desk chair, stunned. He finally found the connection; it was a matter of public record. Annie's mother had remarried after the death of her first husband, and her second husband, David Harrison, adopted her infant daughter and gave her his name.
* * *
Mr. Giles brought a length of rope out from behind his back.
"You and your friends falsely accused us of witchcraft in our previous lives," he declared forcefully, as though passing sentence on her. "In this life, it is your turn to be the victim."
He attached one end of the rope to the rafters overhead and pulled it tight.
"You are the last one, my dear. With your death, the grievous mistakes of the past will have all been corrected. When our current lives come to an end, our souls can find peace at last."
Ann's nineteen students gathered closely around her as Mr. Giles slipped the noose around her neck.
"Now it is time for you to join your friends Mercy Lewis, Elizabeth Parris and Abigail Williams. May God have mercy on your soul, Ann Putnam."
Salem is an alumnus of the Danvers Academy, class of 1692.
