On Thoughts Of Mr. Brocklehurst

    Quite gullible and terrible. That's all I can say about Mr. Brocklehurst. Though, between the timid, orphaned girl that I was and the seemingly reliable character of Mrs. Reed, it doesn't take a genius to know which one looked more believable.

    Still, I found it laughable. Was the esteemed Mr. Brocklehurst that imperceptive to not know how apprehensive I was feeling? Did he perhaps think I was pretending? No wonder he got along so well with Mrs. Reed; birds of the same feather flock together.

    Although, I cannot always be gloomy today. I think, and I cautiously hope for, that I will soon leave Gateshead. There is talk of putting me in a girl's school in Lowood. That would be a wonderfully timed escape, as the torment of the Reed children have gotten particularly awful (no doubt on the orders of Mrs. Reed). I don't even care if every teacher in the school is like Mr. Brocklehurst; as long as I get out of here, I'll go anywhere.

    Fortunately, I wasn't subjected to Mr. Brocklehurst's appearance any longer. He asked me a few questions about religion and proceeded to be horrified when I told him that I found the psalms uninteresting. He left but not without further humiliating me, saying he'll tell all the teachers in my school of my deceptive tendencies (which, may I remind to you, is a false accusation made by my oh-so-lovely aunt. The next post will most definitely be about her). I know I've said that I wouldn't care if every teacher in the school is like Mr. Brocklehurst but now I find myself wishing that it wasn't the case. 

    My thoughts on Mr. Brocklehurst are as follows: he is beyond remedy. Old dogs can't be taught new tricks. Trying to convince him of my innocence would be just as futile as trying to convince my dear cousin, John Reed, to stop tormenting me. Both utterly impossible.